//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: Treasure Trove 
// by HeatWave 
//------------------------------//

	She raced back and forth moving almost faster than the eye could see, overturning drawers and emptying out cupboards with reckless abandon. If its job was to hold, conceal, or contain something it became a priority target.
"Quill! Quill! I need a quill!"
She continued to phase from point to point, looking desperately for any sort of writing instrument. One of her jaunty ventures sped her towards the nearest entryway—the barn's back door—but as she got close her body tensed, and she instantly ceased all unessential activity, giving full attention to what she knew was coming.
Ear Flop.
Eye Flutter.
Knee Twitch.
Heeding the call she promptly took several steps back from the doorway, which true to form, abruptly slammed open.
"WHAT in tar-nation's goin' on in h—Pinkie Pah?"
"Hi Applejack!"
Applejack took one look at the interior of the kitchen. She was quite dismayed at the sight that met her eyes. "What've ya done did to my barn, filly!" she cried.
"I'm so sorry, Applejack," Pinkie exclaimed, not sounding particularly sorry at all, "but I had such a super awesome amazing idea that I just had to write it down! And since I can't go back to the Sugarcube Corner until closing time, and since Rarity wasn't home and Twilight disappeared and Rainbow Dash is too hard to visit I thought I'd come here! I need a quill! Do you have one?"
Applejack just stared at her friend with a slack-jawed expression, sorting out the best way to react to the given situation.
Pinkie didn't have the patience to wait. "It's ok if you don't have one," she said, bouncing back to the task at hand. "I'm sure I'll find one around here some—whoa!" her movement was brought to a jarring halt as she was none-too-gently yanked back towards the door.
"Lemme git this straight," Applejack said, finally finding her voice as she spat the pink tail in her mouth onto the floor. "Yer tearin' my barn apart like a madpony lookin' for a quill?"
Pinkie nodded vigorously, "Uh-huh! Or a pencil! Do you have one?"
"And yer just sittin' there, lettin'er do this?" Applejack asked, turning towards a nearby table where a bright red stallion with an orange mane sat, munching quietly on a bean-sprout and tomato sandwich.
"Ee-yup," Big Macintosh said between bites. He'd long since learned not to interfere where the reputable party pony was concerned. It was almost always easier to let his sister Applejack deal with it.
"An' ya couldn't be bothered tah show 'er where we keep th' pens 'n pencils?"
"Ee-yup."
Applejack released the strongest sigh of frustrated resignation known to ponydom. "Ah step outside fer five minutes—"she paused to grab Pinkie by the tail, preventing her from escaping a second time, "—an' this is what ah come back to?"
"Ee—"
"Don't say it, big brother," she interrupted, shooting him a glare. The stallion promptly complied.
With another sigh the orange pony finally addressed the bubbling mass of pink. "Pinkie Pah, we don't keep th' writin' instruments in th' kitchen." Applejack raised a single hoof, indicating a door on the other side of the room, "They're in th' study. Now if'n ya follow me real calm-like, ah 'cn git'cha one."
"Oh, thank you soooo much, Applejack!"
The orange pony rolled her eyes, "I'd 'preciate it nex' time if'n ya'll came to get me first. I don' necessarily like scrubbin' kitchen floors."
"An' you," she pointed at Big Macintosh, "Clean this mess up!" Applejack then led her overeager friend into the other room, who was unable to prevent herself from bouncing in excitement, but as they passed through the doorway the pink pony recalled another reason she had come to visit her friend.
"Hey Applejack, do you have any treasure?"
"Treasure?" Applejack asked in return, not knowing where the question was coming from. "Y'mean, like bits n' stuff? Well sure," she confirmed with a shrug. "We're a bus'ness after all, but like all good bus'ness folk, we do our bankin' at the bank."
Pinkie shook her head wildly, "No, not that kind of treasure, silly. I mean treasure treasure!"
"Treasure treasure?" Applejack asked, slightly confused. "You mean, like diamonds?" She took a moment, trying to remember if she kept any jewelry. "Well, ah s'pose we've got a few up in granny's jewel case, but they don' get used much. Why d'yuh ask?"
