• Published 5th Dec 2011
  • 5,831 Views, 52 Comments

Apple Bloom's Family - HopeFox



Apple Bloom and her fellow Crusaders search for the truth of who her parents really are.

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Scootaloo's Story

Author's Note: At the end of Sweetie Belle's story, I explained that her story drew heavily on the works of Jane Austen for inspiration. In a similar vein, Scootaloo's story is inspired by the works of the Brontë sisters, particularly The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Wuthering Heights. As such, it contains themes and discussions of domestic violence. While there is no actual depiction of such violence, I would like to advise caution for those readers for whom this is a sensitive topic.


Scootaloo rode straight to the Crusaders' clubhouse when they arrived at Sweet Apple Acres, while Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stopped at the farmhouse to pick up supplies. Applejack was always happy to have Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo around to play with Apple Bloom, as it had broken her heart to see how isolated Apple Bloom had been until she formed the Crusaders. Rarity sometimes tried to slip Applejack a few bits for all the food Sweetie Belle ate, but Applejack would have none of it.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trotted happily up to the clubhouse, their saddlebags laden with apples and oat cakes. The late spring sun was still shining brightly in the western sky, so it was a great surprise to the two fillies that the interior of the clubhouse was as dark as twilight. The curtains were drawn to keep out the sun, and a single oil lamp on the table illuminated a black-cloaked and -hooded figure sitting in the armchair. As the two Crusaders edged warily into the clubhouse, the figure pushed back her hood to reveal a scowling Scootaloo, her orange coat gleaming eerily in the lamplight.

"Are you prepared for a tale of woe?" asked the pegasus filly, pitching her voice unusually low. The other two fillies sat back on their haunches, unsure of what to make of Scootaloo's dramatic introduction. "A tale of love and loss, toil and terror, blood and vengeance, life and death?"

Sweetie Belle nodded eagerly, while Apple Bloom looked sceptical. "Blood and vengeance, life and death? In Ponyville? Scootaloo, Twilight's been lettin' you read too many scary books."

Scootaloo pouted. "Do you want to hear my story or not? I found some old records in Applejack's office that I think are a clue about your mother." She drew a few sheets of paper out and laid them on the table. "The year of the blight, Big Macintosh hired a lot of ponies to clear the diseased trees out of the orchard, but there's one worker who stuck around a lot longer than the others, called Chalk Cliff. I think she might be your mother, Apple Bloom!"

Apple Bloom leaned forward intently, fixing Scootaloo with her full attention. "Okay, I'm all ears! Let's hear it!"


Big Macintosh and Granny Smith stood together and watched Applejack disappear down the road towards Manehattan, then sadly turned back to the gloomy halls of Sweet Apple Acres. The expanse of fields surrounding the farmhouse suddenly seemed silent and lifeless without Applejack's cheerful presence.

"Well, no time to waste moping, grandson. You'd best get to recruiting the ponies we're gonna need to get these trees cleared." Granny Smith's voice cut through Big Macintosh's reverie, bringing him back to the reality of their situation.

"Eeyup," muttered Big Macintosh, turning to survey the fields. He and two other ponies would have been able to clear the infected trees in only a couple of months, but the work needed to be done sooner than that, both to clear the land for fresh seedlings and to prevent the blight from spreading. If he could hire a dozen solid ponies, they could have the work done in just a fortnight.

The problem was, that meant he'd have to go to Ponyville to advertise the work. Big Macintosh was hardly fond of the crowds and noise of Ponyville, and much preferred the company of his family and the quiet of the farm. He spared a thought of sympathy for Applejack, on her way to the noisiest city in all Equestria. His sister had always been much better with crowds than he was, though.

Big Macintosh trudged back to the farmhouse and wrote out an advertisement for two weeks of work, instructing applicants to come to the farm to see if they were suited to the job. Ponyville was mostly inhabited by earth ponies, so he didn't expect he'd have trouble finding ponies for the work. Slipping the advertisement into his saddlebags, he set out for Ponyville at about noon, giving the apple trees another wistful look as he walked out of the farm and into town.

