Cinnamon Roll, the daughter of Applejack, is getting married to Gulliand, the nephew of Gustave Le Grande. Together, they will open a restaurant in Griffonstone...unless their families have anything to say about it!
Cinnamon Roll, the adopted daughter of Applejack and Spike, is elated! Her Very Special Some-Griffon, Gulliand, has popped the question... and asked for her help to fulfill his dream of establishing a restaurant in Griffonstone! With a grant from the Royal Sisters, they work to make Gulliand's dream come true. Despite objections from both families, two disgruntled Griffon scone bakers, and a growing mountain of debt the two manage to persevere. But when Gulliand is forced to choose between Cinnamon Roll and his dream...will it all come crashing down? Or will true love prevail?
This is a sequel/side story to "The Chaotic Three: a Zany Story" which is set in Disneyfanatic's "Daughter of Discord" universe. Cinnamon Roll, Cinnamon Stick, Applespike, Zany, Jewel, and Twinkle all belong to DF. Gulliand the Griffon is my own creation.
It was late afternoon in Canterlot and rain was pouring down. It struck the windows of the small loft apartment with a sound like tiny hooves running over the glass. The room looked dim and shadowy in the gray light that filtered through the curtain-less windows. Even if the light had been brighter, it would not have improved the room’s appearance. The bed, which sat in a far corner, had not been made. A mess of balled up note paper, broken quills, and empty water glasses littered the floor around it. A small drop-leaf table that marked the dining area was piled with food stained books and half-empty bags of All Purpose flour.
Only the kitchen nook was clean and spotless. Next to the kitchen area, on the same wall as the oven, sat a gas lit fireplace. It was nothing fancy, just some fake logs lying on a fake stone hearth. The flames gave off a cozy yellow glow.
Cinnamon Roll sat on a blanket close to the warm flame. She could feel the heat on her dark brown fur and cream-colored mane. It reminded her of winter evenings back at Sweet Apple Acres, with her family gathered around the fireplace drinking hot apple cider and talking about their day. Of course, this fire didn’t crackle or have the homey smell of wood smoke. There were other smells in the air: the brown smell of fresh baked bread and the oily scent of frying. She caught her breath as she felt a warm body lightly press against her back.
“Is the blindfold on tight enough, Cherie?” a voice rumbled low in her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
“Good,” the voice murmured. Cinnamon Roll jumped as she felt a light nibble on her ear. “No cheating, now.”
“No cheating,” she answered, licking her lips. “I promise.”
The voice chuckled. “Eager, are we?” Cinnamon shivered as a talon lightly traced her cheek. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Oh, yes! Please!”
“Very well. Here we go!”
Cinnamon Roll felt something press against her lips. Eagerly, she opened her mouth and felt something drop on her tongue.
“Hmmmmmm,” she hummed, rolling the object along her tongue. “That is…a walnut!”
“Humph! Too easy!” the voice grumped. “How about…this!”
Cinnamon Roll tasted the next offering. It was nut-like but much smaller and there was more than one. She chewed thoughtfully.
“They’re small. They’re seeds. Not sunflower. I’d have to say…pine nuts?”
“Ha-ha! You’re good at this!”
Cinnamon Roll giggled. “Well, you are the one who introduced me to pine nuts, Gulliand. You got anything more challenging?”
“But, of course! Now, this one,” he said, holding the object so it just brushed her upper lip. “Has layers of different flavors.”
Cinnamon took the object into her mouth. She did not chew but ran her tongue over it, exploring its flavor. It was another nut…a nut any member of the Apple family would recognize…but there were other flavors with it. Sweet… Salty…
“It’s a pecan. Nicely toasted, by the way. Salted. With butter…” she paused.
“And?” Gulliand prompted.
Cinnamon smacked her lips. “Honey.”
“Ha! Perfect!” the griffon applauded. “Very good, my little sweet bun. But you need to mind your pronunciation. The word is ‘pe-CAHN’, not ‘pee-can’.”
Cinnamon rolled her eyes under the blindfold. “Well, that’s the way I was raised to say it! Granny and Ma always said it that way and so did all the Appleloosa kin!”
“Yes, Cherie,” Gulliand sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. “But in the rest of Equestria it is called ‘pe-CAHN’. A ‘pee-can’ is…well, something else.”
Cinnamon snorted. “Oh, all right! Pe-CAHN! Yeesh! I sound like a Canterlot snob.”
“Not at all, my little bun,” the griffon chuckled. “Now, are you ready to up the ante?”
“Ooooh! You mean combos?” cried the little mare, clapping her hooves eagerly. “Oh, yeah! Gimme!”
“All right. Try this first but don’t bite the fork!”
“Mmmmmm! Your lemon-blueberry pancakes with maple syrup!”
“Mm Hmm,” he hummed. “Now, taste this.”
“Whoa!” said Cinnamon, smacking her lips. “That tastes like goat cheese but it feels very creamy!”
“You are right! It is creamed goat cheese.”
Cinnamon made a face. “You’re gonna feed me lemon-blueberry pancake with maple syrup and GOAT CHEESE?”
“Oui!” Gulliand chuckled as he placed a healthy dollop of the whipped cheese onto a bite-sized piece of pancake. “Try it. I think you may be surprised.”
Cinnamon Roll wasn’t very convinced. Pancakes with goat cheese sounded like something Discord would eat for breakfast! But, she and Gulliand had played this game many times and the griffon had never steered her wrong. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and let him feed her a forkful.
“Oh, my gosh!” she said, her look of doubt blooming to one of wonder. “This is delicious! The goat cheese offsets the sweetness but doesn’t overpower it. It’s like cream cheese with a kick!”
“I knew you’d like it, Cherie,” Gulliand murmured. “You are not afraid of new things.”
He reached over to brush a crumb off her lip. Cinnamon bit down on his talon.
“Yeow!” he cried, snatching his hand back.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Sweetheart!” cried Cinnamon, horrified. “I-I-I thought you were feeding me another sample! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Cherie,” he assured her. “It was just a little nip.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed in relief. After a moment, she started to giggle. Gulliand narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“What’s so funny?”
Cinnamon grinned. “That tasted like griffon!”
She squealed as he pushed her onto her back and began to tickle. “Infernal female! How can a mare with such a sweet name be so full of salt?’ he asked.
“You need sugar and salt to make a good pudding,” she shot back.
“True.”
Cinnamon Roll felt his talons untie the blindfold and slip it from her eyes. Gulliand had tawny brown body with a white head and chest that glowed golden in the fire’s light. She stared up at him lovingly, her hoof softly stroking his neck. Slowly, he lowered his beak to her lips, his thin tongue lightly licking, begging for entrance. Her lips parted eagerly, her own tongue meeting his in an intimate dance.
Gulliand sighed in bliss. He felt her hooves slipping under his wings to caress the sensitive joints. He slid his hand down her side, the talons barely penetrating her fur. Cinnamon shivered at the delicate touch. She felt his hand reach her flank…then stop, just short of her cutie mark.
That was as far as they went. Cinnamon Roll had let him know when they first started dating that she preferred they not get…physical. Gulliand respected that.
“I love you, my sweet bun,” he murmured.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
Gulliand lay down on the blanket beside her and cuddled up close. For a long time, neither one spoke. Cinnamon Roll lay still, watching the fire light dance across the griffon’s face as his talon absently played with her mane.
“So,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Graduation is next month.”
Cinnamon Roll stiffened.
“Yes,” she replied quietly.”
“Are you going to miss college?”
"Yeah," she nodded. "It was kinda hard at first, but I wouldn’t trade my time there for the world.”
“Neither would I, Cherie,” whispered Gulliand, pressing his cheek against hers. “What do you plan to do after you graduate? Go back to Ponyville and find work as a chef?”
The question stung her heart. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I’ll probably just help around the farm for a while. You know, bucking apples, helping with the planting. I might help my brother and his wife with their muffin shop…”
“Why not have a restaurant of your own?” Gulliand asked. “You have the talent for it.”
“Yeah, I thought of that. The answer is there’s just too many restaurants and bakeries in Ponyville. There’s no way I could stand out.”
And there ain’t much point if you’re not gonna be with me.
Gulliand nodded. “And you are not interested in opening a restaurant in another city?”
“Not really,” replied Cinnamon. “I’ve had enough of big city life here in Canterlot. Besides, I’d need money to get started and…I really don’t want to ask the family for a loan right now.”
“I see.” The two of them lapsed into silence. Gulliand’s talon idly played with her mane, winding and unwinding a lock of hair around his finger.
“I am planning on going to Griffonstone,” he said slowly.
“Griffonstone?” Cinnamon Roll felt her heart drop to her stomach. “That’s…a long-ways off. I thought you might stay in Canterlot and work for your Uncle Gustave.”
“I considered that. But, Cherie, I am not a pastry chef! I enjoy creating savory soups and tasty dishes!”
“But, I didn’t know there was a restaurant in Griffonstone.”
“There isn’t! That is the whole point,” Gulliand explained eagerly. “There are no restaurants in Griffinstone and almost no bakeries. Mine would be the first!”
Cinnamon regarded him doubtfully. Sighing, Gulliand explained.
“This is an opportunity to bring something good to my hometown. Something that could give griffons a place to meet and eat good food. Maybe…help promote togetherness and friendship. I can even introduce them to dishes from all over Equestria! Be a cultural ambassador! There is so much good that food can do, Cherie! Our professors taught us that!”
Cinnamon Roll nodded. She could not disagree with his logic, but her heart still felt heavy. Griffinstone was a very long way from Ponyville. Gulliand took her hoof and gave it a squeeze.
“I…I have been thinking,” he said quietly. “If I do open this restaurant…I will still be needing someone who excels at baking desserts.” He paused and regarded her nervously. “And you, Cherie, are an excellent baker…”
Cinnamon caught her breath, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You…you want me to come with you? To work for you?”
“No,” said Gulliand, his voice husky with emotion. “I…I want you to be my partner.”
The little mare watched with wide eyes as he took her hoof and held it to his soft, feathery chest.
“Cinnamon Roll Apple-Dragon, will you marry me?”
Cinnamon choked back a sob as her heart leaped for joy in her chest.
“Y..yes! Sweet Celestia, yes!”
Gulliand gave a triumphant griffon screech-roar before gathering her into his arms. Her hooves locked around his neck as she happily sobbed into his feathers. They lost track of time as they shared the embrace. Only when the gray light coming through the window became dimmer and the shadows darker did they take notice.
“It’s getting late,” murmured Gulliand. “I should be returning you to the dormitory.”
“And the winner of the Ponyville Bake Off is…Cinnamon Roll with her Fiery Apple Pie!”
The brown filly stood frozen, her mouth open and her eyes wide as everypony broke into wild, stamping applause. It hardly seemed real. She had won! The biggest bake off in the history of Ponyville…over seventy-eight contestants…and she had won!
“YAHOO!” howled Applejack, throwing her Stetson in the air.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Confetti and streamers rained down on Cinnamon Roll as her friends, the Tri-Pies, shot off their party cannons.
“Yay!” cried Raspberry Pie. “That’s the way the Cinnamon 'rolls'!”
“She’s ‘bun’ up on the competition!” cheered Blueberry Pie.
“I hope it doesn’t ‘sting’ all you other contestants,” chimed Cherry Pie, wearing a bee costume.
Her sisters stared at her.
“What? I ran out of bun puns. Besides, it’s a good costume.”
“Go on, baby girl,” said Spike, urging Cinnamon Roll forward. “You earned this.”
Cinnamon Roll made her way to the stage. She was so overwhelmed, she hardly heard Twilight Sparkle’s congratulatory speech.
“Fillies and gentlecolts,” Twilight addressed the crowd. “This year’s Bake Off has been a rousing success! It was very hard for the judges to make a decision. You are all such talented bakers-- except for the pony who slipped in a Pickled Pepper Pie disguised as a Peach Cobbler—ZANY!”
She glared at the gray draconequess colt who was floating over the crowd. He grinned back at her impudently.
“Oh, please! It wasn’t that bad,” he replied. “Their taste buds should grow back by next week.”
Twilight closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten.
“As I was saying,” she resumed. “You are all such talented bakers, but Cinnamon Roll’s original twist on Granny Smith’s Apple Pie recipe clearly put her over the top! Care to tell the audience your secret?” she asked Cinnamon.
The filly blushed. “I added a small chili pepper to give it a kick.”
“Well, it certainly worked!” cried Twilight. “It kicked you right into First Place!”
The alicorn levitated a tall golden trophy shaped like a pony wearing a chef’s hat.
“Thank you,” Cinnamon Roll managed to whisper as she accepted the statuette.
“BUT that’s not all!” cried Twilight, her face shining with excitement. “This year, the winner of the Bake Off will be receiving something extra special! A prize from Princess Celestia herself!”
An excited buzz went through the crowd as the lavender alicorn produced a large, ornate scroll wrapped with a red ribbon and bearing the princess’s solar insignia.
“It is a full, four-year scholarship to none other than Canterlot Culinary College!"
There was a collective gasp of surprise followed by the thundering of stamping hooves. Cinnamon Roll stared at the proffered scroll, her mouth hanging open in awe.
“C-c-college? I get to go to college?”
Twilight nodded.
Cinnamon bit her lip, a small tear escaping her eye. “Oh, Wow!”
“Congratulations, Darling! You truly deserve it.”
“Yes, you are a great baker and I’m so glad you won.”
Cinnamon Roll blushed at the praise. “Thank you, Aunt Rarity, Aunt Fluttershy.”
Five of the Mane Six along with their families were gathered around a long table outside Sugar Cube Corners. Cinnamon Roll sat at the head of the table. Applejack, Spike and her brothers Cinnamon Stick and Applespike sat on her right. Granny Smith, Big Mac, and Cheerilee sat on the left. Rarity and Fancy Pants with their daughter Gemstone, sat next to them while Fluttershy, Discord, and Zany sat next to Applejack. Twilight Sparkle sat at the other end, flanked by the Tri-Pies and her husband, Flash Sentry.
“Your pie was amazing!” cried Pinkie Pie, bouncing up and plopping a beautiful white cake on the table in front of Cinnamon Roll. “I don’t know how you came up with the idea of chili peppers, but I’m glad you did! It was absolutely FUN-TASTIC!”
“Thanks, Aunt Pinkie.”
“Humph!” snorted Zany. “She puts pepper in a pie and takes first place. I make a whole pie out of peppers and everypony gets mad!”
“You were robbed,” murmured Discord. No one was sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
“Attention, everypony!” called Applejack, banging her hoof on the tabletop. “I just want to thank you all fer joinin’ us today to celebrate my baby girl’s First Place win!”
The friends all broke into applause.
“And her scholarship to the Canterlot Culinary College,” added Spike, reading the scroll Twilight had presented to Cinnamon. “It covers tuition, room and board, and even her books!”
“I can’t believe it!” Cinnamon Roll squeed, bouncing in excitement. “I just can’t believe it! I’m going to college! This is so wonderful!”
“I can’t believe it either,” said Applejack, wiping a tear from her eye. “An Apple…going to college!”
“Didn’t Big Mac attend college once?” asked Rarity, turning to look at the red stallion. “Some kind of Agricultural school, wasn’t it?”
“Eeyup,” replied Big Mac proudly. “ABAC. Alfalfa Bloomburg Agricultural College”
Applejack giggled. “Or as I used to tell him 'Alfalfa Bloomburg And Cow College'.”
Her brother gave a wry smile. “It was just a two-year college. I got mah Associates degree in Agriculture and Animal Husbandry.”
“You had to learn to be a husband to a farm animal?” asked Discord, feigning shock. He leaned over the table and spoke in a stage whisper. “Does Cheerilee know?”
“Discord!” Fluttershy hissed, giving her husband a poke. “It means he learned how to care for animals!”
“Just like you, dear!” he cried, winding his body around hers. “But since you’re a mare wouldn’t that be Animal Wifery?”
“Anyway!” said Applejack, getting the conversation back on track. “This’ll be the first time an Apple has gone to a full-on college! Though, I gotta admit I’m a bit confused. What is the Canterlot Culinary College?”
“Why, it’s only one of the best culinary schools in Equestria,” explained Fancy Pants. “Some of the most acclaimed chefs received their education there. Believe me, this is a great honor and opportunity for you, my dear.” He added to Cinnamon Roll.
“Well, I fer one don’t unnerstand wut all the fuss is about,” said Granny Smith, frowning. “When I was a filly, you didn’t need no fancy school to learn how to cook! My Ma taught me all I needed to know about cookin’! Shucks, I had Big Mac and Applejack makin’ biscuits before they wuz even outta diapers!”
“The school teaches more than just cooking, Mrs. Smith,” Fancy Pants explained patiently . “They give instruction on food preparation, service, catering and how to run a restaurant.”
Cinnamon Roll gasped. “R-r-restaurant?”
“Yes, darling,” said Rarity, beaming. “Most chefs go on to own their own businesses.”
Cinnamon’s mouth dropped open in awe. A restaurant! Her own restaurant! Her eyes glazed over. It was too good to be true!
“Watch out!” cried Twilight.
PLOP! Cinnamon Roll fainted, falling face first into the beautiful white cake. Spike and Applejack scrambled to pull her out while the others watched in concern. Pinkie stared in surprise at Cinnamon’s icing covered face.
“I guess she couldn’t wait for me to cut it.”
Later That Autumn…
“Bye, bye Miss Equestrian Pie
Our hearts are heavy
But you’re steady
And you’re ready to fly!
And your good old friends
Are eatin’ hot apple pie
And tryin’ really hard not to cry!”
Cinnamon Roll stood on the Ponyville train platform, surrounded by her family and friends. Pinkie’s daughters stood in a circle around the brown filly, hugging and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Thanks for the send-off, girls,” said Cinnamon, trying to comfort them. “But, you know I’m not goin’ away forever. I’m just goin’ to college. You’ll see me at Hearth’s Warming!”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Like mother, like daughter,” she muttered to Spike.
“Come on, girls,” said Spike, gently detaching the sobbing party ponies from his daughter. “We have to board the train now.”
“Bye, little sis,” said Cinnamon Roll’s older brother, Cinnamon Stick, giving her a hug. “I hope you like it up there in Canterlot.”
His wife, Dinky, gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll do great, I know!”
“We all know it!” said Twilight Sparkle. She turned to Spike. “Think you can find the campus?”
“Piece of cake,” replied Spike with a snap of his claws. “It’s on the main road leading to the School for Gifted Unicorns. As many times, as I stole pies from the window sills there, I oughtta remember it.”
“Oh, good…YOU DID WHAT?”
Everyone laughed as Spike guiltily scurried to get Cinnamon Roll’s things on board. Cinnamon Roll turned to her little brother Applespike, who stood nearby. The dragon-pony had not said two words to her all morning.
“Bye, little bubba,” she said, hugging him tight. “I’m gonna miss you.”
Applespike returned the hug, rubbing his wet face into her shoulder.
“Can’t let Zany see me cryin’,” he sniffed. “I’ll miss you, too, Sissy!”
The train whistle blew and Cinnamon Roll, Applejack, and Spike quickly climbed aboard. The crowd waved as they pulled from the station. Cherry Pie bounced after the train, waving her arms crazily.
“WE'LL MISS YOU! WRITE SOON! PLEASE, DON'T FORGET...Ooooh! Look, a balloon!”
“Well, this is it.”
Spike led Cinnamon Roll and Applejack under the ivy-covered arch marked with a golden cooking pot. The archway led into a small picturesque courtyard with flowering shrubs and hanging vines of ivy. The school building looked more like a historical mansion than a college. The brown stone structure had five stories, each with a balcony and a set of Prench doors. Wide stone stairs led up to a beautiful mahogany door with an ornate stained-glass window in its center.
“Whoa!” whispered Applejack in awe. “This sure is… fancy.” She turned to Cinnamon Roll doubtfully. “You…you sure you wanna do this, Sugarcube?”
Cinnamon did not reply. As she stared up at the imposing building, a knot formed in her stomach. For the first time, she truly realized that she was leaving home. Despite being an adult, she had never really been on her own before and she was afraid. Then she felt her Pa's dragon claw on her shoulder.
"Hey, it'll be okay," he said comfortingly. "Fancy school or not, I know you can handle it!"
“Yes,” Cinnamon Roll blushed at the praise. She gazed around at the beautiful campus, grinning with renewed excitement. This was her adventure! “I really do!”
The rain had slacked off by the time Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll arrived at the Canterlot Culinary College campus. The rain-soaked ivy that covered the arched entrance shimmered like diamonds in the pale light of the street lamps. The griffon gallantly covered the mare with his wing as they darted under the dripping vines. Cinnamon rolled her eyes. She was a hard working farm pony, thank you very much! She wasn't going to melt like brown sugar! Still, she did appreciate the gesture.
“Good night, Cherie,” said Gulliand, giving her a nuzzle.
“Good night, Sweetheart,” she murmured. "You still want to meet at the bakery tomorrow?"
The griffon nodded. "I'm not looking forward to it either but it would be best if we told him as soon as possible."
"I know," Cinnamon sighed. She reached up and kissed the end of his dangerous beak. "Good night."
"You are stalling my little sweet bun," Gulliand teased as he returned the kiss. "Good night."
Cinnamon stepped back as he launched himself into the air and disappeared into the darkening sky. She sighed deeply, wishing Gulliand had not moved off campus last year. She missed their late night get-togethers in the dormitory kitchen, sharing their thoughts over cups of hot cocoa and cookies.
“Well, hello there, Cinnamon Roll!” a beige-colored unicorn colt wearing big, round, black-framed glasses greeted her loudly as she stepped into the foyer. He was seated behind a small wooden desk next to the door. Behind him was a series of pigeonholes with students’ names printed over the top of each one.
“Hey, Trotter,” said Cinnamon Roll, grinning. “How are you doing this evening?”
“Oh, fit as a flea and twice as jumpy,” he replied with a cheeky wink. “And how about you?” he added, leaning over the desk to leer at her meaningfully. “How did your date go?”
Cinnamon gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, it was nice, I guess."
“Nice?” Trotter’s face fell. His eyes opened wide in dismay. “Nice? J-j-just nice?”
Cinnamon nodded. The unicorn bit his lip, looking considerably paler by the second. She let him stew a moment longer before deciding to let him off the hook.
“You talked to Gulliand, didn’t you?” she asked with a smirk. “You knew what he was going to do.”
Trotter blushed crimson. “Well, yeah! When he came by yesterday, he asked if I thought you’d be willing to marry him. And I told him ‘Does a manticore sit in the woods? Yes, she’ll marry you in a heartbeat!’” A worried look crossed his face. “You did say ‘yes’, didn’t you?” he asked plaintively.
“Yes, I did!” she snorted, lifting her hoof to show off the new addition to her Promise Bracelet. “So, you don’t have to worry about a ticked off griffon any time soon.”
“Ooooo!” cooed the unicorn as he pushed up his glasses to look at the beautiful diamond hanging from her bracelet. “That is one gorgeous rock! I'll bet he went to Mare-ods!"
"Thank you," replied Cinnamon Roll, drawing her hoof back. She glanced at the pigeonholes behind the desk. “Any mail for me?”
“Does Starswirl have a beard?” Trotter snorted. He retrieved a white envelope and a small box wrapped in brown paper. “You get more mail than any student here!” He grinned hopefully as he held the box to his ear and gave it a gentle shake. “Sounds like cookies!”
Cinnamon Roll snatched the box from his aura. “Thank you.”
“Another care package from home, Cinnamon Roll?” asked a cool voice behind her.
Cinnamon turned towards the speaker. She was a soft pink unicorn with a long creamy mane that shined like pearls. She was slightly taller than Cinnamon with an elegant, delicate figure that marked her as a member of the Canterlot elite. She looked down her muzzle at the little brown Earth filly and grinned derisively.
“What’s the matter? Has your precious scholarship money run out and you can’t afford the meals here? I mean, the food is high priced, but that’s no problem... for those who can afford it.”
Cinnamon’s face burned with anger, but she managed to keep her voice calm.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m doin’ just fine. My Ma just likes sending me sweet things to remind me of home.” She tore the wrapping from the box and opened the lid. The warm, rich smell of Applejack’s apple-raisin oatmeal cookies filled the air. “Hmmmm! Nothing like lovin’ from the oven! Care for one?” she asked, nodding towards the box.
The dainty unicorn wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t dream of eating peasant food,” she said disdainfully.
Cinnamon shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
The aristocratic pony turned her impervious gaze onto Trotter. “Do I have any mail today?”
“Perhaps,” the beige colt replied in a cool, businesslike voice. “May I have your name, please?”
The pink unicorn’s face turned a darker shade of fuchsia. “You know who I am, you little working class worm!” she snarled. “Stop pretending that you don’t know!”
“Sorry, but it is a rule that I have to ask,” replied Trotter calmly. “So, may I have your name?”
The pink unicorn ground her perfect teeth. “Pearlescent Glow!” she spat.
“Glow, Pearlescent…” The beige unicorn turned to the mail boxes behind him and made a big show of searching for her name. He went down the line slowly, reading each name aloud. At one point, he paused to push up his glasses and squint to read the name plates. Cinnamon stuffed a cookie in her mouth to keep from laughing.
“Ah, here we are,” said Trotter finally returning with a few envelopes in his aura.
“About bloody time!” Pearlescent huffed, snatching her mail. She rudely brushed past Cinnamon and trotted upstairs to the dormitories. Once she was out of earshot, Cinnamon Roll was able to release the laughter she had been holding back. Trotter grinned.
“That never gets old,” he said.
“You are so bad!” Cinnamon Roll gasped between guffaws. She held out her box of cookies. “Want some?”
“I thought you would never ask!”
The eager unicorn immediately levitated three cookies. He brought one to his mouth and took a bite, moaning in bliss, his eyes rolling up into his head as he chewed. Cinnamon thought for a moment he might actually flip on his back and float away like a balloon.
“Great Celestia,” he gasped. “Your folks are amazing bakers!” He reached over the counter and tenderly took her hoof in his. “Forget Gulliand and marry me, Cinnamon Roll! I simply must be a part of this incredible Apple clan!”
Cinnamon chuckled. They had been through this before. “I thought you were into stallions,” she whispered.
“I am,” said Trotter, shrugging. “But for food of such quality, I would gladly make an exception. Unless…you happen to have some stallion cousins who can cook, too?” he added hopefully.
“All the Apple males can cook,” said Cinnamon Roll proudly, drawing her hoof from his grip. “I’m just not sure if you’re their type.”
The beige unicorn sighed. “I can always dream, can’t I?”
Cinnamon chuckled. “Good night, Trotter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, my dear! And thanks for the cookies!”
Cinnamon trotted up the staircase to the girl’s dormitory on the second floor. The college building had once been a mansion with many large rooms. Some of these had been converted into classrooms. The ones on the first and second floor had been divided into dorm rooms. Hers was the fourth on the right.
The room was small but not cramped. It contained one bed, one desk, one chest of drawers, and one small closet nook covered by a curtain. A light green fuzzy rug lay on the hardwood floor next to her bed. The bed was covered with a bright red and green apple patterned quilt with two plump goose down pillows at the head. Cream-colored curtains hung in the window next to the bed.
Cinnamon Roll gently laid the box on her desk then turned her attention to the white envelope. She smiled as she recognized her Ma’s neat mouth writing. Carefully, she slit it open and pulled out the letter. It was only one page long; a little surprising for Applejack who felt it was her duty to keep Cinnamon Roll informed on every little thing going on in Ponyville.
“Must be a slow week,” she chuckled and began to read.
“Dear Cinnamon Roll,
I can’t believe it! The big day is almost here! The day my baby girl graduates from college! We’re all so proud of you! Your Pa’s been strutting like a rooster, bragging about how he always knew you had it in you. I swear, if he keeps it up I’m gonna put him in the henhouse!
I just keep thinking about that day we got you and your brother from the orphanage. We were so worried ya’ll wouldn’t like us because your Pa and I were so different. You don’t know how happy I was when I saw you weren’t scared. You just crawled up in my lap, like you always belonged there.
To celebrate your graduation, we’re hosting a dinner party at Sweet Apple Acres next week. The whole gang is invited! I even managed to get the Cutie Mark Crusaders to come. Your Aunt Apple Bloom is dying to see you!
Well, I love you darling. Pa, Granny, Applespike, Cinnamon Stick, and Dinky send their love, too. We’ll see you next week.
Love,
Your Ma, Applejack.
PS: You can bring your friend Gulliand if you like. We’d be glad to have him.
Cinnamon Roll grinned as she carefully folded the letter and put it in a drawer with her other keepsakes. Well, that was convenient! A party with all her family and friends would be the perfect time for her and Gulliand to make their little announcement. She squealed in delight. She couldn’t hardly wait to see everypony’s face when they broke the news!
Happily, she snuggled down in her bed and turned off the light. It was raining again. She could hear the drops striking the window sill…just like they would outside her bedroom window at Sweet Apple Acres. The sound was comforting…very unlike it had been on her first night away from home...
“Oh, my! You look like you're lost, little filly!” said a sky-blue unicorn filly, sidling up beside Cinnamon. “But don't worry. I can help you.”
Cinnamon Roll, who had just said goodbye to her parents, frowned as the unicorn turned her so she was facing the exit. "Now, just go through those doors. Turn left, and walk until you reach Wheelwright Street."
Cinnamon looked at the unicorn suspiciously. "Uh...Why would I do that?"
"Because that's where the Canterlot Trade School is, silly!"
A group of unicorn mares, each boasting a different pastel colored coat, tittered at the joke. Cinnamon frowned.
“I ain’t in the wrong place,” she replied coolly. “I got a four-year scholarship to this here college…”
“Oh, listen to her!" giggled a unicorn with buttercup colored fur. She mimicked Cinnamon's accent. " ‘Ah ain’t in th' wrong place. Ah gotta four-year scholarship ter this here school!'"
“Oh, please, Darlings, don’t tease her,” said a light pink unicorn with a pearly mane. “She is one of Princess Celestia’s charity cases, after all.”
Cinnamon Roll rounded on the unicorn furiously. “It ain’t…I mean... it’s NOT charity! I EARNED that scholarship.”
“Of course, you did, Dear,” replied the pink filly condescendingly. “It’s all part of the Princess’s Diversity Initiative.”
“To assist Earth ponies and Pegasi in having a chance at positions traditionally dominated by Unicorns,” said a lavender filly, as if she was quoting a news article. “A Culture of Inclusiveness, I believe is the catchphrase.”
“Silly if you ask me,” snorted the sky-blue filly. “If Earth ponies and Pegasi were actually capable of being chefs, I wouldn't mind. But, I'm afraid short order cooks and bakers is as high as they can reach."
Cinnamon growled into her pillow as those words went through her head. She ought to have bucked that sky-blue hussy in the teeth for saying that! Earth ponies were not mere cooks and bakers! The Cakes produced delicious original masterpieces all the time. So did Pinkie Pie! And Miss Bon-Bon...well, she was more of a candy maker... but she wasn't afraid to experiment AND her confections were the best!
"Humph!" huffed Cinnamon as she flopped on her dorm bed. "Ouch!" The mattress was not as comfortable as the one at Sweet Apple Acres. In fact, nothing about the room was comforting. There was no moonlight streaming through the window. There was no sound of creaking floorboards and bumping shutters. The only light was the yellow glow from under the door. The only sounds were the occasional clopping of hooves on their way to the bathroom.
"Humph!" she huffed again as she threw off the covers and turned on her bedside lamp. Next to the bed was a large box Applejack had left her. She pulled up the lid and smiled at all her Ma had packed inside: a small bag of apples, a half-dozen biscuits with a tub of apple butter, a caramel apple pie, a tin of sugar cookies, and a jar of peanut butter. She picked up the pie. Mmmmm! Yes! A nice slice of hot, syrupy apple pie was exactly what she needed right then.
According to the school map, there was a communal kitchen on the first floor, near the boy's dormitory. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs. Everything was quiet and the lights were dimmed. She looked around until she saw a swinging door on her left. The words "Dormitory Kitchen" where printed in black beside it.
All right, she thought as she eagerly pushed open the door. Shouldn't take long to warm this up. Humph! Wish Ma had left some cider to go with it--OH!
Cinnamon started. She wasn't expecting anyone else to be up this late, but the lights in the kitchen were on and somepony was busy stirring something on the stove.
"Excuse me," she said, blinking in the sudden brightness. "I need to use the oven and..."
Her next words dried up in her mouth as the other "pony" came into focus. Standing in the kitchen was a creature she had never seen before and yet (mainly due to the stories told by her Aunt Rainbow Dash) she recognized immediately. Its head was like that of a great eagle. Snow-white feathers covered its head, neck and chest and its front legs ended in a pair of sharp-looking talons. The body and back legs were like those of a lion with tawny brown fur and a long tawny tail with a fuzzy tuft on the end. An enormous pair of wings lay folded against its sides.
It was a Griffon!
Cinnamon froze, her heart pounding in her chest as the Griffon cocked his head and stared at her with piercing golden eyes. She recalled Aunt Rainbow Dash telling about how bad-tempered Griffons were and hoped this one would not be too angry.
"I...I am so...sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just..."
“Oh, no! It’s no problem,” the griffon replied kindly. He had a low voice with just a hint of a Prench accent. “I was just fixing myself some warm milk. I couldn’t sleep.”
Cinnamon sighed in relief. “Yeah. I couldn’t either.” Slowly, she walked up to the oven. The Griffon stepped to one side and watched as she slid the pie inside and shut the door.
“That looks delicious," the Griffon murmured appreciatively. "What kind of pie is that?"
“Just a caramel apple pie my Ma left me,” replied Cinnamon. “It’s good cold, but I just felt like having something hot.”
The Griffon nodded knowingly. “Hot food can be very comforting.”
Cinnamon smiled shyly. “I guess you could say that.” She held out her hoof. “My name is Cinnamon Roll. I’m from Ponyville.”
The griffon took her proffered hoof in one of his large talons. “I am glad to meet you Cinnamon Roll. My name is Gulliand, from Griffonstone.”
Cinnamon watched as he lowered his head and lightly tapped his beak against her hoof. She blushed at the charming gesture.
“Would you care for some warm milk?” he asked. “I flavored it with a little nutmeg and cinnamon.”
“Oh...Um...I…” she started but Gulliand was already pouring her a steaming mug full. She looked at it uncertainly. She had never had spiced warm milk before.
“Something wrong?” asked Gulliand, cocking his head questioningly.
“Oh, no!" said Cinnamon quickly. "I'm just not used to...well...hot milk. Unless it's hot chocolate."
The Griffon shook his head. “It’s not good to drink or eat chocolate before bedtime. The caffeine in it would keep you awake.”
“Yeah, I know," she shrugged. "My family and I usually just drink it on cold winter days. The rest of the time, I drink apple cider." She gave her mug an experimental sniff. "So, why are you having trouble getting to sleep?”
Gulliand grimaced. “It's that room they assigned me. It's so small and there's so little natural light. It’s like being trapped in a cave! I thought a little warm milk would help me relax." He sipped his mug and licked his beak thoughtfully. "Ah! Perfect! What about you?” he added, looking at her over his mug. "Why are you up?"
Cinnamon looked down at her mug and shrugged. “Homesick, mostly. This is the first time I’ve ever been away from any of my folks. I mean, I used to spend a few weeks each summer visiting my Uncle Braeburn and his family in Appleoosa...but this just ain't the same."
"I understand," the Griffon nodded. "It was hard for me when I first left home to study in Maris."
"You've been to Maris?" cried Cinnamon, her eyes lighting up with delight. She had never met anyone who had been to Maris! Not even Aunt Rarity had been to Maris! "What was it like there? What did you study?"
Gulliand grinned. "It was very nice. The whole city is lit up at night, so it looks like the night sky on the ground. And the food!" He gestured with his talon as if he was blowing a kiss. "Magnifique! There are cafes everywhere! They had the best sauces, breads, and cheeses. That is why I went there to study to be a chef."
"Wow!" Cinnamon breathed. Prance's culinary schools were ranked among the best! "That's amazing! But, how did you end up here in Canterlot?"
A moody look crossed the Griffon's face. "My uncle," he said bitterly. "He lives here in Canterlot. He offered to pay for my tuition here if I would work for him in his bakery. My parents saw it as a great opportunity to save some bits, so they transferred me here."
"Oh," said Cinnamon quietly, realizing she may have touched a nerve. She sipped a little milk from her mug as she thought about what to say to that. "I...I...guess you're lucky. I don't have any rich relatives to help me. I'm here on scholarship."
Gulliand blushed, or at least the feathers on his cheeks turned light pink. "Yes. I suppose I am lucky," he conceded. "And I do like this school. Except for the dorm room..." he shuddered. "I should be grateful. It's just that..."
"What?"
The Griffon sighed rubbing his temples with his talon. "My uncle wants me to be a pastry chef like him and...well...I...don't want to!" He sighed again as if relieved to get that off his chest. "I like baking, in fact I'm quite good at it. But I prefer cooking other things like stews, soups, and sauces. I can make one mean gumbo!"
Cinnamon giggled. "Maybe I could get you a copy of my Pa's Apple Soup recipe. It's really good."
"Apple Soup?" Gulliand laughed incredulously. "Apple pie. Apple cider. Apple soup. You must really LOVE Apples."
Cinnamon Roll smirked. "You have noooooooo idea!"
Further comments were interrupted by the sweet syrupy smell of the warmed over pie wafting from the oven. Cinnamon Roll carefully took it out and laid it on the counter to cool a bit. She noticed the Griffon leaning forward, his eyes closed in bliss as he breathed in the sweet aroma.
"Care for some?" she asked, chuckling.
"Madame," he replied with a grateful smile. "It would be an honor!"
Over the next hour, the two sat in the kitchen talking like old friends between bites of pie and sips of warm spiced milk. Gulliand told of his life in Griffonstone while Cinnamon related her life growing up at Sweet Apple Acres. The Griffon was especially intrigued with the love story of Applejack and Spike. It was almost midnight when the last of the pie was eaten. Cinnamon carefully washed the pie plate while Gulliand cleaned the pot and mugs. As they worked, Cinnamon told him what the unicorn mares had said to her.
"You've been to Maris. Do you think an Earth pony stands a chance of being a chef?"
"Oh, yes. Definitely!" he said, gazing seriously into her face. "Don't let those merde mares get to you. You are not here because of charity. You are here because you have talent! In fact..." he added with a smirk. "No one thought a Griffon could become a chef and YET my uncle is now one of the best pastry chefs in all Equestria!"
Gustave LeGrand, the famous griffon pastry chef, sighed in relief as he lifted the empty éclair shell. This one was the last of the batch he had made for Prince Blue Blood’s birthday banquet. It had been hard, exacting work. The prince always demanded perfection, and when it came to perfection, Gustave trusted no one but himself!
He picked up the pastry bag full of sweet, lemony cream, carefully inserted the nozzle into the éclair, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
KNOCK, KNOCK!
“Sacre!” The startled Griffon dug his talons into the bag... hard. POP! The éclair exploded with a hissing puff. Gustave flinched as a large blob of the lemony confection struck him between the eyes.
“GAH!” Growling, he fumbled around for a clean cloth to wipe his face.
KNOCK, KNOCK!
“Comme dans! Idiot!” he shouted crossly.
The kitchen door slowly creaked open, revealing an Earth pony mare with a cinnamon brown coat and cream-colored mane. Her eyes widened at the sight of the angry griffon.
“M-M-Maestro?” she asked hesitantly.
Gustave looked surprised. “Cinnamon Roll?”
“Oui, Maestro,” Cinnamon replied with a shy smile. She slowly stepped inside followed closely by an equally hesitant Gulliand. The older griffon’s eyes narrowed.
“And my nephew,” he muttered sourly.
“Oui,” replied Gulliand gulping. He and Cinnamon gazed guiltily at the remains of the ruined éclair. “We are sorry to disturb you, Uncle Gustave, but we needed to speak to you right away.”
“Heh!” Gustave snorted. “You both know that I should never be disturbed while I am working! Especially on a project of such tres importance!” He wiped his talons on the cloth. “You are lucky it was only one éclair. Zee prince would be most furious if his order was ruined.”
Cinnamon Roll picked up another clean cloth and carefully wiped away a dollop of cream that hung from the end of the griffon’s long mustache. “It’s okay, Maestro,” she said soothingly. “Like you said, it was just one éclair. That should be no problem for a top baker like you.”
Gustave’s feathery chest swelled at the praise. “You are right, my prized pupil. It is no trouble at all for one such as I!”
He seized another éclair shell from a nearby tray and carefully poked the tip of the pastry bag into the fill hole. With a smooth, practiced ease, he filled the éclair perfectly and set it triumphantly on the tray with the others. Cinnamon Roll cheered and clapped her hooves.
“I knew you could do it!”
Gustave blushed at the praise. Gulliand had to turn away to keep from laughing at the way Cinnamon Roll played on the grumpy griffon's vanity. No doubt, the little mare had his uncle wrapped around her hoof.
“Now, zat is finished,” said the Griffon chef, placing a parchment over the finished eclairs. “What is it zat you wished to see me about?”
“Well…” said Gulliand, nervously as his uncle turned his sharp eyes on them. He glanced at his pony fiancé who was blushing brightly next to him. “Cinnamon and I wanted you to be the first to know that…we are engaged.”
Gustave gasped, his eyes darting to the silver bracelet on the Earth pony’s leg and the lovely diamond that hung from it. He looked questioningly at Cinnamon Roll, who was blushing, looking at the floor.
“Is this true, mon petit cheval?” he asked.
Cinnamon Roll nodded. “Oui, Maestro.”
Gustave closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I knew zees was coming. When he first gave you zat bracelet, I knew he would one day ask for your hoof in marriage.” He narrowed his eyes at Gulliand. “And has my nephew told you what he plans to do? Where he plans to go, EH?”
“Yes, Maestro.”
“And you are willing to follow him? Follow my… idiot nephew to Griffonstone to open a…” His beak wrinkled in distaste. “a…restaurant?”
