41. Do spirits like soup?
The Tale of Lord Barleycorn
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Chapter 41: Do spirits like soup?
---
"So, are you still mad?" Carrot Top asked smugly.
Jack wanted to be mad at her, he really did.
After such a late night performing for all those happy faces he would have thought that karma would have seen fit to give him a peaceful night’s sleep. It did, but only for what felt like an hour. The family had tried to rise at their usual hour, making plenty of noise as they reloaded the carts before departing. Any return to slumberland was promptly thwarted soon after by Carrot Top insisting he come to the farm house.
Now Jack was sitting at the low, pony-made table in the Harvest’s kitchen, staring down at the most beautiful sight he’d seen since arriving in this strange world.
On his plate were scrambled eggs, perfectly golden and fluffy like he would have gotten at the local greasy spoon. Along with it were two pieces of toast with pear jam from Harvest Moon’s larder, and a side of crispy hashbrowns with onions and cheddar. To top it all off a steaming mug of coffee rested nearby, promising what Jack had sorely missed from his mornings--his old friend caffeine.
"I’m guessing from that dumb smile on your face that you’re not mad anymore," Said Carrot Top, "But if you’re still upset I’ll gladly eat that all myself."
"No!" Jack barked, putting his elbows on the table to shield his precious breakfast from her, "Mine!"
Carrot Top laughed, more at the whole situation she found herself in rather than Jack’s childish outburst. While Jack began to eat the breakfast she had prepared for him, she glanced down at her own plate. There was nothing but crumbs and a few blots of smeared jelly, but she still had coffee to enjoy. It was a nice strong brew she’d made, she figured she and everypony else would be needing something like this after last night.
Her eyes trailed around the mostly empty kitchen. She was a little surprised how normal it felt to be sitting at the table like this, with Jack and not ‘Lord Barleycorn’. There was no hiding in the barn, no worrying about being seen, no masks, no whispering, no pretending… it was just breakfast with a friend.
"So," Jack said after swallowing a mouthful of toast, "How long have the family been gone?"
"They left about half an hour or so." Said Carrot Top, "Long enough for me to cook you this little feast."
Jack glanced down at his plate, "I didn’t think Harvest Moon had the stuff to make a meal like this."
Carrot Top shrugged, "They’re still saving their money, but I chose to splurge and get a few things at the market last night. I wanted to have a good breakfast, and I didn’t want to cook all this in front of the family when they were having plain oats and milk. And it just so happened I had enough to make a second plate for you."
Jack chuckled, "How kind of you to waste such food on me, you really are a selfless little saint."
"A saint would have cooked you pancakes," Carrot Top took a sip of her coffee, "How’s the coffee?"
"Strong enough to stand on its own without the mug." Jack grinned, "I needed this almost as much as the food."
Another smug look crossed Carrot Top’s face, "Then I’ll be sure to just brew this next time and just give you stale bread to eat."
"... I take back calling you a saint." Jack said flatly.
Carrot Top rolled her eyes as she took another sip of coffee, using the mug to hide her smile. The typical mornings in this kitchen with her cousins were usually quiet, even stifling affairs. Yet now when she looked around she had to wonder, why did the room suddenly feel so cozy?
"I’ll write my mother a tear-stained letter about my sudden demotion," Carrot Top set her mug down, "But that can come later after we enjoy a little down time."
"You can. I have to plan out something that came to me last night." Said Jack, "It’s not exactly from my area, but it should bring everyone together."
"And how will you do that?" Carrot Top asked.
"By playing on what can make anything happy, a full belly." Jack patted his stomach for emphasis, "I’d bet even that sour puss doctor will be in a better mood if this pans out."
Carrot Top tapped a hoof on the table, "Oh, funny you should mention him. Somepony we know is probably sitting under his oh-so-gentle care right at this very second."
Jack raised an eyebrow, "Leadfoot didn’t hurt himself after seeing those ghosts, did he?"
"Good guess, but no." Carrot Top, "Corn Crib caught a bit of a cold last night and Harvest Moon was dead set on taking her to the doctor first thing in the morning."
Jack frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Hm, now that I think about she did seem to be shivering a little last night, but she didn’t complain about it. Not that she would have; of all the kids she was the most eager to perform."
"Don’t blame yourself, if you canceled the play she would have been more upset." Carrot Top flashed him a smile, "Besides, foals get colds all the time. Some warm soup and a stint in bed and she’ll be right as rain."
Jack's attention drifted down to his plate as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.
"I suppose you’re right, and it’s not like we can really do anything about it now." Jack leaned back against the small pony-made chair, "But this also means there won’t be an encore of the play until somepony else can learn Corn Crib's part. Either way she’s going to be pretty upset about being stuck in bed while everyone else is having fun."
Carrot Top shrugged, "Maybe, but you can always spend the day with her while everypony else is at the market. I’ll help you out, of course."
Jack lifted his head and met Carrot Top's eye as a tired but grateful smile formed, "I’m sure she’d really appreciate that, thanks."
Not feeling like she really had to reply, Carrot Top gripped her plate with her teeth and trotted over to the sink. Keeping this lavish meal a secret wouldn’t be possible if she left Harvest Moon a pile of dirty dishes to discover.
"And really it could be worse. A cold’s simple enough to manage and it's something I can at least understand." Jack said as he returned to his breakfast, "If it was something like pony pox or some magical disease I’d be completely lost."
Carrot Top turned her head, "Pony pox? At this time of year?"
"Is… that strange?" Asked Jack.
After taking a moment to think, Carrot Top sighed and shook her head, "Taking everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, I shouldn’t be surprised. If anything I’m a little impressed that there’s not an epidemic of it going around. It’s pretty infectious."
"Probably why the fillies who said they had it were out for a week." Jack rubbed his chin, "Funny, I hadn’t thought about them until just now but I don’t recall seeing them but that one time."
