⤟Hearth's Warming⤠
The brand new phonograph was of exceptional quality and the sound that poured from the speakers was indistinguishable from the real thing coming from a live performance. Octavia had never sounded better than she did right now, and Vinyl Scratch was listening with a critical pricked ear. Of particular interest to Sumac was the fact that the high-fidelity phonograph was made by Scratch-Tastic Industries. Nothing had been said about it, but Sumac found it quite fascinating, that Vinyl had begun production of her own sound equipment, no doubt built to her exacting standards.
A myriad of holiday scents almost overwhelmed Sumac and would be forever associated with the holidays. Sweet and savoury spices, the distinctive scent of beeswax candles, the overpowering perfume of evergreens, every memory created seemed to have a smell that paired with it. For Sumac, this Hearth’s Warming would be truly unforgettable, because it was his first time celebrating it in such a way, surrounded by friends and family.
Though some part of Sumac missed the hungry, chilly moments spent in the wagon.
“Quite a haul, Kiddo,” said Trixie with one raised eyebrow. “You made out like a bandit.”
He nodded, unsure of what to say, but to his own surprise the words came anyhow. “I don’t know what to do with it all.” This was true; in all of his life, he had never had so much stuff. What did a pony do with all of this stuff?
“We have a house now.” Trixie’s eyebrow arched a little more and she leaned down closer to her son. “There’s plenty of space to keep it all—”
“It’s more than that.”
“I know, Kiddo.” Reaching out, Trixie gave Sumac an affectionate pat. “It’s hard for me too, Sumac. You never had a lot of stuff so I never really found out what you had an interest in. Made it really hard to buy stuff. So far, all of your interests exist in the immaterial out of necessity.”
“No wonder he talks like a little, miniature adult.” Cloudy’s soft words caused Trixie to turn and face the middle-aged mare. “You don’t speak to him like he’s a foal. Such big words. Pebble gets it from her parents too. Spending time together as a family has been a real eye-opener.”
“Nopony ever told me that you were supposed to talk to foals a certain way.” For a second, Trixie was pensive, almost lost in thought, but then she shook her head and focus returned to her eyes. “Sumac and I have had adult conversations going back as far as I can remember. It’s weird that I even remember, if I can be honest, because I’ve done so much to forget everything in my life. So many regrets. But time spent with Sumac… I found that I wanted to remember… I didn’t want to forget.”
“Sounds like you let go of the past and worked on creating a future,” Octavia remarked.
“Perhaps.” Trixie shrugged and then squared her withers. “Ever since our little trip to Canterlot, I can’t stop thinking about this stuff. What it is that changed me. What brought me to where I am right now. A part of me has a hard time believing that all of this is real.”
Sumac was just about to share his own thoughts on the matter when Limestone—dusted in flour—trotted into the living room. Now, Limestone, being the sort of pony she was, gave her mother a friendly, well-floured nuzzle. Cloudy responded by trying to shove her daughter away. While Limestone retreated, grinning, her eyes twinkling with mischief, delighted by her mother’s irritation, Cloudy tried brushing away the flour.
“Pebble needs your help, Sumac,” said Limestone while deftly dodging a cuff from her mother. “Come on, I’ll give you a ponyback ride into the kitchen so you can take part in the most sacred of Pie Family traditions.”
As he was lifted up onto Limestone’s back, Sumac wondered what Pebble wanted.
Now Sumac too, was dusted in flour, courtesy of Limestone and his efforts in the kitchen. He had a pale, ghostly appearance and likened himself to being a holiday spirit. Though tired and a bit worn out from his work in the kitchen, he was in good cheer, because he had helped Pebble make a Hearth’s Warming gift for her parents.
The chocolate brown filly seemed so small compared to her father, who stood so tall. Tarnish was drinking ginger beer, the really hot kind that left you all sweaty after you drank some. It was home-brewed, made by Tarnish himself, and Sumac was rather fond of it. Tarnish was standing in front of the window, watching the falling snow when Pebble approached, and Sumac could feel the tension, the apprehension building up inside of him. Pebble had poured her heart and soul into her gift, but because it wasn’t perfect, she was kind of moody.