The pink pony continued to shake her head even more forcefully. "No, no, no! I mean treasure treasure treasure!"
Applejack stopped at this, turning back to look at her friend, "Okay, y'done lost me now."
Pinkie's head dropped nearly to the ground and she gave a frustrated groan. "You know! Special treasure! Treasure that nopony else might think is treasure but has a special deep significance or meaning that exclusively applies to only you!"
Understanding finally crossed through Applejack's eyes, "Oh, y'mean like mah hat!"
"Your hat?" Pinkie asked, slightly flabbergasted. "What kind of treasure is that?"
The workhorse gave her head a forceful reverse nod. Her Stetson hat flipped off her head into a backwards somersault before falling back into place. "Why, this 'ere hat's been in th' Apple Family fer generations," she explained to her friend. "Pa' gave it to Big Macintosh first, but he gave it to me t' keep shortly after Apple Bloom was born." She paused in thought, "He kept th' harness, though."
"Ooh, yes!" Pinkie exclaimed gleefully, "Things like that! Do you have any other treasure like that?"
Having reached the only desk in the room, Applejack popped open the top drawer and pulled out a quill and inkwell, placing them on the desktop. "Ah s'pose ah got a few keepsakes here and there; mostly stuff's been passed down by th' family. Granny Smith's got that jar that's got the seeds from the first apple ever picked from our orchard, an' Apple Bloom's ribbon was a gift t' my ma' from Auntie Orange—"
"Eh, A.J.?" Turing back to the doorway they had just come through, both ponies saw the frame of Big Macintosh poking his head into the study. "You got 'nother guest waitin' on ya," he announced with his trademark drawl.
Applejack rolled her eyes, "'Course it always gets busy a'fore lunch." She made her way over to her brother, "Ah'll be right back, Pinkie Pah." She followed the stallion as he turned around and re-entered the other room. The door closed gently behind them.
Suddenly finding herself alone and entirely unsupervised, Pinkie made a dash for the desktop whereupon sat the quill and ink Applejack had pulled out. She wasted no time, but instantly began to write.
It had come to her as she had watched the exchange between Spike and Twilight at the library. A new type of party! A themed party! A specific party, catered to the things which the recipient treasured most! If she could discover what that was, she would have the proper ammunition to spontaneously throw a relevant party for any pony at any time!
Not that lack of an excuse had ever stopped her before, but now she would have a focus!
But who to use as the first subject? It was too soon for Twilight, who might become suspicious. Applejack hadn't given her much to use, and Spike's would just be awkward, given what she knew about his particular interest (plus she'd Pinkie Promised she wouldn't tell). There were her other friends of course, but she knew even less about their treasures (and getting the Wonderbolts to cooperate could be difficult). What could she do? Who would be best?
Who to choose... who to choose… who to choose!
As if in direct answer to her question, a muffled name seemed to float through the kitchen door and settle itself gently within her eardrum.
Fluttershy.
Pinkie was a little bewildered. Fluttershy? Pinkie couldn't even remember the last time she had thrown a party for Fluttershy. She hadn't even considered the pegasus as an option for such an experiment, and yet…
Fluttershy!
Pinkie's eyes slowly grew very wide. It was perfect! Under normal circumstances, the party pony was reluctant to host a party that centered on her timid friend. Sure the shy pony had no problem attending parties, but making her the focus of one was always destined to end in disaster. She hated being the center of attention.
But that problem could be solved! If Pinkie held a themed party that focused on what Fluttershy held most dear, she could personally throw her a party and she wouldn't even know it! She could make her the guest-of-honor-without-a-clue! Without any awkwardness or shame; no regret whatsoever! The idea was slick, it was subtle, it was almost so good that Pinkie felt evil just thinking about it.
She'd have to first figure out what keepsakes Fluttershy had, but she would worry about that later. Right now she was too busy. This new party idea had opened up all sorts of additional party options. What about other themed parties? Why had she not thought to do this before? There was no need to look for an excuse to throw a party when she could just make one up whenever she wanted!
