The Sour Grapes Chronicles

by The Incredible Werekitty

The Winter of Our Content

There was a little sadness at seeing one of the group leave, but Grapes was certain that Queenie would only be gone a few weeks at best. She knew her duties in her homeland were important and if anyone had an overpowering sense of duty… it was Queenie.

Everypony got back to doing those last few chores in preparation for the first snowfall. Nothing too earth shattering but important nonetheless. One pony had a little more to do than chores though. She entered her dining room where a particular nocturnal colt was taking advantage of the unused table and the excellent lighting from the oil lamp in the middle. He had a few textbooks open, apparently cross-referencing some information into the scribbler before him.

“Huh… so the main export of Equestria ISN’T apples. I did not know that.”

“Really? So what is it then?”

“Well, according to Miss Cheerilee’s books, it’s Wheat. If they had’ve asked me before I left the Cove, I’d have guessed Cabbage… they grow a lot of it at the town. That and Garlic for some reason.”

“Sound like this town is in Germaney. They’re big on sauerkraut, up there,” Grapes said, thoughtfully. “And they use garlic in a lot of their dishes, especially sausage. Hmmm… Nothing like a good garlic and oat sausage. Have to remove the paper casing, though.” Grapes tried to keep the opinion that garlic was supposedly a repellant for vamponies to herself. She really didn't like pointing out the many myths about his tribe more than necessary.

“It also says here that another lu… luke-rah-tive… lucrative export is trained weather ponies,” Earshot continued, sounding out an unfamiliar word.

“Lucrative, adjective, synonym for profitable. Profitable, adjective, an item or activity that makes money,” Grapes said, absently.

“Huh. Good to know.” he nodded before putting his pencil down. “I wonder what my people would bring to the table if...um… when we come back. Other than pest-control.”

“Twenty-four hour business for one thing,” Grapes posited, “including nocturnal weather manipulation. Would be nifty if all the necessary rainfall happened at night, after most ponies have gone to sleep.”

“Oh… um… My kin, we… can’t manipulate weather.” he said quietly.

“Oh? Sorry, I just assumed, because you’re a subspecies of pegasi,” Grapes said apologetically.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Only a few of us even have the talent to manipulate air, like my sister Lightning Stripe. She’s one of our Air-pushers and actually heads up the team in Fresh Air shaft number 17.” Earshot seemed to speak about his sister with more than a little pride, before growing quiet again. “I don’t know if this is another thing we forgot how to do, or if we just… LOST the talent altogether. Heck, if I hadn’t have joined the Storm-Riders I wouldn’t have ever found out that I can walk on clouds.”

“It could be… Just lying dormant,” Grapes observed. “It’s a part of a pegasus’ innate magics, like walking on clouds. If you can still walk on clouds, you can probably still manipulate weather, which… seems to involve a lot of cloud manipulation. Your people would just need to learn what to do, just like any other weather-team trainee.”

“You might be right. I always just… I dunno… assumed that there was some kind of trade-off for us. Better at life after dusk in exchange for the really neat stuff. I wonder if the others would be willing to teach me some basics.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” Grapes said, with a shrug. “Anyway, if you had any trade-offs, I would say it would be your appearance. If you had the innate magics that make you a pegasus taken away, you wouldn’t be able to fly, so instead, you look really different. Tribal magic, i. e. the magic that makes a particular pony of one specific tribe, is pretty much a package deal. I only have the ability to call upon two different types because I’m half Earth Pony and half Unicorn. If I chose one over the other, the one not chosen would atrophy until I can’t use it at all. True some ponies may be better at a specific part of their special tribal abilities than others but that’s natural talent playing into the mix.”

“It would be nice to do some stuff like daylight Pegasai. It’s certainly be something to write home about… OOH! that reminds me!”

“You need to write home?” Grapes said as she rummaged in her pantry for something.
“Oh good, I still have some. This talk about sausage made me want some. I think I’ll make my Aunt Muscadine’s jambalaya.”

“That sounds pretty good actually. Then again almost everything edible out here I’ve tried does. But I really should write down today’s schoolyard events while they’re fresh in my head.” Earshot found a blank piece of paper and got his pencil out once more.

“Oh, I do all right. For a real taste of New Bléleans, you need my Aunt Muscadine to cook it herself…” Grapes said as she pulled out some oat sausage. “Even going to write about you being bullied by those two pains in the flank? And would you like a quill?”

“Oh… you heard about that.” he said quietly. “And yes please. A quill would be nice.”

“This is a small town, Earshot,” Grapes said, going into the other room, and coming back with a quill and ink. “You don’t need super-hearing to find out about what’s going on.”

“Well, I guess I should write that in. It doesn’t make much sense if I don’t tell the ponies at home the bad along with the good. Right?”

“True. It helps them to know that the ponies out here, are pretty much like those back home: Some good some bad, some okay, some you’d rather not talk to. Seriously, you’re ponies. Different ponies, but ponies.”

Earshot took the quill in between his hooves and gingerly dipped the tip and began to work it across the paper in the curious script she had by now come to understand as the Night Pony written language. She still wondered what it would sound like if they tried playing it on her piano as if it were the sheet music it resembled.

“Dear Grandmother Moonlight Sonata. Today has been another interesting day for me. Not only did I survive my first Nightmare Night, but I found out that there can be too much of a good thing. I recommend that if candy becomes plentiful to our kind, that we show a little self restraint and not just eat a whole Pillowcase full at one sitting… no matter how delicious.”

He gave Grapes an apologetic look before continuing.

“Learned your lesson the hard way, didn’t you?” Grapes asked, as she carefully sliced the oat sausage into even pieces. “Just hope you keep that in mind, when Hearth’s Warming comes around.”

“There’s candy on Hearth’s Warming too?”

“Yes,” Grapes replied. “Never mind all of the other treats, as well. Hot chocolate, cake, Hearth’s Warming cookies, pie…”

“Sounds a little like Long-Dark… Although our treats aren’t quite as amazing as the ones out here. They are, tasty and certainly life isn’t the same without them.”

