The True Meaning of Hearth's Warming
"I'm so excited to see you, Pinkie Pie. You too, Applejack." I greet Pinkie and the Apples at the train station. In a sense I'm not even lying. Their arrival means that the Hearth's Warming celebrations can start, and I have been looking forward to my first real Hearth's Warming. I know this holiday is important; my memories of my fake past make that clear. However, they don't tell me why; every explanation of the significance that I've remembered assumes a shared racial and cultural background that I still partially lack. Now that I can experience Hearth's Warming while paying attention to the parts that ponies take for granted I know I can fill in those gaps.
In the moment, though, I should practice my small talk. I know that ponies like it when you show interest in their recent activities, and it's obvious that Applejack was in the mountains recently, so I say "I hope you had fun sledding yesterday."
Applejack seems to be surprised that I know this, so I explain that there are flecks of andesite on her hooves. Doesn't she know that there's no andesite anywhere around here—there's hardly any igneous rocks at all—outside of the mountains? How would she even expect the volcanism required for an extrusive igneous rock to have arisen in a lowland area? I could have told her that would be ridiculous within my first couple of weeks at school.
After this, the small talk moves on; first Pinkie asks me how school is going (I'm excelling) and then she tells me about what's been happening in Ponyville as we walk back to the farm. I'm only half listening as she describes the parties she threw for a donkey's wedding, yak royalty, and some group called the "Cutie Mark Crusaders," as well as several parties she describes as "less important but still super-duper spectacular like every party should be." However, she gets my full attention when she tells me about finding out that Cadance is pregnant and struggling to keep it a secret so that Cadance and Shining Armor could surprise Twilight with the announcement.
I don't even understand what I'm hearing. Remoras don't get pregnant. We don't reproduce at all inside of universes. I ask a few questions, careful not to indicate why I'm asking, and determine that Cadance isn't visibly pregnant; she and Shining Armor just say they're having a foal. So they're simply lying; I can at least understand how they're doing that. But why would they announce something like that when they have no way to follow through? I knew they were reckless, but this is beyond anything I would expect even from them.
And of course the Elders aren't going to do anything about it. No matter how brazen those two get, the Elders never do anything. I'd almost want to stop them myself if I had any way to do that, even if it would just serve to get me in more trouble with the Elders. Because between us I'd be the one who crossed a line, right? We can't have any remora holding those two to the same standards the rest of us live by.
My fuming is interrupted when we get to the farm and start introductions between the Apples and the Pies. When Pinkie climbs on top of Holder's Boulder—which, as always, draws an admonishment from Limestone not to touch Holder's Boulder—to announce that we'll start Hearth's Warming Eve dinner as soon as the Apples get settled in, it reminds me that this trip isn't about Cadance and Shining Armor. This trip is about me. It's time for me to learn what drives ponies to celebrate holidays such as this every year. I need to focus on that, not on what those two get away with.
As the Apples drop their luggage off in the guest room, we gather for the first tradition: communal consumption of rock soup. I consider what I know about Hearth's Warming for clues about why this is important. Ponies like to reenact the past, as I understand it, due to their inability to actually go there, and the story of the first Hearth's Warming is repeated almost every year; perhaps we are reenacting some element of that. Given ponies' obsession with a linear view of time, it would likely be something from the beginning of the story specifically. Perhaps we are reenacting the famine that forced the three tribes to seek a new home? Rock soup might be something desperate ponies would try to eat when they ran out of actual food.
Yes, that seems like a good working theory. Before finding Equestria the three tribes were starving and were forced to eat things they wouldn't normally consider food, so we similarly eat rock soup.
"What about hot rolls and mulled cider and double-baked pot pie?" Applejack asks as she enters the room and sees our meal.
"What about six-layer bean dip?" Granny Smith adds.
"We have rock soup," I point out. Didn't they want rock soup? I know ponies have imperfect memories, so slight mutations in the holiday are to be expected, but surely that shouldn't produce such large differences. Surely the reason for this meal isn't so broad that it would fit such disparate foods.
After being corrected, though, the Apples agree that rock soup was what they were expecting. They must have simply been confused, probably with another holiday entirely. I'm told that ponies prefer to pretend that large mistakes like that never happened, and indeed nopony talks about their mistake for the rest of the meal, so evidently my theory was correct. The rock soup commemorates famine, and foods like hot rolls would be entirely inappropriate for Hearth's Warming since they imply plentiful times.
