Harvest Moon

Big Macintosh wiped the sweat from his brow as he bundled together yet another patch of wheat. It was a good few hours after sundown, and the rest of his family was soundly asleep in the Apple family house. Little Applebloom, honest Applejack, and little old Granny Smith had worked all day and deserved their rest; he, on the other hand, had much more to do before he went to sleep. The light of the moon shone brightly over the field the farmer was working in, and for once the sky was cloudless as could be. The orangish tint was not one he was used to, but for him, it was a nice little surprise for working out under said moon.

“Gotta get this section done before the mornin’ light,” he muttered to himself as he prepared to stack the bundle of wheat onto the wagon near him. It was already very full, but he managed to throw yet another bundle up on top of the pile. The dusty residue that fell from the stacks seemed to hover in the air before settling, as there was no breeze this night to disturb it. “Shouldn’t take much longer, I reckon.”

Indeed, it would not take much longer, given how hard the farmer pushed himself to get this job done. It might seem like overkill to some, but to Big Macintosh, working hard was what he knew how to do best. Hard work had been born into him; it had molded him throughout his entire life. He was not yet a man when the burdens of a great responsibility had been hoisted onto his shoulders, and in the ensuing years, he had learned that hard work always paid off.

Taking care of the farm and his family were the most important things in his life; nothing outside of some down-to-earth lady catching his eye and wishing to settle down with him on the farm could ever hope to change that. He knew few if any of the women in Ponyville would be up to the task of both bearing him strong, healthy children and still be able to work this farm like he and the rest of his family did. In all likelihood, it would have to be some stranger from out of town, and even then the odds weren’t that much in his favor.

Backbreaking work and potential partners aside, Big Mac knew that his sisters depended on him to do most of the heavy lifting, as even with their combined strength they just couldn’t do it by themselves. Harvesting the majority of the apples in a short amount of time took a lot of teamwork, but he did most of the transporting of them anyways. His sisters always had trouble getting the oxen to pull the plows or the team of horses to pull the wagon whenever there were heavy loads. Perhaps it was his own innate aura of masculinity and a sense of doing much of the same kinds of work that helped Big Macintosh coerce the big bulls and stallions to do more work. Or maybe it was the sugar cubes and carrots he’d slip them when he thought nobody else was looking.

The instant the bales were all set up and tied down so as to not fall off the cart, Big Macintosh set off across the field, the moonlight playing off of his glistening skin. A man’s man in every way, he was the epitome of what a life of farming could do to one’s body; he had a slight hunch from bending over so much, but he still at least appeared to be standing upright. His back was massive, swollen with the muscles developed from lifting and supporting burdens it would take two or three city men to handle. Arms like cords of steel effortlessly worked the fields and at the same time carried his littlest sister home whenever she was too tired to walk back from school. His legs, longer but still proportioned with his body, were thicker than one might expect, since they had to support not only his great brawn but whatever he was carrying with him. All in all, he was a physical manifestation of testosterone and selflessness; a man of quality, family and the salt of the earth.

Perhaps that was why a certain pair of eyes watched him that night, their heart filled with a sort of happiness and sadness at the same time. This poor mortal worked himself far too hard, especially for what he earned. He could work even half as hard as he did and still make as much as he did for his family, but he never stopped working, it seemed. Even in his dreams, as the one silently floating on the winds knew, he worked, dreaming of the work he’d be doing the next day. To Princess Luna, it was not a bad life, but one tinged with a sadness she could not fully understand. She knew he could work less and still make what money he did, perhaps even more if his time was freed up to do other work for others, but regardless this farmer drove himself to the edge nearly every day to work as much as he could. She did not know why, and that she did not know had been bugging her to know end. So, in a fit of brilliance, she had chosen this one special night to pay him a visit, hoping to make sense of it all.

Big Macintosh continued through the field, his heavy footsteps leaving a trail of footprints behind him. The soil was a bit dryer in this field, as it did receive a tad more sunlight later in the day, since most of the other fields were more or less shaded by Ponyville’s neighboring mountains. If he did not have good hearing from having to listen for his sister’s calls from across the property, he might not have heard the slightest flicker of what sounded like wings beating gently in the air. He feared nothing this close to Ponyville descending down and attacking him, as manticores could barely fly as it was and cockatrices did not like open spaces, so he was unafraid of nighttime in the fields. Turning to look up at the noise, the farmer saw a glimmering figure descend from the sky, bathed in the light of moon. Normally, this could have been any of the people from Cloudsdale, but they were all asleep at this time, and the magic aura gave it away. This was Princess Luna, and as her thin, body-hugging and glistening cloak trailed behind her on a now breezeless night, she gently touched down upon the ground.

“Your majesty,” the farmer said upon instinct, bowing his head and kneeling down, not daring his eyes to travel up the princess’s long legs. "What brings you to this lowly farmer in the dead of night?"

“Lowly? I think not, good sir, for this farm is a bountiful and beautiful one to behold, at all times of the day." She cocked her head to the side, as if in thought. "Come now, Sir Macintosh, are you so ashamed of yourself as to not look at your princess?” Luna asked, smiling slightly. “Come, rise to your feet, and walk with me. I wish to speak with you on matters concerning you and your farm.”

