//------------------------------// // A marriage celebration // Story: The House Remembered // by Waxworks //------------------------------// Tikbalang stood staring at the paintings on the walls of her home for a long time. She noticed the sun rise and set in the windows, but didn’t pay them much mind as days melted away, until the snow outside followed suit. She was roused from her reverie when a knock came at the door. “Tikbalang? It’s me again, Plum Pudding. I don’t actually remember if I told you my name before, but if I hadn’t, that’s it,” he said from behind the door. “I’m here to keep my promise. I learned my lesson the first time, and I won’t be putting this one off for years.” Tikbalang walked to the front door and opened it with a hoof, the rusted hinges squealing as she opened the door. Plum Pudding—as he was called—stood on the front porch in overalls and a plaid shirt. His glasses sat on the end of his nose, but he had no hat on this time, just a messy mane sprouting out the top of his head. Next to him he had a case of tools of all sorts she didn’t recognize, and a cart full of other supplies sat at the bottom of the porch behind him. “Well I appreciate you coming,” Tikbalang said. “I don’t know where to start, but you’re welcome to work anywhere you see fit.” As she spoke, a breeze blew through the house and out the front door, whipping Plum Pudding’s mane about. He smiled as he felt it and bowed to the open door, and also her, though he didn’t know it. “Well I still don’t know what you’re saying, but I’ll take that as an invitation. Today will mostly be a quick survey and emergency repairs to make the floors safe for me to stand on, but I’ll work on it, and slowly but surely you’ll have your house back,” Plum Pudding said. Tikbalang stepped to the side as Plum Pudding entered her house. He whistled as he looked about, and began pacing the first floor. He walked the length and breadth of the house, checking the floorboards and examining the windows. She followed him as he went, curious as to what he was going to do and how he would go about doing it. “Who even builds a lone house out in the middle of nowhere like this? How old even is this place, Tikbalang? What in Equestria did your family do for bits?” Plum Pudding asked. “I mean, the place is old, but sturdy, and situated at the top of a hill, meaning it was constructed with money and knowledge.” Plum Pudding made it to the kitchen and looked around. He poked at the basin, looked at the pipes, examined the stove and the oven, and checked out the cupboards. He moved to the living room, checking the furniture underneath the rotten sheets that had been draped over them. He looked at the sparsely populated bookshelves and lifted one of the books off, only for it to drop all its pages out onto the floor. “Oh! Oh dear, I’m sorry Tikbalang. I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said. “It’s fine.” Her breath rustled the pages where they had landed. He put the remaining pages back on the shelf and moved on to the stairs. He tested each one as he walked up, making sure they were all strong enough to support a pony’s weight. He passed through the bedroom, giving each one a glance, until he made it to the master bedroom. Contrary to the rest of the house, this room was still fully decorated. Drapes, paintings, a four-post bed, a dresser, wardrobe, vanity, and a full-length mirror. Tikbalang didn’t come here often. She didn’t know why. Plum Pudding wandered around the room in awe. “Was this your room Tikbalang? This is beautiful.” He ran a hoof over one of the posts on the bed. “There’s even still clothes in the closet!” He disappeared into a door and Tikbalang could hear rustling. “They’re still mostly intact, too!” Tikbalang hovered at the entrance to the room, unwilling to go further in. He was right, it probably was her room, but she didn’t like it. Something bad had happened here, she was sure of it. Plum Pudding kept wandering around, sticking his nose in things—her things—and she felt the need to keep an eye on him while he did, so she stepped further in, following him as he moved from her closet to her wardrobe. The wardrobe was filled with more expensive-looking items and fashionable things compared the everyday items that filled the closet. She was sure if she could smell they would smell of mothballs, dust, and mildew. Fur coats, jewelry, fancy boots and other accessories. They were in remarkable condition for having been abandoned in the woods for such a long time. The whole room was, compared to the rest of the house. Plum Pudding moved from the wardrobe over to the full-length mirror, and looked inside. Tikbalang followed him and watched from behind as he wiped the dust off the mirror with a rag, he adjusted it to get a better look at himself, and then jumped to the side, looking behind him with a cry. “Gah! I’m sorry Tikbalang! I’ll, uh, continue checking the rest of the house,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you by looking at your room. It’s fine. I’ll focus elsewhere.” He scurried out of the room and shut the door, leaving her confused and alone. She looked back at the mirror. He had seen something that scared him in there. She moved closer, but could see nothing. Just a reflection of the room itself. Tikbalang reached out and tilted it up and down, reflecting everything but herself. That wasn’t normal, was it? She should see herself in the mirror, because she was in front of it. That was common sense. She even put a hoof on the reflective surface, and couldn’t see any part of her touching it. It wasn’t there at all, and it should be. This was important, and as far as she knew this was the only mirror in the entire house. That must be why she didn’t come in