Chapter 4
When a rather large island came into view, Copperquick felt Buttermilk tense up beside him and he heard a gasp come from her. The skiff was slowing, which, in a strange turn of events, made the ride choppier. Esmeralda fussed a bit, kicked her legs around, and let out a fatigued yawn of protest at the unwanted jarring. Knowing that he would soon be overwhelmed, Copperquick took a moment to take everything in.
The island had quite a rise in the middle, with some steep places along the sides. A winding switchback trail could be seen, along with a dock. Atop the highest part of the island was a tall, sturdy looking house, and a small barn. Trees lined the shore, along with some kind of berry bushes, forming a network of roots that gave the island a means to hold onto its own foundation. A water wheel turned with the current of the river, but Copperquick did not know its purpose. Several windmills also turned, their purpose also unknown. Goats and cows grazed along the slopes. There was a wooden bridge that connected it to another island and on this island there were a collection of treehouses of the most amazing, most breathtaking design.
It was as if an apartment block had collided face-first with nature.
Everything was green and glorious and Copperquick found his spirits lifting. An airship went chugging by overhead, pooting out a minimal amount of soot from its backside. It descended and drifted closer to what appeared to be some kind of factory that was some distance away, an enormous, sprawling structure that swallowed up the entire island that served as its foundation. As the skiff continued ever-onwards, a sign for the factory came into view and it showed a vibrant pictogram of rice, but had no words.
“Looks like Moomy expanded the electrical grid,” Buttermilk said in a voice that was more than a little squeaky with emotion. “She taught herself electrical engineering because she was tired of lanterns and candles. Moomy is like that, and you’ll probably get a lecture at some point about how the Crown is not obligated to provide anything for you, like power or running water, and that you are more than capable of getting those things for yourself.”
Too stunned by everything he was seeing, Copperquick had no reply.
“It’s been a long time…” Buttermilk exhaled these words and one foreleg wrapped around Copperquick’s once more. She clung to him as the skiff neared the bobbing dock and the little mare began to sniffle. “I’ve missed this place more than I thought. My entire life was this island… this place… these trees… I had so many adventures here and I chased butterflies and bugs and at night when I was allowed to go out I’d chase moths and glow bugs and my Daddums would follow along after me and make sure that nothing tried to gobble me and the griffons would be playing their banjos and their drums and the night was filled with the sound of music and flapping wings and everything was perfect…”
Buttermilk only stopped because she ran out of wind and she made a sharp inhale.
There was a nervous laugh from Buttermilk, a strange sound, an out of place sound that was quite unlike her. Copperquick turned his head down to look at her and could see the worry on her face, her total lack of poise. This was not the mare he knew, no she seemed almost… foalish at the moment.
“Moomy and Daddums made it very, very clear that I was to never allow a colt to set hoof on this island… surely by now the rules have been relaxed a bit… heh… heh heh… hah… heh… I’m too old to be grounded, right?”
Just as Copperquick was about to reply, Buttermilk’s head jerked around to look at Ripple Rusher, and he heard her say in a muted whisper, “Maybe it was for the best.”
Whatever words were there abandoned him and Copperquick found himself looking at the three foals in their little pen, with the oldest staring back at him. The skiff bumped up against the dock with a thump of wood on wood and they came to a halt, though the craft bobbed up and down in the current.
“Well,” Ripple Rusher announced, “welcome home, Buttermilk Oddbody. Now hurry up and get moving before your mother sees me here and trouble starts. I’m not welcome here anymore.”
Copperquick heard Buttermilk sigh as he stood up and made ready to disembark. This was an emotional time for her and he didn’t know what to say or do to make her feel better. He gave himself a shake, causing the heavy bags he was burdened with to slap against his sides, and Esmeralda let go with a froggy belch that was really quite impressive, but couldn’t be appreciated given the circumstances.
“Go stand on the dock,” Buttermilk said to Copperquick, “and give me a moment to talk to my old friend Rushy… I’m going to see if there is anything I can do to help her.”
More nervous than a cat let lose in a room full of oldtimers in rocking chairs, Copperquick stepped off of the dock and onto solid earth. Right away, Esmeralda’s fussing ceased and she hung in her sling, quiet but squirming, a foal in sore need of a nap. The short and simple truth of the matter was, Copperquick was terrified of meeting Buttermilk’s parents, and he had no idea what was going to happen.
