Pass the Rock Salt – An Interlude Over Lunch
Trixie threw herself down on the rough wooden bench and sighed, massaging her hooves. She’d been on them all day, helping Humble prepare an inordinately large amount of soup. Now they were positively killing her, especially her left-front hoof, which she had accidentally cut when she had lost her grip on a carrot.
I hope I never see another carrot again in my life, she thought, rubbing her swollen eyes. Humble had assigned her a large pile of onions after the carrots, and she hadn’t quite recovered from them yet, either. Her eyes were still stinging when Humble sat down across from her, dropping a wicker picnic basket between them.
“Ah, it does a body good to sit a spell, don’t you think, miss?” he said, rolling his neck from side to side. Trixie shuddered as it made several slightly wet-sounding cracks. “Of course, you shouldn’t get too much rest. ‘Toil and soil, or the body will spoil’, that’s what my pa used to say.” Trixie rolled her eyes and tried to envision herself center stage in Canterlot’s Royal Theatre. Each time the curtains opened, however, the audience was nothing but rows and rows of rocks.
Humble rose and began rummaging around in the wicker basket, placing various items on the table while mumbling to himself. Trixie was brought out of her daydream as he thrust a corked, dark-brown bottle into her hooves.
“There you are,” he said, already digging back into the basket. Trixie turned the bottle around in her hooves, studying the worn glass.
“And just what is this?” she asked, bringing the bottle to her eye. She could just see the barest hint of movement as she swirled the bottle around. Trixie lifted it high, allowing the sun to filter through the bottle as she squinted at it.
“Mineral water,” Humble muttered as he continued to pull things out of his basket. “The rocks love it. Ah! I knew it was in there someplace.” The farmer dug out a second bottle and a small, green box. Biting the cork, he pulled it from the bottle’s neck, and Trixie grimaced as he spat it absently back into the basket.
“Ugh,” Trixie said, curling her lip. “Trixie only drinks Aquine mineral water, but she supposes that would be too much to ask for.” Trixie set the bottle down and pushed it away. Humble slowly sighed heavily and shook his head. As if I’m the one who’s difficult! Trixie thought, turning dismissively from the bottle. Humble picked it up, biting down on the cork.
“And where do you think Aquine gets their water from, hmm?” he said from around the cork.
“Oh, please!” Trixie spat, crossing her legs tightly across her chest. “Now you bottle gourmet water, too?” Her nose wrinkled as he spat her cork into the basket. “Do you have to be so crude? Trixie expects a certain level of decorum.”
“Is that so?” Humble said as he opened the green box. Retrieving a small rock from inside it, he tossed the box back into the basket. “I reckon the list of things that Trixie expects is pretty long indeed. Certainly longer than the list of things she gives in return.” He positioned the rock over the lip of his bottle and began grinding it between his hooves.
“Why you!” Trixie shot back. “What would you know of Trixie’s—”
Humble stopped working his stone, and glanced up at her with his piercing gaze. Trixie’s mouth snapped closed, and she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Finally, she let her eyes drop down to her lap.
What is wrong with me?! she thought, clenching her teeth. He gives me that look and I just fall apart!
“Miss,” he began with a heavy sigh. “We’ve a long stretch of time still before your contract is up. I think it’s high time we straightened a few things out.” He pushed her bottle of mineral water back across the table. “Twist of limestone?” he asked, holding out the rock.
“Ah, well—” Trixie sputtered, trying to find her footing in the conversation once more.
“Ayuh, I thought so,” Humble replied, grinding the stone over her drink. “As I was sayin’, we’re goin’ to need to come to an understandin’. First, I’d take it as a kindness if you’d drop the ‘Trixie this’ and ‘Trixie that’ nonsense when we aren’t workin’ with the rocks.”
That does it! Trixie curled her mouth into a snarl and leapt up, slamming her hooves onto the table. “Do not presume to tell Trixie how to behave!” she growled. “Trixie may be obliged to work for you, but she owes you nothing beyond that. You do not dictate to the Great and Powerful Trixie! She has been places you have never been and seen places you will never see! The Great and Powerful Trixie has known the elite of Equestria!” Trixie thrust her face into his, bending down the brim of his hat. “She will not suffer the condescension of some backwoods yokel that nopony has ever heard of!”
