"What?" Flim looked back and forth between the scroll and Applejack. "You mean you've never heard that phrase before?"
Applejack scrunched her muzzle and tilted her head, rubbing a hoof on the back of her neck. "Well, it sounds mighty familiar, but I can't remember exactly why. What, is it a metaphor or somethin'?"
"A- a metaphor or something?" Flim stared at her incredulously. "You're joking, right? You're not serious. Don't tell me you're serious." He shrank back a little as Applejack renewed her former irritable glare. "You're serious... I don't suppose you read any books in your free time, then?" Or walk outside that rock you live under, Flim wanted to add, but he felt that probably wouldn't help the situation any.
Now Applejack just looked exasperated. "No, I don't. I buck apples, I bake apples, I preserve apples, I sell apples, and sometimes I go to lunch or a party with my friends. That's about it. What's that got to do with anything?"
Flim shook his head. "You, my dear, need to get out more." Applejack let out an irked snort, but the conpony continued on before she could say anything. "That phrase is one of the most famous catch-phrases in all of literature. The great detective Fetlock Holmes says it all the time in his books. Well, that, along with 'the game's ahoof!' But, it's used for different instances. That one's used when Fetlock starts a new case, and 'elementary, my dear Trotson!' is used when he is explaining the answer to a mystery." Flim gave Applejack a self-important smirk as he spoke. It was no question who was the more cultured of the two. He knew the farmpony was a bit backwoodsy, but to not even know about Fetlock Holmes? That was just sad.
Applejack just continued to glare at him. "Alright, what you just said right now? None of that mattered. I repeat: what the hay does that have to do with anything we're after? How does knowing some Fanny Homes catch-phrase get us closer to your brother?" She couldn't help but feel a bit gratified as Flim's expression sank into the dust. He needed to get his big head in the game if he really wanted that greedy brother of his back. No amount of high-falutin fancies were going to put him in a better position right now, and he needed to know that.
Flim grimaced and looked back at the scroll, wracking his head for an answer. "Well... it might help..." Applejack raised an eyebrow. Feeling defensive, Flim added, "Shouldn't we know all we can about the subject we're after? The phooka did say he wanted me to gather items, didn't he? What if he wants me to get one of the Fetlock Holmes books?"
The orange mare tossed her head in frustration. "Why in tarnation would a phooka want a darn mystery book?"
"Well, I don't know!" Flim snapped, then caught himself and let out a deep breath. "I don't know what phookas like. What if he just happens to like mystery books? Can't a phooka like mystery books?"
"Enough to kidnap a pony for one?" There went Applejack's eyebrow again. "Partner, phookas don't just happen to do anything. Everything they do is carefully calculated for a reason. Everything. That silly catch-phrase isn't on there just because he wants a book; there's got to be more to it than that. There always is."
"So what do you propose we do about it?" Flim asked sourly.
"I ain't proposing nothing, Flim," Applejack insisted, feeling surprisingly patient. She even ignored it when Flim started correcting her grammar under his breath. "All I'm saying is that we should stop and think a minute before rushing off and doing something stupid. You're usually pretty calculated about what you say, yourself, so you should be good at this."
Flim blinked in surprise at the unexpected compliment. She hadn't necessarily said he was clever, but it was very close to it. What was also surprising was that he agreed with her. He was normally very thoughtful about what came out of his mouth; he had been running on emotions since the night before, and it seemed that most of his complicated thinking had gone to the wind. If he wanted to find Flam, he needed to be smart about it. He needed to think clearly.
So he sat down and thought. He gently laid the scroll on the ground with his magic, smoothed it out with a hoof, and tried to find anything unusual or eye-opening about the phrase. The words stared back at him.
"Element'ry, my dear Trotson!"
Applejack tapped a hoof and waited. She was proud of how patiently she'd spoken to him, but it had taken some effort and spent her patience early, so now it was running out faster. She couldn't exactly stop him from thinking now that he'd gotten going, though. "How about you think out loud?" she asked finally. "Two heads are better than one at solving problems."