A shiver went up Carrot Top’s spine. It might have been just her jumping to conclusions but she didn’t want to even entertain the possibility of more ghosts running around this crazy place.
It was time to change the subject.
"Hey uh, since we have the time… you need anything special for that ‘feed the whole town’ scheme?" Asked Carrot Top.
Jack scratched his beard, a smile forming beneath is facial hair. "Yes, actually. And I think it’s time to get my new ‘knights’ to give us a hand. Got a pen and paper?"
---
"Say Ah." Cherry Nova ordered.
Corn Crib barely had time to make any sound at all before Dr. Nova rammed a tongue depressor in her mouth. The bright light of a small flashlight stung the filly’s eyes, blinding her as the doctor hurriedly peered at the back of her throat.
"No irritation," Cherry Nova noted boredly, "I think she needs to learn to floss more often but other than that I’m not seeing anything to really worry about."
The sterile piece of wood was just as abruptly yanked from Corn Crib’s mouth, leaving her with the taste of medical disinfectant. The flashlight clicked off, and she blinked her eyes in a weak attempt to get them to readjust to the clinic’s poor lighting.
"What about her fever, doctor? I’d call that something to worry about." Harvest Moon frowned, clearly not happy with Cherry’s choice of words.
"A fever is a symptom, Ms. Harvest," Cherry said as he pitched the tongue depressor in the trash and placed the flashlight in his pocket, "It’s not a disease in-and-of itself, and it’s only slightly above normal. I need a little more to go on."
Corn Crib’s vision returned in time for her to witness her mother giving the doctor a glare that was normally reserved for her or Leadfoot when they did something really, really bad. However, that withering look lasted only a moment before Harvest Moon knitted her brow in thought.
"Well, she didn’t want breakfast this morning," said Harvest Moon, "And she was complaining of hoof pain on the walk here, but I’m not sure if that helps."
Corn Crib didn’t think anypony could stand the same boring, bland oatmeal day in and day out… but it had seemed especially unappetizing that morning.
Cherry frowned as he turned his attention back to his little patient. He was still looking as grumpy as ever but Corn Crib thought he looked a little less bored than before.
"What bothers you more; your stomach, or the fever?" Cherry asked pointedly.
"My stomach, sir." Corn Crib peeped, "It feels really upset."
The doctor’s wings rustled on his back as he began to quietly mull over the child’s symptoms. They were common ailments, most pointing to the usual culprits; the common cold, the flu, and so on. Innocuous diseases, capable of being resolved with the usual treatment of rest, plenty of fluids, and antibiotics as needed. The hoof pain was a little strange, but that could be readily explained as a result of that ridiculous ‘Topple the King’ game the foals played. It certainly wasn’t odd that a foal was sick, they were little petri dishes; all of them.
"It’s probably just a very mild case of influenza." Cherry returned his attention to Harvest Moon, "If you like I can add an antibiotic to speed this along."
Harvest Moon let out a tired sigh, "Please."
Corn Crib looked up at her mother and repeated the unfamiliar word, "Influenza?"
"The flu, honey." Harvest Moon clarified.
Corn Crib tensed, she knew what that word meant. The last time she had the flu she had been stuck at home for three days and had been utterly miserable. Sure, getting out of school and chores for three days had been great but now it meant three days of the festival that she’d miss out on!
Even worse, the bottle that Dr. Nova had given her mother was full of a sloshing, very purple liquid. Which would be worse, another bowl of tasteless wallpaper paste, or some grape-imitation medicine that made her gag just thinking about it?
After a rare occurance of paying for the doctor’s services with actual money, Harvest Moon lead her daughter out into the waiting area. The way Corn Crib was wincing as she walked concerned her, but perhaps it pass with the rest of her symptoms.
Still, if Corn Crib’s hooves were feeling tender there was no need to drag her from one end of the street to the other before heading home.
"Honey, is it okay if you wait here for a minute?" Harvest Moon asked gently, "I just need to tell your dad and brother that I need to take you home."
"That’s fine." Corn Crib said as she sat by the large shop window, "Maybe Lord Barleycorn will show up before we have to leave?"
The question struck Harvest Moon as a little odd, but by now she knew her daughter adored the scarecrow, "If he does, we’ll at least say hello."
That answer brought a smile to Corn Crib’s face, and after a quick and mildly embarrassing hug Corn Crib was left in the quiet but noticeably cleaner waiting room.
With her mother gone Corn Crib settled down onto her haunches. The doctor might have been just behind the wall made of old shelves, but she genuinely felt like she was alone for how quiet it was.
With nothing else to occupy her mind, Corn Crib settled for watching the ponies walking around outside on the boardwalk. It was boring, but there wasn’t anything else to do. Dr. Nova only had a few old newspapers laying around for ponies to read, and there weren’t any comic sections worth looking at.
A minute or so passed, and Corn Crib began to wish her mother would hurry up. She had already seen a few familiar faces from school and she found it hard not to feel jealous. They were going to see what new surprise was coming tonight and she’d have to hear about it second hoof when it was all over.
Her attention was successfully grabbed when one of princess Twilight’s friends entered her view. It would have been hard not to notice the pink mare as she bounced along the boardwalk on the other side of the street. Corn Crib and quite a few other ponies knew her now for her delicious pies, and after so long without sugar she would have run out to greet her in hopes of more sweets… if walking didn’t sting a little.
Corn Crib would have lost interest in the pink mare if she hadn’t suddenly screeched to a halt. In mid air. There was little time to digest how the earth pony was hovering in the air like that before she dropped to her hooves, her happy-go-lucky smile replaced with stoicism as she snapped a salute at something in front of her.
That something turned out to be the rag pony Corn Crib and the rest of the town had seen last night. Or, at least Corn Crib thought it was at first. The one she was familiar with had a brown mane and tail, but this one’s was a vibrant orange and neatly combed to one side. Was this a different field spirit, or could they change their appearance?