The farmer rose quickly to his feet, daring to never do more than quickly look his princess in the eye before setting off with her at a slow pace. Her radiant beauty matched that of her sister, though in a different way, and he dare not to look upon her body, lest he begin to feel... uneasy. Besides, there were more important things to focus on. She wanted to talk with him about the farm: this was something he had not expected. Was there a new tax on apples going into effect? Were the upper class demanding more cider at a lower price? Countless thoughts such as these raced through his head for a short while, but eventually, they faded away when the princess didn't elaborate. As they walked, he could tell she was using magic to help move across the field; the slightly uneven terrain would have likely made her stumble every now and then. But no, her stride, while small and slow, was purposeful and effortless. His own surefootedness kept him more or less on a smooth motion of walking; you had to learn how to walk across a field if you were a farmer.

“Sir Macintosh, why do you do this to yourself?” the princess asked as they walked, her cloak trailing majestically behind her like a curtain of fog tinged with starlight. She wanted to hold his hand, if only to be a more reassuring presence, but knew the farmer would likely be terrified of such a prospect. Holding your dirty hands with those of a clean and pristine princess?

“Do what, your majesty?” the farmer replied, reining in his drawl as much as possible. He needed to speak as proper as possible in front of the princess, as was custom. It was hard, but he could do it, so long as he wasn't distracted.

“Work yourself to almost collapse, day in and day out, and nights as well, I might add,” Luna said, her path only known to her. She would not tell the farmer where they were heading; not yet, anyway. “You ceaselessly work these fields, orchards and pens, toiling and doing the work of three men. Why do you do this?”

“I’m a farmer, your majesty,” Big Macintosh said simply. “I have to work this hard, if I am to put food on the table for my family. So many others in Ponyville and other towns count on us having a good harvest year after year, and it is never easy to be both sustainable and successful.”

“Please, Sir Macintosh, speak with me as you would anyone else,” Luna replied, watching him wince slightly. Protocol was established by long-passed laws, but unknown to this farmer, the royal sisters preferred more open and, at times, local languages. Luna was no exception; she enjoyed the differences in speech among the subjects of the kingdom.

“Well, yer majesty, I don’t think I outta be callin’ you anythin’ not signifyin’ yer status,” the farmer replied, letting his drawl naturally flow back into his voice. "It just ain't proper, I reckon'."

“Please, call me Luna: ‘your majesty’ is far too formal for my tastes on a simple little walk such as this,” the princess replied. "We are not princess and farmer out here; here, we are simply two people out for a midnight stroll, free from the bounds of society."

“Um... okay, L-Luna,” Big Macintosh said. “Well, as I've said before, I work hard to feed and provide fer my family; nothin’ much more to it than that.”

“But so hard? You constantly do more than your fair share of the work, and in doing so, your sisters have so much more free time than you do? Doesn’t that make you feel... well, upset?”

“Ma’am, I love my sisters and grandma more than anythin’ in this world, and they’re the only close family I got. If them enjoyin’ life means I gotta work harder, then so be it.”

“My, that is a rather... selfless way of putting it,” Luna replied, the crunching of the soil under their feet the only other noise between them. “Though, I wonder, why work so hard? I have seen all the work you do, especially at night; and frankly, I question why you must do so much, if only for there to be different work tomorrow. Surely it would be easier to better manage jobs, so as to spread out the workload more efficiently?”

“Work’s gotta be done either way, and better sooner than later,” Big Macintosh said. “If I get hurt, who’s gonna do all the heavy liftin’ around here? Applejack wouldn’t have managed to harvest all them apples a few years ago if her friends hadn’t forced her ta ask fer help. Them apples are our biggest selling crop, Luna; without me around, this farm would fail.”

Luna sighed; even though his points were valid, this farmer was as stubborn as a mule. She didn’t want him to stop working altogether, or even cut back a good deal; she only wanted him to enjoy life a bit more. There was more to life than just working or getting ready for work, after all. Friendships to be made, relatives to visit, people to help free of charge; there was just so much this simple farmer missed out on.

“Big Macintosh, you never want this farm to fail, do you?” the princess asked. Over her lifetime on the moon, she had seen much, but one thing that had astounded her, even in her Nightmare Moon imprisonment, was just how long this Apple family had been caring for the lands all over Equestria. They were centuries in the making, this family, and like a mighty and ancient white pine, their roots ran deep in these soils.

“Eeyup,” he replied. “As long as I’m still kickin’, I’ll be workin’ these fields, or at least, doin' some work around here. There's always work to be done, after all.”

“I worry about people like you sometimes,” the princess said softly. “Workaholics, the lot of you. Working is a great thing, but to the extent you do... is this all because of your parents?”

Big Macintosh almost froze mid-step; how did she know? “Twilight tell ya about that?” he asked softly.

“She told me in a co-letter with Applejack, yes,” the princess said softly. “The day of the... accident, you were off swimming, were you not? Is that why you work so hard? To make up for some fault you feel was your own?”