Flim huffed and resisted rolling his eyes. As if a mare who knew nothing about Fetlock Holmes could contribute anything. Still, he supposed it was worth a try. Better to see if there was a chance of her adding something than keeping to himself. It might not help, but it certainly couldn't hurt. "Oh, alright," he sighed. "Well, when Fetlock says this phrase, it's always when his assistant, John Trotson, is asking him how he knew something about their case. It could be something important, like who the thief was, or more insignificant, like that the pony who hired them nervously bites their forehooves a lot. Fetlock always thinks that it was obvious, though, hence why he calls it elementary."
Applejack nodded, her face again scrunching up in thought. "So you're saying the phooka might be telling us to look for something he thinks is obvious, but ain't really?"
Flim nodded back. "Right. Well, maybe. That's what the phrase means, anyways." The mare beside him frowned. It was so unlike him to be unsure of himself. She should be glad that he wasn't being as arrogant as normal, but it was rather annoying, because it felt to her like his indecisiveness was going to slow them down.
"So, what are we looking for, then?" Applejack asked, kneeling down over the scroll to get a closer look.
Flim just scowled at the scroll. His eyes were squinted almost shut, traveling over each letter systematically. What were they looking for? It was just a catch-phrase! A very famous catch-phrase, yes, and it was frankly disturbing that Applejack hadn't heard of it, but still just a catch-phrase. If this phooka was really so clever and calculating, he could be telling them to look for anything! It might not even be on the scroll! There was nothing on the scroll except for the same words he'd been staring at for what seemed like years. What if he was telling them to look at their situation? Or look at themselves? Or to go back and look at the scene of the crime?
Oh, sweet Celestia, he'd left the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 on the road last night! He'd just run off and left it! What if somepony got a hold of it? It wasn't that difficult to operate, all a pony had to do was flip a switch, pull a lever, and press a big red button. It could be halfway across Equestria by now! Flim was such an idiot! How could he be such an idiot? How was he going to rescue his brother if he was being such an idiot?!
Applejack raised both eyebrows as she watched Flim gesticulate. First he waved one hoof in the air, then he slammed that hoof onto his forehead, then he was holding both hooves to his face and shaking his head in despair. What had him so confused? It was just a catch-phrase. He was probably overthinking it.
The mare turned back to the scroll and proceeded to ignore the emotional stallion's shenanigans. There was something in the words on the page, she just knew it. She could feel it in her core. Nothing is more reliable than an Apple Core.
"Element'ry, my dear Trotson!"
"Hmmm..." Applejack mumbled as she looked at the words. She lifted a hoof towards the page. "Hey, is elementary supposed to have a 'postrophe in it?"
Flim jumped and snapped his head up, spreading his hooves away from his face. "What?"
"I said," the mare jerked her hoof at the page again, "is elementary supposed to have a 'postrophe in it?"
Flim blew air between his teeth and scooted next to Applejack, peering at the scroll beside her. "What are you going on about?"
Applejack rolled her eyes. This was taking way more of her patience than she'd bargained for. "That word! Elementary! It's got a 'postrophe between the t and the r. Is it supposed to have that?"
"Don't be ridiculous, that's not-" Flim leaned closer to the scroll. "Oh. So there is. But, that's just an accent. That can't be important, can it?"
The mare shrugged. "I dunno. Can it? You're the one who knows so much about this phrase. You tell me." She sat and watched him mull over it. Applejack knew she was being short with him, but A) she didn't like him much, for good reason, and B) he needed to get his head in the game. He was so unfocused, it was pitiful.
Flim closed his eyes and tapped a hoof against his head as he thought. An apostrophe in the word wasn't important. It couldn't be. Lots of older books had little accents like apostrophes and hyphens, it just made the books more interesting. It couldn't mean anything. He'd seen Fetlock use it loads of times, he was sure. He was certain. Or, he thought he was certain. Flim hadn't read Fetlock in ages. There hadn't really been time, what with all the schemes and bit-making and song writing and whatnot.