Of greater importance was the envelope in the rag pony’s mouth, which she presenting to the pie-mare.
Corn Crib let out an annoyed huff. There was only one reason a field spirit would come to town with a letter, and that’s if Lord Barleycorn was too busy with his day court. At any moment her mother would show up at the door and take her back home where she’d eat herself alive wondering what was in that letter.
No longer caring about her hoofache, Corn Crib scrambled for the door and pushed it open, making it outside in time to see the pink mare reading the letter.
"Well of course I know where I can find a drum!" Pinkie declared happily, "I can go find Fluttershy and we’ll be right on it!"
Corn Crib hastily looked both ways as she crossed the street, a pinch in her hooves as she struggled to trot toward the unusual pair. Her approach was noticed by the rag pony, and then by Pinkie as the latter followed the former’s gaze.
"Hi Corn Crib!" Pinkie beamed, "Having a good Halloween part two?"
Corn Crib was a bit at a loss, this mare was able to remember her name after meeting so many foals? Hopefully she could muddle through this without letting it slip that she didn’t know hers.
"Erm, yeah. Mostly." Corn Crib chuckled weakly, "Why’s the rag pony here? Did something happen?"
Pinkie shook her head but kept her bright and cheerful smile, "I can’t tell you, otherwise I’d ruin the surprise! But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to-"
Pinkie was cut off as her whole body seemed to spasm for a moment, resulting in the sudden removal of that ever-present optimism.
"That’s… weird." Pinkie said cautiously, "I wonder what that’s about."
"Um… what?" Corn Crib scratched her head. Was this mare always so strange?
"Last time my Pinkie sense caused me to do that a doozy happened." Pinkie said, but her worry was swiftly pushed aside, "But I’m sure it will all turn out for the best. It did last time."
"Well that answered nothing." Corn Crib frowned.
Pinkie turned her head back to the rag pony who had been watching their exchange, "I’ll get the drum and the costumes! Don’t worry!"
With that, Pinkie turned to prance away but not before turning back to look at Corn Crib, "And I’ll be sure to send you a ‘get well soon’ treat!"
Corn Crib blinked, she hadn’t said she was sick. How did she know?
It didn’t matter. Rather than give herself a headache trying to figure that out, Corn Crib looked back at the rag pony, who cocked her head as if to say ‘Did you have something to say to me?’
"Um… I know I’m not really supposed to talk to you, but..." Corn Crib said as she slowly crossed her forelegs in reverence, "Could you tell Lord Barleycorn something for me?"
The rag pony stared at her for a moment, then nodded her head.
Corn Crib grinned, "Thanks. Uh, could you tell him that I’m very sorry that I can’t come to the festival for a while? I know he’s working really hard to get Halloween in order and now I’m going to miss most of it because the doctor says I have the flu."
Under her mask, Carrot Top smirked. Corn Crib was going to feel like the luckiest foal in Equestria when Jack shows up in costume just to brighten her day. She reached out and patted Corn Crib on the head, letting her know she understood.
Relief spread through Corn Crib’s body, at least Lord Barleycorn would know that she wasn’t ditching the festival to lay about at home. Sure he might come to know that from all the ghosts that reported to him but it’d be poor manners not to try to give him the message as directly as possible.
"Ah, there you are!"
Corn Crib looked over her shoulder to find her mother trotting toward her. There was a moment of hesitation in her mother’s step as she neared the forest spirit, and dipped her head in a polite if brief bow as she stepped between her daughter and the rag pony.
"Please excuse my daughter, honored guest. I hope she didn’t offend you." Harvest Moon said with an honored reverence Corn Crib had never heard from her mother before.
The field spirit cocked her head to one side, but said nothing.
Corn Crib was quickly ushered away from the spirit in rags by her mother, who walked slowly to give her daughter all the time she needed to walk on her tender hooves. Now resigned to a boring day spent in bed, Corn Crib still felt the need to peek over her withers one last time.
The field spirit was watching her leave, but only briefly. The arrival of Pinkie Pie pulling Fluttershy by the tail was a more pressing matter, and she could hear the hyperactive mare starting to prattle on before they were too far away for Corn Crib to hear.
She sighed, maybe if she followed the doctor’s instructions she’d get over this bug that she’d caught and be able to enjoy the tail end of Halloween.
---
Cherry Nova leaned back in his chair.
Once again the clinic was dark, quiet, and empty yet the doctor couldn’t find much solace in his solitude.
His hangover had subsided earlier than he thought, but he still felt a slight headache from his flagrant abuse of his prized bottle of griffin vodka the night before. It was probably by Luna’s grace alone that the doctor hadn’t been discovered passed out on one of his cots.
Now the bottle was empty, and his only means of finding decent drink would be in the Rusty Nail, and no doubt Silver Lining would have the bartender ready to snitch on him if he even went near the bar.
Cherry sank lower in his seat, grumbling as he contemplated the abject horror of several whole days of total sobriety. He should have stretched that bottle out, made it last until this ridiculous festival ended and Hollow Shades returned to being an obscure, dying town that nopony cared about.
The bottle was dropped in the trash can beside his desk. Its contents were meant to bring him a suspension of the discomfort of the reality he found himself in at this very moment, but instead of dulling the pain it had stirred it up like muck at the bottom of a lake. Instead of temporary contentment he found that his foundations were shakier than ever.
What were his prospects in this town? Drink until he finally over did it? That’d earn him a grave up on the hill which nopony would visit. He frowned as he mulled the idea over, annoyed that the idea didn’t scare him as much as it should.
He didn’t have the bits to just up and leave Hollow Shades. Just like the other ponies who called this collection of shacks home, he was nearly flat broke. The bits that Harvest Moon had paid him in were the first real income he’d had in a year that weren’t ‘I’ll pay part of your tab’ or ‘I’ll trade you a warm meal for a checkup.’
He rose from his chair, feeling a need to look up at the sky.
