Meeting the Locals
At last, I had reached the veritable promised land for many pony fans, and it wouldn’t be long before I’d be in Ponyville, if the cheery welcome sign was correct. Judging by the look of the picturesque, familiar town before me, it was an honest sign.
How many dreams and wishes were about reaching this place despite it being considered fictional? It felt… wrong walking dreams and wishes that weren’t mine, but I was the only one who made it. Sure, visiting Ponyville had been in my hopes since I’d learned of my destination, but to actually be there? My eyes burned with tears as I sat in the stopped cart, and no amount of sniffling cleared it.
“Sorry,” said a faded-yellow unicorn standing in a neatly trimmed lawn. “My wife doesn’t let me cut onions in the house.” He clumsily levitated a cutting board, knife, and ludicrously strong vegetables. I wondered if he’d tell me where I can buy my own weapons-grade produce.
“Salutations, background pony! I have some scrap metal here, and I was hoping there was a place in town where I could sell or just get rid of it.”
”I doubt that’s his name.” Dave’s palm came close to breaking the sound barrier as he brought it to his face.
“What?” His magic faltered, and he almost lost everything when he jumped back to avoid the falling knife. “Bah, look what you made me do. Just head to the recycling center. Find Mane Street and look for a sign pointing you down a different road. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wash this knife.” He stormed into his house, where I promptly heard a mare shouting.
“How about a simple hello next time? I doubt anyone here will answer to ‘background pony’ or know what you’re talking about.” Dave’s sigh could barely be heard over the rolling cart.
“Still gonna blame it on being rusty.”
“Better clean it up then. Doubt you’ll get along well with the locals if you greet them all like that. Is Ponyville everything you thought it would be so far?”
Each building varied significantly from the others in shape and material. Some roofs were thatched, while others were tiles or even shingles. Each house reflected its owner to an extent, and the personal touch in every building was a welcome sight. Behind me, Dave muttered something about ponies being Bavarian. Silly Dave, that wasn’t a horse pun.
The residents of the town were out and about, although the thoroughfare in front of me remained mostly empty. Many did double-takes when they realized it wasn’t a unicorn driving, but they all merely shrugged and carried on. Like their homes, the ponies were all different—I’d expected to see more than a few near-identical ponies but was relieved to find that wasn’t the case.
Mane Street was like the previous road except with many more ponies, and I could recognize a few of the buildings: Sugarcube Corner in the distance, and the tree library some distance beyond that, to name a couple. A happy town surrounded me, and my mood followed suit. Not that I wasn’t happy before, but come on, it’s Ponyville.
It was the same as my memories of the show. The same lovely buildings. The same joyful ponies conversing, playing, or just interacting in general. The same relaxed atmosphere. The same pegasi flying through the air. The same occasional changeling thrown into the mix. The same market, although it was in the other direction, with its many stands and shops. Wait, changelings?
“Well, that’s different,” I whispered to Dave, slightly nodding my head towards one who sat at a table with two earth ponies.
“The pony bug thing? Isn’t that a changeling?” At my nod, he observed the group while I kept them in the corner of my vision. “The ponies it’s talking to don’t seem to be under duress, and it’s not in disguise obviously. Looks like they’re accepted here, but I don’t see many. You should figure out if they moved in before or after that whole wedding fiasco. Are you keeping an eye on the signs or just gawking at the local flavor?”
“I’m starting to think we turned the wrong way. Not like Mr. Onions gave concise directions,” I grumbled. We passed a mare with a two-tone mane and her seafoam companion, and the cart swerved with my double take. “Holy exclamation! Is that Lyra and Bon Bon?”
“Holy… What the hell is wrong with you? And maybe?” Dave shrugged. “I don’t know your pony pals, and I don’t really care to.”
They looked almost exactly like I had expected. Lyra, the unicorn, had her lyre cutie mark and a coat just a shade darker than her mane, the signature white stripe running through it and her tail.
Bon Bon’s navy and pink mane curled epically. Yes, epically, and I’m sorry to say it, but she’s more of a lemon chiffon color than a cream one. Looking at the three wrapped candies on her flank made my stomach rumble. I was going to headbutt her mother if her name turned out to be Sweetie Drops.
I waved at them like I was trying to shake off my foreleg. Bon Bon looked baffled while Lyra waved back with matched gusto. Her eyes lit up in wonder when I moved on.