“Fascinating. You don’t talk much about the holidays and traditions of your home enough, Earshot,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “See if you can get permission, would you? I would love to learn about them.”

“You’d really be interested in hearing about that? I know I was given permission to spend time here during the winter months to learn about yours but I never thought you’d want to hear more about mine.”

“You’re a new and interesting sort of pony who comes from a place that is different, yet rich with traditions,” Grapes responded. “Why wouldn’t I want to learn about that? And, no, because you’re different isn’t a valid answer. It just sounds fascinating.”

He looked back down at his letter and continued to write.

“A long day and a late night in addition to way too much candy didn’t make me very… um… nice when Miss Grapes came to wake me for school. But she got me up and fed and ready, and Mister Squall got me a neat little tin box with a handle for my lunch. If I can find more lunch boxes I might be able to send some to you for Long-Dark gifts. I’m certain that Max should be able to make more on his anvil if you give him one. He’d good with stuff like that.

Miss Cheerilee is one of the nicest ponies I’ve met out here. She’s kind, smart, patient… very patient and if she doesn’t know something she’s not afraid to look to another source of knowledge for an answer. In short she is a VERY good mentor.”

“You mean Teacher. And she’s very patient with the terrible trio,” Grapes quipped, cheerfully. “But now you know just why everypony loves sending their kids to her.”

“Trio? But I only saw Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Please don’t tell me there’s one more in their group.”

“I wasn’t talking about the twin terrors,” Grapes replied. “I was talking about three little fillies who are really intent upon getting their cutie marks”

“Oh! Them. Uhm, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and… S-Sweetiebelle don’t seem that bad to me.”

“No, they’re not bad, per se, but… Oh boy the damage they can do,” Grapes uttered, then blinked, and grinned. “You like Sweetiebelle, hm?”

“Uh… what? Well I meant yeah. She’s nice and she and her friends helped me…” He stopped and his head turned abruptly to the east, his ears perking up and wings suddenly *POOMPHING* open. “...and she sings really nice.”

“Yes, yes she does…Bet you’re listening to her right now. But I don’t think her just being nice, and a good singer would make your wings do that,” Grapes responded, with a grin. “Wow. Your first crush. You’re growing up so fast.”

“I’m not crushing anything. Honest! I just…” he looked back at his wings and blinked before struggling to fold them up again “This… what is… Nnnnnff! This is -SO- strange. Rrrrrr! What’s going on with my wings?”

“What do Night-Ponies call it when a young filly or colt develops a strong affection for another?” Grapes asked.

“Uh… I dunno. Marriage?”

“At your age? I said young filly or colt, well before marriage age.”

“Oh! Um… That you REALLY like somepony? That you get all melty-eared? Act goofy? Sorry, but I’ve been a little… on the go for a few years now.”

“‘Melty-eared’?” Grapes asked, giggling.

“Well… yeah. You know how when some ponies look at one another and they just seem to… relax everything?” He demonstrated with his ears slowly lowering in a manner that reminded Grapes of very soft wax candles slowly collapsing under their own weight on a hot summer day. “Kinda like that.”

“Oh that’s cute,” Grapes giggled. “Well… Up here, when a pony develops feelings for another, it’s a crush. Not sure why, honestly, but it can go unrequited, but just seeing them, or in your case hearing them, makes you react.”

“OH! So… I have a crush on Squeekiebelle? I mean Sweetiebelle?” Grapes blinked, then started giggling.

“‘Squeekiebelle?” Grapes asked still giggling. “Oh… wow… Squeekiebelle… Because she does squeak on certain words, doesn’t she?”

“Oh yes! It’s so… I dunno… I like how it sounds. And how she sings. I’ve heard her before but never knew who it was singing until now.”

“Well now you know. You’re going to ask about that cultural exchange, right?”

“Oh YES, Miss Grapes! Right after I describe the rest of my day… I think I’ll send them a bag of my candy too. I don’t need three bags full… not if I’m going to ration them out for the winter.”

He thought about it a moment and then dipping for a little more ink, put his pen to paper once more, and once again voicing his thoughts.

“I found out there were six other ponies in my after-class class. First was Brass Horn. She’s a unicorn with a talent for playing musical instruments you need lungs to play. All the
musicians are in the busy season so nopony can take her under their wing… so to speak. So she’s in Miss Cheerilee’s class to kill time and learn a little more. Then there’s Stonewall… he’s funny. Good earthy sense of humor and he’s also an Earth Pony. I actually met him last night, he was also in a Night Pony costume… although took me a while to explain what Night Ponies were really like. He really thinks we say “Bleh Bleh Bleh” a lot. I don’t even know where that comes from.”

“Er… Me neither, honestly. It’s weird. I think it may have had to do with one famous actor’s accent, when he played a vampony in the movies,” Grapes observed, as she chopped onions and bell peppers.. “When he said ‘blood’, he sounded like he was saying ‘bleh.”

“Movies… something else I have yet to experience properly. Somehow I think it’s not the same as when we review footage of our flight exercises with Lady Weathervain.”

“I’ll check the paper for a good feature we can check out, this weekend,” Grapes mused, as she started sauteeing the onions and peppers.

“Anyways he had no problem with me being a real Night Pony. He says it’s really cool. Skyhook on the other hoof has a problem with me. Thinks I’m ‘weird’ and maybe should ‘crawl back under my rock’, but the others explain she doesn’t really mean it. Not in any personal way anyways. She’s just angry because she’s very tribalist and her parents sent her here to learn how to get along with everypony else. They put this special collar on her that if she flies over 50 feet high in the air… she gets a shock. The longer she stays above that the worse it gets, so… it’s understandable she’s cranky.”

“I’d be cranky too, if they put something they save for class A prisoners in Altai-Traz on me,” Grapes said, distractedly, as she browned flour, then slowly added water to it. “Hope everypony’s hungry. This recipe makes a lot. And now to let this simmer, and I’ll get some rice started.”

