Perfect for a Price
Cranky Doodle Donkey is frozen, his eyes glued upon the page held out before him by the odd dapper creature. The wind rustles the bent and damaged sections of grass that mark the only imperfection in his lush yard of green. He has few options, the suns position in the sky is not stagnant after all. Time will not wait for him to try to salvage the unsalvageable damage, the destruction wrought to the very thing he had put so much of his time and tender care into.
Donkeys do not have the magic of earth ponies, they cannot will a garden or lawn to grow as they wish it to. They cannot strengthen their fields with the legendary green hoof, or heal damage done in minutes if need be. No, Cranky like all donkeys must do things without magic. His lawn was brought into being by years of constant care. Hours of mulching, fertilizing, feeding, pruning, mowing, and traditional non magical nurturing went into his beloved grassy yard.
He even made sure to only plant the grass seeds at the perfect time of year, using only varieties of grass that would thrive in the local climate. Cranky spent hours searching his great grassy expanse for blades growing wild, walking softly on his tip hooves so as to not damage his pride and joy. Hours spent researching the newest non magical plant care techniques, hours more perfecting them. He had even used some of his grandfathers old tricks and secrets from the start to ensure his lawn would be exactly what he desired. Almost half a decade of nonstop work year round had kept his lawn the picture of perfection.
It had all been destroyed in a single moment, the great fruit of his efforts gone. Only a miracle could possibly bring his green back to what it was. Cranky did not believe in miracles. Because he knows nothing is free, yet despite all that he can’t look away from the page before him.
The creature before him, strange as it appears, is offering him what he had wished for from the moment that colt had bent the first blade of grass with his fall. It is tempting to merely accept its offer without questioning it. However Cranky Doodle Donkey is not one to merely sign on a dotted line without first learning the nature and price of a deal. After all, donkeys are not like those oh too trusting ponies.
Shaking his head, Cranky moves his eyes with great effort off the page presented to him. He stares at the creature, looking directly into it’s odd slanted eyes. Just like his father had taught him to do when negotiating anything from a home to the price of hay.
Trying to sound as professional as possible, Cranky makes sure his tone conveys his feelings quite clearly as he speaks in his trademark grumble.
“I do not recall asking you for a miracle you odd fellow. Despite your dapper appearance, your use of the word miracle shows you think me daft. I may be old, but I am no fool. Miracles, if they even exist, are never free. So what is it you wish me to pay for your services? I will not stand for games, I am a Donkey, not some silly pony who laughs all day for no reason at all.”
The creature widens its eyes, lifting up a five digit hand to adjust its bowler hat before it grins even wider. It’s teeth are even whiter than Cranky had thought before, contrasting with its green mane color in such a way that they seem to glow. A light rumbling noise echoes in the air, which Cranky quickly realizes is the creature chuckling. Bringing its hand down from the hat, it adjusts its vest before responding. It’s voice as slick as ever, though far friendlier than before.
“Ahh what a good lad ye are, ah aven’t met one so fine o’ mind an sharp o’ wit in ages. Oh ah do apologize fer offendin ye if’n ah did. Is just a’times ah can’t quie help meself. Tis naht of’n me offers o’ miracles be questioned, ‘tis quite refreshin, tha’t it is.”
The grin grows serious, yet the creature’s eyes sparkle despite its change in demeanor. Unlike Cranky, it seems to be a genuinely jovial sort, which shows in its voice as it speaks.
“As fer yer ask’n bout a miracle, that ye did indeed do. Ah came a’runnin whe’n ah eard ye on te wind is’elf, hoping ta help ye in yer time o’need. Tis naht of’n ah he’r such a plea, ‘twas liken yer soul i’self were begg’in fer aid.”
The creature takes a step forward, still holding the book out turned to the same page as before. With its free hand it points to the print under the page header.
“Now Cranky me boy, if’n ye read this here part o’ tha missive ye’ll see tha ye were quite right. Miracles ‘ave a price, tha’ they do. Mine be no differ’n. Tha price just be moor er..flexible ye migh’t say.”