here. She felt a niggling thought at the edge of her mind, but she didn’t like the feeling. She tilted the mirror so it faced up, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Plum Pudding had already gone back downstairs, and had pulled out some parchment and a quill. He was scribbling down notes about her house, muttering to himself as he wrote. “Hmmm… replace the floorboards here… nngh, maybe… then check that, and look at the… no modern plumbing. Oh!” He lifted his head and looked around. “Tikbalang, I heard the upstairs door shut, are you here?” “Yes.” Her words blew through his mane and ruffled the parchment. “Ah. Is there a well nearby? There must have been, at one point,” Plum Pudding asked. Tikbalang thought for a moment, and breezed through the house out the back door, the banging portal indicating to Plum Pudding where she had gone. She traveled down the gentle slope of the hill to a thicket of brambles and stuck her head inside to see if her memory served her right. There, nestled deep within the thirsty blackberry bush sat a stone well, the wooden cover mossy and neglected like most things at her home. Plum Pudding came out the back door soon after, glancing around to try and find where she had gone, only to lay eyes on the rustling briar. “Oh, of course! Look for the greenest plants, as my dear old dad always said.” Plum Pudding marched down the slope and pushed the thorny vines out of the way. “Ah, there we are. I wonder if it’s still good?” Plum Pudding tried to lift the lid, but it was heavy and held down by the thick vines that surrounded it. It shifted, but wouldn’t come off despite his best efforts. “Damn. I suppose I’ll have to bring a machete next time,” he said. “Well, at least I know it’s here. Thank you, Tikbalang.” “You’re welcome,” she said. He climbed back up the hill and went inside, filling out his parchment with notes as he passed through the house a second time. Tikbalang watched him work as he replaced some stairs and certain portions of the flooring. He avoided her room. She assumed it was to avoid offending her, though she wasn’t offended. He had seen something that made him uncomfortable, and she wished she could ask him what. His work was quick, and a bit hasty, but she assumed from what he had done that it was to give him access to the rest of the house in safety. All of what he had replaced had been on the floor. When the sun began to set, Plum Pudding packed up his tools, but left the remaining wood he had brought inside. “I’ll leave this here, Tikbalang, keep it safe okay? I’ll bring more supplies next time now that I know what needs fixed. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it will be soon, okay? I thank you for your continued goodwill, Tikbalang.” Plum Pudding hitched himself to his cart and walked down the slope along the overgrown road leading away from her home. Tikbalang watched him leave and looked at the pile of wood inside the front door of her home. If he was true to his word, she would have her home back soon enough. She shut the door and stared out the window, letting time pass. Tikbalang didn’t have to wait as long this time. It was only several days before Plum Pudding came back with a cart full of more materials. He came, and bowed at the front porch before he walked up the steps. Tikbalang opened the door for him before he could knock, and he bowed his head as he entered. “Good day to you Tikbalang. I hope it finds you as well as you can be. I don’t know how spirits are supposed to feel, I must admit, but I do wish you the best,” Plum Pudding said. “I am… as well as can be expected,” Tikbalang responded. At the breeze of her voice, he laughed in a good-natured way, smiling from ear to ear. “I have good news, Tikbalang! I have met a mare.” Plum Pudding pulled out supplies and piled them into the house as he talked. “Well, I met her last year before winter began, but I’m going to ask her to marry me. I think she’ll say yes. I’m going to propose in the orchard when the blossoms come in. You’ll wish me luck, won’t you?” Tikbalang smiled. “Of course. I wish you the best of luck.” He laughed and performed a little jig after dropping a pile of lumber. “Thank you Tikbalang. I’ll let you know how it goes.” Plum Pudding began his work in earnest and didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. He was focused and driven, and in love. His mind was elsewhere, but his hooves were sturdy. He went through the house and replaced more of the wood, sanded out lumps, scoured stones and counters, and tore up sections that were beyond hope. By the end of the day, Tikbalang’s house was missing a lot of sections, but she realized it was necessary to replace them if she wanted her house to be as it once must have been. Plum Pudding left, and Tikbalang looked around at her house. It was being fixed. That was a relieving and frightening feeling at the same time. She didn’t know how well he could do, but the progress he’d already made was nice enough to look at. She just hoped he could get the colours to match somehow. She went to stand at an upstairs window, looking out over the green and growing forest as it entered a new year, blooming and blossoming everywhere she looked. She, meanwhile, stayed the same, and waited, once again. It was a little longer before Plum Pudding came back, carting behind him his tools and supplies. He had a smile on his face, and was skipping up the path to her home. He arrived, parked, and looked up at the windows with a smile and a wave. Tikbalang smiled back and waved, whether or not he could see her, then went down to open the door. As soon as it was open Plum Pudding burst in with a laugh. “Tikbalang, I’ll give you three guesses as to her answer!” “She said yes?” “She