“Really? Prisoners? Wow. I’m gonna make a hoof-note here on that.”

“Not quite sure how the kid got so tribalist if his parents were the ones to send him here, though, “Grapes observed. “Usually such opinions are passed from parent to foal… Apparently not in this case.”

“Apparently she was getting it from some gang of pegasi she knew up in Cloudsdale. The Down-Lookers or something. Anyways…” he began to write once more. “Her parents hope she’ll grow out of it when she sees other tribes have so much in common with Pegasi. I just hope she includes Night Ponies in that attitude as well.”

“Be sure to include that in your letter, too,” Grapes observed as she checked the rice. The kitchen was beginning to smell wonderful.

“I will. ...The other three ponies are very good, close friends. So close you would think they were related, if it weren’t for the fact they were an Earth Pony, a Unicorn and a Pegasus. Lock, Stock and Barrel are to me a good example of what Skyhook needs to see about us. That once you take away everything that’s different about us, wings, horns and whatnot… then we would realise there’s nothing really keeping us from liking or disliking one another on just our… our CHARACTER alone. ...does that sound right to you Miss Grapes, or did I miss the point?”

“I think you missed the point,” Grapes said, as she fluffed the rice, and put it into a container to keep warm. “What you mean to say, I think, is there’s no reason to base one’s like or dislike of a pony upon tribe alone, and just because one tribe has abilities and talents that the others can not do as well, or even at all without some manner of mechanical or magical assistance doesn’t make any one tribe better or worse than another. Just different.”

“That sounds a lot better than I worded it. Sometimes things never sound as good on paper or out loud than it did in your head.” He ran a line through what he had previously wrote and jotted down what Sour Grapes had summed up. “ Anyways, Lock Stock and Barrel are good ponies and really funny.”

“And dinner’s almost ready. Grab the tobasco would you, hon?”

“Oh. Sure thing, Miss Grapes.” Earshot laid the pen down and went to the pantry where he located and retrieved the necessary bottle. “That smells really good.”

“Thanks. I tried to stay as true to Aunt Muscadine’s recipe as I could,” Grapes replied.

“So, Miss Cheerilee taught us some stuff about the economy of Equestria today, and when we broke for a lunch break I met some ponies who were less than nice to me. Two fillies younger than me named Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. They had my lunchbox and were eating my cookies. I tried to be nice but, they didn’t seem to really… respond to it. So I complimented their good taste, because you know, they were eating my chocolate weevil cookies. I’m guessing they have delicate stomachs because they got very sick and ran away.”

“A wise stallion once said: ‘A coward flees when no one pursues’,” Grapes said, stirring the dish, and checking the rice.

“OOh… that’s a good one. Yeah I can get that.” he wrote it down. “And the rest of the day at school went very well. And to think I almost didn’t go to school today. I got scared at the whole thing. It’s silly I know… I’ve been in every kind of storm imaginable… and a few that are very UNimaginable, first to walk in the sun in over a thousand years, looked the Princess who banished Luna in the eye… but the idea of my first day in school…” he blushed and sighed “I felt rooted to the spot if it weren’t for Applebloom, Scootaloo and Sweetiebelle. They told me it was… normal. And knowing I was having a normal feeling made me feel better about it. Is that strange?”

“Not at all. You got advice from voices of experience, and they helped you get over your nerves,” Grapes replied. “Everypony’s gone through first-day jitters. Even me.”

“Really? But you’re so… what’s the saying? Level-headed. Nothing really seems to rattle you.”

“Yes, but that’s because I’ve got experience. I was a foal, too, once upon a time,” Grapes replied with a chuckle. “Hard to believe, huh? If my parents come by for Hearth’s Warming, you’ll get proof. Lots and lots of proof.”

“It’s kinda hard to imagine you as young as me.” he admitted. “Your glasses musta been hyooge.”

“Thankfully they made glasses in foal sizes, back then, too,” Grapes deadpanned. “I’d have looked like an owl, otherwize. Almost done? Dinner’s ready, and we need to get the jambalaya and rice to the table.”

“Almost. Um, yeah…. here I am. So I’m a normal foal in yet one MORE way. After I got home I was able to say goodbye to Queenie as she headed back to her home to help out there for a couple’a weeks. You remember I told you all about her duties back home… anyways they let me try a little wine to toast her and we said our goodbyes. Now I’m here writing this while miss Grapes is making a dinner. It smells really nice.” He paused a moment then nodded. “Oh! Before I forget. Seeing as I’m here to learn about Hearth’s Warming, Miss Grapes said she’d like to learn about Long-Dark. If it’s ok with you and the Dark Council I’d really like to show them our winter party. Please? As ever, your loving grandson, Earshot.”

Grapes smiled, and went and got her Stormy-feather quill, and brought a couple more pieces of paper. The first one, she wrote down “Muscadine Grapes’ Famous New Bléleans Jambalaya”, and the recipe, with detailed instructions on how to make it. The second, she jotted down a note. “Dear Milady Moonlight Sonata, If you haven’t guessed, by now, this is
Sour Grapes. First of all I thought you’d enjoy my Aunt Muscadine’s jambalaya recipe. Second is to reiterate what Earshot said in his letter. I would, truly, wish to learn about your winter celebration. It seems fair, at least to me, to have this cultural exchange be a full one as possible, as well as give Earshot a taste of home. All in all he’s been a joy to have as both an employee, and as a guest, and I’m sure he’d enjoy sharing some of his home’s specialities - sans the ‘extra’ ingredients - with his friends and adopted family. Sincerely, Sour Grapes.” Grapes folded both missives up, and hoofed them to Earshot.

“Here. Thought I’d add my two coppers, and share a recipe.”

“Oh! That’s really nice of you, miss Grapes. Not many daylighters have written my home. Just the Storm Riders and regular corr… corres… letters from Lady Weathervain.”

