Chapter 25: Sprout
Knowledge. Wit. Focus. A sense of theater, even if only in a petty amount. Such qualities were of great use to anypony whose job was to lead a tour around. Guiding a gaggle of ponies here to there, showing them perfect presentation, and educating them at each stop with just the right amount of hypnotizing information was what made for truly terrific tours.
But they were qualities which Venus and Vesuvius seemed to quite lack in coherent combinations, even between each other. Not to say that they didn't complement each other in some ways.
The island lady did bring plenty of imagination to her role as a tour guide, but it took the form of often speaking about what 'would be' or 'could be' and less of what actually was. She also had a tendency to travel without destination, both in her lead and her lectures. Every fork in her thoughts simply HAD to be taken, no matter where it led or even how complete her current business had been, and sometimes the same behavior bled into choosing the next destination. The tour group could stand in one spot and be taken a dozen places, or could be going to a dozen places and be brought back to the same dreamy thoughts. Every thought and every place seemed linked to the present in ways which were scattered at best and wishfully fictional at worst.
And where the lady brought zeal the island sire instead brought some control. His sense of direction was better honed than that of his mare's; he tended to resolve her worst indecisions, but only after they had gone on too long. Very much he limited himself to whims, often answering her with, "Why not?" or, "If you'd like," instead of recommending, "This way," or, "That way." But if there was one phrase of his that the guests had hammered into them from repetition it was one which he directed specifically at them frequently: "Please don't wander off!" Other than that he did add his own words often enough to the formal presentations, but he had a preference for letting his lady indulge herself and thus favored giving up many of his best speaking chances to her.
In their own heads there was something the island masters loved about what they were sharing, but whatever it was that had attracted them to their island and what they were trying to create on it just didn't proceed sensibly from their presentation. It hardly appeared as if they had rehearsed their tour. Or perhaps they had never discussed a plan at all.
For some of the guests the lackluster state of their efforts wasn't much of problem. For them, politeness on their part or enthusiasm on the guides' part covered the worst of the gaps. Likewise those who lacked a real interest altogether got along just fine on endurance and a healthy amount of silent thoughts. And for ponies who cared more about their company than any tours, there was enough of a crowd to keep them distracted.
But the situation sure drove Twilight bonkers. It was like following a map, but without the map. Like reading a book whose pages had been randomly rearranged. Like watching a play built from the disconnected scenes of ten other plays. Her brain worked meticulously to link all the facts logically, but the sheer amount of arbitrary irrelevance and careless order in them was the makings of eternal suffering.
Not to mention that all the excess nonsense got in the way of her true goal: to delve into the mystery of the original islanders. Venus and Vesuvius were keen to lead the tour all around their resort, digging into everything that had been built since after they had come. But even as official custodians of the island they weren't terribly inclined to showcase anything of its historical interest; anything that came from before them. Only now and again did old history pop up as either a supporting peep or a simple side-thought.
That ancient past even felt more invisible than before. At first arrival, when the guests had disembarked from the boat, the clear evening air had been so vibrantly foggy like that of a heavy dream's, and at that time the island hosts had talked about the past many, many, many times; it, and its influence, and its power, and its magic. But this second day in, with every guest wide awake from the crisp midday air, the things of old were never highlighted, and on tour they weren't even displayed in so much as a museum-like space. The only thing promoted now was a hoped future hung on the skeleton of a modern novelty they were excited to erect.
Little room was left by their great sales pitch for more relevant questions from the knowledge-thirsty unicorn. Without natural openings to make pertinent inquiries she was forced largely to inject herself into the conversation in odd or frustrated ways. And even still, the island masters chimed the same old refrain:
"So do you put on shows which celebrate the culture of the original islanders?"
"Unfortunately we don't really know enough about what they were like in order to do that."
"But, are the performances perhaps at least somewhat based on-"
"There's no writings that they left behind, that we know of."
...
"Were terraced gardens like this common on the island?"
"We don't know."
"But if you examine the ruins left behind then you can at least make some guesses as to-"
"There aren't much in the way of ruins still standing, sadly."
...
"In putting together your whole resort, how much would you say is inspired by the spirit of the island's original inhabitants?"
"Oh, we work hard to dig up all the knowledge we can for the Island Society. We believe the ponies here knew something TRULY SPECIAL, and we want to echo that to all of Equestria! ... But... there's so little we know for certain..."
"But you've been here working on your resort for awhile now. So... how much do you know, do you think?"
"Well, Twilight, you have to understand that there's a lot of work which goes into creating a resort, and we're not even open to the public yet. We have to follow designs of our own wherever we... don't have the documented evidence to draw inspiration from."
The dispirited unicorn never found the chance to discuss the records she and Gallowayo had spent all morning poring over. The island masters were always sailing sunny miles away from the subject, and any mention of it by Twilight would have just been a lengthy and unwelcome storm.
What a dismal tour.
After the showgrounds and front garden had been covered the tour had moved on through nearly every room of the Passion's Embrace itself, or so it felt from all the stairs and walking. It had then at last hit some newness when the guests were led out the back of the big building. Where front had boasted the joys of beach and boardwalk, and the building itself had the amenities of a hotel, the place behind it had been built to meet all other resort needs. There, much smaller buildings of disparate styles were mixed together. Some were quite clearly utility and not meant to catch the eyes or attention of guests, even though they were crowded together with brighter ones who announced themselves openly. The temporary, the grungy, the industrious; together with the permanent, the clean, and the relaxing; mixed in clashing chaos like contrary roommates.
In some ways the jumble was just a 'downtown' only in miniature compared to any big city, and certainly it was also laid out in a less coordinated fashion. It wasn't like a garden planted in dug lines. Instead it seemed that a new structure had been laid down in the first open lot every time a new need or new idea had come forward. Navigating wasn't always a matter of finding the right 'street' (where such a term didn't even make sense anyway, absent any stones in the ground to mark walkways) but of sometimes mazing through trodden paths of dirt that squeezed between the differently-shaped buildings.
