Set In Stone

by kudzuhaiku

Chapter 8

“Before I can help you, I’d like to know more about you.” Cheerilee said, settling into an overstuffed chair, and looking at the pegasus sprawled on the couch.

Sandow shifted, feeling entirely too full, trying to get comfortable. An hour or two had passed, giving him time to recover. The family had retreated to the living room, as they called it, a room larger than Sandow’s old stone cottage. Applejack lay on another sofa, looking sullen. Victory had come at a price.

“When Applebloom and I were walking here, she told me that you hunted down other ponies.” Cheerilee said. “I’ll admit. I am very curious as to why you would do that.”

Sandow sighed. It seemed that more history was expected. He tried to collect his thoughts, his memories, recalling everything that he had lived through.

“I’m sure there must have been a good reason,” encouraged Cheerilee, “but what about the law? Becoming a vigilante has strict punishment now.”

Sandow squirmed, wondering how ponies now would judge him for what he had done back them. It was an uncomfortable thought. He tapped his forehooves together, looking pensive.

“Please Sandow, I’d like to know and understand you better, so I can help you.” Cheerilee said again. “You have a unique view of history that I’d like to hear about. You were there. All we have now are books. And books aren’t always honest.”

“Why learn to read if the books ain’t honest?” Sandow said, the small seed of a drawl blossoming into a delicate sprout.

Nopony said anything for quite some time. Cheerilee looked worried.

“Still important.” Cheerilee finally said, looking concerned. “Many books do tell the truth. Plus, there is pleasure in reading.”

Sandow frowned. He wasn’t entirely pleased with the answer.

Cheerilee looked at him pleadingly and Sandow felt a twinge of guilt. The mare was very kind to be helping him.

“My sire, Thud, taught me how to fight. I learned from an early age, and I was a quick study.” Sandow began. “My dam, Bailey Sweet…”

“Your damn what?” Cheerilee asked, interrupting, and looking quite upset.

Why do ponies keep saying that, Sandow wondered.

“His ma.” Granny Smith said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s awful to say about your mother!” Cheerilee said.

“Dam means mother!” Granny Smith explained in annoyance. “I called my own mother dam before ponies got all persnickety about it. Now keep going Sandow, I’m in the mood for a story.”

“My dam, Bailey Sweet, taught me how to speak well. The gift of a silver tongue. I wasn’t gifted at it, like she was, but I was able to talk to ponies. Endear myself.” Sandow took a deep breath and then continued. “My talents lead me to find work. My first real job was returning a thief. I tracked him down, talked to ponies that knew him, and eventually found out where he was. I cracked his skull and brought him back to answer for what he had done.”

Applebloom sat on the floor, entranced. She looked up, her eyes wide with wonder and adoration.

“After that, I had lots of work. Ponies would hire me to bring back thieves and debtors. Eventually, I started hunting down ear biters.” Sandow continued.

“Why hunt down another pony over a bit ear?” Applebloom asked.

Sandow sat, silent, staring down at Applebloom.

There was a sudden sharp intake of air from Applejack as she struggled to sit up. “Whoa Nellie!”

Sandow waited, sensing something was about to be said, and he wasn’t sure if he was the one to say it. Silence settled on the room. Cheerilee looked confused, as did Applebloom. Granny Smith looked sad. Big Mac sat blankly.

“Applebloom.” Applejack said, her tone cautious and careful. “Remember that long talk you and I had yesterday and I explained a few things to you?”

Applebloom nodded.

“Well, ya see Applebloom, if I’m pickin’ up on Sandow’s meanin’, an ear biter was somepony that made another pony do something they might not want to be doin’, against their will. Do ya understand?”

Granny Smith nodded, her face creased with the wisdom of old age and hard times.

Applebloom sat for a few moments, thoughtful, and then the dreadful realisation sank in.

Cheerilee reached the same conclusion. She bit down on her lip to keep from saying something.

“Ear biters did bad things.” Sandow said in a low voice. “They’d get hold of an ear and take control. Bite down. Many mares had torn and missing ears. It was a common problem. A mare with half an ear had a hard time finding a good husband.”

“Which is why you reacted the way you did that night with Bluebelle.” Big Mac said, his voice deep and low.