“Father,” she said while she sidled up close to her dad.
The mug came away from Tarnish’s lips, and he replied, “Yeah?”
A flash of orange could be seen on Pebble’s brown lips, her tongue, and when she turned to Sumac for a moment, staring back over her withers, he gave her a nod of encouragement. She wanted perfection—demanded it—but everything was fine and Sumac thought they had done a pretty good job, all things considered. Tarnish lifted up his mug and began to down his ginger beer in great, audible gulps.
“Father,” Pebble began again, “Sumac and I made you a pie. Limestone showed us what to do. I made the dough and Sumac dumped a load of custard filling into my pie and with his help we got a pie into the oven.”
Pebble was interrupted by her father spewing ginger beer out his nostrils and all over the window. She paused, eyes blinking, looking up at her father with great concern while he coughed and spluttered. Tears ran from his eyes and Sumac couldn’t imagine how much pain would be caused by blisteringly hot ginger beer coming out one’s nose.
Hot and painful enough to make a pony prance in place, by the looks of things.
Glancing around, Sumac tried to figure out what was going on. Most of the adults were acting funny—again. Some were biting their own hooves, some were coughing, choking, and trying to fight back a laugh. Maud was looking right at him and there was something about her eyes, though he could not say what it was.
Vinyl broke; clutching her sides, she fell off of the sofa and rolled around on the floor, shaking with near-silent, wheezing laughter. Octavia turned her head away and coughed politely into her hoof, then coughed again, and then made an odd sound that sounded like a strangled cough-giggle. Lemon Hearts clung to Twinkleshine, her face red, and Twinkleshine was just shaking her head from side to side while the corners of her mouth had fits. Trixie buried her face against Pinny’s neck, and Tarnish’s mother pulled the smaller mare closer while the both of them shook with muffled laughter.
When Tarnish could almost breathe again, Pebble said to him, “It’s peppermint custard. The crust seems a little soggy and I’m rather upset about it. I worked so hard and I think I did everything right and everything was measured just so and for some reason, it still didn’t turn out perfect. What is the point of being so careful if you aren’t assured perfection? It’s not fair.”
The window was messy with ginger beer.
“Limestone showed Sumac how to fill a pie with custard—”
Tarnish choked once more and swayed on his hooves, his eyes bulging. Maud’s sides were heaving, her nostrils were wide, and her ears were folded back into her mane. Sumac could not help but feel that the adults were having a laugh at he and Pebble’s expense. When Maud got up off the couch, Sumac wondered what was going on. Her hooves made muted thuds against the floor with every step and she moved with a smooth, fluid grace that was marvellous to witness.
When Sumac turned his head, his legs wobbled a bit, threatening to give out beneath him, but he somehow remained standing. He was getting better, each day saw more and more improvement. Maud came to stand beside her husband, and Sumac could no longer see her face because she was looking up and standing on Tarnish’s far side. After coughing a bit more, Tarnish sneezed, which left the window even stickier and messier.
“Yuck,” Pebble said while backing away a few steps.
Maud slipped beneath Tarnish, tickling his belly with her ears as she passed, then she dropped her head down close to Pebble, and whispered something that Sumac couldn’t hear. After hearing whatever it was her mother said, Pebble looked up at her father and then went still. There were snickers coming from all around the room and even Tarnish managed to sputter out a weak chuckle.
“Come with me,” said Maud to Sumac.
Though he intended to obey, to be obedient, he lingered, still confused.
Maud took a few steps, her confident, measured stride allowed her to move with a catlike ease, and came to a halt so that she might look at Sumac. “Come on, you’re not in trouble, I just want to talk. In another room, away from all these silly ponies.”
When Maud left him behind, Sumac hesitated for a moment, uncertain, but then followed after the solid-yet-somehow-lissome mare.
Limestone and Pinkie Pie had been cleared out of the kitchen with but two words from Maud: “Get out.” The two sisters departed to giggle and have fun elsewhere while Maud sat down upon the hearth in front of the fire. After a moment, she patted the stone floor beside her, indicating that Sumac should come over and sit down with her. Though cautious, Sumac couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t, but something about this filled him with a sense of unease.