From the wide store windows at the front of his clinic, Cherry could see the sky was clear with a few wild clouds drifting lazily by. He’d never touched them, but the local pegasi said they were different than the clouds he played on as a foal.
He unfurled his wings, letting them slip through the slits in his coat as he gave them a flap. He ignored the now ordinary feeling of his limp wingtip and closed his eyes. He could almost feel the air flowing over his wings, like when he used to arc through the air for the sheer thrill of it.
Pleasant memories fell away, and as he opened his eyes Cherry let his wings droop to the floor. He’d never feel that rush ever again.
He glanced out at the busy streets, and the more he looked the more he wanted to creep back to the seclusion of his dark room. No interaction meant no questions, no reminders, just anything.
Cherry was just about to do that when he noticed the Harvest foal walking across the street with her mother. The filly was walking slowly with a repeated wince on her face, which made the doctor feel a twinge of sympathy. Was she really in that much discomfort?
The more he thought about it, Cherry couldn’t remember the last time the neighborhood urchins came into his office needing treatment for their roughhousing. He could barely remember the last time anypony needed serious hoof treatment.
Turning back into his office, Cherry wandered over to where he’d kept his medical texts. He’d expected them to be caked in dust but found the books neatly ordered and as clean as they were when he first put them there. He frowned, not at their improved condition but at the obvious realization that Princess Twilight had touched his belongings.
Pushing his annoyance aside, he took one of the heavy tomes down and set it on his desk. If nothing else, he could pass the day looking into this mystery.
---
The ponies who had come for the festival early in the afternoon did their best to be patient as the day slowly whittled away.
Those who had no choice but to walk back to Ponyville the night before had spread word of the otherworldly things they had seen. Now as the sun began its march toward the horizon those who wished to test the veracity of these tales had joined the long walk to obscure Hollow Shades. Now visitors new and old milled around the boardwalk with the locals, who eagerly awaited the arrival of the King of Autumn.
Twilight Sparkle however was not one of these ponies.
For her, the day had consisted of going through the copious stacks notes she had taken over the past several days. In retrospect, it was a mistake to transcribe every word the elders of Hollow Shades on the broad subject of spirits and the old ceremony at the standing stones.
Many of those she interviewed had taken her questions as an opportunity to go off on tangents and personal accounts of seeing spirits in their foalhood. Foolishly, Twilight had written down every word in hopes that maybe something would be useful when it came time to condense these notes.
Oh how she regretted it. The results of such note-taking methods were schizophrenic at best. Twilight had wasted enough paper on the testimonies of ponies who were simply excited that a royal was seeking their advice and hoped to sound like wizened sages.
The steps to the ceremony were in her notes, but they were scattered and far between each other. Some steps that were described seemed contradictory; while other elders seemed to have left parts out.
If there was one upside to this, Twilight did feel like she was saving a small piece of Equestrian lore from the sands of time. If she hadn’t come to Hollow Shades and met Lord Barleycorn, this town may have lost a large piece of its identity.
Twilight set her quill down after scribbling down the latest addition to her notes. She yawned and stretched, only now becoming aware of the elongating shadows and the reddening light that was coming in through the farmhouse window.
A kind, aging couple had graciously offered her and Rarity a room to share in their quiet home. While it may have been a little small for two grown mares to occupy, Twilight thought this humble spare bedroom possessed a warmth that that dismal clinic had lacked altogether.
Rarity had been ecstatic about the room--partly for its comfortable beds but more so for its lovely view. It was on the second story of the farmhouse, allowing them an excellent view of the main street.
Deciding to take a short break, Twilight rose to her hooves and fancied a look outside while she gave her stiff muscles another stretch.
Rarity was currently out, not that Twilight could blame her. The unicorn wasn’t exactly interested in reading page after page of stories of what old ponies saw in the woods when they were foals and had opted to instead go rummaging through the antique shops once again.
A glance at Rarity’s belongings showed she’d found a few trinkets she liked amongst the junk, or perhaps she was spending bits just because she was bored.
"At least I managed to give her the description of the gown I’m supposed to wear." Twilight said to no one as she placed both forehooves on the window sill.
The poor condition of the moldering buildings hadn’t magically reversed since she had last looked out the window. The town did seem a little more alive than when she and her friends had first arrived, which she attributed to a newfound familiarity with Hollow Shades and the ponies who called it home.
The wild clouds overhead shifted, and the evening sun cut through with all its brilliant glory to transform the web-covered water tower into a shining pillar of gold. The rational part of Twilight’s mind knew it was simply the reflection of the setting sun on those hundreds of thousands of tiny spider threads but if she hadn’t known better she would have thought it was the work of the woodland spirits.
The spectacle of the water tower was short lived, with the setting sun again becoming obscured behind the clouds. The tower was again just a rusting hulk standing at the heart of a collection of wooden shacks, but for a moment Twilight thought it had seemed worthy of standing in among Canterlot’s spires.
A smile formed on her face, maybe it was a sign there was some sliver of grandeur even in this dilapidated town.
She was about to turn away when something caught her attention. It was rhythmic and distant, too soft to be rolling thunder and too repetitive to be anything natural. It was a simple one-two one-two drumming, having almost the cadence of a beating heart. That comparison alone gave Twilight a shiver as she imagined a large disembodied heart floating up the street for nothing more than the sake of frightening her and any other poor soul. If a goat’s head could float and scream, why not a heart or any other portion of a living body?
The sound grew in volume and clarity, as if its source was coming closer. Thankfully for Twilight with this advancement came the realization that this sound to be nothing more than the beating of a large drum.
From the window Twilight could see that ponies were already gathering on the boardwalks below in anticipation for the drummer’s arrival. There was some confusion on the part of the instrument, as Twilight had never seen Lord Barleycorn with anything other than pauper’s violin and one report that he’d played on that piano that was now a revered centerpiece of the local bar.