After dinner it's time to carve our Hearth's Warming dolls. This can't be just another reenactment like the dinner; there is no precedent for stone-carving or toys in the Hearth's Warming story. It will be necessary to find a separate theory for this tradition, as the explanation for the dinner does not generalize here.
"Are you sayin' that rock is a Hearth's Warmin' doll?" It seems the Apples also find this tradition strange. This time they're not simply confused; even after Pinkie explains that the rocks in front of them are simply the raw material for carving the dolls, not the dolls themselves, the Apples still make it clear that they weren't expecting this. Even if they hadn't said anything, their actions would show that they've never done this before; their incompetence with their rock picks can only be explained by a complete lack of experience.
It's only once Applejack produces a doll that fails to even vaguely resemble a pony and asks whether we have crocheted dolls passed down in the family instead that it hits me: this is a symbolic display of skill. When the leaders of the three tribes left to find fertile lands in response to the famine, they must have brought entourages of skilled ponies to support them on the journey and to begin establishing the new homes they intended to found. They aren't mentioned in the traditional story, but logically they must have existed. So now ponies demonstrate their craftsponyship, or at least display something finely hoof-crafted even if they've drifted away from the reason for the tradition, as a reenactment of how ponies proved themselves worthy to join the search for a better land.
It's good for the Apples that this is only a reenactment, because they are not proving themselves worthy right now. Of course, if this were real the Apples would probably be relying on their actual agricultural skills instead of trying to carve these rocks. I didn't see much of their orchard, but I know they know how to grow apples.
The flag-finding mission could have been a problem; being divided into teams means I only have one pony to observe. However, I don't mind, since I've figured out how these Hearth's Warming traditions work now. I don't even need to observe anypony now. I already know what they'd show me; it's simple now that I see the pattern.
After the selection of ponies who would seek a fertile land came the search itself, and so that's why the next thing we do is search for an obsidian stone, which of course represents Equestria. And we search in separate teams and compete to find the stone first because at this point in the story ponies were still divided into tribes which were each searching separately for a new land to claim wholly for themselves. Presumably when this tradition started the team that first found the object representing Equestria would have been entitled to put up a flag representing them—as the tribes immediately did upon finding Equestria—which would remain up until the Equestrian flag replaced it in the morning, but at some point the two flag-raisings must have been consolidated together.
Carrying on the theme, after this we will end the day still symbolically divided so that tonight can represent the night in the cave during which the first bonds between the three tribes formed. Then in the morning we'll raise the Equestrian flag, representing the unification of the tribes, and after that we can look for presents that represent finding the natural bounties of Equestria.
As expected I don't win the right to raise the flag; Pinkie finds the obsidian, just like she does most years. I assume she magically cheats to always know where to look. If I cared about winning I imagine that would bother me.
Once she finds the rest of us to tell us the search is over, everypony else splits up to hide presents so there will be something to find in the morning. I don't have any presents, but I make sure nopony sees me for a while; letting the others assume that none of the presents I hid were found is simpler than preparing something to hide, but it only works if I take some time to hide my nonexistent presents.
Hiding presents is the final step of Hearth's Warming Eve, so once I finish pretending to do so I head to bed. Marble and Limestone are already there; this house is ill-suited to hold ten ponies, so tonight I need to share a bed with all three Pie sisters. Pinkie is, as always, the last one out hiding presents, so I take some time to check over my disguise while there's nopony around who could notice what I'm doing; given the mysteries around Pinkie's capabilities I cannot afford to make any mistakes in her presence. By the time Pinkie gets back I'm ready to go to sleep satisfied that my impersonation of a pony is both flawless and better-informed than ever.
In the morning I, like everypony else, am woken by Pinkie's excited cries that it's Hearth's Warming. Her voice echoes through the house as she ensures that everypony is perfectly clear about the date, but once she finishes spreading her message to every room and goes outside she suddenly falls silent. When I catch up I can guess why: the area in front of the house—and for that matter the house itself—has been festooned in giant candy canes, stars, ribbons, and colored globes, and all of it is glowing.