Humble held her gaze, and worked the pipe forward in his mouth. As she quickly glanced down at the clacking sound that the pipe made against his teeth, he blew a blast of air through it. Trixie reeled back, covering her eye with a hoof. It hadn’t exactly hurt, but the air had dried out her eye unpleasantly. As her legs hit the bench, she sat down hard. Humble returned to unloading the wicker basket.
“Lucky for you, I stopped smokin’ twenty years ago. The habit’s hard to break, though,” he said, tapping his pipe fondly. “So, you’ve been everywhere and seen everthin’, eh?” he asked, setting a few cloth-wrapped bundles on the table. “Might be some truth in that. You should think back on what you told the young rocks yesterday, though.” He stopped to stare at her for a moment. “What was it again? While everypony was out makin’ friends and havin’ fun, you were workin’, is that it?” Trixie nodded, unsure as to where this was going.
Unwrapping several of the bundles, Humble began pulling out sandwiches and condiments and placed them on two large, stone plates. Sliding one over to her, he sat down and picked up his sandwich. Trixie took a cautious sniff, and reached down to rub her stomach as it growled loudly. She had to admit that she was very hungry, and this smelled delicious. Humble opened a bottle of mustard, spreading some onto his bread.
“Mustard?” he asked, tipping the jar toward her. “It’s stone ground.” Hesitating only slightly, Trixie took it. Her mouth watered as she spread it on her bun.
“Now, as I was saying, you threw yourself into your studies, and you made somethin’ out of yourself, didn’t you?” Trixie nodded. “Ayuh, you did. A right jackass, I’d say.” Trixie’s sandwich dropped back to her plate as her eyes flew wide.
“Now, you listen to—” she said, keeping her distance this time.
“No, I don’t reckon I will,” he replied, opening a stoneware crock. “Seems to me that you’ve done a lot of talkin’ in life, and not near enough listenin’.” Digging into the crock with a spoon, he dropped a heaping pile of potato salad onto both of their plates. “So you made a name for yourself, but you made no friends. That’s a shame, ‘cause it seems you sorely need some right now.”
Resting her cheek on her hoof, Trixie sullenly began to eat the potato salad. Keep it together, Trixie, she thought, chewing slowly and looking off into the distance. Just let him prattle on and we’ll be on our way soon enough. Just make it through today and tomorrow and we can be done with this horrible stallion. The clink of the metal spoon on stone brought her attention back to her plate. Somehow, she had devoured most of her potato salad. Celestia’s grace, it’s... delicious!
“And it’s no wonder,” he continued thickly from around a mouthful of sandwich. “You were so busy convincin’ yourself that you’ve some merit that you took to seein’ those that made the time to make some friends as lesser folk.” He swallowed and locked eyes with Trixie again. “So tell me, what is it that you’re good at, exactly?”
Trixie sputtered, trying to dislodge the last bit of salad from her throat. The question had caught her off-guard, and she had reflexively taken a deep breath to shout at him.
“Magic, of course!” she croaked out, pounding her chest. “Trixie is unparalleled in the eldritch arts!”
“Is that so?” Humble said, taking a sip of mineral water. “Why is it then that you haven’t done any since you arrived?”
“Well, you asked Trixie not to!” Trixie cried, throwing her hooves into the air. Humble shook his head.
“No,” he answered. “I asked you not to scare the rocks with all those flashin’ lights and whizbangs. I never said anythin’ about magic.” Trixie’s mouth sagged open. Humble placed his sandwich carefully back down on his plate. Placing his hooves neatly together in front of him, he leaned a little closer to her. “You know what I think?” he said quietly, holding her eyes with his own. “I reckon you just don’t have much talent in that department.” Releasing her, he picked up his sandwich again and began his slow, rhythmic chewing once more.
For a few seconds, Trixie was paralyzed. Too many emotions were cycling through her all at once. Hate would well up, only to be replaced by disbelief, and before she could express that, indignation would take its place.
“How dare you!” she cried, baring her teeth. “How dare you! You don’t know a single thing about Trixie! Look at this!” Trixie hopped up from the bench and turned her rump toward the farmer. She wanted to smash his face as he sat there placidly chewing his sandwich, but instead she stabbed her hoof toward her cutie mark. “You see this?” she growled. “What does it look like to you?”