Her vantage point sadly did not allow her to see the approaching musician. This left Twilight with a choice: stay in her room, ignore the drums, and continue organizing notes or go downstairs and see what was going on.
Remaining in her room seemed like the more productive option, but she couldn’t deny her own curiosity. After quickly stacking her papers so could easily resume her work later, Twilight traversed the house until she was stepping out onto the boardwalk.
The cool evening air nipped at her nose, but the drumming continued to lure her out. The crowds had formed a wall in the street, blocking her view even at ground level. This was a minor obstacle at best, as Twilight simply flew up onto the roof of a nearby store where several other Pegasi were seated. The mossy shingles shifted under her weight, but she soon found herself on a reasonably stable position to watch the proceedings below.
To her surprise, the drummer was not Lord Barleycorn.
The scarecrow was there, dancing from table to table in the farmer’s market to the beating of the drum. In his sleeved hand was his straw hat, which he offered to a farm mare selling potatoes. The mare laughed at the attention she was being given and quickly placed a potato in the spirit’s hat. She received a quick bow before Lord Barleycorn danced away to a farmer’s cart that was being drawn by a rag pony wearing a similar burlap sack on her head and a straw hat that was several sizes too big for her.
A second rag pony stood on her hind legs behind the cart, a large marching band drum harnessed to her barrel as she beat it and danced back and forth. Like the other she wore a sack on her head, but the pink mane that spilled out from under its edges was a clear giveaway to who was under that ragged clothing.
Even without that very specific tell, Twilight would have recognized her friends. Pinkie’s exuberance and Fluttershy’s shrinking in the face of so much attention were traits that Twilight had become as identifiable as their cutie marks. It seemed that they were in the middle of fulfilling their role as ‘Knights of Autumn.’
The potato was soon joined by a stalk of celery, onions, and other treasures from the fields as Lord Barleycorn continued to dance and offer his hat, slowly working his way down the main road. Each vegetable was lovingly deposited in the cart before he danced off to beg yet again. Twilight could see that the amount he had already gathered was enough to feed several families, but the exact reason for why he would want so much was lost on her.
This pattern continued, with Fluttershy and Pinkie following in the scarecrow’s wake until they reached the shadow the water tower. The cart was now laden with a pauper’s feast of raw vegetables, yet Lord Barleycorn had not once given anything for the food he had been offered. To Twilight this seemed counterproductive, as Lord Barleycorn had said his grand design was to help the town’s financial woes.
After helping Fluttershy unhitch herself from the cart, Pinkie abandoned the drum to hurry to the leg of the water tower. From the shadows, she began to drag a large earthen crock toward the spigot that ran along the overflow pipe.
It was nearly the size of one of Zecora’s cauldrons, and Twilight couldn’t understand how she had missed something that large sitting out in the open. She may had been focused on Lord Barleycorn and her friends but she liked to think she was more observant than that.
Pinkie struggled with the rusty wheel, but she soon began to draw water from the tower. The crock was soon full of water, and Pinkie pressed her head to the now much heavier cooking vessel to start moving it back toward the cart.
Fluttershy however revealed that the cart was full of more than just vegetables. From the back, she pulled a bundle of dry sticks and corn stalks. Lord Barleycorn himself pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket and began to peel a potato.
Twilight could hardly contain a laugh as the realization dawned on her. The dry wood, the vegetables, and the large container could mean only one thing: Soup. All of this for a lot of soup.
Yet, there was something to be said for Lord Barleycorn’s method of procuring ingredients. While she had only seen him beg from a few tables, it was safe to say that every farmer in town had contributed to the impending meal.
Wood was piled around the crock, with corn stalks used as kindling. The fire was lit with a candle borrowed from a Jack o’lantern, and Fluttershy and Pinkie both began to assist Lord Barleycorn in cleaning, peeling, and dicing vegetables for the crock. By the time they were finished, the water had begun to boil.
While they had worked, there rose a need in the crowd to contribute more to the meal. Many who had been content to watch the preparation had dashed to their kitchen. Soon salt and other spices were brought for Lord Barleycorn’s approval, yet perhaps the most unexpected was delivered by the cook from Tablecloth’s.
The brawny stallion arrived with a small pot of his own and a large strainer. He quietly offered both to Lord Barleycorn, who upon inspecting the pot’s contents seemed delighted by the offering. Instead of handling it himself, the scarecrow and allowed the cook to pour the murky contents through the strainer and into the soup.
This mystery ingredient had Twilight curious. It was clearly a liquid, but what could it be that required it to be strained? Something distinctly solid fell out of the pot into the strainer, revealing itself to be bones and fish heads; eyes, gills and everything. Twilight gagged at the sight, quickly remembering the catfish that Rarity had mistakenly ordered the last night, this was obviously what had been left over from that fillet.
Many of the ponies in attendance echoed her feelings on the fish heads in the strainer, though this mostly came from foals and those who arrived from Ponyville and beyond. The cook however must have been used to such reactions as he casually dumped the fish scraps back into the pot and trotted back to this kitchen.
"Hopefully he’s going to throw those out and not use them for something else on the menu…" Twilight thought.
"My dear friends and esteems visitors," Lord Barleycorn said, finally turning to address the ponies who had been watching him this whole time, "I apologize for not explaining tonight’s entertainment, but I believed I needed to change things up a little. It’s come to my attention that we have a sick filly at home tonight, and is sadly missing out on our festivities."
This got the crowd to whisper to each other, if only briefly before Lord Barleycorn spoke again; "To ensure that nopony else catches a cold, I’ve taken the liberty of offering everypony here a bowl of warm soup to keep up your strength."
He turned in the direction of Tablecloth’s, where the waitresses were standing outside its door still in their aprons, "If I may trouble you ladies for enough bowls and spoons for everypony, I would be proud to offer to serve it while I begin another story..."
