The Talk of the Town
Apple Bloom wasn’t sure what to expect when she returned towards String Bean’s stall. The mob of a couple dozen Valley ponies, mostly mares, was pretty close to her first few guesses.
The boy had changed his sign again, this time to something involving tonics and healthy ingredients, Apple Bloom couldn’t quite make it out. He was struggling to keep up with the orders, frantically going from customer to blasting magic at his pots to squinting hard to crank his machine into gear.
“I went to go visit the yaks in the tundra and now I like, totally have a cold!” One of the mares in front called out.
“Ginger Mix, coming up!” String Bean replied.
“I’m on a very strict paleo-pony diet right now, and I need protein, chuh,” one of the rare stallions in the crowd said, although Apple Bloom wasn’t sure if this guy qualified for ‘stallion’ with a weak-looking build like that. He certainly didn’t look like he was on a diet, unless he was on a paleo-pony diet to prepare for a hibernation.
“Clover and ground nuts smoothie, coming up,” came the hurried reply.
Apple Bloom gagged. String Bean had clearly taken some hints from the health nuts down in Hall 3.
Before she could try to get his attention, another mare piped up. “I think I like, totally have malaria from my last trip Maresico!”
“Tonic, coming up.” The boy didn’t miss a beat, though his voice was starting to crack.
“I need to pee!” Came a random cry, before String Bean had even put his ingredients in.
He kept going, more slowly now. “Umm… cranberry, I guess?”
Still the ponies kept on crowding around and calling out their inane orders. One of the Unicorn mares managed to magically shove everyone out of the way to get to the front. “I’ve been doing rigorous training with this, like, brand new program from Manehattan, you’ll probably hear about it in a few weeks. But now, like, my horn hurts!”
Finally, String Bean let out a sigh and his whole body slumped. “If I knew what fixed that, Ma’am, I’d be guzzling it by the gallon right now.”
Well, that’s enough of that. Apple Bloom gently tapped one of the back mares on the hind quarters to get her attention. “Excuse me, Ma’am, but isn’t this a little excessive? He’s only one pony, and a little one at that. If y’all could maybe disperse orderly-like, there’s plenty of other healthy products on offer in Hall 3, grown naturally and by experienced farmers. I’m sure the ponies there would love to do business with fine Vanity Valley ponies like yourselves.”
“Chuh, as if,” the mare replied with a roll of the eyes. “Magic is, like, the new natural, and we are so not going miss out on this, especially for some country bumpkin.”
“Hey, I got a badge, you know,” Apple Bloom protested. “I don’t need to make this a nice request if I don’t have to.”
“Like, whatever.”
She grumbled. Clearly this crowd wasn’t going to disperse on its own, and String Bean would collapse long before he got done with all these orders, especially since none of the ponies he’d served were actually leaving afterwards. They just wanted to hang around his stall for the prestige.
Apple Bloom sat down, tapped her head, and thought. I’m out of my element here. What would Scootaloo do, or Sweetie Belle? Either one of’em would do the same thing: crank up the ole’ vocal volume to ‘foghorn’ levels. She took a deep breath and snorted. Alright, then, if these ponies ain’t gonna move, I’ll just have to fight fire with fire. Fight fancy accent with fancy accent.
With her best impersonation of one of her lawyer cousins, Apple Bloom gruffly shouted, “Now hold on just a second there, Mister!” The crowd parted to make way for her, and she took the opportunity to step forward with all the confidence of a peacock. “Do you have a proper certify-cation by the Agricultural Department o’ the EEA?”
String Bean shrugged and took out a piece of official-looking parchment from beneath his counter. “Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Right here, stamped and dated. I had more copies, but we had a monster attack and some of my documents ended up as peat.”
Apple Bloom froze. “Okay, did not see that one coming.” She shook her head. “Be that as it may, where’s your timestamps?”
“My what?”
Apple Bloom slammed a hoof down on the ground. “Everypony in Equestria knows, that any and all professional use of magic must be, I say, must be in accordance with the laws set forth by the Canterlot Representative Archmage Parliament. And as such, having been granted this official-like capacity by the organisers of this event, and bein’ on speakin’ terms with the Princesses…” She looked left and right, and enough Valley girls whispered hushed acknowledgements of recognition to egg her on. “I hereby order you to relinquish your timestamps and prove you have not been exceedin’ the legal, I said, the legal limit of one hour of magic practice. Third-level magic, that is.”
String Bean stared at her blankly. “Uhuh. And if I can’t?”
“Then you’re gonna have to take a mandatory break from any and all magical activities , or I’ll get security.” She turned towards the mares around her, grinning. “Unless, of course, some of the ladies want to risk getting burnt-out magic in their drinks. I’m sure none of you fine ponies mind inbibin’ a product of… over-exploitation!”
A gasp went through the crowd.
“Sweatshop foal labour!”
Another mare swooned before fainting.
Apple Bloom flashed a smile at the Unicorn mare up front. “Not to mention the well-documented health risks if you over-burn yourself. I’m sure the resulting product won’t make anypony’s hair fall out or nothin’.”
A blonde mare screamed at a stray strand of hay that had appeared completely out of nowhere and certainly had not been planted by the filly for just such an occasion.
After that, the mob fell silent. Apple Bloom looked around, and found only terror on the faces around her. Mission accomplished. “Well, then, if’n there’s no objections or protestations comin’ my way, I’m calling it on behalf of the organisation: mandatory cooling-off period, same as any professional in the magical arts. Now git!”