“Yes, I... I was on a break. Pa had told me to go fer a swim for a bit, to loosen up after workin’ all mornin’,” the large man said, his voice soft. He was holding back a torrent of emotion, something he normally didn’t have to do. But the merest mention of his parents...

“There was nothing you could have done,” Luna said. “Applejack told me about the barn; if you had been helping your parents in there, you would have died as well when it collapsed.”

“No, that’s not true, I... I coulda done somethin’, anythin’,” the farmer replied, stopping in his tracks. His face was downcast, and the merest glimmer of a tear formed in the corner of one of his eyes. “If I hadn’t been lazy, if I coulda just... just worked a little longer, they might still-,”

“Sir Macintosh, stop right there,” Luna said, walking up to him and cupping his chin up so she could look up into his eyes. “There was nothing you could have done: do you understand me? You cannot, must not blame yourself for not being there. If you had been there, you too would have died in the collapse, and then where would your family be now, without you? What would this farm be not without the farmer it has now?”

Big Macintosh choked back a small sob and wiped the tear away on one hairy forearm. “I... I guess... I guess it wouldn’t be here,” he said slowly. “Granny Smith... she mighta had ta sell the place to relatives, and move in with relatives with Applebloom and Applejack. I... I-,” He wanted to cry; he wanted to cry so bad, it hurt. But he couldn't bring himself to in front of his princess; he just couldn't. The shame would be too great to bear, even compared to the shame he carried with him since the accident.

“Macintosh, you work so hard for the memory of your parents, something I cannot help but find admirable,” the princess said softly, looking into his soft eyes. “But you must let go of the past, as have I. It can be hard to let go, yes, and it can hurt even after many years, but you must let it go. When you work, I do not wish for you to focus on the pain of the past, but the promise of the future. The past can only drag you down, as it did me upon my return all those years ago. Was it wrong of me in the first place to become so bitter towards my sister and our subjects? Yes; was it wrong of me to still harbor those feelings when I returned? Even more so. But, was it wrong of me to accept my past and move on from that?”

“N-no,” the farmer replied, sniffling slightly. “No, you shouldn’t hafta hang onto the past like that. It'd destroy who ya are, and that's worse than bein' alone.” Big Macintosh was not a history expert, but something told him the isolation of Princess Luna on the moon for a thousand years would have likely crushed the spirits of any other person. Such a barren wasteland, far from the likes of others; it was a wonder she was still sane.

“Exactly,” Luna said, leading the large man slowly towards their final destination. “Now, when you work, I do not wish for you to focus on so tragic a past, lest it become your undoing. I want you to work for the family you have, for the life you live now, and for the hope of a better tomorrow. Heaven knows it gets me through the toughest times these days.”

“But... but what about-,” he started to say, but was interrupted by the tip of her finger softly pressing against his lips.

“Macintosh, your work should never make you unhappy, or else, why even do it?” Luna said softly. “I know the stresses of life can be put at bay by work, but in the end, denying the release you need will destroy you; wasted opportunities can build and eventually break even the strongest among us. I want to you relax every now and then; take a small break, if even for just a few minutes. I want you to enjoy your life; I’ve been alive for far longer than nearly everyone in Equestria, and my sister and I have seen much in our lives.” She sighed, almost in a sad way. “The lives of you mortals is so short in comparison to ours, but that makes it so much more beautiful to see and experience, I guess. You see only work to be done when you wake up and look out at your lands, Macintosh, but I see hope, opportunity and a chance at happiness. I want you to remember our conversation, sir, or I may have to talk with Twilight about this.”

“No, no, I’ll do as you say,” Big Macintosh said quickly. He wouldn't dare disobey an order from one of the princesses, especially one so beautiful, caring and gentle. Even though they had never spoken before, he couldn't help but feel a connection, one brought on by shared experiences of regret and repressed pain. Maybe someday they could talk like this again.

“This is not an order, Macintosh; this is a simple request,” Luna said as they stopped walking. The farmer looked up; they were at the door to the farmhouse, and not anywhere near the task he had been heading to originally.

“I’ll... I’ll do my best, yer majesty,” the large man said softly, cracking a small grin. He really did like her; maybe he could write a letter to her sometime, if he had the time to spare.

“Excellent,” Luna said, standing on her tippy toes. “And so, I leave with this, as a reward for listening to and talking candidly with your princess.”

The farmer felt a light brush of her lips against his, and for a moment, there was a connection, a spark he did not understand that shot from his heart and into his brain. He kissed, back, barely and for the briefest of moments, and then it was gone. He blinked, and in the time he did, she was gone; a thin mist that soon dissipated was all that remained of her.

The farmer, confused but with a lighter heart, walked inside the farmhouse, closing the door gently behind him. He looked up at the moon out of the window, smiled softly, and walked off to get ready for bed. As he crawled into bed, that night, unlike so many others in the past, only a sense of peace entered his mind.

Good thing too: there was plenty of work to do tomorrow, and he’d need his rest.