The Simple Life

by Thornwing

Trade Ya

Applejack scooped up the handle of another basket of apples in her mouth and trotted over to her next delivery. Blueblood wiped the sweat from his eyes and fussed with his mane to try and extract more of the hay that had embedded itself over the course of a restless night.

With only a half dozen or so delivery stops left, it was taking longer than Applejack anticipated. The extra help she was getting slowed her down considerably. The cart load diminished as they went, but some goods also came back in trade. Blueblood’s incessant whining made the work drag on even more.

On her return, he posed yet another question making an even dozen on the day. “Tell me again how this works—you trade for things you need?”

“That’s right. We give our neighbors the apples that we grow on the farm, and they give us whatever they make in trade.” Applejack tossed a bottle of milk on the cart and started off down the path again. “Sometimes they just pay with bits, but it’s nice when we both get something we need.”

Blueblood strained to get the cart moving again so he could follow. “But not everypony pays you in bits or makes an exchange of goods, so why do you still give them your apples?” The intricacies of the system confused him to no end. As a prince, everything he wanted had always been laid at his hooves. Money and trade were foreign concepts meant for those born to the common class. The money part he partially understood due to the number of affluent ponies in Canterlot, but the idea of Applejack giving away her goods freely baffled his royal mind.

“Not every pony can afford to buy our apples, but that don’t mean they don’t need ‘em.” Applejack gestured back down the path. “That young mare a couple blocks back can barely afford to keep a roof over her head—and she’s got a hungry foal to feed as well. I've got plenty of apples, and it won’t hurt me none to give her some extras.”

“But you make her work off her debt, don’t you?” Blueblood brushed back his mane ejecting a spray of lingering chaff.

“She’s already got a job, and what little time she isn't working, she spends with her young’un.” Applejack steered the cart and driver around. “Let’s go back and I’ll show you what I mean.” Blueblood followed her direction and slowly made the turn. Retracing his steps down the path, the weight of the cart seemed to double.

They pulled up in front of a small house on the edge of town and Applejack released Blueblood from the harness. She reached into the cart and pulled out a bucket of carrots tossing in the recently acquired bottle of milk. Passing over to Blueblood, she shoved the bucket handle in his mouth. “Go over there and knock on the door. When she answers, give her this food,” Applejack ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” Blueblood slapped a sarcastic hoof to his forehead in salute and shuffled off toward the house. With the bucket hanging from his mouth, he could hardly object. It did feel nice to be free of the cart harness, however.

Coming up to the drab wooden door, he reached out and knocked, careful not to chip a hoof. From within, he could hear the muffled voice of a young filly. “Mommy, mommy—somepony’s at the door. Can I get it?” He didn't catch a reply, but the handle turned and the door swung in. Standing in the doorway, a light-lavender filly with a golden mane and big orange eyes stared up at him. The tip of a horn barely emerged from the crown of her head through a mess of tangled hair.

Blueblood stared down at the little one. Bucket handle still in his mouth, he tried to speak. “Ith yer mother hoe?” The filly just sat there with a wide grin on her face and blinked once in response.

Coming to the rescue, a young Pegasus mare rounded the corner and stepped in front of the filly. She pulled the little pony back, scolding her actions. “What have I told you about opening the door to strangers, Dinky?”

The little one hung her head. “That I should wait for you cause I’m not a grown-up.”

Blueblood wasted no time with pleasantries and dropped the bucket on the ground. “These are for you, I guess.”

The mare glanced down at the offering and shook her head. “But… I can’t pay for those.” She reached out a hoof and tried to push the bucket away.

Blueblood raised a hoof and motioned over his shoulder. “She says I’m supposed to give them away. I guess she doesn't want them—probably rotten.”

The Pegasus raised her head and peered out into the street. “Oh, hello Applejack. Weren’t you just here?”

“We had some extra stuff,” Applejack replied. “Thought you’d like some milk and carrots. They’re definitely not rotten.”

“I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” Biting her lip, she moved aside as Dinky scampered through her legs and hoisted the bucket handle over her little horn before gleefully retreating into the house. The mare gestured after her with her foreleg, addressing her guests. “Please come in and have some dinner then. I’m sure I can whip up a carrot-apple salad in no time at all.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we’re way behind as it is. You two enjoy and be sure and let me know if you need anything else.” Applejack quickly slipped into the cart harness. “C’mon Blueblood, we need to finish our route so we can get back to the farm.”