“Looks like a wand and some sparkly mist,” Humble returned, giving her mark a cursory glance before returning to his lunch.
“That’s right, fool!” Trixie yelled, rearing up onto her hind legs and thrusting her front legs dramatically into the sky. “Trixie received this cutie mark during her first magic show! The audience was enraptured by her unparalleled command of the magical arts! She became an overnight sensation! A magical prodigy!” Returning her front hooves to the ground, she thrust her nose into the air, flipping her mane.
“And it never crossed your mind that you might have gotten that cutie mark for the performance itself, hmm?” Humble asked, resting his cheek against his hoof as he chewed.
Trixie felt the world begin to recede from her with a horrible sliding sensation, as though she was being pulled forcibly through a dark tunnel. Sweating, her unfocused eyes darted back and forth as she cast her mind back to that moment.
She remembered the thrill of the applause as it broke over her in waves. She had sacrificed everything for that moment. She had spent countless hours in practice, honing her performance. She repeated every word, every gesture, every trick again and again until she could do them in her sleep. At first, she had been a little disappointed that her instructors had advised her away from a show of pure magic, but when they had demonstrated the power that a little stagecraft could bring to the performance, she had fallen in love. Some smoke here, a well-placed mirror there; that was all it took for her instructors to shower her with compliments.
All of that hard work and sacrifice had paid off that night as the crowd stomped their hooves and whistled for an encore. There she stood, quivering with excitement, her heart filled nearly to bursting with pride. She had actually needed to press her hoof to her chest to try and calm its beating. It was a feeling she wouldn’t trade for the world. Then the audience had gasped and she turned to see what had drawn their attention. Following their hooves to her flank, there it was: A wand controlling a misty enchantment. It was so beautiful that she had broken down into tears, and the audience rushed forward. Suddenly she had been surrounded by comforting words and congratulatory shouts. The crowd cried out that she was the most magical pony they had ever seen!
“No!” Trixie managed, her lower lip quivering. “No! I am the most magical! It’s my special talent!”
“Miss, your special talent isn’t somethin’ you just turn on and off,” Humble said, regarding her with those cool, judging eyes. “It’s who you are deep down inside,” he continued as she tried to turn away. “If a magician is who you really are, then askin’ you not to use it would have been like askin’ you to stop breathin’.”
“Stop! Just stop, Humble!” Trixie said, hiding behind her hair. Biting her lip, she struggled to keep control, but her eyes began to fill against her will. “You don’t know—”
“You’re right there, miss,” he replied, wiping the last crumbs from his sandwich off of his chest. “I don’t know. But I suspect, and more than that, I suspect you suspect that I’m right.” Pulling a toothpick from the basket, he began to work it around his teeth, leaning back slightly to check the sun’s position. “Soon as your wagon rolled to a stop on my farm that first day, you launched straight into a performance. Then, you made sure to get up near my exercise wheel, front and center on stage. The spotlight, so to speak.” Trixie shook her head, but Humble continued relentlessly. “Yesterday, you were so happy to see that stage that you took off like a shot.” Crossing one leg over the other, he pulled out his pipe, motioning with it. “But did you teach the young rocks with a lesson etched in magic? No. No you didn’t. Instead, you gave a mighty fine speech and walked that stage like a mare possessed. Like you were born to do it.”
“It can’t be!” Trixie cried. Humble shifted, looking away uncomfortably as tears began falling from the unicorn’s eyes. “It just can’t be!” she whispered. Her cheeks burned as she felt her legs trembling. “I’ve worked so hard…”
Suddenly, Humble was there, holding her gently. Trixie wanted to scream and slap him, but instead she collapsed, burying her face into his chest and sobbing. She tried to summon up her white-hot hate for him as he patted her consolingly on the back, but it just wouldn’t come. “Now, now, miss,” he said, rocking her. “You’re carryin’ on like this is the end. Look up at me.” Half-unwilling, Trixie forced her eyes up, inch by inch, to meet his, and gasped.
He actually looks concerned! she thought, wiping a tear away roughly. The old fool! He doesn’t care about me... does he? She jumped slightly as he took her face in his hooves, holding it gently but firmly.