Ponyville was bustling when Big Macintosh reached the town square, with ponies rushing about on their daily business or meeting each other to socialise. The market was as lively as ever, and not for the first time, Big Macintosh was thankful that Applejack handled selling apples in the market. Big Macintosh knew he had a powerful voice, but he found it difficult to raise his voice about a low mumble when around strangers, just as he was reluctant to use his great strength outside the farm.

He walked up to the notice board on the edge of the town square and nailed his advertisement to the board with a few swift blows of a front hoof. He muttered to himself as he stepped away from the board. "Now all I have to do is hope that enough good, hard-working earth ponies see that and want the work."

"I'm an earth pony, and I work hard! Hi, Big Macintosh! What'cha got there?"

Big Macintosh jumped almost a foot in the air as a pony spoke to him right beside his ear. He twisted his neck around as he landed, turning to look at the pink mare who had spoken. "Oh, it's you, Miss Pinkie Pie," he murmured, afraid to raise his voice. "I, uh... I was just puttin' it out that there's some work to be done on the farm and we're looking to hire a few ponies for a little while."

"You want earth ponies with nothing better to do?" asked Pinkie Pie, hopping around to squint at the advertisement. "That's easy! Let me go round up some ponies! Don't go anywhere!" With that, she dashed off into the streets of Ponyville, leaving Big Macintosh a little dazed. He knew that his little sister was quite fond of Pinkie Pie and her parties, but the way she had described them sounded far too crowded for his tastes. He sidled off to one side of the notice board and waited for Pinkie Pie to return, trying to avoid making eye contact with passers-by.

After only a few minutes, Pinkie had returned, leading a group of five sturdy-looking earth ponies, three stallions and two mares. They all had the look of farmers or labourers about them, and Big Macintosh vaguely recognised a couple of them from the other farms around Ponyville.

"I'm back!" exclaimed Pinkie unnecessarily, and gestured to the ponies behind her. "This is Timber, and Haystack, and Hazel, and Oak-hoof and Digger," she said, pointing to each one in turn. "Timber and Haystack are from the clover farm up north, and the others are from all over the place. They were all here for the big agricultural fair last week, and they liked Ponyville so much that they decided to stick around for a while!"

Big Macintosh took a step back and looked the ponies up and down. "Well, y'all look like you can handle the work. I guess you'll... uh... follow me to Sweet Apple Acres and we can talk pay and then get started." He peered back at Pinkie Pie. "There was a fair last week?"

"Well, duh!" answered Pinkie Pie, prancing from side to side. "Only the biggest party for all the farming ponies from miles around! You know, Big Macintosh, you should really get out more. Okay, I gotta run, I think my oven is on fire!" The pink pony dashed away in a blur, leaving Big Macintosh uncomfortably at the centre of attention of his new workers.

Big Macintosh opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The other ponies looked at him expectantly. Finally, he simply nodded his head and started walking back to Sweet Apple Acres, trying to avoid looking at the ponies following him.


Big Macintosh strained at the ropes attached to his work harness, feeling the weight of the diseased apple tree on the other end. He shifted his hooves forward an inch at a time as the tree's roots popped out of the ground one by one, finally giving way in a tremendous shower of dirt. He dragged the fallen tree over to the pile with the others, where Haystack released it from his ropes.

Turning to start on the next tree, he saw Granny Smith waving a hoof to him. He weaved through the other ponies working in this field and trotted over to her. She scowled at him and pointed up towards the road to Ponyville.

"There's another pony up there who wants to work, unless I miss my guess," she admonished him. He looked where she was pointing, and could make out the shape of a large white pony lingering at the Sweet Apple Acres sign. "I had to go and greet the last four new ponies myself, and ain't you supposed to be runnin' the farm while yer sister's away?"

"Me do the hirin'?" Big Macintosh rumbled, chewing his lip. "But Ma always..."

"Your ma ain't here no more," Granny Smith interrupted him bluntly. "I'm too old to be runnin' around after workers, so until Applejack gets back, you're the face and the voice of this family. Now go on. Git up there. Be frien'ly. Smile! Or else!"

