My Big Fat Griffon Wedding

by LunaJack

A Wee Problem

“Tea, madam.”

“Hmmm?” Guinevere glanced up from the book she was reading to see the butler laying a loaded tray on a nearby table. “It’s a little late for tea, isn’t it?" she asked. "It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Yes, madam,” Gordon nodded as he poured a cup and handed it to his mistress. The griffoness breathed in the scent of the hot tea.

“Chamomile! How thoughtful.”

Gordon bowed. “I thought you might be needing it about now,” he murmured glancing up at the balcony.

“GREAT GROVER UP A GUMTREE!” Gidget's shriek ripped through the quiet.

“Miss Gidget," a deeper, nasal voice pleaded. "Please…”

“This is so stupid! Why should I have to learn the old Changeling language?”

“Well, your Father is the ambassador to the Changeling Kingdom. He thought it would make a good impression—”

“HOW? IT'S PRACTICALLY A DEAD LANGUAGE! THEY ALL SPEAK EQUESTRIAN NOW!”

“That is beside the point, young lady! You should show proper respect—"

“OH, YEAH? WELL, CHIRP-CHIRP-WHIR-WHIR-CLICK!”

“NOW SEE HERE! THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR!”

Guinevere sighed. “Thank you, Gordon.”

The blue-feathered butler bowed. The griffoness sipped the tea and closed her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. Chamomile sweetened with honey and just a hint of lemon. Just as she liked it.

“THAT IS IT! LANGUAGE LESSONS ARE OVER FOR THE DAY!” A dark, heavy-set griffon wearing a pair of thick pince-nez on his broad beak, landed on the marble floor near Guinevere. “Perhaps by tomorrow the little Harpy will have calmed down! Good day, Madam!”

“Good day,” Guinevere sighed as the griffon stomped away. She turned her attention to the upper floor. “GIDGET!”

The little griffoness landed heavily next to her mother’s chair. Her feathers ruffled and her tail lashed like an agitated cat.

“What did I tell you about showing respect to your tutors? You’re lucky your little tantrum didn’t run him off permanently!

“I certainly wouldn’t have minded,” Gidget muttered petulantly.

“What’s all the racket?” Gigi, still dressed in her pink leotard, fluttered down beside her sister. “I could hear you yelling over the music!”

“This is not your concern, Gigi,” Guinevere dismissed with a wave of her talon.

“I had it out with Professor Gawain,” Gidget told her, smirking. “I called him a ‘buzzard’ in Old Changeling.”

Gigi gasped. “No way!”

“Way.”

“Girls!” Their mother’s sharp voice made them both jump. “That is enough! Gigi, go back to your room and finish your dance homework!”

“Yes, mother.”

" Gidget, you were completely out of line! You will write a formal apology to Professor Gawain and give it to him when he returns tomorrow!”

The little griffoness balked. "What? Are you--"

“No arguments!" Guinevere interrupted, pointing a long angry talon at her daughter. "I expect to see it before we eat tonight, or you will be going to bed without supper. Is that understood?”

Gidget gulped. “Yes, mother.”

“Good.” Guinevere sat back in her chair and resumed sipping her tea. “Now, return to your room. I’ll see you at supper.”

Defeated, Gidget, slunk back upstairs, slamming the door to her room as hard as she dared. Sighing in relief, Guinevere returned to her book. She had only read a few pages when Gulliand entered the room.

“We’re back…finally,” he announced.

“So, I see,” said Guinevere, looking him over. “Goodness, you’re dusty! You didn’t get that dirty at the lumber mill?”

“No, mother.” Her son chuckled as he lightly shook himself off. “We took one of the mill workers back to the house for some measurements and while we were walking on the roof, I—well—fell through.”

“Oh, no!”

“It’s all right, Mother. I wasn’t hurt and the roof needed to come down anyway. So, no harm done!”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Guinevere sighed. She craned her neck to look behind him. “Where is Cinnamon Roll?”