But Maud Pie was a good pony and she could be trusted.
So why was he worried?
Halfway to Maud, Sumac found his stride and his legs seemed to be working without their usual sense of delay. The effect was so profound that he marvelled at his newfound sense of movement. Why, he could even give his tail a flick and not have to worry about his hind legs quitting. It felt so good that he almost wanted to pronk, just to see if he could, but Maud was waiting for him to come and sit with her.
When he sat down, Maud slipped a foreleg around him and pulled him closer. It wasn’t that Maud wasn’t an affectionate pony, rather, it was just that she didn’t show it often. Sumac knew her to be warm, caring, and protective. Moments where she did show feelings or affection were all the more special because of their scarcity.
Maud sighed, a heavy sound, as if a bored anvil suddenly drew breath. Behind Sumac, the fire crackled while casting a cheerful orange light into the kitchen. As for the kitchen itself… it was a mess, but that could be cleaned. The huge mess was just another chance at togetherness, a boring chore made delightful with the company of others.
“When Tarnish and I first heard that Pebble had made a friend, we were overjoyed.” Again, Maud sighed, and when she did, the fabric of her smock rubbed against Sumac’s cheek. “Pebble… is a difficult pony to get along with. She’s a bit like me, in that I am difficult to understand and tolerate. But Pebble has something that I didn’t… a foalhood friend. Sure, I had my sisters… but…”
Sumac waited for Maud to elaborate.
“It’s strange, I never expected to have this much in common or to have this much understanding with my mother.” The flat quality of Maud’s voice was gone now, replaced with the merest suggestions of variation. “For so many years, my mother was a stranger to me. I just… could not understand her. I mean, I loved her, but I always felt that she had the stupidest, most illogical reasons for doing everything. She frustrated me a lot, so it felt good to hit the road and leave home.”
Listening, his ears pricked, Sumac wondered what Maud was getting at.
“Pebble’s foalhood friend is a colt though.” Rather than sigh, Maud heaved a soft snort. “Tarnish can’t help himself, Sumac. This keeps him awake at night, and I must confess, it causes me some concern as well. Tarnish and I… we love you. We do. We love you like a son. I’ll come right out and say it, we adore you. But Tarnish… he has all these anxieties, these thoughts, the hopes, dreams, and worries. And you… you’re the cause of so many of them.”
Now, it was Sumac who sighed.
“Tarnish has crazy thoughts. He’s naturally insecure and is always second-guessing stuff. He worries about the worst outcomes even as he frets over the best. My husband… he worries constantly about what will happen if you and Pebble stop being friends, but he’s also terrified of you and Pebble staying friends, because he knows what will happen when you and Pebble get older. He’s a bit obsessive and he’s having trouble dealing with all of this. Sometimes, by accident, you and Pebble say or do things that just set him off.”
“Yeah?” Sumac struggled to understand, but he had a faint inkling of what was going on.
“I accept Tarnish’s insecurities and have learned to live with them because he accepts me with how I am and has learned to live with me and my peculiarities. My quirks. I am not an easy pony to get along with, or spend any length of time with. Most ponies just sort of give up. They decide that I’m not worth the effort and they go to fulfill their friendship needs elsewhere. But not Tarnish. No, Tarnish is stubborn and thickheaded. For whatever reason, he sees me as this great mystery, and he’s dedicated his life to understanding me.”
Sumac too, thought that Pebble was a great mystery, and he gave Maud’s words the careful consideration that they deserved. Maud wasn’t speaking down to him, or trying to explain this in some foalish way, which he appreciated, even though he struggled to understand. Thinking of what Maud had just said, perhaps the struggle was the important part, because Tarnish struggled. Somewhere in all of this, there was a lesson to be learned.
“So Tarnish… he knows that his daughter has… issues. He was actually in denial for quite a while, but it was Octavia who finally out-stubborned him and made him admit that there was a problem. That caused some friction between them. It strained their friendship and for the longest time, Tarnish lived with crippling fear that Octavia would just get sick of the bickering and leave. He somehow convinced himself that our sacred trust was crumbling. I tell you this so that you’ll understand Tarnish a little better. How he thinks and why he does what he does.”