“This isn’t the end,” he said in a soft voice. “This is your beginning. Everypony walks this earth with a mission. I’ve been put here to commune with the earth and bring forth its fruits. That’s why I sleep easy.” He stared directly into Trixie’s eyes, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. “Do you?” Brushing his hooves from her burning cheeks, she dropped her eyes to her lap.
Trixie squirmed as she thought back to the nights she had before arriving on the farm. Nights filled with tossing and turning. Nights filled with thoughts of revenge. Nights where she was never truly sure if she was awake or asleep. “No,” she answered after a lengthy pause.
“Well, now you know why!” he said, giving her a little shake. “You can get back to doin’ what you love and bein’ happy!”
“You think it’s that easy?!” she cried, jerking herself out of his grasp. “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?! Haven’t you heard? Nopony wants to see The Great and Powerful Trixie!” She whirled around, wide-eyed, and Humble stepped a few prudent feet away from the unicorn.
“Trixie’s life as a performer is over, and now you sit there, trying to convince her that she isn’t even talented…” her voice hitched as she fought to control her emotions, “in the one thing she loves.”
“Don’t see that as much of an obstacle, really,” Humble said, placing a hoof under his chin and chewing on his pipe stem. Trixie goggled at him, sputtering.
“You don’t—not a—what are you blathering about?!” she finally managed. “Trixie has no audience and, according to you, no talent for magic. What exactly is she supposed to do now?!”
Shaking his head, Humble leaned forward and placed his hooves on his knees. Trixie watched and waited. She felt a throb in her forehead as her blood pressure started to rise, and she welcomed it. Anger. This was familiar. It felt good to have some normalcy back. Finally, Humble raised his head again, sighing heavily.
“You’re nearin’ the stubbornest pony I’ve ever met,” he said, hopping off of the bench. With the slow, deliberate care he gave all his tasks, he began packing up the remnants of their lunch. “You’ve got no audience, eh? Well, build one!”
“Didn’t you hear Trixie?” she replied, cocking an eyebrow at him and throwing a hoof wide beside her. “Nopony wants to see her!”
“Well, go and see them instead!” he snapped, frowning at her. “Golly-gee, miss! A body would think you were born a star! How many ponies did you draw to your shows at the beginnin’?” Trixie attempted to answer, but Humble kept right on talking. “Six ponies? Ten?” Trixie nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “Then they got bigger as you got better, right?” She nodded again, this time a little more confidently. “After a bit, you pulled in that crowd, but somethin’s happened, and I’m not askin’ what, but it did. Now you’re left with a mighty big problem and a mighty small obstacle.
Running a hoof across his head, Humble wiped away a light sheen of sweat. Glancing back up at the sun, he grimaced, and placed the basket on his back.
“Let’s walk, miss,” he said. “We’re behind schedule.” Trotting quickly back toward the barn where they had prepared the soup, Humble motioned for Trixie to fall in with him. For a moment, she thought about just bolting. The idea of leaving this all behind was like smooth satin on her raw soul, but something about what Humble was saying nagged at her. After a moment’s hesitation, she trotted after him.
“To earn a livin’ and be happy, you’re goin’ to need to rebuild. That much is plain,” Humble said as she matched his stride. “Lucky for you, that’s pretty easy.”
“Oh, is it?” Trixie sneered, curling her lip. Humble flicked his annoyed gaze at her, and Trixie dropped her eyes as a wave of confusion broke over her. Suddenly, she felt ashamed of her tone, and then irritated with herself for feeling ashamed. Whatever. Let’s hear his great advice.
“Yes, it is,” he continued after a moment. “It’s a two-step process. First, you’ll need to swallow that pride of yours. It’s not servin’ you well.”
The pair had reached the large wooden doors to the farm’s main barn. Humble shouldered off the locking bar with a grunt. As it fell to the ground, the door creaked open and the smell of boiling soup washed over them.
“Next, you’ll need to rebuild your reputation,” he said, looking down at her. “You’re goin’ to need to perform for an audience of six, then ten. Do some free shows and get people talkin’ about you again.”
“B-but, how is Trixie supposed to live?!” Trixie cried, stomping a hoof. “She can’t eat goodwill! Should she ask the crowd to continue to throw food at her just so she can cook something for dinner?!”
“You’ll live by workin’, of course,” he answered, pointing to the large pots of soup. “Rebuildin’ will be durin’ your off-hours.” He stifled her angry retort with a sharp look, and she turned away, fuming.
