The Big Red Sled
Escort Flight
“Worst. Mission. Ever.”
Optio Pumpernickel of the Royal Guard muttered as he trudged through the busy corridors between the dressing room and the Royal Hanger with polished armor hung perfectly on his bulky frame and Official Royal Orders tucked inside his breastplate. It was only an hour until the traditional Hearth’s Warming Eve early release, and while all of the rest of the guards were buzzing about their plans for spending the night and tomorrow among their friends and relatives, he was getting ready to fly out for an escort mission in the snow to some frozen northern city that would in all probability take every speck of the evening and some daylight on both ends. The orders had been more vague than normal, including enough phrases like “such tasks as the escort deems necessary” and “represents the Royal Guard and the Princesses” that it most certainly was a crap job, probably some northern rich Very Important Pony who wanted to take their private chariot out for a spin to watch the Hearth’s Warming night lights from above.
Still, he was a Royal Guard, and one of Princess Luna’s Nocturne, representing uncounted years of tradition and honor. His long months of recovery from his last mission into the northern mountains were over, and only a few of his many scars still itched on occasion. Just last week, the flight surgeon had cleared him for active duty after his physical training times had once again been reduced to his pre-griffon encounter levels, and he had announced with a wink that he had just the mission for a recovering guard. What was worse, Pumpernickel was fairly sure his wife had bought the cranky old Nocturne a Hearth’s Warming present too.
As much as he wanted to spend another evening with his pregnant wife while curled up in front of a roaring fire, duty called. Two additional heating crystals were clipped to his armor, a set of tinted sunglasses were set in their holder on his helmet to deal with the few hours of sunlight remaining, and he was a few minutes early reporting to his superior officer who would be flying alongside him this evening, giving him some time to stand at the mustering point and grumble quietly to himself.
“Good evening, Sunshine!” Sergeant Dandelion was in a playful mood, dropping out of the sky in a whirl of snowflakes to land next to his grouchy fellow Nocturne. Little crystals of ice glittered on his membranous wings, and a rime of frost on his tinted sunglasses indicated the nocturnal pony had been up for a while already, probably checking the high-altitude winds. Despite a few more years under his armor, the middle-aged Nocturne was still the second fastest long-distance flier in the guard, and posted times fairly close to Pumpernickel's own.
With a crisp salute, Pumpernickel responded, “Reporting for duty as requested, Sergeant! I have all the preparations listed in the orders completed and am ready to depart when ordered.”
His fellow guard shook his head and checked his own gear. “We’re going to pick up our escort mission over Griffon airspace by the eastern Crystal Mountains in a few hours, so don’t sprain a tendon trying to sprint. We’ve got lots of time—” Dandelion checked his watch, a nice silver model with fancy dials, one of which was pointing to On Time “—provided we leave right now. Any questions, son?”
“Sir, no sir!”
“It’s quite an honor.” From the look on the older Nocturne’s face, he had expected a somewhat less formal response, and Pumpernickel felt a sudden urge to explain.
“Just between us, sergeant, I think I’d rather be wrapped up under a blanket with my wife in front of a nice warm fire tonight.”
Dandelion shrugged with a sly smile. “We’ll see what you think after the mission. Come on, let’s get going.”
* * *
Nocturne were meant to fly this way. High above the scattered snow clouds, their membranous wings caught the updrafts and soared, carrying them along at a fair clip as they headed north-east. It wasn’t as fast as feathered pegasi could fly, but over long distances, they had no equal. Neither of them talked during the hours-long flight through the icy air as the sun slowly descended to the horizon. It would have taken away from the rhythm of their regular breathing, and the beautiful tranquility of the sky as it prepared to welcome Luna’s unblinking stars. There were stories of Nocturne flying west and losing track of time, eventually flying out to sea, never to be seen again, but they were only stories, told to foals around the glow of the morning dawn as they were tucked in for a good day’s sleep. Pumpernickel had long outgrown tales of the Tooth Flutterpony and the Winter Wrap-Up Rabbit, put aside for grown-up activities such as a wife and an upcoming family, as well as his career as a Royal Guard. Now as their flight began to edge closer to the outskirts of the griffon empire, his senses rose to an alert status and he scanned across the sky diligently, in the hopes that this would be an uneventful flight, unlike his last mission into the frozen north.
“We’re just about at the rendezvous point,” called out Dandelion from his position just off his left wing. “Just circle until our escort gets here. According to the guards who did this last year, they’re almost always late.”
