//------------------------------// // Midnight // Story: By Moon's Glow // by RaritysTypewriter //------------------------------// The cicadas slowly spoke up, adding another dimension to the soft wind that whispered through the orchard. "So... that's it? She just up and... left?" Hearthfire nodded wistfully. Violet considered this a moment, biting her lower lip. "And that's all you could ever get Brass - I mean, your dad - to tell you?" Hearthfire ignored the slip. The stallion had always been Brass Bellows to him. "He doesn't like to talk about her. It's the only thing he ever thinks about, but he definitely doesn't like it to come up in conversation," he paused. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't like conversation at all, for that matter." Violet pursed her lips. "Well, you said she studied ponies. Are you sure you're not interested in that or smithing?" "I'm not sure what 'studying ponies' even means, and I'm definitely not interested in my father's workshop." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you so against what he does?" "Well," Hearthfire thought about how to explain. "It's too loud. And hot." "Uh huh." "And the smell is probably the worst... it's like having a permanent nosebleed." Violet gave a little shrug. "Plus, he makes," Hearthfire lowered his voice to a whisper. "Weapons." "Weapons?" "Yeah. I asked him why once, and he just called me naive. I just don't see any reason ponies would need to make something for - you know." He trailed off. "Well, it's not like you have to make weapons, too. You could make useful things, like plows!" Hearthfire seemed unconvinced. Violet grinned at him. "Plus, it sounds like it'd be exciting to work in a forge! All the heat and fire... like a trip to Tartarus!" The grey pegasus leapt into the air, looping around backwards and flying directly towards him, before suddenly stopping half a hoof from his face. "Rrraaagghh! I'm a monster from beyond the gates!" Hearthfire tried to keep a straight face, staring into her manic, purple eyes. It was impossible. "Watch out," he laughed, falling backwards. "My special talent might turn out to be monster slaying!" Violet dropped onto her back, giggling. "I'm not sure you're cut out for slaying monsters. You couldn't hurt another creature to save your life!" The two ponies laughed, lying in the soft grass of the orchard. After a moment, Violet regained her composure and propped her head up on one hoof. "Really, though. Is there anything you love to do? There has to be something - you're the oldest blank flank I've ever met." Hearthfire blushed. "Oh, no, I didn't mean that to be -" "It's not that. Don't feel bad," he quickly corrected her. "It's just," his blush deepened. "Well, I like to... dance." Violet suddenly sat up, grass and leaves scattered through her purple shock of a mane. "Dancing?" He nodded sheepishly. She adopted a posh Canterlot accent and a sly smile. "Oh, heavens. You should've spoken sooner, darling! I'd loove for you to accompany me to a ball." He glared at her, then looked down. His normally tan face became a deep scarlet. Violet's eyes softened. "Oh, come on. It's not strange for an earth pony to like dancing. I'd dance with you." Hearthfire looked back up, eyes widening. His ears perked up at the suggestion. Violet was giving him a mocking smile. "I'd like that," he quietly offered. Her face registered mild surprise, and the chirruping cicadas underlined an awkward beat. Hearthfire cleared his throat, treading unexplored territory. "We could, um, go to the Apple Festival together?" Violet let her mouth fall open for just a moment, before quickly snapping it shut. She blinked, oblivious to the mess in her mane. "Sure. It's a -" "Date?" Now it was her turn to blush. "Yeah," she said, lifting off the ground into a meek hover. "A date." Violet rocked back and forth, hanging from her wings, as if on a small swing. She seemed intensely focused on some point past Hearthfire's shoulder, and was fiddling with her forehooves. At this point, her complexion almost matched her name. "Hey, uh," she mumbled. "It's getting late." Hearthfire looked disappointed. "Yeah, I know." Every insect in the orchard was practically screaming at them, now. Despite herself, a slow smile spread across Violet's face. She twirled about in the air, leveling with him. "Meet me at the town square just before the festival starts, okay?" He grinned. "Yeah. We'll meet there." "Great! It's gonna be awe-" She caught herself, feeling a little embarrassed at her enthusiasm. "It's gonna be... great. See you tomorrow!" Hearthfire watched as, with a powerful flap, Violet shot up above the trees. She rolled over and waved at him, before banking off towards her home. Hearthfire, grinning like an idiot, began making his way back to his father's workshop. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. *** Their dinner was some abysmal, shapeless gruel. Again. There was a reason Hearthfire usually ate with Violet's family. Brass Bellows, wearing a surly grimace, picked at his meal. Hearthfire ate slowly, trying to conceal his excitement. It wasn't easy. Brass grumbled something inaudible. Hearthfire looked questioningly at his father. "Sir?" The old stallion met his gaze with a stony expression. After a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nothin'," he sighed. "Finish yer food." Hearthfire looked down, trying to delve the deepest secrets of his plate. He hated when his father was like this. Obsessed. Distant. Aloof. All words Brass had used to describe Hearthfire's mother. His father snorted. "You're just like her. Always lost in yer damn head." Hearthfire chose not to answer. When he was finished, he politely excused himself from the table, and climbed the stairs to his room. His bed warmly welcomed him, and the same goofy smile settled comfortably back onto his face. In his mind, the scene from the orchard played over and over again. The festival seemed years away, even though