“Pebble, she’s not like other foals.”
“No, Sumac, she isn’t.”
“I’m not either.”
“And that is the source of Tarnish’s problems.” Maud leaned her head down and angled it in such a way that she could look into Sumac’s eyes. “You and Pebble are foals, but Tarnish… he wants things to work. He has all of these silly hopes and dreams, but some of these dreams are nightmares. You and Pebble are going to get older and grow bolder. Tarnish loves you like a son, but has these fears that you’ll be enemies, as fathers and colts sometimes are. It’s funny, you don’t realise it, Sumac, but you’ve caused Tarnish and my father to become quite close. Late at night, after you’ve gone to bed, they drink together and fret. Mostly, they talk about you, and all of this silly talk about keeping one’s daughters safe. Tarnish has two daughters now, and they’ve consumed his thoughts. Might’ve even made him a little crazy. And somehow, I don’t think talking to my father helps him none.”
As these words settled into his mind, Sumac came to a sort of puzzled understanding about life, something that he was unsure if he could put into words. Everypony had hopes and dreams, and, sometimes, these hopes and dreams caused conflicts when bumping into somepony else’s hopes and dreams. Everypony had something they wanted out of life, and expectations of others who shared their lives. Tarnish, it seemed, had something that he wanted, while Sumac, the foal that he was, still had trouble conceiving whatever it was he might do as an adult.
But Tarnish was also afraid of he and Pebble staying together, of what might come of that, and Sumac had an idea of what that particular that was. What an awful thing for a father to be afraid of. To make matters worse, Igneous was visiting, and Igneous, Maud’s father, had to know that Maud and Tarnish were doing that, so Sumac reckoned that the knowledge of that happening must make things unbelievably intricate between Igneous and Tarnish. Adult relationships were complicated and Sumac decided that he wanted nothing to do with them.
Yet, there was no escaping them and he had no choice but to go forward.
“So Tarnish wants Pebble and I to be together,” Sumac said, almost whispering. “And I guess you do too.”
“It starts when we’re young,” Maud replied, sighing out the first part of her response. “Pinkie Pie would make her toys kiss and give them elaborate weddings… parties. She had their futures all planned out and if you took the time to listen to her, she had very detailed futures. I never saw what she got out of that, but I liked that it made her happy. Of course, I realised one day that those futures that Pinkie had for her toys, those were futures that she wanted for herself. Pinkie had some well-constructed narratives of what would happen… it worries me now that I think about it, because Pinkie has some very specific wants. It’s a shame that she’s already had her heart get broken, because that was never in her narratives.”
“And Tarnish worries that Pebble and I will stop being friends and Pebble’s heart will be broken?”
“Yes, Sumac, every father fears that, even as he fears the consequence of staying together.” Maud’s foreleg slid along Sumac’s spine, moving back and forth in a slow, steady motion, and her gaze became unfocused. “When I gave birth to Pebble, my father got mad at Tarnish. Big mad. It was the most unreasonable thing I think my father has ever done. It caused problems with the family and it even cast a bit of a shadow over the glorious time of Pebble’s birth. My father, he tried to keep it to himself, but it kept slipping out at the worst possible moments.”
Perplexed by this, Sumac asked, “What happened?”
“Marble happened.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Marble figured out what was going on, and she convinced Tarnish to apologise.”
“Huh.” A deep furrow appeared just below Sumac’s horn and just above his brows. “Did that work?”
“Not at first, no.” Maud shook her head, then lifted it and glanced around at the dirty, messy kitchen. “But Tarnish apologised for hurting me and causing me distress. It wasn’t at all logical, it didn’t make sense, and Tarnish shouldn’t have had to apologise for reproduction, the very thing that continues a species.” She let out a huff, shook her head again, and this time, she stared up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “I swear, I don’t understand other ponies. But the apology worked. Eventually, they could sit at the table and share a meal together, but my father kept giving Tarnish that look, and Tarnish, being the poor insecure sort he is, he couldn’t weather that level of intense, paternal scrutiny. Families don’t always make sense, Sumac, so sometimes you have to humour them.”