“Last year?” asked Pumpernickel as the two Nocturne swung into a long leisurely circle above the puffy snow clouds below. The brilliance of the setting sun reflected off the back of his sunglasses with every circle, and he was not truly comfortable until the blazing disc had descended beneath the horizon and Luna’s silvery sphere had risen. It was one of the greatest feelings in the world to experience the newborn stars as he tucked his unneeded glasses away, luxuriating in the simple pleasures of flight in an empty sky. They circled for an hour or more before the two guards caught a glimpse of a far-away light, a slow blink of red and green navigation lights on an airborne wagon of some sort. As it drew closer, Pumpernickel could pick out the four griffon escorts by the golden glint of their minimalistic armor and the green glow of the night-vision spells on their helmets. It took a few minutes to soak in, but as they flew to intercept, he finally had to ask his fellow officer, “Dandy, are those Imperial Guards? I thought they only guarded Emperor Ripping Claw himself.”
“They’ve got a rotation, just like us. Now due to your experience with griffons, you’ve got protocol duty, so don’t screw this one up. Go ahead, I’ll be right beside you.”
It took a long gentle curve for the two Nocturne to draw near the escorted wagon, but as they completed their turn and closed the range, Pumpernickel was so shocked he nearly quit flapping. The elite griffon guards were not the cause of his distress, even though they rose up from their paralleling position to form the neatest line-abreast formation above the escorting wagon he had ever seen. No, it was the wagon itself.
There were lumpy bags strapped to the wagon with great abandon, tied on by what seemed to be miles of rope in a massive pile that threatened to topple the whole thing the moment it touched ground. Even the curly sled runners were two sizes too small when compared to the oversized load. A sense of age seemed to permeate the whole wooden contraption, not from any speck of decay or rot, but from the careful maintenance and thick layers of paint with silver lettering across both sides and the musical jingle of small bells in the icy slipstream. It was far too large and overloaded for a single pegasus to pull, and as the two Nocturne pulled up alongside, Pumpernickel almost quit flapping in shock for the second time.
It was being pulled by a reindeer.
And not just an ordinary reindeer, but the biggest and fattest reindeer he had ever seen in his life, wearing a furry red and white coat that was tipped with small icicles, and kept from flapping in the wind by a thick black belt. Ponies all over Equestria would dress up in that outfit every Hearth’s Warming season to ring bells for charitable contributions, and to sit in stores to listen to what little colts and fillies wanted for their presents. But instead of the fake antlers on the department store ponies, this reindeer had a huge rack of real horns, glowing a faint silver in the moonlight as he galloped along, pulling the overloaded sled behind him without the slightest sign of wings.
“Santa Hooves?” blurted out Pumpernickel.
“The one and only,” said Dandelion thorough a huge grin as he looked over at his stunned companion. “What, did you think we were escorting the Tooth Flutterpony?”
“Ho, ho, ho!” bellowed the fat reindeer with a cheerful glance at his two new escorts. “Glad to see you boys! Ran into a rough patch of sleet a few hundred miles back, and it threw us off schedule. We’re gonna have to make up time.”
“T-time?” stammered Pumpernickel.
“Guards of Equestria,” sounded a loud voice from the griffon guards above them. “Are you prepared to take over responsibility for the escort?”
With a glance at his fellow guard, and a second longer look at his impossible escort, Pumpernickel curved his flight upwards to the side of the Imperial Guard who had spoken. His Griffon was still a little accented, but it seemed appropriate to address his counterpart in his native language during this highly unusual night. “<Honored Ones of the Flock, we have the escort. Return with our thanks for the successful completion of your task.>”
The golden-armored griffon nodded sharply and responded, “<Farewell, Wingmaster. May your wings never falter.>”
“<May your flight be swift and true,>” said Pumpernickel in return, before the griffons banked to the side, turning and flying back to their home with only the faintest displayed signs of fatigue. It took a moment for Pumpernickel to look down, with the faint hopes that he was having some sort of high-altitude delusions, and the overloaded sled would turn back into some overstuffed VIP and his pegasus drivers.
He looked down.
A jolly, fat reindeer and a grinning Nocturne looked back.
Pumpernickel blinked several times.
The scene did not change. If this was some sort of practical joke, it had to be the most elaborate setup in history, even more twisted than the Great Noodle Prank of twenty years ago. With a deep breath to clear his head, Pumpernickel dropped back down to fly alongside his fellow guard and the… reindeer.
“Um. Mister Santa Hooves, I presume?”
The big reindeer threw back his head, antlers and all, and bellowed out a thunderous, “Ho, ho, ho! No need to be so formal, youngster. Just call me Santa. So are you ready for the flight of your life?”