Fortunately none of the buildings stood tall, so the great vibrancy of the island interior wasn't hidden while moving about. Such natural lushness had only been hinted at from the beach, peeking around the Passion's Embrace which had blocked the view inwards. Now it was the beach which was vanished behind the building, and the greener world announced itself freely and with great panache. Any space that hadn't been cleared for development belonged to the open jungle, which generously shared all it had without stingy reservation. Branches and leaves bowed and turned their arms open in welcome, trees leaned aside so their neighbors could have cozy room, and vines hung close to their hosts to avoid getting in the way of the plentiful sunlight that streaked unhindered through the loose crowns and down into flowerful places.
No great vistas were readily available though. The island was made of hills and valleys, few terribly tremendous or significantly shallow, and the main resort was quite naturally built in one of the valleys. The Passion's Embrace was a mountain to the west, young hills barely stretched up in front of the shore to the south, and their fatter cousins closed off view of everything else. The only ways out of the resort valley were back to the beach or along the several trails that climbed up the hills or between their plentiful nooks.
Through the bizarre village the tour went along, and predictably enough Venus and Vesuvius stopped by every building which had a large sign mounted on it or was painted in bright colors, regardless of any otherwise completeness. Some lacked modest coverings on their walls, others lacked some walls altogether; some were messy with construction inside, others had a mess constructed in them. Meanwhile the tour ignored any building that was ordinarily dingy, or commonly industrial, or drably plain, or simply just unlabeled, regardless of how whole and functional they were. This strategy raised few flags in most of the guests' minds; the ignored places appeared very uninviting except to anypony with an employed purpose.
Or to anypony with an overly curious mind.
Twilight often had her attention on the many things which went undescribed. While the tour guides happily showed off their sauna (or what was so far built of it at least), she gazed past the steamy pools and out the window, to a dusty shed where stained smocks hung by the door. When the company was presented with the massage parlor (to be fully completed and staffed at some vague point in the future), she paid more mind to the cracks in the construction through which she saw an open-air stand with plenty of glistening bottles lined in a row, sat out to dry next to the big tub they had been washed in. And as everypony was given a glimpse of the miniature fitness center (with intact walls and ceiling, but no equipment, mats, or mirrors!), she gave a glimpse of her own to the window of a nearby building through which she was certain she saw an array of vials filled with colorful liquids and stacks of books with dozens of pages earmarked.
At one point the tour group walked by an odd building with a temporarily permanent construction; ergo Venus and Vesuvius ignored it. Stone pillars were locked into place by heavy wooden supports which also held up overlapping sheets of ribbed metal to serve as walls. The structure had been built over itself again and again to expand more and more as some need for size had grown greater and greater.
The unicorn's walking eyes lingered on it for a long, long time, nearly causing her to crash into Applejack ahead of her. There was no second floor to speak of, with a tabletop-thin roof laid and locked over the rickety walls, and rather than having any ordinary door on its face it had a sectional door which rolled up and into the building like a garage. This feature Twilight picked out easily enough since the triply-wide door was rested open while they passed. It floated below the ceiling of a long hall which ran straight to the back of the structure and had several fat, floor-to-ceiling entryways on either side, without doors or curtains. Her imagination suggested it was probably a good place for storage, particularly of large or cumbersome things which needed several ponies to move them in and out of. Her intelligent guess was best served by a stolen glimpse she caught of one of the inner entryways. Through the rectangular cracks she spied, for just a moment, darkened lines of knotted wood standing side by side; almost certainly the face of a heavy-duty shipping crate.
It all slipped from her mind quickly as Vesuvius burst with another yell that called everypony along. The sheer snap of his voice made her feel almost as if he was tugging at her personally, and the embarrassment lit a small fire under her hooves such that she hurried along, away from the interesting sight.
In time the tour reached a final building – the bathrooms, of all things – and after it had been exhibited Venus and Vesuvius immediately led everypony down one of several paths that wound out the back of the mini-village. Each trail forked off in different ways, finding their own points to pass under the leafy and sunlit boughs of the lazy jungle, yet not one of them was labeled with so much as a sign to signify their ultimate end. The particular path which had been selected curved a little bit more inwards than most of the others, towards the center of the island, but never did the tunnel of trees and vines become more dense or oppressive. The whole way through the guests could peep between tree trunks to watch the rustling greenery wiggle from the tickle of afternoon breezes which came along from somewhere near, and the light winds were sleek enough to weave along at their own leisure.
It only took a few minutes of walking before the long the trail began to dip, shortly thereafter opening up to a bright blue sky. Upon a shallow slope it turned and ran smoothly down into a deeper valley ahead. From the bending path the guests were granted a spectacular view over the whole of the dale, and while it was more vast than a grand amphitheater it was not any mind-bending stretch of infinity. On all sides little hills rose up sharply to only a friendly height, with trees young and old across their faces forever-waving hello in the snoring wind that climbed in and out of the valley. The floor of the happy place gorged itself on fresh sunlight; everything of the jungle had been cleared away to make space for fertile farmland and open orchards.
Applejack admired the scene with a whistle. Seeing the plots of fenced-in land and the ordered rows of trees invoked such a homey feeling, and she unwittingly started to push forward among the group of ponies. She couldn't wait for the feel of soft dirt on her hooves, their tips tingling with an eager sensation like in the moments before stepping into a hot bath.
"Here's a special little piece of paradise!" Venus introduced the crowd to the sight as they all continued to march down the slope. "It's small now, yes – you see that the orchard is quite active while the rest is longing for use – but we're very focused on making sure we get everything perfect before we expand. This, after all, is the HEART of everything!" To herself she giggled, and while descending her worshiping eyes never spared a moment for anything except the valley and her stallion love.
But Applejack had different eyes for everything. Now that it had been pointed out to her she DID quite keenly see the difference between the lively orchard and the abandoned farms. Several ponies were busying about between or above the lines of trees; it wasn't a harvest season yet, but they were quite determined and dedicated in checking root and trunk and branch and fruit regardless. Meanwhile all the rest of the empty fields sat unloved. Dry dirt was rampant with ornery weeds, fences in some places hung together only loosely when they weren't in outright need of repair, and what little buildings lived on the cold land could hardly be called quaint. A specter might have found the corpse homes cozy, or maybe also a crazed mare who couldn't tell the cobwebs from the wispy wires of her own white mane.
