ApplePie Prompt Tag Group Collab!

by Starswirls Beard

Fiddle (Midnight herald)

By Midnight herald

Applejack cracks open the weathered case with a crisp snap and takes a deep, overpowering whiff of varnish and old velvet. She pulls her old fiddle out carefully, puffing the dust away from its smooth red body. She rubs her bow along the lump of rosin, sending out hints of summer and pine trees into the room. And as she leans against the wall on her two hind legs and raises the fiddle to her chin, she smiles and winks at her attentive audience. Then she brings her bow to strings and starts out slow, and old murder-ballad Granny used to sing her at bedtime.

Pinkie Pie sits and sways to the mournful tune, enraptured. Applejack finds herself adding on little trills and ornaments she normally wouldn't, and smiles a bit wider as each one makes Pinkie’s eyes grow wider and wider. Finally she’s had enough slow and sentimental for the night, and she casts off into a lively reel, fit for a square dance. Pinkie starts tapping her hoof against the floor, just a little. Applejack licks her lips and changes to a bouncy little jig, chuckling as Pinkie bobs her head in time with her hoof.

Applejack throws herself into a wild breakdown, stomping her own foot for emphasis, laughing wildly as Pinkie gets up and throws down, shaking her rump in a playful, wonderful way that’d never fly on the dance floor. But they’re just in a room, the two of them, and it’s perfect. Hairs on Applejack’s bow are snapping left and right as she makes her fiddle wail and sing. And Pinkie moves closer, still dancing as wild and free as she ever has. Applejack looks into Pinkie’s playful, bright blue eyes and loses herself in mad inspiration.

And suddenly she’s playing a real barnstormer, but something she’s never heard before. Suddenly, she’s not just ornamenting, she’s creating. And it feels wonderful. After three more times through the ditty she just wrote, Applejack winds it down and ends with a sharp chop of the strings. Pinkie erupts into applause grinning so wide it looks like it would hurt anypony else.

Applejack nudges the fiddle over to Pinkie with a gentle grin. “Give it a go for me, sug?” she prompts, kissing Pinkie on the cheek. Pinkie grins sheepishly.

“I can’t play the fiddle,” she admits, looking guilty as anything. It’s surprising, Pinkie not being able to play anything.

Applejack smiles anyway. “Well, d’you wanna learn?” she asks. Pinkie nods, her mane flying every whichway. Applejack sidles up to her and lifts the fiddle under Pinkie’s chin, curling Pinkie’s left hoof around the neck and tucking the bow into the crook of Pinkie’s right.

“Alright, you hold ‘er like this. Now you take the bow and set it lightly on her strings, and then you draw the bow along straight. You with me so far?” Pinkie nods, a bright smile dancing on her lips. Applejack already knows it’s gonna be a great night.