“Well, sorry, ladies, but you heard the official, must obey the laws, after all,” String Bean quickly put up another sign to show he was closed.
“Yup,” Apple Bloom added. “Laws, can’t do it, gotta follow’em.”
“String Bean’s back in business in two hours,” he said with a smile.
The crowd dispersed, awkwardly but surely, leaving only Apple Bloom to talk to the colt.
“Where did you learn to talk like that?” he asked, catching his breath.
She chuckled with a blush on her face. “Umm, let’s just say you’d be surprised what kind of ponies show up to my family reunions.”
“Well, thanks, I owe you one. That was a really good bluff.”
She went to the back of his stall, scooped up some shaven ice from a nearby bucket, and put it on his forehead, at the base of his horn.
He cringed in pain before slumping again. “Ow, what was that fo-huhuuh, oh that feels good.” His hind legs buckled, and he sat down lest he fall flat on his face.
She winced. The ice melted like it was nothing, she could feel that heat radiating off his horn, there were wisps of vapour coming off of him and everything. “Wasn’t a bluff. One of my lawyer cousins had to deal with a Unicorn union once, long story. But what happened to you? I thought you were gonna try to do something more you?”
“I did. I found this book by a diet expert, and I have all the seeds and pots I need, so I figured, why not?”
Apple Bloom saw his inventory of miniature fruit trees had expanded by now, and he had a few smaller pots with herbs in them, too. They were starting to stack up at an alarming rate, from the looks of it. “That’s your idea of putting more brain into it?”
His ears drooped, and a sad little pout appeared on his lips. “It’s all I could think of.”
She knew, or hoped she knew, what he’d say, but she still had to ask the all-important question. “And do you like this better?”
He looked like he was about to cry out of disappointment. “No. Anypony can look up in a book what does what. I’m not a medic, and I feel absolutely terrified every time I give someone a supposedly healthy or medicinal drink. What if I mess up and they get hurt? I’d never forgive myself.”
Apple Bloom did her best not to smile. To see a colt with that much of a resemblance to Flim and Flam say something like that, it filled her heart with… something. She wasn’t sure if it was pride or wonder or whatever, but it was something good. She still wished it was in better circumstances, though.
“Not like it matters,” String Bean continued. “All those Valley girls, they’re not trying to be healthy, they’re trying to be trendy. They just want an excuse to tell everypony around what they’re doing, they’re such attention hogs. All they want is hollow stuff. And all I’ve got is hollow.”
Apple Bloom bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I know how much that meant to you.”
“Not your fault. But I guess putting more fancy vitamins in my recipes isn’t all that fulfilling, either. I honestly thought it was for a second there, but I can’t deal with that kind of pressure. I don’t want everything to fall apart if I mess up.”
Understandable. She gestured to the plants he’d grown. “Those trees look nice, though. That’s a fine talent to have, you can work with that. Why not just keep doing that, make juices on the side? That’s way more impressive.”
He shrugged. “I can’t. The plants are a waste product, that’s all. I couldn’t get any fruits of my own in here, that’s the only reason I grew them like this. I’ll probably get rid of them when the day’s done.”
“What? Why?”
“Because,” he insisted. “I can’t. It’s not… it’s not proper, it’s not efficient. Growing trees is a waste if you don’t do anything with them. Making a product, that’s what I need to do, and selling it. I need something that counts and all that stuff? That doesn’t count for anything.”
She wanted to scream at him for saying that, but she bit her tongue. The last thing she needed to do here was hurt his feelings, and obviously this was a sore spot. She couldn’t think of why, though, and part of her was kicking around in her head about something obvious and stupid she was forgetting. She couldn’t let herself get sidetracked. “Okay, then, umm… what would count, then? Producin’ something on your own strength, no magic?”
String Bean sat back, more upright now that his horn had cooled down, and she could have sworn he whimpered. “Yes. That’d be perfect. That’d fix everything.”
“And did you get your cutie mark doing that?”
“No. I got it growing a bean plant for a school project. Things kinda went downhill from there.”
“Okay, but you did use magic to do that, right? Your talent is definitely something to do with plants, you’re sure of that much?”
“Most Unicorns naturally get higher-level magic in what they’re talented at,” he explained. “And I have plant magic just like that, so yeah, I did. Since that’s my magic, that means my talent has to be plant-based, growth-based, probably food-based, too. But like I said, nothing works. I’m not happy with any of it.”
That sure sounded like her first instinct, namely that he was simply missing out on the satisfaction of physical work. He’d done the magical work, and it had completely wrecked him. “Right, then, how about we try the serious stuff? Physical farm work, like Earth ponies do it.”
“You really think that’s what my talent means?”
Apple Bloom went to sit next to him and started counting all the options on her hoof. “You’ve tried putting your heart into it, and you can’t do any more. You tried putting more thought into it, and that just put too much pressure on you. But now you know what you want is something that can still stand after a mistake. You want something that’s not gonna go ‘poof’ and disappear, which, I’m guessing, means you want to do something that you don’t build with a ‘poof’ in the first place. That’s exactly how Earth ponies do things, so you know what to try next: you gotta get the full Earth pony experience.”
“I don’t know...”
“Uhuh. That’s the whole point. You don’t know. You could be a lot stronger than you figure, if you’ve never tried this sort of thing before. You’re not gonna get anywhere trying to put more tradition in it, and the added strategising is messing with your head, not to mention drawing the wrong crowd. You just said that would fix everything. Why, does your family not like you doing that, either?”
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, they want me to do physical stuff, alright. Just not that kind.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, hang on. What does your family want you to do, then?”