“Yes, Maestro,” replied Cinnamon earnestly.
Gustave sighed again. “I was afraid you would say zat,” he murmured sadly. Cinnamon was surprised when he clasped her little hoof in both talons before continuing. “In all zee years I have taught at zee college, never have I had such a student as you! So smart! So talented! I had hoped you would stay in Canterlot and work with me in my bakery. I tell you truly, zere is no one I would trust more with my business zan you.”
Gently, he lifted her hoof to his beak and gave it an affectionate peck. “You are a tres merveilleux mare. If you wish to marry Gulliand, I will give you my support.”
Tears shone in Cinnamon’s eyes. “Thank you, Maestro,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Gulliand murmured.
“De rien,” said Gustave, cutting his eyes at his nephew. “Now, if you will pardon me, I must make myself presentable so I can deliver zees eclairs to zee Prince.” He indicated the sticky filling that still clung to his feathers. “It may take longer than I expected.”
“Of course, Maestro,” said Cinnamon, kissing the griffon fondly on each cheek. She turned to her fiancé. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”
Gulliand caught a look from his uncle. “Go ahead, Cherie! I’ll be there in a moment,” he said. Cinnamon Roll walked outside. The moment the door closed behind her, Gustave turned to his nephew.
"Her family, do they know about zees?" he asked.
“Not yet," replied Gulliand. "They’re having a dinner party this weekend. We thought we would break the news then.”
Gustave nodded approvingly. “Tres bien. And…um…you have met her parents before, no?”
“Yes. I met them at last year’s Gala.”
Gustave glanced at the door before leaning in close to whisper. “And her Papa…is he truly a dragon?”
Gulliand nodded. “Not a big one, but yes. He is a dragon.”
"Oooh, LA!" the Griffon chef shuddered. "You are braver zan me!" He narrowed his eyes at the young griffon. "And your parents..." he added. "Have you told them yet?"
Gulliand looked uncomfortable. “Not yet. I…I just asked her last night and…”
“Idiot!" snapped Gustave, snatching off his chef's hat to swat his errant nephew. "You have been with her for almost three years! You gave her zat bracelet last year! And yet you have said nothing to zem?”
"I'm going to tell them, I promise!" cried Gulliand, trying to avoid the blows.
"When?" the older griffon raged. "On your wedding day or when you introduce them to their grandchildren?"
"UGH! I'll tell them! I'll write them tomorrow and I'll introduce her when they come for my graduation! Just stop hitting me!"
"GOOD!" Gustave ceased his assault and crammed his battered torque onto his head where it flopped over like a stocking cap. “You know how our family is. Always, always up to something to put more bits in zee bank. I wouldn't be surprised if they have already chosen a wealthy bride for you."
Gulliand gulped at the thought. "Y-y-you think so?"
The griffon chef shrugged. "I wouldn't put it beyond zem. It was zere idea that you become a pastry chef in Equestria so you could make beaucoup bits like moi! They were most furious when you decided to become a regular chef."
Gulliand cringed, remembering the heated letter he had received from his parents. Only the fact that his uncle was footing the bill for his education kept them from pulling him out.
"I-I will tell them, Uncle. I will definitely let them know."
"Tres bien," Gustave replied. "Because, believe me, nephew, if you break zat petit mare’s heart, a dragon will be zee least of your worries!”
“Yo! Congrats, you two!”
Cinnamon and Gulliand stood side by side, grinning as the little mare showed off her diamond. “Thank you, Professor Joe.”
“Hey! We’re not in the classroom, kids! Just call me Donut Joe!" said the beige-colored unicorn happily. "I’m honored you two decided to tell me about your engagement in person.”
“You’ve been such a friend to both of us, we couldn’t leave you out of the loop,” said Gulliand. “I will not forget how you helped me talk to my uncle about not being a pastry chef.”
The unicorn shook his head sadly. "Old Gussy took it real hard. Gotta admit, I was kinda disappointed, too. You're one talented baker! But, hey! If you don't wanna do somethin' then you shouldn't have to!"
“Thank you, Joe." said Gulliand gratefully.
The baker pony nodded. "You're welcome. And now!" He looked at the two of them, his face beaming in eagerness. "It's time to celebrate! What are ya in the mood for? Whatever you want, it's on the house!”
“Oh!" exclaimed Cinnamon, glancing furtively at her fiance'. Neither of them wished to impose on the unicorn's hospitality. "Uh, maybe...just a donut apiece and some milk?" she suggested shyly.
“Just a donut…!” Donut Joe's eyes widened in horror at the humble request. “Oh, no! No, no, no! Somethin' this special deserves better than plain milk and donuts! Sit down in the booth over there and I’ll get you two somethin’ worth talkin' about!”
Shyly, the two allowed the eager unicorn to usher them into the proffered booth before he disappeared into the kitchen.
“I hope he doesn’t go through too much trouble,” Cinnamon murmured anxiously.
Gulliand smiled and patted her hoof reassuringly. "If it makes him happy to do something special for us, we should just accept it. Joe has been a wonderful teacher and a great friend." The griffon sighed wistfully. "I will miss him. Along with Professor Saffron Marsala and her father Coriander Cumin."
Cinnamon nodded, almost tearing up as she thought of the many friends she had made at the school. Despite what the pastel unicorns had told her on her first day, the school had been warm and welcoming. Most of the students had been unicorns but there had also been plenty of Earth and Pegasi mixed in. The professors, most of whom were actual chefs with their own restaurants and bakeries, had been delighted to pass on their knowledge to the students. Granted, some of them had been strict and exacting. One chef named Gourmet Relish often used words that made Cinnamon want to wash his mouth out with soap. Yet, he was honest and when he gave praise, everypony knew he meant it.
However, as Granny would say, there had been some flies in the buttermilk.
“I won’t miss Zesty Gourmand," Cinnamon muttered bitterly, referring to the famous Canterlot food critic. She had taught a class on "Restaurant Aesthetics and Presentation" at the college. None of the students had liked her. The skeletal unicorn tended to put more emphasis on appearances than taste, referring to food as "Art".
Gulliand's beak skewed at the mention of Zesty Gourmand. "I won't miss her either," he snorted in disgust. "She turned up her nose at my ratatouille saying it was 'hideous and pedestrian'!"
"I remember!" Cinnamon giggled. "And then you said 'Well, I didn't mean to make it look like you!'"
"I honestly didn't expect the other students to applaud so loudly," the griffon blushed as he laughed. "I thought for sure she would have me expelled."
"Lucky for you the other professors stuck up for you," said Cinnamon, patting his claw with a hoof. "Professor Gourmet told me he'd have given a million bits to have been there!"
“Oh, yeah! Here we go!”
Donut Joe trotted eagerly to their table carrying a tray in his aura. “Ya wanted milk?" he said, proudly setting down two large foaming mugs. "Try these Mocha lattes on for size!”
Cinnamon and Gulliand sipped from their respective mugs. The mare’s eyes widened in delight.
“This…this is delicious!”
“Creamy...with a beautiful balance of flavor," added Gulliand, clearly savoring the taste. "Absolute perfection! Thank you for sharing this!”
Donut Joe beamed at the praise. “That ain’t all. Wait till ya feast your eyes on what's comin' next!”
The couple eagerly returned to their drinks as the unicorn trotted back to the kitchen.
"This mocha really is good," sighed Cinnamon. A guilty look crossed her face. "It's...it's even better than Sugar Cube Corner's Hot Chocolate. And THAT's sayin' somethin'."
Gulliand chuckled. "You are always comparing something to the food at Sugar Cube Corner, Cherie. Perhaps you can take me there before we have dinner with your family this weekend."
"Oh, I'd love to!" Cinnamon beamed. "And while we're there we can ask the Cakes to design the cake for our wedding!"
“So, it’s true. You’re getting married.”
The couple turned to look as a familiar pink unicorn with a pearly white mane approached their table. Flanking her was the smart-mouthed sky-blue filly who had teased Cinnamon on her first day and the buttercup-colored unicorn who had imitated her Southern accent. Pearlescent Glow looked down her aristocratic nose at the Earth pony and griffon, making a face like she had smelled something bad. Gulliand and Cinnamon silently glared back, neither one wanting to sully their special news by confirming it with the mean filly.
"A little birdie told me you had gotten engaged," she said, tossing her pearly mane.
"That was me!" the buttercup filly giggled. "I saw the diamond this morning in class and I knew what that meant."
"Of course, I'm not surprised,"the pink unicorn said, smirking at the Earth filly. "It appears that cross-breeding runs in your family."
Cinnamon Roll ground her teeth in fury, unable to think any kind of come-back. Luckily, Gulliand rose to the occasion.
"And what of it?" he asked coldly. "If her mother chose to marry a dragon and Cinnamon has chosen to marry a griffon, that is none of your affair."
"Oh, of course it's not," Pearlescent Glow responded in a condescending tone. "It's none of my business who she mates with. It's just..." She aimed a faux-sympathetic look at Cinnamon. "I just can't help wondering about the poor children."
Cinnamon's eyes opened in shock. "W-what!"
"Well," said the blue unicorn. "You do have that little brother who's a dragon-pony. Stands to reason any children you have with a griffon would be half pony, too."
"Hmmm, I wonder what you would call a pony that's part griffon," said the yellow unicorn, tapping her chin. She sounded more curious than teasing. "Would that be a griffon-pony? A pony-griffon?"
"Or maybe a Pony-bird!" quipped the blue filly, earning a giggle from the others.
"Actually, I believe the term you are looking for is Hippogriff," said a new female voice.
The unicorns ceased giggling as everyone turned to face the speaker. Standing only a few feet away was a pretty, purple alicorn filly with a flowing pink and blue mane. Though not quite as tall as Pearlescent, she gave off an aura of regal authority that none of the three pastel unicorns had. Cinnamon's eyes lit up in recognition.
"Twinkle Sparkle!"
The little alicorn winked at the Earth filly before turning her attention back to the three bullies.
"Back before the war between Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom, there were many ponies who married and had children with griffons," she explained as if she were a teacher instructing some very slow pupils. "Those children were called Hippogriffs."
The yellow unicorn tilted her head in confusion. "How can they be called Hippogriffs? It's griffons and ponies, not griffons and hippopotamus."
Pearlescent and the blue filly both face-hoofed. Twinkle gave the yellow filly a bemused stare, before reaching up to gently pat her on the head.
"Oh, you poor thing. And your family just lets you out in public like this."
Cinnamon and Gulliand couldn't help snickering. Pearlescent Glow tried to save face by pulling herself up to her full height so she could look down her nose at Twinkle. The little alicorn just gazed back, looking highly amused.
"I do not believe anypony asked for your opinion," Pearlescent began, coolly.
"Oh, that wasn't an opinion, that was a fact," replied Twinkle smiling. "Griffon-pony children really are called Hippogriffs."
Pearlescent huffed. "That is besides the point! This was a private conversation and--"
"Actually, it sounded like you and your friends were bullying them," Twinkle interrupted. She was still smiling, but there was a hardness in her eyes. "And I know for a fact that all the schools in Canterlot have an anti-bullying policy. Or should I ask your Dean about that...."
Pearlescent's friends backed away, looking worried. The pink unicorn just sneered.
“What are you worried about?" she asked the others. "She isn’t a real princess. She’s just the daughter of some nerdy pony who was turned into an alicorn and rules from some backwoods Earth pony dump.”
Twinkle's eyes narrowed dangerously at the insult. "Oh, reeeeeeeally?" she asked, her horn glowing purple.
“Yes! Really!"
SPLAT!
Pearlescent Glow screeched as a large cherry pie suddenly appeared in the air above her head and smacked into her face. Cinnamon and Gulliand fell out laughing and the pastel ponies stood wide-eyed as the pink unicorn frantically pawed red pie filling from her eyes.
“You little pig!” she screeched, slinging some of the cherry filling at Twinkle. “You disgusting, low-life, little slut!”
Suddenly a voice began to croon:
“When the moon hits your eye
Like a big cherry pie
That’s amore!”
Standing in a spotlight holding a microphone was gray colt with a rough pink mane. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and a neat bow tie. He flashed a smile that showed off one sharp looking fang before continuing to sing.
"When your throat feels like silk
Cause you drank chocolate milk
That's amore!"
"ZANY?" Cinnamon Roll gasped in surprise.
“Live and in person,” the draconequess colt took a bow as the sound of canned applause filled the diner. The yellow unicorn gaped at him, her mouth hung open in shock.
"H-how is he doing magic without a horn?" she squeaked.
"Oh, the same way I manage to defy gravity!" he answered, floating up towards the ceiling. He turned upside down and began to walk across one of the beams. "And make things appear..." POOF! A violin appeared next to Cinnamon and Gulliand, playing a sweet romantic tune. "And make things disappear..." POOF! All traces of the pie vanished from Pearlescent's face. "And just make stuff come alive!" POOF! The coffee mugs began to slowly waltz with the music.
"It's called Chaotic Magic," Zany added, with heavy emphasis on the word "chaotic". He stepped closer to the fillies, grinning a diabolical grin that showed off his fang. "It's a little something I inherited from my Dad."
The sky-blue unicorn was the first catch on. "Y-y-you're Discord's son!"
"Ah! Such a smart pony!" cried Zany, making a mortarboard and tassel appear on the unicorn's head. "Too bad that doesn't make you wise. Now..." The pastel ponies stepped back nervously as he glared at them with his red swirling eyes. “Which one of you was it who referred to my marefriend as a pig and a...slut?”
The blue and yellow unicorns quickly stepped back leaving Pearlescent exposed. The unicorn mare nervously licked her lips as Zany stepped closer.
"I believe you owe my marefriend an apology," he said quietly. "Then, you need to apologize to this nice couple for interrupting their date. After that, you and your friends can go back to your booth and we can forget this whole little incident. What do you say?"
Pearlescent Glow glanced at her posse who were edging themselves back towards the booth. She looked at Twinkle Sparkle and Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand. Their smug looks were unbearably infuriating. She turned back to Zany.
"Humph!" she grunted, tossing her head defiantly. "I'll apologize when pigs fly!"
Cinnamon could tell by the delighted grin on Zany's face that he was hoping she would say that.
"Your wish is my command!"
POOF!
Pearlescent Glow shrieked as an enormous pink pig with white wings suddenly appeared under her. Zany opened the door to the diner before giving the pig a hearty swat on it's backside. The pig startled then zipped out the door, a screaming Pearlescent riding on his back. The other two unicorns quickly followed after them.
Donut Joe came running from the kitchen, his horn lit up. "What the hay's goin' on in here?" he demanded.
"Sorry, Joe," said Twinkle Sparkle. "Some ponies were picking on our friends and Zany had to show them the door."
Joe glanced at the draconequess colt and grunted. "Good! I don't put up with anypony bullying my customers!" He then turned his attention to Cinnamon and Gulliand, a smile lighting face. "And don't worry, I ain't forgot youse two!" The unicorn hurried back to the kitchen. He returned a minute later levitating a platter in his aura.
"As the Prench say, Bon Appetite!"
All four ponies gasped as he laid down one of the most scrumptious cakes they had ever seen. It was a three-tiered cake consisting of three large cake donuts piled one on top of another and carefully drizzled with Joe's signature glaze. Cinnamon and Gulliand leaned forward and breathed in the delicious aroma.
"Mmmmm! It smells wonderful, Joe!"
Gulliand turned to Twinkle and Zany. "Please, won't you join us? We would be happy to share it with you."
"We would be honored!"
The little alicorn slid in beside Cinnamon, giving the little Earth pony a hug as she did so, while Zany squeezed in next to the larger griffon. Donut Joe returned with extra forks and lattes for everyone. As they bit into the cake, everyone's eyes rolled up in ecstasy.
"Oooooh," Cinnamon moaned. "Istallion Cream...in a donut! How w-w-wonderful!"
"Mmmmmm! Perfection!" Gulliand purred like a cat.
"I-I-I gotta tell Princess Luna about this," gasped Twinkle.
"Oh, dude," groaned Zany who was sporting a pair of round-framed sunglasses and a purple paisley shirt. "That is some awesome cake."
"Thanks," said Joe, proudly puffing out his chest. "It's a little somethin' I've been workin' on for a while. I'm glad you like it but--uh--could ya keep it down a little?" He glanced up as a group of customers came in the door. "Ya startin' to sound obscene."
"Mmmmm," drawled Zany as the unicorn hurried to wait on his new customers. "I don't smoke, but I sure am craving a cigarette."
"What a gorgeous diamond!"
Cinnamon Roll blushed as Twinkle admired the gem. She and Gulliand had officially confirmed their good news with Twinkle and Zany over the cake and lattes. "Thank you, Twinkle."
"Have you told your folks yet?" asked Zany.
"Not yet," said Cinnamon. "Gulliand just asked me last night."
"We were planning on breaking the news at the dinner on Saturday," Gulliand added.
"Oh, yes!" cried Twinkle. "I heard the Cutie Mark Crusaders will be there, too! It'll be the perfect time to tell everyone."
"Yeah!" added Zany. "And we'll be there to back you up!"
Cinnamon Roll gave the draconequess a grateful smile. "Thank you, Zany. To be honest, I am a bit nervous about tellin' 'em. Remember how funny they acted when I introduced them to Gulliand at the Gala?"
"I'm sure they were just surprised," said Twinkle, patting her friend's hoof. "I mean, you didn't tell them you were dating a griffon until the last possible moment."
Cinnamon Roll cringed. "I know. And that was wrong of me." She reached across the table to take Gulliand's claw in her hoof. "I'm not ashamed to be in love with a griffon."
Gulliand dropped his eyes guiltily as he squeezed her hoof. "And I am not ashamed...for loving you," he murmured.
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as the morning train chugged into Ponyville. The dew on the nearby fields shined like silver in the soft morning light. The fluffy clouds overhead glowed like pink pearls in a soft bed of blue.
All of this beauty was lost on Gulliand. The griffon lay sprawled out on one of the train car’s benches, sound asleep, his head cradled in Cinnamon Roll’s lap. The brown Earth pony sat, absently stroking his soft feathery neck. The griffon grinned in his sleep, nestling his head deeper into her lap. Twinkle Sparkle, who was seated directly across from the two, glanced up from her book as a low rhythmic rumble broke the silence.
“Is he… purring?” she asked.
Cinnamon nodded, her body shaking with suppressed laughter. “He swears up and down that he doesn’t do it, but he does! Watch this.”
Cinnamon Roll rubbed his chest in a soft, circular motion. “MMMMMMM!” the purring increased in volume until the fillies could barely hear the rattling of the train over it. Twinkle Sparkle giggled.
“Not much of an Early Bird, is he?” she asked once the purring had dropped back down a few notches
“Nope,” Cinnamon grinned. “It makes his Uncle Gustave mad as a hatter! Bakers always get up before the dawn to do their baking, you know. Hee-hee! He once told me, and I quote, ‘Zee only way zat one will rise in zee morning is if you put zee baking powder in his sheets!’”
Twinkle snorted. “Princess Luna is the same way. Of course, she works at night, so it might not be a fair comparison. She once attended a big breakfast meeting with some of the nobles and ended up face-planting into her pancakes!”
“Gulliand did that once with an egg custard! It was right in the middle of an early morning class. One moment he dishing it out, and the next he was asleep with his head in the pot!” Cinnamon laughed out loud at the memory. “And he was snoring, too! You could hear it echoing inside the pot!”
Gulliand shifted on her lap. “Ugh! Why do you have to tell every creature that story?” he mumbled.
The little filly replied by booping his beak with her hoof. “Because it’s funny, Sweetie.”
Twinkle grinned at the two until she noticed something.
“Hey, Cinnamon, where’s your diamond? It didn’t fall off, did it?”
“No, I took it off and put it in my saddlebag. I wanted our announcement to be a surprise.”
WHOO! WHOO! The train whistle blew loudly. The brakes screeched and the three travelers braced themselves as the car slowed then bumped to a stop at the station. Cinnamon excitedly leaped from her seat, dumping Gulliand onto the floor in the process.
“Ouch!”
“We’re here! We’re here!” squealed Cinnamon Roll. She grabbed Gulliand by the arm and hauled him up with a strength that surprised him. “Come on, Sugarcube! This ain’t no time for laying around! I gotta show Ponyville to you!”
“And show you to Ponyville,” Twinkle chuckled.
The three quickly exited the train car, Cinnamon almost dragging the larger griffon in her excitement. There was a surprisingly large number of ponies at the station that morning, mostly families going up to Canterlot for the day. Cinnamon, however, only had eyes for the three ponies standing away from the crowd. Two of them appeared to be regular adult-sized ponies. The third was colt-sized but there was nothing regular about him. He was light brown with a spiky green mane and a tail like a dragon. The colt’s green eyes lit up with excitement as he caught sight of the brown Earth mare.
“Cinnamon Roll!” he yelled, rearing up on his back legs to wave frantically to her.
“Applespike!” she cried, dropping the griffon’s arm as she galloped over to the group. Cinnamon caught the dragon-pony in a tight hug before turning her attention to the other two ponies. One was a gray unicorn mare with blonde hair and off kilter eyes. The other was a brown Earth stallion with a short, dark brown mane. The stallion grinned.
“Hey, little sis!”
“Cinnamon Stick!” Cinnamon Roll squealed, throwing her arms around her big brother’s neck. “Oh, I haven’t seen you since Hearth’s Warming! And Dinky!” she turned to the gray mare and enveloped her in a hug that took the unicorn’s breath away. “It’s so good to see you, Sugar cube!”
“It’s good to see you, too” replied Dinky in her soft, sweet voice. She cocked her head to peer at Gulliand who was standing behind Cinnamon Roll. “And is this the great griffon chef we’ve heard so much about?”
“I wouldn’t say great,” the griffon replied, giving her a little smile. “Maybe just pretty good.”
Cinnamon Roll chuckled. “Okay, guys, let me introduce you properly. Gulliand, this is my older brother Cinnamon Stick and his wife Dinky. Cinnamon Stick, Dinky…this is Gulliand.”
“Charmed,” said Gulliand, taking Dinky’s hoof and bowing over it. The unicorn blushed at the charming gesture. Cinnamon Stick just frowned.
“He’s nice,” Dinky whispered to Cinnamon Roll.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Cinnamon Stick, stepping forward to offer his hoof. Gulliand took the proffered hoof, frowning slightly at the stallion’s overly tight grip. It did not hurt, but he could feel the strength behind it and a glance at the stallion’s narrowed eyes told him he was meant to. Had this been anypony else, he would have gladly risen to the challenge, watching the stallion’s knees buckle as he tightened his own grip. However, this was Cinnamon Roll’s brother-- his future brother-in-law—so, he just smiled politely and murmured.
“The pleasure is mine.”
“And I believe you’ve already met Applespike,” said Cinnamon Roll, gesturing to the dragon-pony.
“Ah, yes!” Gulliand smiled as he shook the colt’s hoof. “I remember you from the Gala! You said it would be great to have another chef in the family.”
Applespike blushed at the memory. “Yeah, that kinda slipped out. I hope I didn’t embarrass ya’ll too much.”
“Not at all! I was rather flattered you would consider having me as part of your family.”
Applespike beamed. “Hey, anyone who can cook as good as you can is welcome as far as I’m concerned! Aunt Pinkie Pie went on for months about that gumbo you made for her and Aunt Twilight for their trip to Whinnyapolis.”
“She said you were a keeper,” chirped Dinky with a wink. Cinnamon Stick frowned.
Gulliand blushed. “Well, I must meet this Pinkie Pie. I remember her leading the line dance at the Gala, but I was never introduced.”
“She was busy helping the band set up,” explained Cinnamon Roll. “She and the Tri-Pies.”
“Ah! The triplets! I remember you telling me about them. Each of them is named after a kind of pie?”
“Yep! Blueberry, Cherry, and Raspberry.”
“But no Apple,” said Cinnamon Stick, shaking his head. “Granny was real put out about that.”
GRRRRRUUUUAAARRRGHH!
Every creature startled at the roaring sound. Cinnamon Stick and Applespike moved closer to Dinky while Twinkle lit up her horn, ready to fight any predator from the Everfree that might be lurking nearby.
“What the hay was that?” Cinnamon Stick whispered, looking around. Suddenly, Cinnamon Roll let out a loud laugh. Gulliand’s white cheek feathers were glowing bright pink.
“Sorry,” the griffon murmured sheepishly. “I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning. And all this talk of food is making me hungry.”
“Whew! Thank Celestia,” said Applespike, wiping his brow. “I thought for a moment there a hydra had done got us!”
Gulliand gave the dragon-pony a wry smile. “Is there any place open this early where we can get a bite to eat?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Dinky chirped, levitating a basket covered with a cloth. “I brought muffins!”
“Oh, wonderful! Gulliand isn’t the only one who missed breakfast!” Cinnamon Roll and Twinkle helped themselves to some apple-cinnamon muffins while Gulliand chose blueberry. The mares’ eyes closed in delight as they bit into the delicious confection.
“Oh, that is good,” Twinkle gushed, licking a stray crumb from her lips. “And that crunchy strudel on top is fantastic! Wish there was some cold fresh milk to go with it.”
“Ahem,” Applespike grinned smugly as he pulled a bottle of cold milk and some cups from his saddlebag. Laughing happily, the group sat down on some nearby benches and enjoyed their muffins. Gulliand ate his slowly, savoring every bite.
“This is most excellent, Madam Dinky,” he said after a while. “The texture of your muffins is perfect! It’s not hard yet not crumbly. And the flavor is sweet, but not too sweet. And the blueberries! I can taste them so clearly! Are they fresh picked?”
“I wish,” said Dinky, simpering a little at the praise. “Blueberries aren’t in season yet. Cinnamon Stick and I picked these ourselves last season and flash froze them to preserve the flavor.”
Gulliand shook his head, marveling. “Frozen or not, this is better than any I have tasted in Canterlot. Tell me, have you ever tried lemon curd on your muffins?”
Dinky’s eyes went wide. “Well, no. I haven’t heard of anyone doing that before.”
“It is delicious on blueberry scones,” said Gulliand warming to the subject. “The zesty sweetness compliments the flavor of the blueberries. I even use it on blueberry pancakes.”
“It’s really good,” Cinnamon Roll put in.
“Out here we just use good old butter on our muffins,” said Cinnamon Stick. His voice was quiet but with a slight edge to it. “It compliments everything.”
Cinnamon Roll looked sharply at her brother but Gulliand only nodded, “Butter is delicious. I’ve never had any fresh from the farm before. I need to sample some before I leave.” He turned back to Dinky. “I’ll gladly give you the recipe for the lemon curd if you would like to try it.”
“Oh, yes, I would!” cried the unicorn eagerly. “I like to try new things.”
“Unless it’s a cupcake,” Cinnamon Roll teased, giving her sister-in-law a playful nudge.
As the four conferred on the recipe, Twinkle slid closer to Applespike.
“Where is Zany?” she asked. “I thought he was planning on meeting me here.”
“Change of plan,” said the dragon-pony shaking his head. “Uncle Discord found out about Zany’s ‘unchaperoned’ trip to Canterlot this week, so now he’s confined to his room until further notice.”
Twinkle face-hoofed. “Not again!”
“Well, what did you expect?” asked Applespike, shrugging. “You know how Uncle Discord feels about the two of you dating. And it sure don’t help that Zany keeps sneaking off to visit you every week. Don’t worry about it,” he added, patting her sympathetically. “I know he’ll be at the dinner tonight.”
“Yeah,” the little alicorn growled. “With Uncle Discord enforcing that stupid ‘You-Can’t-Come-Within-Twelve-Inches-of-Each-Other’ Rule! Wouldn’t be so bad if Mom didn’t back him up. She actually has her own measuring stick now!”
“Whew, am I glad Fancy Pants isn’t like that about Jewel,” muttered Applespike, referring to Rarity’s youngest daughter. The two of them had been together ever since the dragon-pony, with the help of Zany and Twinkle, had rescued Jewel from a bad situation.
“Anyway, you know Discord is really protective about his kids. And you are your Mom’s only child. They’re just trying to keep ya’ll outta trouble.”
“I suppose,” Twinkle grumbled. “This is what I get for dating the Crown Prince of Chaos.”
Meanwhile, the sun had risen higher in the sky and Ponyville was starting to show signs of life. Street vendors were setting up their carts along the main street. A bell tinkled as a nearby shop opened its doors. The warm smell of baked goods wafted from the ovens at Sugar Cube Corners..
“Oh, we need to get back to the shop!” cried Dinky, jumping up. “I’ve got some orders I need to fill! We’ll see you guys at dinner tonight! It was nice to meet you Gulliand!”
“The pleasure was mine,” replied the griffon with a bow.
“Later, Sis!” said Cinnamon Stick, giving his sister a hug. He gave the griffon cool nod “Gulliand.”
Gulliand copied the gesture. “Cinnamon Stick.”
Cinnamon Roll glared after her brother as he left with Dinky. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” she said to Gulliand. “I don’t know what’s got into him.”
“It’s alright, Cherie. He is just behaving like an older brother.” The griffon placed a comforting wing over her, drawing her close. “At least he didn’t threaten me with a pitchfork!”
Applespike chortled. “Cinnamon must have told you about what happened at Ma and Pa’s wedding.”
Gulliand stared wide-eyed at the dragon-pony. “W-what?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Cinnamon Roll, giving him a quick nuzzle. “Come on. Let me show you Ponyville!”
Though it was still too early for most businesses to be open, quite a few ponies were up preparing their shops and setting out displays. Unlike the city, there was no mad rushing. Everypony went about their tasks with a cheerful calmness. Gulliand, who had never been to a small pony town, looked around in interest. The houses were rustic with the neatly thatched roofs Earth ponies favored. He grinned at the whimsical shapes of some of the commercial buildings. There was a clothing boutique shaped like a giant Carousel and a bake shop shaped like a gingerbread house! Cinnamon stopped in front of a shop with a sign shaped like a wrapped piece of candy where a white mare was busy sweeping the steps.
“Good morning, Bon-Bon!” Cinnamon Roll called. The mare whirled around, her face breaking into a grin.
“Cinnamon Roll!” she cried, dropping the broom to engulf the filly in a hug. “I am so glad to see you! Congratulations on your upcoming graduation!”
“Thank you, Bon-Bon.”
“And Twinkle, it’s so good to see you again! Ooooh! And who is this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Gulliand.
“This is my special some-griffon, Gulliand. We attend college together. Gulliand, this is Bon-Bon, Ponyville’s master candy maker.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Madame Bon-Bon,” he said, taking her hoof with a bow.
“Oh, such good old Equestrian manners!” cried Bon-Bon approvingly. “So genteel and polished! I hear from Pinkie that you make a mean gumbo.”
Gulliand rolled his eyes. “I have been told that, yes.”
“I need to introduce him to Pinkie Pie,” said Cinnamon Roll. “Right now, I’m givin’ him a tour of the town.”
“That’s wonderful, Sweetie! In fact…” Bon-Bon’s face lit up excitedly. “Since you’re here, you guys can sample my latest creation! You don’t mind, do you? I would like the opinion of a real chef…”
Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll regarded each other a moment. “Well, we’re not chefs yet,” said Cinnamon slowly. “But, sure. We’d be glad to help.”
“Thanks! Back in a tick!” Bon-Bon disappeared into her shop, reappearing a minute later carrying a tray that appeared to be covered in small balls of chocolate.
“It’s a new recipe I’m trying,” she explained, offering the tray to the four. “You inspired it Cinnamon Roll, but I did some research on Mexicolt culture and I think I got it right. What do you think?”
Cinnamon Roll bit into hers. The chocolate was strong and quite bitter though a touch of sweetness kept it from being too powerful. As it melted, a new sensation made her tongue tingle. Her nostrils flared and the taste became stronger.
“Chilies,” cried Gulliand, his eyes opening wide. “Chilies with chocolate! I have tried this before, but never like this! It tastes so…true and pure.”
Bon-Bon grinned. “It’s the chocolate, I bet. I used an old Quezecoltal recipe. Pure chocolate, no milk, just a touch of sugar to cut the bitterness and chilies…" She tossed her mane and added in a soft, sultry voice. "To awaken the passion!"
Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand glanced at each other before quickly turning away, their cheeks blushing crimson. Twinkle’s face blazed hot, her thoughts suddenly full of a certain handsome draconequess colt. Only Applespike seemed unaffected.
“This is pretty good, Miss Bon-Bon. I think I’ll buy a couple dozen for the dinner tonight.”
“It is… very good,” said Gulliand a little shakily. A bead of sweat slid down his face. “Cinnamon Roll was not joking when she said you were a master candy maker.”
Bon-Bon blushed a bright pink. “Thank you! Coming from chefs like you two, that’s praise indeed.”
“Well,” said Cinnamon Roll, her voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak. “We’d like to stay, but I still have some places I want to show Gulliand before going to the farm. It was good to see you.”
“It was good to see you, too! And thank you both for the feedback!”
Cinnamon Roll waited until they were out of sight of Bon-Bon’s shop before snatching the bottle of milk from her brother’s saddle bag and taking a big swig.
“Hooo! That’s better,” she sighed, hoofing the bottle to Gulliand. “That candy was good but the chili spice…it kinda lingers.”
“I know,” said Gulliand, taking a small sip. “Lucky for me I like spicy foods.”
“I thought it was great,” said Applespike. “Spicy food doesn’t bother me, being part dragon and all. By the way, what did Miss Bon-Bon mean by ‘awaken the passion’?”
Blushing, Cinnamon Roll whispered the meaning in her brother’s ear. The dragon-colt’s eyes became round as saucers.
“Wow!” he muttered, staring at the white paper bag that held his candy. “Better be careful who I give these to.”
Across the street, the door to Sugar Cube Corners opened with a ding and a plump blue mare with a pink mane styled to resemble the icing on a cupcake dragged a large menu board outside. The warm smell of bread and cake wafted strongly from the open door.
“Mrs. Cake!” cried Cinnamon Roll. “Mrs. Cake!”
The blue mare turned her head, her eyes widening in delight. “Cinnamon Roll? Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” cried the filly, trotting across the street to draw the mare into a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you, too, sweetie,” Mrs. Cake murmured, returning the hug. “And congratulations on your upcoming graduation! We are all so proud of you! Pumpkin and Pound Cake both said you did really well in their baking classes.”
“Thank you! It felt a little weird having the Cake Twins as professors, but it turned out fine. They’re both excellent teachers.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” the blue mare murmured, her eyes wet with liquid pride. “And who is this?” she added, looking at the approaching griffon.
“Mrs. Cake, this is my special some-griffon, Gulliand. Gulliand, this is Mrs. Cake, co-owner of Sugar Cube Corners.”
“Madame,” said Gulliand, taking her proffered hoof and bowing over it. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Cinnamon Roll has nothing but the highest praise for you and your confections.”
“Oh, she’s just biased,” Mrs. Cake replied modestly, a pinkish blush illuminating her cheeks. “Please, come on in! We have some breakfast treats fresh from the oven!”
“You all go ahead,” said Twinkle Sparkle. Her cheeks were still pink and her legs were trembling slightly. “I-I-I really need to get home and…take a long, cold shower. S-see you tonight!”
“Okay. Bye!”
Cinnamon Roll, Applespike, and Gulliand stepped into the bakery. The griffon was very impressed with the layout and how neatly the table and chairs were arranged. Though quite modest, the cafe was warm and inviting. Perhaps, the fact that the restaurant was also the family’s home made it that much more appealing. The three sat at a table as the blue mare hurried behind the counter. A rich smell of fresh coffee, sweet cream, and hazelnut filled the air.
“I’m sure Dinky fed you breakfast this morning,” said Mrs. Cake returning with a tray that held three tall glasses. “Least I can do is offer you a breakfast drink.”
“Whoa!” cried Cinnamon Roll as the mare set their glasses down in front of them. “Iced coffee! When did you and Mr. Cake start serving this?”
“Jewel told us about it after she came home last year. She said it was all the rage in Manehattan. I thought it was a little silly at first, I mean who wants cold coffee? But it was very popular, especially during the summer months.”
“This is very good,” said Gulliand, smacking his tongue against his beak thoughtfully. “Vanilla, a dash of cocoa… and is that Prench Roast I taste?”
“Yes, it is!” cried Mrs. Cake in surprise. “You’re the first customer to notice that! Most can’t tell the difference between the types of coffees.”
“Gulliand is good at identifying flavors and figuring out which ones work well together,” said Cinnamon Roll proudly.
“It is true,” the griffon shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “It is a talent I have always had. It is one of the things that led me to being a chef.”
“If you’re in town long enough maybe you could make us some of that gumbo you made for Pinkie Pie and Princess Twilight,” said Mr. Cake, emerging from the kitchen. His yellow fur was dusted white with flour. “Both of them said it was really good.”
“Ugh!” Gulliand threw up his claws in mock annoyance. “I am beginning to think everyone in this town knows about my gumbo!”
“Well, Pinkie did spread the word around,” said Applespike with a grin. “She calls you the Gumbo Griffon.”
“PFFFFT!” Coffee sprayed across the table.
“Sorry!” Cinnamon choked, her sides heaving with suppressed laughter. “Hee-hee! I swear, I had no idea!”
Gulliand regarded his fiancée with a wry smile.
“Now, I really must meet this Pinkie Pie,” he declared, chugging down the rest of his coffee. He turned to the Cakes. “Do you know where I might find her?”
Mr. Cake put a hoof to his chin thoughtfully. “Well, she might be home right now, or at her business planning a party. Sometimes she helps us out with the lunch rush.” The stallion’s eyes strayed to the window. “But usually…” his voice trailed off.
Gulliand frowned. “Usually what?”
“Usually,” said Mr. Cake backing up slightly. “Pinkie Pie finds…YOU!”
“Wha--?”
BOOM!
The roar of a cannon rattled the café. Berry scented confetti and streamers rained down in a blinding torrent. As it cleared, a bouncing pink blur bounded into the bakery, singing at the top of its voice.
“OH, WELCOME TO PONYVILLE, WE’RE SO GLAD YOU CAME!
WE HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR VISIT, AND WE GET TO KNOW YOUR NAME!
WE’LL CELBRATE YOUR COMING, WE ALWAYS DO IT RIGHT!
WE’LL CELEBRATE YOUR VISIT WITH BIG PARTY TONIGHT!”
“Morning, Pinkie!” called Cinnamon Roll.
“Cinnamon Roll!” squealed Pinkie Pie, tackling the brown mare out of her seat. The two somersaulted across the floor until Cinnamon found herself on her back with the pink mare sitting on her tummy. “Oooh! I’m soooo glad to see you! I knew you were coming today because of the dinner at Sweet Apple Acres, but I didn’t know Gulliand, the Great Gumbo Griffon, was coming with you until my Pinkie Sense started kicking in, so I got my party cannon and headed on over to give him a big Ponyville Welcome! Uh…where is he by the way?” She asked, looking around.
Applespike smirked and pointed towards the ceiling. Everyone looked up to see the griffon hanging upside down from the ceiling, all four claws dug deep into the wood. His feathers and fur stood on end and his eyes were as wide as soup bowls.
“Um, Gulliand…”
“WHAT THE FLAP WAS THAT!” he screeched.
“That is what we around here call the Welcome Wagon,” Mr. Cake grinned. He always enjoyed watching other creature’s reactions to Pinkie’s exuberant greetings. “Pinkie Pie just goes a little overboard with it.”
Gulliand turned his head to glare at the yellow stallion. “A LITTLE?”
“Sorry, Sweetie,” Cinnamon Roll called from her place on the floor. “I guess I didn’t prepare you enough for this.”
Applespike snorted. “Nothing could prepare you for Pinkie Pie.”
“You can come down. It’s all right!”
Despite the assurances, it took a good ten minutes before Gulliand could be coaxed into releasing his death grip on the ceiling and return to the table. His fur stayed raised even after he had taken his seat and sparks flew from it when Cinnamon Roll tried to comfort him. Mrs. Cake fixed him a nice cup of chamomile tea to calm his nerves.
“Thank you, Madame,” he croaked as he accepted the cup. Mmmmm. Even frazzled as he was, he took time to savor the taste. “Delicious.”
“Don’t you know it!” cried Pinkie Pie bouncing excitedly. “Mr. and Mrs. Cake not only make the best cakes but also the bestest drinks in Equestria! Tea, lemonade, hot chocolate, or coffee! I absolutely LOVE their coffee!”
“We only serve her decaf,” Mr. Cake murmured out the side of his mouth. “For obvious reasons.” The griffon nodded.
“I am glad to finally meet you, Madame Pinkie,” he said, giving her a little nod. He didn’t dare take her hoof for fear she’d accidently punch him in the beak. “Everyone tells me you speak well of my cooking.”
“Well, DUH!” cried Pinkie, leaning in uncomfortably close. “That gumbo you made for Twilight and me was DELISH! We ate so much of it I’m surprised there was any left when we reached Whinnyapolis! But there was enough to give to Rainbow Dash and her family a bowl apiece. They all said it was great! So, it’s not just me saying it! You’re a Great Gumbo Making Griffon!”
Gulliand leaned back as far as he could, giving her a weak smile. “Thank you. I-I appreciate your critique.”
“You’re welcome,” Pinkie chirped brightly. “I’m really glad you’re Cinnamon Roll’s special somegriffon! I was just telling the Tri-Pies the other day that—”
Pinkie suddenly stopped. Her whole body became rigid, her tail stood straight up and began to rock back and forth like a metronome. Tick-tick-tick-tick. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking at Gulliand then Cinnamon Roll...Gulliand then Cinnamon Roll...Gulliand then Cinnamon Roll…
Suddenly, Pinkie gasped. A huge grin nearly split her face and her eyes widened in growing excitement. All five creatures regarded her warily.
“Uh, Pinkie…” Cinnamon Roll began.