The farm pony stretched her uncomfortable mouth in a thoughtful frown.
To cap off Venus's speech Vesuvius called out, gruff and repetitive as always, "I'll remind everypony not to wander off! And especially HERE do not touch anything you aren't given permission to handle!"
"I have a question," Twilight intruded for the hundredth time.
"Well-," the island stallion glowered back at her, ready to pitch his irked stubbornness against her more innocent and curious stubbornness.
But Venus rubbed her calming smile up against him, teasing his tinder-like temper until it hid itself, and he released a heavy breath before he politely passed responsibility away, "The day-to-day management of this valley is overseen by the talented Mr. Till, so if you have any questions about it then you should direct them to-"
"This is about the original islanders," the inquisitive unicorn clarified.
"OF COURSE it is," croaked Vesuvius, shaking his head. He didn't invite her to speak any further. What use, when of course she was going to?
"Was this valley used as farmland by them too?"
He declined to answer, tiredly nodding to his lovely mare.
"The island had been abandoned by ponies for so long," Venus gently raced over the already many-times-reiterated knowledge, "so I'm sure it won't be a surprise to hear that this valley was very overgrown when we first came. It's hard to make any guess at-"
"Yes, but before you could put your own farms and orchards here you had to have carefully cleared out the land to avoid damaging any historical evidence, right?" Twilight's exasperation didn't at all take the form of insult or doubt, but even her friends were rolling their eyes at her obsessive mania. "So, from whatever you did find, surely you could have deduced at least some-"
"Well, Twilight, you see... ah..." the island lady tried to push out her response even without having anything ready to say.
Her stallion, a gripe in his voice and a greater hardness in his steps, reluctantly waded back in, "I think in some ways you may have been happier with a trip to the archives on Pinto Rico. Recall that this is a joint effort between us and the Island Society. We take care of the island and help their research, and of course we do absolutely everything we can to understand it ourselves as best as we are able, but our main purpose is to build and run our resort."
"Yes, that's right," Venus was swift to agree. The escape jolted some happy relief into her, though it didn't cover over any of her earnest remorse. "I'm very sorry we don't have all the many answers you're eagerly looking for, Twilight. Perhaps...," a hope glittered out of her every pore, and she spoke with all the wishes of destiny, "... one day YOU'LL help us to find the buried truths."
"So...," Twilight limped through a final remark, "... you didn't find ANYTHING revealing in the valley?"
"Anything we found," the mare insisted pleasantly, "was delicately dug out of the ground, looked over, and then preserved and packaged for shipment to the Island Society so that they could study it more thoroughly."
"Now then, here we are!" Vesuvius took control before there could come any more troublesome questions. He belted his voice over all the guests. "This way please! We'll take a short break here – water, bathroom if you didn't have your chance before; whatever you need – before we move on to the Pleasure Gardens. And stick together! Don't wander!"
The trail landed at a comfortable spot near the largest and only active orchard; right at a grassless lawn before a small house with a happy face, separated from the trees by an ordinary fence. The house wasn't any permanent home for anypony but merely a quaint place for the orchard ponies to rest between labors. It was the eyes which gave that away; many of the littlest touches of home were absent from the windows: no personally-selected drapes, or potted plants for color, or decor hanging from the interior wall. But the lawn itself was welcoming, pleasant with a few tables for working ponies to lunch at if they didn't want to eat under the cooler shade of the trees, and even some linens waited to dry on a simple clothesline off to the side.
The guests broke into groups and spread themselves about once more, with friends attracting and repelling friends in the same manner as their recently-passed lunch. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie shared yet another table, now missing Hulahoof who had left before the tour as he had said he would. Rarity was a queen, her full entourage ever-following. Prism still accompanied James closely, absolutely needing to reserve a whole table for just herself and the man. Without Gallowayo, Twilight joined Fluttershy and Applejack, and all three mares shared a silence that they appreciated for differing reasons. Humble Herd had vanished long before the tour, no reason given.
Till took Nosedive with him into the house and both stallions emerged not long after with the promised water, bringing it out by the pitcher. Quite visibly Till was in charge; Nosedive did little more then distribute glasses before he was through. He thought to join Rainbow Dash's table as quietly and discreetly as possible, perhaps with a polite excuse about how few tables there were, but there was still a single empty table which would have made his explanation rather conspicuous. He resigned himself to his friend's advice and laid low, almost out of sight, at the empty last table.
One pony at a time Till served the water, table after table. (Sweet Nothing insisted on pouring for Rarity himself and Till obliged, having come to have expected it.) By the time he had finished his whole first round – from island masters, through chatting man and mare, through his lonely friend, and the rest – some thirsty ponies had already finished and needed more water. So around he went again. And again, and again; without a fuss he cycled laps along the tables until he finally went a full circuit without once having to pour a drop of water for anypony.
Satisfied, he left his half-drained pitcher behind on a table that didn't have one. Rather than join Nosedive however he walked aside and stood before the fenced orchard, watching the island ponies there as they casually sweated through their early afternoon.
For a time his mind was serious on his responsibilities over the orchard, losing any focus he had left for potentially thirsty ponies, so the greeting that eventually came over his shoulder did catch him by delightful surprise.
"Pardon me a right moment," Applejack said.
"Hello!" he proudly welcomed her direct attention at last.
From his perspective looking at her, just over the brim of her hat was lonesome Nosedive at his table, a mere apple's toss away. The pegasus hadn't missed her greeting to Till. The chocolate stallion would've batted a mischievous wink at his friend if it had been a more secluded moment.
"How can I help you?"
"Well," the farm pony launched right into it, "had my eye on your lovely little orchard here since we came down the way and, wouldn't you know, some questions done sprung to mind. The horse heads over there said to be asking you any such things." She squeaked an eye at him a little more carefully. "You'd be the highly-spoken-of Mr. Till after all, is that right?"
"That's what most ponies call me," he gave a small nod of his head.