“Never mind, it’s nothing. But what if I can’t do it? What if I fail at that, too?”
“Then that’ll be another thing you know. You’ll know you’re a wizard first, and you should stick to wizard things. No need to get hung up on what you can’t do right now, you’ve got plenty of time to grow.”
He sighed and stared at the ground. “Wizard things, huh?”
“Come on, you’re not scared of losing to a girl, are ya? You need to be absolutely sure you can’t do physical work before you rule it out. If it doesn’t work, then you’ll know your talent is pure magic.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“Howdie, Miss Jubilee!” Apple Bloom called out. “I brought along a competitor.”
The mare came trotting towards them. “Howdie, young sir. I’m Cherry Jubilee, I own an orchard down in Dodge Junction. Cherry orchard, that is, but I’m sure you guessed as much.”
He smiled and extended a hoof. “Hi. My name’s String Bean, Miss. I’ve got a little juicer set up nearby.”
She shook his hoof, but slowly, thinking. “Pleased to make your acquaintance... String Bean? That name rings a bell. Are you famous for something?”
“Not yet, Miss,” he replied sheepishly.
“Hmm, probably confusin’ ya for somepony else, then. I take it little Apple Bloom’s explained the rules already?”
“She, umm, she gave me the quick cliff notes.”
Cherry Jubilee led them around the little arena, showing off the horseshoe toss, the hay bale drag, and the stacking. “For small ponies like you, it’s quite simple: you land three horseshoes, you’re allowed to switch throwing hooves if you like. Then you rope five hay bales down, standing in that little circle there. Once you’re done, you stack’em as high as possible.”
Apple Bloom noticed String Bean’s nervousness. His ears flittered from here to there, and a little vein in his neck kept popping up every time he gritted his teeth. “And no magic,” Apple Bloom added. “We’re tryin’ to see if you can do this sort of thing without it.”
Miss Jubilee seemed to notice his nerves. “It’s a nice casual contest, just somethin’ for ponies to get a feel of things, maybe for me to find some seasonal workers when the bigger ponies show up, nothin’ to worry about. Plus, you get a little treat afterwards.”
String Bean looked behind him at the stock.
“Mostly backlog I need to get rid of, hun, no need to fret about price,” Cherry Jubilee said.
He blushed, and Apple Bloom nudged him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just remember why you’re here. This is why you showed up to this event in the first place, right?”
“Right. Gotta make sure I’m not a wizard.”
He shivered with nerves, and Apple Bloom was starting to get second thoughts. The die was cast, though, and Miss Jubilee did not wait.
“Good, that’s settled, then. On your marks, get set, go!”
Both foals rushed to the first stop. Apple Bloom had the advantage with her experience in horseshoe tossing, landing the first two in quick succession. That constant fine control took its toll on her, though, and her throwing arm started to shake. She found herself switching arms, but she’d seen it in Applejack and it was happening to her: once you get the jitters, they tend to stick around.
String Bean took full advantage of that. He kept his eyes firmly on his target, and tossed his horseshoes carefully and slowly, making sure to shake his arms after every toss so he didn’t end up shivering too much. It took him longer to get the first one down, but the second came right after, and he managed a clean third shot mere seconds after that, putting him dead even with his opponent.
Then came the hay.
After dashing to the next site and getting into the red circle, Apple Bloom took the rope in her mouth and whirled it around like a skilled rodeo pony, before whipping her head back and forth to yank one of the haybales off the pile and into place. It didn’t matter if the landing wasn’t too clean: she could stack them up just fine afterwards.
String Bean, though, had a tougher time at it. His skill with the rope was fine for a beginner, more than fine, in fact. He moved his head and the rope with a calm and calculated rhythm, the likes of which Apple Bloom would have sooner expected from a soldier than a rodeo pony. He couldn’t hit the hay as easily as she could, but he got it, still.
Dragging that weight down, though, was something he definitely struggled with.
He copied her motions perfectly, from the whip in the neck to the rearing up to throw his whole bodyweight into it. But while Apple Bloom had managed to toss her fourth hay bale down, String Bean had barely managed to get two.
Huh? Come on, he can’t be that weak. He must have some power in his body.
“Come on, Shtring Bean,” Apple Bloom said with the rope still in her mouth. “Show ush whatchur made of.”
He snorted, tossed the rope over another bale, clenched his jaw, and threw his whole little body into the motion. “T-three!”
He got it. Apple Bloom’s breath caught when she saw him lift up that bale like a real rodeo pony.
Then he buckled. She could see the ropey muscles in his legs give out right as his target had hit its highest point. He went down, and ended up yanking that mass of hay straight down with him.
She spit out the rope when she realised what was happening. “String Bean, watch out!”
In a reflex, he bunched up his whole body, closed his eyes, and let loose a bolt of bright green energy that swelled up inside the hay, making the rope bindings crack and break. It exploded, and hay rained down on him.
Apple Bloom rushed to him as quick as she could. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”
“I reckon you slipped a little there, little guy,” Cherry Jubilee said, approaching him. “How are you feelin’? Your eyes don’t look so sharp.”
“Yeah, are you seein’ stars?” Apple Bloom asked. All over his neck and chest, she could see twitches under his skin, a sure sign his muscles weren’t up to the task.
“I’m fine. No stars, no dark, I can see you two just fine.” String Bean rubbed his head as he got back on his hooves. “Sorry about the hay, Miss.”