“Well, I gotta be going, now,” said Pinkie suddenly. “There’s a lot of party planning I have to do today and I have to get ready for the dinner at Sweet Apple Acres. I’ll see you both tonight! I guarantee it!” she emphasized with a wink to the couple. She glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Cake then leaned in to whisper in Cinnamon’s ear. “I recommend a sour cream cake with buttercream icing, three tiers, and white roses.”
The brown mare did not reply but only stared in surprise as the party pony zipped out the door, leaving a small cloud of confetti in her wake. The quiet that followed was like the calm after the storm. After a moment, Gulliand resumed sipping his chamomile tea. The others stared at each other in wonder.
“Well,” said Mrs. Cake. “Pinkie must have something really important going on. That’s got to be the quickest I’ve ever seen her leave a Welcome to Ponyville celebration.”
“I know,” Mr. Cake nodded. “She didn’t even leave one of her signature cupcakes.”
As he spoke, there was a slamming noise from upstairs. As they looked up, they all saw a red balloon slowly drifting down towards the table. Attached to its string was a yellow cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. As if in a dream, Gulliand caught it and swiped off some of the icing with his talon. His eyes widened in surprise as he tasted it.
“It-it’s lemon! H-h-how did she—”
“Thanks, Pinkie!” Cinnamon Roll yelled towards the ceiling.
“You’re welcome!” came the muffled reply.
Gulliand stared at the ceiling, his brain trying and failing to make sense of what had just happened. He looked to Cinnamon Roll and Applespike but they were calmly sipping their iced coffee like it was all perfectly normal. Even the Cakes, whose diner had been blasted by a party cannon, seemed to take it in stride. Mr. Cake went back into the kitchen to check on some buns while Mrs. Cake brushed the confetti off the table, mumbling something about getting a new lock on the roof hatch.
Eventually, the griffon returned to the lemon cupcake in his claw. Sighing, he brought it to his beak and slowly ate it. It was very good.
“Man, I need to hang out with ya’ll more often,” said Applespike cheerfully as Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand finally stumbled out of the bakery behind him. “I ain’t had that many sweets since the last Apple family reunion!”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” groaned Cinnamon. The mare winced and put a hoof to her slightly distended belly. “Ugh! How are you holdin’ up, Gulliand?”
“I-I am all right…I think,” the griffon gasped beside her. He breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “Ooof! When Madam Cake asked us to sample a few items, I didn’t think she meant the whole menu!”
Cinnamon nodded. It was one of the hazards of being a student at one of the best cooking schools in Equestria. Everybody wanted you to sample their food. Usually, it would start with a fellow cook requesting her opinion on a new recipe and end with her sampling everything in the kitchen but the dish water! Mrs. Cake had not been quite that eager, but the desserts she had fed them were rich and very filling.
Only Applespike seemed unaffected. He trotted a little way ahead, humming a happy tune and wagging his dragon tail. After a moment, the two reluctantly followed.
“Is this the way to your home?” asked Gulliand as they slowly left the town behind.
Cinnamon Roll nodded. “Yep. Sweet Apple Acres. Just a few miles down the--BRRRRAAK!”
Applespike whirled around and stared at his sister in wide-eyed surprise. “Well, excuse you!”
Cinnamon blushed. If she and her brother had been alone, she would have laughed it off. Now, she glanced at Gulliand and cringed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she whispered.
The griffon softly nudged her. “It is all right, Cherie. It is nothing to be ashamed of. You should hear my sisters after Hearth’s Warming feast!” he chuckled.
Cinnamon grinned. “Well, at least I feel better. My stomach’s still tight as a drum, though.”
Applespike looked at his sister strangely. “What’s wrong with you? You used to be able to put away a lot more than that AND still be able to buck half the orchard.”
“I know.” The little brown filly looked down at her body. She noticed the slight softening of the muscles in her legs and lowered her head in shame. “I ain’t workin’ like I used to…and it shows,” she muttered.
Gulliand leaned down to softly nuzzle her cheek. “You are still a hard worker, Cherie,” he murmured in her ear. His claw gently cupped her chin, raising her head to look at him. “It is just different work.”
Cinnamon smiled, her eyes becoming heavily lidded as she gazed up at him. Applespike quickly turned away as his sister kissed Gulliand full on his beak. It was not the first time he had seen them kiss. The year before, while he and Zany were helping Jewel escape to Canterlot, he had come across the two making out in the Culinary College gardens. He still wondered how in the Wide World of Equestria she managed to kiss a creature with no lips.
“We need to get goin’,” he said after a while. “It’s almost eleven o’clock and I promised Uncle Big Mac I’d cover his chores while he sets up the gazebo.”
Sighing, the two reluctantly broke the kiss and resumed their walk to the farm. The dragon-pony trotted in front of them while they followed at a more sedate pace. Before long, the trio found themselves walking among the apple trees that marked the border of Sweet Apple Acres. Gulliand had always been impressed with the way ponies grew their food. Griffons either had small gardens or foraged from the trees that grew at the bottom of the mountain. He had seen the vast vineyards of Prance, a whole valley full of sweet grapes, and the sight had filled him with wonder. He felt that wonder again as he gazed at the groves of carefully tended apple trees.
“Why did you sigh?” asked Cinnamon Roll.
“Just wishing Griffonstone had farms like this,” he said sadly. “Then we wouldn’t need to import so much food from Equestria.”
“That would be nice,” Cinnamon conceded. “Maybe we can ask Ma and Uncle Big Mac about it. If anyone knows how to get a farm going, it’s them.”
Gulliand shook his head, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “One thing at a time, Cherie. Let us concentrate on our restaurant first. That is the most important thing right now.”
Before long they topped a rise, giving them a view of the shallow valley below. The trees here were bigger and older, well pruned and tended. The brown dirt road they were on meandered between the trees before ending at a pretty, rose-covered lattice work arch. Beyond that, they could see Sweet Apple Acres signature big red barn and the rustic farm house beside it. Off to the side was a vegetable patch being tended by a large red stallion with a dirty blonde mane and tail. Applespike let out a whoop and took off at a gallop down the hill.
“Uncle Big Mac! Uncle Big Mac! I’m baaaaaaack! And lookit who I brung!”
The big stallion stopped what he was doing to look up at them. A second later, Applejack appeared from behind the chicken coop carrying a basket of eggs on her back. The door to the farmhouse flew open and Spike stepped outside wearing a red apron with a green apple pocket followed closely by the frail form of Granny Smith. Lastly, a yellow mare with a bright red mane tied back in a big red bow stepped from the barn. Cinnamon Roll let out a cry of joy and, forgetting everything, galloped down the hill almost as fast as Applespike.
“Aunt Apple Bloom!” she squealed.
“Cinnamon Roll!” cried the yellow mare. The brown filly barreled into her aunt, hugging her with all her might.
“I can’t believe you’re here! Ma wrote that you were comin’, but I just couldn’t believe it!”
“Well, believe it Sugar Cube,” said Apple Bloom, booping her nose. “You seriously think I’d miss celebrating my niece’s college graduation?”
Cinnamon Roll just shook her head and held her aunt even tighter. She had forgotten everything else until Apple Bloom pointedly cleared her throat.
“Ahem! Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Cinnamon Roll turned and saw Gulliand standing at the rose-covered arch, giving her a reproachful look. Mortified, she ran back to her special somegriffon.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured as she escorted him across the yard. Everyone was gathered around Apple Bloom, looking at the griffon expectantly. Cinnamon stopped a little distance from the group. Smiling, she proudly laid a hoof on Gulliand’s side.
“Everyone, this is Gulliand."
"Hello. Howdy. Pleased to see you again." they replied.
"Gulliand," said Cinnamon, extending a hoof. "This is my family!"
Gulliand stood tall as he faced the gathered members of the Apple family standing before him. He had met Applejack and Spike before at the previous Grand Galloping Gala, but the others were new to him. At least they’re smiling, he thought.
“I am pleased to meet you all,” he said with an elegant bow.
Granny’s old eyes widened in delight. “Well, I’ll be!” she cried. “It’s been a long time since I saw some critter make a bow like that! When I was a filly, all the young fellers in town used to do it. I always thought it was a right purty gesture.”
“I agree, Madam,” replied Gulliand, smiling. “I learned to do it while I was studying in Prance. It is still the custom there.”
“This is Granny Smith, the boss of Sweet Apple Acres,” said Cinnamon Roll proudly. “Her family were some of the first settlers in Ponyville. She’s always telling us stories about how life was back when she was a filly.”
The griffon chuckled. “Sounds like Grampa Gruff back in Griffonstone. He likes to tell stories of what life was like when he was young, but you have to pay him two Bits to hear it.”
“Well, here, you’ll get it all for free,” Apple Bloom giggled, giving her Granny a teasing hug. “I’m Apple Bloom, by the way,” she added, extending her hoof to Gulliand. “I’m Applejack’s little sister.”
“Ah, yes! I recognize you from the posters!” cried the griffin, his eyes lighting up. “You are in the band The Cutie Mark Crusaders! My sisters are big fans.”
Apple Bloom stared in surprise. “Whoa, I didn’t know we were popular in the Griffon Kingdom!”
Gulliand shrugged. “The older griffons tend to dismiss pony music, but the younger ones love it. Most like the grittier stuff, like Heavy Metal, but my sisters prefer Pop.”
“Well, I’ll make sure they get an autographed copy of our new album,” Apple Bloom promised.
“Thank you.” He took her hoof and gave it a small peck with his beak. “I know they will appreciate it.”
“Oooh! Such fine manners!” Granny cooed. “Take notes, young’un!” She nudged Applespike. “That there is how you treat a lady!”
The griffon chuckled as the dragon-pony squirmed in embarrassment. Applejack and Spike quickly stepped forward.
“Good to see ya again,” said Applejack, giving his claw a hearty shake. Bowing and hoof kissing wasn’t her thing. “Glad you could make it to our little shindig.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Madam.”
“Hope you like country cooking,” said Spike, wiping his dragon claw on his apron before offering it to Gulliand. “Cuz you’re gonna get plenty of it.”
“If it is half as good as Cinnamon Roll says it is, I am sure it will be delicious.”
“Well, you’ll get a sample of it soon. I’m helping Granny fix a light lunch for everyone. It should be ready in a few minutes.”
No one noticed Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand wince at the promise of more food so soon after their big taste testing at Sugar Cube Corners. “Wonderful!" said the griffon. "Can’t wait to try it.”
Granny and Spike glowed with pride. Meanwhile, Cinnamon directed her fiance’s attention to the enormous red stallion who stood patiently, chewing on a piece of straw.
“And this is Uncle Big McIntosh. He’s Ma and Apple Bloom’s older brother.”
“Howdy,” said Big Mac, offering an enormous hoof.
Gulliand gulped, remembering his experience with Cinnamon Stick. Griffons were typically bigger and stronger than average ponies, but this stallion looked bigger and stronger than average. Even his deep voice seemed to rumble like thunder.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Gulliand said, tentatively taking the proffered hoof. To his relief, the stallion did not attempt to crush him. His grip was strong as befit a pony of his size but was not overpowering.
“Uncle Big Mac’s married to Aunt Cheerilee, who’s the local school teacher. Their daughter’s named Apple Blossom, who’s married to Thunder Dash, Aunt Rainbow Dash’s oldest son. He and his sister Lightning Dash are in the Wonderbolts Reserves.” Cinnamon paused and turned to Big Mac. “Are Apple Blossom and Thunder Dash going to be here tonight?”
“Eyup!” the stallion smiled. “Lightning and her wife, too.”
“EEEEEE!” Cinnamon squealed, dancing in excitement. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been here together! I’m so looking forward to tonight!”
“We all are, Sugar Cube,” said Applejack, giving her daughter a nuzzle.
“Well,” said Spike, glancing back at the farm house. “Granny and I need to finish fixing lunch. Why don’t you all show our guest around a bit?”
“Okay, Sugar Cube!” said Applejack enthusiastically. “Come on, young’un!” she called to Gulliand. “Let me give ya a tour of the place.”
She showed him the henhouse first, explaining how the hens were fed and the eggs were gathered. Next, he was taken by the pig pen and introduced to the occupants. The griffon tilted his head in puzzlement.
“Aren’t all ponies herbivores?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“But you raise pigs?”
“Yup.”
“Do you sell them to other creatures to…eat?”
“Of course not!” Applejack gasped in horror. “We keep ‘em right here.”
“Um…” Gulliand frowned at the grunting pigs. “Why?”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Well, we couldn’t call ourselves real farmers if we didn’t! Honestly, how many farmers do you know who don’t have pigs?”
As the griffon did not know any farmers at all, he kept his beak shut.
The next stop was the dairy. Gulliand was very impressed with the operation. The stalls were neat as a pin and the cows were all sleek and fat.
“This is very nice,” he said to Applejack. “Everything is so clean and the cows look very healthy.”
A nearby heifer raised her head. “Why, thank you, dear! Such a nice thing to say!”
Gulliand jumped back with a cry of surprise. “WHAT THE FLAP?”
Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Cinnamon Roll all fell out laughing. “I’m guessin’ cows in the Griffon Kingdom don’t talk,” said Apple Bloom, wiping her eyes.
“N-n-no, they do not.” The griffon blushed in embarrassment. “I just assumed they were dumb animals like the chickens and the pigs.”
“We’re not dumb critters!” cried a red cow with white spots on her side.
“We’re Grade A bovines, don’tcha know!” put in another. “Our milk is top’o the line!”
“Best butter, you betcha!” nodded a third.
“My apologies, ladies.” Gulliand bowed with a claw over his chest. “By ‘dumb’ I meant non-sentient, unable to speak. I did not mean to insult your intelligence.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” chorused the cows, cheerfully. “Must say, you’re mighty polite for a carnivore.”
Gulliand was about to retort to this when a loud, rattling, clanging sounded outside.
“Whelp, there’s the dinner bell,” said Applejack. “Come on, ya’ll! It’s time for lunch.”
Space was tight in the Apple family kitchen, yet, somehow, they managed to fit six ponies, one dragon and one griffon around the table. The meal was light, if you considered hash browns, creamed corn, butter beans, and turnip greens served with crispy hoecake to dip in the pot liquor a light fare. Gulliand was fascinated with the greens and the pancake like hoecake.
“These tastes quite good together,” he said, holding up a stiff piece of hoecake. “What kind of flour do you make these from?”
“It’s corn meal,” answered Spike. “Ground from corn raised right here at Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Really?” the griffon nibbled the crispy cake, noting the texture and unique flavor. “I rarely use corn meal, except when I am frying fish. It’s not commonly used in Canterlot.”
“They prefer white bread there,” said Cinnamon Roll, rolling her eyes.
“Well, them high-falutin’ society ponies don’t know what they’re missin’!” cried Granny. “Back when I was a filly, we ate dandelion greens and hoecake all summer long.”
“I am curious, though,” said Gulliand. “Why do you call it hoecake?”
Granny grinned as the rest of the Apple family members rolled their eyes and quietly groaned. “Back in the day, farmers worked hard from sunup to sundown. They weren’t always able to stop work to eat a good meal. So, they’d build a fire near the fields, mix up a mess of cornmeal, then bake it on the hoe blade. That’s how it got the name ‘hoecake’.”
“We use a flat skillet now,” added Spike. “With plenty of hot oil.”
“Interesting,” the griffon mused. “What other things do you usually make using cornmeal?”
The elderly mare practically glowed with pride as she happily launched into a recitation of various recipes. Apple Bloom chuckled as she leaned close to Cinnamon Roll. “Looks like your special some-griffon is going to be stuck with Granny for a while,” she whispered.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” the brown filly snorted. “They’re talkin’ about food! He’s happier than a pig in a puddle right now.”
After lunch, everyone went back to work either finishing chores or preparing for the party that night. Spike washed the dishes while Applejack dried and set them away. Big Mac left to clean up the gazebo and set out the tables while Applespike finished weeding the garden. Granny and Gulliand sat at the table chopping onions for dressing and talking about other country recipes. Cinnamon Roll and Apple Bloom went to milk the cows.
“I see you haven’t lost your touch, dearie,” said the red cow with white spots as Cinnamon Roll gently pulled on the udders. “Gentlest hooves in the family.”
“Maybe she can give lessons to that little brother of hers,” snorted a white cow. “No offense, but Applespike pulls on the udders like he’s ringing in the New Year!”
Cinnamon Roll giggled. “I’ll talk to him,” she promised.
“I’ll be glad when you graduate and come home for keeps,” said the red cow with a swish of her tail. “Things just ain’t the same without you.”
Cinnamon Roll blushed guiltily. She could not tell them that she would not be returning to the farm.
After the milking was done, Cinnamon helped Apple Bloom count out the plates and the silverware and make sure the good tablecloths were clean. She tried to assist in the kitchen, but was ordered out by Granny and Spike. She was the guest of honor, and the guest of honor never cooks the dinner! Gulliand, who was busily chopping onions, carrots, and celery, gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Let them do this for you, Cherie,” he whispered as she was shooed away. “You will be cooking for others soon enough.”
By four o’clock everything was ready. The table under the gazebo was prepped, the plates were neatly stacked, and the food keeping warm in the oven. The mares took turns bathing in the bathroom while the men-folk used the outdoor shower close to the pump. Gulliand shivered under the ice-cold spray as he quickly cleaned himself with apple-scented soap.
“Sorry fer the cold water,” said Big Mac, lathering up next to him. “We usually just use this if we get too dirty to go in the house.”
Applespike nodded. “Ma makes me use it if I’ve been hangin’ out with Zany. She says she never knows if I might need to be decontaminated.”
Gulliand raised an eyebrow. “Decontaminated?”
“Don’t ask,” muttered Spike.
The men had just started to towel off when there was a bright flash and Fluttershy, Discord, and Zany appeared right next to them. The yellow Pegasus gave a horrified eep before covering her eyes with her hooves. Spike, Big Mac, and Applespike scrambled to wrap towels around themselves.
“DISCORD!” they screeched.
“Well, it’s so nice to see you all again,” purred the draconequess, clearly enjoying their embarrassment. “I just didn’t expect to see so much!”
“Discord!” Fluttershy’s soft voice snapped.
“What? It’s not like you ponies aren’t naked all the time, my dear!”
“Oh, come off it, Dad,” snarked Zany, rolling his eyes. “You nearly blew yourself to another dimension when Screwball accidentally walked in on you that time.”
Discord blushed crimson. “Oh, all right!” he muttered. With a snap of his claw Fluttershy was teleported to the front of the house. “There! I hope you’re satisfied,” he said sulkily crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Gulliand.
Discord looked at the griffon, a mischievous smile crawling across his face. “Well, well, well, I see Cinnamon Roll has finally brought her griffon-friend to dinner.” He snapped his fingers. POP! To his horror, Gulliand found himself laying in a giant roasting pan with an apple shoved in his beak. “Dibs on the drumstick!”
“DISCORD!”
Zany used his magic to free the frightened griffon. “Sorry about that,” he said, giving his father a dirty look. “Dad just thinks he’s being funny.”
“Well!” Discord harrumphed, his muzzle in the air. “It’s clear my talents are being wasted here! If you will excuse me, I will be setting up the lanterns in the gazebo. Ta-ta!”
In a flash, he was gone.
“Dad really doesn’t mean any harm,” said Zany, placing an apologetic hoof on Gulliand’s shoulder. “If he did, you’d be drowning in chocolate milk right now. You’ll get used to him.” The colt snickered, showing a little glint of his fang. “And don’t worry,” he whispered. “We’re not related to the Apples!”
It wasn’t long before the other guests began to arrive. Rarity and Fancy Pants trotted into the orchard followed by Sweetie Belle and their daughters Gemstone and Jewel. The couple were slightly surprised to see the griffon assisting Applespike with the place settings but greeted him warmly.
“It’s nice to see you again, Gulliand,” said Rarity, blushing as the griffon bowed over her hoof. “Such exquisite manners! One would think you were a noble of Canterlot!”
“Indeed,” agreed Fancy Pants. “If only more of us could show such grace!”
Applespike, who was busy folding napkins, leaped to his feet when he caught sight of Jewel.
“Good evenin’, Mam-wah-zel,” he said, taking her hoof and bowing over it.
Both Jewel and Gemstone tittered over the gesture. “Oh, Applespike! You are just too cute sometimes!”
Before long, Pinkie and her husband Cheese Sandwich along with the Tri-Pies bounced in. Gulliand shuddered at the sight of the pink mare, but he managed to greet her and her family politely. The three fillies were a bit more restrained than their mother and cooed as he took their hooves.
“Sweet as icing on a cinnamon roll!” squealed Cherry. “What?” she asked as her sisters face-hoofed. “What did I---Oooooohhhhh!”
“So, you’re the Great Gumbo Griffin!” cried the grinning yellow stallion. “I’m Cheese Sandwich: clown, party-planner, loving husband of Pinkie and father of these three colorful ladies. Glad to finally meet you, sir!” He said offering his hoof.
Gulliand took the proffered hoof. “I am glad to make your—”
BUZZ! An electric shock shot up the griffon’s claw making his feathers stand on end.
“Gotcha!” Cheese laughed, showing off the joy buzzer on his hoof. “That never gets old!”
And neither will you, thought Gulliand as he resisted the urge to grab the stallion by his back legs and break him like a wishbone. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Good one, sir. Very funny.”
Cinnamon Stick and Dinky arrived next. The brown stallion nodded coolly at Gulliand as his wife hurried assist with the silverware. By the time the other guests arrived, the table was set and ready to go. Twilight, Flash Sentry, and Twinkle all appeared in a magenta flash. A few seconds later, Rainbow Dash appeared like rainbow comet, pushing up grass and dirt as she skidded to a halt.
“Time!” she gasped.
“Three seconds,” said Twilight checking a stopwatch. “Two seconds better than last time.”
“Rainbow, darling, are still trying to see if you can fly as fast as Twilight can teleport?” asked Rarity, looking at her friend in some amusement. “I thought you would have given up on that a long time ago.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to get my speed back up to par before I return from maternity leave,” replied Rainbow Dash gulping down a bottle of water. “Man, it’s been a rough year! Having the twins didn’t knock me out as much as this last kid has.”
“Well, none of us are getting younger, darling,” Rarity sighed. “And having a child at our age can be very challenging. Where is little Clipper anyway?”
“Prism’s got him. She and the others should be flying in soon as long as Aqua Fresh doesn’t fall off Lightning’s back again.” Suddenly, the cyan Pegasus stiffened. “What’s a griffon doing here?” she snarled.
Gulliand froze, surprised by the sudden animosity in the mare’s voice. Rainbow Dash glared at him, her teeth bared, her shoulders hunched as though she might attack him any moment.
“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity snapped, placing herself between the griffon and her friend. “Mind your manners! This is Gulliand. He’s a friend of Cinnamon Roll’s”
“Yeah!” added Pinkie, grinning widely as she threw a hoof over the griffon’s shoulder. “He’s her veeeeeeery special some-griffon.”
“He’s the one who made that wonderful gumbo Pinkie and I brought with us when we visited you at the hospital in Whinnyapolis last year,” put in Twilight. “I remember you were glad to get it after all that hospital food.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered begrudgingly. “It was pretty good. I guess you’re okay,” she added to Gulliand. “Just watch yourself around my friends, capeesh?”
“Yes, Madam,” Gulliand replied with a nod. As Rainbow turned away, he leaned in close to Twilight. “Have I done something to offend your friend?” he whispered.
Twilight shook her head sadly. “No, Gulliand, you haven’t done anything wrong. Rainbow Dash had a bad experience with a griffon many years ago and she still hasn’t gotten over it.”
“Really?” Gulliand frowned, wondering what kind of bad experience the cyan Pegasus had suffered at the claws of his fellow griffon. He had no time to ask as Twilight, Rarity, and Pinkie all left to greet Rainbow’s family as they landed near the gazebo. The twins Thunder Dash and Lightning Dash alighted first, their respective wives dismounting from their backs. Both mares appeared thankful to be on the ground again.
“That’s it,” said Aqua Fresh shakily. The white unicorn looked much paler than usual. “No more piggy back rides! I thought for sure we were gonna die when you went into that dive!”
“For crying out loud, I was taking off from Mom’s house in Cloudsdale!” Lightning Dash cried. “I had to fly downward otherwise we’d be over the mountains by now! And don’t call it a ‘piggy back’ ride, okay! I’m not a pig!”
“It’s a Peggy Back Ride!” quipped Pinkie, popping up between the arguing couple. “Cuz you’re a Peggy-sus!”
Everyone laughed at the pun. Even Aqua Fresh and Lightning couldn’t help but grin. A few seconds later Soarin arrived followed by Scootaloo and Prism carrying the newest addition to the family. All the mares gathered around to look at the little foal and coo over him. Cinnamon Roll, who had not been in Ponyville when the baby was born, ran to the gazebo to get her first glimpse of him.
He was so tiny, barely over two months old, his wee wings folded close to his sleeping body. He had a cornflower blue coat and dark blue-gray mane like his father, but his tail was long and rainbow colored like his mother. Cinnamon softly ran a hoof over the foal’s back, dawwing as his little wings shivered at her touch.
“Oh, Aunt Rainbow Dash! He’s beautiful!” she said in a loud whisper.
“Thanks,” answered Prism before her mom could speak. “He’s been a great baby. Really sweet and well behaved.”
“Huh, if he didn’t have our coloring, I’d have thought we picked up the wrong baby,” said Soarin.
“Very funny, Dad,” grumbled Thunder Dash as everyone except his twin sister laughed. “We weren’t that bad.”
“Oh, but I beg to differ, my dears!” said Discord suddenly appearing next to the twins to pinch their cheeks. “You two were almost as chaotic as Screwball and just as destructive. I have the video to prove it!” A large movie screen and projector appeared next to them.
“All right! Home movies!” cried Zany. A row of theatre seats appeared with Applespike, Jewel, and Twinkle sitting in them wearing 3-D glasses. The draconequess colt plopped down next to Twinkle. “Roll film!”
“TWELVE INCH RULE!” cried Discord and Twilight at the same time, each levitating a ruler between the two. Zany and Twinkle huffed in annoyance.
“Drat!”
“Hey, guys! What’s going on?” asked a new voice.
A pink mare with swirling eyes wearing a beanie with a propeller on the top slowly materialized in front of the group followed by a tall black Changeling with a cobweb-like blue mane. Thunder, Lightning, and Apple Blossom squealed in delight.
“Screwy! Mothball!”
The three rushed to hug the couple. Aqua Fresh smiled nervously and greeted them from a distance. Thunder Dash and Apple Blossom cooed in delight as they noticed the tiny black foal Screwball was carrying in a basket on her back. The infant looked like a pony until you noticed the black carapace and little holes in her tiny legs. Her little mane was white and purple like her mother’s but was cobwebby like her father’s.
“She is so cute!” squealed Apple Blossom. “What did you name her?”
“Puffball,” said Screwy, grinning broadly.
“We thought about calling her Softball,” added Mothy. “Or even Wiffleball, but we thought she looked more like a Puffball.”
Thunder Dash tilted his head and looked at the hairless foal. “Yeah. I guess she does.”
No one seemed to notice the griffon standing off to the side as he watched the joyful reunion. Gulliand remembered seeing the strange mare and the Changeling at last year’s Gala and knew they were connected to Discord somehow. He knew the Pegasi were all related to the angry rainbow mare and that the Pegasus mare with the orange and yellow mane was married to the white unicorn mare with the red and blue striped mane. Same sex marriages were not allowed in the Griffin Kingdom, but Gulliand had spent so much time in Equestria that he did not think it odd at all. His eyes flitted over the group, trying to remember what Cinnamon Roll had told him about her friends and their families, but with everyone milling about it was becoming confusing. Eventually, Cinnamon Roll made her way to where he was standing.
“You okay?” she asked softly. “You look a little lost.”
The griffin nodded. “It is a lot to take in. There is so much going on. It’s…crazy!”
“Yep,” said Cinnamon Roll, smiling broadly. “It’s family.”
A few minutes later Granny with Spike and Applejack pushing the food cart made their way through the crowd.
“Every critter, wash up! It’s time to eat!” cried Granny as she took her place at the head of the table. Discord snapped his eagle claw, and a faucet and soap dispenser appeared in midair. After everyone had washed their hooves or claws, they took their place at the table. Applejack and Spike sat to the left of Granny, followed by Cinnamon Stick and Dinky. Fancy Pants and Rarity with Sweetie Belle and Gemstone sat next to them. Opposite them sat Rainbow’s family with Apple Blossom sitting next to her parents. Prism and baby Clipper, who was still asleep, sat next to Gemstone along with the excited Tri-Pies. Discord, as usual took up position at the other end of the table flanked by Fluttershy and Screwball with Mothball. Twilight Sparkle and Flash Sentry sat on the same side of the table as Fluttershy while Pinkie and Cheese Sandwich plopped down next to Mothy.
The Chaotic Three, Jewel, Applespike, and Zany, sat near the middle. Twinkle had wanted to sit with them but Discord and her mother had placed her between Cheese Sandwich and the Tri-Pies. The little alicorn was a little annoyed at the arrangement, but glad she hadn’t been forced to sit next to her parents.
Cinnamon Roll sat next to Granny as the guest of honor. Gulliand sat beside her.
The long rectangular table groaned under the weight of the good food. There were platters of fried veggie sausage with savory mushroom gravy, huge bowls of creamed corn, seasoned snap beans, and black-eyed peas, an enormous pan of cornbread dressing, and a platter of Apples N' Onions. Rainbow Dash eyed the last dish suspiciously.
“Seriously?” she asked. “Are you sure that isn’t something Discord came up with?”
“Oh, no, my dear,” Fancy Pants assured her. “This is a delicacy Cinnamon Roll introduced to us last year. I assure you it is quite delicious.”
“That’s good enough for me, sir,” said Soarin’, spooning a small helping onto his plate. His family watched as he took a bite, his eyes lighting up in delight. “He wasn’t kidding! This is good!”
Everypony backed up as the twins and Rainbow Dash made a play for the Apples N' Onions. POOF! THUD! Their spoons hit the table as the platter disappeared then reappeared in front of Discord.
“Excuse me,” the draconequess said coolly as he calmly helped himself to a modest serving. “You’re not the only ones at the table, you know.”
For once, no one admonished him.
Gulliand thoroughly enjoyed the feast. Though a carnivore, he enjoyed the deliciously seasoned vegetables and delighted in the savory corn bread dressing he had assisted making with Granny. After a while, when the guests finally looked to be slowing down, Spike rose and tapped his glass to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you,” he said as the guests quieted down and turned to listen. “First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. It’s wonderful to see all our family and friends again: Lightning Dash, Thunder Dash, Aqua Fresh, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo. It’s been a long time. We are so happy you could take time out of your busy schedules to be here.”
“Are you kidding?” cried Thunder Dash, smiling at Cinnamon Roll. “We wouldn’t have missed this for anything!”
“The first Apple to graduate with a Bachelorette’s Degree!” added Apple Blossom. “I am so proud!”
“We all are!” said Twilight Sparkle.
“Here, here!” agreed Fancy Pants, raising his glass. “To Cinnamon Roll! May her future be bright!”
“To Cinnamon Roll!” everyone toasted.
The little brown mare blushed brightly, tears pricking her eyes as she watched the creatures she loved most celebrating her accomplishment. Suddenly, she was aware of an arm sliding across her back and a claw gently squeezing her shoulder. She looked up and found herself staring into the loving face of her griffon. His golden eyes shone softly in the lantern light, she could feel them beckoning her…
“So, what are you gonna do after you graduate?”
Cinnamon startled as Rainbow Dash’s gravelly voice broke the enchantment.
“I-I-I’m sorry?”
The older mare rolled her eyes. “What are you gonna do after you graduate? You gonna come back to Ponyville or are you gonna work in one of those fancy restaurants up in Canterlot?”
“Ewww! I hope not!” cried Pinkie Pie, looking disgusted. “Everything up there tastes like tissue paper and cardboard!”
“Yeah!” agreed Cheese with a shudder. “And they give you such tiny portions!”
“Well,” said Cinnamon Roll. “I can promise you I will not be working in Canterlot.”
“Oh, drat,” murmured Fancy Pants. “There went Canterlot’s last hope.”
“But what are you gonna do?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “You’re, like, graduating from some fancy-schmancy college! You got plans, don’t you?”
“Leave her alone, Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack, standing up to face her friend. “She’s been attending school for four years. She might need a little time off before she makes any big decisions like that.”
“Actually, Ma," said Cinnamon Roll suddenly. "I do know what I’m gonna do!”
Everyone became silent as the brown filly rose from her seat. “My friend Gulliand is going to open a restaurant. He asked me to be his partner…and I agreed.”
There was a gasp of surprise followed by applause and congratulations. Only Rainbow Dash didn’t look pleased, her eyes narrowed suspiciously on the griffon. Meanwhile, Pinkie Pie looked ready to explode. An enormous grin was spread across her face and her tail was ticking back and forth like a metronome again.
“Well, that is wonderful!” cried Rarity. “You are both such talented cooks, I am sure you will do well. LeGrand and Apple!”
Cinnamon Roll bit her lip. “Actually, Aunt Rarity, it’s gonna be LeGrand and…LeGrand.”
Everyone sat in silence as the little mare drew Gulliand to her side. Her heart beat loud in her chest and her hoof tightly gripped the griffon’s strong claw as she spoke.
Gulliand yelled and crushed Cinnamon Roll to him as an explosion rocked the gazebo. Most of the members of their dumbfounded audience were surprised as well. The babies, Clipper and Puffball, both woke up wailing. Prism quickly comforted her little brother while Screwy and Mothy scurried to calm their daughter as cinnamon scented confetti rained down. The female draconequess glared at the pink party pony.
“AUNT PINKIE!”
“I KNEW IT!” squealed Pinkie Pie, ignoring Screwball as she leaped over the table to hug the new couple. “I KNEW the two of you were going to get married! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”
“WHAT?” cried Gulliand in shock. “But…but how? We didn’t—"
“Pinkie Sense!” the pink party pony replied. “My tail ticks back and forth like a metronome whenever there’s gonna be a wedding announcement and my tail’s been a-tickin ever since I saw you two this morning!”
“When the tail’s a swingin’, wedding bells will be ringin’,” Cheese confirmed with a nod.
“If it’s twitching, there’ gonna be a hitching,” said Blueberry.
“If it goes tik-tok, somepony’s tying the knot,” added Raspberry.
“A ticking tail means love will prevail,” intoned Cherry.
“EXACTLY!” shouted Pinkie grabbing her party cannon for another volley. “CONGRAT—”
POOF!
A large cork appeared in the mouth of the cannon.
POOF!
Pinkie was returned to her seat beside her husband. The pink mare looked around in wide-eyed surprise.
“Wow! I didn’t see that com--!”
POOF!
A large green apple appeared in her mouth.
“Puffball!” said Screwy, looking sharply at her infant daughter who was sitting up in her basket, her little black horn alight. The little Changeling-Draconequess just yawned innocently and settled back down to sleep.
“Okay, everybody,” said Twilight, standing up. “I think we’re getting off the subject." She turned to Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand with a smile. “Let me be the first to congratulate the new couple!”
“Yes!” cried Screwball. “Congratulations!”
“I’m so happy for you!” Fluttershy piped up. Discord stood, or rather floated, up from the table with a glass of cider held high in his eagle talon.
“From one odd couple to another,” he said with a smirk.
“Congratulations!” cried everyone. Even Rainbow Dash, whose mouth was screwed up as if she had tasted a lemon, gave a reluctant nod. Only two creatures seated at the table remained silent and still. Spike and Applejack sat frozen, staring with wide eyes. Cinnamon Roll’s smile faltered as she noticed their shocked expressions. Spike held his wife’s hoof tightly. He could feel her pulse racing and knew his own heart was about to pound out of his chest. His breath came out in short pants.
“Pa? Ma?” asked Cinnamon Roll timidly.
The couple just continued to stare, their minds far away.
Applejack and Spike sat on a cushioned bench in the adoption center’s waiting room. Their hearts raced with excitement and trepidation.
“Oh, Spike. Do you think the young’uns will like us?”
Spike held his wife’s hoof tightly in his pudgy claw.
Two little brown foals stepped timidly towards the waiting couple. The first was a colt with a short dark mane who looked to be about five years old. The other was a tiny filly, no more than two years old, with a cream-colored mane that somepony had styled into two wee braids. Both stared at the couple in surprise and awe. The colt’s eyes opened wide in delight.
“Wow! Our new dad is a dragon?”
Spike grinned. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine!” The colt scrambled onto the bench between Applejack and Spike.
The tiny filly stared at the new couple shyly. Applejack leaned towards her. “It’s okay, Sugarcube. You can sit up here by me, if you like.”
Slowly the little filly climbed up onto the bench and nestled down in Applejack’s lap like she belonged there. Tears formed in the farm pony’s eyes.
“Ma?” asked the little filly.
“Ma?”
Applejack and Spike jolted as if waking from a trance. They blushed as they realized they had become the center of attention.
“S-s-sorry about that,” stammered Applejack blushing. “I kinda got lost there for a minute.” She turned to Cinnamon Roll and felt a deep ache in her chest. Tears pricked her eyes.
“Congratulations, Sugar Cube,” she whispered. She glanced at Gulliand her lips pressed tight. “He…he is a fine feller…” Suddenly the ache in her heart rose to her throat and a loud sob escaped her. Spike threw his arms around his wife, holding her tightly as tears slid down his cheeks.
Big Mac stood up and quickly went to his sister’s side and embraced the couple in one of his strong arms. An emotional Cheerilee soon joined him followed by Fluttershy who fluttered across the table to lend her support.
“It’s okay, AJ,” Big Mac murmured comfortingly. “Believe me, Cheerilee and I know just what you’re goin’ through.”
“It about broke our hearts when Apple Blossom told us she was getting married,” said Cheerilee, wiping away a stray tear.
Thunder Dash was stunned. “What? What was wrong with me?” he whispered to his wife.
Apple Blossom rolled her eyes. “Nothing, sweetie. Shush!”
“It was hard for us when we realized Screwy was getting married,” said Fluttershy soothingly. “It was especially hard for Discord. But everything turned out for the best.” She glanced lovingly at the former Changeling prince. “Mothy is a good husband and a great father.”
“Almost as good as me,” added Discord with a smirk.
Applejack gave a little huffing laugh at that. She raised her tear-stained face to smile at her brother and friends. “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned her gaze to Cinnamon Roll who was leaning against Gulliand for comfort. “I…We…love you, Darlin’. And we’re happy for you.”
“W-what she said,” Spike choked, wiping his eyes with the back of his claw.
The other guests sighed in relief.
“Oh, Darling! This is so thrilling!” cried Rarity, clasping her hooves in excitement. “It’s been so long since I’ve designed a wedding dress for a member of our little group. Oh! I have some ideas already!” She snatched out her ever-present notepad and began a quick sketch.
“And Mom gets to host the bridal shower!” cried the Tri-Pies, hopping up and down. “We need to let the Cakes know so they can bake you a wedding cake!”
“Don’t forget the invitations to the kinfolk!” said Applejack, wiping her eyes.
“Yep!” agreed Big Mac.
“And I will officiate,” Twilight offered. “I might need to brush up on griffon customs, though. Oooh! I wonder if they still practice ceremonial piercings in the Kingdom! I might need to get a lance from—”
“That won’t be necessary, Aunt Twilight,” said Cinnamon Roll quickly, looking a little pale. “We weren’t plannin’on goin’ all out. You see, we were plannin’ on gettin’ married right after graduation.”
“Graduation?” asked Spike looking at them sharply. “That’s two weeks away! We’d never get the Apple kin here in time.”
“Oh, dear! I have several projects that need my attention this week,” added Rarity, looking distressed. “I’d never have a proper dress ready for you in time.”
“I know the Cakes are swamped with orders right now,” put in Blueberry Pie. “And Mom’s got that massive party next weekend in Manehattan.”
Pinkie, who still had the green apple stuck in her mouth, nodded her head sadly. Cheese Sandwich slid a comforting arm over her shoulders. He looked at Cinnamon Roll with pleading eyes.
“Couldn’t you wait just a few more weeks?” he asked. “So, we can all give you a proper send off?”
The brown filly dropped her eyes to the table. “I…I can’t. You see it’s really important that Gulliand and I get married as soon as possible.”
“Oh,” groaned the stallion in disappointment. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and his jaw fell open. “OOOOHHHHH!”
“What?” asked Cinnamon Roll confused by the look of shock on Cheese’s face. She glanced across the table at her parents. Applejack’s eyes were wide as dinner plates while Spike’s green eyes were glowing bright. Wisps of smoke trickled thickly from his nostrils. The brown filly gulped. “P-P-Pa?”
“Well, well, well,” drawled Discord, appearing in the air directly above the couple. “I must say this has got to be the most interesting dinner party I’ve been to in a long time. However, as entertaining as all this high drama is, I suppose it up to me address the elephant in the room. So, Cinnamon Roll,” the draconequess leaned down to grin into her face. “Do you happen to have a little cinnamon bun baking in the oven?”
The air around the table almost vanished as everyone gasped in shock.
“DISCORD!”
“What?” he asked innocently. “You can’t tell me I was the only one here thinking it!”
“But it wasn’t your place to ask, dear,” hissed Fluttershy, hurrying to shush her husband.
Discord snorted. “Oh, like they were going to ask!” he said waving a talon at Applejack and Spike. He turned back to Cinnamon Roll. “By the way, you may want to answer my question before your Dad decides to roast your esteemed fiancé.”
“Oh!” cried Cinnamon Roll, placing herself between Gulliand and her father. “No! No, it’s not like that! There is no…uh…bun…baking at this time. In fact, it might be a while before we bake any…buns.”
There was a collective sigh of relief and one disappointed groan. “But I like cinnamon buns,” muttered Cherry.
“Thank Celestia!” Applejack breathed her head bowed in gratitude. “Whoo, goodness! You scairt mah mules there for a minute.”
“Yeah, mine too,” said Spike shakily as he returned to his seat. “Sorry about that,” he added to Gulliand. The griffon graciously bowed in response.