The absurdity of his situation seemed to slough away in the cold night air as Pumpernickel looked over the huge sled filled to overflowing with lumpy bags. This delivery was a monumental task, and therefore a huge responsibility, one that only Luna’s Night Guards could assist.
“Yes, sir! The Royal Guard is at your command, Santa. What are your orders?”
“Tuck in tight on both sides of the sleigh and try to keep an eye out for dropped bags. Haven’t missed a present for a little colt or filly yet in all the years I’ve been doing this, and I don’t want to start now.”
The big reindeer shook his antlers once both Nocturne reached their assigned positions, and a dusting of silvery sparkles burst into the air, coating the sled and its escorts with a glittering highlight that felt warm on Pumpernickel’s coat and smelled vaguely of peppermint. The twinkling stars above seemed to add a musical jingle to the bells on the sled, and once Santa leaned forward into the traces, the overloaded sled shot forward at incredible speed with the two Night Guards flapping for all they were worth to keep up.
* * *
Pumpernickel was used to speeding through the night. He had flown in mareathons and sprints, and the occasional impromptu steeplechase through downtown Canterlot on a bet. There were even times he would take off with a few of the other stallions from work to engage in the dangerous sport of mountain skiing, skimming down Canterlot mountain on a thin pair of skis or a battered board, competing to see who could make the most snow fly into the air without going head-first into a tree.
It actually turned out to be pretty good practice for his current task.
Chimneys passed in a blur, strings of Hearth’s Warming lights snapped at his hooves, and whatever complete idiot who had designed the pointed lightning rod deserved a certain punishment that was not in tune with the season. The landmarks of the Equestrian cities were much better appreciated at an appropriate altitude with suitable time to examine them, rather than a blur streaming by while helping guide the overloaded sleigh around a particularly sharp corner. It seemed that no more than a second after the big reindeer vanished down some impossibly small chimney, he would pop back up again, sometimes bringing a cookie or a piece of candy for his tired escorts. Once Santa even brought a small selection of candied lichen, but after one bite, Pumpernickel had turned down any further fungi-based foodstuffs. Speed transformed the normally distant streets into a breakneck maze of twists and turns that played tricks with his eyes. For just a moment, he had even sworn that the sled and its escorts had passed the exact same sled with two frazzled-looking Night Guards headed the other way. He had waved at his counterpart in the hopes that perhaps they were just passing a section of reflective ice against a building, but he was almost positive the mirror image did not wave back for at least a stunned second or two.
There was even a quick lunch break at some rooftop bistro in downtown Fillydelphia, with three servings of pasta laid out and still steaming hot at the only table when they landed. They ate by almost inhaling the food, with Pumpernickel still in relative awe of the sheer number of cookies and candies the reindeer had managed to consume while still finishing his pasta first and cleaning his plate right down to the shining surface with a piece of garlic bread. As Santa tossed the harness onto his back with a practiced flip, he grinned over at the two guards.
“Sorry to be going so fast this evening, boys, but I’m trying to make up a little time.”
“Fast?” Dandelion scoffed and blew out a raspberry even while stretching out his wings with the sound of popping joints. “Pumpernickel, do you think we were going very fast?”
“Naaa,” he said with a long painful stretch of his own. “I thought I was going to fall asleep back there. But let’s not push the old gentlecolt too hard. He’s not as young as he once was.”
Dandelion nodded agreement and finished off the last of his water, sitting the glass back down on the table and emptying out his purse of bits for the tip. “Ready to go whenever you are, old-timer.”
The reindeer grinned and shook his horns as the two guards took their places. “You better start flapping now, kids. Grandpa’s gonna turn up the pace a little.”
* * *
Within minutes, Pumpernickel began to worry about breaking some obscure law of physics. Soon after, he did not even have time for that, as the elderly reindeer managed to speed up even more, leading the two guards in a twisty, loopy path through cities and towns Pumpernickel did not even have a chance to recognize. Progress was measured in gasping pants for air during the short bursts of time Santa spent on larger apartment buildings and orphanages, as well as the rapidly dwindling supply of lumpy bags on the back of the sleigh. The weather got colder as they moved north-west, eventually skimming along the edge of the ocean as the light of false dawn glimmered in the east, and Luna’s moon hung at the very edge of the horizon.
“Almost made it this year, but I’ve got an extra stop,” shouted Santa as he landed on the roof and ducked out of his harness before rummaging through the enormous pile of empty sacks in the sleigh. “I know her presents are in here somewhere. Cover for me while I look.”
