//------------------------------//
// Piece of Cake...Or Pie 
// Story: A Pup Named Fenrir 
// by MisterEdd 
//------------------------------//

I couldn't have fled from that accursed tent fast enough. Witches unnerved me as magic had long haunted me throughout both of my lives, from the unbreakable grip of Gleipnir to the curse of The Hunger. When Gullveig's heart called out to Loki, did it do so independently or did the witch's spirit linger on, beguiling him with promises of great power? Had Gullveig planned on dying, knowing full-well what would transpire as a result? This had to be the work of Fate, as there were far too many factors that wove this tapestry of woe to be chalked up to mere coincidence. 

My thoughts often turned back to the fortuneteller and I wondered who this "Madame Tarocchi" really was. It'd occurred to me that there could be some trickery afoot and considering that con artists existed in both Midgard and Equestria, I found this to be a worthy conclusion. The more I thought about it, however, I began to doubt this line of thought. Why would some old nag go through such trouble for me? As far as the majority of the inhabitants knew, I was nothing more than just a big wolf and thus possessed no real value; I had no lands, wealth or titles and if Tarocchi was thinking of taking me hostage, then she could've easily captured me with the help of some unsavory cohorts and extorted a fortune from Twilight Sparkle or sold me to some circus. 

There was also the issue of how she came to own such information as she knew details about me that I didn't tell anyone else. True, while I did eventually spill my proverbial guts to the Element Bearers, shocking them with tales of my prior misdeeds, I didn't share everything with them, such as the various appellations that I'd been known as. Perhaps Madame Tarocchi was as she claimed to be, a traveling seer and fortune teller, only one who held genuine powers to glimpse beyond the veil of the material plane. After all, magic was exceptionally prevalent in this world, a factor that was as common to the ponies as water and air so a select few with the gift of foresight was not impossible. But then, why would Madame Tarocchi, if she indeed truly was a vísendakona, live the life of a two-bit fortuneteller scraping out a meager living with a traveling carnival? 

I thought more on my encounter with the old mare, specifically that mysterious smirk and twinkle in her green eye, both of which indicated that she knew me on a personal level. Then there was her scent, an overwhelming odor that carried with it a lingering sense of familiarity, as though returning to a place you had a bad experience at and would rather avoid it at all costs and this made it stand out like a fox amongst a flock of chickens. It was difficult to pin down but if I had to describe it, then I would say it was akin to cinnamon and burnt meat with a hint of crushed mustard seeds. I'd met Madame Tarocchi before but I couldn't place the when or how and this uncertainty was driving me up the wall. Perhaps it was folly to pursue an enchantress but if I wanted answers, then I would have to seek them out myself.  

I scoured the collection of tents and booths, growing more and more frustrated by my inability to locate the sea-green and yellow-striped fabric structure. I returned to the area where I'd encountered her and froze in place at the sight before me. A patch of flattened grass was situated between a clown show tent and a face-painting booth. The witch's scent, which only barely registered with me, and several tent peg holes served as the only evidence that Madame Tarocchi had even been there at all. Frowning, I approached the middle-aged stallion running the face-painting booth. 

"Excuse me, but did you happen to see what happened to the green and yellow tent?" 

The red-brown unicorn furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure. It was here and then...I don't know."

After questioning some of the other booth-vendors, as well as some random ponies, I learned that the tent was simply there one minute, then gone the next. Everyone agreed that such a tent bearing Madame Tarocchi's name had existed-this was a relief for my sanity-but no one could tell me when it was packed up or by whom. When I pressed them, every pony's answer more-or-less came down to, "I just didn't notice" or "I don't remember." Somehow, Madame Tarocchi knew I'd come looking for her and must've cast some spell, even though, through my understanding of Equestrian sorcery, earth ponies were incapable of performing magical acts of that variety. Stranger still, she managed to pack up her tent and leave without anyone noticing or even recalling her departure. 

It was as if she simply vanished into thin air!    

Discouraged, I wandered the carnival with no clear direction in mind. 

"The way you walk is thorny, through no fault of your own. You were fated to suffer in one life but now must continue to do so in this one. To feel the sunshine, you must first hack your way through the dark forest."

Madame Tarocchi's words echoed in my head as I meandered past the fun and games. What further trials awaited me? How long until I could carve out a life for myself without trial and strife? 

"Hey Fen, over here!" 

I made out a yellow mare waving me over and my spirits were immediately lifted. 