“Let me make this clear as new-born crystal,” he said as he made his way to a row of cabinets. Reaching inside, he scooped up several chipped stone bowls, stacking them in a nearby cart. “There’s no easy option here for you. It’s plain to see you’ve erred in a bad way, and the bigger the error, the heavier the price to be paid. Hard work will see you out of this, and only hard work.” He motioned to a drawer with his head as he passed by Trixie. “I’ll thank you kindly to grab the spoons out of here and put ‘em on that cart there.”
Trixie yanked the drawer open roughly, making the silverware jangle inside. Catching the tightening of his jaw out of the corner of her eye, she reached in gently and took out a large hoofful spoons and forks.
“Anyway,” he continued, “there’s no quick fix, here. There’s no spell. There’s no trick. There’s no wish-grantin’ lamps or magical amulets.” He set down an especially large stack of bowls with a grunt. “Just honest work. Get rid of that idea that life owes you somethin’ and start marchin’ up that steep path you were tellin’ the young rocks about.”
Humble walked over to a row of large steel pots that were boiling away along one wall. Lifting the lid of the closest of them, Humble ducked quickly away from the steam that came billowing out. Waving the lid, he dispersed the cloud and eyed the soup critically. Dipping a spoon in, he skimmed some of the broth from the top and blew on it gently. Cautiously, he sipped from the steaming spoon, then nodded, replacing the lid.
“Yes, miss, that will do,” he said, turning to her once again just as she was beginning to look elsewhere. He frowned as she whipped her head back around to him. “Effort!” he said, tapping the large pot with his spoon. “We put hours and hours of effort into these pots, and now it’s payin’ off. If you’ve a care to have your old life back, you can’t act like you’ve got soup yet. You’ve gotta chop all them vegetables first.”
Any more of this charming analogy and he might be getting his sandwich back, Trixie though, trying to force a smile onto her face. Still, as much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point. I can’t go on like this. Pulling herself up to her full height, Trixie ran a hoof through her mane and dusted herself off. “Trixie has never feared hard work!” she said, thrusting her chest out. Pushing a leg out in front of her, she pointed toward the ceiling. “She may be unfairly shunned now, but that means Equestria will love her all the more when she rises anew! Her star will once again ascend into the heavens!”
Humble raised an eyebrow, tracing the line from her outstretched hoof to the imaginary star and back again. “Well, that’s a start, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “Always nice to see enthusiasm, but first, we have two days ahead of us.” Humble turned and swept his leg in arc in front of him, highlighting his worn and half-loaded catering wagons clustered near the door. “Two long days, or maybe… ” Humble walked forward, extending his hoof to Trixie as he neared. “Maybe two short, pleasant days.”
Trixie dropped her eyes down to the outstretched hoof and then slowly back up to Humble’s earnest face. What is he up to now? she thought, squinting at the farmer.
“Oh, ayuh. It’s clear you don’t care for my company,” Humble said as she coolly regarded his hoof. “I’m not askin’ to be friends. You want to leave and I want to be done with my rock harvest. We both come out ahead if we work together.” Humble thrust his hoof slightly forward again. “I’m a mite tired of feelin’ like a jailor, so what do you say? If we can’t be friends, then can we agree to be partners?”
Trixie stared at the hoof. Partners?! she thought. As if we are on equal terms! Already turning to dismiss his ridiculous offer, Trixie caught a glimpse of herself in the hazy reflection of a nearby steel pot. Smudged with dirt, her face was a mess of dried tears, fly-away hair and a small dab of mustard in the corner of her mouth. Most disturbing were the bags under her eyes. They reminded her of the countless sleepless nights she had suffered through since the show in Ponyville.
Turning slowly to Humble, she let her eyes travel slowly across him, noting the mud on his hooves and his tangled tail. Trixie let her eyes fall to the floor as she swallowed hard. I-I suppose maybe we are equals. Clenching her jaw, she raised her eyes to meet his. He may be insane, but he’s right about one thing: It’s time I got back on my own four hooves again! Trixie reached out and took Humble’s outstretched hoof, giving it three firm pumps.
“The Great and Powerful-” Trixie stopped abruptly as Humble’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I agree, Humble. Let’s get this over with!”