The house they would be staying in for dinner was pleasant enough, a sturdy thing built a few months ago, and painted the same white as the other houses. Some enterprising soul, however, had painted it in deep greens and cheerful reds in places, giving the house the appearance of a patchwork quilt that was not quite finished. The walkway had been newly shoveled, and the windows blazed with cheerful light. Even standing outside, Twilight and Tarantella could hear the murmur of conversation, punctuated at intervals with the laughter of foals or the occasional raised voice. Spike had elected not to come along, saying that he was going to be coming up with a solution for the lack of warm clothing. So it was that Twilight and Tarantella stood in front of the house, waiting on entry after a firm knock from the Pegasus.
The door creaked open to reveal Pepper Pot, looking up at them with wide eyes.
“Hi, Lady Twilight! Come on in, dinner is about to start!” she said, throwing the door open wide. She took off towards the kitchen, leaving the two to wipe their hooves outside before entering, shutting the door behind them. “Lady Twilight and her friend are here!” the filly called as she ran, and the unicorn mare from earlier, whose name was Nutmeg, stepped into the hallway to greet them.
“We’re very glad you could make it. We’ve just finished preparing the meal, please, come and join us.” She said, showing them into the dining room, which abutted the kitchen. Twilight could smell something cooking, and picked out the smell of boiling vegetables, loaves of bread, and some other, sweeter scent. They entered the dining room, and were immediately confronted with a packed table full of ponies, making Twilight very glad that she had not brought Spike along for this.
They were greeted warmly, as family almost, and were swiftly brought into the fold, as ponies talked and laughed and cajoled one another over one piece of news or another. Nutmeg’s husband was the Pegasus from earlier in the day, who was nursing a sore hoof. His name, ironically enough, was Snowkicker. This was, of course, the source of many jokes among the family and friends gathered at the table. Nutmeg and a few of the others had disappeared, presumably into the next room to gather the meal.
A short while later, the food was brought out. It was very simple, a pot of stewed potatoes and carrots, with a short crust of bread for everypony. A bit of salt was available to season, and tea and water were the drinks of choice. Though the rations were not exactly plentiful, it was the most food Twilight had eaten in a week. The emptiness that was left behind in their bellies was filled by the presence of each other, as they swapped stories and laughed at the antics of the foals. It was after the meal had ended, and the foals were let loose to play once more, that the conversation at the table turned back to Twilight’s concerns.
“You see, Lady Twilight?” Nutmeg said, as they took a brief rest after the meal. “We can make do with little food. We can ignore wet clothing, or missing clothing, so long as we can come home and see one another during the day. Ask any family around here, they will tell you the same thing. Most ponies here are from the north of Equestria. We are used to the harsh cold, the frugal winters. They do not bother us as much as you might think.”
“Everypony seemed so unhappy, though.” Twilight said, glancing around the table at the assembled families.
Snowkicker’s nose rumpled in surprise. “Unhappy? When was that?”
“When I announced that we’d all be on half rations!” Twilight said. “Everypony started arguing and fighting.”
Another pony, an Earth mare named Buttercup, smiled. “Aye, we can be a bit contentious, especially faced with unexpected bad news. But to be honest, it didn’t last long. Nopony enjoys fighting, especially at this time of the year, when we should all be working together.”
Nutmeg nodded. “And when everypony heard what you had done because of our muleheadedness, they shaped up right quick. It’s nearly Hearth’s Warming Eve, and here we are acting fools because we may have to go without food for a few days. We felt like idiots, making you lock yourself away, and put yourself through all of that just for us. But from the looks of things, you have been starving yourself for more than a week.”
Twilight nodded. “It’s been closer to a month, actually. The shortages were being noticed then, and now it’s worse than ever. Plus I just didn’t have much of an appetite.”
Nutmeg tilted her head curiously. “Forgive me if I’m out of place, Lady Twilight, but what changed your mind?”
Tarantella and Twilight looked at one another. Their relationship was not a well-known one, though neither had made any real attempt to hide it. The glance was all that was needed though. Nutmeg’s eyes widened. “Oh. OH. I apologize, Lady Twilight, that was quite rude of me.”
The rest of the ponies in the room chuckled a bit, Twilight and Tarantella included. Tarantella spoke up next. “It’s quite alright. Most ponies aren’t aware of the fact. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
Nutmeg’s face set. “Of course not. The north isn’t some desert backwater, we take love where we can find it. I simply would have expected that to be bigger news.”
“Well, it’s not like we’ve been walking around in public holding hooves. Tara and I are simply private ponies.” Twilight said.
“Now I am curious.” Snowkicker said. “How did you two meet?”
Twilight and Tarantella looked at one another. Tarantella smiled cheekily. “Well, I rescued her from captivity in Canterlot, and there was a chase, and a dragon was involved…it’s sort of a long story. Extremely long, you could fill a book.” Tarantella said, before Twilight gave her a gentle cuff alongside her head.
“It’s a very long story, but the short of it is that I met her outside of Fillydelphia. We hit it off well, and she went to Canterlot with me. She was one of the Condottieri that escaped capture, and was there with the other members of her party when Luna restored my memories. She fled the city with me, and it was once we had arrived here that I realized how I felt about her.” She said. “The entire story, well…I’ll be writing a book about the whole thing. I’ve already started on some of the notes, but I don’t know how it will end yet. Mostly because the story hasn’t ended yet.”