Fluttershy was seated at a wooden table alongside Twilight, Rarity, and Applejack, while Pinkie and Rainbow were at a table next to them with Spike and the CMCs. They were conversing amongst themselves and enjoying different kinds of carnival food, such as hayburgers and Prench fries. I took a seat on the ground so that I was facing both tables, my form throwing the group in my shadow but no one seemed to mind. It was nice to see everyone in such high mirth, so much so that I found myself sharing in their revelry and decided that it'd be better to forget the incident with the mysterious fortune teller. I smiled down at Fluttershy, whose face was painted in the orange and white coloring of a fox, a little black inverted triangle on the tip of her muzzle serving as the nose. 

"Are you having fun so far?" 

She nodded. "I took Spike and the fillies to get their faces painted."   

I noticed that the youngsters did indeed have different markings and patterns adorning their faces. Spike bore a little mustache and an eye patch covering his left eye, a skull-and-crossbones situated in the center of his forehead. Apple Bloom's decorations, in a surprising twist, had nothing to do with apples, her face paint instead featuring a red-brown tree over her muzzle and the leafy top covering her eyes and temples like a mask. A grinning crescent moon sat on Sweetie Belle's left cheek and a merry-looking sun on her right. When it came to Scootaloo, I paused, as her face had been painted to resemble that of a wolf's, complete with a light coat of gray over her ears.       

"So you did," I replied in a neutral tone. 

"What about you?" Fluttershy asked. "Where did you go?"

She just had to ask that question, didn't she?

"I visited some fortune teller named Madame Tarocchi. She...knew who I was, knew the name of my father and other titles I was known by in my previous life." 

"She did?"

"That's incredible!" Twilight blurted out, though quickly backpedaled once she realized what she'd said. "I mean, that's terrible but also kind of amazing. I've heard of some ponies possessing extrasensory abilities like clairvoyance or precognition, though, granted, I've yet to witness it firsthoof. I mean, Pinkie has her 'Pinkie Sense' but every test I've subjected her to all have concluded that it's not an inherent psychic ability-..."

"Ah think wha' Twilight is tryin' t' say," Applejack interrupted (thankfully). "Is tha' is jus' plumb weird. Did she ask fer anythin'? Make any kind o' demands?"  

I shook my head. "No, although I had to give her twenty-five bits for a tarot card reading." 

"That sounds like a rip-off to me," Rainbow said casually. "You should've gotten your money back." 

"I tried but I couldn't find her tent. It was like she just disappeared." 

"Oooooh, spooookyyy!" Pinkie waved her hooves dramatically. 

Ignoring her friend's antics, Twilight looked up at me curiously.

"What did the fortune teller say?"

"Something about a figure from my past and upcoming challenges." 

"I'm sure whatever happens, you'll get through it," Fluttershy beamed encouragingly, tenderly rubbing my upper foreleg in a circular motion.  

In lieu of a verbal response, I offered up a cheek-lick. 

We spoke no more of Madame Tarocchi or her dire warnings, and for that, I was eternally grateful. The gang chatted about something or other; the truth was, I wasn't really listening. Being out and about with a group of friends talking and laughing was more important to me than what was the topic of discussion. Friends. How surreal was that?  

Scootaloo was sitting on the end of the bench so that she was on my immediate right, the potato-man toy tightly pressed against her chest as she dined. It was a tad strange how attached she was to that thing, given how simplistic its design and its commonplace value. I began to wonder about her home life, contemplating whether or not she was being properly taken care of but ultimately concluded that it wasn't any of my business and resolved to keep my muzzle out of it. However, she was a good filly and if I found out that she was being mistreated, two ponies would be going missing and their corpses would never be discovered. 

Anyway, they were enjoying Prench fries with lemonade and something called "funnel cake." Upon Pinkie's insistence, I sampled some and found it to be greasy but tasty with a satisfying crunch, though I wasn't keen on the powdered sugar, sticking my tongue out on account of the topping's dryness. I washed it down with some proffered lemonade courtesy of Fluttershy, a juicy-tart flavor that I was unaccustomed to and desired more of. Now I'm wishing that they'd served lemonade in Asgard, which would've been a nice substitute as my sole choice of beverage being water, as the gods believed giving mead or ale to a growing jotunnulfr would've been beyond the realm of stupidity. That was actually, begrudgingly, one of the few things I'd agreed with the gods on, despite my everlasting curiosity to know what mead tastes like and why it gave men such joy to imbibe. 

After ten minutes or so, mostly speculation on my part as I never really had much of a concept of time, everyone decided to do some more walking for another hour before calling it quits. This was fine by me, as I was enjoying being around my friends and having fun, the business with the fortuneteller almost forgotten. The CMCs once more took position on my back, though after a brief period, Scootaloo boldly decided to sit atop my head. The old me would've no doubt become incensed by such blatant audacity, however, I was much different than the old Fenrir. Now I couldn't contain my amusement at the display and a hint of pride may've entered my heart.  

