Chapter 4: An Expected Arrival
Zecora jingled down towards Ponyville with saddlebags of various potions and palliatives for trade. While the ponies were still not completely comfortable about the rhyming hermit from Zebrabwe, they couldn't argue that her concoctions were decidedly effective.
Somehow she suspected that said concoctions were going to be in great demand tomorrow morning.
As she approached, her steps slowed as she looked at the ponies milling about with more purpose and energy than usual. There were buntings of red, blue and green spanning the main street, and to her surprise more banners adorned the lampposts in the same hues, with the white silhouette of a thistle against their patterned background.
"The town is decked in banners gay," she observed to a passing pony, "the Shetlanders arrive today?"
"Yeah, a pegasus arrived from Sweetwater this morning," the pony replied, shifting his hooves slightly. Despite proving she wasn't as evil as she was painted with her remedy for poison joke exposure, along with other helpful nostrums, there were still those ponies who saw her under a cloud.
"Then Zecora will drop her potions off," she replied, an edge creeping into her voice, "and then back to Everfree will go. For Shetland foals I've met before, to meet again? Thank you, but no."
The pony blinked at her in surprise as she trotted towards Ponyville Hospital.
Nurse Redheart was checking inventory when she heard the front door open with the sound of loaded saddlebags and muttering. "Yes?" she asked, poking an inquiring head into the reception area, "how can we – oh, Zecora!"
"It is I, indeed," Zecora replied with a snort, "with the potions you need."
"Potions?" Redheart was confused. "I don't think we... uh..."
"For these nostrums ponies will be grateful," the zebra replied, "to... cure the morning after hateful."
Redheart blinked as Zecora bent around to pull bottles and packets out of her bags and place them on the counter.
"Hangover cures... that healing salve, that's always welcome Zecora... whoa. Is all of this silphium?"
Zecora didn't look at her. "With Shetlanders, you must be receptive to the benefits of contraceptives." She pulled out even more jars of the plant in question and thumped them on the counter, not looking Redheart in the eye.
"Do you really think we'll need all of this?"
Zecora turned her head away to extract more items, but blew in annoyance on finding her saddlebags empty. "The wild ponies of the north go hard in work and hard in play. When revelling limits all are scorned." She gritted her teeth audibly. "How do I know? I will not say."
The medical mare opened her mouth to speak but Zecora cut her off.
"Your healing rounds I won't delay. Thus I bid you a pleasant day."
Nurse Redheart just stared as Zecora, jaw set, shouldered her way outside.
"It was the strangest thing," Redheart said later that afternoon to one of her friends, "she's obviously met the Shetlanders before, and she doesn't like them at all. If I didn't know any better, I'd say one of them tried to..." She shivered.
Her friend stared at her and shuddered. "Still," she replied, "they're escorting the Laird, right? They'll have to be on their best behaviour. Besides, remember what we used to think of her. These ponies probably aren't as black as she paints 'em."
They didn't notice Snappy Scoop eavesdropping and filing that titbit away for her story.
Just about everypony in town was arranged along the main street, watching the road to Sweetwater for signs of the Shetland herd. Mayor Mare was going over her welcoming speech for what probably was the thousandth time. Pinkie was, depending on where you were looking, hopping on the spot looking down the road, or going over her welcome wagon for the umpteenth time. Once Mayor Mare had given her welcoming speech, she'd pull it out and give 'em a real welcome – or maybe she'd switch things around and welcome 'em then the mayor could make her silly speech that'd be - but where are they?
A cyan shape dropped out of the sky, resolving itself into Rainbow Dash as she backwinged to a stop in front of the mayor and Twilight. "They're coming!" she cried, "looks like they're forming up into ranks or something."
"A parade?" Pinkie cried excitedly. Now she had to use the Welcome Wagon! And maybe a song... yes! The one she did for Cranky! That'd be just...
"C'mon Rainbow, get your Element on!" Twilight lifted the necklace in question. "Now hold still."
"How far away are they?" Mayor Mare asked.
"About half an hour by hoof," Rainbow shrugged as Twilight fastened the magical jewelery around her neck, "They've got five big wagons, and there's about twenty or so ponies and unicorns on the ground and ten pegasi in the air."
She didn't mention that three of the pegasi had intercepted her in the air – all stallions, and all highly suspicious.
"And wha' ye be doin', stickin' ye snout in other ponies' business?" one, a heavy-set tan chap with a darker mane had asked, tapping his forehooves together with a metallic clinking.
"Huh?" Rainbow realised she was staring at his hooves. Most ponies didn't wear shoes, except on ceremonial occasions - not that Rarity didn't try to popularise the idea. But these shoes...
...These shoes were made for fighting – well-worn iron, with accents of some sort of elaborate pattern around the edges. And sharp.