He waited for her to follow up with her first further question, but some nagging thought had gotten stuck in her head. An unrelenting, persnickety, amusing, ticklish piddling of a nagging thought that danced in ever more silly swings the longer it stayed stuck. There was something about him that she had almost certainly noticed in her subconscious at some point, but it was only at that moment that the basest part of her brain had begun to peel the wool from her eyes, and when the unfiltered truth finally came through she had a good laugh on the inside. Her hoof bopped her chin twice and then pointed out at him.
She announced her jolly realization, "You're one of them Till-folk, aint'tcha?"
"And you are, without a doubt, an Apple," the stallion smiled, very thrilled with her recognition. He had not anticipated it at all.
The farm pony roared a laugh, "Well if'n you hadn't figured that one out yet then you're as thick as a hoof callous in harvest season!"
"True; everything your friend wrote about you screamed it. But now that you're right in front of me it couldn't be any more crystal clear!" He again nodded but this time carried farther, going into a full and respectful bow, and he introduced himself with aplomb. "Plottington J. Till. Though, again, Till is plenty good. Charmed to meet you."
"Name's Applejack, as you know," she was herself quite charmed to repay the introduction, not for the least reason because of the excuse it gave her for the usual promotions (which surely Twilight had not rendered appropriately), "manager of Sweet Apple Acres, the pride of Ponyville and the grower and purveyor of the finest apples, apple-related products, and fineries of other delicious and sometimes practical sorts, in all of this here great nation of Equestria. Howd'ya do?"
"Quite well, myself. And you?"
"Never better, I reckon." And immediately she tossed all of her original questions into the back of the wagon, forgetting valley and orchard. A good-humored grin stamped onto her face and she asked him genuinely, "So what's a feller like you doing way out here in the middle of the ocean? Don't y'all Till-folk live on them big plantations dotting the Ol' Commonwealth? The ones what been in your family for generations, if'n I'm remembering correctly?"
"Haha, I know!" his spontaneous laugh came from his gut. "This really seems more like one of the oddball places you'd find an Apple, the way your family fills every corner of Equestria somehow, right?" Easy he moved back into a pleasant sort of conversing. "But yeah, I was born and raised on the family plantation, Montmarillo, like all my dams and sires before me. So I'm definitely one of the rare Tills, heading out elsewhere like I have. I don't know how interesting a story that is, though."
"A mighty compelling one, I might imagine," Applejack said, reminiscing, "I went wandering off once too, 'fore I figured out for certain that home is where I belong. And course that became the story of how I got my cutie mark."
"I don't know if it'll be quite the same for me," the stallion replied. He jiggled his flank, showing off that he had of course already long ago discovered his cutie mark: a diverse but orderly set of tools perfect for gratifying the earth and coaxing the loving best out of it. "I KNOW for sure that I'm going to be here for the long haul. I... do admit to missing my family a bit, though."
"Well shucks, you do what you gotta do, but ain't no reason you can't take a break to go back and see the folks as often as you like," the farm pony consoled him genially. But her next comment snuck back into a removed murmur, "Uh... no reason 'cept travel expenses I guess. Ocean an' all."
Till accepted her encouragement by tipping his head and brushing with his tail with warm appreciation, and then he answered, "Yeah, I haven't been back for a long while. It's hard to find the time. There's a lot to do here; ESPECIALLY managing the orchard. I'm afraid of how many steps backwards it might take if I let my eye off it for too long."
"Heh heh heh," Applejack's chuckle was deep and slow, "I know the feeling. Sometimes ya think the whole farm's gonna come apart if you're not out there caressing every tree like they were your own foals."
"Actually, being the manager, I don't get so involved with the direct work. I mean, that's not the style of farming I learned growing up anyway. The hired hooves always did the sweating."
"Aw, where's the fun in that?" she playfully groused. Her humor didn't fade, but a streak of seriousness came forward as she continued, "How're you supposed to know the land you work on if you ain't getting your hooves dirty on it every day? How're you gonna get the best outta each tree if you don't get to know'em by name? A farm needs plenty of water, but a good some of that has to be your own sweat if you want things to come out all roses and peaches! Or apples, as the case might sometimes be."
He defended himself, also slipping somewhat into teasing, "Well, I'm not entirely useless! I can plow a field or two, and buck a tree here and there! But somepony has to keep the game plan tight in their head, especially with an operation as delicate as this."
Then just a little, with an entertained glint, the stallion squinted at the farm pony.
"You know, you remind me a lot of Mrs. Gold," he quipped suddenly, bringing the conversation through a sharp turn, but the delight he brought out had quite some age to it.
"Auntie Ginger!" exclaimed Applejack. "I guess she DOES live about your way! Or, your family's way rather! You ever have much to do with that spicy slice a' Apple?"
"Oh I never had a problem with her," he said, before a serious fit of chuckles laid siege to him, "but she sure liked to give my dad trouble all the time. She'd show up to many of the local fairs and always beat us out in their baking competitions, with her apple turnovers, and apple biscuits, and apple rhubarb crisp cakes, and apple pudding pie. And at the markets where we'd try to vend OUR apples she'd always show up and set up a much more rickety stall and outsell us by miles. There wasn't a customer who came by and picked ours over hers, especially if it came down to a taste test."
Although he was certainly not absent of love for his father he still grinned mischievously, "It really infuriated my dad; how she always got the better of him. I don't mean any offense but—actually you know her a bit yourself, right?—she's none too humble, in a mostly endearing sort of way. Certainly even as a colt I thought she was getting a kick out of showing Dad up. After all, we were this enormous, productive, wealthy, diverse plantation with a huge manor on our estate; thirty-two rooms, if you don't count all the walk-in closets. And she had this teeny little apple orchard with a rinky-dink golden-brown cabin whose second room is what most other ponies would call 'the attic.'"
Applejack loved each and every single word of Till's story, listening to it and holding her head haughty as if she herself was collecting vigorous and lauding slaps to the back. The tale was mostly unfamiliar to her; her aunt's side of the story was only in her recollection as a faded picture painted in strokes of vagueries drawn one or two at a time during the family reunions over the years. But family was family, far and wide, and the proper triumph of one Apple was the triumph of all Apples.