The page is in Cranky’s field of view again, the ornate well written Equestrian words beckoning him to read them and take what they say in. The creature waves its hand as if to encourage him to read the page. Not too insistently though, for it is too jovial and dapper to be so forward.
“Ye can read tha words Cranky my lad, tis just the terms n’ price o’ me services. Ah won’ be one ta insult ye with’n no word games. Tis a straight as can be contract, read it’n decide if’n it be worth yer time. But do naht dally my boy, time won’ stop for thee to read it.”
Cranky Doodle Donkey looks over the words on the page displayed to him. Reading under his breathe, the more he takes in the more intrigued and interested the old Donkey becomes.
The terms are quite good, the contract is indefinite in length and can be cancelled at any time so long as a fee of his choice is paid. The fee is agreed upon at the time of cancellation of services. Other than that the price is not paid in bits, for which he is most thankful. Instead the services are rendered for a hearth, home, and regular offering of food. Something odd to see in this day and age, but it makes sense in a way. Mention is made of a bond between the service provider and contractee, but the details make no sense to Cranky since they are in that odd dialect the creature speaks in.
In return his lawn will be cared for, and all damages or destruction upon it repaired immediately. He is guaranteed a lawn and yard worthy of a god, as well as advice and celebrations for each quarter year he keeps the services. Near the end of the page, right above the dotted line, is a sentence that catches his attention.
It reads, for the agreed upon price the field shall be kept a perfect green.
Cranky clears his throat and once more looks the creature in the eye.
“These terms are quite agreeable, though I do wonder why you do not ask for bits for your services.”
The creature grins in glee, sensing the intense interest coming from Cranky concerning its offer of services.
“Cranky me boy, wher’n ah come fro’m bits be not worth a ting, it make‘n more sense ta ask fer a home’n hearth an o’ offering o’food ta rejuvenate meself than worthless coin ah can’not much use back home.”
The answer makes perfect sense to Cranky Doodle Donkey, after all if the creature’s home does not use bits or have a trade agreement with Equestria, then it’s terms make far more sense. The sun has not stopped its march over the sky, and with time running even shorter the old donkey makes up his mind on the matter. Though not without one sideways glance at his once perfectly uniform green lawn, and envisioning it as he always dreamed it to be.
With a small smile now on his face, he states his decision on the matter.
“I suppose your terms are most agreeable, and I do have space in my garden shed where you might live and rest. You may take whatever you wish to eat so long as it doesn’t cost my Matilda and I none too much. So long as you keep to your end of the bargain and contract, you may stay as long as you like.”
Lifting his left hoof up, Cranky looks for a pen but finds none in sight.
“How am I to sign without a pen?” He asks the creature whose services he shall soon reap the rewards of.
The creature reaches over to the spine of the book and pulls out the green sprig, that Cranky now sees is an ornate old style reed pen. Holding it outwards for Cranky, it comments on the antique as Cranky takes it in his left hoof.
“Tha sprig be an old’n, might take a shake’r two ta loos’n tha ink. I’might give ye a splinter if’n you shake too hard. It’ll do tho fer a signature.”
Cranky shakes the pen a bit to loosen the ink, and like he was warned the sprig shaped pen pokes his soft fetlock. Wincing away the pain, Cranky pays no heed to the fact that there is no blood in the wound; or the tiny sliver of green and red wood now embedded where a scab will later form. The pen begins to drip ink, an unusual brownish color, but it being an old pen he pays it little attention as the donkey writes his name in clear crisp letters upon the dotted line of the page.
Cranky Doodle Donkey
When he is finished, he returns the pen to the dapper creature, who promptly blows on the page to set the ink before closing the book and returning the pen to its spot on the spine. With a flourish, it then puts the book back wherever it came from within its dress suit.
A grin still set upon its face, the creature holds out its left hand. Cranky gets the cue, and grasps it with his left hoof. The creature smiles, eyes glittering in the noonday sun.