"Dinnae make me give tha' a smack," brought her back to the present. "Wha's tha doin' spyin' on us?"
"Spying? We're all waiting for you guys!" Rainbow was hurt by the allegation. "Don't you know who I am?"
"Nay," was the flat response.
"Rainbow Dash? First ever pony to perform a Sonic Rainboom – twice?" How could anypony not know of her exploits?
"Hey up, she is an' all!" One of the other pegasi was staring at her flank. "She be one o' Harmony Incarnate ye gurt gobshite! How can ye nay know t' stories?"
She was amused to see Mr Shoes blink, then finally register the truth. "My apologies, m'lady," he mumbled, "but we've been on t' road four days an'..."
"Well," Rainbow cast an eye downwards, "I'd say you're about half an hour away from Ponyville. The whole town's turned out to meet you."
"Oh aye?" Mr Shoes looked thoughtful, "Well, we'll have tae put on a wee show for t' town won't we?"
"I'll tell them you're coming," Rainbow replied, turning to leave, "but you'd better hurry before Pinkie brings the welcome wagon to you!"
"There they are now!" somepony called, indicating a small dust cloud that had entered visible range. The cloud grew several dots, which resolved themselves into three lines of ponies, all marching behind a single leader. A wing of what looked like ten pegasi flew overhead, keeping pace with the herd on the ground.
As they closed the distance, drummers in the middle of the ranks started a rapid rataflam which carried to the waiting ponies.
Then a shrill yet thunderous blast of sound slammed into Ponyville.
Those that didn't flee – or have to chase after frightened foals – would see that one of the five carts in the parade had a couple of ponies sitting in it, each one kneading a tartan bag with their hooves and blowing into a pipe attached to it. Other pipes sprawled out of the bag, and it would become clear that the... tone... the instrument made was modulated by the way the bag was squeezed.
Flanking the ranks were two pegasi, who were walking for the simple reason that it is hard to fly and work the bagpipes with your wing at the same time.
Just to add to the din, the Shetlanders began to sing, a mighty chorus:
Hark when the night is falling
Hear! Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of Shetland stallions.
Towering in gallant fame,
Shetland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Shetland the brave.
High in the misty Shetlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat
Beneath Shetland skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair filly's eyes.
Towering in gallant fame,
Shetland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Shetland the brave.
The pipes and drums fell silent; only the tramp of marching hooves accompanied a single voice that rose into the air; a young stallion's, full of passion.
Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Shetland faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss
Of sweet Shetland rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.
If the first wall of sound had been devastating enough, the second eruption of bagpipe, drum and song – this time at close range – literally shook windows.
Towering in gallant fame,
Shetland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave!
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Shetland the brave!
With a final roll of the drums, not to mention a few patriotic tears in their eyes, the procession crashed to a halt, directly in front of the reception stand.
The Laird Roanald an Daergdyer gazed through blue eyes at the ponies on the welcoming stand. He was an impressive chap, a shaggy roan broad in the shoulders; his ceremonial yoke made him look more so, a large thing bearing the tartans and badges of every clan in the Shetlands and thus representing not only his country, but also the burden he bore as Laird. He stood foursquare and proud, head high, beneath a tam-o-shanter bearing a plume of pheasant feathers above a silver emblem of a thistle.
Mayor Mare, five-sixths of Harmony Incarnate, and roughly 99.7% of Ponyville's population gaped back, stunned. (The exception was Fluttershy, who on the last chorus had curled up into a tight ball with her wings over her ears.)
The silence drew out, then one of the piper pegasi behind him ambled up and recognised a face.
"Hey up there Rainbow Dash!" he cried cheerfully, "Ah tol' ye we'd be puttin' on a wee show, didna'?"
She blinked. "Y... yeah," she stuttered, "but that... was..."
"Amaaazing," Pinkie breathed, her mane hanging limply. How in all Equestria was she going to match up to that?
The Laird simply raised an eyebrow as he looked around at the piper, a faint smile crossing his lips. That smile was reflected back at him by roughly two dozen openly grinning Shetlanders.
Sensing the din was over, Fluttershy began to uncurl tentatively.
Someone in the crowd started the applause, and soon the Shetlanders were surrounded by the roar of applauding ponies. Having no hands, ponies clap by drumming their hooves on the ground, and as such can build up quite a sound. The Shetlanders basked in the adulation, several laughing openly and a few offering some choice commentary to each other.
Fluttershy immediately curled up again.
"Well..." Mayor Mare blinked as the applause died down, then shifted into official mode. "Good Shetlanders all," she began, "as mayor of Ponyville, it is my pleasure to welcome you to our fair town, home of Harmony Incarnate."