"Hehe, yeah, she can get a little fierce at friendly competition I remember," the farm pony said, proud as the tallest post in the fence. Friendly she teased the stallion, "Did your old pony do a fool thing and actually try to BEAT an Apple at their own game?"
"Yeah," Till admitted through a smile burdened by absolutely no shame. "I kept trying to tell my dad: 'Let it go. She grows better apples. We got a million other things we grow that she doesn't which make us a success.' But he just wouldn't shut down our struggling apple business and kept trying. Wounded pride or something, I guess."
"A bit of a headstrong fellow, is he? S'fine. A little thickness in the noggin can do you some good if you got to take some lumps to get the job done right," Applejack asserted. Yet still savoring her family victory she declared, "But when you go up against an Apple you gotta remember: however headstrong y'are, we're headSTRONGER!"
"Well... at APPLES, I'll admit." He winked.
The farm pony set free a healthy laugh before she floated gracefully back down into casual conversation.
"So, for real this time: how'd you steer yourself from life on the big plantation to working on the most unheard-of-est island in all the Carriaggean?"
Till seemed to have a million thoughts on the subject swirling around his head, all old and tired and worn through. If there was some preferred version of his personal story then he had never bothered to settle on it.
"Maybe the small disagreements with my dad contributed to how much I stayed away from home," he suggested with vacant purpose. "Mom and Dad, but my dad especially, always talked about how many generations of Tills had lived at Montmarillo, and I love my home with all my heart, but I still pushed them into letting me do more overseeing of our extended markets; you know, sales trips and everything. Anything to get me a little more time away."
The retelling didn't much make him sad, though a certain shadow of regret moved over him. It was thin and wispy, much more drowned out by the shining work of his present self and the eagerness he felt for what he had ahead.
"Anyway," he went on, "that was how I met Venus and Vesuvius. They were out looking for cheap suppliers of fresh food for their venture here, and we just happened to cross paths in Chestnutpeake. I put in a bid, then later they wanted to meet to discuss it further, so I invited them back to Montmarillo so Dad could have his say."
"And that about did it then?" Applejack asked.
"Sort of. Dad was definitely skeptical, and I admit that the pitch those two gave wasn't the most convincing. I mean, in business terms," explained the stallion. "I had a good feeling though, and anyway better to lock ourselves in early than later, right? Dad didn't quite see it that way, but I guess after all my recent clamoring for some independence he finally decided to listen to me for once." A smile both self-satisfied and warm with tickled modesty crept up his face, and he thought through all that had happened between then and now. "But...," he said in thankful quietness, "... his one condition was that I go to check the place out personally first before we commit."
"Ahhh, I read ya. And THAT about did it?"
"Oh, that it did!" Till cheered with an exceptional amount of mirth. Despite his boisterous expression there was some red memory on his face and he couldn't quite look directly at the farm pony. "Once I came here, well, then I knew I wasn't going back. I was going to be a part of this whether my parents approved or not! So I offered myself to Venus and Vesuvius, and they were thrilled to have me."
This time Applejack didn't share his elation, and she fell into concern.
"Ah, shucks," she worried, "things were that bad?"
He returned a queer glance at her until her intended meaning struck him, and he replied, "At home? No—no, no, not really. I mean, my decision was more about HERE than THERE." A hesitation got a hold of him, and through one or two tough efforts he did earnestly try to be silent and let the matter rest, but he couldn't. "I guess I do sort of... mostly only talk to Mom now, but that's all on Dad; goodness knows I try to keep in touch with him even if he doesn't really respond. He was just, uh, a LITTLE upset to receive my letter saying that I wasn't coming back. Mom swears up and down that he's not so much angry as he is brokenhearted, but..."
The stallion had a slow moment of heavy thinking, with hours squeezed together into the span of just a second.
"... my choice to stay wasn't really about them, or home. I swear."
"I ain't questioning ya," the farm pony said calmly. She was still somewhat worried, able to see that underneath his altogether healthy and happy appearance the honest truth played a tiny game with his face.
"Right. Well," he went on, "I still managed to convince them to invest as suppliers, so there's that. But in the meantime, I'm sticking here."
Applejack nodded and nodded again, granted some of her usual plainspoken agreements, and then finally thanked him with a tip of her hat for sharing his story.
"I reckon that puts us on a fairer playing field as far as mutual knowledge goes," she said. "It ALSO explains why that apple you left in my room yesterday wasn't top shelf, heh. Thanks for that also as well, by the way."
"Oh, yeah! No problem," he graciously beamed. "Maybe a little while from now we'll have a better supplier for our apples, hm?"
"Ha! You sure do know how to tickle a pony's fancy! If I knew this was gonna be a sales trip I woulda come more prepared!"
At last the farm pony felt her questions returning; the fresh scent of the orchard wafting over the fence had always keep them from entirely disappearing from her mind.
"So, seeing as I got nothing more than my own charming personality to make a pitch with," her voice darted off towards the trees, "maybe instead of talking apples we can talk about what you got here? I'm mighty curious."
"Certainly," Till agreed, and his mind and attention was given back to his work. He hooked his legs over the fence while inviting the farm pony to do the same, which she swiftly did. He explained, "This little orchard really is the very heart of everything here on the island, though I know it doesn't look it right now. Overseeing it is the biggest, most important responsibility I have here, so for once it's nice to be able to make the decisions I think are right without having to argue with Dad about what's best for everypony."
Applejack regarded the again intrusion of the stallion's father with some short-lived suspicion, but she was too eager to move on and thus let it go. She pressed him, "I'll say it doesn't look like much. More than half the valley is dead as a desert in an extra dry drought! Y'all could be growing so much more here, instead of spending bits on boats to haul fresh produce 'cross the ocean."
Her concerned criticism didn't alarm Till in any fashion, causing no shirk of hidden fears nor haste for bandaging excuses. "That's always been on our mind, and there are plans for it, but we're in sort of a 'first things first' stage still." He pointed at the living orchard.