"Yes, Granny," mumbled Big Macintosh as he plodded up the slope to the farm entrance. As he approached the sign, he could see that the pony was a mare, with a dusty white coat and bright red mane. She was almost as tall as Big Macintosh himself, similarly muscled, and perhaps five years his senior. Following Granny's instructions, he gave the mare a polite smile, dipping his head to her.

"Afternoon, miss," he greeted her. "Would you be here about the tree-clearin' job?"

The mare took a step backwards as Big Macintosh approached her, but smiled back at him. "Hello. Yes, I am. I've just arrived in Ponyville and I'm looking for work. Are you Big Macintosh?"

The stallion nodded, and turned to walk back down the slope towards the fields. "That I am, miss. The trees are down here, and we need to get all the diseased ones out of the fields before we can start replantin'. So," he continued, doing his best to be friendly. "What's your name? Where are you from?"

The white mare trotted faster to keep up with Big Macintosh. "My name's Chalk. Just Chalk," she insisted in response to Big Macintosh's questioning look. "I'm from... well... from Hoofington! I worked there as a rock farmer, so hauling old trees should be no problem."

There are six Hoofingtons in Equestria, and that's just the ones I know where to find, thought Big Macintosh. What's she trying to hide? No business of mine, I suppose.

"Well, Miss Chalk, welcome to Sweet Apple Acres. I reckon there's about two weeks' of work to do here. The pay's not great, but we'll feed y'all as best we're able, and nopony puts out a spread like Granny Smith does."

Chalk looked relieved not to be answering any more questions, and looked down at the trees, sizing them up. "That sounds like a good deal to me. Although... as I said, I've only just arrived in Ponyville. By any chance, might I exchange some of my pay for a place to sleep? I don't need much, just somewhere out of the wind and rain."

Big Macintosh looked down at the fields, then back to Chalk. "If the barn's good enough for you, I won't charge you nothin' to sleep there. There's plenty of hay, and the roof don't leak, so I reckon it'll do you alright."

Chalk nodded gratefully. "Thank you very much, Mister Macintosh. I will start work immediately." Big Macintosh bowed his head to her and returned to his tree-felling. Once he had turned away, Chalk raised her right foreleg and coughed delicately into her fetlock, then trotted down the slope to join the team breaking the trees into wood for burning.


As the sun dipped below the horizon, Big Macintosh gave the workers their wages for the day, and let them go on their way. In the sky, he could see a team of pegasi dragging storm clouds over Ponyville and the surrounding farms – he had forgotten that there was a storm scheduled for that night. He made a quick trot for the farmhouse, ducking under the front porch just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Strong winds began to whistle through the cold granite arches of the farmhouse as he slammed the door closed against the elements.

Granny Smith had lit a fire in the hearth of the chilly sitting room, but the sound of wind and rain lashing against the shutters put a chill in Big Macintosh's bones that no fire could drive out. He started reviewing the farm's accounts at his desk near the hearth while his grandmother prepared the evening meal.

"I see that new white mare got on alright," commented Granny Smith as she brought a bowl of carrot and leek stew over to Big Macintosh. "Did you make her feel welcome, like I said?"

Big Macintosh lowered his muzzle to the bowl and took a long slurp of stew. "Eeyup. Even asked her her name and everythin'. She's a rock farmer from Hoofington, or at least so she says. She's new in town, so I'm lettin' her stay in the barn while she's workin' here."

Granny Smith turned from the stove in the kitchen, the serving ladle still wrapped around her fetlock. "Big Macintosh. Do you mean to tell me that that young mare is shiverin' away in that leaky old barn, with nothing but a pile of hay to keep her warm, while you're all cozy next to our fireplace, with your nose in a hot meal?"

Big Macintosh bowed his head, ashamed. "Sorry, Granny."

Granny Smith waved her ladle threateningly. "I ain't interested in 'sorry', grandson. I thought my colt raised his foals better than that. Now you go and bring that mare back here while I go set up Applejack's room for her."