“Thank you so much, Applejack. We really appreciate it.” She waved and pulled back inside before shutting the door in Blueblood’s face.

Blueblood’s jaw dropped an inch. He turned back to Applejack, and then back at the door, and then back at the departing Applejack. “But… the carrots? My dinner?” His appeal fell on deaf ears as Applejack broke into a trot leaving him stunned, shaken, and pretty far behind once he realized his meal ticket was leaving him in the dust.

Free of the load of the cart, it didn’t take much to catch up to her. Even so, he came up panting following the short run. His back hurt, his legs hurt, even his mane and tail hurt. Actually, they were more frazzled than hurt, but it still felt the same. You can do this. Can’t let her beat you.

Applejack stopped with her payload poised to continue the deliveries. “How about you take care of the rest?” She gestured back to the half dozen apple baskets left in the cart. “Let’s just give ‘em away, you know, to save time. Don’t want to be late for supper.”

Blueblood’s teeth began to hurt just staring at the bucket handles. Nonetheless, he bit down and brought up a catch. Swinging free of the cart, he hauled his way over to the house. The bucket rattled as it hit the ground and his hoof beat the door with a dull thud. From over his shoulder, Applejack prodded, “remember to smile,” before moving on ahead.

An older stallion opened the door and greeted Blueblood with a half-tooth grin. Through a strained smirk of his own, Blueblood addressed him. “No charge.” Turning away, his attention shifted back to the cart and making the next delivery.

The old pony replied, “Thank you, kind sir.”

“You’re welcome,” came Blueblood’s hesitant response. Processing the exchange, he hurried to catch up with the moving cart. Did he just say what I think he said? Kind? What did I say? Adding that to his previous experience, the image of the mare and her filly remained at the fore of his thoughts.

Over the course of the next five stops, he struggled to understand the warm feeling spreading inside him. He tried to pass it off as hunger, but it didn't quite fit. This was something new; something he didn't know existed. These ponies received something for nothing, and they weren't even royalty. Words he rarely heard nipped at his ears with each encounter. Kind. Generous. Grateful. He soaked it all in.

Applejack smiled and tipped her hat to her grateful patrons. A priceless lesson learned was worth all the apples she had to give. She pulled out Blueblood’s instructions from under her hat and watched as the second line changed to gold. Do something nice for somepony else. Glancing down at the next two steps, she figured it would take more than apples to help him overcome the rest of Celestia’s simple checklist.

With a spring in his step and a bounce to his gait, Blueblood smiled as he joined back up with Applejack. “I might be wrong, but I feel like I’m getting the hang of this.”

“Just in time to head home.” Applejack clapped Blueblood’s shoulder. “Race you to supper.” With a clop of her hooves, she took off toward the farm.

Blueblood hurried after, pain registering again as he watched in awe at her ease in driving the cart. Must be an Earth Pony thing—impervious to pain.

---

“I don’t get it. Why the fascination with apples?” Blueblood hunched over another plate laced with the family’s staple fruit.

“We live on an apple farm, duh.” Apple Bloom scooped up a spoonful of applesauce and casually flipped it around.

“Sow what you reap—or was it the other way around?” Granny Smith maneuvered her knife and fork into an apple turnover while nudging the filly beside her. “Don’t play with your food, hon.”

“Stick with what you know.” Applejack stood up to carry her plate to the sink. “Let the neighbors take care of the rest.”

“Surely you diversify to some degree.” Blueblood chomped away at his food oblivious to his manners in speaking with a full mouth.

“We got a small patch out back. Just a couple things is all. Parsnips, celery, radishes, carrots, potatoes…” Applejack tipped her plate in the sink. “We’re known for the apples though.”

“I see.” Blueblood’s plate reflected his tired gaze. “They are quite good, if I must say.” Pushing back from the table, he stretched and yawned. “Time for bed then. If you wouldn’t mind, could you find another place for your rooster? I much prefer a gradual arousal come morning.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Applejack scooped up Blueblood’s plate with a frown watching the stallion depart for the barn.

Comments

[deathbot4]

As much as I like Blueblood redemption stories and this concept in general, this is WAAAAAAAY too fast. I'm never going to believe that ten minutes of being forced to give apples to ponies is going to change a guy that has behaved totally different for his entire life. The kind of profound life lessons that Blueblood needs to learn should take time.

[K9Thefirst1]

5318127

Well to be fair, this reads like an episode of the show, and 180's are hard to pull off (believably) in 22 minutes.