Rainbow glanced over at where Fluttershy was still curled up in a ball and nudged her with a hoof. Fluttershy peered nervously out of her mane, then realised the noise really was over and carefully uncurled.
"We offer you the key to our town, and our hospitality for tonight, and tomorrow as well, before you resume your travel to Canterlot."
"Scoots!" Sweetie Belle hissed in that foalish whisper you can hear a mile away, "that's your cue!"
"Huh?" Scootaloo was still mesmerised by the Shetlanders.
"Never mind," the unicorn filly groused as she grasped one end of the key in her mouth, "I'll dm mm!"
"Sweetie Belle!" Rarity hissed at her, not just scandalised but ignored. "No!"
"No I'll do it!" Applebloom ignored Applejack's hissed order to stay put and raced over to grab hold of the other end. "Lmm gm!"
"Hey! That's my job!" Scootaloo snapped out of it and lipped onto the middle. "Yuf tuuf lm gf!"
Mayor Mare, Rarity and Applejack winced as the ceremonial key, instead of being presented in a suitably dignified fashion, was instead half-dragged, in the same confused way ants carry a twig, to the increasingly amused Laird in the mouths of three bickering fillies.
"Ah think I'll be a-taking that off ye hooves, lassies," he said at last, " although it seems tae me that ye've already unlocked goodwill a'tween us!"
The mayor blinked again. "Ah..." She watched as the Laird plucked the key in his own lips and carefully slid it into his neck pouch... sporran... thing. "An' who be ye three then?" He asked kindly.
"Uh... I'm Scootaloo," the little pegasus quavered uncertainly, "um... and - and this is Applebloom and this is Sweetie Belle," came out in a rush as she indicated the pony and unicorn fillies respectively. They blinked up at him, while Applejack and Rarity held their breaths, hoping they wouldn't reveal themselves to be the Cutie Mark Crusaders and ruin things even more than they had.
"Weell... tae think yon key tae ye toon ha' be given by all three tribes taegether!" The fillies blinked uncomprehendingly at him as he lifted his shaggy head to address the crowd. "It may nae be wha' ye were intendin', but at hame 'tis t' way such things are done, as a show o' unity an' harmony. So on behalf o' mysael', ma' family, t' rest o' these reprobates–" he turned to mock-glare at the guardsponies, who just grinned back at him, "– 'an t' entire Shetlands, I thank 'ee for your warm welcome, an' accept your offer o' hospitality!"
Zecora, as far as she was concerned, had got as close to those Shetland oafs as she desired this morning, thank you very much. Even at her hut inside the Everfree, she had heard their chorus that afternoon as they no doubt reached Ponyville. "I hope they are together banding to make sure their town remains standing," she grumbled, then frowned at her ingredients shelves. The one herb she needed and she was out...
A little while later an irritated Zebrabwean was walking through the Everfree's undergrowth, eyes and nose seeking mint. Today, she decided, was not a good day. In all the bucking around readying the contraceptives, abortifacients and hangover cures that her neighbours would inevitably need after those... hooligans! That was the word... had been, she'd forgotten to take time out to top up the herbs for her favourite tea! That was...
She froze and her ears swivelled to catch the sounds of somepony crashing through the underbrush. From the smell, he had been travelling hard and long, but the direction was –
"Ho traveller! You sound unravelled," Zecora called, "Why do you take the road untravelled?"
There was a pause in the crashing, then the traveller emerged. Zecora felt her heart sink as she realised that she was face to face with a damnable Shetlander.
This barbarian stallion, though, looked like he'd been travelling all night. His woollen blanket was so worn, stuck with twigs and and holed with thorns as to be virtually a rag, and his sporran was rusted and rotten. They matched the matted coat and mane framing dull, dark brown eyes.
"Ponyville," he said after a half-minute's shared staring, "Where be Ponyville?"
Zecora turned and pointed a hoof. "Go that way an hour or two, and you will reach your kind. I heard them come that long ago. What made you fall so far behind?"
A light flickered in the stallion's eyes, a light that glittered disturbingly.
"T' cooward left twa days afore Ah knew," the Shetlander growled, "Ah've been runnin' hard since then, an' noo Ah have 'im."
He turned to head on, then stopped as if remembering something. "Thankee, kind mare," he said at last, as though he rarely had reason to say such things. "Twa hoors," he murmured to himself as he walked, then trotted away, "an' Ah'll be rightful..."
Zecora just stood there, foreleg raised in shock, all thought of mint gone from her head with the last word she heard.
Had that colt really said, "Ah'll be rightful Laird"?
Silphium: A herb probably related to fennel, known for its contraceptive properties. In reality, this plant went extinct due to over-harvesting.
Zebrabwe: The distant, southern lands where Zecora hails from.