The first touch of sunrise highlit the small house in a warm golden glow, and Pumpernickel dove down to shade the one window with his wings open wide and hanging onto the side of the house in his role as an organic shutter. He was braced fairly solidly by the time he realized that his awkward pose was not unobserved, as a small earth pony filly with a tattered doll sitting on her head was watching him gasp for air through the open window from just a few inches away.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Popcorn. Would you like a cookie?”
“Um. Yes?” He managed to get one tired hoof loose to accept the slightly sticky cookie and took a bite while listening for the sound of a reindeer stuffing presents under the Hearth’s Warming tree. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence, he asked, “And what is the name of your doll?”
The little filly held the doll up with a tiny smile. “Her name is Missus Teagarden. But she doesn’t have a tea set. I made her one out of rocks, but it isn’t the same.”
“Oh.” After a moment to choke down the last of the sticky cookie, Pumpernickel added, “Did you write Santa Hooves and ask for one?”
“Yes I did. And a new coat for daddy, and a Princess Luna talking action figure with real sparkly mane and tail. She talks, you know.” The little filly looked the dark Nocturne over from golden eyes to membranous wings, and her eyes lit up. “Have you seen her? She makes beautiful stars.”
“I know I’ve got one of them here, I can’t have miscounted!” The frantic voice of the big reindeer was tired, and bags fairly flew behind Dandelion as Pumpernickel looked up. The only part of Santa that was visible was his rump, sticking out of the sled while he rummaged around among the empty bags. “Found it! She wanted the talking Luna doll, right?”
There was a quiet click from the rooftop, then a mechanical male voice said, “I’m Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts! Let’s fly!”
After a moment, Pumpernickel turned to the little earth pony filly and smiled uncertainly.
“There may be a small problem with one of your requests this year. But I think we can substitute a gift that you will be very happy with.”
* * *
It was midmorning in Canterlot by the time two frostbitten Nocturne came gliding in for a landing at the castle, only to find Princess Celestia and Luna waiting for them. Small icicles hung from every part of their armor except for a small patch where their defrosting crystals were giving their last gasp of warmth, and little chunks of ice clogged their manes and tails, making little musical tinkling noises against each other in the breeze. With a glacial movement, both guards saluted their sovereigns and stood shivering in the warm sunlight, with matching chapped noses and a few little pieces of ice still hanging off their furry ears like miniature reindeer horns.
“S-sergeant D-d-dandelion and O-optio P-p-pumpernickel reporting, Y-your Highnesses. E-e-escort complete.”
Both princesses nodded. “Very good. The Royal Baths are at your exclusive disposal this morning. I believe your wives are down there even now, reserving a spot in the jacuzzi and a big mug of hot chocolate for each of you. Dismissed. Enjoy your day off.”
“O-one moment.” Pumpernickel motioned to Princess Luna and cleared his throat. “I h-have a request from one of your subjects.”
Five minutes later, Pumpernickel was floating in the steaming jacuzzi with the only body part showing above the hot water being a red nose and a long straw extending to a constantly refilled mug of hot chocolate. The low underwater rumble of running pumps and the splashing was music to his ears after all the whistling wind that he had heard for most of the night, but there was a beautiful voice he vaguely heard that brought him out of his blissful thoughts. With a questioning look at his wife, he raised his head up slightly so his ears would be above the water and asked, “What was that, dear?”
“I asked how your trip went, Lumpy.”
He sank back into the water with a blissful sigh. “Best. Mission. Ever.”
Popcorn had gathered Missus Teagarden and the rest of her friends into the back yard, setting them carefully around the table with all the tea things in preparation for the other guest that Santa’s helper had said would be dropping by at sunset with her last present. She always liked to watch the sun turn the ocean into a sea of blazing orange as it sank, as well as the moon rise slowly above the mountains. Pappa was constantly concerned that his job kept her away from other little ponies, but she would pat him carefully on the frayed cuff of his old warm coat and tell him that she had the best father in the world, and all of her toys to play with, as well as the beautiful sky that the Princesses decorated every day just for her. Secretly, she was still a little lonely, but she managed. Late at night she would stare out of her bedroom window and talk to the stars as they looked down on her. They never talked back, but she knew they appreciated her conversation.
Tonight the sunset was taking a little longer than she expected, and she looked up into the darkening sky with hope. He had promised. And her little heart suddenly beat faster as she spotted something up above the clouds that showed he had kept his promise, and more.
With a soft whisper of feathers, her last gift swept down out of the sky and landed in front of her. From her star-strewn mane to her soft blue eyes, she was every bit the beautiful princess doll that Popcorn had asked for, with one exception.
She was real.
“Hello, Popcorn. My name is Princess Luna, and I have heard that you like my stars. Would you like me to show them to you?”