“Now tha te bond be signed an’ bound, ah can tell ye me name so to make‘n things easy’r on ye. My friends, few they be, call me Lugh. Me full name be P.B Lugh, and I ahm now at yer service Cranky. Ye can rest easy know’n that all will be well’n ten minutes time.”
Cranky raises an eyebrow, but knowing the contract can be annulled at any time he is willing to let the creature called Lugh try to repair his lawn in such a short time. The two shake each other’s forelimbs, before letting go. Lugh waves Cranky off, indicating for him to be left to work as he surveys the grass damaged by Featherweight.
Cranky turns and walks up the pathway towards his home, hope in his heart that he might yet win that 4th Ponyville’s Most Perfect Lawn award and retain his title. Looking back a few times to ensure Lugh is still there, he spots his new yard aid pull a pouch out of his vest. Thinking it some sort of secret fertilizer and nothing more, Cranky leaves the creature to its repair of the yard and enters his home to rest before the Contest Judges arrive in twenty minutes.
Something tells him this is the beginning of something wonderful, he can feel it in his left fetlock.
One month later
Cranky and his beloved Matilda stand upon the Legendary Blue Hills of Western Equestria. The wind caressing them both as they stare in wonder at the glory before them. No pictures or pamphlets do the Hills justice, and for the past week the two married donkeys have basked in the Blue Hills legendary majesty and wonder. A vacation that was so long overdue has been well spent, from picnics on the hills to cataloguing and identifying different plants that abound.
Cranky even tried his hoof at painting much to the amusement of his wife, who as it turns out was far more talented at the art. Indeed this trip is one the two will never forget, though it is now at an end. The happy couple must return home in the morning, taking the long train back to Ponyville. But for now, they stand side by side upon the tallest of the hills, and gaze upon the full landscape of Western Equestria from it’s peak.
Matilda leans her head against her husband Cranky’s neck and lovingly whispers into his ear, “Thank you Cranky, this is a dream come true.”
The crotchety and ornery old Donkey smiles, reaching out his right hoof to hold his beloved wife closer to him. “Matilda, if this is a dream then I hope it is one of prosperity and fortune for the both of us. I love you my angelic flower.”
Matilda just chuckles and grabs hold of her husband with her left hoof with a sigh.
“Cranky, you can be such an incorrigible romantic at times.”
Cranky Doodle Dandy grins at his wife, “Well would you rather I be an ornery old codger my lovely angel?”
Matilda lightly and playfully shoves her husband, a playful look in her eye as the two settle down and sit side by side atop the grand hill.
“Hmmm,” she muses, “I think I like my Cranky to be a romantic once in awhile.”
Her husband just smiles, and hugs her close as the two watch the sun set over Equestria in one of the most romantic places possible.
When twilight begins to fall the two make their way down to the private cabin they rented for the vacation, tired from the long week of surprises and wonder. Both yearn to return home in the morning, to tend to their respective gardens and fields. Matilda frets as she lays down to sleep that her garden will be in tatters due to her being gone so long. However deep down she does not mind that much, after all she finally got to see the Blue Hills she has dreamed about since she was a small filly.
Cranky reassures her that her garden will be fine. After all he has the best creature for the job watching over their home, hearth, and gardens. With her worries calmed, Matilda falls into the land of dreams followed closely by Cranky. When morning comes however, they waste no time getting to the train station with their luggage. To their surprise, they are the 500th senior couple of the season to ride that particular train; and are given an upgrade to first class.
It seems like a dream to the two of them, but it is very much real. As of late Cranky and Matilda’s fortune and luck have gone extremely well. It started with Cranky winning the Ponyville Annual Lawn Competition last month for the 4th year in a row. This year for some reason the contest had far more prizes than usual. Besides the award that is proudly displayed on the wall at home, the bag of bits was triple the usual amount. The lawn care supplies included more than double the options from last year. Finally, for winning four years in a row Cranky was allowed to choose a vacation anywhere in the world and the competition would pay for it in full.