In the middle of it all is Applejack, who seems to believe this gaudy mess is a normal way to celebrate Hearth's Warming. She wants Marble to raise the Equestrian flag even though Marble hasn't earned that honor, and she's set up a flagpole for the purpose even though the flag is supposed to go on the highest point already available since the original settlers of Equestria wouldn't have had a proper flagpole available. She wants to cook a special meal even though the food-related part of the holiday has long since passed and repeating it would undermine its whole point. She wants us to open presents that are simply sitting out in the open as if looking for the presents isn't the whole point. None of this is at all appropriate for Hearth's Warming.
As Pinkie attempts to defend Applejack's actions—it seems she must care more about friendship than about being unambiguously wrong—and the rest of the Pies admonish her for throwing the holiday so far off track, I take a closer look at Applejack's work. I'm curious how she set up the various poles and stakes she's driven into the ground; the rock farm has only a thin layer of sandy soil over solid rock, so the poles would all need to extend into that rock to have any support. Setting that up is no minor task for a single pony working overnight in secrecy, even with earth pony strength.
Scraping away the dirt reveals the telltale cracks of stressed rock; rather than properly drilling holes to make space, she simply forced the poles into the ground without removing any material first. That would save time, and it's tolerable if one avoids areas with existing stresses, but I doubt Applejack knows rocks well enough to identify such areas. She may have narrowly avoided causing large-scale fracturing of the rock overnight and left areas that could fail due to the slightest additional disturbance, including the vibration of our hooves or thermal expansion from the dawn's light. If that is the case I would like to see the effect on the rock before it falls apart.
When I get to the flagpole I find what I was looking for. "Excuse me," I announce, "You planted your pole on a fault line."
Apparently I checked just in time, because at this point the ground begins to shake as the rock splits apart. The resulting crack spreads directly under Holder's Boulder, knocking it into the nearest quarry.
Naturally, this distresses the Pie family. Holder's Boulder is supposed to be lucky (even though it's clearly just a big mundane rock) and if just touching it might disturb its alleged luck then dropping it into a quarry must be far worse. Limestone cries out in emphatic denial as the rest of the Pies stare in silent horror. I think I see Marble even cry a little.
Needless to say Applejack and her family are no longer welcome to symbolically found Equestria with us. Pinkie continues trying to defend Applejack, assuring us that she didn't intend to ruin Hearth's Warming and sabotage the farm, but either nopony believes Pinkie or nopony cares if the damage was intentional. Even the Apples make no attempt to fight their expulsion from the farm; they simply go upstairs to pack.
I expected that the "Don't touch Holder's Boulder" rule ensured that it would remain where it fell, but as soon as the Apples leave Limestone begins urging us down into the quarry to roll it back up to its original location. If it is a lucky rock, wouldn't it work best if we avoid disturbing it any more than Applejack already did? And if it's just an ordinary boulder, or if falling broke its luck, why does it matter where it is?
"You want us to touch Holder's Boulder?" I check.
"Yes!" Limestone replies. Is she angry that I asked? She sounds the same as she always does. "We need to get it back to where it belongs, so yes, you can touch Holder's Boulder."
I still don't understand why she cares so much about moving Holder's Boulder out of the quarry, but it must make sense to the Pies since none of them are questioning it. Presumably if I were actually a Pie it would make sense to me too, so further questions could be suspicious. I follow the others into the quarry as I continue to think.
Is there some historical reason? It hasn't come up since I arrived in Equestria, but when I think farther back I can remember being told about Holder Cobblestone finding his eponymous boulder in a dragon's nest. He built the family farm around that spot, leaving the boulder exactly where he found it. That's the only history I know about Holder's Boulder, but it seems like another reason not to deliberately move the boulder. Is history not as important to ponies as I was lead to believe? Is there some other reason that they do things that serve no current utility?
Have I not figured out ponies as well as I think I have?
While I think further we begin rolling Holder's Boulder. Moving it across the flat quarry floor is relatively easy with all six of us pushing, but progress stops once we reach the ramp out. Every time we manage to move the boulder up the ramp a couple inches we swiftly tire and it rolls back. We push as hard as we can but we cannot overcome gravity.