“And that’s what Pebble needs to learn,” said Sumac to Maud.
“Now I don’t follow,” Maud replied, returning her gaze to the colt she held.
“That other ponies don’t make sense, but sometimes, you have to do something silly or stupid that doesn’t make sense in order to keep the peace. Marble understood it, even if you didn’t, she understood the cause of it and how to smooth it over. Even though it seems dumb to you, it made sense to Marble. Pebble is so wrapped up in her own self that she can’t take advice from others and she doesn’t trust the advice that others give her. Because she’s so smart, she thinks everypony else is so stupid, and that they couldn’t possibly have the same level of understanding that she does. She invalidates the ideas of others without even taking a moment to consider them.”
“That… that… wait… I’m guilty of that.” Maud’s mouth contorted into a stony frown and her ears splayed out sideways. “I do that all the time and there’s this constant low-level resentment that is always there, bothering me. I just stay frustrated at the stupidity of others and I’m bothered that I have to engage myself in their stupid social rituals and—uh-oh. Pebble turned out like me. Only not like me, because she’s more outspoken and… oh… fronk me.”
When Maud swore, it was somehow even worse than when normal ponies swore.
“And of course, being the stubborn mare that I am, I dismissed everything that others said about Pebble because I was her mother and so I knew best. What could they possibly know about my daughter that I didn’t know?” After a heavy grunt, she added, “Mistakes have been made.”
An adult had just admitted that they were wrong and Sumac wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about this. He had, of course, witnessed this before, but this, this was Maud of all ponies, and with her admission of wrongness, she seemed to be having some kind of crisis. It could be seen on her face, her scowling frown. Of all of life’s recent lessons, this was the one most difficult to bear for Sumac, because Maud just looked so uncomfortable.
“You know, Sumac… life does its best to lie to you.” Maud lifted her foreleg from around Sumac, reached up, and rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her smock. “From our earliest ages, we’re told what to be afraid of. Stories… books… they have these clearly-defined scary things. Monsters. Dragons. The big bad scary guy made to stand out. We make such a point to be scared of these things.”
Ears pricked, Sumac listened.
“But in these stories, the very things that for some of us, most of us, these stories form our personalities, and the big bad is never a vague concept. It’s always a dragon, but it is never the crippling social anxiety or insecurity that Tarnish battles every single day. Or an evil magician that does elaborate acts of despicable evil, deeds that make the reader hate them, because they are evil, and they are supposed to be hated. It’s a definable concept that can be grasped by anypony, even a foal. What about my own constant struggle just to fit in and belong? For the longest time, I didn’t think I needed to belong. I convinced myself of that. But then Tarnish came along and the carefully constructed lie that I’d built around me like a fortress… it all fell down. The narratives that we peddle that enforce how we think, they never include these scary things.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Sumac said to Maud, while feeling small and insecure.
Maud’s scowl intensified into something truly unpleasant. She wiped her eyes again, and as her foreleg was returned to rest upon Sumac, her expression softened into something else, something that Sumac, try as he might, could not read. It made his neck ache to look up at her, but he persisted, determined to understand. Maud had just said more words than he could ever remember her saying, but then again, he had made a point of listening. Tarnish listened, and Maud spoke.
Sumac saw a pattern.
“I’m sorry, I had a moment. There’s a lot inside of my head right now, and some of it just slipped out.” She drew in a deep breath, but this wasn’t a sigh. No, it sounded as though Maud was restorting her stoic calm. “This is life’s real struggle, Sumac. Being a family. Having to cope with the expectations of others. This… this will be the most consuming thing you deal with, but also the most rewarding. And I wanted to talk to you about this. That was the point of why I brought you into the kitchen in the first place, but the conversation strayed a bit.”
“That’s okay,” said Sumac to Maud, trying to be reassuring. It sounded as though she needed it.
“You… your family situation just changed in a big way.” Maud’s deadpan was restored and her voice returned to its usual flat, unremarkable tone. “Now that I’ve mentioned it, Pebble’s family situation has changed too… you know, Sumac, without you, I’m not so sure that Pebble would have accepted Megara. You’ve really made Pebble open up in a way that nopony else has.”