Eventually, Mane Street came to an end and the recycling center still eluded me. A well-travelled dirt road stretched on into the distance, and a sprawling apple orchard occupied the land to the left of it as far I could see. To my right sat empty railroad tracks. A nearby wooden signpost informed me this was the way to Aaaaaappleloosa. The sign only had two A's, but one does not simply just say Appleloosa. That and I was afraid Braeburn would pop up and say it if I didn’t.
My path went north then east, and I hoped rest of my first day here wouldn’t be spent searching for my destination. The signs told me how to get to a variety of places, but none of them mentioned a recycling center, so I definitely hadn’t just overlooked it.
Lyra and Bon Bon were much closer to the market the second time I passed them. Lyra recognized me and waved once more while her friend facehoofed.
“Hello again!” she chirped in a voice laced with energy.
“Hey there.” My foreleg was aching from the all the waving. “Would either of you mind pointing me to the recycling center?”
”Oh sure, now you act normal.”
“What’s that?” Lyra asked inquisitively.
“He means the scrap shack, Lyra.” Bon Bon sighed, turned to me, and spoke with a kind voice not unlike a favorite aunt’s. “If you’re watching the signs, it’s just after the market.”
“Oh, so I was going the wrong way.” I let out a sheepish chuckle. “If you two need to go that way, I could give you a lift. There should be enough room.”
“No thank you, we were just—”
“Yes!” exclaimed Lyra. She made it almost entirely over the side of the cart in a single leap, but her rear legs caught it, and she crashed inside the cart with a loud thump. “Ooh, what’s all this stuff?”
“Bon Bon seems to have her hands full.” Dave laughed. “I think I can handle these two.”
“Lyra Heartstrings! Get down from there!” Bon Bon called as she stamped her hoof. The use of a full name sent shivers down my spine. “It’s not much of a walk if we hitch a ride.”
“But Bon Bon,” she whined. There was barely any time to avert my gaze before she gave Bon Bon well-practiced puppy-dog eyes. “She offered, and it’s so cool!” She grabbed a random light. “See? Look at this, who knows what this does?”
“That’s a lamp, dear. We have at least one in every room of the house.”
“Oh. Well, I still need to know how she’s moving the wagon.”
“With magic. You’re a unicorn, Lyra, you know these things.” Bon Bon’s patience was the stuff of legends. Bards belted out epic tales of it in feast halls everywhere.
“But she isn’t.” A minty hoof dramatically pointed in my direction.
“It’s probably just under her mane.” She turned to me. “You do have a lovely, voluminous mane after all.”
My traitorous cheeks grew warm at the half-truthful compliment. Voluminous? Sure, but “lovely” is definitely not a word one should use to describe slightly singed bedhead. “Lyra’s right though, I’m not a unicorn, unless my horn fell off. Just an earth pony.” Somehow, I avoided punching myself when trying to pull back my mane.
“See?” Lyra’s grin came close to making the top half of her head fall off. “Like you said, I know these things.”
“Alright, you win, but only because you got me curious. And only if we take the long route home. Walking.”
“Fine fine, just get in.” She bucked open the back gate, which drew looks from all around with the resulting clamor.
“I’m sorry about Lyra. She’s a little excitable.” Bon Bon’s well-used sigh accompanied her as she climbed in.
“And the understatement of the year award goes to...” Dave squeezed himself into a corner near me.
“Infinite energy?” My two new passengers jumped as the cart moved.
“Exactly. Hey, we’re moving! Lyra stop bouncing—you’ll hurt yourself.” Bon Bon pulled her friend down and forced her to sit. “You wouldn’t want to do that to poor, oh, forgive me, I never got your name, although I’m sure you heard ours earlier.”
I nodded. “Sterling Gears, at your service.”
“Don’t hear names like that often, but it suits you.”
“I know it’s magic, but how?” Lyra poked at the throttle and caused the cart to lurch forwards. At my worried glare, she laughed weakly and scooted away. “Sorry. So, how does it work?”
My explanation to them was nearly identical to the one Rainbow Dash received, although insisted I give more detail on how I’d figured out the shape. The cart didn’t seem to mind the extra passengers, and Dave had even stopped grumbling. Bon Bon was relieved I refused Lyra’s request to go faster. The mare’s sharp jab to the unicorn’s ribs interrupted the doleful eyes boring into my soul. How wasn’t that illegal?