“Hold on a minute,” said Apple Bloom suddenly. She narrowed her eyes at the young couple. “If you two ain’t, you know, expecting then why are ya’ll in such a big hurry to get married?”
“Yeah, why is that?” asked Scootaloo.
Cinnamon Roll swallowed hard as everyone looked at them expectantly. This was the part she was dreading. “W-well,” she stammered. “Gulliand got word this week that Princess Celestia has approved a grant for him to set up his restaurant!”
“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Twilight. “How much were you able to get?”
“Ten thousand bits, madam,” replied Gulliand proudly. The ponies whistled at the amount.
“I say, that is a very generous sum!” remarked Fancy Pants. “Do you have a site in mind, my boy?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Gulliand. “My Grandmother owns a lot of land and some vacant houses. She is letting me have one of the houses to convert into a restaurant but we need to get up there as soon as possible before any squatters try to take over.”
“We’d have to get a place to stay,” added Cinnamon Roll. “And it wouldn’t be right, us livin’ together without gettin’ married first.”
Applejack and Spike looked away uncomfortably, knowing their daughter was right but hating the idea of her not having a proper wedding. They couldn’t recall any Apple family member that had not had a good old-fashioned wedding with all the trimmings! It just went against tradition! But…if they needed to then--
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just wait a minute!” Rainbow Dash’s gravelly voice interrupted their thoughts. The cyan mare stood up, bringing her forehooves down hard on the table as she eyed Gulliand suspiciously. “You said your Grandmother gave you an abandoned house to use for your restaurant?”
“Yes, madam,” Gulliand replied.
The Pegasus leaned across the table. “And your Grandmother owns land in Equestria?” she asked.
Gulliand glanced worriedly at Cinnamon Roll. “Um…no, madam.”
The griffin startled as the rainbow mare zipped over to him and pushed her face aggressively into his. “Then where is it?”
“Griffonstone!” cried Cinnamon Roll before Gulliand could reply. “The Princess gave him a grant to set up a restaurant in Griffonstone.”
The total silence that greeted that announcement was broken by a loud POP as Pinkie removed the apple from her mouth.
“Whoa! Even I didn’t see that coming!” she cried. “Griffonstone’s a loooooooong way away! Even Cheesy hasn’t been to Griffonstone, and he’s been everywhere!”
“Well, of course he hasn’t been there,” snapped Rainbow Dash derisively. “That’s because Griffonstone is a DUMP! The whole place is a mess! The streets are dirty and all the griffons live in run-down hovels!”
“That’s not true!” cried Gulliand incensed. “Well, it is true of most of Griffonstone but there are many griffons who are well off. My family owns a fine home in the north part of town.”
“King Grover’s castle is nothing but a ruin! It’s in worse shape than the Castle of the Two Sisters was before Discord got it!” the cyan mare ranted. “And they can’t do anything to improve it because the stupid griffons don’t care! They don’t care about nothin’ but bits!”
“Rainbow Dash!” cried Twilight Sparkle, lighting up her horn. “That is enough! I will not tolerate species-ism!”
“Oh, and their so-called legendary library? It was destroyed! Nothing left but books and paper left to rot on the ground!”
Twilight dropped her aura as she gasped. “Oh! No! The horror!”
Applejack gave Gulliand a pleading look. “Is any of that true?” she asked. The griffon lowered his eyes and nodded.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is, Madam.”
“See! What’d I tell you!” said Rainbow Dash smugly.
“But that’s why Princess Celestia gave him the grant!” cried Cinnamon Roll. “So he…we…could open a restaurant as a place where griffons can get together, eat some good food, and learn about friendship!” She looked deep into the cyan Pegasus’ eyes. “Isn’t that what a child of one of the Element Bearers is expected to do?”
“Hey! Don’t use that on me!” Rainbow Dash retorted. “I know what griffons are like! They’re all nice and wantin’ to be your pal, then they turn on you! You really wanna be married AND in Griffonstone when that happens?” She whirled around to face Applejack and Spike. “Come on, guys! You can’t let this happen! You can’t give your blessing to this!”
“I am a grown mare, Aunt Rainbow Dash,” cried Cinnamon Roll before her parents could answer. “And I know my mind! I love Gulliand and he loves me. If Ma and Pa won’t give me their blessing…” Her voice caught as she tried not to cry. “If I can’t have their blessing…then we are going to elope!”
“NO!”
Everyone’s eyes turned to the head of the table where Granny Smith stood on her hind legs, her face like a thunderstorm. She was small and frail but at that moment she radiated a strength and determination that commanded every creature’s respect. Even Discord, who had been planning to make a snide remark regarding Rainbow’s judgement, chose to stay quiet. The elderly mare pointed a wrinkled hoof at Rainbow Dash who was still hovering above the table.
“Siddown, boy! You’ve done said enough!”
“What? I’m just—"
“Sit your tail down right now, mister, ‘fore I use your wings fer a feather duster!”
Rainbow Dash huffed then zipped back to her seat, where she sulked. The old Earth pony mare turned to Cinnamon Roll.
“What’s this I hear about you eloping?” she demanded. “You think you’re gonna just run off and leave us to get married by some Justice of the Peace somewhere? Not on my watch, young’un!”
“But, Granny…”
“Don’t you ‘but Granny’ me! I said no elopin’ and I mean no elopin’!”
Cinnamon Roll wilted under the Apple matriarch’s words, burying her face into Gulliand’s neck for comfort. Granny Smith continued. “You are a member of this here family and if you’re gonna get married, you’re gonna do it the right way, with a proper weddin’! That means you’re gonna have a proper weddin dress, a proper weddin’ cake, and a proper weddin’ ceremony with all your friends and kin watchin’ while you say ‘I do’!”
Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll raised their heads in surprise. “W-what?”
“I said if you two are gonna git married, you’re gonna do it right!” said Granny, banging a hoof on the table for emphasis. “That means you’re gonna wear a dress made special fer ya by your Aunt Rarity. AND you’re gonna get a big ol’ weddin’ cake with plenty of buttercream icing from the Cakes! AND you’re gonna let your friends and kinfolk throw you the biggest bridal shower this side of the danged Everfree!”
“Darned straight!” muttered Prism, earning a glare from her mother. Gemstone, Cherry, Blueberry, Raspberry, Apple Blossom, and Dinky all nodded in agreement.
“AND when you say your vows, you’re gonna be surrounded by your friends and kinfolk! The ones who care about ya the most!” A pained look crossed Granny’s face and her eyes grew moist. Concerned, Applejack, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom hurried to her side. The old mare grasped their hooves tightly before finishing. “I-I-I wasn’t there when your Pa got hitched and I ain’t never forgiven myself fer it. Please, don’t make the same mistake as me!”
The three Apple siblings stared at each other in shock. None of them had ever heard their grandmother talk about their parent’s wedding before. The other guests were just as surprised but managed to remain respectfully quiet as the old mare collected herself. Finally, it was Cinnamon Roll who broke the silence.
“Granny, Gulliand and I are leaving for Griffonstone the day after graduation. That’s two weeks away! We’d never have time—”
“So, git married later,” Granny interrupted. “Git up there, stake your claim, but come on back and git married. Or have it up there! We all can travel!”
“But…we’d be havin’ to live together without bein’ married,” said the brown filly blushing profusely. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”
“Not really,” said Discord before Granny could reply. “Remember Fluttershy and I lived together for a while before we got married. Of course, I was forcing her to live with me in hopes of getting her to fall in love with me, but that is beside the point. I don’t recall anypony looking down on her for it.”
“’Cuz they knew you’d blast ‘em to another dimension if they did,” Rainbow muttered under her breath.
Granny sighed. “Cinnamon Roll, I’ve known you since you was knee high to me…and I ain’t that big to begin with!” Everyone chuckled at that. “You’re a good filly and I reckon if I can trust you to behave yourself in a big old city like Canterlot, I can trust you to behave up there in Griffonstone, too.”
Applejack and Spike looked at each other and nodded. “That goes for us, too, Sugarcube.”
“Yeah? Well, what about him?” demanded Rainbow Dash, pointing a hoof at Gulliand. “You’re actually gonna trust him with your daughter in Griffonstone?”
Granny turned to the griffon and smiled. “I do! I like the boy. He’s got good manners, he loves cookin’, and he don’t mind talkin’ to old biddies like me! And I ain’t never seen any critter chop up onions as good as he does! That boy is a wiz!”
Gulliand shrugged. “Talons do come in handy.”
Discord waggled his eagle claw proudly. “Tell me about it.”
“UGH!” Rainbow Dash threw up her arms in frustration. “None of that matters! What matters is what’s gonna happen when they get to Griffonstone! Do any of you know—"
“Hey, Aunt Rainbow, ya wanna try some of these?”
The mare paused her tirade to look at the bowl full of little chocolate balls being hoofed to her by Applespike. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What is it?” she asked.
The dragon-pony shrugged. “Just some spicy chocolate I got from Miss Bon-Bon today.” Sitting across from him, Twinkle Sparkle had to cover her mouth with her hoof as she realized what her friend was doing. “Be careful!” added Applespike as the cyan Pegasus leaned towards the bowl. “They might be too hot for ya.”
Rainbow Dash snorted. “Hot? I can handle hot!” She snatched up three of the balls and tossed them into her mouth. Applespike and Twinkle watched closely as she chewed. “Huh! Not bad. Kinda bitter, but not as hot as some…”
Rainbow Dash suddenly froze. Her eyes dilated. A warm pink blush seared her cheeks.
“Are you okay, Dashie?” asked Soarin. “You’re not choking are y—EEP!”
He squeaked in surprise as she grabbed him and kissed him passionately on the lips. After a heated moment, they broke the kiss long enough to speak.
“We’regonnagogetsomeairseeyoulater!”
The two disappeared in a rainbow-colored streak.
Zany glanced at Applespike. “Dare I ask?”
Applespike shrugged. “Let’s just say I gave Aunt Rainbow a little something to waken the passion.”
“You sure woke up something,” the draconequess colt murmured, eying the chocolate curiously. “Might be something fun to try on Hearts and Hooves day…”
“Oooooo! Chocolate!”
SNAP
The dish of chocolates disappeared then reappeared in front of Discord. Applespike, Zany, and Twinkle all gasped in horror as he levitated half the balls to his mouth.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not going to eat them all.” He plucked one out of the air and handed it to Fluttershy. “For you, my Sweet.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“Uncle Discord, don’t…”
With a flick of his magic, the draconequess popped the balls one by one into his mouth and started to chew. Meanwhile, Fluttershy daintily bit into hers. Her pale-yellow cheeks flushed a pretty pink.
“Ooooo! It tingles!” she said in a husky giggle.
Discord was not listening. His whole body sported a dark pink blush. Wisps of steam trickled from his ears. Then, in a sudden flash of magic, he sported a tall top hat and long black cape. Without a word, he snatched up his blushing wife and with a dramatic swirl of his cape, disappeared. Zany sat up straight, tilting his head as if listening for something.
“Uh, oh,” he muttered. “I think they’re gonna be busy for a while. Dad just sound-proofed the whole castle.”
“All right, everyone, get in line just like we practiced! You march in five minutes.”
Cinnamon Roll quickly took her place in line between a unicorn mare named Cannoli Cake and a colt named Copper Pot. Nervously she checked her long black graduation gown, making sure it wasn’t riding up in the back. “Oh, fiddlesticks!” she muttered as her mortarboard slid over her eyes. “I thought I had that pinned!”
“Here, let me help ya,” said Cannoli speaking with a heavy Hooflyn accent. Using her magic, she readjusted the mortarboard and slid the bobby pins into Cinnamon’s mane. “There ya go. That oughta hold.”
“Thank you,” said Cinnamon gratefully.
“Hay, forget about it.”
Nervously, the brown Earth filly glanced down the line behind her. She could see Gulliand several ponies back. The griffon’s head was slightly bowed, his eyes focused on something she couldn’t see. Cinnamon frowned, wondering what was worrying him so. The pony in front of him who she recognized as one of Pearlescent Glow’s pastel friends stuck her tongue out at her. Cinnamon Roll replied with a loud raspberry.
Gulliand hardly noticed. His eyes were riveted on the letter he had just received from his mother. He had sent her a letter three weeks earlier informing her of his engagement. His mother, trying to save bits, had mailed her reply third class so it had arrived just that morning. He read:
Dear Gulliand,
I am writing this missive on Mummy’s behalf since she is too overwrought with emotion to put pen to paper. (In other words, Mom’s madder than a wet hen and asked me to write this for her.) She wishes to relay her disappointment in your choice of a bride. She also wonders why, if you should marry a pony, you could not have at least selected a unicorn since these might be more socially acceptable. (I would have preferred a Pegasus myself since, you know, they can fly! But, to each his own.) She had hoped to pair you with one of the O’Talon hens (Boring!) or the McPhearsome heiress (You know, the one who has a mustache almost as big as Uncle Gustave’s. Ewww!) but she supposes she can deal with the disillusionment.
Despite her heartbreak at her only son’s actions (Oh, cue the violins!) she does plan to attend the graduation ceremony with Gidget and myself in attendance. She hopes despite their humble position that your intended’s family might be worthy of a connection with the LeGrand name. (Ugh! I can’t believe I’m having to write this.)
We will see you on Graduation Day.
Your loving sister, Gigi.
PS: Don’t worry. Gidget and I have your back.
Gulliand sighed as he put the letter away. This response was much better than what he had imagined. He just hoped his mother didn’t embarrass him too much with all her condescending ways. The Apples were good ponies and he really did not want them to be offended.
“All right, it’s time!” A pink unicorn mare wearing black-framed glasses waved the students forward. “Remember to march in time with the music and take your seats!”
Cinnamon Roll faced forward and followed the line of graduates into the Assembly Hall. The sound of “Pomp and Circumstance” filled the air as the students solemnly marched to the beat.
Cinnamon tried to keep her eyes front but she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the bleachers where the graduates’ families were seated. She noticed Spike and Applejack right away. The dragon was wearing his favorite red bow tie and Applejack had on her trademark Stetson. Applespike sat next to them followed by Cinnamon Stick and Dinky. She wished her Aunt Apple Bloom and the other CMCs could be there, but each student was only allowed to invite five guests to the ceremony.
Once the last graduate had taken their seat and the music ended, a black unicorn mare wearing a red robe stood and addressed the assembly.
“Greetings!" she cried in a warm, welcoming voice. "My name is Crème Brulee and I am the Dean of Students here at Canterlot Culinary College. First, I wish to convey my congratulations to our graduates! They are all very talented individuals and I know that you, their families, are very proud of them!”
There was a crash of applause and one loud cry of “Darn tootin’!” which Cinnamon guessed came from Applespike. Crème Brulee patiently waited for the applause to die down before continuing.
“However, I would like to remind you all that this is supposed to be a solemn, dignified ceremony. So, we ask that there be no yelling, stomping, noise makers, or party cannons during the proceedings.”
“Oh, Rats!”
Cinnamon Roll’s eyes went wide. That sounded like Cherry Pie!
“We ask that you hold all applause until all the graduates have received their diplomas. Thank you. Now, I will turn it over to our President, Professor Strudel Kopf.”
An elderly blue unicorn stallion wearing a black robe and tam o’shanter took his place at the podium and began to address the students in a high reedy voice. Cinnamon Roll had to tilt her head a few times to catch what he was saying.
“And…you are…talented… Will go far in… and make…mark on Equestria! Thank….!” He concluded to a round of polite applause.
“Sheesh! That old geezer talks quieter than Aunt Fluttershy.”
Prism! Cinnamon glanced in the direction of the voice but saw nothing there. She turned back just in time to see Crème Brulee return to the podium.
“And now we will ask the graduates to come forward and receive their diplomas. Again, please hold your applause until all the students have received their diplomas. Ahem…Apricot Marmalade…Apron Strings…Batter Splash…”
Cinnamon Roll anxiously followed the line to the raised stage where the Dean and President were standing. The members of the faculty smiled encouragingly as she passed by. Gustave LeGrand nodded to her, tears running down his feathered face. Cinnamon had to look away before she started crying, too. She watched as the President hoofed over the diplomas, personally congratulating each student as they passed.
“Butter Bread…Cannoli Cake…Cinnamon Roll Apple-Dragon…”
Cinnamon crossed the stage with alacrity to accept her diploma from the elderly blue unicorn. Professor Strudel Kopf smiled on her kindly as he hoofed over the scroll.
“Congratulations, my dear,” he murmured. “You earned it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cinnamon quickly exited the stage as the next name was called. She marched demurely to her seat but, really, she was flying! She had done it! She had earned an actual Bachelorette degree and would soon become the Apple family’s first official chef! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!
“Flapjack Skillet…” The little filly came back to earth as the Dean continued reading the names. “Golden Starshine… Griddle Cake… Gulliand LeGrand…”
Cinnamon Roll suppressed a joyous squeal as her fiancé proudly crossed the stage. The griffon gave the President a deep respectful bow as he accepted his diploma.
“Ah! Such a gentlecolt…er…griff!”
Gemstone? Cinnamon glanced around but saw no sign of her childhood friend. Where were those voices coming from?
The ceremony went on. The little filly sat politely, smiling at a few friends as they passed by. She even gave a polite nod to Pearlescent Glow which the pastel unicorn begrudgingly returned. Once the last graduate, an orange unicorn stallion named Yam Bake, returned to his seat Dean Crème Brulee motioned for the students to stand.
“For the last time I will address you as students," she intoned. "Please move your tassel to the other side of your mortarboard.”
There was a wave of movement as the students complied. The Dean smiled.
“Respected guests and family, I present to you this year’s graduating class!”
The bleachers erupted in thunderous applause and cheers. Applejack, Applespike, and Cinnamon Stick stomped their hooves as Spike whistled through his teeth. Dinky reared and shot little sparks from her horn.
BOOM!
Ponies jumped at the sudden explosion but their fear quickly turned to cheer as cupcake scented confetti and balloons rained down on the congregation. The graduates laughed like foals at a birthday party, jumping up to bop the balloons with their hooves. Even the members of the faculty got into the act. Only the Dean was not amused.
“Didn’t I say no party cannons?” she demanded.
Professor Strudel Kopf chuckled as he blew some confetti off the tip of his muzzle.
“Well, dear, they did wait until after the ceremony…”
“Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! You’re all here!”
“Are you kidding?” chirped Cherry Pie. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“Not for a million bits!” cried Raspberry.
“Not for a million bits and a rubber chicken!” added Blueberry.
Cinnamon Roll threw herself into the group of friends gathered in the college garden, hugging each one tightly. Applejack, Spike, Applespike, Cinnamon Stick and Dinky stood to one side, grinning at the excited filly.
"Surprise!" they cried.
“Gemstone! Prism!” Cinnamon Roll squealed.
“Hey, what are we? Chopped liverwort?” cried Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo indignantly. Cinnamon threw her hooves around the beloved CMCs.
“I’m so proud I got to see an Apple graduate from college,” murmured Apple Bloom as she nuzzled her niece’s cheek. “All thanks to Screwball, here.”
“Hey, all I did was make an invisible floating room big enough to hold us all,” the pink chaotic mare demurred. “Luckily the group wasn’t that big or we wouldn’t have fit.”
“We might have had more room if somepony hadn’t insisted on bringing her party cannon!” said Prism, glaring at Cherry. “I’ve still got confetti stuck up by nose.”
“I’m on it,” said Blueberry fishing a small tin from her saddlebag. She opened it and blew the contents into Prism’s face. The rainbow filly huffed and puffed then “AAAACCHHHOOOO! Ewwww! Gross!”
Blueberry cheerfully passed her a tissue. “You’re welcome.”
“Cinnamon Roll! There you are!”
The brown filly turned to see her griffin fiancé still clad in his gown and mortarboard hurrying towards her. “Gulliand!”
The griffin threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground with a flap of his wings.
“We did it, Cherie! We did it!”
“We sure did!” cried Cinnamon as Gulliand joyfully spun them around in the air. He stopped when he heard a worried EEEP! from Applejack. The orange farm pony was looking a little pale.
“S-sorry, ya’ll,” she apologized shakily. “The way you was spinnin’ her around made me worried ya might lose your grip.”
“Oh, Ma, that was nothin’!” the brown Earth filly laughed. “Why, we’ve flown through the streets of Canterlot during a hail storm and…”
“WHAT?”
“Not helping!” cried Spike, hugging his wife.
“I am glad to see you all again,” said Gulliand, quickly changing the subject. He smiled as he pointed a talon at the Tri-Pies. “I’m not surprised to see you three here! When that party cannon went off, I knew one of you had to be responsible.”
“That was Cherry,” explained Raspberry, grinning proudly. “Blue and I just brought our teensy-weensy hoof-held cannons!” She held up a tiny cannon that looked like it belonged in a toy circus.
Pop!
The griffin laughed. “That is so clever! How on earth did you ever--”
“GULLIAND!” a shrill voice called from the other side of the garden. Ponies quickly stepped aside as a trio of griffinesses made their way through the crowd. Two of the hens were small, only slightly bigger than a pony, with white head feathers and light gray fur. The third hen was much taller and obviously older than the other two. Like them, she had white head feathers but her fur was sleek and black as ebony. A pearl-encrusted letter L hung from a silver chain around her neck.
“Gulliand Augustus Legrande!” she cried as she loomed over him imperiously. “What did you think you were doing leaving us behind like that? It was most unseemly!”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” the griffin muttered, wilting under the indignant hen’s gaze.
“Way to go, Dweeb!” one of the young hens muttered behind her.
“Gidget!” snapped the older griffiness, rounding on her sharply. “What have I told you about that word?”
The named hen rolled her eyes. “Only low class, two-bit, scone bakers use such words,” she recited, imitating the older hen's condescending tone.
“Exactly!”
“But it’s not a vulgar word, Mother,” wheedled Gidget. “And it’s so much fun to say!”
“It’s really quite expressive,” agreed the other young hen.
“Quiet! Both of you!” the older griffiness rounded on them both. “Need I remind you that we are in public? Try to show some proper decorum.”
“Yes, Mother,” the girls intoned.
“That’s better.” Calmly she turned back to Gulliand, a thin smile on her beak. “Now, my dear boy, are you going to make introductions or leave me to guess?”
“Ooooo! Oooo! Let her guess!” cried Cherry Pie, raising her hoof. “If she gets it right, she gets a cupcake!”
Gulliand’s sisters looked away, their bodies shaking with suppressed laughter. Gulliand just smiled and shook his head at Cherry. “Perhaps another time,” he said kindly. Sliding his arm around Cinnamon, he drew her closer to his side. “Mother, this is my fiancée, Cinnamon Roll Apple-Dragon. Cinnamon, this is my mother, Guinevere Porter LeGrand.”
“Ah’m pleased to meet ya Ma’am,” said Cinnamon offering her hoof. The griffiness took it gingerly between her thumb and first talon.
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
“And those two delightful hens behind her are my sisters, Gidget and Gigi.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” chorused the girls, dropping into a curtsy.
“Same here,” replied Cinnamon Roll warmly. “Gulliand’s told me a lot about you two.”
“Oh, great!” Gigi huffed. “There went our chance to make a good first impression!”
Prism giggled as she nudged Gemstone. “I like them.”
“Let me introduce you to Cinnamon Roll’s parents,” Gulliand continued, guiding the trio toward the unusual couple. “This is Applejack and Spike Apple-Dragon.”
“How do you do, Ladies,” said Spike, nodding politely. Applejack touched the brim of her hat. “Howdy. Glad to meetcha.”
“This is her older brother Cinnamon Stick and his wife Dinky.”
“Ladies,” the brown stallion nodded tersely. Dinky smiled and tilted her head so one of her off kilter eyes was aimed at the griffinesses. “Hi!”
“And this fellow,” continued Gulliand, waving a claw to the dragon-pony. “Is her little brother Applespike.”
The colt stepped forward and making an elegant bow took the elder griffin’s claw in his hoof. “Ah am pleased to make your acquaintance, Madam,” he said, bringing the claw to his lips.
“Ch-charmed,” stammered Guinevere, fighting the urge to yank her claw away. Gulliand nodded approvingly.
“Nice form,” he murmured.
“Thanks,” said Applespike. “Aunt Rarity’s been helpin’ me practice.”
Gemstone giggled. “He wants to make sure he’s a proper gentlecolt for my sister Jewel. He’s even taken up ballroom dancing!”
“Really? How very interesting,” Guinevere murmured, eyeing the blushing dragon-pony speculatively. Gulliand felt his gut tighten. He knew where his mother’s mind was going. The little unicorn’s manner of speaking marked her as a member of the Canterlot elite. If Applespike, his soon-to-be-brother-in-law, had connections to pony nobility, that would be something his mother would try to exploit.
“And what is your name, my dear?” his mother asked the unicorn sweetly.
“My name is Gemstone, Madam. My father is—”
“Excuse me a moment!” cried Gulliand, tugging at his mother’s elbow. Guinevere irritably shook him off.
“Son, please! You are being rude!” She turned back to Gemstone. “Now, who did you say your father—”
“I-I-I forgot to introduce you to Cinnamon Roll’s aunt,” the griffin cut in desperately. “She’s right over there.” He gestured to where the Cutie Mark Crusaders stood under a nearby tree. “Her name is—"
“APPLE BLOOM!” Gigi and Gidget both screamed at the same time. The hens stood transfixed, their eyes wide and their beaks agape.
“Girls!” their mother snapped. “What have I told you—”
“AND SWEETIE BELLE! AND SCOOTALOO!”
The two hens grabbed each other, grinning and trembling with excitement.
“IT’S THEM! IT’S REALLY THEM!”
Guinevere rolled her eyes and huffed. “Gigi! Gidget! What has gotten into you?”
“IT’S THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS! AAAAAAAAAAAA---!”
There was a flash of magic and a pink bubble-like dome appeared over the fan-crazed hens, blocking out their screams. Guinevere clutched her chest in surprise. “What in Equestria?” she cried. She turned to Gemstone. “Did you do that?”
The white unicorn blushed. “No, madam. That was Screwball. She excels at that kind of magic.”
“Thanks, Gem,” said the chaotic mare, smiling brightly as the griffiness turned to look at her. “Hi, there!”
“H-hello,” Guinevere replied shakily as she took in the pink Earth pony with the lollipop eyes. She had no idea how the mare was performing magic without a horn, but she had no desire to question it right then. “Um…can you release my daughters, please?”
“Sure! I think they’re done screaming anyway.” The draconequess folded her arms over her chest and blinked. The dome vanished revealing Gigi and Gidget still entwined and panting for breath. “Okay, girls,” Screwball addressed them sternly. “I’m letting you out. But if you start that screeching again, I’m gonna put you back in time out. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girls chorused. They looked back to the CMCs who were staring at the griffinesses as if they expected to be torn apart at any moment. The hens blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry about our outburst. We’re just really excited to meet you.”
“Really?” Scootaloo chuckled drily. “I never woulda guessed.”
“I know it sounds crazy,” said Gigi. “I mean griffins listening to pony music, but we do. We really love your songs!”
“Yeah, Gulliand told me,” said Apple Bloom smiling. Cautiously she stepped forward and offered a friendly hoof. “I’m really proud our music is enjoyed by more than just ponies.”
“Oh, Wow!” Gigi and Gidget whimpered in starry-eyed awe as they shook the proffered hoof.
“It’s a real compliment,” added Sweetie Belle, taking their claws as well.
“And it’s really great meeting fans like you,” said Scootaloo, joining her friends. “As long as you don’t freak out on us. That’s kinda scary.”
“Not to mention humiliating,” muttered Guinevere darkly.
If Gigi and Gidget heard their mother, they showed no sign. They stared at the claws that the CMCs had shaken, both of them grinning like idiots. It was obvious that it would be awhile before they washed those claws again.
“Oooooh, Gigi! I-I think I’m gonna faint!”
“Me too, Gidget!”
“Hey, hey, ain't nobody gonna be passin’ out here,” cried Applejack, taking control of the situation. “Now, I know everyone’s all excited right now and we’ve had a lot goin’ on this mornin’. What say we all grab us some lunch while we’re all here in Canterlot?” She looked over at Guinevere. “Whatcha say, Mrs. LeGrand? That all right with you?”
“I wouldn’t mind getting a bite to eat,” the griffiness replied grandly. “I hear Canterlot has several Three Hoof restaurants.”
The Tri-Pies looked at each other in disgust.
“Tissue paper,” muttered Blueberry.
“Cardboard,” murmured Raspberry.
“Tiny portions,” whispered Cherry.
“Ah, Mother,” said Gidget smoothly. “Since it is Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll’s graduation, perhaps they should be the ones the choose the restaurant.”
“Why, yes! Who else but a pair of chefs would know where to find good food?” added Gigi, putting emphasis on the word 'good'.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Spike shrugging. “So, Cinnamon Roll, Gulliand, where do you wanna eat?”
The griffon and filly regarded each other a moment. Huge smiles broke across their faces.
“We know just the place,” said Cinnamon Roll.
“Excellent!” said Guinevere. “Someplace fine, I hope.”
Gulliand grinned. “Believe me. It will definitely be... Tasty.”
The group followed Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll as they led them down Canterlot’s prestigious restaurant row. The buildings were all alike with white fronts, blue doors and wooden signs proudly displaying three golden hooves. A maître-d wearing a sharp black suit stood at attention in front of each one. Guinevere nodded in approval.
“Very nice. Just what you would expect from a fine restaurant in Canterlot.”
“Tissue paper,” whispered Blueberry darkly.
“Cardboard,” murmured Raspberry.
“Little portions,” muttered Cherry.
Gidget and Gigi started to look worried. “Where exactly is this place?” they asked.
“Right this way!” answered Cinnamon, guiding them down a side street away from the pristine white buildings. At the end of the lane was a small building painted a rich, burnt-orange with two tall windows shaped like lanterns. Its blue door was shaped like an onion and above it was a large red and yellow flower with the cheerful picture of an elephant painted on it.
“Here we are!” cried Gulliand. “The Tasty Treat!”
“Whoa!” Applejack murmured. “I’ve heard Rarity talk about this place. She says it’s purty darned good.”
“It certainly smells good,” said Gigi, taking a whiff. “Mmmm! Rich and spicy!”
Everyone took a deep breath, mouths watering at the delicious aroma. Guinevere, however, was unconvinced.
“I thought we were going to some place fine,” she hissed in her son's ear.
“It is fine, Mother,” Gulliand insisted. “The Tasty Treat serves some of the best tasting food in Canterlot.”
“But there is no hoof rating!” she whispered frantically. “I couldn’t be seen setting paw in a restaurant without a hoof rating!”
“Tell her to wait outside, then,” muttered Prism. Gigi and Gidget, who were standing nearby, choked down a laugh.
“The hoof rating doesn’t matter, Mrs. LeGrand,” Cinnamon Roll assured her. “Believe me, we’ve tried those restaurants. All their food tastes the same. The Tasty Treat serves delicious food and plenty of it.”
“You had me at ‘plenty’,” said Cinnamon Stick, licking his lips.
Guinevere rubbed her claws together nervously. “I-I just don’t know…” Gulliand rolled his eyes.
“It’s cheaper,” he deadpanned.
"Oh!" The griffinness perked up at that. “Well, in that case I suppose I could give it a try.”
Gulliand sighed. “I knew you’d see reason.”
“Wow!” The group breathed as they stepped inside the restaurant. The place was small but the inside was bright and festive with decorations from lands they had only heard of in stories. Colorful silks hung in swags from the rafters. Festive lanterns hung invitingly over the tables. Floral and paisley patterns decorated the walls.
“Hello! Welcome to the Tasty Treat!” a young amber colt with a short raspberry-colored mane greeted them cheerfully. “The most exotic cuisine in Canterlot! How may I serve you?”
“Hey, Tamarind,” said Cinnamon Roll giving the colt an affectionate hug. “You filling in for your Grandfather today?”
“Sure am!” he replied throwing out his chest proudly. “Dada is in the kitchen covering for Mother until she returns from the graduation ceremony. She should be back any minute. Are you here to eat or visit?”
“Eat, definitely!”
“Okay!” Tamarind grabbed some menus and tried to look professional. “How many are in your party?” he asked.
“Ummmm…” Gulliand did a quick headcount. “Looks like…nineteen.”
“NINETEEN!” Tamarind’s eyes went wide as he took in the number of ponies, griffins and dragons standing behind Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll. A big grin spread across his face and he wriggled in excitement. “This is wonderful! Dada’s been worried because it’s been slow today. Wait till I tell him!”
“Whoa! Hold on!” Gulliand grabbed the colt by his tail before he could bolt away. “Could you do that after you seat us?”
“Oops!” Tamarind blushed. “Of course! Right this way.”
He led them to a group of tables with cushy soft seats near the wall. Spike, Gulliand, and Cinnamon Stick pushed the tables together so they formed one long board where they could all eat together. The adults, Applejack, Spike, Guinevere, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders took their places at one end. Screwball, Cinnamon Stick, Dinky, Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll sat near the middle. Gemstone, Prism, Gidget, Gigi, and the Tri-Pies claimed the other end with Applespike sitting at the very end.
“Kinda like sittin’ at the kiddie table during family reunions,” the dragon-colt muttered. “At least I don’t need a booster chair.”
Tamarind quickly passed out the menus. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked.
Guinevere asked for tea and Screwball took chocolate milk. Everyone else ordered water.
“Isn’t it a bit unprofessional,” asked Guinevere once the colt had disappeared into the kitchen. “To have a child wait the tables?”
“This is a family run business, Mother,” said Gulliand. “Tamarind has been working here since he was old enough to stand on a crate to wash dishes. Helping in the front is big deal to him.”
“Aw!” said Apple Bloom smiling. “We’ll be sure to tip him good, then.”
Only Gulliand and his sisters noticed the way their mother winced at that suggestion.
“Here you are!” cried Tamarind, returning with their drinks in his aura. He placed each one carefully before each member of the party, taking particular care not to spill Guinevere’s tea. “And here are some appetizers courtesy of the chef!” Three platters were levitated to the table. “This is called Paneer Kulcha. It is naan bread stuffed with Marwarian cottage cheese and spices!”
“Sure looks good,” said Applejack, taking a tentative bite. Cinnamon Roll watched, grinning as her mother’s face began to shine in delight. “Whoo! Spicy but it’s purty darned tasty!”
Everyone took a bite of the cheesy naan. Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll nodded in satisfaction as their friends and families exclaimed over the taste.
“This is good stuff,” said Gidget with her beak full.
Guinevere sighed in exasperation. “Gidget, do not talk with your mouth full.”
“Yeah,” said Prism grinning mischievously. “No pony likes see food.”
Gidget looked questioningly at the rainbow-colored filly. “What do mean by seafood?”
Prism opened her mouth, showing the half-masticated bread on her tongue. “See? Food!”
“Eww! Prism, really!” Gemstone shuddered.
The griffinnesses just giggled. “Oh, that was great!”
“I spoke with Professor Saffron about making something similar to this when we get to Griffonstone.” said Gulliand, holding up a piece of the stuffed bread. “I’m thinking of adding shredded chicken breast to the recipe.”
All the ponies with the exception of Cinnamon Roll shuddered. Gigi and Gidget just grinned dreamily. “Oooo! You had us at chicken.”
“Are you ready to order, now?” asked Tamarind eagerly. After one last perusal, and suggestions from Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll, the group made their choices. To Spike’s surprise, the menu also included gemstone infused dishes.
“Mama came up with those after the Dragon Lord visited Canterlot last year,” Tamarind informed him proudly. “She said we were the only restaurant whose gems didn’t taste like cardboard.”
“Ugh!” said Spike, wrinkling his snout. “I don’t think I wanna know how they made gems taste bland.”
“The dragon diplomats order meals from here all the time, sir.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me!” said the dragon handing his menu back to Tamarind. “I’ll take the Ruby Marsala.”
“Ooo! And I want the Sapphire Jalfrezi!” added Applespike. “Extra spice!”
The little colt happily wrote down their orders. The three young griffins rolled their eyes as their mother ordered the cheapest thing on the menu.
“Good thing we brought our own bits!” muttered Gigi, pulling out her purse. She and her sister ordered a Paneer Bhurji apiece. Tamarind grinned as he finished writing the last order.
“Okay, I’ll take this to Dada. Your food should be ready in just a few minutes!” With that, he turned and practically strutted all the way to the kitchen.
While they waited for their dinner, the families carried on a lively conversation. Having learned the Apples were not just farmers but business ponies who owned their own land, Guinevere was very interested in their prospects. The CMCs talked about life on the road and in the studio. Gigi and Gidget listened to them in wide-eyed wonder. Eventually, they turned their attention to Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand.
“I have to ask how did your family take it when you announced your engagement?” asked Gidget.
Cinnamon Roll glanced at her parents and blushed. “Pretty well,” she said shrugging. “They were…surprised to say the least.”
“Cinnamon’s great-grandmother, Granny Smith, liked me especially,” put in Gulliand. “She liked how I chopped vegetables. And after dinner, I was invited to spend the night.”
“Reeeeeeeeally?” said Gidget giving her brother a knowing leer. Gulliand playfully popped her beak with his napkin.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I slept in the barn.”
“WHAT?” cried Guinevere, who had been listening in on the conversation. “Surely, you’re joking!”
“It’s no joke,” replied Gulliand, grinning. “I slept in the barn.”
“It’s true, he did,” said Spike, helping himself to another bite of stuffed naan. “We just gave him a cot and a blanket and stuck him out there.”
Guinevere’s beak dropped open in shock. The ponies all glanced knowingly at each other and tried not to snicker too loudly. Cinnamon Roll rolled her eyes and gave her fiancé a playful shove.
“Just so you know, our barn is clean with a good wooden floor and no animals,” she assured Guinevere. “Ma and Pa would have let him stay in the house but with Aunt Apple Bloom home and Zany spendin’ the night there just wasn’t enough space.”
“And I wasn’t alone out there,” added Gulliand. “Mr. Spike stayed out there with me.”
“Oh, ho!” Gidget leered again. “Dear old Dad didn’t trust you, eh?”
Spike chuckled. “Actually, it was Zany I didn’t trust. Not after what happened after the Gala last year.” He aimed a knowing look at Applespike who blushed crimson. “I even asked Twilight to put an anti-teleportation spell on the barn before she left that night.”
“You were wise to do so,” Gulliand nodded. He turned to the group. “We were awakened around two o’clock by a loud thud. It was as if something heavy had slammed into the side of the barn. We heard someone moaning in pain but they disappeared when Mr. Spike opened the door.”
Applespike grunted. “Should have dug a tunnel like I said.”
“Who is Zany?” asked Gigi. “Is he a unicorn?”
Screwball giggled. “No, sweetheart. Zany is my little brother. He has magic like mine and he’s a bit of a prankster.”
The girls regarded Screwball curiously, tilting their heads like a pair of puzzled parrots. “But how? You’re just an Earth pony…even though you have some unusual looking eyes.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Screwy replied with an unsettling grin. “Our mom is a pony, a Pegasus. Our dad is Discord the draconequess.” The girls gasped in unison. “I take it you’ve heard of him.”
“Yes!” breathed Gigi, staring at Screwball as if she expected the mare to turn them into frogs at any moment. “The last time he went on a rampage he made the griffins sit in cages like parakeets and sing for their supper!”
Screwy nodded. “That does sound like something Dad would have done.”
“He even made Grandpa Gruff talk like a parrot and eat crackers,” added Gidget. She gave a snicker. “He still squawks like one sometimes.”
“WHAAAAAT!” Gigi, Gidget, and Gulliand squawked in unison.
“Girls! Gulliand!” cried Guinevere severely. “Do you not know how to behave in public?”
“Yes, mother,” the three droned in unison.
“I got a question,” said Prism suddenly. “How come Gulliand talks with that Prench accent and the rest of you don’t?”
“I noticed that, too,” said Gemstone. “You all sound like members of the Canterlot elite.”
“That is because the LeGrands are a very high-class family,” said Guinevere, holding her head regally. “Their ancestors were the first diplomats to Equestria after the war. They were very taken with the charming culture of the Canterlot elite. So much so that they adopted their manners and mode of speech. I have tried to instruct my daughters in these ways,” she added, giving the girls a sour look. “But it appears to be a losing battle.”
“You had us practicing how to laugh like a proper aristocrat!” Gidget deadpanned. "Do you realize how embarrassing that was?" She waved a napkin before her face and tittered in an exaggerated way. “Oh, how droll! Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha!”
Gemstone fell out laughing. “HA-HA-HA! You sound just like my great aunt!”
“Anyway,” Guinevere continued. “My brother-in-law Gustave broke with tradition when he decided to move to Prance and become a pastry chef. Many family members, my husband included, looked down on him for it. When he became rich and famous, they quickly changed their tune.”
“Thanks to him, I also was able to go to Prance and study to become a chef,” said Gulliand with a sigh. “I love the Prench language and customs. The ponies there are so expressive and passionate and the language sounds so beautiful. Listen to this!” He cast a mischievous glance at the Tri-Pies. “J'ai besoin d'alles aux toilettes,” he informed them sweetly.
“Whoa,” whispered Blueberry, clearly impressed.
“That is beautiful,” added Raspberry.
“Oui! Oui!” agreed Cherry.
“Exactly,” Gulliand smirked.
“Is your husband still around, Miss Guinevere?” asked Apple Bloom curiously. “I mean, you’re not a widow, are you?”
“Indeed not!” The griffinness puffed out her feathers proudly. “My husband is very much alive and well. He has served as an ambassador to Yakyakistan for many years. He was instrumental in preventing the famous Bull Pass Territorial dispute from becoming an all-out war!”
“Wow!” Apple Bloom murmured. Gulliand and his sisters, having heard the story all their life, quietly rolled their eyes. Guinevere continued.
“Just recently he was made a senior ambassador to the Changeling Lands! He is one of the few diplomats allowed tp converse directly with Queen Bellatrix. It is a great honor.”
Screwball nodded. “It sure is! Trixie can sense false emotions and it makes her really leery. Your husband must be very honest to gain her trust like that.”
