45. Am I intruding?
The Tale of Lord Barleycorn
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Chapter 45: Am I intruding?
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Applejack felt like a deflated balloon.
Both she and Rarity had followed Twilight back from the forest, words unable to form on their lips as they trotted on weary legs. Conversely, the princess of friendship however was a bundle of energy. Not one second of the walk from the Standing Stones to Hollow Shades did she pause the verbal monsoon that fell from her lips.
All Applejack wished to do was to return to her bed and lay down. Her heart had been in her throat for what had seemed half her life while that dreadful goat stood behind her friend. The look in its haunting eyes had been the most unnatural thing she had ever seen. It was as if it were the raw stuff of every ghost story Granny ever told her as a child-- all rolled into one singular creature.
Rarity looked no better. The unicorn looked older in a way, like she too wanted to escape into slumber and forget everything that they had been witness to.
Applejack didn’t blame her.
She’d simply settle to not hear another word from Twilight for a half hour. Any more talk of magic, spirits, and dancing and she felt like she might be the first pony in Equestrian history to be sent to the Canterlot dungeons for trying to put a muzzle on a princess.
From the way Rarity was glowering at their mutual friend, Applejack reasoned she felt the same way.
With that settled, Applejack and Rarity both slowed their gait, letting Twilight march further and ahead as she continued the loudest inner monologue both of them had ever heard. Once the alicorn had achieved sufficient distance, both unicorn and earth pony split off as quietly as possible. Applejack opted for the Rusty Nail, for while it wasn’t the healthiest of choices, it felt like the last place in Hallow Shades that Twilight would venture into.
Before she dipped inside the bar, Applejack happened to glance over to see her alabaster friend almost throw herself into the tailor shop. The corner of Applejack’s mouth turned up as she could only imagine what that stallion must think of a mare with Rarity’s features choosing to hide in his establishment. The two had worked together a lot, and mares in quiet towns like this liked to gossip. Rarity might be getting a few nudges from local mares, or jealous glares, depending on their opinion of the tailor.
Gossip and potential amusement at Rarity’s expense aside, Applejack had decided that since she was here in this rustic tavern, that she had developed a hefty thirst.
Being one of the few customers with bits to spend, Applejack was afforded what the bartender graciously referred to as ‘the good stuff.’ A glass was set on the bar and she watched as a golden-brown liquid was poured. No questions were asked about why she wanted a drink, which Applejack appreciated as she didn’t want to become the center of attention by telling what would become Hollow Shades’ newest ghost story.
The whiskey was quite good. It bit like fire but quickly shifted to a smooth and oaky taste that was immediately preceded by a familiar fuzziness at the base of Applejack’s brain. A second glass was sipped rather than the fast guzzling death that its predecessor suffered. She leaned over the bar, reveling in the momentary calm as she focused on the buzzing in her head.
Weariness, either born from anxiety, fatigue, or the alcohol, crept into Applejack’s body and the need to lay her head down on the scuffed, dubiously clean bar top became increasingly appealing. An impromptu nap sounded like just the thing to push all the bad thoughts away.
Applejack’s eyes had barely closed when the door of the Rusty Nail opened, and a newcomer set her eyes on the young Apple.
“Applejack!”
It didn’t matter if Applejack had had one or a thousand glasses of whiskey. That shrill, old voice would have her sober (or at least some loose approximation of it) in an instant. She sprang up, sitting straight and stiff as a board as she whirled around on her stool, praying in those partial seconds that what she heard had just been the briefest of nightmares.
Reality however was proven to be far crueler than any nightmare, as Granny Smith marched her way across the wooden floor of the Rusty Nail. Her glare so venomous even the resident drunks were pulling away from the doddering old nag as she stomped past them.
There was no time to quickly return the nearly depleted glass of whiskey to behind the counter, out of Granny’s sight. Applejack knew that her elder had caught her drinking, something the Apple matriarch had boxed Big Mac’s ears for on more than one occasion. The fact her brother didn’t have a permanent limp from the last time Granny caught him fermenting apple cider was a tribute to the body’s ability to repair itself after grievous bodily injury.
“Ah turn this town near half upside down lookin’ fer ya, an’ I find ya in here, suckin’ down rotgut in a place like this.” Granny said as she gave her granddaughter a look that could have melted snow in january.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the bartender looked a bit offended that his best liquor was being called ‘rotgut’ but a lifetime of dealing with hotheaded drunks had taught him to pick his battles.