"Look, we're here!"

I followed Scootaloo's outstretched hoof to where a white, red-lettered banner declared:

"The 57th Annual Ponyville Pie Eating Contest!" 

"Hmm, this might be entertaining," I mused aloud. "Come, let's find our seats."

Applebloom giggled. "Naw, Fen, we're gonna find our seats. Yore gonna participate!" 

"I'm sorry...what?" 

"Applebloom went ahead and signed you up!" Sweetie Belle explained excitedly. 

"Yeah, as it turns out, there's nothing in the rules that forbids giant wolves from entering!" Scootaloo added. "So you're in the clear!"  

"Hooray for loopholes!" All three cheered.  

Truth be told, I had never been in a competition before, having been excluded from games during my early development. My puphood in Asgard lacked games, contests or the companionship of fellow youths and besides Tyr, I had no playmates of my own. This would be the perfect chance to rectify that error and to prove my mettle against what I presumed to be Equestria's best eaters. Why not prove my inherent superiority over these peons? 

"Very well then. This could be fun." 

I lowered the three fillies onto the ground and they scampered for the wooden stands, joining the grownups and Spike. Only Pinkie Pie seemed to be absent but this wasn't alarming, as she'd probably gone out to purchase some more fatty carnival treats. From a purely observational and non-sexual standpoint, I'd noticed how she had foal-bearing hips and a doughy backside and that meant she'd have a mate sometime in the near-future. Just imagine Pinkie and her stallion having lots of fidgety, off-kilter, sugar-obsessed offspring. Oh my, a horde of miniature Pinkies bouncing across the land. 

Gods help Equestria....   

Dispelling that particular future outcome of horror and bedlam, I trudged over to a twenty-foot table where five stallions were preparing themselves for the coming conflict, napkins tied around their necks and expressions of hard determination on their faces. I'd honestly expected more husky ponies but then again, you didn't have to be morbidly obese to effectively put food away. My father Loki was known for his prodigious appetite in spite of his more spindly frame, his mighty hunger dwarfing that of even Thor, a man that once consumed an entire ox, eight salmon and three casks of mead in one sitting. Only myself and Logi could match Loki's eating prowess so unless a god or spirit was in attendance, I had no reservations about my capabilities, practically lapping up the sweet, savory taste of victory.  

Unsurprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. Cake each took turns wheeling carts of stacked pies, each one unmistakably carrying the near-overwhelming aroma of apples and cinnamon. Applejack, Granny Smith and Big Mac spread the pies out along the table, handing (hoofing) them out amongst the salivating contestants. I could not wait to shred through these baked dishes but I was able to restrain myself, allowing reason to overpower hunger as I pictured my future triumph. It appeared as though I was not the only one with inner turmoil, the other contestants too staring longingly at the pies. None of them wavered nor broke, however, and for this, I was glad for their self-restraint.   

I looked over to the judges' table, where three ponies, two stallions and one mare, were chatting about matters that neither concerned me nor held my interest until the mare rose and took her place at a wooden podium bearing the sigil of Ponyville. I'd only seen her once or twice, but I recognized the amber-colored earth pony as the appropriately, if somewhat banally-named, "Mayor Mare". She was apparently the town's former leader, serving in much the same way like a jarl or chieftain, but now that Twilight was an alicorn princess, that begged the question of what role she actually served now. I supposed it was a ceremonial thing before deciding that I didn't actually care, filing the query for later and reminding myself to ask Twilight after this was all done. Readjusting her glasses, Mayor Mare tapped the microphone with a hoof and cleared her throat, flashing the attendees a politician's grin.   

"Welcome everypony, to the fifty-seventh annual Ponyville pie-eating contest! I think I speak for my associates when I say that we are thrilled to be here on this momentous occasion!"

Only a small town would consider a pie-eating contest a "momentous occasion". 

"As an added bonus, this year's competition has a new contestant, the first non-pony, in fact, to ever participate. Give it up for Fen the Wolf!"  

I beamed at the sound of applause and raised my head high. 

"Good luck, Fen!" Sweetie Belle cried.

"Wipe the floor with them!" Scootaloo shouted, waving a cardboard sign that read, "Fen for the Win!" 

"Now, our judges have gone over the official rules with a fine-tooth comb, and there is nothing in there that says any non-pony, including animals, are incapable of taking part in the contest so we are willing to allow it. Remember,..."

Mayor Mare pointed to a clock sitting atop the judge's table.