in just a few hours, he would be there with the most amazing mare he'd ever met. She doesn't care about cutie marks. She doesn't care if I'm not a typical earth pony. She just... cares. About me. About... us? It was a strange word. A word of belonging. Friendship. He smiled. Maybe even something more. It was all to good to be true. *** Hearthfire dreamt of a wedding. Violet, in a beautiful, white wedding gown, drifted down the aisle towards him; her parents, eyes watering above warm smiles, waved at him. Even Brass Bellows looked happy for his son, the fate of his own relationship temporarily forgotten. The uncharacteristically cheery stallion closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. Hearthfire felt as if he'd never frown again. Wedding bells began to ring, keeping time with the organist, as white streamers fluttered down from the ceiling high above. Violet took her place beside Hearthfire, and the couple stared into each other's eyes. He was practically shaking with excitement; she bit her lip, suppressing a giggle. The bells rang out, loudly defying ignorance of the most important day in their lives. Ding! Wait, why are there bells? We haven't even started... Ding! Violet's smile evaporated. Her eyes widened, and locked on to a point somewhere past Hearthfire's shoulder. Ding! Her mouth fell open and, shaking her head, she took a step back. Ding! "Hearthfire, I -" He sat bolt upright in his room, sweating. It was dark, save a few slivers of moonlight, and the sound of wedding bells echoed in his head. "Hearthfire!" The voice was a hoarse whisper. Ding! No, that was a real bell. Outside. But... the town bell only rang at noon. "Boy, listen to me!" Hearthfire started, turning his head towards the sound. "Huh?" Brass Bellows' silhouette loomed in the doorway. "Get up," he hissed. "They're summoning everyone to the town square." *** Hearthfire and his father stepped out into the street. It was dark - probably past midnight - and there was a slight chill to the air. Hearthfire could almost see his own breath. A sparse procession of ponies, some groggy and miserable, others anxious and alert, ambled along towards the town square. Hearthfire and Brass joined them; the former, blinking, shook the remaining sleep from his head; the latter, once again nothing like the Brass from Hearthfire's dream, simply stared on ahead. As the group passed each intersection, more and more townsponies merged alongside them. Tense, hushed voices bounced around the ever-growing procession - all questions, no answers. Hearthfire listened to them, his pulse quickening. His mouth felt dry. He looked to his father, but the stoic earth pony remained as much a fortress as ever. More loudly, persistent bells rang. The Salt Block loomed to their left, hurling booming echoes into Hearthfire's ears. Its windows were black and foreboding; the saloon doors creaked quietly in an unfelt breeze. Rounding the corner, they could finally see the town square. A hastily erected stage stood in the middle, ringed by pitch-soaked torches. Mayor Appleseed stood atop the platform. The flickering torchlight cast his face into a sharp contrast. He looks... serious? Or sad. Hearthfire couldn't tell. Before the mayor was a shabby pedestal that supported an old bullhorn. On the left side of the stage, Hearthfire could just make out the trembling form of a pegasus. The winged colt swayed, appearing to be on the verge of passing out. Hearthfire's pulse, pounding in his head, began to compete with the deafening bells. The procession drew up to the foot of the stage; Hearthfire and his father were a few rows from the front. Nervous ponies pressed in on all sides, exchanging frightened whispers. "What's happening?" "Keep the foals quiet, Braeburn." "You think it's those savages, again?" Hearthfire began to feel dizzy. He desperately looked around the crowd, trying to pick out a sign of Violet and her family among the scores of wide eyes and furrowed brows. There was none. Just as the soft murmur of the chattering crowd began to crescendo, Mayor Appleseed coughed loudly into his bullhorn. Silence immediately swept back away from the stage. The quiet was so sudden that Hearthfire could, for a brief moment, hear the voices of the crowd briefly echo off of the dark buildings around the square. Then, only the bells and his pounding heart remained. The mayor turned to the tower behind him and nodded. The ringing finally ceased, leaving its final toll to reverberate ominously throughout the town. He turned back to the crowd, eyes closed, and seemed to be composing himself. A cough here. A hoofstep there. Somewhere in the back, a foal began to cry. The unsteady voice of its mother hummed a wavering, keyless tune. Finally, the pegasus on stage collapsed. His breath whipped up a small puff of dust from the wooden planks. Once. Mayor Appleseed looked down at the pitiful colt, and swallowed. He whispered something, glanced at the sky, and stepped toward the podium. He cleared his throat, took a deep, calming breath, and began to speak. "A messenger has arrived. From Canterlot." The mayor's voice boomed across the top of the crowd, but Hearthfire could barely hear him. He fought to bring himself under control. It was no use. Focusing on the mayor was becoming difficult; Hearthfire squinted at him as if through a long tunnel. "A messenger with very grave news." Everypony else seemed to gasp simultaneously; Hearthfire just stared, stiff as stone. In his ears, a dull roar had begun to build. The mayor blinked a few times, slowly, as if in shock. His lips were trembling as he looked down at the pedestal. "It reads as follows: Abandon Appleloosa, and flee north, to Canterlot. Dodge Junction has fallen. If you have family there, I am sorry. There's nothing-" His voice faltered. He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "There's... nothing you can do. Travel light, and make haste, for the Gates of Tartarus have opened once more. Celestia."