“Well, ain’tcha got sumthin’ to say for yerself?” Granny said, her scowl seeming to heat up.
“Ah jus’... needed to get mah head on straight, Granny. Ain’t like Applebloom’s here to see this.” Said Applejack.
“You must think ah’ve gone soft in the head if’n ya think ‘gettin’ yer head on straight’ means drinkin’ like a fish. When we git back to the farm yer gonna get a big reminder of what Ah think of places like this.” Granny then looked at the bartender, her expression softening for a half second to cough out a quick “No offense.”
The stallion behind the counter rolled his eyes, “None taken.”
“You came all the way here just to fetch me?” Applejack sobered up a little, “Did sumthin’ happen to the harvest?”
Granny shook her head, “Nah, Ah came to see if what I’m hearin’ about this ol’ town is true. Lotta mares around the farmer’s market kept sayin’ some interesting things about this ol’ place, and Ah gotta say it certainly looks the part.”
“What do you mean by ‘Looks the part?’” Applejack asked, eager to push the conversation further away from her choice of drink.
“Like this place got a hint of the ol’ stories.” Granny gave a sniff of the air, “Ah kin almost smell it in the air.”
A few of the bar patrons were now taking interest in what Granny Smith was saying, and a few that had previously pulled away from the old mare were now leaning in to listen in on their unguarded conversation.
Applejack set her hooves on the floor. Despite feeling clear headed she felt the wobble in the world that reminded her that she wasn’t entirely free of the whiskey’s effect.
“Granny, how about Ah take you out to that restaurant over yonder where we kin talk more privately?”
The offer was greeted with a degree of skepticism that Applejack wasn’t prepared for. The old mare looked around at the barflies who quickly pretended to be looking at anything besides Granny before she looked back at her granddaughter. The cold, knowing smile on her wrinkled face made Applejack wish she’d asked for the whole bottle.
“Y’seen somethin’ didn’t ya?” Granny grinned wickedly.
Applejack felt as if a great weight began to press on her withers. Although the ponies around the bar weren’t looking at her, their ears were cocked in her direction. She hadn’t wanted to become the center of attention, and yet Granny was going to do just that. Like some angered fairy tale witch, Granny had appeared to punish her for drinking--one way or another.
“Yeah, but Ah don’t really wanna talk about it.” Applejack looked away from her grandmother as a draft tickled the hair on her back and she crossed her forelegs almost on reflex.
Granny saw the way Applejack held her legs and let out a cackle of amusement. This was so loud that Applejack swore she saw one of the brawny lumberponies bolt up in his chair as if he’d thought Granny was going to bite him.
“Oh Granny’s on another talk about forest spirits, better hide the knives n’ case she hurts herself.” Granny mocked, her smile remaining wide and proud as the crescent moon, “An’ all it took for you to go back on that neigh-sayer talk was just a few days out here. Maybe Ah should’ve brought Big Mac an’ Applebloom. Both of them could do with a bit a’ learnin’.”
Applejack only nodded, feeling like if she argued things would only turn out worse for her.
Seeing her granddaughter so cowed had Granny Smith consider her next move carefully, and she reached out with her hoof to give Applejack a hearty shake.
“An’ here Ah thought you’d never come around. Shoot, forget the drinkin’, if ya saw all that then maybe you needed it.” Granny laughed again, but this time it was full of the warmth and playfulness that Applejack was familiar with.
When Applejack had come into this bar, she was already emotionally drained from the intense fear she had experienced in the stone circle. Granny had given her a second spoonful of that anxiety and now was shocking her further by dismissing her well known opinion of alcohol for the sake of Applejack’s nerves.
Applejack felt a strong urge to test her luck and just order another round.
She was urged back onto the barstool, and Granny joined her, looking like a wrinkled weathervane as she sat next to Applejack. A glass of lemonade was set in front of Granny, although she was clearly willing to ignore the whiskey Applejack was drinking, she wasn’t going to join her.
Around them Applejack could feel the residents of the Rusty Nail were settling back down into their own conversations or quiet contemplations as they nursed their drinks. It seemed like she was no longer worth their attention.