The farm pony took in the field of trees with more detail now that she was closer than ever before, and she hummed rather unhappily at her discoveries.
Although it was far more green and bustling than the dead fields its many trees still weren't a picture of health. Not all their trunks had rigid muscle fit for holding up branches heavy with fruit. Likewise some had bark that only clung apathetically, or was fallen off elsewhere where it had given up, looking like patchy and diseased skin. Not even the moss cared to take a taste of those particular trees. Across the orchard's crowns the leaves filled the whole spectrum of wet and withering to crunchy and crisp, but the mix changed randomly from tree to tree and sometimes even within the branches of a single tree. Nothing seemed uniform or consistent; not like the great families of strong apple trees back at her farm.
But maybe her judgment was too sudden, since these also weren't apple trees either. Their tops were not nearly bushy enough but instead much trimmer, and they grew taller and into a spike, though their leaves were just as broad and flat. The tighter shape was reinforced by strangling vines which wrapped the branches every which way; the choking vines themselves bore the fruit rather than the branches. With such tightness there was less overall room for fruit to grow, leaving even the healthiest looking trees somewhat lightweight in load.
What fruit was there was not round and red but rather was bumpy and bulbous, particularly near the bottom, like all of their juice had leaked down and fattened them in a lopsided fashion. If the farm pony had to guess, she would have picked the brownish and green ones as the young and unripe fruit. The ripened ones were painted in a range of warm colors which swirled all together. At some places the shades of color went into the deepest, darkest, most dangerous crimsons, but elsewhere they faded right into the most jumping, joyful yellows. No two patterns were identical, giving each individual fruit a small amount of personality, though the ones that were visibly gaunt or maybe even ill blended together in a more indistinguishable way. Their colors took on a repulsive quality that was hard to describe, blurring their already wild gradients under what looked like a slimy coating over their skin.
It seemed like the orchard wasn't going to yield the islanders anything close to a bountiful harvest season. At Sweet Apple Acres the goal was always to build every season up towards a veritable rainfall of apples so dense that afterwards the fields had to be swam through. But the starved supply on this orchard's branches and vines hardly seemed like it would give the island ponies more than a drizzle. And that was IF they managed to save every last fruit they currently had. Some were at that moment already set to fall, with stems no stronger than stretched thread, and for those it definitely wasn't because they were ripe.
"I don't mean to put any doubt on your talents...," Applejack began, and finished. Everything else she thought was unmistakably implied.
"No offense taken; this particular fruit is a challenge to grow, let me tell you," said Till quite truthfully. "So maybe that helps clear up why it's so important that this orchard gets in shape FIRST before we spend resources on anything else."
"What is it you got here, then? These trees don't seem familiar to me at all."
"They shouldn't be. As far as anypony knows this fruit only grows on this island and nowhere else."
"That right?" Applejack spoke, her curiosity reinvigorated compared to her concern for the seemingly sorry orchard.
"Mmhm." Some pride came out of him, some reverence too, and more than a little hidden heat in his cheeks. "It's some truly special stuff, that's for sure."
"Well heck, let's give it a taste and see what all the fuss is about!" the farm pony shouted and hopped the fence. She went right up to the nearest (healthy-looking) tree and rolled her hips like a belt winding energy into an explosive bucking mechanism.
"No, wait!" Till nearly leapt the fence himself.
Applejack did freeze her powerful buck with her legs in mid-lift, catching herself only a sliver of a moment before she was about to tear the roots of the tree right out of the earth. It wasn't only the supreme urgency of Till's request that halted her, either. She had glanced back to him, and in the sea of resting ponies behind him she had very easily caught Vesuvius staring at her. Granny Smith could turn disapproval into a weapon with just her old-mare leers, but the island master had something far more quietly eruptive in him.
"You can't have any," pleaded Till. He more tenderly added on, "Not yet, anyway."
Plopping her hooves down she returned to the fence and rested herself on it again, though she stayed on the far side. Standing side by opposite side the two ponies were mirrors; each up, leaned, and with heads turned to look directly at each other.
"Well why the hay not?" the farm pony curiously complained.
For the first time the stallion's mouth ran in one direction while his eyes seem to run in another, though nothing at all of what he spoke triggered any offense in Applejack's honest sensibilities.
"It's still a delicate situation," he said. "I mean, all this you see here? These trees not so very filled with fruit? We're going to be able to keep maybe... oh, one quarter of the yield or so. We can't afford to be wasting some on taste tests."
She cast an eye back at the orchard, not fully understanding.
"Why? What do you do with the rest?"
"There is no 'the rest.' The rest just... doesn't make it."
It took a moment for the math to sink in, and not from any mental frailty on the farm pony's part.
"You mean to tell me," she gasped in disbelief, "that outta all this here little orchard, three quarters of the harvest is going to up and DIE ON THE VINE?"
"It's stranger than that," Till answered, curling his mouth to the side, "but that about sums it up, yeah. I mean, at least it's better now than it was before." When Applejack gave his statement an agog stare, he filled her in with a twirl of gloomy humor, "Yeah. When I came on board and took over for Venus and Vesuvius only about maybe ONE IN TEN made it."
"No kidding?! What kind of fussy fruit DOESN'T WANT to drop so badly that nearly whole harvests go bad?" But she nodded at him, "Sounds like you HAVE done some mighty fine work if you got those numbers up, even as little as ya have. Sorry if I doubted."
"Oh, thank you!—But personally I think you're not so off the mark with 'fussy.'" All his long vexation over the matter came together and filled him, and he leaned heavier onto the fence. Across the orchard he looked, from tree to tree, taking the farm pony with him through the short, silent journey. It was clear now that he had never at any point been ignorant of the unusual and unwell look of many of the trees, but instead had long been struggling against it. "The biggest thing that helped improve everything," he revealed, "was just changing out some of the working ponies."
"Say what now?"
"Well, I've experimented with a lot of the usual things, but not much of that seems to matter, at least past the point that the trees had everything most trees need to grow healthy and strong. But these here..."
The face he made was unique. Not a scowl, nor a thoughtful stirring, nor a snippy snarl, nor plain bemusement. He shook his head dressed with his one-of-a-kind look.