“Correspondence,” Grapes said with a grin. “May go and pick up some spices, too… They may not have the right ones to get the taste just so. May as well send ‘em a little piece of Hearth’s Warming back. Spices, recipes, cookies…”

“OH! That’s a WONDERFUL idea! I think I can get a nice box for that from the Pony Express office. Thank you very much miss Grapes.”

“Well if we’re going to have a cultural exchange, we may as well do it right,” Grapes said with a wink. “And we’ll do our shopping this weekend, after the matinee at the movies. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to get out my coin sock.”

“I’m helping with the expenses, Earshot. Anything personal, you can buy, but we’re doing this up right. I want a cultural exchange, and I’m not going to stint on my end…. Say, how many families are down there? Can get a box of cards, and send Hearth’s Warming greetings from Grapevine Hills to them all..”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even though almost everything was ready for the winter snowfall, Grapes still had a few fiddly things to do before hand. Stuff like making sure the rain barrels on the property were empty so they wouldn’t burst when they froze, or make certain the old copper shed was closed up tight for the winter. The barn was in good condition, no errant cracks to let snow drift in, although the impromptu guest within was more comfortable with the doors wide open.

The Kapre had proven a very good guest, happy with resting on the floor of the barn with his legs sticking out into the yard. He insisted upon leaving after two nights of visiting his old friend Summer Squall, on account of “Guests are like fish. Their presence isn’t so welcome after three days.” She was surprised that the gigantic creature only drank a total of four kegs of wine since he arrived, sipping it slowly from the barrel as a pony would tea from a cup. It had made her secretly very happy that he savored the taste of the wine rather than pretend to. He had been gregarious and very friendly, and while he was a little disappointed he wasn’t able to scare Earshot, consoled himself with the fact the colt was genuinely impressed by him.

Hauling a large hay bale down to the pond she intended to spread it about the shoreline so that when ice skaters came down to practice in a more quiet spot, the soil wouldn’t be churned up into a frozen muddy mess.

At first she didn’t see him but after a moment it became obvious there was somepony out in the middle of the pond. There he was, Summer Squall, dressed in just his red and white striped shirt and belt, swimming in the pond. Well swimming in a way that made her drop the hay bale and stifle a laugh. She shouldn’t laugh, she really shouldn’t but all the ponies she knew never swam like that… the way his wings were folded, and just his legs were paddling away under the surface he reminded her in every way… of a duck.

“How’s the water, Squall?” Grapes asked, once she had gotten control of herself.

“What? Oh, very nice Miss Grapes. Chilly but that’s to be expected this time of year. Just wanted to get in one last go before it got too cold.”

“Not a bad thing to do. Care to lend a hoof spreading this straw around? Don’t want any ice skaters to churn up the shore into a muddy mess,” Grapes said patting the bale.

“Oh certainly. Won’t be but a moment, lass.” he said before dipping his head under the water level with his hind legs in the air. Grapes nearly lost it then and there. It was all so very… Duck-like. One he righted himself he swam over to her, long reeds dangling from his mouth. He chewed them happily as he assisted her. “Mmm… won’t be getting this delicacy for a while now. Reed-Roots are always so tender and tasty. You ever try them?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“More’s the pity, lass. Once the ponds and lakes freeze the only place to get them will be warmer locations and it kinda defeats the purpose of enjoying the winter months to just run off to where it’s warmer. Although I suspect Sirocco will wind up wishing she wintered in the “Funshine” cities.”

“Funshine cities?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know. Lots of fun in the sunshine… hence ‘Funshine’. Like Las Pegasus, New Tex-ass city and Cantercun.”

“Ooooh. I see. I never saw the appeal, myself,” Grapes observed. “But then I’ve never been fond of gambling away my hard-earned bits.”

“Las Pegasus is a nice place to go and blow yer bits, that’s for sure. I’ve lost entire fortunes there… so much they named a gamblin’ room after me.”

“The Summer Squall Room, huh? That would be worth going there just to see it,” Grapes quipped cheerfully.

He finished chewing his subaquatic graze and smiled.

“It’s a nautical theme, and built to accommodate a wide variety of gambling desires meant for small groups of ponies and high stakes. It’s a strange thing but riches never really meant a lot to me. If’n I kept all the treasures I’ve discovered, earned or stolen I could have probably bought m’self a small house in the country… and a country to put that small house INTO.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Grapes chuckled.

He looked past her and began swimming to shore, looking behind her Grapes noticed Earshot making his way over the hill. No doubt his hearing told him right where they were.

“This don’t bode well… the lad usually goes straight home, while flying. He’s walkin’ this way… slowly.”

“I know that look,” Grapes said quietly. “That’s the ‘I had to bring a note home’ look.”

“Looks like he’s been told to go to the pillory box.” He got out and shook the few droplets that clung to him off and stood tall as Earshot approached. “Ahoy lad. What’s the good news from yer school? Learned many things, did ye?”

Earshot hung his head then turned his head back to his saddlebags to pull out an envelope and give it to Squall.

“I learned a new concept today… Parent-teacher Conference.” His voice was low, and he seemed unable to make eye contact. Grapes remembered that sensation from when she was a foal.

“Mmm... It says here that Miss Cheerilee wants to see me about some accusations on your schoolyard conduct. I’ll be speaking to the father of the foal in question with Miss Cheerilee as a mediator it seems. Ye haven’t been fighting now, have ye? You know what I’ve been teaching you. Better to not be in a fight than to win one.”

“OH! Oh no! No Squall, I’d never get into a fight unless I was sure there was no other way to get out of a situation. You were very clear on that. It’s… it’s just… well this is something different.”

Squall looked at him and sighed.

“It’ll be alright lad. I’ll see to this. You head up to the houses and do yer sums and whatnot while I speak with Miss Grapes here.”

“Yessir,” Earshot said, and flapped off toward the bunkhouse.

“You’re thinking I should come with you, aren’t you?” Grapes asked.

“I’ve never been to one of these parent-teacher things, but I do knows a court-like proceeding when I sees one comin’. Granted it’ll be just the one pony as a judge but we got the defence and the plaintiff and we’ll be arguing to and fro about what’s going on. Let’s just say I’m more of a ‘settle-out-of-court’ sort of pony. I could use a cool head next to me on this one.”