Guinevere blushed and looked away uncomfortably. Any further talk was interrupted by the arrival of Tamarind bearing two enormous trays in his aura.
“Here you are!” he called cheerfully. “Bon appe…WHOA!” The overloaded trays tipped dangerously. A quick flash of magic from Screwball froze everything in place..
“I like chaos as much as the next draconequess,” she chuckled. “But not at the cost of losing my lunch!”
“Thank you, adar madame,” Tamarind bowed then quickly set out the dishes before the creatures. He was very efficient and was able to match the orders to the correct customer without having to ask. The group dug into their food with relish. Spike and Applespike crunched away at their gem encrusted meals, rolling up their eyes in absolute bliss. Gidget and Gigi sighed in delight as they tasted their Paneer. “Mmmm! This is so good!”
“It really is,” agreed Dinky who had ordered a savory stew with rice. “I’m really glad you guys brought us here.”
“Even though there were no muffins on the menu?” Cinnamon Stick teased.
Dinky sniffed. “Pony shall not live by muffins alone,” she replied primly.
“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” said Cinnamon Stick, giving his wife a nuzzle. “But you are right. This food is delicious!”
“MmmHmm!”
Tamarind smiled at the compliments. “I’m glad you like it. Dada tends to get nervous when Mom isn’t here to help him. I’ll let him know he did a good job.”
“He is such a sweet colt,” said Applejack as Tamarind trotted to the kitchen. “Reminds me of how I used to be when I was little.” She turned to Cinnamon Roll. “Does his Pa work here, too?” she asked.
Cinnamon Roll shook her head. “His Pa works at the First Bank of Equestria as an investment banker. We’ve met him. He’s a really nice fella. Loves Saffron and Tamarind to death but he can’t cook to save his life so he sticks to banking.”
“Kinda like your Pa and apple buckin’,” said Applejack, giving her husband a mischievous look. “He couldn’t buck a tree to save his life.”
“Hey, I solved that problem when I started using my tail instead of my legs,” Spike shot back, giving Applejack a playful nudge. “It’s not like that time you tried to help Rarity harvest gems…”
“The ceiling was weak from all the rain we had gotten! It had nothin’ to do with that great big, giant blue gem I yanked outta the wall,” Applejack huffed, popping him with her napkin.
The argument ended with the dragon and pony playfully swatting each other before dissolving into laughter. Gigi and Gidget watched them curiously.
“Are they always like that?” Gigi whispered to Cinnamon Roll.
“Yeah,” the brown filly chuckled. “They tease each other like that all the time. They’re just playin’. They don’t mean anything by it.”
The girls looked at the jolly couple then at their mother who appeared to have sunk into herself intently eating her food. Gigi sighed.
“It must be nice.”
“Are you still planning on leaving tomorrow, darling?” asked Gemstone, looking at Cinnamon Roll. “We brought a few graduation gifts that we thought you might need in Griffonstone.”
“Oh! Thank you! Yes, we are planning to leave on the dirigible first thing in the morning. We have everything packed and ready to go.”
“You’re really sure about this?” asked Prism earnestly. “It’s just that, well, Mom is…” She glanced anxiously at Gigi and Gidget before leaning in to whisper. “Mom is really, really worried about you and what might happen in Griffonstone. Are you sure you’re making the right choice?”
Cinnamon Roll laid a comforting hoof on Prism’s arm. “I’ve never been so sure of somethin’ in my life,” she said firmly. “I love Gulliand and I trust him. I know he would never break my heart.”
Gulliand lovingly slid his arm across her brown shoulders and gently pulled her to his chest.
The sun had just peeked over the horizon when the dirigible Golden Talon started on-boarding its passengers. The ship was the star of the Griffon air-ship fleet. It had three decks, the lowest one serving as a launching and landing strip for Pegasi and Griffins who wished to stretch their wings. Luxurious cabins and private berths for day-trippers made up the middle deck while an enormous dining hall that served both meat and vegetarian dishes was located on the top deck. Most of the passengers were Unicorns just out for a floating tour of Equestria and its borders. Some were Pegasi heading to the mountains of Yakyakistan for some extreme skiing. For one little brown Earth filly it was the trip of a lifetime.
“Bye, Sugarcube!” Applejack hugged Cinnamon Roll tightly as a thin line of tears ran down her face. “We’re gonna miss you somethin’ fierce!”
“I’ll miss ya’ll, too,” the filly whispered, wiping her own eyes.
“Bye, baby girl,” Spike murmured hoarsely as he joined the hug. He glanced over at Gulliand who stood nearby. “You take good care of her now, you hear?”
“Yes, sir. I will,” the griffin promised.
“Bye, Sis,” said Cinnamon Stick gruffly. His mouth wobbled slightly. “Take care of yourself.”
Dinky hugged her neck. “You and Gulliand will do great. I just know it!”
Apple Bloom and the other CMCs hugged and kissed her cheeks. “Take care, now. And don’t forget to write.”
Prism, the Tri-Pies, and Gemstone piled in for a ginormous hug.
Cinnamon Roll rolled her eyes and made the motions. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. I will NEVER forget you girls! And thank you all for the gifts! They are amazing!”
“And heavy,” a Pegasus porter grunted as he dragged Cinnamon and Gulliand’s bags to the luggage trailer. “Sheesh! Sweet Mother of Celestia, what you packin’, iron skillets?”
“Yes, actually,” said Gulliand stepping over to help. He picked up the heavy bags with one claw and laid them neatly on the trailer. “Three cast iron skillets, two cast iron cornbread molds, four stainless steel mixing bowls, and one iron pot for cooking gumbo.”
“That one was from Mom,” said Blueberry. “She loved your gumbo.”
“It was the best she’d ever tasted,” attested Raspberry.
“You are the Gumbo Griffin!” squealed Cherry.
Gulliand blushed as his sisters snickered behind him.
“All aboard!” the conductor called. “The Golden Talon will be leaving port in five minutes!”
“Goodbye, everyone,” cried Cinnamon Roll turning towards the gangplank. “I love you all!”
“WAIT!”
Cinnamon felt someone grab her back legs. She looked back and found Applespike, his front hooves wrapped tightly around her knees, tears pouring down his face.
“Don’t go!” he wailed. “I don’t want ya to go! Pa, please make her staaaaaaaaaay!”
Cinnamon swallowed a lump in her throat as tears spilled from her eyes. Spike stepped forward and gently pried his youngest son away. In spite of his being sixteen and nearly grown, Applespike clung to his father like a foal, sobbing into his shoulder.
“Come on, Cherie,” Gulliand murmured in Cinnamon’s ear. Nodding, the brown filly quickly walked up the gangplank onto the ship. A few moments later, the magically propelled engines buzzed to life and the enormous airship lifted into the air. Cinnamon Roll ran to the railing watching the dizzying sight of the earth quickly dropping away. A unicorn mare standing next to her screamed in fear, but the little Earth filly was not affected. Years of flying on a griffin’s back had taken away her fear of heights.
“Are you all right?” asked Gulliand, sidling up beside her.
“Yeah,” said Cinnamon leaning her head into his feathery neck. “I’m sad about leavin’ my friends and folks but I’m excited to be goin’ to Griffinstone!”
Gulliand lifted her head with a talon. “So am I, Cherie,” he whispered softly before claiming her mouth in a tender kiss.
Gidget and Gigi cocked their heads like a pair of curious parrots, watching as their brother made out with his fillyfriend.
“I don’t know how they do it,” muttered Gigi. “She doesn’t have a beak. Hey! Get a berth you two!” she yelled at the couple.
Gulliand didn’t break the kiss though he did make a rude gesture with his middle talon.
“You better be glad Mother’s not here,” said Gidget walking over to slap her brother’s shoulder. “I can hear he now: ‘Only low-class griffins make vulgar gestures like that!’”
“Where is your mother?” asked Cinnamon Roll. “I haven’t seen her since we got on board.”
“Resting,” replied Gigi with a shrug. “She rented a private berth for the trip so she could take a nap.”
“Really?” Gulliand’s golden eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t believe Mother actually paid extra for a private berth!”
“We couldn’t either,” Gidget agreed with a snicker. “Until we found out private berths come with certain... amenities.”
“Amenities?”
“Oh, you know: comfy blanket, pillows, drinks, snacks…private massage…”
“WHOA! WHAT?” Gulliand cried.
“Oh, yes! A private masseuse is part of the package. I hear he’s he’s in high demand among the…winged kind.” Said Gidget, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Gulliand screwed up his face in disgust as he tried to block that image. “EWW!” He shook out his claws as if he had stepped in something foul. “Just... EWW!”
“Well,” said Cinnamon, trying to save the situation. “At least your Mother is enjoying herself.”
“Yeah,” said Gigi. “And we don’t have to worry about her bothering us for the rest of the trip. Let’s enjoy ourselves for a while!”
“Sounds good to me,” put in Gidget. “What do you want to do?”
“How about we take a flight over the plain?” asked Gulliand. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to really stretch my wings.”
“That sounds good to me,” said Gigi brightly. Suddenly her face fell. “Oh, I forgot. Cinnamon Roll can’t fly.”
“That is alright. I can carry her on my back.” Gulliand knelt in front of his fiancée.
“That’s alright,” said Cinnamon shaking her head. “You three go on ahead. I’ll be all right here.”
“Are you sure?” asked Gulliand. "I would hate to leave you all alone."
“Yes, Sweetheart,” said Cinnamon giving the griffin a peck on the end of his beak. “You haven’t seen your sisters in a long time. Go spend some time with them. I’ll just stay here and explore the ship. I've been meaning to talk to the chefs here anyway. ”
“Thank you, Cherie,” he murmured, giving her a nuzzle.
The three griffins ran to the launching pad.
“Your fiancée is really nice,” said Gigi smiling.
“Yeah,” Gidget agreed. “I really like her.”
“Thank you.”
At a signal from a Pegasus traffic controller, the three leaped from the launch pad. The griffins allowed themselves to drop several feet before unfurling their massive wings and soaring up into sky. They circled the ship, waving to Cinnamon as they passed, before darting ahead of the blimp’s planned flight path. There were a few Pegasi and a couple of griffins out but everyone kept their distance. Gulliand sighed in delight.
“Sacre Bleu Cheese!” he exclaimed. “It feels wonderful to be able to fly free!”
“I thought you had plenty of chances to fly in Canterlot,” said Gigi. “Especially with it sitting on the side of a mountain.”
Gulliand shook his head. “Too much traffic in Canterlot. Always worried I might hit a Pegasus or worse, one of the castle’s swans out for a fly. The sky over the valley wasn’t bad but you still had a lot of traffic.”
He soared straight up then hovered in midair before allowing himself to drop from the sky. “Wheeeeeeeeee!”
The sisters followed behind, shaking their heads at their older brother’s antics. After a while the three found themselves flying in an easy formation, gliding on the thermals with just a little flap to keep up their momentum. Gulliand glanced at his sisters, one on each side of him.
“So,” he said conversationally. “Father’s in the Changeling Lands now.”
“Yeah,” said Gigi simply.
“Any idea why he was transferred?”
Gigi winced. “Not really,” she admitted. “But word is a certain Yakyakistani official requested that he be removed and placed… somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?”
Gidget chuckled darkly. “I believe he suggested... Tartarus.”
“Ugh! Not again!” Gulliand groaned. “Let me guess, this yak caught Father nesting with his wife or daughter. UGH! You would have thought he’d learned his lesson after that affair in Abyssinia.”
“I know!” cried Gigi. “The doctor still claims that was the worst case of Cat Scratch Fever he’d ever seen.”
Gidget smirked. “He’s lucky that Yak just got him expelled. Otherwise the last words he’d have heard was ‘YAK SMASH!’”
The girls giggled derisively, but Gulliand shook his head in disgust. Their father was a skilled diplomat, but his philandering ways had made him a source of embarrassment. Their mother, acting as a good diplomat’s wife, pretended to turn a blind eye to his exploits, but her children knew his betrayal cut her deeply.
“Well,” he said bitterly. “I suppose that explains why he did not come for the graduation. I thought he stayed away because of my engagement to Cinnamon Roll.”
Gigi looked away guiltily. “Um…Yeah…about that….”
Gulliand looked at her sharply. “What?”
“He…well…he…doesn’t know about it.”
“WHAT?”
“You better sit down for this,” said Gidget guiding them to a large cloud. As the three settled down, Gulliand turned so he faced both sisters squarely.
“All right, you two, start talking,” he growled. “What do you mean by Father doesn’t know?”
“Well, Father returned from Yakyakistan about a week before your letter arrived,” said Gigi rubbing her claws together nervously. “He was really angry about being asked to leave.”
“Even though he deserved it,” huffed Gidget, angrily.
“We were walking on eggshells the whole time he was home,” Gigi continued. “Mother especially. You know how mean he treats her when he’s angry.”
“I do,” Gulliand growled, clenching his fists. While their father never laid a claw on his wife, that didn't stop him from making fun of her and insulting her to her face. “So…what happened then?”
Gigi shrugged. “A few days later, the Consulate sent word that Father was to be transferred to the Changeling Lands. The former head ambassador there had decided to retire so they sent Father to replace him. Your letter arrived just after he left.”
“And Mother hasn’t written to him, I see,” sighed Gulliand. He flopped on his back and stared up at the sky. “Sacre Bleu Cheese, what a mess! I’m guessing if Father doesn’t know then Grandmother LeGrande is also in the dark!”
“Of course, she is,” snorted Gidget. “You know she and Mother are not on speaking terms. Not since Mother lost her temper and called Grammy an old buzzard.”
Gulliand closed his eyes and pressed his talons against the bridge of his beak. “So, Grandmother is letting me have this property to build my restaurant and she doesn’t know that I am marrying a pony? I was hoping we were already past this point. UGH!”
“Look on the bright side,” chirped Gidget. “You’re both great chefs. I’ll bet if you and Cinnamon Roll do really well with that restaurant and make a lot of bits, Grandmother won’t mind a little pony in the gene pool.”
“I hope so,” sighed Gulliand. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
The three siblings lay on the cloud in peaceful silence, feeling the warmth of the morning sun soaking into their feathers. In the distance the dirigible droned on, the sound of its whirring engine like a soft hum.
“I wonder how Father likes it in the Changeling Lands,” Gigi mused after a while. “I’ll bet it’s not as extreme as Yakyakistan.”
Gidget grunted. “He’s probably nesting with the Queen right now,” she growled.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” replied Gulliand, chuckling darkly. “I happen to know that Queen Bellatrix is happily married.”
“So?” snorted Gidget. “That never stopped Father before.”
“This might,” Gulliand let a malicious grin crawl across his beak. “Her husband is a Minotaur.”
“WHAT?” Both girls sat up on the cloud and stared down at their brother. “Queen Bellatrix of the Changelings is married to a Minotaur?
Gulliand nodded smugly.
“You’re lying!”
Gulliand shook his head.
“Well…why haven’t we heard about it?” demanded Gigi. “A royal marriage is a big deal.”
Gulliand shrugged. “The groom did not belong to a royal family so there were no big announcements made. And the ceremony was a private affair held at the hive with few outsiders in attendance.”
"Really," Gidget narrowed her eyes at her brother. “And you know this…how?”
“Well, remember that pink pony with the lollipop eyes from dinner yesterday?”
“You mean Discord’s kid? Yeah, so?”
Gulliand paused before dropping his bombshell.
“Queen Bellatrix is her sister-in-law.”
His sisters gasped in unison.
“Get outta here!” yelled Gidget, giving her brother a hard shove.
“It’s the truth!” Gulliand laughed as he fended off his irate sister. “I’ve met her husband. He’s an actual Changeling Prince. He was supposed to succeed his mother Chrysalis to the throne, but he abdicated in favor of his sister Bellatrix so he could be with the mare he loved.”
“Wow,” Gigi murmured. “That sounds like the story of that Bitian King Deadwood and his wife Wallflower!”
“If it’s true, Father will be in a real bind” snorted Gidget, “I’ve heard Minotaurs are very temperamental and very protective of their families.”
The three settled back down on the cloud, each imaging (and enjoying) the idea of their father getting his just deserts from a Minotaur. After a moment, Gulliand broke the silence.
"Have either of you seen the property Grandmother LeGrande is giving me?" he asked. "Mother just said it was near the market place."
"Yeah, we've seen it," said Gidget. "It's pretty big. Used to belong to a wealthy merchant who died without an heir. Don't know what it looks like on the inside, but it does need a new roof and most of the windows replaced."
"That shouldn't be a problem," said Gulliand with a shrug. "I've got the bits to fix it up and Cinnamon Roll knows all about tools from working on the farm. Until then, we'll be living at the mansion with you."
Evening was quickly approaching when the great stone tower that marked the Griffinstone airport came into view. The huge monolith sat on a small mountain about five miles from the city and the turbulent winds of the Abysmal Abyss. The pale gray stone glowed a rosy red in the dying light. Gulliand leaned against the rail with his sisters staring at the amazing sight.
“Wow!”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” asked Gigi. “Hard to believe it was just built last year. It’s one of the tallest free-standing monuments on the continent. They say it represents the strength and durability of the Griffon race!”
“Either that or the architect was compensating for something,” Gidget snarked.
“Gidget!” The offending griffoness winced as their mother suddenly appeared next to them at the rail. “Do not talk so vulgar!” snapped Guinevere. “Remember who you are.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gidget grumbled.
Gulliand looked his mother over. Despite her rebuke to Gidget, she seemed to be more relaxed and, dare he say, happier than he had seen her in the last few days. Her stern face seemed almost placid and her feathers were no longer ruffled but lying smoothly on her neck.
“You’re looking very well, Mother,” he commented. “I take it you enjoyed your… nap.”
Guinevere blushed a rosy red. “Thank you, dear. Yes, I…um…did enjoy myself. I’m assuming the girls told you about the certain amenities that come with booking a private berth,” she added accusingly.
“They did,” Gulliand nodded. “And I think it was worth the extra expense to see you looking so rejuvenated.”
The older griffoness beamed gratefully at her son. “Thank you, dear. Now, we need to get ready to disembark. Do we have everything?”
“Everything we carried on board ourselves,” answered Gigi, indicating their saddle bags. “The rest is in the cargo hold.”
“Excellent! Now…uh…Wait a moment,” Guinevere paused and craned her neck to look around. “Where is Cinnamon Roll?”
Gidget rolled her eyes. “The same place she’s been this whole trip,” she groused. “Talking to the chefs in the kitchen.”
“She said something about asking them for some soup recipe,” explained Gigi.
“Ah, yes! The avgolemono!” cried Gulliand excitedly. “That would be an amazing addition to our menu…!” He wilted slightly as the girls shot him a deadpan look. “Right. I’ll go fetch her.”
He turned tail and ran into the big dining room then straight to the swinging metal door in the back. As he burst into the kitchen, he heard a pair of gruff, heavily accented male voices arguing.
“Here, try this! I promise you will love it!”
“Ochi! Try this! It is much better!”
“I will have you know that my spanakopita is among the best there is!” declared the first voice proudly. “Just smell that delicious aroma!”
“Mmmmmm!” said a filly’s voice. “It does smell good.”
“Humph!” grunted the second male voice. “It is nothing compared to my cheesy pastitsio! Have a taste, koukla,” he added in an encouraging tone.
Gulliand followed the voices to the rear of the kitchen where he found Cinnamon Roll sitting at a small table flanked by two chefs. The one on her right was a short round stallion with a thick black moustache, curly black mane and a cutie mark of a piece of baklava. The one on her left was an equally short, fat griffin with blue feathers and snow-white fur. Both wore torques, white aprons and matching looks of indignation.
“That better not be the pastitsio with the meat!” yelled the stallion.
“Oh, please!” sneered the griffon. “As if I would ever feed meat to an herbivore.”
The stallion snorted. “You think lamb is a vegetable!”
Cinnamon Roll was completely unfazed by the arguing chefs. “Mmmmm! They both smell divine,” she murmured. She took a bite of the spanakopita, chewing slowly to relish the sharp and buttery flavor.
“Ooooo! That is delicious. Great balance of spinach and cheese.”
“Efharisto!” said the stallion, smirking.
The filly bit into the cheese pastitsio.
“Oh, my goodness! This is great, too. What a wonderful blend of cheeses.”
“Thank you,” said the griffon with a bow.
Gulliand chuckled at the scene. “I see you are having fun, Cherie,” he said.
“Hey, Sugarcube!” she cried, pulling him in for a quick kiss on the beak. If either chef found the sight strange, neither commented on it. “I’m glad you’re here. Let me introduce you to my new friends! This is Phyllo Dough,” she said pointing to the stallion. “And this is Greco,” she pointed to the griffin. “They’re both from the Mareterranian. Fellas, this is my partner and fiancé Gulliand LeGrand.”
“How do you do?” the young griffin bowed.
“Kala, efharisto,” said Phyllo Dough curtly, looking Gulliand over with a critical eye. “When this little kore said she was engaged to a griffon, I was much concerned. You see what I have to put up with,” he motioned to the frowning blue griffon. “Seeing you, however, I suppose you are…what is the word…respectable.”
“Thank you for your seal of approval,” Gulliand replied drily.
“So…you’re a LeGrand, eh?” said Greco with a smirk. “Any relation to Gustave LeGrand, the great éclair maker?”
“Yes, sir. He is my uncle.”
The pudgy griffin puffed out his chest feathers. “Well, next time you see him, tell him that I, the great Greco Macro, am coming to give him a run for his bits! I’m sure Equestrians will love my delicious loukoumades!”
“Honey puffs!” snorted Phyllo. “Carnival fare! It cannot touch the magnificence of my baklava!”
“Just because there is a picture of it on your flank does not mean you can make it better than me!” snarled the griffin.
“We shall see!” growled Phyllo.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Gulliand cut in before the two could head off to fetch their confections. “I hate to interrupt your little competition but Cinnamon Roll has to go. We will be disembarking at Griffonstone in a few minutes.”
“Oh!” Both chefs deflated at the news. Suddenly they perked back up.
“We can’t let you go without a little something to tide you over!” cried Greco, grabbing some to-go boxes.
“Neh!” cried Phyllo. “One moment! This won’t take long!”
The chefs worked together hastily filling the boxes with whatever food they could stuff into them. Spanakopita, moussaka, rice pilaf, pastitsio, baklava, and several sealed bowls of soup were placed in a large paper bag. Phyllo hoofed it to Cinnamon Roll.
“I hope it’s enough,” he fretted.
“It’s fine,” Cinnamon Roll assured him. “You’re both mighty generous—”
“WAIT!” Greco scurried up and placed one last box in the sack. The savory smell of grilled pork wafted through the air. “Souvlaki! For your fiancé!”
“Thank you both so much.”
“Parakalo!”
Gulliand guided Cinnamon Roll out of the kitchen and onto the portside deck where his family along with twelve other griffons were waiting. Like her fiance, the little filly was struck by the sight of the giant tower. She stared as it loomed gray and forbidding over the ship. She pressed against Gulliand, and was relieved to feel a warm, comforting wing engulf her. Feeling reassured, Cinnamon glanced over the rail at the landing field not far below. A crew of brawny griffons were grabbing the ship’s ropes and securing them to the dock. They bellowed, screeched, and used language that (had Granny Smith been around) would have gotten their beaks washed out with soap. Guinevere turned up her beak in disgust.
“Dock workers,” she muttered derisively.
Gidget took a quick peek over the side before imitating her mother’s stance.
“Whew! Those guys are ripped!” she whispered.
Once the ship was docked and the gangplank secured, the call went out. “All ashore that’s going ashore!”
The griffons marched down the ramp with Cinnamon Roll sticking close to Gulliand’s side. Some of the dock workers stared at her, pointing and muttering amongst themselves.
“Is that an Earth pony?” one muttered.
“Looks like it,” replied another.
“What does she think she’s doin’ in Griffonstone?”
“Can’t fly, that’s for sure,” a third griffon sneered.
Another wolf whistled. “Nice flank, though.”
Gulliand glared daggers at the leering ground crew, his feathers bristling.
“Merde!” he spat.
“Come along, Gulliand!” Guinevere snapped before anyone could say anything. “You need to pick up your bags from the baggage claim. The girls will show you where it is. I’ll see if I can hire a porter to carry your things to the house. Move along,” she prodded when he hesitated. “We haven’t got all night!”
“This way, bro,” said Gigi leading them to an open space near the ship’s stern where the luggage was being off-loaded. There was no neat little carousel like there was at the Canterlot air docks. The luggage had been carelessly tossed into a pile on the stone ground. Luckily the pile was not very big and it didn’t take them long to find their bags. It also didn’t hurt that theirs were the only ones with apple-shaped name tags.
“I think this is all of it,” panted Cinnamon Roll, counting the bags. Aside from the two bags containing their cast iron gifts, there were four others that held their linens, blankets, pillows, utensils, and collection of cookbooks. “Now what?”
“We wait here for mother,” replied Gidget with a shrug. “There weren’t many creatures getting off here so she shouldn’t have any trouble finding us a porter.”
“But why do we need a porter?” asked Cinnamon Roll. “Guilland and I carried all this stuff to the docks by ourselves. We could carry it to the house, no problem.”
“Yeah, but the airport is five miles outside the city,” Gigi answered. “And that’s as the griffon flies. I don’t know how far it would be if you carried that stuff down the mountain, across the valley, then back up to Griffonstone.”
“Good point,” said Cinnamon Roll. “And I guess the bags are too heavy for ya’ll to carry?”
“Not necessarily, but the law in Griffonstone states that all baggage over a certain size must be secured in a cart. You know, to keep griffons safe from falling objects.”
“And to keep the porters employed,” added Gidget. “You wouldn’t believe the measures some griffs take to avoid spending bits.”
Further discussion was halted as Guinevere appeared followed by a large, surly-looking griffon pulling a winged wagon behind him. He was big and muscular with the bright red feathers of a cardinal on his front half and the fur of a black jungle cat in the back. He spat on the ground then jerked his thumb at the bags.
“This it?” he asked in a deep voice.
“Yes,” replied Guinevere. “Six bags. Oh, and one pony passenger.”
The red feathered griffon regarded the brown filly, weighing her with his eyes. “Two bits more for the pony.”
Guinevere winced but handed over the money. The griffon quickly loaded the cart. The heavier bags were placed on the bottom while the softer ones were piled to form a cushion on the top.
“Get in,” he ordered Cinnamon Roll gruffly. “And make sure you’re buckled in. Can’t have you fallin’ on somegriff.”
The filly nodded and allowed Gulliand to assist her into the cart. They located the seatbelt, a pair of faded, dirty black straps with metal buckles, and soon she was locked in. The porter pulled the wagon towards a wide field on the other side of the tower where the ground was black and perfectly smooth. White lines marked out a runway that led to a well-lighted ramp in the distance. Standing on a small elevated platform next to the ramp, a griffon with a glowing red wand waved them forward. The porter smirked at Cinnamon Roll over his shoulder.
“Hold onto your flank.”
Cinnamon Roll hung on tight as they barreled down the runway. In a way, it reminded her of the time she and Cinnamon Stick had accidently gone airborne while sledding down Apple Tree Hill. One moment they were on solid ground, the next they were flying through space with nothing beneath them but the sled. It was an exhilarating moment. As the cart took flight, Cinnamon couldn’t help but cry out.
“YEEEEEEEHAAAAAAW!”
The porter looked back at her with begrudging respect. “Ya sure ain’t a coward,” he snorted.
Gulliand sailed up next to her on the right. “Are you all right, Cherie?”
“I’m fine!” she called back cheerfully. “Just wish it wasn’t gettin’ dark. I’d have liked to see the town.”
“Not much to see,” said Gigi, coming up on the left. “Griffonstone doesn’t have fancy buildings like Canterlot. The Great Grover Tree is pretty impressive though.”
“Oh! Gulliand told me all about the tree! It’s a giant ash that stands on the top of Mount Aerie. He said it’s so huge, the entire castle of King Grover was built in the crux of one of its branches!”
“That’s right!” the griffoness smiled proudly. “It’s the biggest tree in the known world! If you look to your right, you can see it over there!”
“Whoa!”
Even in the dying light, the Great Grover Tree was a wonder to behold. With its roots deeply anchored in the mountain, the tree’s enormous trunk had grown at an angle so its upper half leaned over a steep gorge. Its branches, each as wide as a Canterlot city block spread out from the trunk, forming roads that ended in talon-shaped twigs. Little houses like bird’s nests were nestled in these smaller branches. Lights from their windows shone like yellow stars against the darkening sky.
“Whoa,” said Cinnamon Roll again as they flew past. “Good thing it ain’t an apple tree. I don’t think all of Appleloosa could buck that thing!”
Gulliand chuckled. “But think of all the dumplings you could have made with the fruit!”
Before long, the group approached a plateau just north of the Great Grover Tree. Cinnamon Roll could see houses, some as large as the Apple family’s barn, dotted across its surface. The porter, guided by Guinevere, brought them in for a landing in front of an enormous white house with a smooth slate drive.
“Home sweet home,” said Gidget, landing nearby.
“Wow!” breathed Cinnamon, taking in the sight. The house was at least three stories high, box-shaped, and lined with white fluted columns that made her think of ancient Romane. Between these columns were tall arch-shaped windows, similar in shape to the stained-glass windows in the Canterlot palace but filled with plain panes of clear crystal. In the center of the wall, were a pair of large oaken doors with black iron hinges and ring handles. Guinevere briskly walked up to these doors which seemed to slowly swing open of their own accord.
“All right, let’s get unpacked,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped inside. “Hurry, now! Chop-chop!”
This last order was directed to the porter. The surly griffon swiftly unhitched and started carrying bags into the house. Gigi and Gidget joined their mother. Cinnamon Roll, who was used to assisting her Uncle Big Mac, couldn’t help feeling she ought to help somehow. She hauled the bags up and hoofed them to the porter.
“Here ya go.”
The red griffon simply grunted and took the bags. Gulliand assisted by hauling out the heavier ones containing the iron. He would have carried it into the house but the porter snatched it from him, growling into his face.
“Back off, rich kid.”
Gulliand held up his talons placatingly and quickly backed away. “Come along, Cherie,” he said, lifting Cinnamon Roll from the wagon bed. “I don’t believe he wants any assistance.”
The little filly nodded but was still reluctant to just leave. She remembered all the times she had assisted Applejack or Spike with deliveries and how tired and hungry the work had left her. She waited till the griffon was finished before quickly stepping forward.
“Thank you for your help,” she said warmly.
“Whatever.” The griffon mumbled, brushing past her to hitch up. Cinnamon Roll followed him.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
The griffon turned his head, his eagle eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Why are you asking?”
“No reason,” Cinnamon Roll replied with a shrug. “I just got a lot of food from the ship and I sure can’t eat it all. Here…” She opened the sack the chefs had given her and began hoofing boxes into the startled griffon’s claws. “This one is rice pilaf and green beans. And this one has souvlaki. It’s made with grilled pork. Oh, and here’s a few pieces of baklava for dessert. I think you’ll like that…”
Gulliand could have laughed at the look on the griffon’s face. He looked surprised, suspicious, and maybe even a little embarrassed. He stood there, staring at the boxes in his claws as if he didn’t know how they got there then looking uncertainly at Cinnamon Roll.
“What’s the catch?” he asked.
“No catch,” said Cinnamon Roll with a shrug. “I just thought you might be hungry. And I sure don’t need all this food.”
He still looked unsure.
“It’s a pony thing,” Gulliand told him.
The porter seemed to accept that. Carefully, he placed the boxes in the back of the wagon and hitched up.
“Thanks,” he grumbled low. With a few flaps of his wings, he and his wagon disappeared into the night.
Gulliand sidled up beside his fiancée and gave her a playful shoulder hug. “You do realize we would have gladly helped you eat all that, right?”
“I know,” said Cinnamon Roll, giving him an affectionate nuzzle. “But don’t worry. I made sure there was plenty of souvlaki left in the sack.”
The griffon lifted her chin with a wingtip as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “You are so good to me, Cherie.”
“AHEM.”
The two turned to see Guinevere standing in the doorway, a disapproving frown on her face. Cinnamon Roll chuckled softly as Gulliand comically rolled his eyes. “Coming, mother!”
The little filly was quickly ushered inside and into an arch-shaped foyer with a black marble floor. She was surprised when a blue-feathered griffon wearing a black suit silently appeared in front of her. He looked to be about Guinevere’s age, his feathers and smoke-colored fur fringed in white. Without a word he took their bags and placed them across his shoulder.
“The paper sack is full of food,” Gullaind told him. “You can put it in the kitchen,”
The griffon nodded gravely and trotted away. Cinnamon silently watched him go.
“That’s Gordon, the butler, in case you’re wondering,” said Gulliand, following her gaze. “Father hired him before I was born and he’s been here ever since. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s very reliable.”
Cinnamon simply nodded and allowed him to escort her into the next room. Beyond the foyer, the space opened up into a room that was roughly the size of two buckball courts. The ceiling was three stories high with an enormous crystal chandelier hanging over the center. On the opposite wall were several dark wooden bookcases loaded with heavy tomes. Two overstuffed chairs with floor lamps formed a reading corner. Towards the center of the room sat a long, brown overstuffed sofa, three equally fat chairs and a black iron coffee table with a crystal glass top. On the side closest to Cinnamon stood a dining table of the blackest mahogany, long enough to seat most of the Apple family kin. In the wall next to it was a beautifully built wooden door that led into the kitchen. Cinnamon stood still and took it all in.
“Wow!” she breathed. “You sure have a beautiful house!”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Guinevere who happened to be standing nearby. “It was built by my husband’s grandfather. He had a thing for the ancient Romane empire. This room was meant to be an atrium but the Griffinstone weather prevented it having a glass roof.”
“Wow!” Cinnamon whispered again. She looked up and noticed what appeared to be a wide landing that ran the length of the left wall. “What’s that up there?” she asked.
“That is the second story,” said Guinevere matter-of-factly. “That’s where the bedrooms are.”
Cinnamon Roll frowned. “Why doesn’t it have a railing?”
“A railing?” Guinevere looked puzzled. “Why would there be a railing?”
“To keep ya from fallin’ off and gettin’ hurt,” replied Cinnamon, giving the griffoness a strange look. “I mean…ain’t you scared of fallin’?”
Gidget burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? Watch this!”
With a few quick flaps, the snarky griffoness flew up and perched on the landing so her cat half was hanging precariously over the edge. Smirking, she continued to lower herself until almost her entire back half was curved under the landing. She looked like a cross between a parakeet and a cat trying to get in a window. With a flap of her wings, she righted herself again.
“You see? No problem!”
“Besides,” added Gigi. “If there were rails, we wouldn’t be able to fly up.”
“Fly up?” Cinnamon looked around the room. “There’s no stairs?”
Gulliand facepalmed. “Sacre Bleu! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you that little detail!”
“The griffons in some of the poorer hovels use a crude kind of staircase,” explained Guinevere. “In mansions like these,” she gestured at the wide-open space. “You fly up.”
“It’s a status thing,” Gigi shrugged.
“I…I see.” Cinnamon Roll gazed doubtfully at the unprotected landing. She was not afraid of heights, but she did have a fear of falling. Accidents on the farm were common, and falls were among some of the worst. She herself had never suffered a serious accident, but she had seen her Ma laid up for over a month after falling from the loft. And that landing was about as far off the ground as the hay loft…
“Are you all right, Cherie?” Gulliand’s voice whispered low in her ear.
“Yeah,” the little filly gulped. “I just didn’t expect there to be no stairs. Do you have any bedrooms on the ground floor?” She asked Guinevere.
The griffoness sniffed. “The only ones on the ground floor are in the servant quarters and those are all in use. Besides, my dear, you are engaged to my son. It would be unseemly for you not to take your rightful place upstairs.”
“Mother, please,” snapped Gulliand holding up a talon. He turned to Cinnamon Roll and spoke reassuringly. “It’s all right, Cherie. You don’t have to sleep upstairs if it worries you. We can make you a bed on the couch—”
“No, that’s okay,” Cinnamon Roll interrupted. If her soon-to-be-husband’s family slept upstairs in a house that had no stairs and no safety railing, then, by golly, she reckoned she could do it, too. “I’ll give it a try, if you can fly me up there.”
The griffon responded by wrapping his strong arms around her barrel and flying her up to the second floor. They landed next to Gidget who was now sprawled across the floor like a cat. She grinned at Cinnamon approvingly.
The landing was not as precarious as it had seemed from below. It was actually quite wide, big enough for two griffons to walk side by side without fear of toppling over the edge. It was also covered in carpet instead of marble which made slipping less likely. Cinnamon tested this by marching down the length of the landing, doing an about-face, then marching back.
“So, what do you think?”
Cinnamon smiled. “I think I can handle this,” she said.
“Lovely,” exclaimed Guinevere as she and Gigi joined them on the landing. “But, now, it is getting late. We’ve had a long day and it’s time we went to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” everyone answered obediently.
“Come Cinnamon Roll. Your bedroom is next to mine.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Cinnamon followed the griffoness to the proffered room, opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Hay!” she cried in surprise. “There’s a great big ol’ nest in here!”
Gidget fell out laughing. “Wow, bro! You really didn’t prepare her for griffon bedrooms!”
Cinnamon blushed. “Well, he always slept in a bed back in Canterlot,” she retorted.
Gidget and Gigi exchanged knowing leers.
“I lived in a one room apartment off campus!” Gulliand shouted. “Anyone could see my bed. Get your minds out of the gutter!”
Cinnamon Roll walked over to the nest. The outside appeared to be made of sticks carefully woven together to form a basket. Inside, she was relieved to see a standard mattress and a multitude of soft, comfortable pillows. Using a small stair, she climbed inside and flopped down. Oh, yes! The nest felt lovely! More than big enough to move around in, yet snug enough to be comforting. The griffons watched her in amusement.
“So, what do you think, Cherie?” asked Gulliand.
Cinnamon Roll peeked her head over the edge of the nest.
“PEEP!”
Gulliand, Gigi and Gidget literally hit the floor laughing. Even Guinevere couldn’t help chuckling at the funny sight. Giggling, the little filly lay back down. “I think this will be perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.” Guinevere turned and ushered the still chortling siblings out the door. “If there is nothing else, we shall see you in the morning. Good night!”
“Good night everypo—I mean griff!”
“Good night, Cherie.”
“Night!”
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite! OUCH! Mother!”
“We don’t have bedbugs! The idea!”
Guinevere closed the door and let out a heavy sigh. “All right, good night everyone. I’ll see you all at breakfast in the morning. Remember, Gigi, you have dancing lessons tomorrow at 10.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And Gidget, you have your grammar lessons, followed by Prench, Bitalian, and Political Science.”
“Yes, Mother,” Gidget sighed.
“I will be taking Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll tomorrow to look at that property, so I expect you both to behave while I’m gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girls chorused.
“Very well, to your rooms now! Go on, shoo!”
The girls raced to their rooms and slammed the doors. Gulliand, however, remained where he was.
“All right, Mother,” he said quietly. “Where is he?”
Guinevere looked startled. “Where is whom, dear?”
“Uncle George. The girls told me he was living with us again.”
“Oh,” Guinevere sighed sadly. “I knew we would be out of town a while, so I sent him to stay with your Aunt Garbo. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Aunt Garbo?” Gulliand winced.
“I know, I know it wasn’t ideal but I had no choice! The servants couldn’t do anything with him and Garbo is the only other family member he listens to.”
“Hard to ignore someone who screeches at you all the time,” snarked Gulliand.
“He’ll be home tomorrow,” Guinevere promised. She dropped her eyes apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier. But there was so much going on between you coming home and your father…” her voice drifted off hopelessly.
“The girls told me about that too.” Gulliand slid his arm across his mother’s shoulder and softly nuzzled her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, dear,” Guinevere whispered gratefully. They stayed like that a moment longer before the griffoness drew herself up, once again the prim diplomat’s wife. “Now, off to bed with you. We have a lot to do tomorrow!”
“Yes, Mother. Bonne nuit!”
Guinevere waited until her son had vanished into his room before heading to bed. As relaxing as her day had been, she was still weary and in need of some sleep. Yawning, she reached for the door.
“Miss Guinevere?”
The griffoness whirled around to find Cinnamon Roll standing nearby, looking at her with some urgency.
It was eight o’clock and the sun had risen round and golden as a fresh egg yolk over the city of Griffonstone. Ginny, a small griffoness with light brown feathers irritably pushed her mob cap back from her eyes.
“Stupid hat,” she muttered to herself.
She marched into one of the second story bedrooms and flung open the curtains. The morning light poured in, falling across an enormous nest. It was big enough to hold three full-grown griffons, but now only held one. Guinevere lay in the center, surrounded by soft pillows and covered by a satin sheet. She grimaced as the light fell across her eyes.
“Time to get up, ma’am,” Ginny monotoned.
Guinevere rose up and blinked. “What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock,” replied the maid, rolling her eyes. “The same time I always wake you up.”
“Mind your tone,” the older griffoness snapped. She lay back down and stretched her body like a cat, talons and claws spread out and extended. “Mmmmm! Have you wakened the others, yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. The girls anyway. Your son buried his head under the pillow and went back to sleep.”
Guinevere clucked her tongue in disapproval. “He never was a morning griffon. I’ll take care of him. And what about Cinnamon Roll? Did you waken her as well?”
“You mean the wingless pony?” asked Ginny, sneering slightly. “She’s been up since six o’clock, checking out the kitchen. I hear Cookie’s really annoyed right now.”
“Oh, dear,” said Guinevere, trying to sound nonchalant as she fought the urge to flinch. The cook, Cookie as she preferred to be called, was fiercely territorial about the kitchen. Guinevere stood up and stretched out her wings till the pin feathers trembled. “I suppose I’ll have to take care of that as well. Go ahead and make the nest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And be sure to shake out the pillows.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Guinevere sailed downstairs. Gigi and Gidget were seated across from each other at the dining table. The first was sitting upright, clean, groomed, and happy to meet the day. The latter, who hated mornings as much as Gulliand, had her chin perched on her talon, her uncombed feathers drooping over her half-opened eyes. A platter mounded with hot apple muffins sat between them.