"... they really ARE quite moody, and sensitive. They just... didn't like some of the ponies, or didn't respond to them well. I found that by permanently pulling out the ponies they seemed to hate and putting longer hours on for the ponies they liked, they started responding better. Though it's still kind of random, and they change their minds frequently and they get picky. I mean, I've known plants that can be a little fussy, to use your word, but some days I swear these trees either want to hug you or scream at you, and they're never sure which."
"Now I've heard some strange tales before," said Applejack, very forthright but also sharing some of his bafflement, "and even seen a remarkable thing or two myself, as so happens when you make a habit of palling around with a princess's pupil. But... you ain't saying these trees are rotting their own fruit just to SPITE ponies they don't take a shine to?"
He shook his head.
"I'm not sure just what to label it as. And ROTTING isn't the only thing. It's not very consistent, what happens. Some do just rot and fall, never having had a chance. But others look so well and then when they drop on the ground they just turn to mush. Others, still, look rancid their whole life in the branch and even fall with ugly flesh, but then you cut them open and they're perfectly fine inside. And that's just the ORDINARY problems. I mean, when I said 'stranger' I really meant it. Some... shrivel and start turning to ASH, like their seeds had spontaneously burst into flames. I've seen a few just swell up to ridiculous proportions before they POP and their unripe juice spills all over the grass. One time... well, one time we knocked a tree to harvest it and when the fruit hit the ground it-... it just shattered like an icicle. The pieces were FROZEN, despite the temperature and constant humidity here."
Each detail brought only more and more confounding rattles to Applejack. She furled her lip; she waggled her hat; she squeezed her one eye while her other peeled open; but no matter what trail of thoughts she followed she always felt she was looping back to the lost place she had started from. There was only one memory in her mind that came anything close to what the stallion had described, though how much that memory applied was not something she could guess at.
"Well good golly, if that ain't a bundle of bad zap apples," she marveled after Till had finished. "I'm no Twilight, but if I had to guess I'd say your little orchard here has a bad case of the old M-A-G-I-C."
"There's really no doubt (for as much as that narrows things down)," Till replied. "However, nopony's been able to figure out just what is doing it, or how, or why. We haven't been able to lure a pony here yet who could make any real sense of it."
The farm pony borrowed some of Twilight's recent frustration in ignorance, groaning, "Them ponies at the Island Society couldn't muster ONE enchanto-pomologist-type pony to puzzle this out? Not that I always trust book-wisdom over the homegrown variety, mind."
The stallion demurred, though not very much hostile or offended, saying, "They're not really... terribly interested in the fruit, I guess we'll say."
But Applejack gasped in doubtful rhetoric, "The preservers of island history and culture are NOT interested in a fruit that ONLY grows on this here island in a valley which Mrs. and Mr. 'Our Island's More Heavenly Than Apple Cream Soda' apparently call," and here her inflections turned into a grim copy of Venus's, "'the HEART of everything!'?"
Her surprise offensive, honest and kind even if it was also rough and sudden, nearly knocked the stallion off the fence. He secured his hold tight, but only to steady himself and not in preparation for verbal combat. Rather, once he was balanced again he came back with a generous amount of candor and repentance.
"The truth is," he said, "the Island Society doesn't really know much about what we're doing here in this valley. Like, I'm sure they know we're growing the fruit and everything, but Venus and Vesuvius manage our liaison with them and those two have been trying to keep this valley low and unmentioned; at least, I guess, until we get a better hold on it."
A moment longer he thought, and then he agreed with them, "And I mean, with trees this weird, maybe it would be a bad idea to ship some seeds off the island for study until we're certain their magic won't do something unexpected? The fruit itself IS very special; incredible even. Everypony gets that. And after they're grown they don't do... anything you don't expect. But these trees... I don't know..."
The farm pony thought to respond, but then merely didn't as she realized she had more to think about than to say. What very bizarre trees! And fair to say caution was not out of place; magic had a way of hiding the hay in the needlestack until the answers you were looking for turned out to have been the questions you should've asked all along!
"Hmm," she hummed away her deeper intrigue for the time being, asking instead with a smirk, "Am I at least going to get to sample your mystery fruit here eventually?"
"Definitely," Till affirmed immediately. "Nopony leaves without getting a taste. Just not right now. And 'corcandeo', by the way."
"Say again?" she peered at him.
"Corcandeo fruit; what we're thinking of calling it, since it has no official name yet and nopony knows what the first islanders called it." The stallion sickened with an ashamed glance, and he cringed while saying, "Venus at first wanted to call them 'heart apples' or 'love pears.' I had to explain to her that they're actually some kind of passionfruit, so apple-or-pear-anything wasn't really so appropriate. I'm hoping the new name sticks; I like it. But then again Gallowayo and I came up with it ourselves, thanks to his working knowledge of Old Equestrian."
"More a' that nonsense?" the farm pony said, recalling the engraved stone in the front garden. "Still, has a ring to it I suppose."
"You think so?"
"Well... it don't quite pop outta your throat like 'apple' does, but..." She winked. "I reckon someponies'll be licking their lips like a legless pony in a pie eating contest at the sound of it someday."
A low whistle came between the two ponies and snagged Till's attention. It was Vesuvius' call, and he was nodding at all the other ponies somewhat impatiently.
"Oh, seems like we're going to be moving on in a few minutes here," Till apologized to Applejack. He unhooked himself from the fence. "I've got to make sure everypony gets any last water they need."
"S'no trouble," the farm pony remarked and vaulted herself back over the fence, joining him on the appropriate side. "But maybe we can pick this up later? Plenty more to be said, I reckon, and I know I'll have more questions. Plus... well... it'd be fun to talk shop with another farmer, even if I am supposed to be on vacation." She had to tilt up the tip of her hat to make room for her big smile.
"I'd absolutely love to," his promise came out with a real weight. He was quick to suggest, "The party later might be a good time. I'll be running the bar and pouring drinks the whole time so... a perfect chance just to sit and chat, I'd say."