“I hear you,” Grapes said nodding. “When should we be there?”

“Well, it seems I’m to attend this meeting once Earshot’s class is over and done with tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be clearing my ‘busy’ schedule it seems.” He smirked.

“I’m pretty much free, myself. Even so, let’s get this bale spread. Tomorrow will bring what it will,” Grapes said philosophically.

-------------------------------------------------------------

It was six thirty the next evening and suffice it to say… the Parent-Teacher conference was NOT going well. Sour Grapes was seated at the one end of the arts and crafts table next to Summer Squall. Miss Cheerilee was halfway down the long end acting as a mediator, bless her kind heart. And at the far end was the other ‘parent’. Mister Filthy Rich, father to the wealthiest latchkey foal in Ponyville, Diamond Tiara. Long story short, in her single-sided way she told her daddy about Earshot and in a predictable way for a parent that only rose up from behind his desk for emergencies in his child’s life, Mr Rich had come in in a storm of ill-informed sturm and bluster.

Unfortunately he faced somepony who didn’t give two-bucks about how many bits he earned last quarter or how much of Ponyville he owned. Just that the only thing between them was ten feet of inch-thick plywood.

"...You will have the student in question removed from the property immediately! I will NOT have that little bat-winged... THING going to the same school as my daughter, much less coming within fifty feet of her!" Filthy Rich concluded his tirade, somehow adding an inflection to the word ‘thing’ that suggested his skin crawled just speaking about Earshot.

Squall rose from his seat, slamming his forehooves down on the table with enough force to make the items on it leap half a foot in the air. "If you call that lad a 'THING' again I will personally give you enough reason to change your name from FILTHY Rich to BLOODY Rich!"

Sour Grapes could see the murderous gleam in Squall's eyes and knew he was a heartbeat away from putting Filthy in the hospital and himself in a prison cell. She couldn't blame him, Filthy was out of line calling Earshot a thing when demanding he be banned from school property. Under other circumstances she would have been happy to tear verbal strips off of the business pony, but common sense demanded a more genteel touch.

"Belay that, Mister Squall! Stow the attitude, sailor, and stand down." She had picked up enough nautical speak from him that she hoped it would get through the red haze he was experiencing... and fortunately it did. He took a deep breath and slowly settled back into his seat, leaving a very frightened Business Pony at the far end of the table, and a bewildered teacher between him and them.

"You have to excuse Summer Squall, here. Earshot's a coworker and close friend, and he's taking his duties as a guardian very seriously," Grapes said with a sweet tone of voice that many who knew her knows that fewmets were about to hit the rotating blades. "Be that as it may, Mister Rich, Earshot is not a 'thing'. He is a young pony, much like your overindulged, over-pampered, under-disciplined daughter. Who, by the way, has a substantiated history of bullying, mockery, and deriding of ponies she deems LESS than herself. I can't help but wonder where she could have POSSIBLY gotten such an attitude."

Filthy Rich's eyes flitted between Sour Grapes and Summer Squall as if uncertain which he stood a better chance of surviving.

"I'm sure I can guess what prompted this little sit-down. Your dear darling daughter said that a Night Pony brainwashed her into eating cookies that contained bugs, correct?" Grapes said, still using that deadly-sweet tone.

"That... well yes. That is the issue here. She said he used his Night Pony mind control powers to..." He paused a little more cautious over his choice of words now "Well she CLAIMED he used them to force her and Silver Spoon to 'Eat Bugs'."

"Apparently you have been deficient in teaching your dear darling daughter the difference between what is real and what is completely and utterly fictional," Sour Grapes said with a sniff, still using that calm, even, sweet tone. "Earshot is not a vampony, he has never been and will never be a vampony, because there are no such things as vamponies. Night Ponies are merely a nocturnal tribe of pegasi. True they are a bit more omnivorous than daylight ponies are, but they have been in self-imposed exile for a thousand years. You, Mister Rich, was lied to, by Diamond Tiara, because she did not wish to admit that she stole somepony else's lunch, ate it, and ended up facing the consequences of stealing."

He was silent for a moment. It was well known that Mr Rich was not a pony used to being lectured, nor was he accustomed to thinking his daughter was any less than his special little princess. However faced with the shock of an averted physical threat, Grapes could tell he actually listened to her 'opinion'. "I have your word that that... that THE young colt in question has no... extranormal abilities for a winged pony his age?"

"Well... He is rather bat-like, in that he possesses echolocation, and can hear in higher registers than most ponies. Again, nocturnal winged pony, so he is adjusted to low-light conditions,” Grapes said primly. "You have not only my word, but the word of his colleagues in the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team, their handler Lady Weathervane, and even Princess Celestia, herself." He blinked at the mention of the words 'Royal Equestrian' then again at 'Princess Celestia'. Apparently it helped to have some political clout when speaking to someone who equated his status in town with his purse strings.

"Right... well now... " He said matter-of-factly as he got his thoughts in order. "It seems I was hasty in my accusations. I have to admit that I'm not as... involved in my daughter's life as I should be. I'm better with handling customers and business rivals than... well.. being there for her. It's not easy being a single parent no matter if you're rich or poor."

"Perfectly understandable, Mister Rich. Though she could do with a few less gifts, and a little more tough love, if you don't mind my saying, sir,” Grapes casually observed. “ Also... Night Ponies could use somepony as business savvy as yourself to help them expand their market. Right now their closest trading partner hates them. Again, because of the old Night Pony legends."

"Wait... there's more of... him?"

"Did I mention he was part of a lost tribe of nocturnal pegasi? I thought I did..."

"I'm sorry. It's just... the idea that he's not just a..." Filthy Rich stopped and edited what he was about to say "..as unique as I thought. A whole tribe? Where have they been? How do you 'lose' a whole tribe of ponies?"

