Chapter 4
Thunderclouds
By Alaborn
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 4
“Cool!”
Twelve-year-old Thundercloud echoed the sentiments of his two friends as they looked in the window of the toy shop. A matched pair of clockwork bird toys chased each other in the air. It was the toy everypony was talking about.
“They’re really good for flight training,” Crimson Sky said, the pegasus colt fluttering his wings. “You can chase them, or set them to chase you!”
“I want to try controlling them with my magic,” said the unicorn colt, Night Spark.
“I don’t care if they’re educational. They look awesome!” Crimson Sky said.
That the toys were educational, good for both flight and magic training, would help convince one’s parents to buy them. But Thundercloud shook his head when he saw the price. He had some idea of the cost of the gifts his parents would buy him for his birthday or Hearth’s Warming, and these toy birds had to cost ten times as much.
“Come on, let’s go to the park,” Thundercloud said. At least hoofball didn’t cost anything to play.
Thundercloud came home to find his father rummaging through the small shed behind their house. “What are you doing, Dad?” he asked.
“Just looking for the tent. Ah, there it is!” There was a sound of something falling over, and then his father emerged, his coat smudged, pulling a large canvas bag with metal poles sticking out of it.
“Are we camping?” Thundercloud asked quizzically.
“In a way,” his father replied. “I talked with your mother, and we agreed that we’d go for the opening day of cider season this year.”
Thundercloud’s wings buzzed with excitement. The first Saturday of October, the opening of cider season, was only three days away! “We’re really going?”
“Yes, really. But we’re only going once you’re done with your chores.”
“I’ll be ready, Dad!”
Ever since his first autumn in Ponyville, when Thundercloud first heard his classmates talk about the fresh cider from Sweet Apple Acres, he had pestered his parents about going themselves. But something always came up. The cider that later appeared in the market was good, but he always felt like he was missing out.
Thundercloud often had trouble concentrating in school. But with cider on his mind, the final two days of school dragged on. His eyes were always on the clock, and as soon as the final bell rang, he ran straight home. He made sure to do both his chores and his homework right away. And that Friday, once his family finished dinner and the dishes, his father gathered the camping gear.
Though it was more than twelve hours before the Apple family would open sales, there was already a large line of tents set up. It was a beautiful fall evening, pleasantly crisp, and the grounds outside Sweet Apple Acres was host to an impromptu party. Groups of adults talked in small groups, families cooked over campfires, and foals played.
Thundercloud’s eyes brightened as he saw two of the clockwork avians flying overhead. “Mom! Dad! Can I go play?”
“Of course,” his mother replied. “But don’t stray too far.”
Thundercloud headed over to join the foals. A few he recognized from school and his neighborhood, but most must have been from some other part of Ponyville. The ones with the toys were in the latter group, a unicorn colt around his age and a pegasus colt a couple of years younger. Judging by their coloration, they were probably brothers. The unicorn was using his magic to control the clockwork birds as they chased his brother. Two other pegasi joined in this game of aerial tag.
“Can I join in?” Thundercloud asked.
“Sure, but you’ll never catch them!” the unicorn boasted.
Thundercloud zoomed after one of the birds, only to find it dive out of his grasp. He turned, testing the limits of his maneuverability, and pursued. He looked to the other pegasi and nodded. Flying in groups came naturally to pegasi, and a few motions with forelegs and wings organized the pegasus foals into an attack group. With four pegasi working together, they now managed to tag the clockwork birds, though not every time. The unicorn was good, and grinned as he directed the toys.
Soon, more foals joined the game. A cloudball and a hoofball joined the group, and dozens of foals played a monstrous game that combined elements of half a dozen playground games. Somehow, it all made sense at the time, and everypony was smiling once Celestia’s sun set and the parents called their foals to bed.
Thundercloud returned to his parents’ tent. They sat on a cloud positioned near the tent, with a clear view of the night sky and, previously, the sunset.
“Welcome back, son. How was your evening?” his father asked.