“Good morning, Mother,” called Gigi cheerily. Gidget just grunted.
“Good morning, girls,” replied Guinevere. She frowned at Gidget’s unkempt appearance but refrained from saying anything. Her ornery daughter could be downright nasty in the mornings. She pointed at the platter. “Muffins, I see.”
“They’re fresh from the oven,” said Gigi snatching one up on her talon. “Hoo! Hot!” She dropped it on a small plate and slapped on a pat of butter. “Cinnamon Roll made them. She said she wanted to fix everygriff an AAAAAAAAppleoosa style breakfast.”
Gidget grimaced at the loud, exuberant yodel. “Gah! Keep it down, will ya!”
“Sorry. Anyway, that’s the way she pronounced it.”
“I see,” said Guinevere, sighing. “Well, I suppose I should check on her. I’m sure Cookie is fit to be tied.”
“Heh,” Gidget managed to mumble. “Wish someone would tie that biddie up.”
Reluctantly, Guinevere stepped into the kitchen. As befit the mansion of a wealthy diplomat, the kitchen was huge and carefully outfitted with all the best appliances. There were two stoves, two ovens, a walk-in freezer, pantry, and meat locker. All of them were made of the best stainless steel. In the middle of the kitchen sat a long granite-topped island complete with a handy stainless-steel sink. It was here she found Cinnamon Roll busily chopping onions with a hoof-knife.
“Mornin’, Miss Guinevere,” she called cheerfully.
“Good morning Cinnamon,” replied the griffoness politely. “I hear you were up early.”
“Yes ma’am!” The pony paused and slid the chopped onion into a bowl. “I’m an early riser. Habit from livin’ on a farm most of my life.”
“I see. How did you get downstairs?”
“Oh, Mr. Gordon helped me.”
Guinevere’s eyebrow rose. “Mr. Gordon?”
Cinnamon nodded. “He saw me out on the landing this mornin’ and was nice enough to give me lift down.”
“I see,” said Guinevere again. She made a mental note to instruct the filly on etiquette and how to address a servant. “Now, I understand you are preparing breakfast for us all?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Cinnamon, cutting into a red bell pepper. “I’m making the breakfast that my Cousin Braeburn likes to make for his family. I got the muffins on the table. Next, I’m gonna make some good old Appleoosan style hash browns, scrambled eggs—”
“That sounds lovely dear,” said Guinevere cutting her off. “However, I need to speak to Cookie. Do you know where she is?”
“I’m right here.”
Guinevere squawked in alarm as a short, fat griffoness with brown fur and feathers suddenly appeared next to her. The chubby hen’s face was set in a fierce scowl.
“Oh, Cookie! I-I didn’t see you—"
“There is a pony in my kitchen,” Cookie stated flatly.
Guinevere cringed. “Yes, there is. And I assure you—”
“I do not like other creatures in my kitchen.”
“I know that, Cookie, and—”
“I personally pick who I want helping me in my kitchen. No one else.”
“I understand. I will ask her to leave—”
“No need for that.”
Guinevere froze in mid reply, utterly confused. “W-W-What?” she stammered.
“She has already started breakfast,” replied Cookie with a shrug. “She may as well finish.”
“Oh.”
“I have already spoken to her about this and she apologized.”
“Oh, good.”
“She also asked about my recipe for chicken fricassee,” Cookie added proudly. “I didn’t think ponies cooked meat.”
“I didn’t think so either,” replied Guinevere stunned. She knew Cinnamon made vegetable dishes and desserts, but had assumed her son would take care of the meat. “So, you are all right with her being here?”
“For now,” Cookie replied. She then pointed a long menacing talon at Guinevere. “Just do not let it happen again.”
The griffoness nodded. “It won’t. I promise.”
“Good. Now get out of here and let the pony work!”
Guinevere didn’t wait to be told twice. She turned and quickly slipped from the kitchen. As the door swung closed behind her, she couldn’t help but give one incredulous look back. Did that just happen?
“How did it go, Mother?” asked Gigi as the griffoness took a seat at the table.
“Fine, dear.” Guinevere took a muffin and daintily slathered it with butter. She took a bite and gave a small hum of delight. “Just fine.”
It wasn’t long before the savory smells of breakfast food wafted into the dining room. They could smell the onions and peppers mixed with the scent of frying potatoes. This was followed by the aromatic scent of perking coffee and the rich smell of scrambled eggs in butter. The next scent had all the griffons sitting up and taking notice. Gidget’s sleepy eyes widened in surprise as she sniffed the air.
“Great Grover’s throne! Is she cooking—”
“BACON!”
Everyone turned as Gulliand landed heavily next to the table. His feathers were badly ruffled and his eyes were crusted in sleep. “I SMELL BACON!”
Gigi giggled. “I guess that woke you up!”
“But of course! It’s BACON!” Gulliand took a seat at the table next to his mother but his eyes were riveted on the kitchen door. “I haven’t had bacon in months! Not since Uncle Gustave’s rations ran out.” He glanced back at the table. “Where’s Cinnamon Roll?”
“In there with the bacon,” replied Gidget with a smirk.
“What?” Her brother’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean Cookie let her—cook?”
Gigi shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
A few minutes later, the wooden door to the kitchen swung open as Cinnamon Roll pushed a loaded food cart into the dining room. The griffons practically drooled at the sight as she unloaded her cargo onto the table. The little pony grinned at their eagerness.
“Ya’ll go ahead and dig in,” she said. “I’ll pour the coffee.”
They needed no second bidding. All four heaped their plates, being careful to leave some for Cinnamon Roll. They had barely begun to eat when they heard the front door slam. A male voice murmured something followed by a screeching female voice everyone could hear.
“I don’t care if they’re dining with Tirek in Tartarus! Get out of my way, Blue Jay!”
An irate griffoness came charging into the room. She looked similar to Guinevere, except her feathers were more off-white than white and her fur was a dark navy instead of black. She made a direct line for Guinevere.
“So, you couldn’t even send a servant to fetch him, could you?” she snarled.
“Garbo, dear! We just got up ourselves—"
“I thought I would have a chance for a decent breakfast this morning but NOOOOOOO!” the griffoness continued to rant. “He had to steal the eggs from the cooler and…TRY TO HATCH THEM!”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Guinevere.
“Our meal was ruined! And so was my guestroom nest! Do you know how hard it is to get egg yolk out of a mattress?”
“I’m sorry, Garbo. I’ll pay for a new nest.”
“You better!” The angry griffoness noticed Cinnamon Roll who was still pouring coffee. “What’s with the pony? You finally get rid of that crotchety old cook?”
“I don’t believe I was talking to you, little boy,” Garbo snapped. She turned back to Guinevere leaving her nephew to grind his beak. “So, why is the pony here? You trying to show off your wealth or something?”
“NO!” said Guinevere drawing herself up regally. “This pony is Cinnamon Roll. She is Gulliand’s business partner and…friend.” Gigi, Gidget, and Gulliand glanced questioningly at their mother when she said that last part. “They are opening a restaurant here in Griffonstone.”
Garbo snorted. “I remember you saying something about that. You’d have been better off staying in Equestria, boy,” she added over her shoulder to Gulliand. The griffoness plopped down in a seat and looked expectantly at Cinnamon. “You! Get me some eggs and bacon. And make it snappy!”
The other griffons glared at her. Guinevere was about to remind her that the pony was not a servant but Cinnamon answered first.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said politely. “Let me get you a plate.” She went into the kitchen and returned with a plate similar to the ones the others were using. She then loaded it up with eggs and bacon and presented it to Garbo who took it without so much as a thanks.
Gulliand was so furious he could barely bring himself to eat. The others were equally subdued, picking at their food. Cinnamon Roll remained cheery and even fetched a cup so the griffoness could have coffee.
Garbo smacked her beak. “Delicious!” She wiped her beak with a napkin and tossed it across her empty plate. “That will do for me. Honestly, you should give up on opening a restaurant and work as somegriff's personal chef.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cinnamon Roll sweetly.
Garbo stood up. “I still expect payment for that nest, Guinevere! And those eggs!”
“Of course,” Guinevere replied, her eye twitching.
No one spoke as the rude griffoness exited the room. Only when they heard the front door slam shut did they open up.
“Chienne!” Gulliand hissed.
“Of all the nerve!” huffed Gigi.
“Jerk Face,” Gidget growled.
“I am sorry for that Cinnamon Roll,” said Guinevere. “Though I must say you handled the situation well.”
“Yeah,” said Gidget. “You didn’t blow up or anything. How could you stand that?”
Cinnamon shrugged. “Well, I just remembered my manners and treated her like a guest.” She then gave a wicked grin. “Giving her a dirty plate and cup didn’t hurt either.”
There was a moment of silence as this last part sunk in, then everyone burst into laughter. Gulliand wiped his streaming eyes.
“Oh, Cherie! Remind me to never make you mad! Ha-ha-ha!”
“AHEM!”
There was a pause in the laughter as everyone turned to see Gordon standing at attention at the far end of the table. He looked at Guinevere and spoke in a deep, quiet voice.
“Mr. George is waiting in the foyer, Madam. Shall I bring him in?”
“Goodness!” cried Guinevere. “With all that happened, I forgot she was bringing him here! Yes! Bring him in! Poor fellow’s probably hungry!”
“Who is Mr. George?” asked Cinnamon Roll as Gordon bowed out of the room.
“He’s my uncle,” Guinevere explained. “My mother’s youngest brother, to be exact. He was the baby of the family. Garbo was watching him for me while we were in Equestria.”
The filly raised an eyebrow. “Watching him?”
“Uncle George has Old Timers,” said Gigi somberly. “You know what that is?”
Cinnamon Roll nodded. “Yeah. My Aunt Goldie has it. She had to go into the nursing home when she started getting lost in her own yard.”
“I wish we had one of those facilities here,” said Guinevere with a sigh. “My siblings and I take turns caring for him. He can be very stubborn which makes him quite the talonful.”
“That’s an understatement,” muttered Gidget.
Further discussion was interrupted as Gordon returned followed closely by a scowling elderly griffon. He was large but his features were sunken and his skin seemed to hang off his frame. Despite his age, his feathers and fur were black as Luna’s night without a hint of gray. His golden eyes glared at them suspiciously.
Guinevere rose to meet him. “Uncle George! How are you this morning?”
The old griffon’s eyes narrowed on her. “Where in Tartarus have you been?” he snapped in a gravelly voice. “Leaving me with that Harpy!”
“I’m sorry Uncle George. It won’t happen again. Would you like some breakfast?”
Uncle George appeared to think about that a moment. “Yes. I guess so.”
Gordon escorted him to a seat and Cinnamon Roll fetched him a clean plate. She loaded it with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and a muffin then placed it in front of him.
“Here you are Uncle George,” she said kindly.
The old griffon stared at her. “Why do I have a niece who looks like a pony?”
Gulliand facepalmed as Gigi and Gidget shook with stifled laughter. Cinnamon just smiled and answered him patiently.
“’Cuz I am a pony, sir. My name is Cinnamon Roll. I’m engaged to Gulliand.”
“Really?” the old griffon frowned and appeared to be considering what he thought about the matter. In the end he just nodded. “Good for him. Now, what is this?” He pointed at the food on his plate.
“You have scrambled eggs, and bacon, and hash browns, and an apple cinnamon muffin.”
He stared at the food doubtfully. “Do I like this?” he asked.
Cinnamon was about to reply that she didn’t know when Guinevere cut her off. “Yes, Uncle George,” she said. “You eat that all the time.”
Uncle George frowned then after a moment picked up his fork and tentatively ate his eggs. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“Getting him to eat is a hassle sometimes,” Guinevere whispered to Cinnamon Roll. “He has trouble concentrating and he forgets what he’s doing.”
Everyone returned to eating. Cinnamon Roll filled her own plate and took a seat next to Gulliand. She was pleased to see everyone enjoying the food.
“Mmm! This bacon is perfect,” said Gidget, nibbling on a strip. “I’m surprised you were able to make it.”
“I learned about preparing meat while at the college,” the little filly replied. “Maestro Gustave was the one who taught the class, but Gulliand helped me practice after school.” She glanced at her fiancé and chuckled. “It was a lot easier after he got his own apartment.”
“Who knew frying cubed steak would cause an emergency evacuation of the dormitories?” Gulliand grumbled.
The family had a laugh at that. They ate and chatted for a while, occasionally stopping to encourage Uncle George to finish his breakfast. He ate slowly but seemed to like what he was eating. It wasn’t long before everyone had finished and Guinevere checked the time.
“It’s half past nine!” she cried. Hastily, she drank what remained of her coffee and wiped her beak on a napkin. “The tutors will be here soon! Gigi, go put on your leotard and slippers.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And Gidget, for heaven’s sake, get a bath, groom yourself! You look like a slovenly market griffon!”
“Yes, ma’am,” grumbled Gidget.
“All right, Gulliand, go brush out your feathers and clean your face. I’m taking you to see that property today. Cinnamon Roll, if you could just—what are you doing?”
The filly who was holding a stack of dirty cups froze in place. “Cleaning up the table.”
“You don’t need to do that, child. We have dining staff to take care of that.” She rang a little bell and two griffonesses wearing aprons marched into the room and began to clear the table. “There. Now you just run over to the washroom and make yourself presentable. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
“Come along, Cherie,” said Gulliand, nudging a reluctant Cinnamon towards the downstairs washroom. “No sense arguing with Mother when she’s in this mood.”
The two took turns washing in the sink. Gulliand groomed his feathers and Cinnamon Roll brushed her mane and teeth. The little filly then stepped out so Gulliand could use the toilet. As she waited, she saw Gigi glide down wearing a pink leotard and ballet slippers made to fit her back paws. The griffoness noticed her staring.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Gidget always does.”
“Why? I think you look cute,” said Cinnamon Roll.
Gigi snorted. “I think I look like a feathery sausage stuck in a pink casing!”
“No! You remind me of the little ballerina fillies back home dancing The Nutcracker at Hearth’s Warming.”
Gigi cringed. “Gee, thanks.”
Cinnamon wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “Don’t you like dancing?”
Gigi shrugged. “I like it. It’s fun and I’m pretty good at it. I just don’t like having to wear these tight-fitting things.” She tugged at the leotard’s neck. “It makes me claustrophobic. But that’s one of the things you have to put up with when you’re a LeGrand.”
Cinnamon shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Okay, you understand our father is a diplomat for the Griffon Kingdom.” The filly nodded. “Well, that kinda makes us diplomats, too. Whenever there’s a summit or a ball like the Grand Galloping Gala, we have to attend with him. My job at these functions is to be charming and graceful.” The griffoness demonstrated by performing an elegant arabesque much to Cinnamon’s delight. “I often share dances with esteemed guests.”
“Does Gidget dance, too?”
“Not really,” replied Gigi, shrugging. “Father decided long ago that Gidget was the clever one. She should take language, history, and political science. I’m just the pretty but silly one who’s only useful for charming important guests.”
“Well, I think you’re purty smart,” murmured Cinnamon Roll, laying a comforting hoof on the griffoness’ shoulder. “And Gidget is just as purty as you are. I don’t know what your Pa’s thinking.”
Gigi gave a shy grin. “Thanks, Cinnamon Roll.”
Gulliand exited the bathroom drying his talons on a towel. “Well, I’m ready—.” He paused at the sight of his sister in her leotard. The corner of his beak twitched. “I see you weren’t joking about the dance lessons.”
Gigi just gave her brother a wry grin. Their mother fluttered down next to them, her feathers and fur combed into place and her pearl necklace with the letter “L” was displayed prominently on her neck.
“All right, come along now,” she said as she shepherded Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll outside. “The house is close to the center of the market at the root of the tree. It’s not in the best condition, but with the grant money you received you should be able to fix it up quite nicely. Oh, my goodness!” she cried, backpedaling towards the door. “I forgot Cinnamon Roll cannot fly! That’s all right. I’ll call Gordon to fly you--”
Guinevere froze in mid-sentence as her son took the filly into his arms and flew away.
“See you at the bottom, Mother!” he called over his shoulder.
The griffoness huffed indignantly. “That boy has completely lost the whole concept of decorum.”
The Griffonstone market, located at the base of the Great Grover Tree closest to the trunk, was the business hub of the city. Permanent shops that sold dry goods and work equipment formed a circle around the trunk. Temporary vendors showed off their wares from booths or the back of rickety wagons. Fast-talking sales griffons bantered with passers-by and barkers drummed up business.
“Here we are!” Gulliand announced as he set Cinnamon Roll down on a clear space near the base of the Great Grover Tree.
“W-w-Wow!” Standing so close, the little filly could fully appreciate the enormity of the ancient tree. “N-now I know how a Breezie feels lookin’ at a regular old apple tree!”
The griffon laughed. “Don’t stare, Cherie. They’ll think you’re a tourist.”
Guinevere landed heavily next to them. “There you are,” she huffed. “What have I told you about leaving me behind?”
Her son sighed as he rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
The griffoness snorted, but decided to let it go. “Well, come along. The building is on the other side of the tree.”
The couple followed Guinevere as she wove her way through the market. Cinnamon Roll couldn’t help looking around her as they went. There were no flower sellers like there were in Ponyville or fancy art vendors like in Canterlot. Most of the stalls sold tools, gadgets, or medicinal remedies. One stall they passed sold leather belts and chaps. The filly was intrigued with the tooling on the belts but the sight of a cowhide pegged on the wall behind the counter made her turn away.
“Definitely NOT something to tell the cows back home.”
“Fish! Fresh caught fish! Buy ‘em whole or fillet!”
Cinnamon turned to see a griffon fish monger expertly gut and slice a fish into neat portions then grab up another and repeat the process. The fish were obviously dead, so the sight did not bother the filly as much as she thought it would. In fact, she rather admired the quick, matter of fact way the griffon operated.
“Move it, Pony! If ya ain’t buyin’ then get outta the way!”
“Sorry!” Cinnamon hurried away to catch up with Gulliand.
She passed several other vendors selling meat. One advertised hams, sausages, rashers of bacon, and something called head cheese. Cinnamon shivered in disgust. She very much doubted head cheese was the kind of thing you made pimento and cheese with. As she passed another stall, she heard the loud squawking of a protesting chicken.
THUNK!
The squawking abruptly stopped.
Cinnamon gulped as she tried not to look. She hurried up to Gulliand and pressed her face into his neck.
“I’m used to handlin’ meat,” she murmured. “But seeing what you gotta do to get it…That’s gonna take some gettin’ used to.”
Her fiancé looked down at her with sympathy. “It died quick, Cherie. We griffons are carnivores but we are humane.”
The two continued in silence past other vendors. A fruit stand selling what Cinnamon knew to be subpar apples. A vegetable stand with withered looking carrots and bell peppers.
“Scones! Get your Griffon scones!”
Cinnamon paused. That voice. It sounded feminine yet hoarse like…Aunt Rainbow Dash! She turned and looked in the direction of the voice. Standing nearby was a griffoness. She wasn’t very big, but she wasn’t small like Gigi and Gidget. She had soft beige-colored fur and slightly darker wings. Her head feathers were white, the ends tinged the color of heliotrope. This same color circled her eyes, giving them a speculative appearance. The griffoness noticed her stare. At first, she seemed surprised to see Cinnamon, a pony, looking at her. Then the look morphed into an angry scowl.
“Get lost, dweeb!” she snarled.
“Come along, Cinnamon,” said Guinevere, prodding the filly along. She gave the scone baker a withering look. “That one isn’t worth it.”
“Huh! Stuck-up jerk!”
Guinevere ignored the insult and shepherded Cinnamon and Gulliand to a spot on the other side of the tree. There, under one of the gigantic branches, was a house. It was large, bigger than most of the other buildings around it, but nowhere near as big as the LeGrand mansion. It was two stories tall and longer than it was wide. The walls were made of gray stones, weathered and stained by wind and water.
“Well,” said Cinnamon Roll, after a moment. “The walls seem to be in purty fair condition.”
“Oui,” Gulliand nodded slowly. “But the roof is a different matter. It’s completely covered in thatch!”
“Not completely,” put in Guinevere, pointing to the side closest to them. “That part is covered in good, slate tiles. The rest is wooden shingles covered with thatch.”
“Um, why would someone do that,” asked Cinnamon. “Wouldn’t it be better to have covered the whole house in slate?”
The griffoness shrugged. “I don’t know why the owner did it this way. Perhaps he was low on bits or maybe he liked the thatch…”
“Or maybe he was a cheapskate who didn’t want to pay for a whole slate roof,” put in Gulliand, bitterly. “Welcome to Griffinstone Economics 101, Cherie.”
“Let’s look inside.”
Guinevere unlocked the door and the three stepped inside. The house was surprisingly well lit thanks to a line of windows that let in the morning sun. To their left was a large space open to the rafters. Looking up, they could see the wooden shingles that made up the roof. Some of them looked damp. Gulliand flew up and poked one area with his talon. The rotten wood gave way easily.
“Not good,” he said, bringing a piece to show Cinnamon Roll. “I think the whole roof needs to be replaced.”
Cinnamon nodded. “Sure looks like it. And if the shingles are rotten, I’m sure the rafters are too. Better check the support beams while we’re at it.”
The griffon flew up to comply. Meanwhile, Cinnamon poked around below, testing the wooden columns and wall panels. To her relief, none of the columns appeared to be damp or rotted. The same could not be said for the wall panels as water from the leaky roof had run down and seeped into the wood. Gulliand flew down a few minutes later. His face was grim.
“The rafters are rotten and need to be replaced. The support beams appear to be all right, though. Still, this is going to be expensive to fix. Wood that size would have to be cut from the forest and hauled up the mountain by wagon. And then we’d have to hire the carpenters to fix it…”
“Don’t worry about that, Sugar cube,” said Cinnamon Roll, cutting him off. “As many barn raisings as I’ve helped with, I’m sure we can handle that part ourselves.” She clopped her hooves together eagerly. “I don’t mind getting’ my hooves dirty.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Guinevere, distaste clear in her voice. “Now, let’s look at this side of the house. I believe you will find it to be in better repair.”
The two followed her through an arched doorway and into a cozy stone-walled room. Unlike the other room, this one was not open to the rafters but had a high ceiling. A round wooden table and stool sat in the center. Both were covered thickly in dust. In the corner was a doorway with a flight of wooden stairs that led to a second floor. Gulliand and Cinnamon climbed up and found themselves in a loft. A discarded nest against the wall hinted this had once been a bedroom. A quick look at the roof revealed no water damage or rot, the slate roof having protected it from harm.
“Previous owner may have been cheap, but he certainly made sure his sleeping area was protected,” said Gulliand. “Rafters are dry and solid here.”
“The floor looks good, too,” replied Cinnamon Roll, knocking her hoof against the boards. “Nary a creak or a groan.”
The two descended and followed Guinevere into another stone-walled room. Cinnamon Roll gasped in delight. The room was a kitchen! A long, gray, granite-topped counter, perfect for preparing food, ran the length of one wall. Under this were several drawers and cabinets offering plenty of storage space for pots and utensils. At one end was a stainless-steel double-sink with a drying rack. Against the far wall was the star of the room; a big, beautiful black iron stove and oven. The little filly almost squealed when she saw it.
“OH! It’s just like the one Granny had when I first came to Sweet Apple Acres!” she whispered as she lovingly stroked it’s iron top. “I made my first apple pie in it.”
“It looks like a good stove,” agreed Gulliand. “I must say this kitchen makes up for that first room we saw.”
“I agree. Oh, what’s behind those two doors?”
“I believe it’s the pantry and larder,” said Guinevere opening the doors. “Yes, that’s what they are. Come take a look.”
“Wow!” whispered Cinnamon, gazing into the first room. It was small but more than big enough to hold lots of provisions. She peeked into the next room. It was smaller but cooler. Meat hooks handing from the ceiling told her what this room had once been used for. “Wow,” she said again.
Gulliand was also impressed. “I like it,” he said. “I think we may be able to work with this. The hard part will be getting the roof fixed and getting the building up to some kind of code. Do you think it is worth it, Cherie?”
Cinnamon nodded. “I think we can do it. Ten thousand bits can do a lot if you know the right folks.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Guinevere, sounding relieved. “Come along, now. I need to get back home and check on the girls. You two run along to the lumber mill and see if you can get an estimate on those beams. And check with a carpenter! If someone gets hurt fixing a roof, I would prefer it not be you two!”
“Yes, mother.”
“Yes, Miss Guinevere.”
The three exited into the street and the griffoness locked the door behind them. As they walked away, Cinnamon once again saw the beige and white scone baker selling her wares. The griffoness glared at the filly but didn’t say anything. Cinnamon shuddered. She had seen that look before.
It was the same look Rainbow Dash had given Gulliand at the graduation dinner.
“Hmmm?” Guinevere glanced up from the book she was reading to see the butler laying a loaded tray on a nearby table. “It’s a little late for tea, isn’t it?" she asked. "It’s almost dinnertime.”
“Yes, madam,” Gordon nodded as he poured a cup and handed it to his mistress. The griffoness breathed in the scent of the hot tea.
“Chamomile! How thoughtful.”
Gordon bowed. “I thought you might be needing it about now,” he murmured glancing up at the balcony.
“GREAT GROVER UP A GUMTREE!” Gidget's shriek ripped through the quiet.
“Miss Gidget," a deeper, nasal voice pleaded. "Please…”
“This is so stupid! Why should I have to learn the old Changeling language?”
“Well, your Father is the ambassador to the Changeling Kingdom. He thought it would make a good impression—”
“HOW? IT'S PRACTICALLY A DEAD LANGUAGE! THEY ALL SPEAK EQUESTRIAN NOW!”
“That is beside the point, young lady! You should show proper respect—"
“OH, YEAH? WELL, CHIRP-CHIRP-WHIR-WHIR-CLICK!”
“NOW SEE HERE! THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR!”
Guinevere sighed. “Thank you, Gordon.”
The blue-feathered butler bowed. The griffoness sipped the tea and closed her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. Chamomile sweetened with honey and just a hint of lemon. Just as she liked it.
“THAT IS IT! LANGUAGE LESSONS ARE OVER FOR THE DAY!” A dark, heavy-set griffon wearing a pair of thick pince-nez on his broad beak, landed on the marble floor near Guinevere. “Perhaps by tomorrow the little Harpy will have calmed down! Good day, Madam!”
“Good day,” Guinevere sighed as the griffon stomped away. She turned her attention to the upper floor. “GIDGET!”
The little griffoness landed heavily next to her mother’s chair. Her feathers ruffled and her tail lashed like an agitated cat.
“What did I tell you about showing respect to your tutors? You’re lucky your little tantrum didn’t run him off permanently!
“I certainly wouldn’t have minded,” Gidget muttered petulantly.
“What’s all the racket?” Gigi, still dressed in her pink leotard, fluttered down beside her sister. “I could hear you yelling over the music!”
“This is not your concern, Gigi,” Guinevere dismissed with a wave of her talon.
“I had it out with Professor Gawain,” Gidget told her, smirking. “I called him a ‘buzzard’ in Old Changeling.”
Gigi gasped. “No way!”
“Way.”
“Girls!” Their mother’s sharp voice made them both jump. “That is enough! Gigi, go back to your room and finish your dance homework!”
“Yes, mother.”
" Gidget, you were completely out of line! You will write a formal apology to Professor Gawain and give it to him when he returns tomorrow!”
The little griffoness balked. "What? Are you--"
“No arguments!" Guinevere interrupted, pointing a long angry talon at her daughter. "I expect to see it before we eat tonight, or you will be going to bed without supper. Is that understood?”
Gidget gulped. “Yes, mother.”
“Good.” Guinevere sat back in her chair and resumed sipping her tea. “Now, return to your room. I’ll see you at supper.”
Defeated, Gidget, slunk back upstairs, slamming the door to her room as hard as she dared. Sighing in relief, Guinevere returned to her book. She had only read a few pages when Gulliand entered the room.
“We’re back…finally,” he announced.
“So, I see,” said Guinevere, looking him over. “Goodness, you’re dusty! You didn’t get that dirty at the lumber mill?”
“No, mother.” Her son chuckled as he lightly shook himself off. “We took one of the mill workers back to the house for some measurements and while we were walking on the roof, I—well—fell through.”
“Oh, no!”
“It’s all right, Mother. I wasn’t hurt and the roof needed to come down anyway. So, no harm done!”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Guinevere sighed. She craned her neck to look behind him. “Where is Cinnamon Roll?”
“Oh, she’s outside brushing herself off. She decided she just had to clean that old stove while we were there.”
Guinevere was about to ask another question when she was interrupted by a thumping sound in the foyer. “Oh, horse apples!” a voice whispered. A second later, Cinnamon Roll stepped into sight.
The griffoness’ eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. The little filly looked as if she had been stuffed up a chimney! Her brown coat was now black as pitch and her creamy mane was streaked dingy brown. Despite tip-hoofing across the floor, a grainy trail of grime followed in her wake.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, smiling apologetically, her teeth shining white against her darkened fur. “I brushed myself out as best I could.”
Gulliand shrugged. “It is nowhere near as bad as you looked when you cleaned Uncle Gustave’s ovens last spring break. You could have passed for Nightmare Moon!”
“Be that as it may,” said Guinevere, leaning as far away from the filthy filly as her chair would allow. “You need a bath, dear, and badly! Gordon!”
“Yes, madam?”
“Escort Cinnamon Roll to the downstairs bath. Make sure she has everything she needs to get clean.”
“At once, madam.” The butler turned to Cinnamon Roll. “This way, Miss Cinnamon.”
The little filly tip-hoofed after the griffon to a large door located between two bookshelves. The butler pushed it open.
“AAAKKK!! Close that door!”
Gordon quickly slammed the door shut. “I apologize, Mr. George! I didn’t realize you were in there, sir!”
“Humph!” They could hear the elderly griffon grunt. “If I wanted an audience I’d poop on the stage and charge admission!”
Gulliand pressed his talon to his beak, his whole body shaking with suppressed laughter. Guinevere buried her face in her talons, muttering a frantic prayer between her fingers. “Please, let it be in the toilet…please, let it be in the toilet…”
FLUSH!
“Oh, thank heaven…”
Uncle George huffily exited the bathroom, shaking his feathers in agitation. “I swear, no one respects privacy anymore! Not even a lock on the blasted door!”
“Sorry to barge in like that Uncle George,” said Cinnamon Roll placatingly.
The old griffon looked her over, his golden eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do I know you?”
The filly smiled. “I’m Cinnamon Roll. Gulliand’s fiancé.”
His face wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you were brown.”
“I am,” Cinnamon Roll assured him, trying not to laugh. “I just got dirty cleaning an old oven. I’ll be brown again after I’ve had my bath.”
Uncle George stared at her for a moment, his brain processing what she had said. Finally, he nodded. “I got you. Go on in.”
“Thank you, Uncle George.”
Guinevere sighed in relief as the elderly griffon flew up to his room.
“I should take a bath as well,” said Gulliand, scratching his fur. “There’s no telling where this dust has been.”
“Were you able to get an estimate on the repairs?” Guinevere asked.
“Yes, but I would rather discuss this when Cinnamon Roll is here.” He paused then continued apprehensively. “There are other things we need to talk about as well.”
His mother winced. “I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?”
“We shall see. I’m going to get my shower. We’ll discuss it at dinner. Excuse me, mother.”
He reached the upper story with a flap of his wings and disappeared into the bathroom.
Gordon appeared at Guinevere’s elbow. “More tea, madam?”
“Yes,” the griffoness sighed. “And add a shot of whiskey.”
“Mmm! This is delicious!”
Cinnamon Roll, returned to her usual brown and cream colors, sat at the table next to her fiancé, her plate piled with Griffon potato salad and green beans. Unlike Granny Smith, who served her potato salad with pickles, boiled eggs, and mustard, the griffon cook used cold boiled potatoes, diced onion, and bell peppers then mixed them with oil and vinegar. The taste was sharp and electrifying. The griffons couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm.
“At least someone appreciates my cooking!” Cookie’s voice called from the kitchen.
“It is always good, Cookie!” Gulliand called back. “And I love the ham baked with pineapples! I haven’t had that in a long time!”
“Cuz you lived among ponies for a long time,” snorted Gidget. She flicked a piece of hot pineapple to the side of her plate. “I’m surprised Cinnamon Roll was able to make bacon this morning. I thought ponies would get sick at the sight of meat.”
“Most would,” Cinnamon Roll agreed. “Some of the ponies I went to college with got sick the first time they saw raw meat. But, Aunt Fluttershy taught me that different critters eat different things. That’s just how nature is. It still wasn’t easy, but I learned how to prepare, cook, and slice meat.”
“Reminds me of the time Uncle Gustave ordered the class to shave ham for sandwiches,” Gulliand chuckled. “Cinnamon asked if it was safe to use shaving cream!”
Cinnamon cut her eyes at him, but the griffon was laughing too hard to notice.
“He got mad because he thought she was joking…HA-HA-HA!! But she was SERIOUS! HA-HA!!”
“Oh, hush you!” growled Cinnamon Roll, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. The girls giggled and Guinevere smirked at their antics. The elder griffoness was carefully slicing some meat for her uncle. The old griffon watched warily as she piled it on his plate.
“Do I like this?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes, Uncle George. You eat it all the time.”
She watched as he took a bite and swallowed. Content he would eat without further encouragement, she turned her attention to her son.
“So, Gulliand, you were able to get an estimate on the repairs?”
Gulliand stopped laughing. “Yes,” he replied soberly. “It will be two thousand bits for the beams and the roof.”
Guinevere winced. “That the best you could do?”
Gulliand shrugged. “They had some pine which was cheaper but Cinnamon Roll insisted on the oak.”
“Oak is the best wood for beams,” said Cinnamon Roll. “That’s what my uncle always used when fixin’ the barn.”
“And I trust her judgement,” Gulliand concluded.
Guinevere nodded. “And what about the roof? Are you going to continue with the slate?”
Gulliand shook his head. “Slate is far too expensive. We discussed it and thought we might go with tar shingles.”
“Ugh!” Guinevere wrinkled her face as if she had tasted a lemon. “Those are so inelegant.”
“Well, tar shingles ain’t purty to look at but they are cheaper and they work really well,” said Cinnamon. “They’re also easier to replace if they get damaged.”
“We do what we have to, Mother,” added Gulliand. “Remember, these estimates are just for the materials. We haven’t discussed labor yet…”
“And labor can cost more than the materials,” the griffoness groaned.
“Well, Cinnamon Roll spoke with the head carpenter about that, and she found a way to knock 500 bits off the labor.”
“She did?” Guinevere looked at the filly in surprise. “And how did you manage that, dear?”
Cinnamon shrugged. “I told him that Gulliand and I would help the crew with the repairs.”
Total silence fell over the table. The only sound to be heard was the “clink-clink” of Uncle George using his fork. The griffonesses sat still, staring at the couple in bemused silence. Cinnamon Roll glanced around uneasily. “Did…did I say something wrong?”
“Are you flapping serious?”
“Gidget!” cried Guinevere aghast. “Watch your language!”
“Sorry,” the griffoness off-handedly apologized then turned back to her brother. “What in the wide world of Griffdom do you know about fixing roofs?”
“Or using tools?” added Gigi.
“I admit I know nothing about fixing roofs,” retorted Gulliand. “But as many times as I fixed the equipment at Uncle Gustave’s bakery, I think I know how to use tools.”
“So, you’re serious,” said Gigi, raising a skeptical brow. “You’re going to work on a roof sawing and hammering and getting all sweaty?”
“Yes, I am,” Gulliand replied, puffing himself up indignantly. “I can do hard labor when I have to.”
“Yeah,” Gidget snorted sarcastically. “Those eclairs are sooooo heavy!”
Her brother bristled. “Hey, try carrying a wagonload of fifty-pound bags of flour into a cupboard and then stacking them!” he snapped.
“That will do, Gidget,” Guinevere intervened before her daughter could reply. “I’m glad they found a way to keep the costs down. I’m sure there is much more that needs to be done.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cinnamon Roll nodded. “Once we get the roof fixed, we’re going to tackle the kitchen and get that up to code. Then, we can start the next phase of the plan.”
“Which is?”
“We’re going to start selling samples of our food in the marketplace! I wanted to give out free samples like we do in Ponyville but Gulliand said that wouldn’t work.”
“It wouldn’t,” said Gigi, shaking her head. “Griffons may be cheapskates, but they are highly suspicious of anything that is free.”
“Exactly,” Gulliand nodded. “This way we can be drumming up interest in the restaurant and making a little money on the side.”
Cinnamon Roll smiled at her fiance. “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “Anyway, once we start cookin’, we’re gonna need to fix up the livin’ space so we can move in. That way we don’t have to go up and down the mountain every morning.”
“So, you two are planning on living together before marriage?” asked Guinevere, sounding slightly scandalized. “I assumed you would both live with us until the wedding.”
Cinnamon Roll blushed. “Well, we had planned on gettin' married the day after graduation, but Granny Smith talked us out of it.”
“The Apples are a very large family with ingrained traditions,” explained Gulliand, giving his fiancee’s hoof a supportive squeeze. “They wished for her to have a proper wedding, but that could not happen until we had established our business, so her grandmother accommodated us.”
Gidget gave a dry smile. “You can live together but no nesting.”
“Right,” her brother replied, returning her dry look. “Cinnamon Roll wishes to wait until marriage for that sort of thing and I respect that.”
“Sure you’re related to our father?” Gidget mumbled under her breath, which earned her a kick under the table from Gigi. Cinnamon Roll gave her fiancé a warm nuzzle.
“Thanks, Sugar Cube.”
The filly returned to her meal. To her surprise, a slice of ham had appeared on her plate.
“Wha—where did--?”
“Here, girl!” Uncle George leaned in close and plunked down another juicy slice along with a few chunks of roasted pineapple. “No fair these vultures hogging it all!”
The little filly blushed, unsure of what to say. One of the last things she wanted to do was insult the elderly griffon. Luckily, Guinevere came to her rescue. She gently laid a talon on her uncle’s arm. “Uncle George, what are you doing?”
The griffon frowned. “I’m giving my niece some ham. What does it look like?”
“I can see that,” Guinevere continued in a gentle voice. “But Cinnamon Roll is a pony. Ponies are vegetarians.”
The old griffon blinked in confusion. The griffoness rolled her eyes.
“She doesn’t eat meat.”
“SHE DOESN’T EAT MEAT!?”
Everybody jumped at the outburst. Gordon came running. Even Cookie and her assistants stuck their heads out of the kitchen to see what was going on. Cinnamon Roll shrunk down in her chair. After a second, though, Uncle George looked down at her and smiled.
“That’s okay,” he told her. “Wait till we have lamb!”
It was after midnight in the LeGrand mansion. Every creature was asleep in their beds. Muffled snores emanated from behind closed doors. Even Gordon the ever-vigilant butler was sound asleep in his room on the first floor. The little summoning bell he kept next to his bed remained quiet.
Upstairs in her nest, Cinnamon Roll grunted and opened her eyes. She glanced up at the window. Though the curtains were drawn she could make out the silvery light of the moon around the edges. Still nighttime, she thought as she turned over and snuggled down happily into her blanket. Her eyes were still half-open, lazily gazing at the shadows in the room. The bedside table. The tall dresser. The vanity with its oval mirror reflecting the pale light from the window.
Her eyes were slowly drooping shut when they locked on a shadow next to the bed. Her sleepy mind dismissed it. It’s just a shadow. But her eyes could not leave it. It looked...strange. It was tall and bulky looking, its top rounded. As she stared, she noticed part of the shadow appeared to be leaning against the nest. Her eyes drifted down to where the shadow met the edge of the bed. Slowly, her eyes focused on that part. What is that? There was an odd shaped lump on the edge of the nest, close to her head. She stared at it, trying to make sense of what it was. That's when it moved! It was a set of large, razor sharp talons!
Cold horror shot through her like ice water. Now fully awake she gasped and curled her body away. The figure by the bed seemed to straighten. Then she heard a hissing sound and the unmistakable sound of water hitting a flat surface.
Cinnamon Roll was no pegasus but she would have sworn she levitated to the top of the dresser. A moment later, the door flew open.
“What is going on here?” demanded Guinevere, turning on the lights. She was closely followed by Gulliand, the girls, and a hastily put together Gordon. Standing next to the nest, looking confused and a little scared, was Uncle George.
“What happened?” asked Gulliand, looking up at Cinnamon Roll.
“He-he-him!” The little filly managed to stammer as she pointed a shaking hoof at the elderly griffon. “He…he…HE TINKLED ON ME!”
Gidget examined the nest. “Tinkled?” she snickered. “More like you got hit with a fire hose!”
“Gidget, please!” Guinevere took her uncle’s arm and gently pulled him away from the nest. “Now, Uncle George, you have a bathroom in your suite. There’s no reason for you to leave your room to use the toilet.”
The old griffon shook his head. “I couldn’t find the bathroom. I looked and looked and I just couldn’t hold it anymore.”
“It’s all right, Uncle George,” Guinevere replied soothingly. “You just gave Cinnamon Roll quite a fright. Let me take you to your room and I’ll put you to bed. All right?”
The old griffon nodded. "Okay," he said quietly.
Guinevere turned to Gordon. “Do you mind…?” she asked, motioning towards the bed.
“I will take care of it, Madam.”
“Come on, Cinnamon Roll.” Gulliand stood on his back legs and gently pulled the filly down from the dresser. Her arms went around his neck and she buried her face in his chest, trembling. He held her tightly and slowly rocked her back and forth. “It’s all right, Cherie,” he crooned. “It’s all right.”
“It…it just scared me,” mumbled Cinnamon from the fluff on his chest. “Waking up and seeing that shadow over the bed.”
“Join the club, we have jackets,” muttered Gidget sarcastically.