“So, lemme hear it.” Granny croaked, “What could get you to look n’ act like a whipped dog?”
Whatever force had staved off the heavy buzz Applejack had accumulated seemed to ebb away as she rested her head on the counter. The words seemed to spill from her mouth as she stared at the glass that now taunted her, she simply couldn’t touch it under Granny’s withering gaze no matter how much she wanted to.
For the most part Granny listened quietly as her granddaughter rambled on. The first sighting of the black goat, the lights in the air that laughed like foals, Lord Barleycorn, and of course, what happened just before Applejack had crawled in here to hide from reality for a while.
Other than the occasional question Granny simply sat and listened to Applejack prattle on. There were a few times she hardened her expression when Applejack reached for the half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her, but no scolding came forward.
Finally when Applejack finished Granny nodded and downed the glass of lemonade the bartender had graciously provided for her. She took a deep breath and patted her granddaughter on the back.
“Landsakes, back home the ponies said this place as haunted but Ah ain’t never heard of so many spirits showin’ up at once.” A small, but somehow very giddy smile crept onto Granny’s face, “I thought the ponies at the market were spinnin’ tall tales about it, but maybe Ah should stick around a bit longer to see fer myself.”
Applejack turned her head on the counter so she could have both eyes on her senior, “You… wanna see these things, Granny? Ah thought you’d seen them plenty as a filly.”
“An’ that was a long, long time ago.” Granny said, “Frum what you’ve told me, you’ve seen more than Ah ever have. I’d like to see this here scarecrow. He sounds like a hoot.”
Applejack could only manage an exhausted chuckle. Maybe it was the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on, or maybe it was the whiskey but she didn’t feel she had the energy to deal with more drama today.
“If’n you’ve been here long enough, you run into that sourpuss Summer Harvest yet?” Granny asked.
Applejack let out a groan like she’d been stabbed.
“Ah reckon ya have.” Granny stated, flatly, “He still an ornery ol’ cuss?”
Applejack gave a weak nod.
“Well, if Ah happen to run into him Ah’ll show him Ah kin be just as ornery.” Granny smirked, “At my age Ah don’t have time to be indulgin’ some overgrown colt who wants to fight the world.”
“You get used to it.” Said Harvest Moon.
Applejack jerked upright so hard that she nearly threw herself off her barstool. With wide eyes she turned to face Harvest Moon, who simply stood behind her and Granny. A quick, furtive glance about the room revealed that Summer Harvest had not chosen to appear like Granny had. Despite having clearly overheard their comments, Harvest Moon seemed pleased to see them both.
“Granny Smith, right?” Harvest Moon inquired, “I haven’t seen you since… when was it?”
Granny cocked her head toward the ceiling and tapped her wrinkled chin, “Lessee here, it was about when yer first was still learnin’ to talk, an’ Ah still had a real hip. So, I reckon that’s near eighteen, nineteen years ago?”
“Sounds about right.” Harvest Moon looked to the stool beside Applejack, “Am I intruding?”
Granny, seeming to find Harvest Moon’s approachable attitude refreshing, gladly offered the seat to the brown mare.
“Mighty fine timing runnin’ into you here, Moony. Don’t suppose your husband approves of ya comin’ in here often though, ah reckon.” Granny said, sounding a little concerned for the younger mare.
Harvest Moon gave a look around the bar with casual disinterest, “I don’t see why, I know everypony here. Everypony does.”
Granny seemed a bit shocked, but chose not to press the issue, “What brings you here?”
Harvest Moon let out a sigh, “I was looking for Applejack, hoping we could talk. I hadn’t expected to find you here in the middle of the harvest festival. I thought you’d be back in Ponyville for sure.”
Applejack mumbled something into the countertop. She reached for her glass but sadly it remained empty.
Granny gave a shrug, “Lotta ponies been talkin’ about strange goings-on ‘round here. Figured Ah didn’t wanna be out of the loop fer once.”
Harvest Moon nodded, as if she already grasped what Granny really meant. “As for my husband, he doesn’t know I’m here. And I’d like to keep this quiet for now. I’m guessing Applejack might’ve already told you about what else is going on in our neck of the woods?”
“Can’t say I have,” Granny cast a sideways look at Applejack, “Somethin’ been lurkin’ ‘round yer farm that really shouldn’t be?”