“Alright, here’s the market. I think. Is there anywhere specific you two wanted to go?”
Bon Bon quickly replied while clamping a hoof over Lyra’s mouth, “No, but thank you for the trip. It was fascinating.” They climbed down from the cart. Well, Bon Bon climbed down. Lyra wiggled her rump in preparation for setting a record for the long jump.
The resulting collision between Lyra and a teal pegasus made me wince but Dave guffawed. “Now that’s entertainment. Are they like that in the show? I don’t remember seeing them much.”
“They’re just in the background in the show. I think they might have had one or two lines over the entire series if any. I have read a lot of fanfics about those two though, and they way they acted seems kinda close to the popular portrayal.” Dave didn’t need to know the rumored romance between the two—he was a dirty, dirty man. “Lyra’s usually written as human-obsessed, especially with hands, but she didn’t mention anything about it.”
“A pony obsessed with humans? Weird.” A changeling buzzed by, chatting with an airborne pegasus. “Do changelings have more of a friendly appearance in many fanfictions?”
I shook my head and slowed my cart behind a trailer stacked with bales of hay. “Well, not in a lot of them, but there are some. With how many different ones there are, we’re pretty much just throwing darts.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. This isn’t the exact Equestria you know from just the show. But, we’ve seen the changelings and two extra’s personalities, so that’s a ‘could be’ and a ‘probably’ respectively.”
“So what you’re saying is this place was created from an amalgam of the show and the fanbase’s contributions? That doesn’t sit right in my gut.”
“It’s a possibility, but I’m inclined to agree with your gut for once because that sounds stupid. What I was really getting at was to keep an eye out for stuff that wasn’t in the show, but usually happens in fanfics. Definitely still a crapshoot at figuring it out for sure though. Whoa, she actually wears a cowboy hat?”
Following his eyes, I saw a creamy-orange mare with a blonde mane, whom I instantly recognized as Applejack, and she was giving me an evil eye that could strip paint. When she noticed me looking at her, she curtly made an I’ve-got-my-eye-on-you gesture.
My response was appropriate: I floored it and passed the inching trailer amid startled shouts and screams. I expertly (read ‘luckily’) dodged all the pedestrians on my way out of the market and didn’t slow down until my turn sped past.
The Scrap Shack was a better moniker for the building than recycling center. I didn’t know where ponies got sheet metal, but the place was covered by, if not made from, it. A sneeze would have knocked the whole place over. No windows marred its rust-stained sides and a lone pristine door sat in front of me, not caring how out of place it was.
A hollow sound rang out as I knocked on the door. “Hello? Anypony in there?”
“What you want?” snapped a gruff voice to my left.
A crazy-eyed unicorn stood nearby. His rust-colored coat was the perfect camouflage for this place, and I was unsure if he had spots of grease in his bone-white mane or if his old hair color was still fighting its losing war. A few tools hung from a belt fixed around his waist. He fixed that one maddening eye on me and asked again.
“I have scrap.” Each word stuck in my throat and had to be forced out.
He looked at the wagon and shook his head. “I don’t take wood, only metal.”
“Inside the cart.”
He grunted and flicked his head towards the cart. I opened the tailgate and silently motioned towards the metal. While he skimmed over my supply, I noticed his cutie mark was an ingot. “Looks good, but more than a little damaged. Is that a chunk of thaumite over there?”
It took me a few moments to figure out he was referring to my throttle. “Yeah, but I’m not trying to get rid of that, just the other stuff.”
“You twist it up like that?” He asked. I nodded, smiling with a hint of pride. He levitated one of the lamps over, inspecting it closely. Then he licked it. “Too much peppermint. You caused some hefty thaumic feedback, didn’t you?” He sighed at my baffled expression and spoke slowly. “You blew yourself up, didn’t ya?”
“Oh! Yeah, I did. It was fun.”
The roaring, hearty laughter was the last sound I’d expected from the aged stallion. “I like you, kid. It’s good to meet another pony with an appreciation for not letting things like caution and safety get in the way of good mechanics. Folks around here call me Metalhead.” He waited for my introduction before continuing. “Word of advice though: ponies around here get angsty if you wake them up with an accident, so try explode outside of town.”