"They imposed their exile upon themselves, right about the time Nightmare Moon was banished," Grapes explained. “After all, they did look like they would benefit from Eternal Night, so they felt that they would be easy targets for anypony who wished to avenge themselves upon a nocturnal representative.”

“Hm. That does make sense,” Filthy Rich observed thoughtfully. “Now what’s this about their trading partner?”

“The town they trade with gives then shoddy goods. Second-hand, well-used, practically trash goods. Mind you, having the option to buy such as a good short-term inexpensive fix is one thing, but having such forced upon you day after day, week, after week, month after month… Well, their sense of value has been skewed.”

"How... skewed are we talking here?" Filthy Rich asked, curiously.

"You know, just a regular blanket? Not the 'well loved' ones, but just a regular one, that will last a couple of years even with rough use?" Grapes asked.

"Well yes. My stores carry blankets just like those, and sell them at a very reasonable price."

"They think that such good quality goods would be incredibly prohibitively expensive. Unfortunately somepony could take advantage of that... Or teach them the right way of things. What I'm wondering, Mister Rich, is which sort you would be."

"So.. just to be clear. His kind, Night Ponies, they've come to the conclusion that low-quality is the norm and the standard would be like... Canterlot goods are to us?"

"Exactly," Grapes said, gazing at him with an air of supreme calm.

"And this situation has been put on them by a single town, which I'm going to assume is the only one near to where ever they've been hiding out."

"You are in the right of it, Mister Rich."

"Well that really doesn't help anyone, does it?" Filthy Rich said crossing his forelegs and frowning. "They have a monopoly, yes but what really are they gaining from it?"

"Pest control, and a boost to their egos about keeping 'evil night ponies' in the dark about Equestria,” Grapes replied. "Earshot has proven to me, though, that Night Ponies are just another type of pony. Sure, they're nocturnal, sure they have bat wings and slitted eyes, but they're ponies, like you or me. I see no reason for them to stay hidden."

"Well yes there is that, but..." Filthy Rich started, and Grapes could see something going on inside of his head as if turning the situation over and over again as he appraised it. "Look. You're a self-employed pony. You know at least the basic ideas of how to run a business."

"That, and I took a correspondence course to fill things in. It's just the tax code that confounds me," Grapes replied.

"Right. Well... when you get down to it, we all want to be rich and there's nothing wrong with that. It's a natural state to want to reach a point where you have enough to not have to do anything anymore than spend it. At the very core of things, it's basic greed that drives every economic model. Desire, want and need. You want that shiny new gramophone to play your records so you work hard to earn enough bits to pay the shop keeper for it, and they take your funds for goods and services, which in part go to the pony who built it, the pony who designed it and so on and so forth. See? When you think about it, greed in moderation is good."

"That sounds about right."

"Now... this small town in the middle of nowhere have a total monopoly on this tribe of ponies hiding away from the world. They stick the branding iron to them and give little back in exchange. It sounds like any business pony's dream, but what are they doing with that money?” Filthy Rich asked. “I keep a general eye on the monetary flow of our country and well.. if a whole civilisation was doing a mostly one-way shift of wealth, I should have seen this somewhere in the economic model. No... somepony is sitting on all that wealth. They're probably keeping it inside of the village and to all intents and purposes putting a big dam in the cash flow and letting it stagnate. Greed is one thing but money likes to get out and get around. This level of selfishness is only going to hurt Equestria in the long run."

"Well... As far as I know, it's probably not money, they get in exchange for giving the Night Ponies their trash, but services, and some goods. As you know, Night Ponies can eat bugs, so... they make great pest control... In fact the Parasprites only lightly touched my farm because Earshot started eating them. Apparently they're a delicacy."

"A delicacy? That... that could really be..." Filthy Rich began to trail off a moment before getting back on course. "Well, you can see where I was going with this though. The point is, a businesspony's greed really should reflect the greed of his or her customers. IF they become selfish and want to keep it ALL for themselves, nopony wins. This is why our economy is mostly an open market. It allows for competition to help keep prices reasonable and spread the wealth around a little." He was silent a moment before smiling at Sour Grapes. "Miss Sour Grapes, I believe that when the time comes you can count on Barnyard Bargains to introduce the Night Ponies to the idea of a competitive market."

"Good. It's nice to know that Diamond Tiara isn't a reflection of you, but rather... An aberration."

"I may be opportunistic, cut-throat and mmm... 'reasonably' greedy, I am if nothing else fair when I deal with other ponies. You don't get rich by getting a reputation as an underhanded cheat. It's simply bad business to rip ponies off," Filthy Rich asserted.

"I agree with you there, sir. I even try to deal as fairly as possible with the nobles, even if they, mostly, seen to be gits," Grapes observed with a nod.

"Very well then. When they are ready to step out of the shadows remember to put in a good word for me. In return I'll... have some words with my daughter about treating others so badly," Filthy Rich asserted

"It would be appreciated. I fear she may have taken your talks about 'greed' and made the natural mistake of taking them to extreme. Again, you are a single parent, and probably had the singleness thrust upon you," Grapes observed thoughtfully.

"Yes. All too quickly. I can't promise miracles with my daughter but I assure you that I will be making more time for her."

"It's a start. I'm sure she's got quite a lot to unlearn, and it will take time for the lessons to stick. However, I appreciate the effort you are going to put into it," Grapes said, offering her hoof.

Filthy Rich shook her hoof and glanced for a moment at where Squall sat, still giving him a flint-edged stare. "It's certainly a lot more appealing than the alternative."

"Well if you haven't guessed, Mister Squall is a sailor. He's also the hurricane expert for the Storm Riders. He's a little salty, and rough around the edges, but all in all a good pony, who's taking being a guardian very seriously. Being part of a storm response squad tends to form strong bonds. Also, it may smooth things over, if you apologise," Grapes added, in undertone. "Just saying."

“Right. *ahem* Mister Squall, I wish to apologise for my rather… uninformed bluster, from before. Miss Grapes was kind enough to explain things, and made me realize I was a bit hasty in my condemnation of young Earshot,” Filthy Rich said contritely.