The ponies around the table nodded understandingly. They knew that their problems most likely paled in comparison to Twilight’s. Nutmeg spoke next. “Well, I’m sure that you’ll get your happy ending. These things have a way of working out. We’ve been working on something for a while, gathering ingredients and such. How would you care for dessert? We just finished gathering the ingredients today; you’d be surprised at how much eggs go for around here. Lucky the chickens were feeling generous.”
Twilight suddenly realized what the sweet scent was. She opened her mouth to protest, but a growl from her stomach proved the lie to her words before she spoke them. Their hostess smiled briefly before trotting into the kitchen, while another mare called in the foals, who piled into the small room eagerly.
Nutmeg came out with two loaves of bread suspended in her telekinetic grip, laying them down on the table. They were a most unusual shape, two cylinders that expanded near the top, as if the bread had been cooked in flowerpots. They were an unusual golden brown, speckled with bright fragments of candied fruit, and both had steam rising from the top, being fresh from the oven. Tarantella’s eyes lit up.
“Is that…is that panettone?” she inquired, excitement in her voice.
Nutmeg smiled. “Indeed it is. A traditional holiday dessert up north, though I can’t claim to make the best. That honor belonged to my mother. Still, we try to have it at least once per year. It teaches us to be thankful for what we have, and to treat others, especially the less fortunate, with respect.”
Twilight was curious. “What do you mean? How is a dessert that special?”
Tarantella smiled. “There is a legend attached to the bread, Twilight. A very famous one among the ponies of the north. I would tell it, but that duty falls to our hostess. Would she be willing to tell it while we wait for the bread to cool?”
Nutmeg stood up a bit straighter, unconsciously assuming the position of one giving a recital to an audience. And in a way, she was. “Well, I’ve not told the story in a while.”
There were cheers and calls from the surrounding ponies, including the foals. She shook herself, smiling widely. “Alright then, I will do my best.” There was an expectant hush, as she cleared her throat, and began.
“Many years ago, before our grandsires and their grandsires were even born, there was a small village, whose name has been lost to history. It was a small village, near the wild mountains, and they lived under the rule of a powerful and wealthy family of Condottieri. This family had a son, an Earth pony who loved falconry, and could often be found outside of the city, engaging in his favorite pastime. As he waited on his loyal birds to return, however, he would spend time watching the most beautiful mare he had ever seen.
She was the daughter of a poor baker, one who made very good bread, good but plain. She worked hard all day and well into the night, helping her father with his craft. The Earth pony could not bear to see the mare he so adored working so hard for so little, not to mention his father would never allow him to marry one so unprosperous, and so he came up with a bold scheme.
He disguised himself as a common pony, and apprenticed himself under the baker. How hard he worked! His hooves grew weary, he had hardly any time to himself, and he slept and ate little. But it was worth it, for he was able to spend time with his beloved, and soon enough she fell in love with him, as well. Soon, though, the seasons turned from summer to winter, as they always do, and the young Earth pony found out that his beloved’s father would not be able to support them through the winter.
He knew what he had to do. He sold his beloved falcons, buying all manner of fine goods with them, eggs and good flour, butter, raisins and orange peel and fruits. The night before Hearth’s Warming Eve, he worked furiously, forgoing sleep entirely. He created a wonderful bread, one that was delicious and light, a truly luxurious bread. He made so much of it, in fact, that he ran out of pans to cook it in, so he took the last of his dough, and baked in in flowerpots so as to avoid wasting it.
When the father and daughter awoke the next morning, the Earth pony was gone, but left a note explaining that he had created the bread while they slept, and if they sold this, they would surely have enough to make it through the winter. He even suggested they take some of it to the Condottiero himself. They thought this a fine idea, and loaded up a cart with bread, taking it through the streets. The smell of the bread attracted a crowd, and soon they had replaced most of their bread with gold before finally arriving before the Condottiero himself.
Imagine their surprise when they arrived to find the baker’s apprentice standing at the right hoof of the Condottiero himself! He explained all of what he had done, and the Condottiero agreed to give his blessing to the arrangement, so long as he had a taste of the bread. Shamefacedly, they withdrew the very last loaf of bread, the one that had been baked into a flowerpot. The Condottiero laughed to see such unusual bread, and upon tasting a piece, immediately agreed to the marriage. His only request was that the bread be baked in flowerpots from then on, as he loved the shape.
Of course, the baker agreed, and the noble and the baker’s daughter were wed soon after. Their love lasted for many years, and though we may not know their names, their legacy is left behind in this bread, which was called pan de tone, or bread of luxury. And we eat it every Hearth's Warming to remind us that we are lucky to have what we have, and that the less fortunate always deserve our help.”
There was applause from the assembled ponies, Twilight included. Nutmeg bowed slightly, and then, with a flourish, cut open the loaves, passing around pieces for the family to enjoy. The ponies in that house spent the evening talking and laughing with one another, and Twilight realized that the ones who followed her didn’t need much, just enough to get by. And so long as they had hope, they would be fine.
Twilight resolved to give them that hope, one way or another. She would make sure to give something to the ponies they led for Hearth’s Warming Eve. She’d make sure of it