He had chosen to surprise Matilda with this week long vacation to The Blue Hills of Western Equestria. One of the most exclusive vacation spots, a dream come true for both of them. However their fortunes did not stop there, Cranky’s lawn was now the envy of all. A perfect uniform green that none could help but stare at in awe, Matilda could of sworn she saw the air shimmer over the blades of grass one morning like some sort of mythical field of old. But it was just dew, or so she told herself. Most of the changes in their fortune were little things, like her fruit trees bearing fruit early that tasted more heavenly than ambrosia. Weeds seemed to avoid both Cranky’s lawn and her garden, same for pests in general. However these could be chocked up to a string of good luck, same for the first class seats they had been given on the ride home.
After all, a strong of good fortune happens to everyone once in awhile.
Cranky and Matilda returned around noon to their home, the lawn in perfect order with not a blade out of place. Kissing his wife, Cranky walks Matilda towards her garden path and bows to her like a knight causing her to giggle. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Matilda goes up the path and opens the gate that leads to her garden lot. Waving to her surprisingly friendly husband, she goes in to check on how her plants have fared in her absence.
Cranky Doodle Donkey gets up onto his four hooves and stretches. It’s somewhat odd, lately he has felt more spry than usual. Almost as if years have been taken off his life, or perhaps he is just going senile in his old age. Turning towards his home, the old codger spots a paper shoved into the mail slot. Grabbing it, yanking it free from where it had been hastily shoved, he trots into his home and closes the door.
Sitting down upon his favorite chair, a bright multi green plaid piece, Cranky unrolls the sheet of paper and freezes. The sheet had been in the sun for at least half a day, but that is not what catches his attention. He had thought it would be a community event planner, or maybe some silly sales pamphlet. It is neither.
What he holds in his hooves is a missing pony flier.
It is written up by hoof, with a photo of a young earth pony colt in black and white delicately glued onto the center of the page. The colt is quite plump, with chubby cheeks and a messy brown mane and tail according to the description. He has a medium grey coat, with blue eyes and a cutie mark of a knife and fork side by side. The description describes him as having last been seen two weeks ago, playing in the streets of Ponyville with friends. The colt’s name is Truffle Shuffle, and Cranky recognizes him.
He is one of the three who almost cost Cranky the lawn competition with their antics. The old donkey snorts, folding the missing flier in half and stuffing it into a book to use as a place marker.
“The young rascal probably is off at a friends house, giggling at the panic he is causing by his absence.” Cranky grumbles as he gets up and moves towards the backdoor.
Opening it with a “creak” he walks onto the rear porch and smiles, the sight of his perfect green lawn brings joy to him in a way only his wife surpasses. The knowledge that his lawn assistant Lugh has obviously cared for it so well in his absence makes his smile grow wider.
“Ye be smiling in glee at me aid to yer handiwork again Cranky my boy.” A slick deep voice comments from the donkeys left side.
Turning his head, Cranky spots P.B Lugh standing in the grass without causing it to bend or dent at all. Almost as if he is balancing on the very tips of the blades. It’s quite curious how he can do that, standing on the grass and not causing it to bend or break. But the old donkey decided shortly after first seeing the feat that it was due to some innate magic the creature had.
Grumbling, he replies to Lugh’s comment.
“It is a fine lawn fit for a god, just like you promised Lugh. Even if I built the foundation, you and whatever it is you do turned it into what it is today. It’s a work of beauty.”
Lugh nods, his bowlers hat staying firmly upon his head.
“True enough, tha blades be well fed by the offerings and food that fertilize an feed em. Tho t’may be a day o’ two more yet b’fore tha colors match again.”
Cranky gazes across the yard to see what Lugh meant by the colors being off. Sure enough, over by the fence line is a small square of grass that is slightly darker than the rest. No larger than a small foal, it does not stand out too much with the edges already beginning to match the rest of the lawn in color. It’s the second one since Lugh moved in, he never thought to ask what caused the colors to be off for some reason. Having it pointed out to him by the dapper fellow, his curiosity is piqued.
“Lugh, might I ask you something?”, Cranky grumbles in a way reserved for those he might call friend.
The creature look at him with his odd slanted eyes and responds in kind.