How did one respond to that? Sumac didn’t know, so he remained silent.
“I wanted to tell you things, to talk about these family situations, and share what I’ve had to learn. It’s been hard, Sumac… real hard. I want your family situation to work, but I confess, I have my own selfish reasons. You see, I want it to work so that in the future, should things work out with Pebble, that is, you’ll have a better chance of sorting out your differences. By getting started now, by understanding and trying to sort out of all of these complexities. We’re not like other ponies, Sumac. I think you’ve figured that out by now. All those rules that apply to them? They don’t work for us. They work against us.”
“They don’t work for me because I’m an introvert?”
“Right, Sumac, and I’m, well, I’m me. Octavia’s an introvert too, plus, she’s fussy, finicky, and demanding. She’s a hard, hard pony to put up with. Vinyl has dangerous ideas that put her at odds with the establishment and she celebrates her individuality. Because we’re a herd species, this makes Vinyl a pariah. Someday, I’ll tell you a story of the time that Vinyl almost got put into an asylum and Tarnish had to bust skulls. They both ended up in a lot in trouble, but I don’t think I can tell you that story until you’re older. Pebble is… Pebble. Tarnish… where do I even begin with Tarnish? There are times when I am mystified with how he thinks and acts.”
It took effort, but Sumac shook his head. “I don’t see Vinyl going quietly.”
“I want you to have a good understanding of all these relationship quirks now, so you can have a rewarding relationship with Pebble later.” After a thoughtful pause, she continued, “I suppose I’m creating narratives too. I like the idea of you and Pebble being together, being foalhood sweethearts, growing up together, and getting married. I must confess, it makes me happy. But I also worry about things happening, such as you and Pebble growing apart, or having a spat that destroys your friendship. Or things just not working out for whatever reason. No matter what happens though, I’ll always be your friend. You’ll always have a special place in my heart, because you’re dear to me, Sumac.”
“Um, thanks?”
His words got him a soft squeeze.
“Vinyl going quietly, that’s funny, because she’s mute,” Maud said after a moment of amicable silence. “Sorting out all of this relationship stuff is the hardest, most difficult thing you will ever do, Sumac. It is the dragon of this story, the evil magician, the ultimate evil that must be confronted. And that’s the problem into, and unto itself, Sumac. The party of adventurers that you gather to go on this epic quest will all have different ideas on how to approach this evil. You will fight and bicker. There will be moments when everything seems impossible to hold together and your relationships are doomed to failure. We’ve been at this for years now, and we’re still sorting it out.”
“But if I get started now, while I’m young, it’ll be easier?”
“Perhaps, Sumac. I don’t know. But that’s why I pulled you aside.”
“Does this mean that if Pebble and I have foals together, that I should apologise to Tarnish for what I’ve done?”
As fierce as her scowl was, Maud’s half-smile was somehow more radiant, more meaningful, an act of great significance. “That would probably be for the best. I think he would appreciate that. It might be the start of a new tradition, who knows?”
“I don't have much in the way of traditions.”
“No, Sumac, you don’t. We Pies, we have a surplus of traditions. Like when Pebble was born, she was swaddled, put in a pie pan, and presented to Tarnish. I told him I had baked him a little Pie. Pebble said much the same, and poor, poor Tarnish, he was not ready to hear those words coming from Pebble’s mouth.”
“Wait, were you put in a pie pan?”
“I sure was,” Maud replied. “Mom presented me to my father for his inspection. There’s even pictures and everything.” Her eyes traveled upwards, focusing on some nonexistent point upon the ceiling. “When Pinkie was born, my father said this pie was a bit too pink. See, Sumac, traditions are the building blocks of memories. Which is why we celebrate them, cherish them, and follow them. So I’d really like for you to have them. That’s part of the reason why we invited you and your mothers here, for Hearth’s Warming.”
“I’ve had a good time.”
Maud nodded, and her half-smile lingered. “That makes me happy. Tell me, Sumac, would you like to keep discussing this over tea?”