This question earned the aged mare a confused frown, but Harvest Moon quickly shook her head, “No, nothing like that. In fact if anything the spirits have never been kinder in our hour of need.”
Applejack raised her head, “Ya mean Lord Barleycorn?”
“Among a few others, but that’s not exactly what I’m gettin’ at.” Harvest Moon’s eyes lowered to the bar counter, “Applejack already knows our farm ain’t doing so well.”
For a moment Granny Smith looked like she was about to say something, then stopped herself. “An’ if Summer was here you wouldn’t be tellin’ us this.”
“It’s why I’m here all by my lonesome, yes.” Harvest Moon said in a reserved tone, “With all the money we’d need to pay off our loans and keep the farm in our name, but something’s come up and I came here to beg for help.”
This news seemed to touch Granny, and she leaned as best she could on the counter and over her still slouching granddaughter to give her aged ears a little better reception.
“Y’see, my daughter just came down with something and…” Harvest Moon said, quietly, “It’s come down to the farm or her life. Obviously we’re gonna pick her, naturally.”
“Naturally.” Granny said approvingly.
“But, I know my husband’s going to eat himself alive without the farm. I came to see if-”
Granny held up a hoof, “To see if’n you could get a loan or sumthin’ from Applejack.” She then rolled her eyes, “I kinda wondered when the Harvests would need us to bail them out when ol’ Apple Harvest dumped all the seed we gave him an’ skedaddled out here to work as a lumberpony. Never had any sense and was hard headed as a brick.”
Regardless of Granny Smith dressing down the family she had married into, Harvest Moon couldn’t argue in the face of providence. She simply grit her teeth and bounced her head as if she was marginally agreeing with Granny’s words.
“Of course, that don’t make ya any less family.” Granny said, the sharpness in her voice ebbing away, “You only need to ask an’ we’ll try’n figure out how to sneak some money into yer pocket.”
At first, Harvest Moon simply stared at the wrinkled green mare. Applejack too had refocused her attention on Granny and the thin, cut of a smile on her aged face.
“Th-thank you Granny.” Harvest Moon grinned, “I didn’t think you’d just offer the money like that.”
Granny waved off the younger mare’s thanks, “Bah, what’s money when yer relatives need help? And don’t worry about Summer, if he really won’t let it go, just let the ornery little sourpuss be mad at me.”
“I’m already resigned to hearing him yell, but let him yell. But I think if the money shows up to help our filly and help us keep the farm that it’ll just be performative anger.” Harvest Moon rolled her eyes, “Honestly, I thought you’d fight me a bit more than that. I may not be invested in this… disagreement between Summer and your side of the family, but I wasn’t so sure if you could even afford it.”
“Ya ain’t really told us how much this’ll cost. How much this doctor say its gonna run ya?” Said Applejack, who had seemingly found her tongue.
While Applejack had finally spoken up, the Harvest mare grew quiet. She looked over to the bartender and tapped twice on the bar. He gave her a nod, recognizing the non-verbal request for a drink. Lumberponies too tired to speak often requested drinks this way, and Granny watched with mild surprise as a glass was poured for Harvest Moon, just like the one in front of Applejack.
After Harvest Moon had had a sip of the latest addition to her tab, she said; “Seven hundred bits.”
Both Granny and Applejack simply gawked at the brown mare. Seven hundred bits was a lot of money yes, but it was hardly what they’d call breaking the bank.
“You n’ Summer are that hard up for money, honey?” Granny offered, hoping to help move the conversation along.
Harvest Moon nodded, “All the money we’ve earned is, or was going toward a loan payment. We’ve been treading water for years, but the money this year’s given us would have been enough to pay it on time and have a little left over. Not seven hundred but enough to keep us going.”
“That’s good to hear,” Granny said, “And its ‘cause of these ponies comin’ to see the spirits I’ve been hearin’ about?”
Applejack could see a sparkle in Granny’s eye. As old as she was, Granny still had something of an excitable child in her when it came to ghost stories. Suddenly it made sense why Granny would venture all the way here to Hollow Shades, by herself, with her aching hips.
A chance to meet Lord Barleycorn would likely be enough to make Granny giddy for the rest of her days.
However, the fact this was all over what was effectively a month’s worth of Sweet Apple Acre’s income really put things into perspective. Applejack knew Hollow Shades was dirt poor, but hadn’t expected this trouble with the Harvests to be over such a pitiful amount.