Buttermilk was hugging her friend, squeezing her, and he couldn’t hear anything that was being said between them. Birds trilled in the trees along the shoreline and the grass that grew on the slope swayed back and forth, to and fro in the light, salty breeze. No sign of a welcome—yet—and Copperquick was thankful that he had a moment to look around, to take everything in.
Tilting his head back, he looked up at the house. It appeared to be made from stained cedar and had a fine tin roof painted in a brilliant yellow-green. Each and every window was framed by heavy, sturdy shutters, which along with everything else, gave the home a sturdy, durable appearance.
The barn was red, because of course it was, and Copperquick knew why. Barns were painted with linseed oil to keep the wood from rotting and rust was mixed with the oil to poison fungus and moss. It was a simple, practical solution to an age old problem and as he stood there, staring, and thinking this now-useful bit of trivia, he wondered if his knowledge would endear him to Buttermilk’s parents.
While he stared, the skiff went skimming away and Buttermilk now hovered near him, looking around with wide, worried eyes, all while looking more than a little foalish. Her wings buzzed, but only just a little, to get the full mosquito buzz she needed a few cups of tea to get her wound up. She darted left, then right, and then returned to hovering near Copperquick’s head.
“Where’s Moomy?” Buttermilk asked, speaking more to herself than to Copperquick.
She took off, her hooves skimming the tops of the swaying grass, and paused to examine a cow, who stood chewing its cud on the corner of a switchback. Buttermilk introduced herself, said a few kind words, and patted the cow on the head. In response, the cow udderly ignored the gentle pegasus and stared at nothing in particular.
“Moomy!”
It was then that Copperquick saw her, the mountain that had birthed the tiny speck of a pegasus that he was so fond of. She stood on the crest of the slope, looking down, and even from this considerable distance Copperquick could see plain as day that he was looking at one of the largest earth ponies he had ever seen with his own two eyes.
Buttermilk started to go buzzing off, but halted, hung in the air with her wings flapping, and then flew in confused circles for a time before returning to be close to Copperquick while her mother traversed the hill to come down and greet them. Buttermilk placed her hoof upon Copperquick’s neck, then she put on her best smile and her bulging, rounded cheeks pushed up against the bottom of her chunky, square spectacles.
“Oi,” the big mare cried out, and to Copperquick’s ears, it was the sound of home. “What’s this, then?”
“Moomy!” Buttermilk cried out again, and she pressed her front hooves against her cheeks, squishing her face. “Moomy, you haven’t changed at all!”
The big mare skidded a bit on a steep section, hit the flat of the switchback path, and then resumed her descent with a steady trot. Bees went buzzing by, flitting about in the berry bushes and the flowers. Buttermilk’s mother was the spitting image of her daughter, but bigger, so much bigger. Broad-backed, with well-muscled, stocky legs, she was nothing at all as Copperquick had expected.
“Oi! My baby Beezy has come home!” The big mare picked up the pace and Copperquick was pretty certain that he could feel the ground trembling—not because Buttermilk’s mom was heavy—no—but because the ground was terrified of being disrespectful. “And baby Beezy Buzzy brought a friend.”
“Moomy!”
“Beezy!”
Buttermilk flew in a confused circle for a moment, started to go to her mother, paused, flew back to Copperquick, and then hovered, not knowing what to do. “Moomy… this is Copperquick—” Buttermilk made an odd squeak, covered her mouth, and tried again. “Moomy, this is Copper Quick. Mister Quick. And his daughter, Esmeralda Verde.”
Unable to contain herself, Buttermilk flew right at her mother and slammed right into the massive mare. There was a meaty smack, a terrific sound of impact, and Moomy didn’t budge an inch. Buttermilk began squeezing her mother’s neck as hard as she could, and Copperquick just stood there, awestruck, with his mouth hanging open.
“Copperquick, this is Moomy… I mean, this is Butter Fudge Oddbody, my Moomy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mister Quick.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Ma’am.”
At this, Moomy prised her daughter from her neck and came closer to inspect Copperquick, who now stood very, very still. Buttermilk’s mother was taller than he by a few heads, her withers were more than twice as wide, and she had muscles in her neck that were bigger than his legs.