"But Granny, it's half a mile to the barn, and then the same back, in this rain... sorry, Granny. Leavin' now, Granny."


Chalk huddled in the midst of a pile of hay in the barn, shivering. Her shaggy coat trapped enough body heat to keep out the worst of the chill, but the night was very cold, and the strong winds blew cold, moist draughts through the cracks in the walls. She wanted to sleep, but the howling of the wind kept her awake, as did the cough that only intensified with the cold and damp. Still, it was better than what she had left behind.

Suddenly, there came a pounding at the barn door. Chalk immediately shrank away from the door, then cautiously trotted closer. "Who is it?" she called fearfully.

"It's Big Macintosh!" came the reply, shouted over the deafening winds. "Can I come in?"

Chalk drew back the bolt fastening the barn door and hauled the door open, letting in a blast of wind along with the massive stallion. Big Macintosh was wearing a huge oilskin cloak, and a second one hung from his neck, along with a shuttered oil lantern. "Evenin, Miss Chalk. Were you expectin' somepony else?"

Chalk shook her head as she drove the door closed with her shoulder. "No... nopony at all."

Big Macintosh set the lantern down on a barrel and unwrapped the second cloak from his neck. "Granny says... that is, I figured that... I mean..." He shook his head and started again. "It's too cold for anypony to sleep all the way out here. If'n you... we've got some room in the farmhouse. Granny would be much obliged if you'd sleep there tonight."

Chalk looked from Big Macintosh to the oilskin cloak on the floor. "You'd do that, Mister Macintosh? Even though you and your family barely know me?"

"Well, sure we would. That's just Apple hospitality. It don't take much to be treated like family around here. I should never have put you up in this barn when there's plenty of room in the house, anyway. That ain't the Apple way. You ready to head on over there?"

Chalk had draped the cloak around her body and fastened the hood around her head. She nodded and started to draw the door open again. "Thank you, Mister Macintosh. You and your family are very generous."

Big Macintosh muttered something about her saving her thanks for Granny Smith instead of him, and then they were both galloping across the desolate, windswept moors separating the barn from the farmhouse, trying to make it to the safety of the house before the driving rain soaked them to the skin.


Scootaloo grinned excitedly at her friends as she finished her description of Big Macintosh and Chalk reaching the farmhouse and being treated to Granny Smith's tender hospitality. "So, what do you think so far?" she asked them, her dramatic gothic demeanour forgotten in her excitement over the story.

Sweetie Belle was leaning forward eagerly, clearly engrossed in Scootaloo's tale, but she pursed her lips at the question. "Scootaloo, you know the farmhouse is made of wood, right? Not granite? And the barn is about a hundred yards from the farmhouse. We were there, like, half an hour ago! I know you want your story to be scary, but Sweet Apple Acres is probably the least scary place in Equestria!"

Scootaloo twiddled her front hooves awkwardly. "Yeah, well... it's called dramatic licence! That means it's okay to make things up as long as it makes the story better."

The young unicorn shrugged and grinned. "I guess I used plenty of that myself. What did you think, Apple Bloom?"

Apple Bloom had been deep in thought while her friends argued. "I think Big Macintosh ain't as friendly in your story as he really is. He works hard and he don't talk much, but he don't mind goin' into Ponyville and spendin' time with ponies."

Scootaloo nodded. "I'm doing that on purpose. I think he might have been different when he was younger."

"Yeah, I guess he could have been." Apple Bloom nodded in agreement, then sat deep in thought for several moments longer.

"Do you think Big Macintosh is my father?" she asked finally.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo exchanged a glance. "Well... everypony kinda assumed he was your father the first time he met you at school," explained Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. An'... when I hear ponies talk about their fathers at school, that's just like how I talk about Big Macintosh. He might as well be my pa. I like this Chalk mare, though, if she's supposed to be my ma. Why couldn't she stay around, though? Did she have to leave?"

Scootaloo looked momentarily guilty, staring at her hooves. "Well, um... you'll have to wait for that part of the story."

"Get on with it, then!" exclaimed Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle in unison.