"Apology... accepted, Mister Rich. I also apologise, for nearly forgetting my place as a concerned guardian. It would have been unfair to Miss Cheerilee had things ur... gone badly."

“It’s obvious you care for Earshot very much, Mister Squall,” Filthy Rich said with a nod. “And I am also quite glad you chose to bring Miss Grapes along… For Miss Cheerilee’s sake, as well as my own.” With that the businesspony bid everypony farewell, and left. Squall turned to Cheerilee taking off his hat.

"I do hope you'll forgive an old fool for putting ye in a situation like that. You should never have to be stuck between a terrible old stallion and the pony who P.O.ed him." the pegasus said apologetically.

The purplish mare smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder. “You should come on a normal Parent-Teacher night. There are a lot of ponies out there at odds with one another and how their foals should be taught. Although in your case… I suspect you would have done more than leave him with a black eye.”

“Aye. For a moment I was ready to take him to pieces. I make no excuses for my actions, however putting it into perspective, a lifetime at sea and traveling the globe tends to give a pony a rather ‘rough’ personality. The sea is harsh and unforgiving away from the coastline pegasi, and those who sail it’s waters tend to pick up on that trait.”

“So you’ve spent almost your entire life at sea?”

“Aye. Several decades of it. I’ve been a sailor, a mariner, a naval officer, a fisherpony… done time with merchant marines and traders. Pretty much done it all,” Squall explained.

“In that case, Mister Summer Squall, I’ll accept your apology if you agree to come and speak on your experiences on the next Career Day. Would be interesting… Especially for the colts.” Cheerilee said warmly.

“In that case, Miss Cheerilee, I would be honoured.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Earshot when you’re expected to come by. Right now, though, I’m sure you two would like to get home for dinner,” Cheerilee said with a warm smile. Squall and Grapes bid the teacher adieu, and went home. All in all, it had been somewhat productive, and had fostered understanding if not with Tiara herself, but her father.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later, the day seemed unusually calm, and in the night everything seemed… hushed. Then it started, light, fluffy flakes falling from the sky. Soon the snowfall gained intensity, and the landscape became covered in a glistening blanket of white.

Grapes looked over the white surface and saw a bright orange figure flying over from the Bunkhouse. Looked like Firestormer was up early today. Settling down on the porch he tugged his scarf a little tighter and shivered.

“Boy… when Rainbow Dash does something, she really isn’t into half-measures, is she?” Firestomer observed.

“It would seem not. She’s probably going to get a promotion out of this,” Grapes observed, casually.

“This stuff looks thick. I didn’t realise a first snow would use so much.”

“There was a request for a heavy snow, this winter, to restore the water table,” Grapes explained with a shrug. “Checking up on me, Firestormer?

“A little. You’re probably ready for this sort of snowfall down here. It was a near-blizzard condition last night but because it was just a snowfall it was more or less harmless. If Queenie were here she’d have us shoveling it off your roof to lighten the load.”

“Been ready. And the roof has held up for generations of snowfalls,” Grapes said with a nod. “You look cold, Firestormer,” Grapes said conversationally.

“Eh. Fire’s been my element since.. you know. I should have wrapped up a little more than just a scarf before coming over but, you know, it’s just a couple of dozen feet.”

“Heya Firestormer! Heya Miss Grapes!” came a happy call from down by the Bunkhouse. Eyes drawn by the friendly call, the two ponies looked over to see Earshot standing on the Bunkhouse porch with a midnight blue sweater on with a bright green scarf, bright red earmuffs and four colors of snowboots.

“See? He’s got the right idea.”

“Can’t lose him in the snow, either,” Grapes said, looking amused.

Earshot then gracefully trotted forwards… and in a puff of glittery white snow, vanished from view.

“Oops. Spoke too soon. YOU OK THERE SQUIRT?”

“He’s stuck in the snow, not deaf,” Grapes said. “I’ll be right back, I need my snow outfit.” With that she went inside.

By the time she came back out she noticed a long ‘upset’ of hillocks on the crust of the snowpack leading from the bunkhouse to somewhere out front of her house. She could see a pair of familiar gray ears sticking up out of the whiteness, each swiveling independently of one another.

“That’s funny. It SOUNDED solid enough,” came the night pony’s muffled voice.

“Need a hoof, there, Earshot?” Grapes asked, chuckling in amusement.

“Just keep talking. I’ll find you…” came the reply as the ears began moving in her direction. A few moments later he apparently found the stairs to the front porch and slowly rose up out of the sea of fluffy powder, caked in it. He gave a shake of his wings and body before opening his eyes. “That was… really weird. I’m only used to working with snow that deep when taking directions from Queenie after an avalanche and it’s usually well-packed.”

“Probably so. It hasn’t gotten to get really packed, just yet, so it’s still light and fluffy. But the early morning sun was able to melt the top layer, and form the crust, which you thought was solid,” Grapes explained. “Snow tends to absorb sound, anyhow, so that’s probably how it fooled your ears.”

“That’s actually good stuff to know. We usually don’t go outside during winter at Stygian Cove. A lot of us like to take long naps during that time too.”

“Really? I guess it would make sense to conserve your energy during that time,” Grapes observed. “And it makes your winter food stores last longer.”

“That’s what Indigo says about it. She calls it an… add… Adapt… Adaptation to our subequestrian life.”

“Indigo Gleam, right? You mentioned her before. Your archivist?” Grapes asked.

“Yes. She’s our community scholar. She’s always writing stuff down and rooting through the dump for books thrown away by the Townsponies. She feels we lost so much history we have an obligation to having as much written stuff as possible for future night ponies.”

“Okaaay. Add to the list of things to get this weekend a book on Equestrian history,” Grapes said musingly. “Bet she’d be over the moon over getting a new book. And ‘over the moon’ means ‘really happy’.”

The colt giggled at that and nodded. “That’s an expression we might love to embrace.”