More and more thoughts flashed through her mind, and she struggled to get them all written down. They came to her faster, and with more detail. She was in the zone, and there was no stopping her. May Celestia help all the ponies of Ponyville from that day forward, for there would be no rest from the marathon parties of Pinkie Diane Pie!
Then, suddenly, she stopped. She hadn't meant to—she didn't want to—but the fact of the matter was that she had run out of places to write. Yet though her pen may have ceased its erratic behavior, her mind was still in full stride, and she could feel the ideas continuously flowing forward—blocked in her head by the inability to be converted into written form. It created a traffic jam of thought as more and more ideas were brought to light yet found themselves unable to escape the confines of her brain. It was overwhelming. It was overpowering. She had to get them out!
Desperately she looked around for a blank space; a corner or an edge, even a small indentation! But there were none. She expanded her search outwards, seeking another surface upon which to write, but no such surface could be found. Her behavior became more frantic, her search pattern more violent; but the required resources remained elusive. Throughout it all the ideas continued to build up—begging, crying for an outlet! They plead for her to release them, to record them, to save them from the fate of forgotten obscurity! As her mind became supersaturated and her neural path throughput began to falter, some of them even began to die.
She felt them die. She heard them die.
It was too much for the poor pony.

***

As the door closed behind them Big Macintosh turned to his sister with a cocked eyebrow. "Yew sure it's a good idea t' leave her in there alone?"
"She's got what she wanted," Applejack said, waving him off, "She'll be fine. Now who'd you say was here t' see me?"
"I didn't," the red stallion countered, "but it's yer unicorn friend."
"Twilight?"
"Naw, th' white one."
Applejack gave a start at this news. "Rarity? Well what brings her out here?"
"Donno," Big Macintosh said with a shrug, moving back to the table to resume eating.
Realizing she wasn't about to get any more answers from her soft-spoken kin, Applejack cantered over to the front entrance. She found Rarity sitting within the entryway, eyeing the room with an apprehensive gaze. Applejack knew that look, but she wasn't about to say anything as long as Rarity didn't.
"Well howdy there, friend," She said instead as she approached the white unicorn mare.
Rarity started at the sound of her voice, her attention having been elsewhere. "Oh! Hello Applejack, how are you today?"
"Fine an' dandy, thank y' kindly. To what do ah owe th' pleasure?"
"Oh, I won't be long," Rarity assured her friend. "There was just something I wanted to talk to you about, and I was in the area, so I thought I'd stop by."
Applejack cocked an eyebrow. Rarity was rarely, if ever, 'in the area', so it struck the earth pony as a bit strange, but she'd let her tell the tale. "Well, since yer here, can I getcha anything?"
"Well…" Rarity hesitated for just a second. "I supposed I could do with a glass of water, if it's not too much trouble."
"Not at all. C'mon in." With a gesture, Applejack indicated for Rarity to follow and strode back to the kitchen, grateful that Big Macintosh had already somehow gotten it cleaned up. The last thing she needed was to hear any complaints the unicorn might have about the mess. Rarity, for her part, followed silently, waiting patiently until Applejack procured the requested drink. Rarity took the glass and sipped at it delicately. Her eyes began to wander about the room, and Applejack tensed, knowing what was coming before it was even said.
"Ah unnerstand that my choice of internal decoratin' might not be up to par to yer trained eye," she said, deciding to nip the issue in the bud.
"Actually, I was going to say that I found it rather endearing, after a manner," Rarity countered. "A very old-fashioned style, but it suits the home. I just felt kitchen needed a bit more red—to match the exterior."
Applejack's rebuttal caught in her throat, her retort interrupted with a thought. "Y'know… Apple Bloom said th' same thing not three weeks ago."
"Well then, she's a filly with a good eye," Rarity concluded, taking another sip from her drink, "but you're right of course, I did not come here to comment on your choice of decor." She placed her glass on the countertop and gave Applejack her full attention before continuing.
"I'm worried about Fluttershy," she said bluntly.
"Fluttershy?" Applejack repeated. "What's wrong with 'er?"