The waitresses almost tore the door off the hinges as they sped back into the restaurant, returning with what must have been every bowl and spoon in the entire establishment.
Despite any reluctance the fish had created, the boiling concoction had a powerful and very tempting aroma that reached even up to the roof where Twilight sat. Ponies were already beginning to form an orderly line as the bowls were brought to the scarecrow who set them on the now empty cart.
Pinkie stirred the soup with a large ladle (although when or from where she had obtained it, Twilight wasn’t sure) and offered it to her burlap-wearing liege. Lord Barleycorn gave the contents of the crock a final stir before blowing on the ladle and tasting it.
Lord Barleycorn jolted as if he’d been struck, and almost spilled the spoonful on the ground as he pulled it away from his mouth.
Several ponies in the crowd pulled back, and even Twilight worried that the soup might have been befouled.
"H-hot! Very very hot!" Lord Barleycorn cried out, waving a sleeve over his mouth.
Apprehension gave way to relief as onlookers laughed, both at their patron’s misfortune and at their own fears.
Pinkie tapped Lord Barleycorn’s leg with her hoof to get his attention before pointing up to the roof where Twilight was sitting and making an eating gesture with her hooves.
"Hm, a good idea." Lord Barleycorn said as he turned to look up at Twilight on her perch, "Your highness, may I offer you the first bowl?"
The request was so unexpected that Twilight nearly fell off the roof.
Purely by accident, Twilight had unfurled her wings and caught herself as she felt her balance on the angled roof return. Any sense of safety, sadly, was short lived as Twilight felt the weight of a hundred sets of eyes watching her. An awkward facsimile of Celestia’s confident smile was all Twilight could muster as she struggled for a polite way to decline the offer.
Finally after an uncomfortable period of silence, Twilight sighed and resigned herself to having some soup.
Since she had arrived in Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle had seen and done many things she’d never believed she would. Shoveling snow without magic, face down a fully grown dragon, stop an invasion, become an alicorn… but one thing that she’d never considered was trying food made from an animal.
She had been silent on the matter, not wishing to judge her pegasi and earth pony friends for it but she couldn’t help but feel squeamish as she reluctantly flew down to where the scarecrow was standing beside the earthen crock.
While she liked to think was as far removed from the Canterlot nobility’s snobbishness as Rainbow Dash, there were some habits and opinions that Twilight had picked up simply by proximity. Most of these haughty proclivities she could bury under hard-learned social maturity and patience, but here was one she had yet to encounter as she was handed a steaming bowl of brown liquid.
Twilight’s lip quivered, the fish she saw on rarity’s plate had at least not looked like a slimy fish. The sight of those bones and heads had reminded her of garbage and cat food, things that no self-respecting Unicorn would touch if she could help it.
The polite smile on Lord Barleycorn’s face, the one beneath the mask did little to reassure her despite its gentleness. As she stalled by blowing on a spoonful, she asked herself ‘what would Celestia do?’
"If Lord Barleycorn is indeed a king, she’d accept any gift he gave her with grace and dignity… which I guess means I have to too…" Twilight sighed.
Despite the beguiling odor, Twilight expected a thick sliminess as she brought the spoon to her mouth. She ate it quickly, expecting a foul aftertaste but to her surprise she found only a pleasant taste she’d never experienced before. She could detect the flavors of familiar vegetables, but the stock left a savory and wholly unique taste that she would have said was very tasty… if she could forget where that stock had come from.
With her obvious approval of the meal, ponies began to cue up in an orderly line for a bowl of their own. Twilight stepped aside, making a show of enjoying her meal as Lord Barleycorn began to ladle out a bowl for one lucky stallion who had gotten to the front of the line. A few minutes passed, with the crock slowly being drained as bowl after bowl was given away.
The grey stallion who she had met in the forest (Leadfoot if Twilight remembered correctly) soon appeared at the head of the line, and Lord Barleycorn gave him two helpings and told him to ‘see that his sister wasn’t forgotten.’ Twilight was surprised and pitied the filly's bad luck, remembering her being extremely enthusiastic about Halloween but now was missing out on what should be a fun night.
"So… um, do spirits like soup?" Twilight asked, struggling for a means of conversation.
"I’m sure some like it more than others, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything, pony or otherwise say they hated all forms of soup." Lord Barleycorn shrugged, "But I get the feeling that’s not the question you want to ask."
"Heh, yeah..." Twilight fidgeted, "I know you’ve got your erm, sleeves full? I’d like to ask you about the ceremony, if I could."
"She’s rigid as a board and looks like she’s slept less than me." Lord Barleycorn turned toward Pinkie, "Can you handle this for a moment?"
Pinkie sat straight and saluted before taking Lord Barleycorn’s spot behind the earthen pot, the ladle held somehow in a strand of her pink mane.
"Come then, we’ll speak away from the crowd." The scarecrow said, gesturing toward a bench on the boardwalk.
Twilight levitated her bowl to Pinkie, hoping she would take it. Instead, Pinkie refilled it and smiled so proudly Twilight could have counted her teeth through the mouth of her mask.
"Thanks." Twilight grumbled, taking her bowl with her as she followed Lord Barleycorn.
The scarecrow looked funny sitting on the pony-sized wooden bench. His knees were almost up to his chest, but he didn’t seem to be discomforted by this position. Twilight set her bowl down by the foot of the bench before laying on it like any pony would.
Some ponies were watching from the line, but most were trying to be polite and not gawk at her. It was the best she could hope for without going to get without hiding inside one of the stores or in the alley like some two-bit Los Pegasus punk.
"Thanks for taking the time for me, I know you’re busy." Twilight said, keeping her eyes low to the ground.
"Don’t mention it. I sorta needed the break." Lord Barleycorn yawned, "Now, I have a few guesses about what’s troubling you but I’ll let you ask the question."
Twilight glanced at him for a moment, but soon faced the scarecrow with a look of determination.