“It was great! These two foals had the flying bird toys, and they were awesome, and then we played cloudball and hoofball and tag all at the same time!”
“It sounds like you had fun, son,” his mother said.
His parents hopped off the cloud, but they didn’t kick it away, as Thundercloud expected. Instead, his father looked to him. “It’s going to be a beautiful night, and since our tent will be crowded with all three of us, would you like to sleep outside?”
“Would I? Of course!” Thundercloud replied.
His parents smiled, and headed into the tent, zipping it up. Thundercloud flew onto the cloud and bounced up and down. Ever since he learned to fly, he wanted to live in a cloud house, but his parents always said they couldn’t afford one. They couldn’t even afford a cloud bed, and after the first time Thundercloud brought a cloud into the house, and soaked the carpet, his parents told him to never try that again.
And now, Thundercloud had the chance to sleep in a cloud bed. It wouldn’t last much more than the night, so he didn’t want to waste a minute. He lay on his back, sinking so gently into the mist, feeling the moisture tickle his wings and the hairs of his coat. It was wonderful.
“I wish I had a cloud bed,” Thundercloud whispered to the night sky. But he knew he wouldn’t, not for a long time.
Those clockwork birds, on the other hand, were a lot more reasonable wish. And as he thought about that, Thundercloud saw a shooting star cross the sky. “Maybe someday,” he whispered, as he drifted off to sleep.
At dawn, the line of ponies began to stir. Tents were taken down, breakfast was eaten, and ponies prepared for the opening of cider season. After a quick breakfast of dried fruit and hay, Thundercloud ran down the line. At the front of the line, the gate of Sweet Apple Acres, the members of the Apple family were getting ready. Barrels of cider were being stacked up, and a little stall with a banner over it was ready to receive customers.
If only the Apples were ready too!
Finally, the pony at the front of the line was served. It was the pink mare who worked at the bakery, and she was somehow able to carry dozens of foamy mugs of cider without spilling a drop, all while walking on two legs.
“Wait a minute. This cider is alcoholic?” Thundercloud asked his parents.
“No, of course not,” his father replied.
“Why would you think that, sweetie?” his mother asked.
“It’s all foamy!”
“What does that do with anything?” his father wondered.
Now, Thundercloud wondered as well. He had had cider before, of course, bought in large juice bottle. It looked like apple juice, and certainly didn’t foam up when poured. Where had he seen it before?
He pictured in his mind a tall glass, smooth, cylindrical, with a slight taper, wider at the lip than at the base. It was filled with an amber liquid with a head of white foam. He took the glass in his hand and sipped, enjoying the tart flavor of apples with the bite of alcohol.
He mimed the gesture, and realized something. He was looking at a hoof. He was sure he saw a hand, a human hand, in his vision. But try as he might, he couldn’t recall the image. Instead, he saw his own foreleg and a wooden mug.
“Come along, son.”
The line was moving now. It looked like all the preliminary work the Apples did helped keep the line moving smoothly. As he waited in line, he watched their process. Cider was poured from the original stack of barrels, and while the largest of the Apples was busy making more, he couldn’t keep up with demand. Surely, before the day was out, they would run out.
But fortunately, Thundercloud was closer to the front of the line. After another thirty minutes, they reached the front, and his father plunked down the bits for three mugs of cider.
The youngest of the Apples held out a wooden mug, filled with foamy cider. The aroma of fresh, tart apples greeted him. He took the mug, placing his hoof through the wide handle. He secured it in his pastern and lifted it to his lips.
The first taste of fresh cider made him smile. It was ten times better than the stuff in the bottle! It had the same kind of spices that made it different from apple juice, but it was even more delicious when fresh!
But it wasn’t the same flavor that passed through his mind in that vision.
He stared again at the wooden mug, with its wide handle. There was that word again, handle. A hand could hold this mug in two places, and a lot easier than his hoof!
Within moments, the cider was gone. His parents were still savoring their mugs of cider, chatting with some of the ponies in line. Thundercloud walked over to the large wooden tub sitting next to the stall, and dropped off his dirty mug.
