Friend
It was unusually warm for a wintery midnight, but that simply meant rain instead of snow, freezing moments after it pattered to the ground to encase the world in ice. By morning, the streets and walks would be as treacherous as skating rinks, would see the trees armoured all in glass and sagging under the tremendous weight. The air would be wet and chilly, cutting through clothes and fur to leech away the heat and leave everyone shivering and scurrying quick as they could to find warmth.
Here though, in a quiet room upon a quiet street within the press of Canterlot, there was comfort. The icy rain could only mutter softly against the window, its chill barred by glass and warded off by the gentle heat of the small magical stove in the corner, wrapped in a pale yellow nimbus that gave off only the faintest light. The room was as any would expect a six-year-old filly's to be; half prim and proper neatness driven by the needs of a dutiful parent, and half devastated mess, though unusual in that the mess was not a chaos of discarded toys and dolls but rather of books in all shapes and covers. Some had the simple cartoony shapes and friendly, bold-faced print of books fit for foals, while others were solemn-looking tomes heavy with knowledge, their faces marked with but a title and the author's name.
There were shelves here for them, of course; half-sized ones made to a foal's height and half-empty with their burden scattered as it was. They were mismatched and old, though no less sturdy for their age, proudly bearing what they were given with only the barest creak. They were faces familiar as any friend, practically family in their comforting presence; always there, always strong, always with a story to tell whenever asked.
Here, upon the scuffed wooden floor, the barest sliver of light shifting with the movement of a blanket upon the bed. No mere cover of blue and pink this midnight: it was a tent, propped up cunningly by clever use of a metre stick. The glow within shifted faintly through the down filling, a ghostly shape, vague, dancing macabre across the flower-dotted surface, yet it was nothing like so sinister within.
A filly all in lavender, sitting up upon the soft mattress within the warm closeness of her makeshift shelter, holding aloft a tattered and bedraggled shape in grey with her small hooves, making it move and dance as she hummed a tuneless tune; a young mind alive with happy fantasy. It was not simply her mother's old ragdoll, stitched and repaired half a hundred times, stuffed and restuffed, button eyes lost and found and lost again; it was Smartypants, the heroine of a thousand adventures. She had leapt chasms, delved the depths of dragon caves, fought with and reigned victorious over any number of frightful things that prowled the shadowy places of a dreaming filly's mind. There was no challenge she would not face, no secret she could not plumb, no mystery she could not unearth...
But most of all, there was no heart she could not warm.
Twilight hugged her doll tightly, liking the familiar feel of her coat, threadbare and patched as it was. Smartypants' stuffing might have grown a bit lumpy from so many crushing hugs, but it just made her all the better for it. The filly nuzzled the doll's stringy mane as she rocked back and forth, just enjoying the comfort and company for a moment before settling down again with a yawn. Smartypants took up residence on Twilight's lap, turned about so she could read the book that was open before them, a large one supported by a feather pillow, its pages scrawled with tiny, neat writing, spaced here and there with fantastic pictures of a wizard pony all in robes and topped with a pointed hat.
The tent was lit by a small lamp; a glass bowl cased in a frame of old bronze wire, its light yellow and faintly green, flickering with the movement of the fireflies gently captured and trapped within. It would be much better when the filly could figure out how to make light with her horn, but until that day, she made do with what she had. It wasn't such a hardship anyway; the faint buzzing of tiny wings and the tap of the insects against the glass had its own comfort, drowning out the incessant tapping fingers of icy rain playing upon the window beyond her fortress of cloth and down.
It was Smartypants' favourite kind of story, and Twilight was a close fan of it as well; adventures of an old wizard unicorn called Star Swirl the Bearded, or more truthfully, stories of the ponies he met. Most of those ponies ended up taking on the name of Smartypants, of course, and sometimes Star Swirl would become forgetful of his own name, taking to calling himself Twilight Sparkle instead. Even more mysterious was how he transformed from a tall, pale stallion all in blue robes to a little lavender filly far wiser and mightier than her stature would have one expect.
Those were when the stories got really good.
This one was a familiar tale, read a dozen times by now, of Twilight finding Smartypants as a pony in the thrall of a dozen bandits. There was much talking, as Twilight was wont to do, but it would end with the prisoner Smartypants being freed on a bet Twilight had cunningly rigged in her favour. Of course the trickery would be discovered, sending the two fleeing across hills and woods to evade the embarrassed fury of the cheated bandits. By the nature of such things, Smartypants would turn out not to be a simple serf and servant, but a princess lost to time and memory caused by a spell cast by an evil uncle jealous of her mother's throne.
They would escape those bandits, would ford a flooding river and save a family trapped upon it, would quell a raging ogre with a pot of soup, and even stop a dragon from terrorizing a village when Smartypants discovers how its mayor had stolen the dragon's eggs to sell. They would travel the breadth of the land together, and while sometimes they fought they always forgave, and in time they would return to Smartypants' home. It would take all of Twilight's wits and Smartypants' bravery to confront and overcome her terrible uncle, but their victory was assured for there was nothing that could stand before the unbreakable bond of friendship forged between the two through their adventures together.
The minutes wore on quickly into hours as Twilight told Smartypants in a murmur the written recollections of their companionship in a fantasy life long ago, but a filly can only stay awake for so long, even with good company and burdened with excitement. By the end of the fifth chapter, when the moon trolls were demanding Twilight hand over Smartypants to into a pie, she was stumbling over words and struggling to keep her eyes open.