“Oh, she’s outside brushing herself off. She decided she just had to clean that old stove while we were there.”

Guinevere was about to ask another question when she was interrupted by a thumping sound in the foyer. “Oh, horse apples!” a voice whispered. A second later, Cinnamon Roll stepped into sight.

The griffoness’ eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. The little filly looked as if she had been stuffed up a chimney! Her brown coat was now black as pitch and her creamy mane was streaked dingy brown. Despite tip-hoofing across the floor, a grainy trail of grime followed in her wake.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, smiling apologetically, her teeth shining white against her darkened fur. “I brushed myself out as best I could.”

Gulliand shrugged. “It is nowhere near as bad as you looked when you cleaned Uncle Gustave’s ovens last spring break. You could have passed for Nightmare Moon!”

“Be that as it may,” said Guinevere, leaning as far away from the filthy filly as her chair would allow. “You need a bath, dear, and badly! Gordon!”

“Yes, madam?”

“Escort Cinnamon Roll to the downstairs bath. Make sure she has everything she needs to get clean.”

“At once, madam.” The butler turned to Cinnamon Roll. “This way, Miss Cinnamon.”

The little filly tip-hoofed after the griffon to a large door located between two bookshelves. The butler pushed it open.

“AAAKKK!! Close that door!”

Gordon quickly slammed the door shut. “I apologize, Mr. George! I didn’t realize you were in there, sir!”

“Humph!” They could hear the elderly griffon grunt. “If I wanted an audience I’d poop on the stage and charge admission!”

Gulliand pressed his talon to his beak, his whole body shaking with suppressed laughter. Guinevere buried her face in her talons, muttering a frantic prayer between her fingers. “Please, let it be in the toilet…please, let it be in the toilet…”

FLUSH!

“Oh, thank heaven…”

Uncle George huffily exited the bathroom, shaking his feathers in agitation. “I swear, no one respects privacy anymore! Not even a lock on the blasted door!”

“Sorry to barge in like that Uncle George,” said Cinnamon Roll placatingly.

The old griffon looked her over, his golden eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do I know you?”

The filly smiled. “I’m Cinnamon Roll. Gulliand’s fiancé.”

His face wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you were brown.”

“I am,” Cinnamon Roll assured him, trying not to laugh. “I just got dirty cleaning an old oven. I’ll be brown again after I’ve had my bath.”

Uncle George stared at her for a moment, his brain processing what she had said. Finally, he nodded. “I got you. Go on in.”

“Thank you, Uncle George.”

Guinevere sighed in relief as the elderly griffon flew up to his room.

“I should take a bath as well,” said Gulliand, scratching his fur. “There’s no telling where this dust has been.”

“Were you able to get an estimate on the repairs?” Guinevere asked.

“Yes, but I would rather discuss this when Cinnamon Roll is here.” He paused then continued apprehensively. “There are other things we need to talk about as well.”

His mother winced. “I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?”

“We shall see. I’m going to get my shower. We’ll discuss it at dinner. Excuse me, mother.”

He reached the upper story with a flap of his wings and disappeared into the bathroom.

Gordon appeared at Guinevere’s elbow. “More tea, madam?”

“Yes,” the griffoness sighed. “And add a shot of whiskey.”

---

“Mmm! This is delicious!”

Cinnamon Roll, returned to her usual brown and cream colors, sat at the table next to her fiancé, her plate piled with Griffon potato salad and green beans. Unlike Granny Smith, who served her potato salad with pickles, boiled eggs, and mustard, the griffon cook used cold boiled potatoes, diced onion, and bell peppers then mixed them with oil and vinegar. The taste was sharp and electrifying. The griffons couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm.

“At least someone appreciates my cooking!” Cookie’s voice called from the kitchen.

“It is always good, Cookie!” Gulliand called back. “And I love the ham baked with pineapples! I haven’t had that in a long time!”

