CiderCon Chronicles

by SSCiderConOfficial

Chapter 11: Brunch

CiderCon Chronicles

Chapter 11: Brunch

"I'd rather dig a ditch than go to brunch with ponies I don't know." -
Wallflower, Author

The dawn came earlier than any of them would have liked. They all, unbeknownst to the others, lay in bed and contemplated what the day meant for them.

For P'tach, today was the moment of truth. Today could end with him being accepted by the townspeople as one of them. Today could also end with him on the run again, or worse.

For Bramley, today was a job. He always helped out at his mom's functions, and this wouldn't be any different. He also knew that today he could lose the changeling that was quickly becoming his best friend. He tried to put thoughts like that out of his mind and focus on the practicalities of his mom hosting a brunch, but he had still planned how he could best help the changeling get away if the need arose.

For Warm Welcome, days like today were what she did best. Like Bramley, she had put some thought into what she could do to help the changeling if things went south, but knew, in her heart of hearts, that it wouldn't come to that. She excelled at hosting events that made people forget everything else in the world outside and live in the moment. Her warmth and hospitality were disarming,Her cooking was entrancing. To have a brunch so marvelous that ponies didn't see a changeling as a threat would be the fruition of everything her Cutie Mark empowered her to do.

She had it all planned out : As the guests arrived, she'd serve some hors d'oeuvres and small cider ( a weak hard cider ), circulate, and turn on the charm. Once all the guests arrived, they'd uncover the buffet tables, let them fix their plates, and see to getting them seated. Once everyone was full and content, she'd tell them the story about finding P'tach, and bring him out.

If it all went well, the townsfolk's natural neighborliness would be at its peak, and they'd view him as just another (albeit uncommon) neighbor.

If it didn't, well, she didn't want to dwell on that.

Warm Welcome rolled out of bed first, the "THUD" of her hooves hitting the floorboards carried to the other rooms, and Bramley and P'tach followed close behind.

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Warm Welcome surveyed the back yard. Bramley had worked all morning to set up furniture and decorate while Warm Welcome cooked and prepared. She had been insistent that P'tach stayed upstairs and out of sight while it was daylight. She knew that the changeling's feelings were stung, but knew that it was safer if he kept out of sight until a proper introduction could be made.

Bramley trotted up to her, and asked "Well? Whatcha think? Did I do all right? I mean, I know that th' tables and chairs and such are where they need to be, but I wasn't sure about the decorations and all."

She beamed down at him. "Son, ya' did just fine. This here looks just about perfect. "She put her hoof around his shoulders, drew him close, and kissed the top of his head.

Bramley looked up into his mom's eyes, and said "I love you, mama. Not many folks woulda' done everything that you done for him." He inclined his head towards the upstairs window.

She chuckled. "Land sakes, son. Don't forget that it was you that found him, you that fought to keep him alive. You're a pretty amazin' kid." Bramley blushed, and smiled a lopsided grin.

She sighed. "I just hope that everypony else shows how amazin' they can be today."

"Well," she said, tousling his hair, "I reckon we'd best get upstairs so we can wash up and go over the plan again. The guests'll start a' comin' soon."

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The changeling sat beneath his room's open window, and watched as the guests arrived. Bramley had rummaged through his toys earlier, and produced a thing that looked like a tube with a box on one end, and a triangle on the other. "Its called a periscope!" He had said and proceeded to show P'tach how he could use it to look out the window without being seen.

The first to arrive was Constable Even-hoof. He was a tall, gangly looking dark grey stallion with an indigo tail, round glasses and a bowler hat perched atop a matching indigo mane. Pinned to his vest was a shield shaped silver badge that marked him as an officer of the law. He seemed to smile easily. There was an air of confidence around him that never once meandered into arrogance. He was calm, self assured, and amiable.

Not long after came a quiet, middle aged mare with a butter colored coat and a predominantly light brown mane and tail with butterscotch streaks. She wore a beautiful, but simple gingham dress and matching bonnet. This was the seamstress, Twice Turned.

In harsh contrast to the seamstress, came the blacksmith, Tough Temper. He was a barrel chested, brick red stallion. His mane and tail were a mix of oranges, reds, greys, and black. The overall effect conjured images of a bed of coals. In spite of his imposing appearance, his eyes flashed with humor. He was a wall of good humor, and brotherhood. His personality was so jovial, so ebullient, that he seemed to take up twice as much room as he actually did.

Next to appear were the merchant husband and wife duo of Fair Trade and Good Measure. Fair Trade was a mint green stallion with an ice blue mane and tail. His wife, Good Measure, was an orange mare with a brown and white streaked tail. Both wore simple, well made outfits. They were clothes that spoke of the fact that they had money, but also would work as hard as they did.

Then came the schoolteacher Miss Slate who, true to her name, was a slight, slate grey mare with a mane and tail white with age. She wore horn-rimmed glasses with a chain connecting the two earpieces so she was less likely to misplace them.

Plowshare ambled in next. He was a medium brown stallion with a faded black tail. His frame, though diminished with age, was strong and sturdy. Lean and spare, it was a body forged by a life of hard work in the fields. He wore a "farmer's tuxedo": a new plaid shirt with new denim overalls.

Close behind came their other neighbor, Green Gardens. She was a light brown, elderly mare with a mane and tail that had gone steel grey with age.

Finally, rushing in with profuse apologies and the explanation that there had been an emergency to which he had to attend, came Doc Gladstone. The Doc was an odd looking stallion with a green coat the color of pickles, and a mane and tail the color of coffee. Wiry and lithe, Doc had been the doctor in these parts for as long as anyone could remember. In spite of that, Doc Gladstone still had the youthfully exuberant air of a colt Bramley's age. He delighted in simple things, and didn't much care what other ponies thought of him. He was odd, but, eccentricities notwithstanding, was as competent a physician as you could hope to have.

Warm Welcome let folks "talk a spell", catch up with each other, and have a few hors d'oeuvres while she and Bramley took the covers off the serving tables.

Everything was going perfectly so far. Folks were enjoying the food, reveling in the perfection of the weather, and delighting in one another's company.

When everything was ready, Warm Welcome raised her voice enough to be heard over the general din of the conversations and said "I sure would like to thank y'all for coming out today. I don't get to visit with y'all near as much as I'd like to." She glanced around to make sure everyone had a beverage before she continued.

She lifted her mug. "To Neighbors!" She said.

"To Neighbors!" came the reply.

Then she reached up, pulled the rope to clang the "dinner bell", and announced (to a chorus of whoops and hollers) "Let's Eat!"

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