“Oh, it’s only hay, never you mind, better that than to have it knock you silly,” Miss Jubilee replied. “That was a fine display from the both of you. You obviously bit off more than you could chew, little boy, you’ve earned your prize. Heavens know you need to get some energy back after that.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” String Bean said. “But I didn’t win. I had to use magic, which means I forfeited.” He got up and extended a hoof for Apple Bloom to shake. “You were right, Apple Bloom. I can’t do this sort of thing like Earth ponies do.”
As much as she liked winning – it ran in her family, after all – Apple Bloom wasn’t too excited about her victory. “That’s not a bad thing, String Bean. You wanted to know what your talent is, and now you do: it’s magic. You don’t have to pretend you’re an Earth pony, you don’t have to go doing Earth pony things, you’re a fine enough wizard. There are plenty of things you can do that’ll suit you better.”
“Yeah, sure there are.” He turned his back on the two Earth ponies and walked off. “I think I’ll just stick to my strengths, then, find something wizardly to do.”
Cherry Jubilee shot a confused look at the girl. “Now what was that all about?”
“I don’t know.” Apple Bloom looked up. “He’s looking for his talent. His talent’s obviously magic.”
“Obviously. It’s not physical work, for sure, you’d be able to tell by now if he’s had that mark for a while.”
“I think maybe I hurt his pride or somethin’? Why would he feel bad about this? He’s a wizard, they do lots of stuff we can’t. Shouldn’t that make him prouder?”
“Hmm.” Jubilee winced. “Unless he’s used to winning with his magic, and never goes without it.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s a hard thing to admit a weakness, hun, you should know that by now. Plenty of rodeo ponies struggle with it, especially the ones who try to do every event. Even your sister had trouble admitting her weaknesses, as an adult, I might add.”
That was, indeed, a sentiment she could relate to. “Oh, yeah, like that. Definitely hurt pride, then.”
“A boy like that, not used to competing, or losing? Hurt pride sounds like a fair bet to me. Come on, I’ll get ya your cherry jam cupcakes and the scarf. And if you see that boy again, be sure to tell him he can come get his, too, you hear? He’s definitely got a talent for something, and I’d hate to be the one to put it on the wrong path.”
Talent? Yeah, what exactly is his talent, anyway? If it’s farm work, it’s got to be magic farm work. But what does that cutie mark mean, then? It can’t just be his magic, he’s been using it all day and he still feels rotten.
Apple Bloom pondered the idea, then pondered some more, then started ruminating on it and she did not like it one bit. That feeling, that nagging feeling from before, started to gnaw at her brain.
Why do I feel like I’m forgettin’ something here?
The squash competition was over, the cucumbers had all been judged, and Apple Bloom didn’t feel like checking up on String Bean while he was upset, so after lunch she walked along with Grand Pear down the halls of the specialists.
She would go back to String Bean, she knew that much. Anything beyond that was still in the planning stages at best.
Maybe I can cheer him up with a regular old pep talk. It’s just a little hurt pride, that’s no biggie. All I gotta do is tell him it’s okay to be a wizard and he’s not gonna be happy pretending to be something he’s not. Easy peasy, he already knows he ain’t happy doing his growth magic just for some juice. Some bigger ambitions’ll suit him, if I can find any.
“You okay, Apple Bloom?” Grand Pear asked. “You’ve been kind of pensive since lunch.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just, you know, digestin’ some stuff.”
“Mhmm. Well, put on your diplomat face, we’re gonna be talking to some foreigners.”
Said foreigners could be heard and smelled long before they were seen. Stomps and smashes rang through the air, punctuated by two-word roars that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite make out the actual words. When the stall came into view, Apple Bloom realised she’d have to be on her best behaviour. “Yak farmers. Of course.”
“Greetings, ponies!” The older-looking yak bull at the stand said. “Yak Hemmerbrid welcome and pleased to see interest in yak Frost Fungus farming!”
Apple Bloom furrowed her brow when she heard the yak’s name, but then she noticed the rocks Hemmerbrid had braided into his hair, making it look like he wore upside-down hammers. She suspected those things were an improvised weapon, too, on the off chance the horns couldn’t reach. Judging by the voice, he was a little older than Prince Rutherford, but younger than her grandfather.
“Frost Fungus?” Grand Pear said. “Oh, my. You never see that stuff outside of a museum. Very hardy organism, very tough.” His eyes wandered to the knives hanging about the stall, and Apple Bloom took a moment to appreciate it, too. Those things looked like they could cut through bone like butter.
“Pony correct. Only yak strong enough to farm Frost Fungus, only finest yak like Likkenstomp smart enough to learn.” Hemmerbrid nodded to his younger compatriot, who made a point not to get too close, lest he get a hammering from those braids.
“Oh, always nice to see traditions passing on. I’m Grand Pear, this is my granddaughter, Apple Bloom.”
Likkenstomp grunted in approval. He had to be about Big Mac’s age, little bit older, if the fluff in his ears was anything to go by. “Old pony known to yak. Little pony heard of from student in Ponyville.”
So Yona had mentioned her to her fellow yaks. “Only good things, I hope,” Apple Bloom started.
“Little pony good at smashing,” Likkenstomp replied. He grunted again. “Messy smashing, not yak way. Room for improvement!”
Much to her surprise, Grand Pear didn’t press the issue. “So what’s your process, then? I mean, obviously there’s a few trade secrets, but broadly speaking, what do you do? Do you use magic or some type of trained animal?”