Applejack juggled another hearty chuckle in her throat, and she gave him a going-over glance.
"Bartender, eh?" she croaked, still with a laugh distorting her sound. She chucked her head back and forth, "And waiter and orchard manager here. And bellboy and chef back there. You got quite the resumé, Slick."
Till did no more than bow, though with plenty enough flare to indulge her humor. And maybe also in a bit too much of a servile fashion for a pony of his upstanding lineage.
With that they parted, trading very comfortable goodbyes.
The stallion jumped immediately to his assigned task. After recovering and refilling his pitcher he went one last time from table to table, gaily encouraging everypony to have a little more water to drink before continuing the tour, if they were at all even a tiny bit thirsty. In making his final lap, going table to table to table, he took high and hearty steps, not so very much self-satisfied as he was merely generally happy and bright; a pony in tremendously warm spirits.
Some of the trees in the orchard ruffled with the breeze, using the chance to catch a glimpse of the prancing pony, and they raised their vine-heavy branches.
When he had poured his very last drop for the guests he returned to Nosedive's lonely table. Without a word he offered his friend a fresh glass, but the pegasus' original drink had barely been touched as it was and Nosedive declined with a tiny shake of his head. There wasn't much water left in the pitcher anyway so Till just tipped the jug itself back and swallowed the remainder; his first and only drink for that whole respite. Even with the meager amount he had he gave a contented gasp of refreshment after he had finished.
"I'd say you were right," Nosedive mumbled when the empty pitcher had been plinked down. He glanced a pitiable glance at his friend. "Had her eating out of the sole of your hoof."
"You think so?" The remark slid out of Till in a surprised, unready squeak. In one fast shiver he shook out the sunny bewilderment and regained control. "I mean, I hadn't noticed."
His friend regarded the reaction suspiciously, and after a queer stare he picked his head up and asked, "And your plan now?"
"She wants to talk later, so... same as always I suppose."
Nosedive threw his eyebrows up in bitter, envious boredom.
"Good job, Plotts," he said. "Got everything figured out, like usual."
"Nah." It was hardly a cold response, unhurt and unoffended, but the chocolate stallion did roll a gruffness into his cough.
The pegasus dropped his nose again. "Sorry."
"Dive," Till called his friend's nickname, putting it out singularly and strong. Then he simply shook his head in forgiveness.
But the pegasus little changed, and so the chocolate stallion reached out over the table. "You know I invited you here because I've always known you weren't happy on the Commonwealth Weather Crew. You were NEVER satisfied with that kind of stuff, not even when we were colts. Now I know this place hasn't exactly helped your flyer career take off or anything, but... I mean, this... HERE... Here is... BETTER... at least. Right?"
"It's AMAZING," Nosedive immediately responded, speaking in one big breath. But the awe faded fast and he fell right into lethargy again. "I'm not getting anywhere. With ANYTHING." He muttered to himself, "Don't know why I thought she might treat different from a scout or judge."
"Give it time," Till advised yet again. "Relax. Wait. If you really admire her, and you look for the right moment to make her happy, then you'll do fine."
His hoof, still outstretched, wiggled in encouragement of some response. Nosedive noticed, and with his eyes down he took a deep breath, and then again, managing to float them both just above the level of a sigh. He pounded his friend's hoof in appreciation.
"Thanks, Tilly."
As the pegasus sat back up straight he looked at the empty pitcher on the table, and also about at the many glasses wet or dry which littered every table in the area.
"You go on when it's time," he sincerely offered to Till. "I'll put this stuff away for you."
The chocolate stallion grinned and replied, "Not a chance! I got it well in hoof! But... I'll appreciate the help, and the company!"
Meanwhile, the farm pony had returned to Fluttershy and Twilight, and had sat down at their table. But she hadn't quite expected her return to have been greeted with an overly zealous assault by her bookish friend.
"So what did you talk to him about? Did he say anything about the old islanders? Does the orchard here follow an antiquated form of cultivation or have they modified it with modern methods? Don't worry if you think there's terms I won't know; I read extensively on Carriaggean agriculture before the trip, just in case that information was going to come in handy!"
There was clearing of Applejack's throat to get out the surprised lumps, a fixing of her hat which had been jostled out of place by her abrupt jump, and a few blinks to help absorb the crazed look on Twilight's face. Thankfully she had a silent interlude to catch her wits, courtesy of Till who came by and refilled their water before moving on. But once she was settled into her easy self again the farm pony didn't have an honest thing she was unwilling to share with her friend – about the orchard, and the island, and the fruit, and Till. She shared it all, right up until the tour resumed again. And even for a little bit longer afterwards, on their way to the next destination.
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Oh what is this now
a special fruit that even the Island people may want nothing to do with...
hmm
and why don't our two good host seem to know nothing about the island aside from fun facts...
well this is another good chapter mate
see you soon
Heh, despite my overview of the whole resort staff, I like the way Plott and AJ interacted, if shaking my head as to how he kept forcing his dad's mild sob story on her. This sounds like it could be friendship!
The fruit plants are not magical, if you ask me, they're downright eldritch. And Venus calls that orchard the "heart" of the island... but is that heart the source of life, or the core pumper of the debilitating and warping poison that seemingly distorted every dweller's views on love, passion, lust and sex? Hopefully the eight don't get to eat that trash.
The whole thing reminds me of the Myrmecol psychic debacle in the UFO series. It's pretty effed up.
7093596
With a chapter like this it's pretty clear to see how much would have been lost if I had stuck to a much fewer number of island ponies (inversely the story would have been much faster, but meh.) Most of this chapter would have been gone, and whatever is relevant about the fruit would probably have been delivered by Venus and Vesuvius to Twilight directly, instead of through Applejack.
For the record though, I do really like Applejack and Till's interaction too. While 'mirror' was the starting place for most of the counterpart ponies, they're all designed from the outset to go in different directions. Both Till and Summer Wind were belated in me figuring out what I wanted to do with them exactly (you vaguely see this in chapter 15, where they both have virtually no introductions compared to the other ponies), but both of them I've more and more been coming to really, really like as their possible plotlines have developed.