said yes!” He performed his little jig again. “The wedding will be in the orchard in summer, hopefully when the fruit is ripe so the sweet smell of the harvest will bless our union. If it grows badly it will smell like rotting fruit, but we won’t let that stop us!” He stood up on his hind hooves and spun in a circle. “Oh, Tikbalang, if I could, I would kiss you for blessings you have brought on me and my family. As it stands, I will thank you by fixing your house. I cannot promise I’ll be here as often during preparations for the wedding, but I do promise that your house will be fixed. On my honor as the stallion of the Pudding family.” Tikbalang said nothing. She was a little jealous of the mare he was marrying. He was the first guest she had had in a very long time, and it was rather nice having a regular visitor. But he couldn’t see her, nor could they touch, so it was moot. He was here, and he promised, and he had yet to break a promise, so she would wait and see. Plum Pudding sang as he worked through the day, and when he left that evening Tikbalang waved goodbye as he disappeared down the trail. She looked at the work he had done and smiled a small smile. It was slow, and he had only started work on one room, but he was making good headway. It looked like he was even testing different stains, paints, and other colours to make sure the boards would all match each other. That was good to see. She went and stood next to the window upstairs, and waited. She lost track of time again as she waited, and she was surprised to see Plum Pudding come galloping up the path to her home, dressed in a suit. He skidded to a stop at the front porch of her home and bowed low. “Tikbalang! I am sorry I haven’t come recently, but my wedding plans and work have been keeping me busy. I wanted to invite you to my wedding. I don’t know if you want to, or if you care, but you have brought fortune to my life, and it would mean a lot if you would come,” Plum Pudding said. Tikbalang was shocked. She didn’t quite know what to make of his offer. She could leave her house at any time, but she never saw much of a reason. She didn’t need to eat or drink, and visiting anypony or anyplace was pointless when they couldn’t see or hear you. Should she go? Plum Pudding waited for the telltale breeze of her voice or for the door to open, and when neither one came come he started getting nervous. “Tikbalang? Are you there? Are you upset that I haven’t worked on your house? I’ll cancel the wedding if you don’t want to give me your blessing. I value your goodwill too much, Tikbalang.” Oh, Celestia, the poor stallion was going to cancel the wedding. She needed to say or do something. She would go, if only to prevent him from thinking she didn’t approve. She did, she was just confused. Tikbalang went down to the front door. As soon as it creaked open, Plum Pudding stopped talking and waited. Tikbalang brushed past him down the path that he always traveled up, hoping that would indicate she was ready to go to the wedding. Plum Pudding grinned wide as he felt the breeze pass by him, headed toward the village. “Thank you, Tikbalang! This means so much to me! Wait till you see my wife, she’s lovely as a peach blossom, and sweet as the fruit it becomes!” Tikbalang walked along beside him as he babbled on about his beautiful wife, and his plans for the wedding and subsequent honeymoon. He promised again and again that he would come back and work on her house after the honeymoon. He talked about his plans for the rooms and doors. He had a pony who could get him some glass for the windows for cheap, and all the different places he was getting the tools and lumber. He talked about how he knew the type of architecture that was used to build it, and he was looking up information on who the house belonged to and when it arrived in the area. Tikbalang heard him talk about all of it, but only partially listened. She was focused on what she would do at the wedding. She hadn’t left her house much, and when she did it was to wander the forest or mountains nearby. She hadn’t sought out the company of other ponies for a very long time, and now she had a pony who considered her a friend of sorts, and he had invited her to his wedding. What would she do? Should she just stand there and watch? It wasn’t like she could talk to any of them or partake in any refreshment. All she could do was create wind. It probably wouldn’t go over well if she blew over any of the furniture or tables. That would be tacky. After some amount of walking, trotting, and a lot of bouncing in excitement from Plum Pudding, the two of them arrived at an orchard of plum trees. Tikbalang had passed through here a few times, since she couldn’t go directly through the town, she went around, and the orchard was on the north side. It was large, and covered a lot of acreage, but it wasn’t the biggest orchard she had ever seen. She wasn’t sure what the biggest orchard she had seen was, but she knew this wasn’t it. Today, however, the orchard was not a place of business, and was a place of decoration and celebration. Tikbalang smiled at the ribbons, flowers, tables, chairs, and ponies that dotted the area. There was a small stage set up where she assumed the two ponies would be wed, and seats set up nearby where the rest could watch. A lot of ponies were already seated, waiting for the main event. Plum Pudding was accosted as soon as he arrived by five mares, one of whom was older than the rest. “Plum where have you been? It’s your day, and you’re missing, come quickly!” As he was dragged off, he looked around for what Tikbalang assumed must be her, and gave a little wave. Tikbalang stood at the edge of the crowd and waited for a few minutes, before she saw ponies