That's a lie. They push as hard as they can. I only push as hard as an earth pony should be able to. I don't know the limits of what I could do if I were willing to make it obvious that I'm not a pony; no remora ever told me about the extent of what I can do while telling me about the extent of what I should do, and even when I was newly arrived and reckless I never dared to go far enough to find any limit. I could push Holder's Boulder up this ramp alone, or even carry it straight up the wall if I manifested limbs more suited for climbing. I could get it out of the quarry in seconds if I wanted to remove all doubt about whether I'm a pony. And then I could flee this universe before some clever pony figures out how to capture remoras. That way, instead of being a test subject, I could be the remora who ruined Equestria for everyone. I could be universally hated. I could be condemned by the Elders to never again be allowed into any universe and to slowly fade away.
I would rather claim that I'm pushing as hard as I can too.
Because I'm not actually straining to move Holder's Boulder, I am the only one with her eyes open when the Apples come down into the quarry. I don't know if they're even trying to be stealthy, but the Pies are so focused on pushing that they don't notice the Apples walking past us. I pretend that I was also too focused on pushing to see them, although I want to turn around and see what the Apples are even doing back here. Whatever they do for the next few minutes, they do it quietly.
"Rrrgh, it's hopeless!" Limestone finally gives up, giving tacit permission for the rest of us to stop pushing as well. I don't understand why it took so long; it has been clear this whole time that no amount of trying the same thing was going to change the result. I won't get tired from the pushing like I suspect the Pies already are, but I still prefer not to waste my time on such pointless tasks.
"Need a little help?" Applejack finally announces her presence. All the Pies turn around; they seem to be surprised as expected. After a moment I remember to copy them.
"What do you want?" Limestone demands.
"I wasn't tryin' to take your traditions away, I was tryin' to share ours," Applejack explains. "I was so focused on us bein' one big happy family, I thought we needed the same traditions right away. What I should've done was learn about yours and teach you about ours. And over time, we'd make new traditions together. I'm sorry, y'all."
Everypony looks at Limestone. Whatever the rest of the Pies think about that apology, Limestone's is the opinion that matters; disagreeing with her is more trouble than it's worth.
"Well, don't just stand there! We got a boulder to move!" Limestone smiles. Is she actually happy to see the Apples now? Even assuming that helping to push Holder's Boulder makes up for knocking it down, there's still the rest of the mess that Applejack made. Shouldn't Limestone still be angry until the Apples clean that up as well? Isn't that reasonable?
Sometimes I fear I may never fully understand ponies.
"I think we've just invented our first combined tradition! Pushing Holder's Boulder out of the quarry!" Pinkie declares. "I can't wait for Applejack to knock it over next Hearth's Warming!" And everypony laughs as if they have forgotten how unpleasant that event just was.
I definitely will never fully understand ponies.
Perhaps, though, there is information here that I can use. Both Pinkie and Applejack referred to traditions specific to small groups and to making new traditions now or in the near future. Did I have it backwards to think that traditions were monolithic, ancient-by-pony-standard entities? If Pinkie's suggestion is representative, then traditions would simply be arbitrary events that are repeated by whoever was originally present.
Except that would be too restrictive; I know the youngest generation of Pies was not present when the current Pie family Hearth's Warming traditions started, or I would remember it. Perhaps being taught about the tradition can fill in for the original event for those who were not present, allowing the tradition to be passed down without any direct connection to however it started? That would still allow for traditions to vary between families without requiring entirely new traditions each generation.
That would imply that I've been asking the wrong questions. It doesn't matter how traditions started; it only matters why they get repeated. And that implies that once a tradition gets established there isn't really anything to drive that repetition other than the repetition itself.
Wait, if the repetition of traditions is more important than their origins, does that mean that Hearth's Warming is important simply because Hearth's Warming is important? What an unsatisfying answer. This must be what it feels like to regret asking.
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> What an unsatisfying answer. This must be what it feels like to regret asking.
Perfect ending for the chapter. Maud learned something important. :)
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I'm glad the ending works. I was a little worried I was going to turn out to be the only one who likes it.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Lovely stuff. I'm always a sucker for xenofiction, and seeing Maud playing a baffled eldritch anthropologist was a particular delight. Thank you for it.
And I can only imagine her reaction when she hears about Flurry Heart...
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A big part of planning this story was figuring out how to sensibly fit everything that's happened since 2014 into the framework I initially established. In some places I got lucky (e.g. predicting Maud's stand-up comedy hobby), but others taught me surprising things about the world I was building in order to reconcile them.
More? Is nice
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I have many plans . . . and considerable procrastination . . . so more, eventually, I swear.