“Cuz you lived among ponies for a long time,” snorted Gidget. She flicked a piece of hot pineapple to the side of her plate. “I’m surprised Cinnamon Roll was able to make bacon this morning. I thought ponies would get sick at the sight of meat.”

“Most would,” Cinnamon Roll agreed. “Some of the ponies I went to college with got sick the first time they saw raw meat. But, Aunt Fluttershy taught me that different critters eat different things. That’s just how nature is. It still wasn’t easy, but I learned how to prepare, cook, and slice meat.”

“Reminds me of the time Uncle Gustave ordered the class to shave ham for sandwiches,” Gulliand chuckled. “Cinnamon asked if it was safe to use shaving cream!”

Cinnamon cut her eyes at him, but the griffon was laughing too hard to notice.

“He got mad because he thought she was joking…HA-HA-HA!! But she was SERIOUS! HA-HA!!”

“Oh, hush you!” growled Cinnamon Roll, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. The girls giggled and Guinevere smirked at their antics. The elder griffoness was carefully slicing some meat for her uncle. The old griffon watched warily as she piled it on his plate.

“Do I like this?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, Uncle George. You eat it all the time.”

She watched as he took a bite and swallowed. Content he would eat without further encouragement, she turned her attention to her son.

“So, Gulliand, you were able to get an estimate on the repairs?”

Gulliand stopped laughing. “Yes,” he replied soberly. “It will be two thousand bits for the beams and the roof.”

Guinevere winced. “That the best you could do?”

Gulliand shrugged. “They had some pine which was cheaper but Cinnamon Roll insisted on the oak.”

“Oak is the best wood for beams,” said Cinnamon Roll. “That’s what my uncle always used when fixin’ the barn.”

“And I trust her judgement,” Gulliand concluded.

Guinevere nodded. “And what about the roof? Are you going to continue with the slate?”

Gulliand shook his head. “Slate is far too expensive. We discussed it and thought we might go with tar shingles.”

“Ugh!” Guinevere wrinkled her face as if she had tasted a lemon. “Those are so inelegant.”

“Well, tar shingles ain’t purty to look at but they are cheaper and they work really well,” said Cinnamon. “They’re also easier to replace if they get damaged.”

“We do what we have to, Mother,” added Gulliand. “Remember, these estimates are just for the materials. We haven’t discussed labor yet…”

“And labor can cost more than the materials,” the griffoness groaned.

“Well, Cinnamon Roll spoke with the head carpenter about that, and she found a way to knock 500 bits off the labor.”

“She did?” Guinevere looked at the filly in surprise. “And how did you manage that, dear?”

Cinnamon shrugged. “I told him that Gulliand and I would help the crew with the repairs.”

Total silence fell over the table. The only sound to be heard was the “clink-clink” of Uncle George using his fork. The griffonesses sat still, staring at the couple in bemused silence. Cinnamon Roll glanced around uneasily. “Did…did I say something wrong?”

“Are you flapping serious?”

“Gidget!” cried Guinevere aghast. “Watch your language!”

“Sorry,” the griffoness off-handedly apologized then turned back to her brother. “What in the wide world of Griffdom do you know about fixing roofs?”

“Or using tools?” added Gigi.

“I admit I know nothing about fixing roofs,” retorted Gulliand. “But as many times as I fixed the equipment at Uncle Gustave’s bakery, I think I know how to use tools.”

“So, you’re serious,” said Gigi, raising a skeptical brow. “You’re going to work on a roof sawing and hammering and getting all sweaty?”

“Yes, I am,” Gulliand replied, puffing himself up indignantly. “I can do hard labor when I have to.”

“Yeah,” Gidget snorted sarcastically. “Those eclairs are sooooo heavy!”

Her brother bristled. “Hey, try carrying a wagonload of fifty-pound bags of flour into a cupboard and then stacking them!” he snapped.

“That will do, Gidget,” Guinevere intervened before her daughter could reply. “I’m glad they found a way to keep the costs down. I’m sure there is much more that needs to be done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cinnamon Roll nodded. “Once we get the roof fixed, we’re going to tackle the kitchen and get that up to code. Then, we can start the next phase of the plan.”