“Sound advice. So, what’ll you give me for the other metal?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. You fried them pretty good. Twenty bits for the whole lot.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Twenty, and I don’t give you a hoof upside the head.”
“Twenty it is.” I needed to level my bartering skill.
Metalhead levitated a small, bulging cloth bag over to me and emptied the cart with his magic. As he trotted back behind the shack, he turned his head and said, “You look like a gal who could swing a pick. If you don’t mind diamond dogs, do some digging over in the Gem Hills. They mostly leave the metal alone, and nopony wants to tango with them. Blow them up enough and they should leave you be.” His voice slowly tapered off as he disappeared from sight.
I shouted my thanks after him, hoping he’d hear. It was time to leave, but Dave was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to get chewed out for leaving him behind again, I briefly surveyed the area.
Nothing stuck out. There were a few houses unlucky enough to be situated so close to the scrap shack, and I hoped they at least had thick walls. The road had more than a few scorch marks on it, and they all radiated outwards from the building behind me. A few ponies hurried by, trying not to look in my direction or glimpsing behind themselves.
They were taking peeks at a bubblegum earth pony talking to a very bewildered Dave, who begged with his eyes for me to save him. I knew better than to ask why. There was no questioning the Pie. Sorry Dave, you’re on your own. Before she could drag me into a musical number or party, I fled and left Dave at the mercy of Pinkie Pie.
With my paltry stock of bits, I wandered into the market, intent on buying some supplies and a meal, if I could afford it. Oddly enough, I found a store across from Sofas and Quills that was aptly named Cups and Picks.
The shop’s owner was surprised to see a pony that hadn’t come in for dishware, and she gladly sold me a heavy pick at a discount. At the hardware store, I picked up a pair of heavy-duty saddlebags, a tool belt, and some unbent tools to go in them.
The daisy sandwich I ordered at some random café tasted somewhat like a soggy BLT, minus the B. The sauce was doing all the flavor work, but the daisies gave it the ol’ college try.
The sky had just turned slightly orange, and reminded me that I’d wanted to visit the library. I would make it before it closed. I had to. I needed to read up as soon as possible so the most basic questions wouldn’t stump me. I wanted to—what was that store over there?
It turned out to be a shop that sold clothing and equipment suited for pegasi. The pegasus clerk behind the register groaned at the thought of another customer right before closing. Surely he would have to stay for an extra hour, and what’s an earth pony even doing in a pegasus shop?
Buying goggles, that’s what. You can’t properly tinker without a good pair of goggles. I could say it was for protecting my eyeholes, but that wouldn’t be the entire truth. You need goggles to tinker effectively. Plus they looked stylish and it’s fun to say goggle. They rested atop my forehead, ready to be pulled down at a moment’s notice.
Right, the library. My speed was even faster than before, earning several dirty looks from ponies walking home from work. I wanted to powerslide into a stop, but it proved to be too difficult without actual brakes. The wagon was parked on what I thought was Twilight’s lawn. Pony towns have a lot of lawn, and it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
A young voice grumbled from behind the closed door. “Just a minute!” He continued louder than he meant to. “Not again.”
Several concerning noises echoed behind the door, and finally I heard him again. He started talking before opening the door. “For the last time, Princess Twilight Sparkle is on royal business and I don’t know when she’ll be back.” Exactly two uncomfortable moments passed before he spoke again. “You’re not Filthy Rich. I mean, I’m glad you aren’t, but the point still stands. She’s not in.”
The door closed on my hoof. “Did she take all the books with her? I’m just here for the library part of Ponyville’s Royal Palace.” A gentle smile snuck onto my face. There was something about Spike that made him endearing, and I had to resist ruffling the spines on his head.
He tiredly chortled. “If we were talking about any other pony that could only be a joke. Come on in. I’m Spike. Dig the swell goggles.” The dragon opened the door and offered a claw.
“Sterling Gears. I’m not keeping you open, am I?” The sound and feel of claws on hoof made my eye twitch.
“Don’t worry about it.” Slitted eyes glanced around for any eavesdroppers, and he whispered, “I’ll deny it if you mention it to anypony else, but the library doesn’t really have an exact closing time. Twilight just uses it to kick out ponies so she can get back to her research projects.” He returned to a more audible volume. “I’m just glad to talk to somepony who isn’t here for the princess part of Princess Twilight.”