“All right. Where’d Firestormer go?” Grapes asked, looking around. “Thought he was trying to mooch some coffee off me… I haven’t even started any… Actually I’m in the mood for hot chocolate. Care to join, Earshot? After that we’ll have to get out the ole snow shovels, and clear the trotways.”

“He’s over there. He was helping me find the house… You know. ‘Marko!’”

“Polo!”

Grapes noticed Firestormer sitting on the porch’s swing-bench behind her and chuckled. “Want some hot chocolate, Firestormer?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Grapes. Gives me a chance to set my brain into a shoveling mood,” Firestormer replied with a nod.

“Same here. A little warmth inside will help with the cold outside,” Grapes said, as they went inside, and Grapes whipped up a nice batch of cocoa, and called everypony there to have some. After all, there were more than just the entryway, and the path between the farmhouse and bunkhouse to shovel.

With Earshot and a better-insulated Firestormer assisting her, all the entrances to the farm buildings where cleared and paths dug between them rather rapidly. They had gone inside the house for another cup of hot chocolate when Stormfront made his appearance. Rather than fly above the snow he walked down the path that linked the Bunkhouse with hers and smiled up at her. She hated to admit it to herself but he looked damn handsome in that russet red winter vest and his flight scarf.

“Good morning Grapes. Hope I didn’t miss out on helping you here. To be honest I didn’t realise I had packed away my winter outfit so well. Took me longer than I thought it would to find where it was hiding.”

“Well, there’s still the entrance path,” Grapes said with a smile. “You could always do that for us. Don’t want Earshot to freeze his poor ears off.”

“Oh good heavens, no,” he laughed. “We wouldn’t want that, would we. This shouldn’t take long.”

Sour Grapes turned towards the barn to indicate where Stormy could get the plow. For a long straight run like the front drive, it was probably easier to just do it that way. Besides he DID have the build to handle something like the plow… A very STURDY build… She took a moment to shake a stimulating image from her head when there was a loud noise. It was like a muted thunderclap followed by a soft hissing sound like sugar being sifted into a bowl. She turned back and saw him at the base of her stairs, his wings were not just fully unfolded but pointing straight ahead of him and his face had a very… well… she never saw it on him before but he looked… Smug. She then followed where his wings were pointed and her eyes widened. The flurry of snow was still settling but the entire driveway had been cleared. It was as if the snow itself had been blown away in a straight line all the way from her front porch to the road. Heck it looked as if it reached the gateway of Sweet Apple Acres across the road where Applebloom’s Snowpony sat.
The Big Mac sized snowpony was so cute but it was strange too. Grapes had been out there all morning and never saw Applebloom out making that thing.

Then it blinked in a VERY surprised way.

“Well what do you think? Bet I beat Rainbow Dash’s claim of ‘Ten seconds flat’, huh?”

“Ah… Yes. Yes you did. Though… Why don’t you come with me,” Grapes said, trotting to the end of the drive.

He followed closely behind. She had to admit it was a good job. Right down to the gravel and everything.

“What do you know. I made it all the way out here too. You know, I always wanted to try that in a non-crisis situation.”

“Good job… Except for one thing,” Grapes said nodding to the snowpony.

“Oh hey. That’s a nice snowpony Applebloom did there. Wow she did a great job too. It looks a lot like Big Macintosh… Uh oh.”

“Yeah… You think, maybe, you could help my poor cousin out from that pile of snow you piled upon him?” Grapes asked.

“Uh… yes… Yes I think I better.” Stormfront said quietly before plodding over to where poor Big Mac stood. “Hey Mac. Do… would you like some assistance there?”

“Eeyup.”

She watched from a ‘safe’ distance as Stormy used his wings to brush the thick layer of snow off of Big Mac before settling down to help him clear the drive to Sweet Apple acres. A little time later he returned to the house where she was waiting for him with hot chocolate.

“Here. Figured you needed to warm up, after that,” Grapes said indicating the steaming mug.

“OOh… thank you.” he said gratefully accepting the mug. “A hot drink in cold weather is always welcome. Even if it’s just makeshift tea.”

“Makeshift tea?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh. Uh… yeah. It usually happens in areas just recovering from a major disaster. Food and clean water are scarce and so of course you have to boil the water to make it drinkable, which often leads to someone trying to make tea out of whatever’s available at the time for comfort. Often they do it with kitchen spices like Thyme or Oregano… one time it was Bay Leaves. That was… bracing.”

He made a face and smirked as he let that thought settle in for her. “Tea. From bay leaves…” Grapes said making a face. “The herb that you only put one singular solitary leaf in soup to season it…”

“Yeah. Of course keep in mind ‘whatever’s available’ can also mean stuff like Pine Needles, Kudzu, Chickweed, Goldenrod… once there was a batch of tea made with Stinging Nettle. I’m still sitting on the fence on whether or not it was good.” Grapes just made a face.

“I shall consider myself forever fortunate if I never have to try that, ever,” Grapes uttered.

Author's Note:

Well one little confrontation down. We'll get to Dusty and Queenie, soon, dear readers.

Comments

[i_am_the_jam]

Never mess with Sour Grapes

[Abel DuStable]

My only regret over this chapter is that I only now realised that one line should have been...

“He’s over there. He was helping me find the house… You know. ‘Marko!’”
“Pinto!"

[Vailen]

Someone needs to do a comic of this story. the scene of Earshots ears... I can just picture them. Like a submarine's periscope.

[SageBrony07]

Nice Chapter. Winter is settling in. I can't help but wonder, will Grapes go to the gala, or the stormriders. Maybe, she is still waiting for her dress from Rarity. Best of luck, I can guess that soon we are going to be learning about the Long Dark. Till next chapter.

[Truthseeker]

“A wise stallion once said: ‘A coward flees when no one pursues’,” Grapes said, stirring the dish, and checking the rice.

That's a biblical quote, 'The wicked flee when noone persueth, but the righteous are as bold as a lion.'

[Carnation83]

I like your take on Filthy Rich. Nice and believably fleshed out to have good and bad points.