“Which is?”

“We’re going to start selling samples of our food in the marketplace! I wanted to give out free samples like we do in Ponyville but Gulliand said that wouldn’t work.”

“It wouldn’t,” said Gigi, shaking her head. “Griffons may be cheapskates, but they are highly suspicious of anything that is free.”

“Exactly,” Gulliand nodded. “This way we can be drumming up interest in the restaurant and making a little money on the side.”

Cinnamon Roll smiled at her fiance. “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “Anyway, once we start cookin’, we’re gonna need to fix up the livin’ space so we can move in. That way we don’t have to go up and down the mountain every morning.”

“So, you two are planning on living together before marriage?” asked Guinevere, sounding slightly scandalized. “I assumed you would both live with us until the wedding.”

Cinnamon Roll blushed. “Well, we had planned on gettin' married the day after graduation, but Granny Smith talked us out of it.”

“The Apples are a very large family with ingrained traditions,” explained Gulliand, giving his fiancee’s hoof a supportive squeeze. “They wished for her to have a proper wedding, but that could not happen until we had established our business, so her grandmother accommodated us.”

Gidget gave a dry smile. “You can live together but no nesting.”

“Right,” her brother replied, returning her dry look. “Cinnamon Roll wishes to wait until marriage for that sort of thing and I respect that.”

“Sure you’re related to our father?” Gidget mumbled under her breath, which earned her a kick under the table from Gigi. Cinnamon Roll gave her fiancé a warm nuzzle.

“Thanks, Sugar Cube.”

The filly returned to her meal. To her surprise, a slice of ham had appeared on her plate.

“Wha—where did--?”

“Here, girl!” Uncle George leaned in close and plunked down another juicy slice along with a few chunks of roasted pineapple. “No fair these vultures hogging it all!”

The little filly blushed, unsure of what to say. One of the last things she wanted to do was insult the elderly griffon. Luckily, Guinevere came to her rescue. She gently laid a talon on her uncle’s arm. “Uncle George, what are you doing?”

The griffon frowned. “I’m giving my niece some ham. What does it look like?”

“I can see that,” Guinevere continued in a gentle voice. “But Cinnamon Roll is a pony. Ponies are vegetarians.”

The old griffon blinked in confusion. The griffoness rolled her eyes.

“She doesn’t eat meat.”

“SHE DOESN’T EAT MEAT!?”

Everybody jumped at the outburst. Gordon came running. Even Cookie and her assistants stuck their heads out of the kitchen to see what was going on. Cinnamon Roll shrunk down in her chair. After a second, though, Uncle George looked down at her and smiled.

“That’s okay,” he told her. “Wait till we have lamb!”

---

It was after midnight in the LeGrand mansion. Every creature was asleep in their beds. Muffled snores emanated from behind closed doors. Even Gordon the ever-vigilant butler was sound asleep in his room on the first floor. The little summoning bell he kept next to his bed remained quiet.

Upstairs in her nest, Cinnamon Roll grunted and opened her eyes. She glanced up at the window. Though the curtains were drawn she could make out the silvery light of the moon around the edges. Still nighttime, she thought as she turned over and snuggled down happily into her blanket. Her eyes were still half-open, lazily gazing at the shadows in the room. The bedside table. The tall dresser. The vanity with its oval mirror reflecting the pale light from the window.

Her eyes were slowly drooping shut when they locked on a shadow next to the bed. Her sleepy mind dismissed it. It’s just a shadow. But her eyes could not leave it. It looked...strange. It was tall and bulky looking, its top rounded. As she stared, she noticed part of the shadow appeared to be leaning against the nest. Her eyes drifted down to where the shadow met the edge of the bed. Slowly, her eyes focused on that part. What is that? There was an odd shaped lump on the edge of the nest, close to her head. She stared at it, trying to make sense of what it was. That's when it moved! It was a set of large, razor sharp talons!