“Uncle George gets confused really easy, especially at night,” Gigi explained. “He wanders around sometimes and gets lost. I don’t know why, but he never turns on the light.”
“Don’t ya’ll have locks on the doors?” asked Cinnamon raising her head.
Gidget and Gigi both shook their heads. “Mother had them removed when Uncle George moved in. She didn't want to risk him accidentally locking us out."
"I usually put my desk against the door at night," said Gidget, shrugging. "Doesn't necessarily keep him out, but at least he can't sneak up on me."
Cinnamon Roll nodded. Now that the shock was over she was starting to feel embarrassed. "I...I think I need a quick shower." She glanced back at Gordon who was stoically removing the soiled bedding and shivered in revulsion. "And another place to sleep."
"You can sleep with me tonight," offered Gigi, kindly. "I got plenty of room in my nest. It's also right next to Gulliand's room, if that makes you feel better."
"Don't say anything," said Gulliand pointing a warning talon at Gidget. The snarky griffoness stuck out her tongue at him. "But I will be nearby if you need me," he added, looking at Cinnamon Roll.
"Thanks, Sugar Cube."
The brown filly made her way to the bathroom. She lathered herself up, using as much soap as she could to get the smell off. After the third wash and rinse, Cinnamon had decided she could not wait. No matter what, she was moving out the next day.
“Yes, Uncle George, you eat it all the time,” replied Guinevere dismissively. Her attention was focused on the little brown filly whose head was bowed soberly over her plate of pancakes. “Moving down to the house in its current condition is out of the question, my dear! I’m afraid staying with us has given you a false sense of what Griffonstone is really like.”
“It’s rough,” said Gigi, nodding. “That area used to be pretty affluent but when the older griffons died or moved away, it fell into ruin. Mostly poor and homeless griffons hang around there now doing what they can to get by.”
“Stealing, most likely,” Gidget put in. “Can’t beg for a living in Griffonstone, you’d starve to death. And if you got into trouble, there wouldn’t be any help. Not unless you had the bits to pay for it.”
“I’m afraid they are telling the truth, Cherie,” said Gulliand, laying a claw over her hoof. “I would prefer to wait until the roof has been fixed. Are you really that determined to move there now?”
“Yes, I am,” replied Cinnamon Roll, her mouth set in a firm line.
Gulliand sighed. “Then I will go with you,” he said. “I know not to argue when your mind is made up.”
Guinevere shook her head sorrowfully. “This is all because of what happened last night with Uncle George,” she lamented. “I am so sorry, Cinnamon. Please, stay here. I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll have a special lock put on your door…”
“No, ma’am, thank you,” Cinnamon Roll gently interrupted. “I wouldn’t want you puttin’ up locks for my sake. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Uncle George because of it. Anyways… that’s not the only reason I’m ready to move out.”
“It’s not?”
Cinnamon shook her head. “I figger that if we move in down there now, that’ll save us from making the trip down every day to help with the repairs.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said Gulliand thoughtfully.
“And we could work as long as we needed to. We wouldn’t have to fly back up the mountain in the evening.”
The griffon smiled. “And with us living there, we could guard the building materials and discourage squatters from slipping in. Good thinking, Cherie!”
“Now, wait just a minute!” cried Guinevere, standing up. “Have you both forgotten that there is gaping hole in the roof? Anygriff could slip inside while you’re asleep and rob you blind or worse!”
“The stairs leading to the loft has a door,” replied Gulliand, thoughtfully. “And I’m almost positive it locks. There are also doors on the pantry and larder and we know for a fact those have locks.”
“Seriously?” said Gidget, giving them a deadpan look. “You’re gonna sleep in a pantry?”
“It could work,” replied Cinnamon Roll. “I could sleep in the pantry and Gulliand could sleep in the larder.”
“I would prefer the loft, Cherie. I don’t like tight windowless rooms," the griffon shivered. "We’re going to need beds. That old nest in the loft needs to be thrown out...”
“Gulliand!” Guinevere hissed. “You are supposed to be talking her out of this, not going along with it!”
“If I may, sir, Gaylord’s furniture is a good place to purchase new beds,” said Gordon. “That is where I commonly procure new mattresses for the household.”
“GORDON!”
“Thank you, Gordon,” said Gulliand. “I’ll be sure to check them out.”
Guinevere glared at the butler. “Yes, Gordon. Thanks a lot,” she muttered sarcastically.
“Well, this has been interesting,” said Gidget, rolling her eyes. “But since you guys have made up your minds and I don’t really care what you do, I am going to eat my pancakes before they get cold.”
“Me, too,” said Gigi, taking up her fork. “Not that I don’t care, but I really am hungry.”
Defeated, Guinevere plopped down in her chair and began sulkily poking at her food.
An hour later, Gulliand, carrying Cinnamon Roll in his arms, glided down the mountain. The butler Gordon, his arms filled with various cleaning supplies, followed close behind. The three landed in the market place at the base of the great tree. The same vendors from the previous morning were already open and hawking their wares.
“Fish! Fresh fish!”
“Meat! Chicken and pork!”
“I got eggs here! Chicken eggs fresh from the hen’s a—”
“Well, looks like we know where to go to get some of our ingredients,” Gulliand murmured to Cinnamon Roll as they wove their way through the stalls. They passed the spot where the scone baker had been, but the stall was now empty. Cinnamon Roll shivered, remembering the angry, piercing glare the griffoness had given her. All the other griffons she had met so far had either regarded her with curiosity or disinterest. The scone baker had shown open animosity. She hoped she wouldn’t run into her again.
When they reached the house, Gulliand flew up and entered through the hole in the roof. A few minutes later, he opened the door for Cinnamon and Gordon.
“House is clear,” he announced as they stepped inside. “No sign of unwanted visitors.”
“I doubted there would be, sir,” said Gordon, carefully placing the supplies on the floor. “The griffons here are poor but tend to respect the property of others.”
“You sure about that?” asked Cinnamon Roll. “My aunt told me about a griffon that visited Ponyville once and she caught her stealing an apple.”
“Petty theft is common,” replied the butler with a shrug. “But breaking and entering is quite rare. I know. I have family who live here.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” said Gulliand. “I won’t worry so much about us staying here. Now, if you could direct me to Gaylord’s, I will go about getting us some bedding.” He turned to Cinnamon. “Will you be all right here by yourself or do you wish to come along?”
“I think I’ll stay,” she replied, looking around the dusty room in distaste. “I’ll get to cleaning while you’re gone.”
“Very well, Cherie. Take care. I will be back shortly.”
Once the griffons were gone, Cinnamon Roll immediately set to work. She started by dragging the old nest out of the loft. It was old and dusty, but did not smell or appear to have vermin. Shrugging, she put it to the side until they could decide what to do with it then continued with her cleaning. Cinnamon brushed and scrubbed the walls until she swore the stones turned colors! She then tackled the floors, sweeping and mopping until they gleamed.
She moved to the dining room, giving it a desperately needed dusting followed by a good mopping. The kitchen was a little harder. Cinnamon had to open all the cabinets and scrub the insides clean. She was happy to see no evidence of rats or mice. Considering the entire city was made up of creatures who were part cat and part bird of prey, that should not have been surprising.
After finishing the last of the cabinets, Cinnamon Roll took a much-needed break. Gulliand had still not returned from the furniture store but that didn’t surprise her. From what she had seen at the lumber mill, the only thing griffons liked better than bits was haggling over them. Once she was rested, Cinnamon rose to her hooves, ready to tackle the stone floor.
“Gonna need some clean water,” she muttered to herself. Cinnamon Roll carried the bucket of dirty water to a door in the back of the kitchen that led to a back alley. Holding the door open with her back hoof, she lifted the bucket in her front hooves and threw the contents into the alley.
SPLASH!
“AAARRRGGHH! WHAT THE FLAP!”
“Oh, my gosh!” Cinnamon Roll cried out in horror. A griffoness stood in the alley, her fur and feathers soaked in dirty mop water. “I am so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there…”
“YOU STUPID DWEEB!” the griffoness roared. Water flew as the enraged hen violently tossed her head. “WHAT THE FLAP DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”
“I-I-I’m sorry!” cried Cinnamon. “I didn’t see you there. I didn’t mean…” The little filly’s voice trailed off when she saw the griffoness’s face and recognized the heliotrope coloring around the eyes. It was the angry-eyed scone baker from the day before! Oh, dear!
“OH, IT’S YOU!” the griffoness snarled. “THE STUPID PONY WITH THE STUCK-UP RICH JERKS! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST THROW DIRTY WATER ON ME AND GET AWAY WITH IT?”
Cinnamon Roll gulped as the irate hen stepped closer. “I-I didn’t mean to! I didn’t see you there-“ Close the door! Close it now! “I-I am so sorry—” She stepped back from the door and slid a hoof behind it. “Really, I am! Sorry…”
THUNK! The griffoness’ talon shot out, holding the door in place. “NO BODY DOES THAT TO ME AND FLIES OFF! I’M GONNA—”
“KNOCK IT OFF, GILDA!”
The irate hen paused. Standing behind her was another griffoness. She was slightly smaller with white head feathers and pale green markings around her eyes.
“Stay outta this, Greta!” the angry hen snarled.
“I saw the whole thing! The pony didn’t do it on purpose. And she said she was sorry. Let it go.”
“OWL DUNG!” the griffoness named Gilda screeched. “YOU DON’T KNOW PONIES LIKE I DO. THEY DO STUFF LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME! THEY THINK IT’S FUNNY! WELL, I’M GONNA SHOW THIS ONE 'FUNNY'!”
“Gilda,” the other hen’s voice dropped lower. “Do you know who this pony works for?”
“No,” Gilda spat defensively.
“She’s with the LeGrand’s, that rich, stuck-up diplomat family,” Greta informed her. “I know, because I saw her this morning with that hoity-toity butler of theirs following her around like a lap dog.”
“Excuse me?” cried Cinnamon Roll, taking offence at Gordon being called a “lap dog”. She was about to say more when she saw Greta motioning for her to stay quiet.
“So what?” snarled Gilda. She was turned towards Greta but her talon still held the door open. “Because they’re rich, they think they can walk all over us?”
“You forget that Old Lady LeGrand owns most of the property on this side of town.”
“So? I don’t rent from her!”
“No, but she could fix it so you can’t sell your scones in the market!” snapped Greta, rolling her eyes. “Where would you be then? No bits to pay the rent. No bits to buy food. No bits to get yourself outta this dump!”
The larger griffoness winced like she had been struck. Greta pressed on.
“It was a mistake. The pony apologized. I’m sure it won’t happen again,” she added, looking at Cinnamon very hard.
The filly took the hint. “I-I will be more careful next time. I promise.”
“You better be,” growled Gilda. She snatched her talon back from the door. “Just stay outta my way pony!”
Cinnamon Roll nodded in reply. The angry griffoness stalked away, still grumbling under her breath. The little filly turned to Greta.
“Thank you for your help,” she said.
“I didn’t do it for you, pony,” Greta snapped, turning her back on Cinnamon. “I’m just looking out for my friend,” she added over her shoulder.
Cinnamon Roll closed the door, locked it, then, her trembling legs no longer able to support her, slid to the floor.
“Sweet baby Luna!” she breathed.
Gulliand checked the time and cursed. He had been gone a lot longer than he planned. The furniture sales griffon had insisted on haggling with him over the price. Then the delivery griffon had to haggle with him over the delivery fee. Then he had to haggle with the porter griffon who was bringing their things down from the mansion! He wished he had not been so quick to send Gordon home that morning. He was sure the old butler would have done a better job than he.
Quickly, he made his way through the market, closely followed by a burly drake pulling a cart containing two nests and mattresses.
“So, you’re rentin’ the old MacPhearsome place,” the delivery griffon grunted as they stopped in front of the house. “’Bout time somegriff moved in.”
“My grandmother is letting me have it,” replied Gulliand. He tried to open the door but found it locked. “I’m planning on turning it into a restaurant soon.”
The porter chuffed. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
Gulliand knocked on the door. “Cinnamon Roll! Can you hear me? Cinnamon Roll!”
For a moment there was no answer. Gulliand was about fly up to the hole in the roof when he heard the lock click and the door swing open.
“Cherie! Why was the door—”
“Gulliand!”
The griffon grunted as the little filly threw her arms around him and buried her face into his feathery neck. His arms went around her at once. He could feel her trembling. The delivery griffon looked at them strangely but did not say anything. Gulliand waited until Cinnamon Roll had calmed down before asking. “What is it? What happened, Cherie?”
“There was this griffoness,” Cinnamon Roll said, her face still buried in his feathers. “I was throwin’ out the mop water and I accidently threw it on her. I apologized but she wouldn’t listen. She was so angry, I thought she would…”
“What did she look like?”
“White head with kinda lavender markings around her eyes,” Cinnamon sniffled. “I remember seeing her selling scones in the market yesterday.”
“That would be Gilda,” said the delivery griffon grimly. Gulliand and Cinnamon looked at him questioningly. “She’s the only scone seller around here. She’s got a bad temper and she really, really hates ponies.”
Cinnamon’s jaw dropped. “What? Why?”
The griffon shrugged. “I don’t really know. I heard her folks sent her to some flight camp when she was little and she ended up makin’ friends with some pony. She went to visit years later and came back madder than a dragon with a toothache. Never went to Equestria again.”
“That’s awful!”
The griffon shrugged again. “It is what it is. Say, where you want these nests? I’m on the clock here.”
“Put them down in that front room,” Gulliand ordered. “We’ll move them ourselves.” He turned back to Cinnamon Roll. “Are you still sure about staying here, Cherie? What if she comes back?”
“I don’t think she will,” replied Cinnamon after a moment. “There was another griffoness with her who talked her down. She said something about your grandmother keeping her from selling her scones in the market if she didn’t leave me alone. That really seemed to worry her.”
“It ought to,” said Gulliand grimly. “Grandmother owns most of the space in the market and keeps the rent low to prevent the competition from stealing clients. I could get her banned if you want.”
Cinnamon Roll considered for a moment. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to keep her from making a livin’. I don’t think she’ll come after me.”
“Very well, Cherie,” replied Gulliand. “I will let it go. But if she threatens you again, I will take action.”
“Got the beds in the front room,” the delivery griffon announced. “By the way, you want that old nest? It’s still in good condition.”
“No, you can have it.”
The burly griffon grinned like a colt on Hearth’s Warming. “Sweet!”
After he left, the two moved the nests into their respective rooms. Later that evening, Cinnamon prepared for sleep in her secure little room. She lay across her bed, excited about her first night in their very own house yet tired from a hard day of work. She thought about the angry griffoness and wondered what could have happened to make her so bitter against ponies. After a while, her mind slowed down. She turned on her side, breathing in the comforting apple scent of her sheets, and fell fast asleep
Cinnamon Roll awoke in the pitch-black dark. Was the sun up yet? Where was the window? Then she remembered. I'm sleeping in the pantry! There is no window in the pantry.
Carefully, the filly rolled out of bed and groped her way to the door. I really need a lamp in here, she thought as she unlocked the door.
The kitchen was gray in the morning light, a faint yellow glow coming from one of the windows. Cinnamon pulled the curtain aside and took a look outside. The streets and skies were devoid of griffons. So, Gulliand wasn’t the only one who liked to sleep in.
Quietly, she put on the kettle for coffee. Cookie had made them a care package and sent it via Gordon the previous evening. It included eggs, bacon, a bag of potatoes, an onion, and a whole coffee cake wrapped in wax paper. The filly smiled at the crotchety cook’s generosity. She wrapped the cake in a clean towel and laid it on the stove to warm. After that, there was nothing to do but wait.
She sat at the little dining table and idly admired the space. The stone walls gave the room a warm rustic charm while the high ceiling kept it from feeling claustrophobic. There had once been a fireplace in the wall that separated the living space from the huge room on the other side, but it had been sealed up and replaced with a pot-bellied stove. Cinnamon wondered why the owners had done away with such a nice feature. Perhaps, they could add opening up the fireplace to their fix list.
The little filly sighed. Except for the hiss of the kettle in the kitchen, everything was quiet. She missed the sounds of morning. When she lived with her folks, there had always been some kind of racket: Applespike running down the stairs, her parents talking in the kitchen, Granny pulling out her skillet for breakfast pancakes. The college dormitory hadn’t been quiet either. Fillies could be heard trotting to the bathroom, arguing over the mirror, or dashing down the stairs for an early breakfast. Even the LeGrand mansion, though it tried to stay quiet in the morning, had its noises. Gordon opening the front door to retrieve the mail, the maids muttering as they went about their duties, Cookie’s muffled voice giving orders.
Sitting in the quiet house, she felt lonely and just a bit homesick.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
Cinnamon started at the banging on the front door. Who could it be this early? Surely not the lumber mill griffins! Maybe it was Gordon bringing something they had forgotten. Or maybe, she gulped, that bully of a scone baker coming back to finish business!
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
Cinnamon quietly approached the door. Standing on her back legs, she opened the little peep window and peered out. Suddenly a turquoise eye appeared in the window,
“HI, THERE!”
“AHH!” Cinnamon fell backwards, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare you! I’m just so excited! I heard that a pony had moved into Griffonstone and I just had to see for myself!” The eye in the window darted around. “You must be really short, I can’t see you!”
“I’m on the floor,” said Cinnamon, dryly.
“The floor?” The eye aimed down to where she sat. “Oh, I see you! Heeeey!”
“Hello,” Cinnamon waved half-heartedly.
“I have a package for a Cinnamon Roll Apple-Dragon. Is that you?”
“Well, yes!” replied the filly, rising to her hooves. “I’m Cinnamon Roll!”
“I figured you were! All the griffs around her have names that start with G but you’re named for a pastry and a fruit which is how ponies do their names! The only thing I don’t get is the Dragon part. What is that about?”
Cinnamon Roll chuckled. “I’ll explain,” she said as she unlocked the door. She was no longer afraid. The griffon had called her by her full name which no one except the LeGrands knew. That and the excited happy voice reminded her of Pinkie Pie and the Tri-Pies.
She opened the door revealing a blue-ish gray griffoness with dark gray wings. She was the same height as Cinnamon Roll and seemed to be about the same age.
“Oh, wow!” cried the griffoness as she gazed at Cinnamon, her eyes shining with excitement. “I can’t believe I’m meeting a real, live pony! I love your mane! And your Cutie Mark! The mark of a pony’s destiny!” She squinted at the mark on the filly’s flank. “What is that? Some kind of white pizza or something?”
“It’s a cinnamon roll,” the little filly laughed. “Like my name. How do you know about Cutie Marks?”
“Oh, I’m a BIG fan of The Cutie Mark Crusaders!” the griffoness gushed. “I heard their song Finding Your Mark about how hard they had worked to find their special talents and get their cutie marks! I thought it was so awesome! I sometimes wished I could get a cutie mark so maybe I would know what my destiny is…but I think I like being a mail carrier. I like bringing packages and letters to griffs. I think it makes them happy.”
“Speaking of which, didn’t you say you had a package for me?”
“Oh, yes!” The griffoness reached into a large satchel she had slung over her back and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. “It’s addressed to the LeGrand mansion, but when I went up there this morning, the butler told me you had moved into the old McPhearsome place so I came here and there you were! Good thing you’re an early riser. I’d hate to wake you up.”
“Thank you,” said Cinnamon, taking the package. She was not surprised to see it was from Ponyville, the address written in her Ma’s hoofwriting. She smirked when she noticed it was postmarked the day that she had left for Griffonstone. She could imagine Applejack and Spike racing to get home and baking up a storm just to get the package out to her before the post office closed that day.
The gray griffoness pressed her talons to her chin in growing excitement. “Oh, it made you happy and you haven’t even opened it yet! How wonderful!”
“It’s a care package from my folks,” Cinnamon explained. She pulled off the twine and carefully removed the paper. “They did this for me the whole time I was in college. Ooooooooooh!”
The filly cooed in delight as she opened the box, revealing a bag of Applejack’s oatmeal apple-cinnamon cookies and a jar of Granny's apple butter. Lying on top was a fat yellow envelope with a message scrawled on it.
"Dear Cinnamon Roll,
We hope you are doing fine. Your Pa and I were a little worried you might get homesick so we sent you some food to make you feel better. Your Pa wanted to include a jar of his Apple Soup but we worried it might go bad before it reached you so we sent some apple butter instead.
After we got home, we started going through the family cookbooks and found some recipes you might like to try. Your Pa copied them down (gave himself a claw cramp doing it so fast) and we put them in this envelope. It's got all your favorites and then some! Since Gulliand was so taken with Granny's hoecakes we included some cornflour recipes as well.
We hope you two are doing well. Please make sure to write back, baby! We miss you!
Your loving Ma, Applejack."
"It's good news, isn't it?" asked the griffoness, her fists balled up under her chin and her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can tell by the way your face is shining! This is so great! I finally get to see someone be happy because of what I do!"
Cinnamon Roll smiled, touched that her happiness meant so much to the griffoness.
"Would you like to come in?" she asked. "I've got some coffee brewin' and some coffee cake warmin' on the stove if ya want any."
The griffon's eyes widened in surprise. "You-you're inviting me in? For coffee?"
"Of course I am! You seem like a nice creature Miss... Uh..."
"Gabriella! But everyone calls me Gabby!"
"Okay, Gabby. You seem like a nice creature and I could stand some company this morning. Unless you had something else you needed to do..."
"Oh, no! I don't have anything else yet!” Gabby replied hastily. "I don't make my rounds until later. I just saw your package at the post office and couldn't wait to deliver it!
"Well, come on in and sit awhile!" Cinnamon guided the excited Gabby to the sitting room table. In the kitchen, the kettle was already whistling. "I'll fix you a cup. Do you like sugar and milk with your coffee?"
"Oh, yes! Please!"
"Okay." Cinnamon set out a small bowl of sugar cubes and a little pitcher of milk. She then brought out a pair of mugs her Ma had given her when she first started school and set them on the table. Gabby cooed in delight as she admired the cups.
"Aw! They have little apples on them! How cute!" The griffoness’ downy neck feathers stood on end. "I just love cute things! They make me feel all fluffy inside!"
Cinnamon Roll poured the coffee then fetched the cake from the stove. It was nice and warm. Despite her childlike excitement, Gabby displayed good manners and did not grab or scarf down her food, nor did she talk with her mouth full. She hummed delightedly over the cake and savored the fresh coffee.
"This cake is wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Did you bake it?”
Cinnamon Roll shook her head. “No, the LeGrand’s cook made this for us.”
“Wow! Next time you see old Grizzy tell her she did a great job.
Cinnamon Roll froze. "Grizzy?" she asked.
"Well, her real name is Grizelda but everyone calls her Grizzy. Unless they’re mad at her then they call her Grizzly! She used to live down on the end branch until she went to work for the LeGrands as a cook.” Gabby sighed. “No one in the neighborhood could fry a chicken like her!"
"Oh," said Cinnamon, sipping from her cup. Grizelda? She thought. No wonder she goes by Cookie!
"So," said Gabby, wiping her beak before leaning in slightly. "Why is your last name Apple-Dragon? Are you part-dragon like a kirin? You don't look like it."
"No," the filly laughed. "My older brother and I were adopted by Applejack and Spike the Dragon. Ma and Pa hyphenated their last name when they got married. A few years after they adopted us, Ma had my little brother Applespike. Now, he really is half-pony-half-dragon. He breathes fire...which comes in handy when you're havin' a snowball fight!"
Gabby's eyes went wide. "Wow! That is so cool! I don't have any siblings. I'm an only chick." She let out a dreamy sigh. "Sometimes I like to pretend my two roommates are my sisters, but they always yell at me to cut out the sappy talk whenever I mention it.”
Cinnamon gave the griffoness a sympathetic look. Gabby sighed but immediately perked up again.
“So, you’re living here in the old McPhearsome house? That is great! This place has been empty for a long time so it’s nice to see it being lived in again!”
“Do you know much about the history of this place?” asked Cinnamon. “I would like to learn more about it.”
“Oh, yeah!” Gabby nodded vigorously. “ Almost everygriff knows about the McPhearsome house! What would you like to know?’
“Well,” said Cinnamon, thinking for a moment. “Why is it called the McPhearsome house?”
“Okay! The house was built by Gregor McPhearsome. His ancestors fought in the war against the ponies of Equestria over a thousand years ago. It’s said one of his ancestors was gravely wounded while trying to fight Princess Luna in close combat!”
“Wow,” Cinnamon gasped, unable to imagine anyone with the courage (or stupidity) to do such a thing. “So, was Gregor McPhearsome a warrior like his ancestors?”
Gabby shook her head. “No. The Griffon army’s been disbanded ever since the Idol of Boreas was stolen and the Kingdom fell into depression. Mr. McPhearsome was a really wealthy griffon. He owned a lot of property in Griffonstone, especially around the market. He could have moved up the mountain to that plateau where the really wealthy have their mansions, but he chose to live here. The rich griffs made fun of him, but he didn’t care. I think he just liked it here.”
“I understand,” Cinnamon Roll nodded. “I know a lot of ponies back home who have the money to live somewhere fancy, but they choose to stay in Ponyville.”
“He built this house himself,” Gabby continued. “He had enough to pay somegriff to do it but he insisted on doing it himself. He trained to be a stonemason so he could learn how!” She looked around at the stone walls, smiling in admiration. “This is one of the best houses in Griffonstone! It even has a slate roof!”
“We noticed,” said Cinnamon Roll wryly. “Be nice if that part had been covered in slate, too,” she nodded toward the huge room with the hole in the roof. “Then we wouldn’t have to replace all that wood.”
“Yeah, that’s a sad story,” said the griffoness, suddenly turning glum. “Mr. McPhearsome built this house not long before he got married. It was small but he promised his wife he’d build an addition once they had children. A few years later, his wife gave birth to two little griffs so Mr. McPhearsome got started on the new room.
Well, according to Grandpa Gruff, that was the year a deadly pox was going around. The older griffons had some immunity to it since it had been around before, but a lot of the younger griffs weren’t so lucky.” Gabby shuddered. “It was awful! My Mom had it when she was a kid. She survived but she said that was the worst she had ever felt in her life. McPhearsome’s children caught it and…they were so young, their little bodies just couldn’t fight it off, so they…died.”
“Oh, no!” Cinnamon Roll gasped.
The griffoness nodded sadly. “He and his wife took it hard. They never had any more kids and McPhearsome gave up on the extra room. He just put up a roof and laid some thatch over it and left it. I think he tried to fix it up for the Blue Moon Festival one year, but that was it. He and his wife lived here alone until they passed away from extreme old age. They say the wife passed first and then McPhearsome died shortly after so they stayed together even after death.”
Cinnamon sniffed, tears rolling down her cheeks at this bittersweet tale. She picked up a napkin to wipe her eyes. “That,” she choked. “That is beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is,” Gabby sighed. “I hope I can find someone I wouldn’t mind growing old with. Anyway, after they passed away their relatives sold the house to Old Lady LeGrand. She already owns a lot of the market, so her getting it was no surprise. Everygriff thought she might tear it down just to make way for more market stalls. It’s great to know someone is living in it now!”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Cinnamon, smiling again. She was about to say more when a loud thump from upstairs made them jump.
“What was that?” cried Gabby, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. “Do you have a roommate? I hope you have a roommate because it’s either that or the house is haunted!”
The filly burst out laughing. “No, that’s just my roommate. I’m surprised he’s up so early, though. Usually, he’s a late riser.”
The griffoness’ eyebrows raised. “He?” she asked.
“My fiance,” replied Cinnamon Roll. “We decided to move in here before we got married so we could get our new business going.”
“Oh,” said Gabby, “I meant to ask you what you were doing in Griffonstone! What kind of business is it?”
“We want to open a restaurant. A regular sit down, fine dining restaurant. My fiance and I are both trained chefs and it was his dream to open a restaurant here in Griffonstone.”
“REALLY?” Gabby’s eyes opened wide, shining with glee. “You mean like one of those big, fancy restaurants in the magazines the rich griffs read? THAT kind of restaurant?”
“Well,” Cinnamon hesitated, remembering the bland, uninteresting food that usually was touted in “sophisticated” magazines. “Maybe not that fancy, but definitely with a nice look and excellent food. We’re both big believers in good tasting food.”
“Oooooooooo! I can’t wait for you to start!” the griffoness’ feathers fluffed until she looked like a gray, fresh hatched chick. “And you can count on me to spread the word! A real restaurant in Griffonstone! I’m so excited! OH! By the way, may I use your bathroom? That coffee went straight through me.”
“Sure. The bathroom is through that door next to the stairs.”
“Thanks," The griffoness quickly slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Cinnamon Roll went into the kitchen and set a skillet on the stove to heat. She knew Gulliand would want more than coffee cake for breakfast. She brought out the eggs and peeled off several slices of bacon. She heard the stairs creak as Gulliand descended. A moment later he poked his head into the kitchen. His eyes were barely open and his head feathers were all askew.
“Good morning, Cherie,” he managed to say before yawning loudly.
“Mornin’, Sugarcube,” replied Cinnamon Roll. She sprinkled a little water into the pan to see if it was heating properly. “You’re up mighty early. You have trouble sleepin’?”
Gulliand shook his head. “No, I slept well. I just thought it might be a good idea to be awake in case the griffons from the lumber mill show up. I also thought I would scout the market for some ingredients for my chicken parmesan recipe. That might sell well enough to drum up some interest.”
“That sounds good,” Cinnamon nodded. “I might be able to make some cakes we can sell, too.”
“That would be lovely.” Gulliand slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his fluffy chest. He nuzzled her cheek before giving her ear a playful nip. Cinnamon squeaked.
“Gulliand!” she giggled as she wriggled in his embrace.
“What?” he purred. “Can I help it if you look beautiful in the kitchen?”
Cinnamon turned to face him. “Flatterer!” she murmured.
Gulliand grinned down at her. “It’s working.” He leaned in for a kiss.
“GREAT GROVER’S GHOST!”
Gulliand jumped backwards with a roaring screech almost knocking Cinnamon to the floor. He turned to face a gray feathered griffoness who was staring at them with wide outraged eyes. “WHAT THE FLAP?”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!” the griffoness cried, pointing a talon at Gulliand. “GET OUTTA HERE YOU HOMEWRECKER!”
Gulliand bristled. “I BEG YOUR PARDON?”
“HER FIANCE IS GONNA BE DOWN ANY MINUTE! IT’LL BE TARTARUS IF HE CATCHES YOU!”
“Wait, Gabby!” cried Cinnamon Roll, trying to intervene.
“AND CINNAMON!” the griffoness turned on the filly. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD CHEAT ON YOUR FIANCE LIKE THIS! I THOUGHT PONIES WERE BETTER THAN THAT!”
“EXCUSE ME?” Gulliand bellowed.
“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? GET OUT BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”
“WHAT THE–?”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!”
Both griffons shut their beaks and stared in surprise at Cinnamon Roll. Neither had expected such a loud bellow from such a little filly. Having gained their attention, Cinnamon took a calming breath then let it out slowly before speaking in her normal voice.
“I think introductions are in order. Gulliand,” she gestured to their guest. “This is Gabby, the mail griffon. She brought me a package this morning and I invited her in for coffee.” She turned to Gabby. “Gabby, this is Gulliand LeGrand. He is my fiance.”
The gray griffoness’ mouth slowly fell open as this information sank in.
“Oh. My. Gosh!” she whispered, the feathers on her cheeks turning pink. “W-when you said you had a fiance, I thought you were talking about a pony. I never expected him to be a griffon!”
“Oops!” Cinnamon rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess I should have been more clear about that.”
Gabby turned to face Gulliand. “Sorry I yelled at you,” she said, meekly. “No hard feelings, I hope.”
“None at all,” replied Gulliand with a bow. “It was an honest mistake.”
The griffoness’ eyes widened in delight. “Wow! You’re really nice! Most griffons would have chased me off after that! Wait! Didn’t you say your last name’s LeGrand?”
“I did not say it, but yes, it is.”
“So, you’re related to Old Lady– I mean, Georgina LeGrand?”
Gulliand nodded. “She is my grandmother.”
“Oh! I know who you are!” cried Gabby, snapping her claws. “You’re the son of Augustus LeGrand, the diplomat! You lived in Maris for a while, then moved to Canterlot a few years ago!”
Gulliand looked surprised. “Um, yes. But how did you know that?”
“You’re letters, silly!” replied Gabby with a giggle. “I’m the mail carrier here in Griffonstone. I delivered all your letters to the mansion and picked up all your family’s letters going out. I never opened them, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just read the addresses and admired the stamps. The ones from Prance were so pretty, like little paintings in the corner of the envelope!”
“I remember those,” said Gulliand, smiling. “They were from a special series of stamps featuring the work of Cloud Moneigh. I’m glad someone appreciated them.”
Cinnamon Roll turned back to the stove as the two conversed. This time the pan sizzled when she sprinkled it with water indicating it was ready. Carefully, she laid the bacon inside the skillet then pulled out the eggs to fry later in the grease. The strips sizzled and popped filling the air in the kitchen with the rich fatty smell.
“Bacon?” cried Gabby, peering over her shoulder. “You’re really frying bacon? I didn’t know ponies could cook meat!”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” replied Cinnamon Roll with a giggle. “Gulliand’s Uncle Gustave was my professor at the college. He taught me how to do it.”
Gabby gasped. “You’ve met Gustave LeGrand, the famous eclair baker?” She glanced at Gulliand who was giving her a reproachful look. “OH! Right! He’s your dad’s brother! Sorry, I got so excited I forgot for a minute.”
“That’s all right. Would you care to stay and have breakfast with us? Since Cinnamon doesn’t eat bacon there should be plenty to go around.”
“R-really?” the griffoness’ eyes shone and her voice hitched with emotion. “You’re inviting me to eat…bacon with you?”
Cinnamon Roll and Gulliand nodded. Gabby wiped her eyes with the back of her talon. It was clear she was overcome with emotion. “Thank you so much!”
Cinnamon felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She had never met someone like Gabby who could be moved to tears by a simple invitation to eat. Despite the warnings from the LeGrands and having seen firsthoof what the griffons were like, Gabby’s reactions to their hospitality really drove home how terrible living in Griffonstone could be.
Gulliand guided their guest to the table before returning to the kitchen to assist Cinnamon with the eggs. His nimble talons made quick work of the eggs without leaving a single shell. He sighed as he looked over their meager rations.
“If we had cheese and green onions, I would make an omelette,” he murmured, low. “It would be nice if we could show our guest what we can do.”
“Maybe once we get some groceries, we can invite her back,” replied Cinnamon Roll, giving him a nuzzle. “She’s a purty sweet girl. She reminds me of Aunt Pinkie Pie.”
“Sacre Bleu Cheese!” Gulliand shuddered. “Celestia help us all!” The two dissolved into giggles.
Soon everything was done and a platter of fresh scrambled eggs and crispy bacon was laid on the table. Gabby, being the guest, was served first. Her eyes closed in utter bliss as she took that first bite of bacon.
“Mmmmmm!” she purred. “This is sooooo good! Absolutely purrrrfect!”
“Thank you,” said Cinnamon modestly. As the three ate, Gulliand explained his vision of a restaurant to Gabby. The little griffoness listened in rapt attention. When he mentioned needing to find suppliers, she gave him a list of possible vendors. Being the town’s main mail carrier, she knew all about the different businesses in Griffonstone and who would most likely have the best products. Gulliand fetched a pen and paper and wrote down the information. “So, Gerry has chicken and eggs, and Gerome has beef and pork. Does anyone have lamb?”
“No sheep. But Gill has some goats,” replied Gabby. “The goats do better in the mountains.”
Gulliand nodded. “What about fruits and vegetables? Wheat products? Flour?”
“Ginny runs a General Store at the far end of the market. She has good flour and spices. She doesn’t haggle though. She tells you a price, that’s her price and she’s not going down on it. As for veggies, well, that depends. We have plenty of potatoes, carrots, and turnips but green veggies like beans, cabbage, and lettuce have to be shipped in.”
“What about fruits?” asked Cinnamon. “Like apples?”
“There are a few fruit trees down in the valley,” replied Gabby. “They grow wild. No griff owns them, so it’s first come, first serve. Oh, we also have some nut trees! Those grow wild, too.”
Cinnamon grinned. “That sounds good to me. Are there any pecans?”
Gabby looked at the filly in confusion. “Uh, we don’t use cans. We griffs have indoor plumbing.”
Cinnamon blushed blood red as Gulliand laughed so hard he rolled on the floor. “Oh, hush!” she said, hitting him with a napkin. The filly turned to Gabby who was watching the couple with a puzzled look. “I mean, are there any pe-cahns?”
“Oh! Yes! Yes, there are!” Gabby giggled. “Sorry, I’ve never heard them called….that!”
“It’s all right.” Cinnamon rolled her eyes at Gulliand who was still lying on the floor trying to contain his giggles. “I hope you wet yourself!” she told him as she took a sip of coffee.
Gabby giggled. “Then maybe he could use a pee-can!”
PFFFFT! Coffee sprayed across the table. “Dog-gone it, Gabby!”
Gulliand doubled over in renewed laughter. “Oh, Sacre Bleu Cheese!” he managed to gasp. “You-you remind me of my sister, Gidget!”
It took awhile before the three were able to resume their breakfast without choking with laughter. Soon the morning sun was shining bright, making the room glow with a soft golden light. Gabby quickly wiped her beak with a napkin and stood up from the table.
“Time for me to go,” she said. “I got mail to deliver! It was so nice meeting you two! Thank you for the food and I’ll be sure to spread the word about your restaurant!”
“We appreciate it,” replied Cinnamon Roll. “Stop by anytime you feel like company!”
“I will! Thanks!” And with that, the little griffoness took off out the door.
“Well, she was quite delightful,” remarked Gulliand. “I haven’t enjoyed myself like that in quite a while. And she was very helpful, he added, tapping the paper with his notes on it. “Now, I know where to go for our supplies.”
“Wonderful!” Cinnamon Roll gathered up the dishes and put them in the sink to wash.
It had been a lovely morning, she admitted to herself. Gabby had been just the little ray of sunshine she needed to dispel her fear and gloom. She was glad that despite how distant or even hostile the occupants of this town were, there was at least one friendly griffon.
The griffons from the lumber mill did not come that day but Gordon flew in later that afternoon bearing a basket filled with carrots, celery, and spinach.
“Madame Guinevere worried you might not find any fresh vegetables for Miss Cinnamon,” he told Gulliand. “So she had Cookie pack a basket of things she thought a pony might eat.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gordon!” said Cinnamon Roll, unpacking the basket. “And please tell Miss Guinevere and Cookie I said thanks, too!”
“Speaking of Mother, how is she?” asked Gulliand. “Is she still unhappy about us moving down here so soon?”
“I am afraid so, sir,” replied Gordon with a sigh. “I have tried to reassure her that you and Miss Cinnamon are quite safe, but she is still very worried about you. She is also very put out with me for supporting your decision. She is being very…cold towards me.” Cinnamon raised an eyebrow when she noticed a forlorn look flicker across the butler’s face before his usual stoic facade returned. “It will pass, however.” he said airily. “It always does.”
“You know her best,” conceded Gulliand. “Thank you.”
After the butler left, Gulliand took command of the kitchen. Cinnamon did not mind being pushed out. It had been a few days since the griffon had been allowed to cook anything and she knew his talons were itching to make something delicious for the two of them. She quietly took a backseat and hoofed him the ingredients as he called for them. Before sunset a pot of hearty potato soup was bubbling on the stove. Cinnamon allowed herself to be seated at the table as the griffon served her a brimming bowl full.
“Mmm!” she hummed happily as she took a sip. “You are still a wonder in the kitchen, Sugarcube.”
“Merci,” nodded Gulliand as he added some crumbled bacon to his bowl of soup. He took a bite and smiled contentedly. They ate in silence for a while before the griffon added “I am going grocery shopping tomorrow. Do you wish to come with me or would you prefer to stay here?”
Cinnamon Roll swallowed. “I'd like to come with you. I’m gettin’ tired of being cooped up in the house and I’d like to see what they got for sale in the market.”
Gulliand nodded. “I will check with the lumber mill in the morning then we can go. I am anxious to meet these griffons Gabby mentioned and see what they have to offer.”
The next morning, Gulliand rose early to meet with the griffons at the lumber mill. He was rather annoyed when he found out they hadn’t even started on the lumber order yet.
“But they had some oak there when we visited the other day,” cried Cinnamon Roll when he broke the news. “I assumed that was what they’d be deliverin’!”
“I said the same,” said Gulliand with a sigh. “The manager told me ‘Well, it doesn’t pay to assume, does it?’ All that oak was for another order. Apparently one of my mother's neighbors is getting a new pergola.”
The filly closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “So, did they say when they’ll have our order ready?”
“Two weeks. They have to fetch some fresh oak from the forest then cut it into beams.”
“I see,” Cinnamon sighed. ”Oh, well. It is what it is. So, you ready to go shoppin’?”
The morning sun was shining warmly as the two stepped out, their saddlebags strapped firmly to their sides. It was a Friday and the vendors were out in force.
“Fish! Get your filets here!”
“Chicken! Whole or cut up!”
“Fresh beef! Prime steaks or ground beef!”
“So, where do you want to go first?” asked Cinnamon.
“Let’s stop by that general store Gabby told us about,” replied Gulliand after a moment. “We will definitely be needing flour and sugar before long.”
The store was located at the far end of the market, on a street furthest from the great tree. The building was not very big, about the same size as Sugarcube Corner, but it was very solid, made of logs and firmly chinked with thick plaster. The roof was covered with thick cedar shingles and appeared to be in good repair. It was obvious the owner cared about their business and had the bits to keep it up.
A cowbell over the door clanged loudly as they stepped inside. There was a muffled crash like several cardboard boxes falling over at once followed by some equally muffled swearing.
“Gimmee a minute!” a female voice yelled.
“Okay!” Cinnamon Roll called back. “Take your time!”