"...Once the signal is given and the contest starts, whoever finishes the most amount of pies in the least amount of time will be declared the winner. The record thus far is eighteen pies in four and a half minutes. Can anyone here beat it?"    

Yes, I can. 

"...Without further ado, let us get to the main event! Are you ready-...?" 

"Wait, hold on a minute!" 

That voice...

Who else but the Pink One herself came whooshing across the grass like gusts from the wings of Hræsvelgr, the air around her ripping hats off of heads and food out of hooves. She slid in on the other end of the table and tied a spare napkin around her neck with alarming dexterity, taking a moment to wave to our friends in the stands. Wait, no one told me that Pinkie was participating too! That mare had a stomach as deep as the ocean's depths and a mouth to match. How in the name of Freyr's low-swinging cock was I supposed to top that?! 

"Sorry I'm late. I thought I saw Sapphire Shores but it turned out to just be a gopher." 

Pinkie then waved both hooves wildly in my direction. "Hi Fen! Good luck in the contest!" 

I thought for a moment and decided that she more than anyone would serve as a worthy opponent to one such as I, the worm to my hawk, the chicken to my fox, the salmon to my bear, the...erm...uh...well, you know what I'm getting at.  I lifted a paw in response, willing at least to show her some measure of sportsmanship. Whether win or lose, Pinkie was my friend and I internally swore that this contest would do nothing to tarnish our relationship. I sincerely wished her the best of luck and hoped that she would put up a fight. Otherwise, what fun would this be?   

Mayor Mare held up a hoof bell. "Are you ready?" 

Pinkie and I exchanged a smirk and nodded.

"Get set...go!" 

The bell chimes pushed the contestants into a hurried frenzy. While everyone else began gobbling at their pies, I spared a moment to snicker at my opponents' futile attempts before I took my pie and swallowed it in a single gulp, foil dish and all. Big Mac eyed me incredulously and set another before me, which too vanished down my gullet. The stallion to my immediate right, a beefy, hulking pegasus with tiny wings and over-sized chompers, briefly choked on his mouthful upon witnessing my true might and spat it out. I grinned at the pegasus before swallowing the third pie whole, the sight of which caused him to outright faint.  

Truly, competitive eating is not for the faint of heart. 

One stallion, who was almost always covered in thick globs of grape jelly for some reason, tapped out in the middle of his second pie, barely even making a dent. The crowd booed and jeered as the despondent pony fled from the table. Heh, I remember when I started eating big-boy portions. These colts were trying to show that they were grown-ups, something so sad that it ended up being slightly adorable. It's always important to know your limits.

I peered over at Pinkie and performed an actual double-take. 

Not only did Pinkie effortlessly pile four pies right on top of the other, but her jaws sprang open impossibly wide, engulfed the pile, and shoved them down her throat. She swallowed, a giant lump disappearing into her stomach but she neither choked nor appeared to get any bigger. No shaking, no tenderizing, down they went! Applejack scurried to retrieve more, nearly knocking over her cart in an attempt to hurry them over to a patiently waiting Pinkie. This time, five pies were laid out before Pinkie but much like Einriði, the food was soon gone. Just what in the Hel was she?!  

I would not be outdone by a pony! Waving Big Mac over, I swiped six pies off of the cart and, just as before, I rammed them all into my mouth and devoured them in a single gulp. I smirked over at Pinkie but in place of a grimace, she instead flashed me a giant grin, her eyes steadfastly meeting mine.

"Game on," she whispered smugly.  

Quick as a flash, we both began shoveling pies into our respective mouths, no longer concerning ourselves with paltry concerns such as records or prizes. It was only the two of us left and that was fine by mine. It wasn't as if the other contestants stood a chance, anyway. This was a trial only reserved for master gormandizers like us and would not be sullied by a bunch of unworthy novices.

The cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo but neither I nor Pinkie noticed as we were too wrapped up in our one-on-one bout. Pie after pie was gobbled up in a messy fracas of obnoxiously loud chewing and splattered apple chunks. What happened next was a bit of a blur but I do believe I was so preoccupied with victory that I almost bit off Big Mac's right hoof. Whoo, that was a close call. It certainly would've been a depressing way to end the day...as well as crippling a friend, of course.

I was snapped out of my feeding trance by a detestable high-pitch ringing sound.

"And that's time!"

Blinking, I looked around and spotted the empty carts. Ha, victory was mine!

The judges spent a good deal of time whispering amongst themselves. I could've easily eavesdropped into their conversation but I elected not, tuning them out as a show of good sportsmanship. Besides, it wasn't as though I needed to listen in when the answer was already known to me. My curiosity was piqued when they waved over the Apples and consulted them on something. Finally, the group separated and Mayor Mare once again took her place at the podium.

