I feel like sharing this, so I will. · 9:37pm Feb 23rd, 2014
“Marry me, Barrel!”
My head jerks up. No, I wasn’t hearing things; Barrel, my dearest friend and the hostess of The Tin Whistle, has just been proposed to by one of her fine customers.
It’s a sailor, no less—one of a group of three. The smell of the salt is still fresh upon them, and it’s plain they’ve got things on their minds besides their drinks. Barrel seemed to know them, and they’d looked friendly enough, so I wasn’t too concerned... until now, that is. The one that’s just proposed is deep in his cups, and his friends aren’t too far behind. Randy sailors? Could be trouble, I’m thinking.
I throw Smasher a quick look. He starts moving in to defuse the situation, but then Barrel throws him a look, and reluctantly he sits back down. She turns back to her group of sea ponies.
“Nay, Royal,” she says, grinning wide. “Marrying you sounds right fine, but it ain’t the stallion I’m saying ‘no’ to. It’s the occupation. It just wouldn’t do, you being a sailor and all.”
“Wot?” says Royal, his pretty blue ears twitching in confusion.
“It means I’m not cut out to be a sailors wife. No, it wouldn’t do, you always being called away to your duty, and me left out there crying on the docks, not knowing if I’d ever see your smiling face again. No, it just wouldn’t do,” she says, shaking her head in mock sadness.
“So ye’d be coldhearted enough to turn me down after I’ves gone and plithed me troughs right in front’ve me mates? An’ me what would love ye a thousand times better than any unworthy lubber!”
“Ah, but Royal,” says Barrel, laying a hoof on his elbow. “It would make your poor mother drop dead to see her fine son carrying home a common girl like me, wouldn’t it? She’d want to see her boy go to a real lady that’d clean him up, set him on the straight path, like. Davy, Miller, you’d say the same about your dear mothers, wouldn’t you?”
Royal’s two friends nod in solemn agreement, but Royal is most persistent. He shakes his amber locks, then clutches at Barrel’s hoof and holds it near his chest.
“Me heart only beats for you, luv. And it’ll surely break if’n you deny me.”
“W-Well, all that stuff aside,” says Barrel, her cheeks reddening in a most becoming way. “There is one other small detail. I’ve already given my heart to another pony.”
“Who?” says Royal, jumping halfway off his barstool. “Point out the scab an’ I’ll run ‘im through, and then we’s can be married and live happily for good and ever. Is ‘e here now?”
“Aye. She most certainly is. Do you see that unicorn seated over by the fireplace?”
Her eyes cut over to me, as do three other pairs of eyes. All of them bug out.
“Her!” cries Royal, and he points at me with his tail. “That scrawny thing? An’ she a... a lady! An’ a fine lady, too! You means to say the love’ve me life is sleepin’ with another mare?”
I am neither scrawny, nor a fine lady, but I let it slide. I give the three rogues a dainty little wave, which sends them all into a frenzy of muttering among themselves.
“It’s true,” says Barrel. “So you’d best say all your goodbyes tonight, ‘cause I know you ship out tomorrow. That mare over there’s named Trixie, and I love her and I’m leaving with her in spring. I won’t be here for you sorry lot of swabs to fawn over when next you make port.”
Royal’s head sinks to the bar in despair. His friends take the news better, but not by much.
Ah, lass,” rumbles Miller, shaking his bearded head. “Y’ve gone an’ made a terrible mistake, ye ‘ave. T’aint right for a mare to deny an honest sailor his ‘opes and dreams by beddin’ another mare, no it ain’t. Ain’t sportin’, like. An’ besides, think’ve all the fun yer missin!”
Deep chuckling and winks and nods are traded all around, half-hearted ones from poor Royal. Barrel just straightens up and gives them her best opened mouthed grin, not at all cowed. Good for her, I say, even though Miller is dead wrong. We haven’t actually gone and done that just yet. We’ve hardly ever slept in the same bed, even. I’d promised myself I’d take things slow with her, and I have, so far. Mostly.
“Aw, cheer up, lads,” she says, slipping easily into their own butchered way of speaking. “Surely such fine gents as ye can find a lass what’s a real lady like ‘er, not a poor excuse such as meself.”
“Even so, dear Barrel,” says Davy, the youngest and cleanest of the three. “Will you give us a kiss? I spend many a lonely night up on the watch, aye, yes I do, an’ I could do with happy thought’s that‘ll keep me nice and toasty on a cruel winters eve.”
“They’ll do more than that, you dog.” Barrel laughs at his cheek, but she leans in and does it anyway. Davy blushes a most comely shade of pink, and his mates slap him on the back and send up a cheer.
“A toast!” cries Miller, rising out of his chair and swinging his mug up. “To Barrel, an’ the Tin Whistle! Best damn drinks in Trottingham an’ the most worthy lass in Equestria!”
The patrons all roar their approval. Barrel and I lock eyes, and a quiet understanding passes between us.
“It’s fine,” my eyes say to her. “Dance, be happy, and make your customers happy, too. I can’t always expect you to be good, hmmm? But we’ll still be talking about it later, you. Count on that.”
Her eyes dip, another faint blush crosses her cheeks, and all is well.
Trixie is a sly pony. And trusting. Good for her.
D'aww.
This got me to finally get around to reading In a Tavern, Down by the River. Well played.
This was amazing. Happy to go back to this story.
1869499 Well, not quite yet. I still want to finish Greyfeather and Loving Accusations first—or perhaps after I finish LA, I can start practicing the art of writing multiple stories. I could use the practice.
1868796 That's great! I hope you enjoyed it.
I enjoyed the original story and I enjoyed this.
Not really a lot else to say here.
1971194 You still commented, and I really appreciate that. Thanks!
1972299
You're welcome. I'm under the weather at the moment so it's extra hard to be witty and insightful, so I'm glad you still appreciated the bare-bones comment.