“A runner,” the big mare said as she looked Copperquick up and down. “Not just any runner, one made for speed. Look at you”—she sucked in a deep breath when her eyes locked onto Esmeralda—“Oi! Look at you!” Not caring the slightest about personal space, Butter Fudge pressed her snoot against the foal hanging from around Copperquick’s neck and chuffed.
Esmeralda exploded with exhausted giggles and tried to squirm away, but it was of no use. Butter Fudge was as affectionate as she was big, and Copperquick found himself smiling as the big mare cooed and clucked her tongue. Buttermilk hovered just inches away, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she watched her mother’s affections with a wide smile plastered across her muzzle.
“This foal needs a nap.” This statement left no room for argument nor disagreement and Butter Fudge lifted her head up as she drew herself up to her full height. “I’d also like to know where this foal’s mother is, as I find it most peculiar that Mister Quick, polite as he is, is here with my daughter when he clearly has a wife that he should be tending to.”
“Uh, Moomy… about that…” Buttermilk’s smile went south like a flock of birds fleeing winter. Just as she was about to say more, her mother cut her off.
“Mister Quick, are you a widower?”
“Moomy, stop.” Buttermilk’s voice was hard now, flinty, and once again Copperquick found himself terrified of the smaller pegasus. “You will get the explanation that you are owed, but we’re tired, I need some tea, and there is quite a story here. I’m probably going to marry Copperquick… I followed your advice and fed him hot, buttery cheese toast and it worked, just like you said it would. Right now there is a whole heap of trouble and we’re trying to sort everything out and I swear on Princess Celestia’s merciful teats, if you don’t behave yourself, we’ll leave this place and our shadows will never darken your door ever again.”
There was now a strange smile upon Butter Fudge’s face, the look of a mare that was entirely too pleased with herself… and maybe… pride? It was hard to tell, but there was something about her face and the way she looked up at her daughter, who was now hovering with a significant height advantage. Something secretive, something smug, and the evidence was the raw cunning that could be seen in Butter Fudge’s eyes.
“Come on up to the house,” Butter Fudge said in an inviting tone, “and get settled in…”
Stats
Page generated in 0.043 seconds
Total duration
1,059 users online
2,167,408 hits today, 2,280,440 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.®
I don't like their seemingly backwards attitude, but they clearly aren't dumb by any means. I'm interested to see how this goes
When this is fully explained to Moomy I think the only thing keeping Cielo del Este in one piece is lots and lots of distance.
8477201
I get the odd feeling that their attitude is a test of character, and they expect others to stand up to their attitude.
That last line seems vaguely ominous.
8477201 I doubt even the distance will save her.
8477177
Keep in mind where they live: They probably don't have police - maybe a sheriff, and even that seems like a wild hope - and there's clearly no infrastructure that they didn't build themselves. Out in this backwater, the government isn't an organization; it's more of an idea. They might have some taxes they pay, and maybe they get a newspaper occasionally, but that's about it.
Mrs. Oddbody clearly believes that the Crown doesn't owe anyone anything because it's never given her anything, and yet she has everything that she needs, secured by herself or in partnership with others around her.
The crux of the issue, whatever arises and whenever it does, will not be attitude, but culture, which may actually create the larger conflict, because attitude is very easy to navigate while culture is not. I'm interested to see exactly how Copper will navigate these most treacherous of waters.
Spending a week with hardcore Libertarians. This will go over so well with a single father with no job *Rolls eyes*
Hmm, not libertarians in the sense it is used in US politics. Nowhere in the US would you be allowed to build a private electric grid.
I suspect a better real world example would be a village in Africa or India; a place where the government holds little power and less presence, and if you wanted a road built or clean water or electric power you had to do it yourself.
I also suspect that Butter Fudge more or less IS the local chief (local government). Copperquick is in is much more dangerous and unpleasant situation than just having to tolerate the parents. He's quite literally in 'they'll never find the body' territory and dating the village chief's daughter.
Time to settle in...
That is my favorite line of this chapter.
It's like seeing my relatives in Idaho, this should be interesting.
Hmmmm....this first encounter is not going as expected, but certainly rather intriguing. You certainly know how to keep your audience in suspense Kudzu, giving us just enough information to form questions, but not enough to get any real answers.
Though the mom is different than I imagined her, so far I find her most endearing!
The expresion “Mother knows best” comes to mind for some reason
...or wheelchairs!