“No and no, old pony, is all yak! First yak look for tree likely to have fungal growth. Strong trunk, crown shaped like yak helmet, receding roots, all good signs of fungal growth. Then, yak sniff.” Hemmerbrid made a point to sniff the air as gruffly as he could. “Big, old, wise yak know smell of good tree, teach young yak how to smell.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Grand Pear said. “Then it’s a family thing, I take it?”
“Pony take right. Frost Fungus searching very important for family bonding. When good tree is found, harvesting can begin, traditional way.”
Apple Bloom tried to remember if she’d ever heard anyone in Ponyville mention this Frost Fungus thing at all, but nothing came to mind. Considering how Zap Apples and Quartz Quinces were grown, she figured she might as well ask. “Traditional, how?”
“Yak smash!” Likkenstomp pounded the table hard enough to shake the ground. The knives hanging by the stand rattled ominously.
“Uhuh.” Grand Pear adjusted his footing. “So you bring down the tree, makes sense. Kinda like how truffles are found, then?”
“Of course not, truffles totally different!” Hemmerbrid replied. “Requires much less precision. Young Frost Fungus very delicate,” he whispered. “Like snowflake when little. Only yak know how to smash it right.”
“I’m sure. And after you bring down the tree, what then?”
“Yak dig up root very carefully and inspect for any traces of fungal intrusion.” Likkenstomp explained calmly. “Yak take careful note of all places where nodules form, report to yak agricultural engineers for approval, and predict vectors of infection with maximal accuracy. Is yak science. Like pony science, but better.” He grinned.
Grand Pear exchanged a glance with Apple Bloom and nodded. “Oh, that does actually does sound quite scientific. And how do your engineers process such information?”
“Yak smash!” Again, Likkenstomp smashed the ground. This time, the impact was enough for Apple Bloom to start shaking like a rung bell.
Grand Pear put a hoof on her to stop the shaking, not even taking his eyes off the yaks. “Never woulda guessed.”
“Yak don’t just take Frost Fungus out of dirt: yak expose to air, yak find places on felled trunk to put little fungus pieces in. Yak get plenty more fungus that way,” Hemmerbrid explained.
“Interesting.” Grand Pear looked up and tapped his chin sagely, thinking out loud. “So you do actually farm the Frost Fungus, but your base stock always shifts depending on what tree it’s on. I suppose that would help prevent any diseases from spreading, especially considering you’re probably dealing with a monoculture and all.”
“Old pony smart, is exactly why yak farm traditionally,” Hemmerbrid said.
“But still, mature Frost Fungus is a very tenacious thing, hard as a glacier in the dead of winter. How do you harvest something that’s basically icey rock when mature?”
“Yak smash!” Likkenstomp illustrated his tradition again, this time stopping the rattling of the knives himself. From the looks of the holes on the table top, those things had already fallen down more than once today.
“You don’t say,” Grand Pear remarked.
“Wood must be smashed in very particular pattern, free mature growths and spread spores into ground for future generations. Yak smash sustainably!” Hemmerbrid proudly held up one of his hooves.
“And how do you process the product?” Grand Pear’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s anything like reindeer lichen, it must absorb a lot of stuff from the air. Are there any toxins you need to watch out for?”
Hemmerbrid grunted. “Oh, yes, yes, high risk of toxins, especially when in hard form, requires careful preparation and boiling. So yak smash!”
Apple Bloom and Grand Pear braced themselves for the blow.
Instead, though, Hemmerbrid brought up a slice of bread smeared with their signature product. “Into fine paste that goes nicely with some black and blue yeti cheese.”
Given that the cheese itself was more of an off-white with green dots in it, Apple Bloom figured the yaks were referring to a black and blue yeti, or possibly one they’d beaten black and blue beforehoof. The paste was a clear ice blue, and appeared to almost glow on top of the cheese. Grand Pear grabbed a slice and took a tentative bite. He nodded and hmm-ed in approval. Not about to make her grandfather look bad, Apple Bloom tried a bite herself.
The taste was nostalgic to her. It reminded her, quite specifically, of a time not too long ago when she and her friends had gotten the idea to do a little cheerleading routine for Rainbow Dash, though Apple Bloom suspected Scootaloo wanted to repeat the performance for Rumble sometime. Sweetie Belle had spent most of the day making costumes and pompoms, and Tender Taps had offered to help out, as he had a little bit of experience in choreography. They’d taken all day to get the routine down just right, and when they were ready and Sweetie Belle had finished her last pompom, Applejack had come by with a tasty treat.
The cheese did not taste like that treat at all. It did, however, taste exactly like one of Scootaloo’s sweaty socks that had somehow ended up in Apple Bloom’s mouth when their pony pyramid collapsed. ‘Salty Sweat of Pegasus’ wasn’t exactly her favourite flavour, and she gagged as soon as the nostalgia factor had worn off.
Hemmerbrid growled. “Little pony no appreciate hard yak work?”
Apple Bloom quickly gulped it down. “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I’ve been going around all day and I’ve got the sickly sweet taste of mango in my mouth, still. This is delicious, though, nice palette cleanser.”
“Don’t worry about my granddaughter, Hemmerbrid, you know how little children are when their taste buds aren’t fully grown yet,” Grand Pear explained.
“Hmm. Little weak pony need weak pony flavours. Yak understand.”
Apple Bloom quickly swallowed the slice, and pretended the ensuing ‘burp’ wasn’t an attempt by her stomach to clear out what it mistakenly identified as a used Pegasus sock. Not that she blamed her stomach for that, as it was an easy mistake to make. “Wow, I can tell a lot of work went into that, and what an interesting culture, too. You know, between the farming and the holidays I’ve heard of, I can’t help but notice yaks smash up a lot of wood. Is there a story behind that?”