“Filthy Rich?”
“I think it’s for something about opening a new store. He doesn’t understand that he still needs to go through Mayor Mare’s office.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you know what you’re looking for? I’m sure I can find whatever you need.”
“It’s my first time here, so I’m clueless. I figured something about geology and mechanics, so if you have anything like those, I’d be happy.” History and culture could wait. I had rocks to smack and thingamajiggers to build.
“You got it.” Spike scampered off behind a stack, and I soon heard the sound of a rolling ladder.
Finally alone, I was able to take a look around but not before silently screaming with glee that I was in Twilight’s library. And suddenly books, thousands of them.
Eeyup, that’s all there really is to know about the main room of the library. There were more books here than there were ponies in Equestria. Books lined carefully shaped shelves that fit with the round nature of the tree, which was much larger than I expected. It looked bigger on the inside.
There were a couple small tables, a leafy pot resting on each one, and the cushions on the floor around them, but seriously, books. Books everywhere. Buried behind the stacks like an afterthought were the stairs going up and the entrance to what I figured was the kitchen.
Spike returned with four books, each tome full of pages faintly yellowed with age. He pushed them up onto a table taller than he was with practiced ease. Only one was on mechanics, and compared to the others it was like a pamphlet pretending to be paperback.
Kudos to him for carrying those, they had to be at least half his weight. “Sorry there isn’t much on machines. It’s just not a well-known subject I guess. We could probably put in a request to Canterlot’s library though. I know Twilight would be excited for, well, anything she hadn’t read yet.”
“That’s alright. Thanks for grabbing them.” I took a seat and opened An Introduction to Geology: Equestria’s Rocks. At first glance, I could already tell this was going to be a long read. “If you want to talk, I can handle both.”
“Cool, I’m going to go put a teapot on then. Jasmine alright?”
“Sure? I’m not exactly a connoisseur.”
Getting past the first paragraph took many tries. It wasn’t because it was too hard to understand. It was because I kept nodding off over how boring it was. There had been glaciers that moved faster than this book. Just as I was about to start my tenth attempt, the sound of an opening door interrupted me, and my attention span cheered.
“Spike! I’m home!” the lavender alicorn Twilight called. Her wings flared when she noticed me tiredly looking up from the book. “Oh, hello there. You startled me.”
I couldn’t forget she was royalty. She needed to be greeted properly and shown manners and blah blah blah—there was no need to fret. I had this. “Hey there, Princess Purple. What’s up?”
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Princess... Purple...
Brilliant... Just brilliant.
er mai gerd i love this story
Just wait until she finds out!
Let's hope Twilight didn't yet get to the banishing-ponies-to-the-moon part in her Princess curriculum.
2736803 whew, you had me worried there for a moment!
does this mean i can keep hugging you?
2743125
As long as I can keep typing.
You're a really good writer. I really like the contrast between Dave and Sterling, and I keep finding myself laughing every chapter. This is gold, keep up the good work!
2745103
Thank you! I always find myself worrying about whether I'm keeping them in character or not, but I seem to be doing alright.
2745231
Absolutely! I feel the need to check for new chapters about twice a day by now, even after you just posted one. :D
2743717 we will see how much story we can squeeze out of you with a well timed pinkie hug.
2745631
If I could do twice a day, I would.
2745749
Not quite sure there's a big enough container for you to squeeze it into, and you might need a strainer to keep out all the other stories I have stuck up there.
I'm enjoying this re-read immensely.
Also: Your mom's bigger on the inside.
“Hey there, Princess Purple. What’s up?”
>>TR NINJAKILLER
Jesus Christ stop fu*king complaining if you don't like the story then stop reading it and giving it such a bad name when the story is perfectly fine!
Other than this one person ruining the story it's a great story keep up the good work!
That final line though
Background Pony reference?
What you did there.
I see it.
This. Just this.
This may be the best fic on this entire bloody site.
I really want to see gears make a multi stage rocket for some reason
This is how you greet queen Elizabeth
"Looks like I forgot to stop typing."
That has to be one of the best lines I've seen in an author's note. Pure gold right there.
Changelings, Golden Oaks Library still stands, and Princess Twilight Sparkle...….AU !!!!
antsy
Lilac...
Kevin?
you did good.