"Ladies and gentlecolts, my fellow judges and I are proud to announce this year's pie-eating champion..."

Yesssss....

"...with an astonishing new record-breaking score of fifty-eight pies in four minutes..."

Yessss....

"Please give it up for..."

Come on, say it!

"...Pinkie Pie!"

The Hel?

Amidst the applause, Pinkie whooped and double hoof-pumped the air, doing a funny little shimmy followed by a move where she stood on one hind leg and, taking the bent one in her left hoof, moved it back and forth as her right hoof rested on her head. I was flabbergasted, to say the least, frozen like a rabbit spotted by a fox. I lost? How did I lose to her? This had to be a dream!

"Congratulations, Pinkie! And as a reward, here is a cash prize of three-hundred-and-fifty bits!"

Pinkie shook hooves with the mayor whilst being given a sack and a trophy depicting a pony standing on its hindlegs whilst triumphantly holding up a fork and pie. The pair grinned and posed as a torrent of camera light-bulbs flashed though I hardly noticed, my brain still recovering from the shock of my unexpected loss. I was the personification of hunger, yet I'd been soundly defeated by a mere mortal. My inherent pride as both a jotann and a male had been both shattered like Odin's chances of ever winning a staring contest. I mean, before I ate him, obviously.

"And coming in a close second is Fen the Wolf, who actually managed to eat fifty-five pies in four minutes! Give it up for him, folks!"

The sudden uproarious applause awakened me from my sulky thoughts. Mayor Mare then shook my paw and presented me with a smaller, identical trophy except this one was faux silver instead of faux gold. Trust me, when you've got a nose like mine, you can tell the difference. Photographers also took my picture, though I figured it was more for the novelty of a giant wolf participating in the contest rather than my accomplishment. I didn't mind though; attention was attention.

"For coming in second place, please accept this trophy and prize of two-hundred bits."

I dipped my head and accepted my rewards, taking the trophy and pouch from Mayor Mare, then chose to quietly vacate the premises. Ponies clambered towards Pinkie, photographers and admirers almost moving in droves like some sort of hive-minded entity. I watched with mild amusement as Pinkie was hoisted up atop the shoulders of two stallions, waving at her adoring fans and thanking them for their support when she took notice of me. She wildly swung her foreleg in my direction.

"Hiya Fen! Hiiii!"

Yes, I was massively disappointed but that didn't mean I harbored any kind of resentment towards Pinkie. She'd proven herself the superior pie-devourer fair and square, and I was a tad humbled to have lost to one such as her. Smirking slightly, I returned the gesture with a paw, albeit in a more dignified and subdued manner. Putting some distance between the crowd and myself, I took a moment to inspect the second-place trophy, my likeness reflected off of the shiny surface. This was the first award I'd ever earned and for something that I was not only good at but also enjoyed, so as strange as it was, I treasured the piece of plastic far much more than the prize money.

The CMCs soon arrived, each filly looking concerned.

"Hey Fen, are you okay?" Scootaloo asked.

I carefully patted her head. "I am Scootaloo. Thank you."

Applebloom tilted her head. "Yore okay tha' ya lost?"

"It's only a contest," I shrugged, or at least, the closest to a shrug that a canine could give. "I did my best and lost to a worthy opponent. No big deal."

"Well...as long as you're sure," Sweetie Belle said somewhat uncertainly. "So what are you going to spend your winnings on?"

I considered the small bound sack and then held it out for Applebloom.

"Here. You take it."

The little farm-filly's eyes widened adorably wide.

"Are ya shore? Ah mean, ya worked so hayud tuh earn it."

I nodded, "I'm sure. After all, you're the one that signed me up for the competition in the first place. It just seems right. Besides, what could I possibly spend it on?"

It took some back-and-forth but Applebloom eventually agreed, even being considerate enough to split it with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. The three excitedly ran off to show the adults, leaving me chuckling and shaking my head. What was I seriously going to do with money? Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could've bought a ton of bacon. Sweet, sweet bacon...

Dammit! What was I thinking?!

"That was a really nice thing you did."

I turned towards the pegasus beaming up at me from behind a nearby stall.

"Oh, hi Mother. Yeah, I guess it was, wasn't it?"

Fluttershy patted my foreleg and rubbed her head against it.

"I'm so proud of you, Fen."

"Thanks...Mother," I murmured and licked her cheek.

Yes, bacon was savory-sweet but the love of my pony-mother was even sweeter.

Well...almost.