crowding around the podium. She moved closer, a gentle breeze accompanying her hoofsteps. “Mares and gentlecolts! We are gathered here today…” Tikbalang stopped listening and looked around at the ponies gathered for Plum Pudding’s wedding. There were a lot of them here, and she discerned that he must be rather well-liked. Most of the faces were smiling, and there were ponies of all ages. He was likely a hard worker, being in charge of an entire orchard. The only orchard she knew of around the town. The decorations and food weren’t cheap either. Nor was his suit. Now where was his special somepony? Tikbalang waited as the pony droned on and on and family and love, until he mentioned Plum Pudding himself. Off to one side, from behind a screen, Plum Pudding walked out to stand on the podium in front of the judge. He was looking rather dapper, having had himself cleaned up by the five mares who nabbed him. Tikbalang followed his gaze as he looked to another screen off on the other side of the area. From behind it came Plum Pudding’s special somepony, dressed in a flowing gown of white and gold. Her mane was done up in a beautiful yet solemn bun, and decorated with golden chains and trinkets. She was led by a stallion Tikbalang assumed was her father, and trailed by two foals of different ages that she guessed were younger sisters. Tikbalang couldn’t help herself and moved closer, the gentle breeze of her passing causing the mare’s dress to flutter. Plum Pudding smiled wide as he saw it, but he stayed put, waiting for her to arrive next to him on the podium. Tikbalang stood close to the mare and looked her over as the wedding proceeded. She felt a small surge of jealousy of the beautiful mare, dressed in her fine dress, and her mane styled, meeting her special somepony to get married and live happily ever after. It was a beautiful moment she could not properly take part in. She was happy for Plum Pudding and his wife, but sad that she could not congratulate him properly. When the two ponies kissed to seal their marriage, the audience erupted in cheers and applause. Tikbalang applauded along with them, but avoided shouting. She didn’t want to blow everypony away by accident. The cake was cut, the two were congratulated time and again by ponies around them. Food was served, drinks were poured, and dancing was performed by everypony in a raucous and festive celebration. Tikbalang stayed and watched, staring with envy at the two newlyweds. She’d had something like that, once upon a time. She was sure of it, but it was long lost. Tikbalang decided she had had enough and walked closer to Plum Pudding and his wife. “Congratulations, Plum. Enjoy your honeymoon.” Plum Pudding felt the breeze and smiled. He stopped dancing to wave in no particular direction, then turned back to his wife. Tikbalang walked out of the orchard, then broke into a gallop when she was clear of the delicate decorations. She sped through the forest, blowing past trees and leaping over bushes, just running for the sake of running. She traveled through the forest a long way, uncaring of time and distance. She couldn’t exhaust herself, but she tried. After some time, she turned back toward her home, knowing instinctively where it was, and began walking, the turbulent feelings inside her spent. When she arrived, she was surprised to see Plum Pudding there, working on her home. She always lost track of time, so it wasn’t unheard of, but she didn’t know how long she had been gone, and she thought he would still be on his honeymoon. “Hello, Plum. Thank you for your work. How was your honeymoon?” she asked. He turned to look at the source of the breeze and smiled. “Tikbalang! It has been a while! I was wondering where you had gone. My honeymoon was amazing, by the way. We traveled to Canterlot to see the castle, and stopped at Ponyville to see the Castle of Friendship. It was a wonderful trip,” Plum Pudding said. Tikbalang smiled and sat down to watch him work. She didn’t know if she was jealous or not, but she had to admit she felt something when he talked about the time he spent with his wife. She didn’t want to admit to jealousy, but it was the most likely culprit. At least she had the time he spent repairing her house to herself. Unless his wife was a carpenter, it was unlikely he would bring her here. Plum Pudding worked, and talked. He had finished filling in most of the holes on the first floor and had begun working on the second, which was a lot of progress for the time she must have been gone. The windows were still broken, but he promised to get those fixed soon. When he left, she watched him go and shut the door behind him, then walked to look at the patches he had placed in her home. It was excellent work, and the stain he had picked out was a near-perfect match. She ran a hoof along the new wood and sighed, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction upon looking at it. She couldn’t wait for him to come by again. The next time he came, as promised, he repaired the windows. He wanted to protect the house from the elements, and the floors and windows were the most logical to that goal. He broke a pane of glass on the first trip and had to put that off for next time, and he had the wrong wood for another one, but he left it in until he could make a new frame for it. Over the next weeks, his progress slowed, until one day he showed up, galloping in an autumn rain to yell at the windows of her home. “Tikbalang! My wife is pregnant! I’m going to be a father! Woohoooo!” He danced in front of her house for a few minutes, cheering and whooping before he ran back home. Tikbalang watched him dance, but could not bring herself to congratulate him. She knew in that moment that she was, indeed, jealous.