“Aye, Ye may ask what Ye will Cranky. Is jus’t us two ere for th’ moment.”
Cranky grins, the creature known as Lugh has become far friendlier over the past month. It not only has done what it promised and cared for his beloved green, but has also begun to play the part of a sort of friend towards him. In time the old donkey feels that the creature might become an actual friend of some sort, despite his quirks. If it hasn’t already.
“Well Lugh, I’m just curious as to why the grass in that square is a different shade rim the rest. Do you know why?”
Lugh grins, his deep chuckle that Cranky has learned indicates he is amused for some reason echoing over the yard proper. With a sigh he glances at Cranky, his eyes matching his grinning mouth as he responds.
“Tha be due t’ tha fertilizer an feed Cranky my boy. It has t’ be set just so, lest i’not work right n’proper. Tis o’ little importance lad, heed it no mind.”
Cranky, the old yet now feeling quite spry donkey nods; satisfied with the answer he has been given. About to leave, he suddenly has an idea to pose to his live in garden assistant. After all, though he is at home quite often he can’t be here all the time. And if he had not grabbed that flier earlier, his poor Matilda might have instead. The sight of it would have sent her into a fit of worry, and Cranky hated to see his wife worried in any way.
Glancing to the left, he sees that Lugh has turned and is staring right at him with those eyes of his. Almost as if he is anticipating or waiting for something, his toothy grin on his face as usual. Though for some reason it seems ever so slightly unnerving.
“Lugh,” Cranky pauses before saying anything more. He realizes that he has forgotten something important he should have done earlier. A basic form of courtesy that no matter how irate he is should always be followed.
With a deep breath Cranky says, “thank you for watching over Matilda’s garden as well as my own for the past week Lugh. It was good of you to do so until we got back, though I’m sure she can handle it on her own for now; I thank you.”
Lugh’s expression shifts as quick as lightning from that unnerving grin to his usual jovial one.
“Oh what a fine lad ye are, rememberin tha proper courtesy due t’ one who h’as helped ye out in’a bind. Tis always good t’ give thanks where it be due Cranky.” The creature pauses for a moment, studying his contractee for a moment or two before asking, “Though, Ye have more on yer mind. Speak up Cranky me boy, what be so important tha’ ye hesitate to speak o’ it?”
Cranky gazes upon his lawn, so well tended by Lugh that it has seemingly stopped having any problems at all. No weeds, no pests, not a blade out of place or a patch too tall. Outside of the fertilizer square that will fade in a day or two, it looks perfect; the green lush meadow of his dreams made real within his own yard.
Pondering on how best to ask the creature for this favor, Cranky decides to just be out with it.
“When I got home today, there was a missing flier in the mail slot concerning a local colt.”
As he begins to speak, unbeknownst to him, Lugh’s left eye is focusing upon the discolored green square of grass by the fence.
“Now I recognized the colt as one of the three who brought destruction upon my lawn on the day we first met Lugh. The little foal is probably just hiding out somewhere to cause trouble as part of a prank.” Cranky snorts the last word out in distaste.
Lugh raises his right eyebrow at the donkey, intrigued by what he is hearing as Cranky continues.
“That little plump grey earth pony colt was with a lavender pink unicorn filly and a rather small and thin tannish yellow Pegasus colt they called Feather. The reason I am certain he is hiding somewhere is because that rascal is the one who kicked that damned projectile onto my lawn. He then sent his Pegasus friend in to get it, so in the end he was the cause of all the damage done to my precious green!” Cranky emphasizes the last word with a stomp of his left hoof upon the brick porch.
A resounding “kkkkttttkkkrack” sound akin to a tree snapping echoes about from the force of the old donkeys hoof hitting the porch.
Lugh heaves a sigh, one that brings to mind the subtle sounds of an ancient tree’s branches shifting in the wind. “Wha d’ ye wish me t’ do Cranky me boy?” The creature asks the old donkey.
Cranky, his anger calmed for now; responds in a soft for him grumbling way.