"Funny," the stallion remarked. "I used to have a Fetlock Holmes collection when I was a colt... I read those books all the time before I went on the road with Flam around ten years ago, but I haven't read them since then. I can't really recall the exact typing in the books at the moment."
"Darn phookas," Applejack snarled. "They're too dang smart for their or anypony else's good."
Flim shot her a glare and opened his mouth to give a scathing remark, but slowly closed it. What could he say when he agreed with her? It felt like the beast had him all figured out, from where he would go for help to the books he'd read as a foal. Flim just didn't like Applejack pointing it out; it felt like that made it more true. Unfortunately, until he figured out a way around the phooka's instructions, he was stuck playing its game. If it knew that he'd read the books religiously when he was younger, but that enough time had passed that Flim didn't clearly remember the way certain words were typed, then what did it want Flim to do with this knowledge?
He stood up straight. With an air of finality, he magically rolled up the scroll and placed it back in his vest. "I need to go to the library." With that, he began to walk down the road from Sweet Apple Acres.
Applejack stared after him for a moment, then growled to herself and trotted after him. "Flim! Flim! Would you hold up a minute, darnit?"
Flim gave a restless snort and stopped. "And what is the problem now?"
His make-do companion caught up to him and tossed her head in exasperation. "You can't just go running off like that, you don't know-"
The conpony stomped his hoof in annoyance. "Applejack, are you seriously saying that I don't know how to walk to a library by myself? I might be quite a bit mentally drained from last night's events, but I think I know how to make my way into town without getting myself into harms way!"
"Consarnit, would you listen for a minute?" Applejack snapped. She was getting the feeling that not only would this rescue take much longer than she'd hoped, it would also mean arguing every step of the way to keep this infuriating, stubborn stallion from doing stupid things. "I know the last time you came here, you could just walk up to the library and check out whatever, but we have a problem now!"
"Oh?" Flim asked flatly. "And what would that be?" He expected it to be something ridiculously simple that the farmpony thought too difficult for him to handle, like the fact that he didn't have a library card, or the possibility that the librarian didn't like muddy hoofprints and Flim would have to take a shower first.
Applejack gritted her teeth at the salespony's attitude. "You know Twilight Sparkle?"
"Yes, the latest princess. She was one of your friends assisting in the cider competition, correct?" Allowing her and the other mares to help was the worst mistake he made.
"Well, she's our librarian."
"So I'll have to gain her trust, then, is that it? Can't you just attest to my need for the books?"
"Yeah, there's that, but that's not what I'm talking about."
"Then what, Applejack? Please get to the point!"
"The library's gone, Flim. There is no more library. We got a gigantic castle in its place last week."
In a dark, depressing, but surprisingly un-dank cave, a pony woke with a groan.
He slowly raised his head and looked at his surroundings. The stallion was in a rough-hewn circular cavern, interspersed with strange stalagmites, stalactites, and columns that looked almost like trees growing out of the rock. There was a small pool of water nearby, shimmering with a thousand lights within, like embedded stars. A real, living tree grew next to the pool in a patch of moist soil. The trunk was twisted like a bonsai, and the leaves curved into a perfect sphere. Round, glowing purple and indigo fruits dangled from the branches.
It was beautiful. It was also horrible.
It was horrible because Flam just remembered that he had been kidnapped.
All thoughts of beauty flew from the stallion's mind as he searched wildly around for the awful beast that had seized him. That conniving black horse that wasn't really a horse. What had he called himself? Flam wasn't listening at the time. He was too busy concentrating on not dying.
As if able to read his mind, a dark figure stepped from the shadows and into the dim light that both pool and tree gave off. Dozens of tiny white fangs gleamed in the glow when it smiled.
"Good morning, Flam Skim," it said smoothly. "Welcome to my home, and your new home for as long as it takes for your brother to find you. In case I didn't make it clear enough last night, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am the Mordant Phooka.