Likkenstomp didn’t even need to think about his answer. “Yak can’t help notice ponies still have Timberwolf problem. Yak do not. That story behind smashing.”
“Oh. Touché.”
“Gesundheit.”
Grand Pear nudged her along. “Well, we’ll leave you gentleyaks to your business. We’ll come by for a jar when we’ve done our rounds.”
“Yak will be waiting!” Hemmerbrid called out.
“That was close,” Grand Pear whispered once the yaks were out of earshot. “Quick thinking, though.”
“Thanks. Where to next?”
“I’ve got a little surprise for ya.” He winked. “Very important fellows, had to pull a few strings to get them to show up. And pull a few legs, too.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes widened when she saw one of the stalls nearby.
“Grand Pear!” The owner called out, while his associates waved in greeting. “We made it! And look, we even got the sign done, just like you said.”
The filly stopped and looked at her grandfather. He smirked and looked right back.
The owners of the stall were brightly coloured, deer-faced, and had eyes with strange lens-like growths hiding the pupils. The largest of them, whom she knew as current leader of the Hive, also sported a set of antlers shaped like the claws of a stag beetle.
Not that any of that really mattered, she realised, because they were all, without exception, shapeshifters. She looked at the sign and idly wondered if that was really a delegate in disguise.
“You never told me you knew changelings,” she said.
“Haven’t known’em for long,” the old stallion replied casually. “And I haven’t had much time to tell you. Which reminds me, Apple Bloom: your grandfather’s on speaking terms with the new head honcho of the changeling Hive.”
“Uhuh.” She skipped along a few paces to stand right in front of the stall. “Heya, Thorax.”
“Hello to you, too, Apple Bloom,” the changeling leader replied, giving her a dignified nod.
“Well now, don’t tell me you two’ve met already?” Grand Pear asked, pouting. “And here I was hoping to impress you.”
“We’re both friends with Spike, Twilight’s dragon friend,” Apple Bloom said, gesturing to the changeling leader. “And we met when Thorax and Ember had a double booking in Ponyville. I tried givin’ him some tips on how to farm, but I ain’t exactly got my degree in agricultural whatchamacallits yet.”
Thorax chuckled nervously. “No. I still appreciated it, though. It’s nice knowing at least one pony can keep it simple. Or two.” He nodded to Grand Pear. “Made the follow-up visits from Canterlot a lot less embarrassing.”
“So what are y’all selling?” Apple Bloom asked, looking at the sign on the stall, then the produce they’d brought. Neither made much sense: the product looked like a ball of cotton candy, only the cottony texture had longer fibres than usual. The name for it was downright confusing. “A thneed? What in tarnation is a thneed?”
“Oh, a thneed is a fine something that all creatures need,” one of the changelings next to Thorax replied. “It’s a fibre, you see, but one you can eat. You can put it in soup or weave it into a sheet.”
Grand Pear rolled his eyes. “No need for the rhyming, Notum, she’s not asking for a sales pitch.”
Notum grumbled. “Shoot. Well, I’m sure you’ll hear that old rhyme in school anyway. A thneed is basically a ball of fluff, like cotton. And it can be used like cotton, too, except it’s also something a lot of animals can eat. It doesn’t taste very well on its own, mind you, it’s like bread without a crust, but it gives soups a lovely zest. It’s even a good construction material. Oh, and you can make string instruments with it. Antique instruments, that is. Well, new antiques. I guess technically they wouldn’t be antiques, then, would they?”
“He means it’s what ponies used to use for cello and violin strings and such. It’s one of those materials with a million uses,” Grand Pear said. “Used to be big business, too.”
“Used to be?” Apple Bloom asked.
“The thneed is made from the tufts of a very particular and rare tree, called the truffula tree,” Thorax said. “Apparently, ponies once found a whole forest near the Southern border, realised it could be turned into something everyone wanted, and started chopping down trees to harvest. The truffula tree was brought from flourishing forests to the edge of extinction within months.”
“Wow. What happened then?”
“It got pushed over the edge, of course,” Notum joked. “At least in pony lands. But, as it turns out, we built our Hive right near another forest of truffula, and we, ah… we may have sucked the life of them so much they went into hibernation. Once Chrysalis was exiled and we stopped draining the land of love, the truffula trees grew back. Slowly at first, since it takes over twenty years for a seed to grow into an adult. Thankfully, their hibernation strategy doesn’t take as long to reverse.”
“Huh. Ain’t you riskin’ the same mistake, then?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Some ponies have come by to warn us,” Thorax said. “A few farmers, mostly Earth ponies, but it’s the salesponies who were most helpful, really.”
“The truffula boom and bust doesn’t get taught to farming ponies nowadays,” Grand Pear explained. “But it does get taught in economics. Sustainable farming means more than just protecting your crop and the land it grows on. You gotta be able to survive off it, too.”
Apple Bloom caught the hint. “Can’t farm the right way if you’re starving in the process.”
Grand Pear smiled. “Exactly.”
“So instead of selling thneeds for cheap and for everything, it’s more of seasonal thing and more specialised now,” Thorax said. “Grand Pear was a big help in getting us set up for that.”
“Oh, twas nothing. Simple business sense, anypony could’ve done it.”
“Wow.” Apple Bloom leaned in closer to the little fluffballs. “So y’all are selling treefluff from a tree that’s supposed to be extinct?”
“Yup,” Thorax replied. “A lot less than the ponies did, obviously, but we’ve worked out a way to farm the tufts without endangering the forest. Well, ponies did, I suppose. I just did the talking.”