“Considering that Nightmare Night is tomorrow, and what I’ve seen so far I’d almost guarantee something happening.” Harvest Moon quickly added, “And if only Lord Barleycorn appears, then that’s good too.”
Granny gave a smile, “So when does this feller show up?”
“About sundown, sometimes with a field spirit dressed in rags.” Harvest Moon grinned, her hopes higher than they had been all day.
While the two mares gabbed about spirits, Applejack slipped off her barstool with her glass. Granny had been so absorbed that she hadn’t noticed Applejack take it with her. Like a mouse slinking into its hole Applejack felt like she merged into the crowd of ponies seated in the Rusty Nail. A quiet booth, out of sight of the bar, was perfect. Her head laid back down on the unyielding wood as she signaled for a waitress to refill her glass. The murmuring around her and the occasional words from her relatives seemed to become white noise as she grew more and more relaxed.
Without meaning to, Applejack settled into a midday nap inside the Rusty Nail.
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To be continued…
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Huh, wasn't expecting Granny to show up, but the story's much improved for it.
Yes, seven hundred bits/dollars may not seem like all that much, but if you can't get seven hundred bits/dollars it doesn't need to be any more.
Holy applesauce, it's our favourite adventurous senior mare! And just in time too, to put a whole new fun spin on a story that got surprisingly grim.
Yea, lemme tell you, in a different reality from financial stability, 700 coin is a world of difference. Living on the razor's edge is a tough full time activity, and while you learn to stretch every cent, that elasticity only goes so far.
Now, while AJ sorts her brain and heart out with some relief, let's just hope her unobserved and perceptive grandma plays along when she inevitably finds out the King of Autumn is "just" an ayy lmao
It's alive!
It's good that Granny Smith is willing to move past the feud.
This was a lovely scene and an unexpected character. The character moments in this story are always a delight.
I'm intrigued. I'll give this a go later.
Poor lassies. Hopefully those two can recover from that expereince.
A wild Granny appeared! And I can kinda see how her behaviour and those like her in the family might have ruffled some feathers in the past, particularly someone prideful. Too many cocks in the henhouse, maybe.
Can't wait to see how she reacts to Jack.
Expression
Awesomely fun chapter, and everyone handles fear or the tense aftereffects of pure terror differently. Others rattle, some get chatty. Least we know what our local purple nerd gets up to when she gets spooked.
I am pleasantly surprised to see Granny Smith show up, i look forward to her interaction with the spirits especially.
Also:
Did you mean "any less family"?
Almost expected her.
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fixed them both. thanks for pointing them out.
The spirits demand SACRIFICE!!
So give them Rainbow Dash. Everyone likes to taste the Rainbow!
Can't wait to see what shenanigans Granny's presence adds.
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Sounds very much like my parent's finances, every dollar accounted for and not a penny more. More than once I'd be the money tree they would have to shake for a loan too small for any bank but too much for their social security to handle all at once.
That aside, I'm really hoping to see more of Granny interacting with the spirits and Lord Barleycorn himself. That and somepony who can give as good as she gets from the ornery ponies of the town.
Properly in-character given Perfect Pear, Granny Smith was always willing to have as big a feud as possible, but drop it if it actually came down to peoples' lives. My grandmother was actually a lot like that, her entertainment was getting into fights and feuds, but only at the superficial level.
The real interesting thing is that 700 bits is a month's worth of Sweet Apple Acres' income. Then again, I'm thinking gross income. I suppose net income, after expenses including paying wages that would make more sense.
Thanks for the update
I know this was written across 8 years, but this is completely unfocused.
Nice update as usual. I hope everything pans out well for everyone
Just finished reading through what you’ve written so far, and this story is great!
A nice HiE angle that I haven’t really seen done before. The Autumn/Spirit theme is very enjoyable.
700$ for someone with a job in Europe? Not much.
700$ for someone in a third-world country? Too much.
Just finished reading it all again. Truly a delightful story. I hope to see more soon!
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one more conversation and its off to editing.
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Wonderful! Have a fun time of it.
Well then, this was an exceptionally well written, cozy chapter! Love the addition of Granny Smith, too. Good job word-smith!
Holy fuck that goat ghost terrifies me.