"I just stopped by to visit her and I found her in an absolutely dreary state," Rarity explained. "I could not get a full explanation from her, and as you are her closest neighbor, I thought I would ask. Have you noticed anything strange about her cottage recently?"
Applejack shook her head, "Not more'n usual. Though I have noticed an increase in critters hangin' out in th' orchards." She paused as her mind recalled an item she had recently added to that morning's to-do list. "Come to think of it, I was jus' 'bout to go see her myself an' see if she could do anythin' 'bout that. They're startin' to git a bit bothersome."
Rarity softly shook her head, "I might actually be able to explain that," she said, "and I don't know if Fluttershy would be much help at the moment. Her cottage was barren of her pets."
"Barren? As in, empty?"
"It was absolutely deserted!" Rarity affirmed. "It was almost unnatural to behold." She gave an involuntary shudder as she recalled the sullen atmosphere of the home.
"Well, I s'pose that'd certainly 'splain the critter count in th' orchards, then," Applejack said making the connection. "She tell ya why?"
"I could hardly get a full conversation out of her," the unicorn said in exasperation, "she was completely exhausted."
"Y'think she just needed a break?"
Rarity shook her head again, "I sincerely doubt it. I've never heard of her needing such a thing in the past, and she looked just awful. I've never seen her let herself go like that."
As she listened to Rarity's tale, Applejack's concern mounted. "Well, if'n there's one thing I can count on with you, it's yer attention to detail," she said, almost as if a reminder to herself. "Ah'll keep my eyes open, and if I see anything, ah'll letcha know."
"I would appreciate it if you did," Rarity said, offering her friend a grateful expression, "I'm rather beside myself in frustration right now, and I'm terribly worried."
"No worries, I'm sure we can sort this out."
Rarily listed her head to one side in frustration. "I do hope so," she said with a sigh before deciding it was time for a more lighthearted topic of conversation. "In the meanwhile, how is business treating you lately?"
Applejack's eyes lit up. There wasn't a whole lot she could relate to with Rarity; their respective personalities were simply too different to find much mutual ground, but business was certainly one topic that breached that particular barrier. As both ponies owned and operated their own enterprises it was often the go-to topic of discussion when they spent any amount of time together. "We're doin' ok fer ourselves," she explained. "It's a slow time of th' year, so there ain't much to do but tend to th' trees until Applebuck Season starts up. How's about yerself?"
Rarity gave an exaggerated sigh, "Ugh, ever since I caught the eyes of Hoity Toity and Sapphire Shores business has been picking up quite a bit," she said. Realizing that she had not sounded particularly grateful, she promptly shifted emotional gears, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's just that demand has increased tremendously, and I've been rather hard pressed to keep up. I don't know how much longer I can continue before I'll be forced to hire some help."
"Well, I'm sure when th' time comes you'll find plenty o' ponies qualified fer the job," Applejack assured her. "Why, with th' reputation of the Carousel Boutique, they'll be lined up fer miles."
Rarity allowed a small smile to adorn her lips, "I do appreciate the vote of confidence."
"Think nothin' of it, sugarcube," Applejack said. "You've got th' right mindset, and yer good at what you d—DAGGUM!"
Both ponies nearly jumped off their hooves when the door behind them slammed open with such force that it shook the entire barn. Turning sharply towards the sound, they were met with a very startling sight.
Behind the door, now framed by the open doorway, stood a black and pink pony shaped figure. Its chest heaved with ragged, heavy breaths, and it held a look of wild desperation in its eyes. Behind her, Applejack heard Rarity scream in abject horror as something heavy and soft hit the floor. It took a moment longer for the farmer to recognize Pinkie Pie. She was covered head to toe in various notes and scribbles of black ink, even her mane and tail—something that Applejack would later wonder about—and she had an aura of intense distress about her. All in all it appeared as if she'd just taken a wild ride through the typewriter of horrors.
"Paper!" Pinkie shrieked frantically, "Paper! I need PAPER!"
Big Macintosh glanced over at all the commotion, then calmly took another bite of his sandwich.