//------------------------------// // Stranger // Story: Les Mareables // by TheOrdinaryBrony //------------------------------// It was late that evening. Above the clouds released their contents. Drenching the city in cold water. Most ponies closed their doors, so as not to be made wet. The streets were empty. No pony was out. Except for one. He wore a long, tattered cloak and a cap that covered his blonde mane and his red skin. He trotted half-heartedly around the city. He trotted with a strange gait. Dragging his left back hoof along with him as if it were made of lead. Eventually he came upon a small inn, whose door was wide open. When the red pony entered he saw a dark blue earth pony tending to his hearth. The Stranger knocked his hoof against the wall so as to get the blue pony’s attention, “Do you have any rooms to spare?” The Stranger asked. When the proprietor of the establishment turned from his work he looked at the red stallion. Strong, lean, but he had the look of some pony who had been beaten into submission for years, “If you can pay.” The owner said scornfully. With haste the Stranger scrambled through his tattered cloak and pulled out a tiny, beaten, leather coin purse, “Ah’ have more than enough. 105 bits all in this pouch.” The drifter announced in a southern drawl. The owner grinned at the prospect of a customer, “In that case welcome. 15 bits for a night with complimentary food.” The blue pony said, pointing to the burning hearth where a stew was bubbling. The red stallion heaved a sigh of relief and sat at the hearth, warming his wet hooves. But as the Stranger was warming himself the owner was scribbling a note and whistled. When the Stranger turned a young, pink filly came by, fetched the note and scurried outside. “How long until we eat?” The Stranger asked, licking his lips. “Soon. Don’t worry.” The owner grunted. A few minutes later the filly returned with another note and gave it to the owner, “You’ll have to leave sir.” The owner said, after reading the note. Quickly the Stranger bounced up to his hooves and turned to the owner, “Why? Ya’ll think I don’t have the money!?” The Stranger exclaimed, opening his purse where the bits lay. The owner frowned, “It’s not that. I…haven’t enough rooms.” He shrugged. “Ah’ll sleep in the hayloft!” The Stranger begged. “My cattle sleeps there.” The owner said. “Ah couldn’t care less! Please Ah’ll pay ya double!” The Stranger yelled, shaking his coin purse in front of the owner. The owner sighed, “I wish to treat all possible customers kindly. So please, clear out.” The holder said, pointing to the door.” The Stranger folded his muscular front arms and sat at the hearth in protest, “Ah’m tired. Ah’ve trotted 25 miles. I would appreciate a place to-” The owner stomped his hooves in anger, cutting off the Stranger, “You know why I won’t have you here?” The proprietor exclaimed, “You’re Big Macintosh, a thief, and a dangerous stallion, I refuse to have such filth in my establishment!” The owner exclaimed, reaching towards something. The Stranger did not move, “Ah ain’t moving.” Big Mac muttered defiantly. It wasn’t until the Vagrant felt something cold behind his head did he move, “Get out.” The owner muttered through gritted teeth, a crossbow in his hooves. Held at Big Mac’s head. The Stranger backed towards the door, the owner’s crossbow following him. When he was finally driven outside in the cold, rain once again did he speak, “Please sir. A…glass of water?” The defeated stallion muttered weakly. “An arrow is what you’ll get!” The owner growled, slamming the wooden door on Big Mac’s face. *** Everywhere he went Big Macintosh was turned away. No pony wanted a felon in their homes or establishments. Not even the soup kitchens gave him food. Eventually he gave up, and decided to retire on a stone bench. Big Mac stared sternly at the ground as he lay on his stomach, the rain pattering on his thin rags. He lay there for a while. Unable to sleep. Instead he decided to count the droplets of rain, one by one as they plummeted to the ground, “May I sit?” An old, hoarse voice called behind him. When Big Mac turned he saw an old white stallion wearing a thick coat and a top hat. Big Mac scooched away giving the pony room, “Thank you.” The white stallion muttered. “Why is a pony like yourself outside?” Big Mac questioned. The old pony pointed to a large mansion, “I live there. I was eating dinner when my servant noticed you through the window.” The white pony explained. Big Mac snorted and turned on his side, “I could offer you a room. It’s much too cold out here for you. There’s still food if you want some.” The pony explained, getting onto his old, crooked hooves and hobbling his way to his home. Big Mac didn’t move, “Don’t worry. If you have a change of heart the Mayor’s doors are never locked.” The Mayor informed Big Mac. *** The Mayor and his Servant were now dining on a meal of bread and cheese. The Servant had prepared the meal with his own crooked hooves. The two were now very old. The Mayor had just recently turned 87 while his Servant turned 77. The two ate their meals, talking of recent matters. It was while they were chatting that a loud knock came from the door, “Come in!” The Mayor exclaimed, “Please come to the dining room! There’s plenty of food!” The Mayor called with a cough. In a moment Big Mac was sitting with them not saying a word, “Something is missing.” The Mayor muttered pointing to their wooden plates. It was customary that when a guest was present that the silverware be laid out but the Servant had yet to fetch them, “Friend would you please lay out the silverware for our guest?” The Mayor asked. But it was more of a command. “Thank you Sir. Ah’ thought for sure Ah’ was gonna be sleeping in the rain.” Big Mac said with a forced smile. “It is my pleasure. Any pony in need is welcome here.” “Everywhere Ah’ went Ah’ was turned away! Ah’ had the money! Right here!” Big Mac said showing him the coin purse, “105 bits in all! Ah’ made it all honestly, serving my time in the Canterlot dungeons! Just because of my past and my name.” Big Mac frowned. The Servant returned and replaced every pony’s wooden bowl with one of silver, “Well I personally love your name.” Big Mac looked at him quizzically. He did not recall telling him his name, “But Ah’ never told you my name.” Big Mac stated. “No need to. I already know it. Your name is Brother.” The Mayor told him with a smile as he began to eat his cheese. “Ah’…Thank you, when Ah’ came here I loathed every pony! But now Ah’ can’t tell what I feel.” Big Mac said as he bit into his bread. They all ate in silence. The Servant eyeing the guest cautiously. But he dared not question the Mayor’s decision. When they finished the Mayor left for his bed while the Servant showed Big Mac to his room. Big Macintosh gave his thanks and the Servant left. All the house was quiet.