"I need to know more about the ceremony at the standing stones." Said Twilight, a thin frown on her muzzle, "I’ve interviewed every pony I could find here about it, and I’ve gotten so many details about it, but so many of them are contradictory."
"Oh yeah?" Lord Barleycorn tilted his head, "In what way?"
"Well, in one account the pony leading the ceremony starts by ringing a bell three times, takes exactly five steps within the circle and speaks in the pre-unification earth pony language. Another says to start by roaming around the circle tolling the bell every seven steps while keeping completely silent. Then there’s-"
"I think I get it the picture," Lord Barleycorn said, stopping Twilight as she grew more and more frustrated in her explanation. "She’s just going to worry herself sick if she does this. Maybe I can set her mind at ease..."
The scarecrow leaned back on the bench, his head resting against the building behind them, "But if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it so much."
Twilight stiffened, rising up to a sitting position on the bench, "N-not worry about it? B-but you said I had to perform the ceremony at the stones, how can I do it at all if I don’t know how to do it correctly?"
Lord Barleycorn turned his head, and Twilight could see one of his small eyes looking down at her from under that mask, "Tell me, why is doing it ‘correctly’ such a big deal to you?"
"Because I-!" Twilight quickly reigned in her volume when she realized she was yelling, but she kept her frustration with the scarecrow blatantly obvious, "Because you made me promise to do this ceremony, but I can’t get anypony to tell me exactly what to say, what to do, or even exactly how many steps to take."
"I know that, and I appreciate you being so trustworthy to follow through with that promise. I don’t think anypony else would have been so thorough as you." Lord Barleycorn nodded, taking little notice of Twilight’s irritation, "But have you asked yourself why these accounts are all different?"
Twilight’s withers sagged, "Because… all of the ponies I talked to were very young with… questionable recollections?"
"Because the ceremony itself is a lot of empty pomp and pageantry." Lord Barleycorn corrected, his voice low like a twinge of annoyance, "And take heed, I do not like what you’re insinuating about the elders of this town."
Twilight clenched her teeth and flinched, almost like she was expecting something worse than a simple reprimand, "But… you said the ceremony would appease the guardian. If it’s meaningless then why do it at all?"
Lord Barleycorn sighed, "It may be pageantry, but it’s far from meaningless, Twilight Sparkle. You wouldn’t say a birthday party your friends throw you is meaningless, not to you or them."
Twilight blinked, then tapped her chin with her hoof, "So it’s not just for the spirits?"
"Correct, this whole thing is for the ponies of Hollow Shades to thank the spirits in a solemn and respectful manner." Said Lord Barleycorn, "To go back to my earlier example, you wouldn’t want the same birthday party every year, same cake, same presents, all exactly the same down to the number of steps taken to the table, would you?"
Twilight knew she wouldn’t, "So the ceremony is different each year."
Her answer earned her a nod of the Autumn King’s head, "Exactly. My advice: think about what you would do to show respect to them. Keep it quiet, simple, but reverent."
A whole ceremony she could tailor to her tastes? Twilight could hardly believe it was that easy after days of pouring over so much testimony.
"Are you sure I can do that? I mean… I’ve never done this before. What if I do something that displeases the guardian?" Twilight asked.
A sleeved hand rested on Twilight’s head, and once again Lord Barleycorn ruffled her mane. The scarecrow seemed to enjoy doing that to her.
"Twilight, you’ve studied the dance, you know the steps, all the moves, make it your own." Lord Barleycorn chuckled, "As long as it comes from a sincere place in your heart, you can’t fail."
"You’re seriously telling me to just wing it." Twilight said flatly, "That’s fine?"
Lord Barleycorn gave her a reassuring pat on the withers, "Trust me, you’ll do fine. You still have plenty of time to figure out what speaks to you before the end of Halloween. Don’t think about the dance, just dance."
Twilight smiled and shook her head, "You’ve never seen me dance."
"If you need a tutor, I’ll see if I can pencil in some time tomorrow to lend you a hand." The scarecrow tipped his hat to her, "Or just to talk."
Twilight smiled, she liked the sound of that.
She rose off the bench and respectfully nodded her head, remembering not to bow to him this time, "I’d appreciate it very much. Thank you for speaking to me."
"The pleasure was mine." Lord Barleycorn said, "Don’t forget your soup though."
Twilight’s smile faltered, but she nevertheless floated it up to carry it away with her.
Lord Barleycorn watched her walk away, before sinking back in the bench and glancing toward the dark woods.
"I have no idea if I just did the right thing or not..." Jack thought, "If I’m wrong someone in there is gonna be pissed."
---
To be continued…
---
over 14 pages of scrapped material later: its here. I had to bash my head against the wall a lot but I aim to deliver the end of this story. Real life drama caused me to shelf the story while I tried to sort things out, and I honestly could not focus on writing until I felt like I had my feet under me.
I've decided to trust my editors and upload it as soon as possible since you've all waited long enough, even if I think its beneath my standards. I'm so, so sorry. 
*For those of you who are confused, 'tattoo' can mean a design on the skin or the beating of a drum.
Edited by Courage Fire, and help from countless people I am incredibly grateful to.
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I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment at the end. Its less about the exact method of the ceremony, and more about the sincerity of it.
I also love the stone soup reference. I wonder how many others will catch on.
As a side note, i believe Pinkie knew what was going on the whole time. And she also knew that Barleycorn was doing it all to make the town smile, so she agreed to play along wholeheartedly.
Yes.
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Well, I was kinda going for the old mardi gras tradition of begging for jumbo ingredients that's fed to the whole community, but Jack can't exactly make a decent jumbo on just autumnal scraps... and jumbo without crawdads/shrimp is just criminal. But I can see where you'd connect it to stone soup. I wish I'd thought of that.
Dude..appreciate your hard work and effort to make this possible. Hope that in the future, there's not as long of a hiatus, but I know that promising that is quite....impossible. Just keep doing what you're doing because this story is still such a delight to read, even after all these years.