Grand Pear nudged Apple Bloom. “That’ll be the next fella we talk to. We’ll be back in a bit, Thorax, after we finish our rounds.”
The two moved along, and Apple Bloom was still reeling. “Wow. Who’d have thought changelings would end up farming something that’s extinct?”
“It’s amazing how things turn out, sometimes. But they had some help. Speakin’ of which, here’s one of my suppliers.” They stopped in front of a stand with flowerpots that contained exactly the same fluffballs as on the truffula trees, except far smaller. “Apple Bloom, this is Fleet Star. He’s a professional grafter, one of the few Unicorns in Equestria that can do it. He’s also got a tree nursery near the border.”
Fleet Star was a light green Unicorn with the same rugged build as Shining Armour, and a wizardly beard to go along with it. He looked older, though, around Mister Cake’s age, at least.
“A tree nursery? Oh, I get it. Like for endangered trees. Those truffulas, you mean. You grow those?”
“Sort of,” Fleet replied. “I take the tops off some of the trees and graft them to different roots, makes them easier to grow and manage. Same as apple and pear trees.”
She shook her head. “What?”
“You didn’t know? I suppose you’re a bit young to have had that lesson yet. Grafting’s really important when it comes to fruit trees. It’s actually rare to have a tree standing on its own roots. Your Zap Apples are an exception there, but everything else is mixed.”
She snorted mischievously. “You know, grandpa, if you wanted me to learn about having pear roots and apple fruits, you didn’t need to be that roundabout about it.”
Fleet Star let out a hearty laugh and clapped his hooves. “Haha! Oh, you weren’t kidding, Captain Cork, she is a smart one.”
“That she is," Grand Pear replied. "And gettin’ smarter by the second.”
“Captain Cork?” Apple Bloom asked.
“An unfortunate nickname I got during a few boating expeditions,” he explained. “Where’s your old boss, Fleet? I thought Bones McColt wouldn’t miss this for the world. Don’t tell me he’s got the Feather Flu again?”
“Not this time, no. The EEA is on his case again about his choice in students,” Fleet said.
Grand Pear grunted. “Don’t tell me: the Unicorn thing again?”
“The Unicorn thing again. Can’t teach Unicorns if you don’t have the proper certification, and the proper certification isn’t easy to get. Rotten shame, too,” the grafter said. “It’s hard enough finding other Unicorns who want to grow things as it is, let alone ones with a talent for it. But no, the EEA still wants them all in the Royal Guard, so…”
This sounded like a very grownup and mature thing to be talking about. So naturally, Apple Bloom felt the need to pipe in and impress her grandfather some more. “Well, we do kinda need wizards for the Royal Guard. At least a few.”
“Sure, sure, not denying you need some.” Fleet Star leaned in closer so he could look at her more clearly. ”But not every Unicorn wants to be a wizard, is the thing, and not every wizard makes a good Royal Guard. Matter of fact, they’ve been upping the wizard ranks for years now, decades, and it’s only made them weaker for some reason. Besides, the EEA has no business telling ponies where to send their kids, anyhow.” He turned to Grand Pear.
Grand Pear grumbled in agreement. “Given where they usually send the youngins, no.”
Apple Bloom’s ears perked, and she got the distinct impression all this grownup talk was going over her head. That just wouldn’t do. “And where might that be?”
“Canterlot, of course,” Fleet replied. “Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the Royal Guard Junior Prep Academy, the Star Swirl School for Struggling Spellslingers, magic schools pop up like cabbages in that town, and the EEA keeps finding ways to fill them.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Apple Bloom said.
“If you’re up for it, no,” Grand Pear said. “But nowadays Canterlot is so hyped up there’s not a single Unicorn willing to let their foals study magic anywhere else.”
“Or to let them study anything but magic, for that matter,” said the grafter. “It’s easier, they’ll say, and fairer to the other students who have to do everything by hoof. Easier on the faculty, maybe. Unicorn craftsponies are gonna be endangered soon if the EEA gets their way. Unicorn farmers already are, thanks to Poppyhock’s propaganda machine. Did you hear she’s trying to ditch her son in Canterlot? After everything she did, after making such a spectacle of her divorce, that’s how she treats her own flesh and blood.”
“Perhaps,” Grand Pear nodded slowly, pensively. “But still, the EEA seems happy with her, and it’s not like either of us can do anything about it.”
Apple Bloom felt a shiver run up her spine. “Umm, excuse me, but this is just that mare from before, right? That mare’s in the EEA? She’s the reason Hall 3 was full of health food shams? I thought Chancellor Neighsay was in charge of that?”
“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know, sorry,” Fleet replied. “Yes, Poppyhock is in charge of the farmers’ education in Equestria. All three major branches have their own head, Neighsay’s more of an overseer. And I hear he’s mellowed out lately, at least a little.”
Apple Bloom scrunched her nose. “Umm, no offence, but isn’t she a Unicorn?”
“Does that matter?” Fleet asked.
“It sure sounds like it’s matterin’ to her.”
He chuckled again. “Yes, Poppy… she’s more of a traditionalist. Likes everyone to have their place and stay there, you understand. She started this boom in health foods because of some misguided attempt to make everypony stronger by having everyone follow her standards, never mind whether those standards are even worth following. Besides that, she’s obsessed with getting Unicorns to become wizards, regardless of what they want, or what they can do. At least the Pegasi in the EEA still let their children do sports on the ground, Poppy’s tried to ban little Unicorns from everything that’s non-magical. Her son’s just another pony to be put in a box, and his box is gonna be in Canterlot, apparently, in the Royal Guard. I tell ya, any other pony in Canterlot would get banished over what she’s trying to pull, but she gets rewarded for it. I honestly feel sorry for the kid.”