“My mares had perfect untouched ears.” Sandow said, his voice a rumbling growl. “My dam taught me better.” He sat, furious for a few moments, before continuing. “I’d get a name and a mark description from a family member. Or sometimes the mare herself. And I’d go off and find whoever did it and I’d bring them back to face the consequences. I had a knack for finding ponies. My dam’s gift of speech and my sire’s gift of combat served me well. I made a bit of a name for myself. A lot of times there was no coin to pay me. I took the job anyway, it was honest work that needed to be done. I didn’t fight fair and I didn’t fight with any sense of honour. Not with ear biters, anyway. I’d ambush them in their sleep, catch them unawares, or slip them something that would make them sick. And then I’d pummel them into a wet heap so I could haul them back to answer for what they did. I took my payment from whatever valuables my prey had. I made my sire proud. I wasn’t a soldier like he was, but I had my own battle. I brought in all manner of criminals to answer for what they had done.”

Silence hung heavy in the room. Applebloom lay huddled on the floor. After a long stretch of silence, Applebloom went over and crawled up into a chair with her brother, seeking comfort.

“I started young, which I suppose gave me an advantage.” Sandow said, finally continuing. I would go to collect somepony and they’d laugh at me when I told them what I was there for. They’d stop laughing soon enough. Hard to laugh when you are choking on your own teeth. And then I’d tie them up and drag them back. When I got a little older, I was able to fly sometimes. Eventually I traded for a set of hobbles. Hobbles didn’t work so well. I found it was easier to just break some legs. The chains snagged on everything as I drug them through the dirt back to where I started, back to the ponies that wanted them.”

Cheerilee winced.

“I never earned a mark for doing any of that though, so it wasn’t what I was meant to do. I found that I much prefered farming. And being married.”

“You are so young.” Cheerilee said, her face puzzled.

“Maybe now,” Sandow said. “But back then, I was an adult and almost halfway to old age and death.”

Cheerilee stammered wordlessly.

“Most ponies would die in their twentieth to thirtieth season.” Sandow said. “My sire and my dam had just reached their thirties. Old age, disease, bad food, the plague…” Sandow paused. “And so many mares died giving birth.” He shuddered visably. “Thud had trouble moving by the time Hawley was born. His joints were gnarled. And he had hot achy joints. My dam had aged well. She couldn’t have any more foals after having me and that was a blessing. She didn’t grow old right away like other mares did. She was still rather spry in her old age. She was able to care for my sire when the fevers took him and his bones ached.”

“I’m over a hunnert years old.” Granny Smith said suddenly, causing Sandow to break down completely. His face twitched, and he seemed to be completely unable to take in what Granny Smith had said. “And when I was a filly, things weren’t too different from what Sandow lived through. We married young. We lived short lives. And we died young, well, some of us anyhoo. Most of my foal hood filly friends didn’t make it into their thirties. Many died giving birth. I was lucky. Had good wide birthin’ hips. I’m glad to see Applejack and Applebloom have my hips.”

Applejack flushed from embarrassment and tried to become one with the sofa she sat on. She prefered to think of them as applebuckin’ hips.

“I’d be an old mare.” Cheerilee said, looking down at the floor.

“If you was lucky.” Granny Smith chided.

“We take so much for granted now.” Cheerilee said.

“Yeah ya do.” Granny Smith agreed. “Sandow and I know what a rough life is. But we’re old.” Granny Smith said with a wheezing chuckle. “Why, I’m still a spring chicken compared to him.”

“Sandow?” Cheerilee asked.

Sandow looked at the mare addressing him and gave a nod.

“In exchange for learning how to read and write, do you think you could tell me more about the history of your time? I’d really like to know. The good things and the bad things. I feel like it would make me a better teacher.”

“That seems fair.” Sandow said, nodding once again.

“Thank you Sandow.” Cheerilee said.

Author's Note:

Next time, on Set In Stone... Sandow Apple earns his cutie mark.

Comments

[UsurperBronyZant]

Oooooooohh! Dis gun' be guuuuud!!!

[Malandy]

“Most ponies would die in their twentieth to thirtieth season.” ... How many seasons are in a year?

[NobleValor]

I wonder how long that "dam" joke will run (Pun very well intended).

[Nameless cow]

4531362 well water you waiting for? Make a pun or stew.

[Emperor]

Sandow took a deep breath and then continued. “My talents lead me to find work. My first real job was returning a thief. I tracked him down, talked to ponies that knew him, and eventually found out where he was. I cracked his skull and brought him back to answer for what he had done.”
Applebloom sat on the floor, entranced. She looked up, her eyes wide with wonder and adoration.

Uh-oh, I sense some Cutie Mark crusading going on in the future.

Perhaps Sandow should just start saying he lived in a dam instead of referring to his mother as a dam (I wonder how many people get that reference these days).

So I guess we have his age narrowed down to somewhere between 10 to 15 years or seasons old, I'm assuming years (I've seen some people go off using seasons and specifically seasons as a gauge of age and some people use years but call them 'seasons'). So definitely quite the bit younger than Applejack, at least biologically.