Cold horror shot through her like ice water. Now fully awake she gasped and curled her body away. The figure by the bed seemed to straighten. Then she heard a hissing sound and the unmistakable sound of water hitting a flat surface.

“Be careful, I don’t want to pee on you!”

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Cinnamon Roll was no pegasus but she would have sworn she levitated to the top of the dresser. A moment later, the door flew open.

“What is going on here?” demanded Guinevere, turning on the lights. She was closely followed by Gulliand, the girls, and a hastily put together Gordon. Standing next to the nest, looking confused and a little scared, was Uncle George.

“What happened?” asked Gulliand, looking up at Cinnamon Roll.

“He-he-him!” The little filly managed to stammer as she pointed a shaking hoof at the elderly griffon. “He…he…HE TINKLED ON ME!”

Gidget examined the nest. “Tinkled?” she snickered. “More like you got hit with a fire hose!”

“Gidget, please!” Guinevere took her uncle’s arm and gently pulled him away from the nest. “Now, Uncle George, you have a bathroom in your suite. There’s no reason for you to leave your room to use the toilet.”

The old griffon shook his head. “I couldn’t find the bathroom. I looked and looked and I just couldn’t hold it anymore.”

“It’s all right, Uncle George,” Guinevere replied soothingly. “You just gave Cinnamon Roll quite a fright. Let me take you to your room and I’ll put you to bed. All right?”

The old griffon nodded. "Okay," he said quietly.

Guinevere turned to Gordon. “Do you mind…?” she asked, motioning towards the bed.

“I will take care of it, Madam.”

“Come on, Cinnamon Roll.” Gulliand stood on his back legs and gently pulled the filly down from the dresser. Her arms went around his neck and she buried her face in his chest, trembling. He held her tightly and slowly rocked her back and forth. “It’s all right, Cherie,” he crooned. “It’s all right.”

“It…it just scared me,” mumbled Cinnamon from the fluff on his chest. “Waking up and seeing that shadow over the bed.”

“Join the club, we have jackets,” muttered Gidget sarcastically.

“Uncle George gets confused really easy, especially at night,” Gigi explained. “He wanders around sometimes and gets lost. I don’t know why, but he never turns on the light.”

“Don’t ya’ll have locks on the doors?” asked Cinnamon raising her head.

Gidget and Gigi both shook their heads. “Mother had them removed when Uncle George moved in. She didn't want to risk him accidentally locking us out."

"I usually put my desk against the door at night," said Gidget, shrugging. "Doesn't necessarily keep him out, but at least he can't sneak up on me."

Cinnamon Roll nodded. Now that the shock was over she was starting to feel embarrassed. "I...I think I need a quick shower." She glanced back at Gordon who was stoically removing the soiled bedding and shivered in revulsion. "And another place to sleep."

"You can sleep with me tonight," offered Gigi, kindly. "I got plenty of room in my nest. It's also right next to Gulliand's room, if that makes you feel better."

"Don't say anything," said Gulliand pointing a warning talon at Gidget. The snarky griffoness stuck out her tongue at him. "But I will be nearby if you need me," he added, looking at Cinnamon Roll.

"Thanks, Sugar Cube."

The brown filly made her way to the bathroom. She lathered herself up, using as much soap as she could to get the smell off. After the third wash and rinse, Cinnamon had decided she could not wait. No matter what, she was moving out the next day.

Author's Note:

Some events in this chapter were taken from my own experience. When my daughter and i stayed with my parents in Lake St. Louis a few years back, my Dad came into the room and peed on me in the bed. I had escort him back to bed, strip the mattress, and take a bath. we kept the room locked at night after that.

Back in the late 1980's I had an ex-boyfriend who snuck into my parent's house while we were sleeping and crept into my room. Cinnamon's seeing the shadow is exactly the way I felt when I realized there was a man hovering over my bed. (One of many reasons he soon became an EX).