The fireflies had flickered out one by one in the silence of the tent, now sitting quietly at the bottom of their glass prison, the occasional flicker and flair marking them as perfectly healthy, though eager to be freed after a night's hard work. Twilight was sprawled atop the sheets, cheek pressed against the open pages of her book, snoring gently. She was huddled up with her small hooves beneath her, dark mane a messy halo about her head that could not hide the smile that curled her lips. Tucked tightly under one arm, nestled against the filly's neck was the familiar, comforting grey shape of her closest friend...
And somewhere far away, off beyond the stars yet so very near, another grey shape, same but different, stood atop a small hill of gently flowing grass. She wore a coat of armour, at her side a spear tipped with glittering silver, and upon her head a plumed helmet all in shining bronze. She watched over the land with eyes mismatched; blue and red, her mane a tumble of dark, thick strands bound tightly in a long red ribbon. Often she stayed here, simply watching, othertimes she would wage war against the nightmares that would threaten to invade the tranquility, battering them away with spear and shield, for this was her home and the home of her closest friend.
One day, that friend would no longer need her, would be strong enough to ward away those nightmares and bad thoughts on her own, but that day was not yet here. Until it came, there would be no challenge she would not face, no secret she would not plumb, no mystery she would not unearth...
And no heart she would not warm.
---
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D'awwww <3
Beautiful.
Simply beautiful. Good work martian, keep it up.
Right in the feels...
Excellent work Martian, though the ending confused me a bit, it was beautiful.
What...how...this has two dislikes....
How can somebody dislike this??
If anyone has a heart, Upvote for Smartypants, the most loyal friend a lonely filly could ask for. Forget Lesson Zero, this...this was touching, and really brings one back to their own youth, and the heroes we loved and who protected us when we slept.
Well done, well done.
D'awww...this was a beautifully written piece of story with a surprising and smile-awarding ending. Definitely one of the better little fics I've read!
So beautiful,, As expected, Martian
The D'awww is strong in this one..... yessss.......
Twilight is Best Filly!
I loved your story AND the Kalimba work.
You're very sly, Martian. Playing at the end of innocence, depicting the fleeting love between a child and her doll - I remember those sorts of adventures very well, and miss those times so much, sigh!
I didn't have any video games or computers when I grew up; I had books, my dolls, and IMAGINATION. ANY OF YOU REMEMBER WHAT IMAGINATION WAS BEFORE CALL OF DUTY!? LIARS!
Needless to say, I was moved by but a mere pittance of your writing prowess. That's what I like - being provoked by a piece and made to feel whatever raw things the writer desires. I'm no easy sell though, it's gotta be done just so to get ME to crack! ... which happens alot where your stories are concerned, hum. I know you just love toying with my emotions, don't you? Bastard.
I still hug and talk to my stuffed animals. DON'T YOU JUDGE ME.
That's adorable. I love sweet stories like this; short and sweet as always, but you almost have to slow down your reading because there's so much in so few words. Makes it powerful and more sensory. Congrats on another job well done.
You metric people amuse me
Okay, now that that's out of the way... OMG MY HEART!
Ahem. But this is very, very sweet. Smartypants and Twilight are so adorable it should be illegal, that's a given, but what also strikes me is that you've really captured what it is about a good story that captivates obsessive readers such as myself. I can perfectly find myself relating to Twi's joy at losing herself in her books, how they can transport you out of the mundane life we have to lead, even if only for a little while. It was true when I was a kid, and it still is today when I find the right kind of story.
Also, I'd like to take your opening paragraphs and frame them and hang them someplace for all aspiring writers to look at as an example of how to handle image-building in writing; that was stunning. That's the sort of thing I've always wanted to be able to write but have never been able to pull off. You've managed to blow away my own work, while simultaneously making me want to open up the word processor and get cracking... I think that marks you as a virtuoso.
Thanks for a wonderful fic- this one's off to the fav's list, post-haste.
2126391
Really, don't get me started on the retardation of imperial measures...
2126429
IMPERIAL! It even sounds more metal. And that's what matters.
tinyurl.com/mbho6go
Also:
derpicdn.net/img/view/2013/5/3/315468.jpg
I have no words, other than thank you for writing this.
2126429 I hear you brother
I'm afraid there is no word in the dictionary to describe this wonderful story. So I'd like to use a made up one instead:
SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS! Problem solved.
2126429 Not so, more that Metric is just so genius it makes Imperial look like a babbling idiot.
Books are Food for the imagination, Feed your mind and discover A wealth of Knowledge and adventure beyond compare.
This was sweet and adorable but also... Very deep. A doll or Stuffed animal like smarty pants is more than just a toy, It can easily become a life-long companion... a best friend and the strength and comfort they can provide is more than real. Even as an adult... I still have mine. I may not play and dream with it the way I did when I was young, But in my weakest moments my companion is sometimes a small comfort in a sea of hardship and stress. And memories of our old imagined adventures can almost always bring a smile to my face.
Perhaps That makes me strange, But I believe it has also made me stronger as I know that no matter how things get, I'm never alone, even if my only friend nearby is Full of cotton.
Absolutely adorable. Loved it
Beautiful, no words can describe how I enjoyed reading this
Thank you so much for writing this. It warmed my heart, bringing up memories of my own youth. Thought not a bookworm myself, I had my own adventures with video games and the daydreams that came with them. Many a time, my plushies would join, and they still do even to this day.
After a harrowing work week and other mixed baggage, this little pick me up was what I needed. Thank you.