“I want you to make sure that any fliers about missing colts, fillies, or ponies left in my yard or home; are folded and placed within the blue book on the living room table. The one with the lawnmower and the make griffin on the front. I wish you to do this for me so that my beloved Matilda might be spared having to see them.”
Lugh contemplates the request for a moment, closing its eyes and smiling serenely with a nod. “Tha’ ah can do Cranky. Yer beloved wife won’ have t’ worry bout tha missin’ so long as ah call yonder shed hearth and home. Ah swear ah’ll keep th’ sorrow a’way from her my boy.”
Cranky releases a grateful sigh and looks at Lugh with a face that seems to shine in gratitude. “Thank you Lugh, you are...a real friend” the old donkey smiles at the last word as it leaves his muzzle.
Lugh grins wider than he has since that first day. That impossible grin, with his long beard seeming to curl ever so slightly at the tips.
“Ah Cranky, it be a right honor to hear ye say those words t’ me and mean it so. Indeed, a friend o’ me and me kin ye be. Now....”
The creature points his hand at the door behind the old donkey that was never fully closed. His voice echoes with a combination of seriousness and mirth,
“Ye best be gettin’ inside a’fore yer wife come in tha front door. Friends we may be, bu’ ah will naht be able t’ help Ye if’n yer beloved decide to skin ye fer supper.”
Cranky chuckles, turning and heading back into the house before his Matilda gets home. Lugh always has such a dark sense of humor, but he means well. Today Cranky has realized that he considers that creature a friend, even though he is only here due to the contract made a month ago. Glancing back, he smiles and waves his left hoof at his miracle working friend.
Lugh grins, and waves back with his left hand; an odd mark like a thorn visible in the center of his palm.
Satisfied, Cranky closes the door and makes his way to the front to assist his wife with her no doubt bountiful harvest from the garden. Despite his itching left fetlock, he still has a good feeling about how things are going. Cranky Doodle Dandy has long since accepted in his mind that the price for Lugh’s services is merely a home, food, and a hearth. Not once has he asked if there might be another form of payment, the thought has simply never occurred to him.
While it’s contractee aids his wife inside the home, the being who goes by the name Lugh stares intently at the off color green patch by the boundary of the lawn. Moving it’s lower limbs, the creature seems to blink from where it was standing to the edge of the patch of grass within seconds. While Cranky had been speaking, Lugh had spotted a problem with the fertilized ground. Leaning over, its body causes not a sign that anything is standing on that spot of grass at all. Lugh reaches his hand down to a single spot on the boundary of the normal colored grass and the darker square.
Gently, it grabs hold of the edge of what looks to be a lavender pink colored stone shaped like the front half of a hoof with three fingers. Carefully, Lugh pushes the hoof shaped stone into the grass coated ground with a light “squicrrackk” . The dirt swallowing it up seamlessly as new shoots of dark grass sprout from the spot where it had been visible. Within seconds there is no sign such a thing had ever been there. Dusting off its hands, Lugh looks down at the dark green patch of grass.
A dark, rather sinister smile slowly grows upon its face as its eyes take on a somewhat malicious gleam. Its off color eyes seem to shine as the sun moves towards the horizon, Lugh seems in that moment to be something otherworldly and dangerous. A very far cry from the creature Cranky knows as his friend.
In an oily predatory voice that would cause the most stoic guard to fall onto the ground in fear, its speaks to that off color grass square.
“No need t’ try to be up little one.”
Lugh’s teeth in the twilight seem to be sharper, its body larger, and its tail follows suit by looking longer and more lethal. In a single movement, Lugh quickly crouches before seeming to disappear into the twilight as it transitions into proper night.
“Whoooshwhoomp”
The sound of gale force wind echoes through the town of Ponyville, the third one heard in as many weeks. The sound is oddly never accompanied by a real wind of any sort. It had become a local mystery as a result.
However within the Doodle Donkey home, or anywhere within its fence line boundary; there is no indication of the sound being heard.
Almost as of something, or someone, is keeping the sound itself out.
Stats
Page generated in 0.016 seconds
Total duration
958 users online
1,273,260 hits today, 1,872,792 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®