Grand Pear closed his eyes and shrugged. “He’s still young, he can make his own choices when he’s older. And he could always find a good teacher outside of Canterlot. You did.”
Fleet Star snorted, leaning on one arm. “Good luck to him, then. Even if you could find a regular teacher like Mister McColt, that doesn’t teach you the magic side of it, except maybe the watering part. Took me five years to find a certified instructor, and I had to go abroad for that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to learn magic from an elephant? They’re the worst teachers you could have: they never forget a mistake you make, and they never let you forget it, either. Unicorn magic is finicky when it comes to farming, you know that. Only a master wizard of the fifth branch can teach that kind of thing, and none of the ones in Canterlot ever get past third. There’s a reason Princess Celestia still uses growth magic as her entrance test.”
Apple Bloom felt her heart sink. Growth magic. Twilight’s entrance exam. String Bean’s talent is literally passing the entrance exam to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. “So, umm, Poppy’s son, I don’t suppose he’s about my age? And, oh, I don’t know, light green, kinda tall, slender arms?”
“String bean arms, that’s him.” The grafter nodded. “She named him that when he was born, too: String Bean. Goes to show how much she was expecting out of him. He’ll probably end up on the recruitment posters soon.”
“And she wants him to be a Royal Guard?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Yup,” Grand Pear replied. “It’s one of those Canterlot public secrets.”
“But he’s my age,” she noted. “You can’t put a boy like that in the Royal Guard.”
Fleet Star’s ears fell back. “No, but you’d be surprised what you can do with a boy like that. Junior drill camp, wizard Sunday school...”
“Don’t forget the Rangers,” Grand Pear added. “And after-school counselling for talented Unicorns. That is, if he doesn’t manage to get under Princess Celestia’s roof, which he probably will. Not to mention all the coaches with connections.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve had to cast shield spells on my nephew to get those ponies off his back.” Fleet Star said, before turning back to Apple Bloom. “See, little girl, you can’t force a pony to become a Royal Guard, that’s true. But you can put them on the road to Canterlot. That’s what they do with colts who do show promise, who have what it takes to be wizard in the Guard. But if they don’t, you can still nudge them. You can nudge them a lot. And if you do it enough, they’ll keep walking to Canterlot, until they can’t see any other roads anymore. You don’t have to nudge a pony with blinders on, you see, they’ll walk where you want’em regardless.”
Apple Bloom shivered. “Sounds like you’re speakin’ from experience, Mister.”
“That’s because I am, and your grandfather knows it. I was on that road for quite a while when I was little, and I almost went through to become a Royal Guard myself. Almost.” He looked at Grand Pear then.
Apple Bloom felt her heart skip a beat. “What changed?”
“I got an apprenticeship, after somepony put in a good word for me. No one ever told me who it was or why, exactly, but I can only suspect it was someone who’d seen what happens when ponies are pushed too far the wrong way. Not that that gives us any clues.”
“Yes, it is a quite a mystery,” Grand Pear remarked. “And our community is so very tight-lipped about its secrets and connections, I fear we may never know your benefactor. But still, we’re all happy to have a Unicorn who can graft. Most Earth ponies think twice the first time they get tentacles.”
Apple Bloom got the message, and its implication.
Someone who’s seen what happens when ponies are pushed too far the wrong way. Like my mom. Gosh, how many years has he been coming here, waiting for Granny Smith to show up again, or my dad? Did he really push them that hard?
Did I? String Bean’s been getting pushed, I guess, but I didn’t know that.
So this whole time he’s been wanting to be a farmer because his mother wants him to join the Royal Guard? That’s why he doesn’t want to grow trees? Because his mom doesn’t approve? Because the EEA doesn’t want Unicorns to be doing Earth pony things?
It makes sense, I guess. He doesn’t want to be a wizard because being a wizard means being a Royal Guard.
Well, worse, if you think about it, really. Being a wizard means not having any choice. Not having any fun.
But that doesn’t mean anything, all I’ve been trying to tell him is… oh, no.
Apple Bloom gulped. “Umm, Grand Pear? About puttin’ in good words and pushing ponies the wrong way, do you think I could talk to you somewhere in private?”
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Liked the bit with the Yaks, that was nice and very in character for them. The idea that while yaks smash, smashing isn't random or wild, but exact and controlled, is a good one. I bet there might be a minor language issue where they have lots of different words for degrees and types of smashing (you know, the old 50 different words for snow myth), but as there is only one word for it in ponish, it all ends up sounding the same.
I think Apple Bloom's growing realization of what the truth of String Bean situation is was handled really well. I was worried that the fact the he was obviously Poppyhock kid would be played as a big reveal, but having her quickly put it together relieved that. It's going to be interesting to see what solution she comes up with.
Scootalloo wears socks?
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When cheerleading, sure. Gotta make absolutely certain the outfits don't spontaneously explode in the middle of the routine, after all...
It's at the end that things need to explode, for a big finale.
9676564
The yaks were fun to write, glad it worked. With regards to Poppyhock, there's always a fine balance of managing expectations like that, and subverting them where appropriate. String Bean's family situation is one such example.
Oh, and on a more random note: yes, Mister Sock will be in the last chapter, and he will be pointy-eared and logical. I'm already this far down with the Star Trek references, might as well.