A buzzing sound caught his attention. The bird toys were again soaring through the air as their owners, somewhere in line, played with them. Again, he wished he had the money for toys of his own.
Over at the stall, a large box of bits stood, mocking him. There was so much money there, and his pouch was empty. A ten bit coin rested on top of the pile.
He just needed to wait.
The latest barrel of cider ran dry. The orange mare headed over to the stack of barrels to fetch another. The red stallion continued to run on the treadmill of the cider press, focused on nothing but his hooves in front of him. The filly selling the cider turned, helping get the bucket of used mugs onto the back of the elderly mare.
Thundercloud extended his wing, inching his feathers over that ten bit coin.
A hoof came down suddenly on Thundercloud’s wing. It was not hard enough to hurt, but his wing was pinned to the box of bits. The orange mare, whose name he remembered to be Applejack, looked at him sternly.
“Now hold on there, pardner. You don’t want to put your wings where they don’t belong,” she said.
Thundercloud stared at the mare. The feathers of his wing separated and lifted above the pile of bits.
“Now, if it’s bits you fancy, you bring your ma and pa over here, and tell them you’re looking to work. We can always use a little help during cider season, and we’ll pay you fairly for your work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thundercloud replied meekly.
Thundercloud steeled himself and walked over to his parents. “Mom? Dad?”
“Yes, son?” his father said.
“There’s this toy I like, but I don’t have the bits for, but Miss Applejack there says there’s work I could do, and she’d pay me.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” his father said.
“You can trust Applejack. She’s an honest mare,” his mother added.
Thundercloud returned to Applejack, bringing his parents. “Can I work for you, Miss Applejack?”
She looked to his parents, who nodded. “Well, welcome aboard, pardner! We got a mess of mugs that need to be washed.”
The rest of the day, Thundercloud worked. He stood on a stool, his barrel resting against the edge of the sink, his hooves either washing dirty mugs with a sponge or drying the mugs with a dishtowel. Periodically, one of the Apples would return with a bucket of dirty mugs, and take away a bucket of clean ones. The only break was for lunch, some delicious apple fritters, but no more than fifteen minutes later, he was back at the sink.
Late in the afternoon, after the last of the cider was sold, Applejack returned with the last bucket of dirty mugs. Thundercloud reached for them, but she waved him off. “That’s enough for today,” she said.
Thundercloud stepped off the stool, his legs all feeling numb. “Thanks, Miss Applejack.”
“Shucks, you can just call me Applejack. Now here’s your pay.”
Thundercloud looked at the hoofful of bits Applejack gave him. It was fair, generous even. But it wasn’t enough.
“I think you’ll learn to appreciate the bits you earn with your own hard work, Thundercloud,” she said. “And if it’s more bits you want, we have two more days of cider sales.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to my parents, and if they say that it’s okay, I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“You do that. Look to tomorrow, ‘cause tomorrow is a fresh chance to be a better pony.”
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good chapter little short but still good. I like Thunderclouds little antics, and that he is still struggling in no giving in to temptation of steeling, it really feel that he is a kid and not just nice cardboard cutout . I wander if Thunderclouds was ones a human with his seeming hallucination with handed handles. What's up with that?
I'm looking forward to the next chapter
Something about this line feels off. It's starting to give me the hebbie jebbies. It's like a conditioning thing.
Did they just invent pony quidditch?
6470338 Perhaps someday! But this was not an attempt to create Quidditch, or Calvinball, or anything like that. Just kids getting together and having fun with anything at hand.
Thundercloud: There's that word again!
I'm feeling a little better here. Thundercloud didn't just apologize this time, he also did the right thing instead, working towards his goal in a socially acceptable way. Good for him.
Also, I love the image of that barely organized chaos of a game. Nice bit there.
6471132 But will the lesson stick?
6470008 Definiately. It has been spoken way to often by too many different characters to be mere coincidence. It's almost as if they are trying to hammer home the 'pony' bit,