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That means a lot, thank you.
le woot, das story not only lives but meets expectations too.
also silly purple horse
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lives and two pages of the next chapter are written.
The very best thing to wake up to.
Loving the bits about the soup but worrying about the illness, did she catch something from Jack?
Also, the "ritual" is likely correct. The meaning is more important than the words, so to speak.
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Stone soup?
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Also called nail soup. It's about a stranger who comes into town and says that he's got a magical soup stone. He throws it into a boiling pot of water and tastes it, and tells the onlookers that the soup tastes wonderful, but it would do just a little bit better with some potatoes, and then some carrots, and then some onions, and then some... and so forth.
Finally there's proper soup with the stone/nail/whatever laying innocently at the bottom, getting all the credit.
Edit: The moral of the story is different. In some stories the owner of the stone is a con-artist, selling the stone afterwards for an outrageous sum.
In others he's a benevolent traveler who comes upon an impoverished area and teaches the villagers to share what meager resources they have for the better of them all.
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A FEAST! WE MUST PREPARE A FEAST!
There's a part that repeats with some alterations about how Twilight regrets writing all the notes and how all the villagers went on tangents and so on. ("For her, the day had consisted...") I'm guessing it's a rewritten paragraph that you forgot to delete?
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Oh, thanks for the info.
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EVERY writer has beaten there head against a wall at lets once in there life time; metaphorically or physically.
NO! Bad doctor! You do NOT give antibiotics to someone you suspect of having a virus-induced illness! That is how you breed antibiotic resistant strains of sickness!
Ahem. Sorry. One thing I noticed was that you seemed to omit something from a sentence...
There should be an "I know" in there, right?
Anyways, fantastic chapter and I'm glad to hear that your not letting that pesky reality from getting you down. Stay awesome!
It's so nice that this updated.
Foal sick with strange but seemingly benign illness, Pinkie sense spasm in her presence, surly doctor looking in dusty medical book to pass the time.
Yea, I have a very strong suspicion that foals strange illness is not as benign as it seems.
It lives
Another amazing chapter.
All tho, that foreshadowing with the doctor and the sickness worrys me abit.
Glad to see a new chapter. I hope whatever crazyness that is happening in your life is better now. And this was a amazing chapter as always
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The next chapter will explore more of that.
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Yup. Fixed it. thanks for calling it out.
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The first one you could blame on the hangover, the second one on me. Fixed it. Thanks for calling it out.
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I have failed you. :c
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Thanks for writing the story in the first place! Still an awesome ride.
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... you mean Gumbo ... right?
I wonder what the mysterious illness is, and whether or not there's some spirits other than Tia, Lulu, and Lord Barleycorn around...
Some of them can be very VERY picky!
9449084
Unless there's okra in there, no. Plus, no roux.
I think he meant jumbalaya.
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You mean jambalaya?
*Has a gf who works for BA at Google HQ... also went to culin school for a sem...*
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You'll find both spellings used, depending on where you're from. Even in published sources you'll find both. But in this case, if you are used to the 'jumbalaya' spelling, then a shorter version could be 'jumbo' especially if you've cobbled the two together.
9449316
Hm. That's for sure. Just got into a discussion for how to pronounce congee.
Always nice to see this update. I really do absolutely love this story.
Keep up the momentum!
9449084
... yes. I meant gumbo.
I think my brain's a little fried.
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Thanks, I'll do my best to get the next one out soon.
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next week huh?
9449788
No promises, but my goal is 'sooner than last time.'
Good to see you updating again, best of luck with the next chapter.
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I feel like I'll need it.
When the story starts with a word like that... xD
A good chapter though.
Discovered this story yesterday. Must say I'm really enjoying the story so far.
YAAAAY! More Corn!
Whoever decided that medicine should come in that revolting fake grape flavor should be dragged into the street and SHOT. I'm having horrible Dimetapp flashbacks. *shudder*
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Thanks. I try my best.
Thank you for continuing to share this tale with us :) It brings a smile to my face every time i see it :)
Have this seal of approval!
media.giphy.com/media/13zeE9qQNC5IKk/200.gif
Our scarecrow is getting deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole
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If nothing else, at least the annoyed spirits will be highly entertained by Twilight's, er, dancing... to be interpreted in the loosest sense of the word. (Or Twilight will summon Cthulhu asking what's all the racket is about. One or the other. It's all good)
...the filly's tender hooves could still be attributed to a simple cold however. I seem to recall myself feeling rather tender occasionally while sick as a kid (the Doctor is right about kids being little germ factories). Having to walk on open ground with rocks and roots wouldn't help in the slightest-- yet I still did as a clueless pre-teen all Summer, stepping on everything while going to a friend's house across the street when I lived in a far more rural area of the Northeast.
Also... what the heck happened to SomeOtherCelestia and WeAreNotLuna? I coulda swore they were prowling Barlycorn's trail at some point during this story.
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You'll see.
There's this theory I've had for a little bit...I can't remember if it's something I read in the comments for an earlier chapter or not. But I think that Hollow Shades's problems might stem from its proximity to something that's not from Equestria.
Ponies probably won't abandon a business that's a town's sole livelihood and leave said town to rot without even come down to inspect it...but that's a result you might see from a distant and uncaring property owner here on Earth.
Ponies with close-knit and supportive families aren't supposed to reject that family so thoroughly that they can't stand the thought of even taking their name...but we can imagine a human doing it (albeit in noteworthy circumstances).
Clouds in Equestria are supposed to be low enough that they can be easily grabbed and dragged about, and wild weather follows no pattern...but we live on a planet right now where clouds are literally miles up in the sky, and its rhythms can be mapped by those who take the time to study them.
I think a little bit of Earth's narrative logic is leaking into Hollow Shades.
I have caught up and I'm more terrified that celestia and Luna are gonna do something very very stupid