“Sacre Bleu Cheese,” Gulliand murmured next to her. “Look at this place!”
Cinnamon looked around. Despite its size, the store was stuffed from floor to rafters with goods. A rack loaded with bottles of spice stood against the nearest wall along with shelves dedicated to a variety of salts and peppers. There were boxes of cream of tartar, baking powder, baking soda, as well as bottles of vanilla and other flavorings. Barrels of flour, sugar, and cornmeal formed aisles while wrapped salt pork hung from the rafters like Hearth’s Warming ornaments. There were also stacks of canned foods from Equestria and the Griffon kingdom. Gulliand looked longingly at some tall cans of salmon.
“I could really go for a nice quiche,” he murmured plaintively.
Cinnamon gave him an affectionate shove. “Knock yourself out, Sugarcube.”
“Okay, okay, I’m here!” A griffoness with dark yellow feathers and leopard spotted fur strode into the room. She stopped short when she caught sight of Cinnamon Roll, her green eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Wadda you want, pony?” she asked brusquely.
“Mornin’” replied Cinnamon Roll politely. She was getting used to this kind of greeting. “We just needed to pick up some supplies and heard that this was the best place to get them.”
The griffoness lifted an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
“Gabby, the mail carrier.”
“Pfft!” the store owner rolled her eyes. “Of course she would. She also tell you that I don’t haggle over my prices? You wanna haggle, you go someplace else!”
“Yes, she told us.” Cinnamon assured her. “Which is fine with me. I don’t like hagglin’ much.”
“Whatever,” the griffoness sighed as if resigned to something unpleasant. “So whaddya want? I ain’t got all day!”
“I have a list,” said Gulliand, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his saddlebag. “We’re going to need some flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, pepper, oregano, basil, cinnamon…”
“Just gimme the list!” the griffoness snapped. She snatched the list and quickly perused the columns. “Yeah, I got all this stuff except for the fresh meat and vegetables. The flour and sugar I sell by the pound. The other stuff is by the box or bottle.”
“That’s fine, Madam,” Gulliand assured her.
“Name’s Ginny. And here,” she thrust a pair of large baskets at them. Like the store building, they were well made, solidly woven and stitched. “Fill those up and bring ‘em to the counter when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” replied Gulliand. He turned to Cinnamon. “Come on, Cherie. Let’s get started.”
Over the next hour or so, the two managed to fill both baskets to the brim with a wide variety of herbs and spices along with boxes of different salts. They laid their loaded baskets on the counter, picked up two more baskets and resumed their shopping. Cinnamon perused the bottles of extracts, filling her basket with whatever flavor she thought she might need, while Gulliand picked up the cans of baking powder, soda, and yeast. Ginny watched the two, seemingly unimpressed by the growing mountain of merchandise on her counter.
“Well, I think that’s it,” said Cinnamon Roll as she laid her brimming basket next to the pile. She turned to Gulliand. “Can you think of anything else, Sugarcube?”
“Just sugar and flour,” he replied, placing his basket beside hers. He turned to the stone-faced griffoness. “You said the sugar and flour are sold by the pound. How much for a whole barrel?”
“One hundred bits for a barrel of flour,” she told him. “One hundred twenty-five for a barrel of sugar.”
Gulliand winced but Cinnamon just nodded. “That sounds about right, considering shippin’ costs and all.”
“If you say so, Cherie. But before we pay for the barrels I would like to examine the contents, please.”
The griffoness’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are you implying?” she growled.
Gulliand shrugged. “I just wish to make sure the contents meet my standards.”
“Pfft! Fine!” Ginny reached under the counter and pulled out a crowbar. “But I’ll have you know, I take pride in what I sell!” She pried off the lid of the closest barrel. “Here, see for yourself!”
Cinnamon and Gulliand leaned in to look. The barrel was full of soft, powdery flour. The little filly took a deep breath and smelled the familiar wheaty smell. The griffon stirred the contents with a wooden scoop then sprinkled some on his hand. He felt the texture, sniffed it, then tasted it.
“It’s good,” he nodded.
They did the same with the sugar. Not only was it good, but it was pure cane sugar! Perfect for making cakes and frostings!
“Told you,” Ginny grumbled, tamping the lids back down with her fist. “You won’t catch me passin’ off Plaster of Maris for flour or sand for sugar!”
“My apologies, Madam Ginny,” Gulliand bowed his head. “Now, how much for all of this?”
“Let’s see.” The griffoness pulled out a calculator with a pump handle. She carefully counted out the merchandise then typed the amount into the calculator. She pulled the handle CHUNK-CHING! The numbers appeared on the ticker paper. Gulliand and Cinnamon waited patiently. After a while, and several CHUNK-CHINGs later, they received their total. “Five hundred twenty-two bits.”
Gulliand reached into his saddlebag and counted out the coins. The shopkeeper took them, examined them closely, then, confident of their authenticity, swept them into the register.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, though they couldn’t tell from her dry tone if she meant it.
The couple left the shop with all their purchases stuffed into a pair of old flour sacks (which Ginny had sold them for a bit apiece) except for the barrels of flour and sugar which Gulliand arranged to have delivered (for another twenty bits). They let themselves into the house and laid the bags on the table.
“Where ya wanna go next?” asked Cinnamon.
“Well, we need milk, eggs, cheese and butter,” replied Gulliand. “After that, I need to get some meat. I don’t suppose you’d like to come along for that,” he added, giving her a wary look.
“I think I’ll be fine,” Cinnamon assured him. “If I’m going to be living here, I need to get used to it.”
The milk stall was a large lot located on the fringe of the market where there were not many vendors. It was soon obvious why her stall was so isolated. Four black and white spotted cows stood in a fenced area nearby and the smell of bovine manure was strong. Cinnamon smiled and waved to the cows, but they just stared at her blankly and continued to eat or chew their cud. It was obvious they were non-sentient.
The stall’s owner was busy skimming cream when she noticed the two approaching. “Well, well,” she said with a smirk. “If it ain’t the fancy talking griffon and his pet pony! Figured you’d be coming around sooner or later.”
“You know of us?” asked Gulliand, choosing to ignore her remarks.
The griffoness snorted. “Of course I do! Word travels fast in the streets. You’re living in the old McPhearsome place and planning on making it a rest-o-raunt.”
“That is correct.”
“Shouldn't be too hard, considering you're related to Old Lady LeGrand,” the griffoness sneered. “Oh, yeah. I know about that, too. You should be able to pull it off with her money backing you up.”
Gulliand’s cheek feathers flushed red with anger. “I am not relying on my grandmother’s money," he informed her coldly. " I have my own. Keep making remarks like that and you will lose a customer.”
The owner clicked her beak dismissively. “Try going somewhere else,” she sneered. “I’ve got the best dairy in Griffonstone.”
“Your cows certainly look very healthy,” said Cinnamon Roll, trying to change the subject. “They’re sleek and fat and so clean.”
“I take care of my cows,” replied the griffoness proudly. “They’re my bread and butter. Literally.”
Cinnamon Roll nodded. “I see you have both Jerseys and Holsteins. Jerseys have good quality milk, but Holsteins give a whole lot more. My Granny called the Holsteins 'butter bean cows' because they're speckled like a butter bean.”
“So, whaddaya want?” the griffoness cut her off. “I got butter, milk, cheese, cream…”
“Milk, definitely,” answered Gulliand. “And five pounds of butter if you have it.”
“I got it.” she slapped down a yellow lump covered in wax paper. “I’ll bet you wanna inspect it first.”
“Please.”
The stall keeper carefully unwrapped the block of butter. Cinnamon Roll looked at it appreciatively. It was firm with no streaks and colored a soft yellow that reminded her of Fluttershy’s coat. “Is it salted or unsalted?” she asked.
“Salted,” the griffoness replied without looking at her. “Most of mine are salted. Only the rich mooks up the mountain ask for unsalted.”
Gulliand bristled at the insult. “How much?” he managed to ask.
“Ten bits. Milk is two bits per bottle. You get one cent back for every empty bottle you return.”
“How much milk do you think we should get, Cherie?” Gulliand asked Cinnamon.
The filly considered. “Well, I would like to make some of my cakes for you to sell. Let’s say three bottles for now. We’ll get more when we need it.”
“Very well, Cherie.” Gulliand handed over the bits. Like Ginny from the store, the griffoness checked the coins before dropping them into a metal box. They were putting their purchases in their saddlebags when the griffoness suddenly spoke.
“So, you’re planning on selling cakes in the market, eh?”
Cinnamon turned to the stall owner who was regarding her with malicious amusement.
“Among other things,” she said. “We’re trying to drum up interest in the restaurant.”
“Might get more interest than you can stand if you go selling pastries in the market,” answered the griffoness, smirking. “We already got one baker around here. I doubt she’ll be happy about the competition.”
Cinnamon frowned. “I’m not trying to compete with anyone or put them out of business.”
The griffoness shook her head, the malicious smirk still on her beak. “Silly pony! Business is a competition! Winner gets the spoils and the loser gets the boot! Sooner you get that through your cute head, the better off you’ll be.”
Cinnamon was about to refute this but realized, as much as she hated to admit it, the vendor was right. Business was a competition. Sugarcube Corners competed with the other bakeries. Carousel Boutique competed with the other designers. Sweet Apple Acres competed with the other farms. In the case of the Apples and the Pears many years ago, it had been an outright war!
“But I’m not trying to put anyone out of business,” she thought as she turned away. “And competition can be a healthy thing.”
The next stall they visited was the poultry vendor. Chickens sat in wicker cages that hung from a rope stretched out like a clothesline along one side of the stall. A few plump hens were allowed to roam free there, pecking at seeds the owner had fed them. The vendor was a short but stocky male griffon with white and gray speckled feathers and dark gray fur. He glanced questioningly at Cinnamon Roll, but did not say anything. He instead turned all his attention to Gulliand.
“Hey! Ya lookin’ get some chicken? I carry wild turkey, too, but I ain’t got any today.”
“That is fine,” replied Gulliand. “I just want some chicken. Umm…” he glanced at Cinnamon concernedly. “I don’t suppose you have any already prepared.”
The griffon noticed the glance and nodded knowingly. “I got two ready; plucked and gutted. Some rich griff up the hill ordered ‘em for some fancy dinner or something but I can always kill two more.” He reached into an ice chest and pulled out one of the chickens for inspection. “Two roosters. Nice and fat.”
Gulliand nodded. “I’ll take them.”
The griffon wrapped up the meat in white paper then placed them in a thick paper sack.
“Here ya are,” said the vendor, handing Gulliand the sack. “Anything else?”
“You also sell eggs?”
“Yep. The stall behind this one. My son runs it.”
The couple thanked him then walked around to where the griffon had indicated. The egg stall was about the size of a foal’s lemonade stand with a wooden crate for a counter and baskets filled with different sized eggs. A young griffon whose coloring matched the meat vendor was engaged in an argument with a customer. A griffoness with beige fur and white feathers and heliotrope colored wing-tips towered angrily over the child.
It was Gilda!
“Those large eggs look mighty small to me!” she growled, pointing an accusing talon at one of the baskets. “You trying to pull a fast one, kid?”
“I know how to size eggs, lady!” the fledgling snapped back in a young, high-pitched voice. “You can look at the eggs in the other baskets and see these are bigger!”
The griffoness clicked her beak. “They look medium-sized to me, kid. I’m not paying large egg prices for smaller eggs!”
Cinnamon Roll had frozen in fear upon recognizing the scone baker, but watching Gilda try to bully a child infuriated her. “Leave him alone! He’s tellin’ the truth!”
Gilda whipped her head in Cinnamon’s direction, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Mind your own business, pony!” she spat.
“He’s tellin’ the truth!” the filly insisted. “Those are large eggs! As many eggs as I handled on the farm I oughta know!”
“I said mind your own business, pony!” the griffoness snarled.
Cinnamon gulped but stood her ground. Gulliand slid up beside her. She could feel the tension in his muscles and hear the low rumble of a growing roar in his chest.
“YO!” The chicken vendor leaned around the wall of his stall to yell at the irate hen. “My kid says the eggs are large, then they’re large! Ya don’t like it, you can beat it!”
Gilda’s face feathers turned bright pink. She was so furious, Cinnamon Roll expected to see steam shoot from the griffoness’ ears.
“Fine!” Gilda managed to snap. “I’ll take ‘em! Just hurry up so I can get outta here!”
The little griffon deftly packed up a dozen eggs and thrust them at Gilda who snatched them up before slapping a bit onto the counter.
“Little crook,” she muttered under her breath as she turned away. “I know small eggs when I see ‘em.” She shoved past Cinnamon Roll. “Stay outta my way, pony!”
“Whew!” sighed Gulliand once the angry scone baker was out of hearing. “That was a close one. Are you all right, Cherie?”
The little filly nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks for sticking by me, Sugarcube.”
“You know I would, Cherie.”
“Hey!” the little griffon barked, interrupting the two. “Ya wanna buy some eggs or not?”
The little filly chuckled. He was trying to imitate the belligerent adults, but his young voice and appearance only made him appear cute.
“Yes, please. I need two dozen large eggs, if you have them.”
“I got ‘em!” He pulled out a box and quickly but carefully loaded it with eggs. Cinnamon watched him, smiling the whole time. He reminded her of her younger self, eagerly helping Applejack at the market stand.
“What are ya grinning about?” asked the fledgling, eying her suspiciously. “I ain’t doing nothing funny.”
“Sorry. I just think it’s sweet, you helpin’ your father like this.”
“Sweet?” The griffon made a face as if he had tasted something funny. “Griffons don’t do ‘sweet’, lady. We eat it.”
“Right,” said Cinnamon, trying not to laugh. “What do I owe you?”
“Two bits.”
Cinnamon nodded and laid three bits on the counter. The little griffon stared at the coins but made no move to take them.
“Two bits, lady,” he said.
“I know,” Cinnamon replied, pushing the third coin towards him. “The third is a tip… for good service.”
The fledgling stared at her then back to the coins on the counter. It was obvious he wanted to take the third coin but was reluctant to touch it.
“It’s a pony thing,” Gulliand told him.
“Oh!” The little griffon gave Cinnamon a quick glance then quickly pocketed the extra coin. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“You’re welcome.”
Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll made their way back to the house. There were many other vendors with interesting wares but the two were done shopping for the day. Then Cinnamon noticed a stand selling carved figurines. She stopped to admire the clever carvings.
“I need to pick up a souvenir for Applespike,” she murmured. “Just to let him know I’m thinkin’ of him.” She picked up a figurine of a griffon with spread wings. The work was beautiful, showing great detail in the figure's feathers and fierce expression. She bought the figurine from the artist, who gave her a funny look as she paid for it without trying to haggle, then rejoined Gulliand who was admiring a set of carving knives. "Isn't it pretty?" she said, showing him her purchase. “This doesn't look like wood or stone. What do you think it's carved from?"
Gulliand gave it a quick look. “Bone.”
“Bone!” She stared at the figurine in her hoof.
"Most likely from a deer or antelope. Perhaps something bigger."
"Wow! I never knew you could make such pretty things with bones! I think Applespike will get a kick outta this!"
Gulliand raised an eyebrow “You don’t think your brother will be upset knowing it's made of bone?”
Cinnamon Roll snorted. “Are you kiddin’? All the things he's probably seen hangin' out with Zany? This would be downright tame!”
As they approached the house, they found the delivery griffon from the general store waiting with their barrels of flour and sugar. Cinnamon took the groceries inside while Gulliand and the griffon (who had to be paid extra because he insisted he had only been paid for delivery, not moving the barrels into the house) wrangled the barrels inside. Once they were safely deposited in the larder and the delivery griffon duly paid for his service, Cinnamon Roll eagerly pulled out her cake pans, mixing bowls and sifter while Gulliand stoked the oven.
Cinnamon tied her apple-themed apron around her waist and washed her hooves in the sink. "Did you get what you needed for your chicken parmesan?" she asked Gulliand.
The griffon shook his head. "The milk vendor had no parmesan. I will make Chicken Florentine instead. But that is for tomorrow!" He tied on his own apron and placed a torque on his head.
Cinnamon Roll sat at the table, a hot cup of spiced milk resting next to her hoof. Gulliand leaned back in his chair opposite her, his feathers caked with flour and sweat, his own cup of milk beside him. Tiredly, they surveyed the mountain of baked goods they had made that afternoon. There were sugar cookies, cinnamon muffins, and Bundt cakes dripping with creamy strudel. A pair of braided sweet breads had just been removed from the oven and were cooling in their respective pans.
“Think we overdid it?” asked Cinnamon, taking a sip from her cup.
Gulliand shrugged. “Perhaps. Better safe than sorry, though.”
The filly swallowed and set down her cup. “We could send a cake up to your family. I’m sure they’d like it.”
Gulliand nodded. “We can do that.”
Cinnamon sighed. “I wish I had some fruit to work with. Those apples I saw in the market just ain’t up to snuff.”
“Oui,” Gulliand agreed. “I noticed the same thing with the vegetables. I don’t believe I can make my Chicken Florentine like I planned. Argh!” He rubbed his talons across his face in frustration. “We may need to start growing our own fruits and vegetables so we can have a ready supply.”
The filly grinned. “You’re talkin’ my language.” She reached across the table to lay a comforting hoof on his arm. “Here’s an idea! Why don’t you make chicken and dumplin's? We got plenty of ingredients for that right here.”
Gulliand nodded slowly. “Yes. I could do that,” he said without enthusiasm.
Cinnamon Roll chuckled at the slightly disgusted look on his face. “There’s nothing wrong with dumplin's, Sugar Cube,” she said. “My family makes ‘em all the time.”
Gulliand blushed. “I’m sorry, Cherie! It’s just that I wanted to impress these griffons with fine cuisine. Dumplings are just so…pedestrian.”
The filly gave his arm a playful punch. “You’re diggin’ yourself a hole, mister!”
“You know what I mean!”
“I do.”
Any further discussion was cut short as both let out a tremendous yawn. Reluctantly, they rose from their seats. Cinnamon Roll covered the baked goods with wax paper while Gulliand washed the last of the pans and bowls in the sink. Once they were done they each took a quick shower in the house’s small bathroom and retired to their respective rooms for the evening. Despite her exhaustion, Cinnamon Roll couldn’t help but feel excited about the next day! Griffons would finally get a taste of what they could do and, hopefully, it would raise interest in their restaurant!
Oh, Sweet Celestia, she prayed. I hope it goes well.
Cinnamon woke up to the rich smell of fresh coffee and the slightly sulfuric scent of boiling chicken. Yawning, she rolled out of bed and unlocked the pantry door. Gulliand stood at the stove, carefully stirring the contents of a large bubbling pot.
“Mornin’,” said Cinnamon Roll.
“Good morning, Cherie,” Gulliand replied happily. He set down his spoon and gave her a warm hug. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some.” She watched as he gaily snatched up her cup and filled it to the brim. He added the sugar and milk just as he knew she liked it and handed it to her. “Thanks, Sugar Cube.”
“De rien!”
She took a sip and felt her fur stand on end. “Whoo! That’s strong!”
“I know. I had to have it strong so I could wake up enough to cook this chicken properly,” replied Gulliand, giving the pot another stir. “I am not used to getting up this early.”
“Well, this’ll sure keep you up.” Cinnamon took another tentative sip and winced. “I ain’t felt a buzz like that since we tried that Pinto Cubana coffee at Calle Ocho in Little Canterlot.”
“Nothing is stronger than Pinto Cubana.” The griffon took a swig of his own cup and smacked his beak thoughtfully. “But this does give it a run for its money.”
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Both startled at the loud knocking on the front door.
“I’ll get it,” said Cinnamon, going to the door. She opened the little peephole and peeked out. “Hello?”
“HI!”
Cinnamon Roll barely flinched as Gabby’s turquoise eye appeared in the little window. “Good morning, Gabby!” she said, letting the griffoness in. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Same here!” Gabby stepped inside and engulfed the little filly in a big hug. “Good morning to you, too, Mr. LeGrand!” she added to Gulliand.
“Please, just Gulliand is fine.”
“What brings you here this morning?” asked Cinnamon. “Don’t tell me I have another package from home.”
Gabby shook her head. “No, I was just up early and saw your light was on so I thought I would visit. MMMMMM!” The griffoness sniffed the air. “I smell chicken boiling! Are you making soup?”
“Dumplings,” replied Gulliand. “Chicken and dumplings.”
“Really?” the griffoness’ eyes lit up. “That sounds amazing! I haven’t had chicken and dumplings since I was a fledgling! Are you selling that in the market today?”
“That’s the plan. Cinnamon Roll will be selling her baked goods while I dish out the dumplings.”
Gabby gasped. “I heard about that from Gayla! She said you were planning on making some pastries to sell!”
“Who is Gayla?”
“The milk and dairy vendor. She’s been telling everyone about it.”
“Ah, free advertising!” said Gulliand grinning. “Hopefully, that means we’ll have a crowd.”
“Would you like a muffin?” Cinnamon asked Gabby. “We have plenty.”
“Sure! If you don’t mind. I mean, I would hate to cut into your sales…”
“It’s on the house,” replied Gulliand, fetching a muffin from the pile in the kitchen. “A reward for helping us find good vendors.”
The griffoness blushed at the praise. She bit into the muffin, her eyes rolling back in her head in bliss. “Sooooooo goooooood!”
“I’m glad you like it,” said Cinnamon Roll, grinning. “We baked a whole lotta stuff yesterday. Cookies, muffins, sweet bread, Bundt cakes with strudel…”
“What cakes?” asked Gabby, frowning.
“Bundt cakes.”
“Bump cakes?”
“No, Bundt cakes.”
“Burnt cakes?”
“No, BUNDT! B-U-N-D-T!”
“This!” said Gulliand, placing one of the cakes in front of the confused griffoness.
“Oh, I see!” said Gabby, nodding in understanding. “It’s a pretty cake. But…um,” she cocked her head quizzically. “Is there supposed to be a hole in it?”
Cinnamon Roll tried not to laugh. “Yes. That’s how the pan’s shaped.”
“Why?”
“I dunno,” the filly shrugged. “The Germanes are the ones who came up with it. I guess it’s because the cake cooks faster this way.”
“Wow! You learn something new every day! How much will you be charging for the pastries and dumplings?”
“Half a bit for the pastries,” answered Gulliand. “One bit per serving of dumplings.”
“Oh, that’s PERFECT!” Gabby squealed, pressing her balled-up talons against her chin until her cheek feathers fluffed out. “I can afford that! Be sure to save a bowl for me!”
“We will,” Cinnamon promised.
“BOWL?” said Gulliand suddenly. The girls looked at him questioningly as his beak fell open in dismay. “SACRE BLEU CHEESE! How could I have forgotten?”
“Forgotten what, Sugar Cube?”
“BOWLS! DISHES! UTENSILS! Cherie, we have nothing in which to serve the dumplings!”
“Oh, shoot! I didn’t think about that!” cried Cinnamon. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay! Okay! Um…maybe the customers could bring their own bowls from home and we could fill them up?”
“I dunno,” said Gabby, doubtfully. “I know a few griffs who would show up with a mixing bowl and insist that’s one serving. It would be better if you had your own stuff.”
“Maybe Miss Guinevere will let us borrow some of her’s,” suggested Cinnamon hopefully.
Gulliand shook his head. “Mother’s china is very fine and expensive. Even if she let us use it, there is a good chance some of the customers would make off with them.”
The little filly sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to buy some dishes. Maybe someone sells them–”
“Graysons!” cried Gabby. The two looked quizzically at the young griffoness. “Graysons makes and sells pottery! They have dishes, plates, platters, you name it! They’re pretty cheap, too.”
“What time do they open?” asked Cinnamon Roll.
“It’ll be a couple of hours before the shop opens but they should be in their studio now. They’re the only griffs I know besides me who are early risers.”
Cinnamon turned to Gulliand who leaped up to fetch the bits. He returned quickly and handed the purse over to Cinnamon Roll. “Get at least twenty bowls, if you can,” he said. “If you can buy spoons while you’re out, do that, too. Unless…” he skewed his beak doubtfully. “You would prefer I go and you stay…”
Cinnamon Roll shook her head as she took the bag of bits and dropped it into her satchel. “No, Sugar Cube. You need to stay here and tend to the chicken. I’ll be alright. Gabby will be with me.”
Gulliand conceded and gave her a kiss before seeing her off. Gabby quickly led her through the streets. Everything was quiet except for a few vendors who were stocking their stalls. One griffon dropped a metal pot that clanged loudly. The other vendors glared at the offender but there was no yelling or bickering. No one wanted to disturb the quiet of the morning.
“This way,” said Gabby, leading Cinnamon down the road that led to the sawmill. “The studio is down here on the left.”
The studio was a rectangular shaped building made of gray bricks with large arch shaped windows that let in the morning light. Two large kilns shaped like giant onions sat in an enclosed yard next to it. A griffon wearing a thick pair of mitts on his talons pulled a rack of finished pottery from the closest one.
Gabby led Cinnamon into the studio. Four griffons sat at potter’s wheels busily shaping clay into different things. The little filly watched in fascination as the nearest potter deftly shaped the clay with his talons, making it rise like a tower then widen like a blossoming flower. It was almost like watching her Aunt Rarity creating a dress with her magic.
The griffon didn’t look up from his work. “Shop’s not open yet,” he shouted back. “Come back in two hours.”
“The customer can’t wait that long! You got anything she can get now?”
The potter cursed under his breath. “Yes, dammit! Wait a minute!” He turned to a griffon who was stacking some finished plates. “Hey, Go-Go! Help this customer, will ya?”
“Yeah, sure.” The griffon carefully put down the plates and walked over to Cinnamon and Gabby. He was not tall but was round and plump with green feathers and white fur. What struck Cinnamon was the shape of his face. It was round like an owl with two green almond-shaped eyes placed far apart. He also appeared to be smiling, a very rare thing among griffons.
“Hi! Whatcha want?” he asked cheerfully.
“Hi, Go-Go!” Gabby replied just as happily. “My friend here needs some bowls. You got any in stock?”
Go-Go nodded. “We got lotsa bowls.” He looked at Cinnamon Roll and his smile seemed to get bigger. “You’re a pony!” he exclaimed in delight.
Cinnamon smiled. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re a pretty pony,” he added.
The filly blushed. “Thank you.”
“Come on, ya idiot! Quit flirting with the clients and get ‘em what they want!” the potter yelled irritably.
Cinnamon glared at the speaker as Go-Go winced at the insult, his smile faltering for a moment. “This way,” he mumbled, leading the girls into a room full of finished dishware.
“Oh, my!” gasped Cinnamon as she perused the different dishes. Some of them were fine and fancy with painted patterns of leaves or snow-capped mountains. Others were plain and sturdy with a single band of color around the rim. The filly gazed longingly at the pretty dishes, especially one set that had a pattern of trees around the perimeter. “How much are the dishes?” she asked.
Go-Go pointed to the set she was admiring. “That’s seventy-five bits for a full set of four,” he said. “That’s the plates and the bowls together.”
The filly winced. “I need twenty bowls. What’s the cheapest you got?”
Go-Go led them to a stack of plain white bowls without any decoration. Cinnamon picked one up and examined it. It was sturdy and well made. “How much?” she asked.
“Five bits for a set of four. You need twenty so that makes…” Go-Go held up his talons and counted. Though she already knew the answer, the little filly stayed quiet and let him calculate. “Twenty-five bits!”
Cinnamon nodded. “That sounds right.” She counted twenty-six bits and gave them to the owl-faced griffon. He frowned slightly.
“Twenty-five bits,” he said, holding out the extra bit to her.
“Keep it,” said Cinnamon, pushing the coin back to him. “It’s a tip for good service.”
Go-Go looked confused and a little afraid. Luckily, Gabby came to his rescue.
“It’s a pony thing,” she assured him. “She wants you to keep it.”
“Oh!” The griffon’s smile widened. “Thank you!”
Go-Go carefully loaded the bowls into a box and helped set it on Cinnamon’s back. He waved happily as the friends went their way.
“He’s a sweet fella,” said Cinnamon Roll, giving a wave back.
“Yeah,” said Gabby, shaking her head sadly. “I’m glad you were so nice to him. Some griffs have tried to take advantage of him.”
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Cinnamon.
“He has Owl’s Syndrome. It’s a birth defect that affects griffons. It gives the face a very owl-like appearance, hence the name. Griffs who have it tend to be smaller, weaker, and have learning disabilities. Because of that, they tend to be shunned or sent away. Go-Go’s lucky, though. He has family to support him.”
“Humph!” said Cinnamon, remembering the insult the potter griffon had given Go-Go. “I don’t think calling someone an idiot is very supportive.”
Gabby giggled. “Oh, that’s just how they talk to each other. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to see what happens to griffons who try to hurt Go-Go. So, where to now?” she asked. “You have to get spoons, don’t you?”
Gabby led her to a stall with a large display of carved wooden utensils. The vendor was cross because he wasn’t quite ready, but was happy to sell twenty spoons for two bits. Once they were done, they hurried back to the house. Gulliand was removing the chickens from the pot as they walked in.
“Any luck?”
“Yes. Twenty bowls and wooden spoons. Twenty-seven bits.”
“Not bad,” he nodded in approval.
“I better get going,” said Gabby, glancing out the window. “I gotta make my rounds and pick up a few things. Good luck selling your food! And remember to save me a bowl!”
“We will! And thanks for your help, Gabby!”
“No problem!” The little griffoness saluted then took off out the door.
The next few hours seemed to fly by as the couple worked to get everything ready. Cinnamon Roll washed the bowls and spoons and placed them in a basket to carry to their booth, while Gulliand carefully piled the pastries onto a cloth-covered tray. Using his status as a LeGrand, he had managed to get them a stall near one of the busier sections of the market. An hour before noon, the two carried their goods to the market: the griffon carrying the large pot in his talons and the little filly carrying the tray of pastries on her back.
“Are you sure you’re alright, carrying that heavy tray?” Gulliand asked, not for the first time. “I know it is difficult to balance.”
Cinnamon rolled her eyes. “I’m an Earth pony, Sugar Cube. I can handle it! You need both talons to carry that big old pot. Besides, I think we reached our booth.”
The stall was a square space that sat on the corner of two avenues. Two wooden planks that served as counters formed one corner of the square while two gray, wooden walls separated the stall from its neighbors. Gulliand set down his heavy pot on one counter while Cinnamon set up shop on the other one. The filly spread a bed sheet over the counter then spread out her wares on it. The griffon set up the bowls and spoons along with a deep dish pan to collect the dirty dishes. A crowd of curious griffons were already lining up to see what the strange couple was offering.
“Chicken and dumplin’s! Come get your chicken and dumplin’s right here!” called Cinnamon Roll in her best vendor voice. “Hot off the stove, fresh dumplin’s! Pastries! Muffins! Cookies! Sweet bread! Half a bit for the sweets!”
The griffons eyed the pastries dubiously, but willingly lined up for the dumplings. Soon, all twenty bowls had been used, and twelve had been put in the dirty dish pan. Cinnamon ran the dishes to the house to clean them. When she returned to the stall, another stack of dirty bowls and spoons awaited her.
“I’m sorry, Cherie,” said Gulliand over his shoulder as he served another bowl. “I was so anxious to get started I forgot we would need a dishwasher! Is there any way you could set up a washing station here, so you do not need to run back and forth?”
“I don’t have enough dishpans to set up a wash and rinse,” Cinnamon called back. “I should have bought more bowls!” Suddenly, she noticed a griffon eyeing a muffin. “Hello, can I help you?”
The griffon jumped back, startled by her voice. He was younger than Gigi and Gidget, with blue feathers and matching fur. Three blue feathers with golden tips formed his crest. His blue eyes were wide in fear.
“I-I wasn’t doing nothin’!” he exclaimed. “I was just lookin’!”
“That’s okay, you can look,” said Cinnamon soothingly.
The blue griffon tentatively crept closer, his eyes fixed warily on Cinnamon. “What-what is this stuff?” he asked.
“Those are muffins,” said the filly, pointing to the pastry he had been eyeing. “My sister-in-law gave me her recipe. These over here are sugar cookies. These are braided sweet breads. I can cut those up for you, if you like. And these are Bundt cakes.”
The griffon cocked his head curiously. “Bun cakes?”
“Bundt cakes.”
“Bump cakes?”
“No, Bu– Oh, never mind! They’re cakes with a hole in them.”
The clinking sound of a bowl going into the dishpan made Cinnamon Roll turn around. The pile was getting higher and Gulliand was down to four clean bowls. Frustrated, she gathered the dirty dishes for another run back to the house. How can I concentrate on selling my baked stuff if I gotta keep washing the dishes? she groused to herself. She glanced at the blue griffon and saw him looking longingly at the muffins. Despite her frustration, she managed to smile kindly.
“Would you like to buy one? They’re half a bit each.”
“I-I don’t have any bits,” the blue griffon stammered, hunching his shoulders as if he expected her to strike him. “I-I can work for you, though. Whatever you need done, I can do it!”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” said Cinnamon, shaking her head. “You can ha–”
“Please!” the griffon threw himself to his knees in front of her. His eyes stared up at her pleadingly. “I know I’m kinda small, but I can work! I don’t mind! I’ve worked for a lot of vendors before!”
Cinnamon Roll bit her lip. She wanted to tell him he could have a muffin free of charge but she remembered how suspicious griffons were of free things. She looked at the pile of dirty dishes and an idea came to her.
“Can you wash dishes?” she asked.
The griffon seemed surprised. “Uh, yeah. I can do that.” He regarded her suspiciously. “Are you seriously giving me a job or are you just asking me so I’ll get lost?”
“I’m serious,” said Cinnamon Roll, laying down the dirty dishes in front of him. “We need all the help we can get. I can’t wash dishes and sell my pastries at the same time so you’d be doin’ me a big favor.”
“And you promise you’ll let me have a muffin when I’m done.”
The filly’s heart melted at the plaintive look on his face as he asked this. “Yes,” she assured him. “I promise you will have something to eat, Sugar Cube.”
The griffon nodded. “Okay, then. Show me what to do.”
Cinnamon Roll escorted him to the house and showed him what needed to be done. On top of washing the dishes, he had to bring the clean ones to the booth and take the dirty ones back to be cleaned. The little filly returned to work where she found a small crowd of customers who, having eaten lunch, were now looking for dessert. The sugar cookies went fast, as did the bread and the muffins, though she held one back for the little griffon. The Bundt cakes did not sell at all and Cinnamon became tired of being asked where the middle of the cakes went.
“Hey, guys! How’s it going?”
Cinnamon Roll smiled. “Hey, Gabby. It’s goin’ purty well. Everything’s sellin’ except for the Bundt cakes.” She turned to Gulliand. “How are you doin’ with the dumplings, Sugar Cube?”
“I am getting low, but I have more than enough for you, Gabby,” he answered, happily. He handed her a steaming bowlful. The little griffoness’ eyes rolled up in delight as she breathed in the delicious aroma.
“Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh! I have been waiting for this moment all morning! Thank you!” She slapped a bit down on the counter. “I’ll be back for one of those cakes!” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.
Cinnamon Roll stared ruefully down at her cakes. She wondered if she should just slice them up and sell them that way. When the blue griffon returned with the clean dishes, she asked him to bring her a knife. He came back shortly with a long bread knife.
“Ya gonna cut ‘em up?” he asked as she pulled one to her.
“Might as well. They sure ain’t sellin’ like this.”
“I kinda like ‘em,” he said. “They kinda remind me of a little nest.”
Cinnamon stopped and stared down at the Bundt cakes as if seeing them for the first time. They did have a nest-like shape, she admitted, and the strudel she had drizzled over them did resemble strings and straw. “Yeah, they do. I hadn’t noticed before you said that. Oh!” The filly’s face lit up as an idea came to her. “I think I know what I’m gonna do with these next time! Thanks a lot!”
“Uh, you’re welcome?” said the little griffon, giving her an odd look. He gathered up the dirty dishes and headed back to the house. Cinnamon stared thoughtfully at the cakes, imagining what she could do with them.
“I’m back for a cake!”
Gabby laid down her half bit and picked up the cake Cinnamon had been studying. She broke off a piece with her talon and popped it into her beak.
“Mmmm!” her face shone in delight. “This is so good!”
“Thanks, Gabby. I’m glad somebody likes it.”
“Oh, give ‘em time. They’ll come around!” Gabby wrapped the cake in brown paper and carefully laid it in her satchel. “You two make some great food! That chicken and dumplings was amazing! By the way, I couldn’t help noticing Gallus giving you a hand with the dishes. It’s really nice of you, giving him a job like that.”
“Gallus?” Cinnamon Roll slapped her forehead with a hoof. “I can’t believe I was so rude to not ask him his name! Yeah, he came around lookin’ at the muffins and begged me for a job. We needed a dishwasher, so that’s how he got that. He’s done a good job so far.”
“He’s a good kid,” said Gabby. “A little sarcastic sometimes, but most griffs are. He does odd jobs around town to get food. He’s helped me with deliveries a few times. I’d give him more work, but I can’t afford to pay him.”
“Where are his parents?”
“Gone.” Gabby shook her head sadly. “His mother died of Grover Pox when he was little. His father drank himself to death a few years later. The kid’s been on his own since he was ten.”
Cinnamon was shocked. “Doesn’t he have any family? Any grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?”
The griffoness shook her head again. “Nope, not a one. His mother was an only chick and his father was the only member of his family to survive a house fire. Grandpa Gruff made some inquiries but he’s come up with nothing.”
“Sweet Celestia!” gasped Cinnamon Roll. She was just a baby when her mother died. Luckily, she had her brother Cinnamon Stick looking out for her, and the ponies at the orphanage had been kind. When Applejack and Spike adopted them, they had become members of the massive Apple clan with more relatives than they could have dreamed. She just couldn’t comprehend the idea of this young griffon making it on his own.
“I got some clean dishes,” called Gallus, laying down his load next to Cinnamon. “Looks like there’s no more dirty dishes, so I guess you’re done for the day.” He glanced over at Gabby and waved. “Hey, Gabs!”
“Hey, Gallus!” the griffoness waved back. “I need to get back to work,” she added to Cinnamon. “I’ll see you later. Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
Gallus cleared his throat and pointedly held out his talon. “I believe I earned a muffin?”
Cinnamon smiled. “Oh, you earned more than that,” she said, laying three bits onto his upturned palm. The blue griffon froze and his face melted into a frown.
“Those are the weirdest looking muffins I’ve ever seen,” he snarked.
“It’s payment for your washing the dishes,” replied the filly. She handed him the held-back muffin. “You did a great job.”
“Thanks,” said Gallus, though he did not sound thankful. He held the muffin to himself but thrust the coins back to the filly. “But I don’t take charity.”
“It’s a pony thing,” she replied, recalling Gulliand and Gabby’s explanations.
The little griffon snarled. “Well, here’s a griffon thing!” He slammed the bits onto the plank counter hard enough to make the leftover cakes go airborne for a moment. “I don’t take charity!”
Cinnamon’s temper welled up. “Why you–!”
“CHERIE!”
Gulliand’s voice cracked like a whip, rendering the little filly speechless. He strode forward, pulling himself up to his full height so he towered over the two.
“He said he does not accept charity,” he said in a calm but firm voice. He turned to Gallus. “Thank you for your help, today. We are planning on returning to the market in a few days. We could use your help.”
Gallus nodded. “Okay.”
“We will pay you in bits,” Gulliand continued. “Three bits an hour with a meal included. Is that acceptable to you?”
The little griffon’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s fine by me!”
“Good. Come by our house the day after tomorrow and we will go from there.”
“Cool! I’ll be there!”
“Oh, and take one of those cakes with you. It will save us from carting it back to the house.”
“Okay!” Gallus grabbed up the nearest Bundt cake then took off, disappearing into the market crowd.
“Are you all right, Cherie?” asked Gulliand, gently laying a talon on the little filly’s shoulder. Cinnamon Roll looked up at her fiance. His golden eyes stared down at her kindly. “I know I must have frightened you just then.”
Cinnamon hung her head. “I deserved it,” she said. “I insulted the poor boy.”
“You meant well, Cherie. Griffons love bits, but we value our pride even more.”
Cinnamon pressed her head into his fluffy chest. “Let’s go home.”
Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll strolled down the alley towards their house. The griffon carried the now empty pot while the filly toted on her back what was left of the cakes.
“How much did we make, Sugar Cube?”
“I haven’t counted it yet, but I know I sold at least fifty bowls of dumplings and you sold everything except those Bundt cakes. It should come up with a tidy sum.”
The filly smiled proudly. “Not bad for our first solo venture.”
Gulliand opened the kitchen door and let Cinnamon enter first. The filly deposited her tray of cakes onto the counter then took the pot from her fiance.
“I’ll wash it for you, Sugar cube. You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen all morning. Sit down and have a rest. I’ll fix us some tea.”
The griffon stepped into the living room, aiming for the closest chair at the table. Hopefully, he thought, they could afford some comfy armchairs in the near future.
CRUNCH!
Gulliand froze as something snapped under his talons. He looked down and saw something shiny on the floor. Carefully, he picked it up. It was a piece of broken glass.
“Cinnamon! Did you happen to break a glass this morn– OUCH!”
The griffon yelped as another shard of glass embedded itself in his left paw. Looking around, he noticed there were more scattered along the floor.
Cinnamon Roll rushed in, her front hooves dripping with soap suds. “What’s wrong, Sugar Cube?”
“STOP!” Gulliand cried, holding up a talon. “There’s broken glass on the floor!”
“What!” The filly glanced at the scene. “But, how? Where did the glass–”
“There!” cried Gulliand, pointing towards the room’s one large window. “Some of the panes are broken! Look!”
“Oh, my gosh! Don’t move!” Cinnamon ran back into the kitchen and returned with a broom and dust pan. “I’m wearing horseshoes so I should be fine,” she said.
Quickly, she swept up the glass, careful to get every splinter. Gulliand watched as she scooped up the shards and dumped them into a bucket. He tossed in the piece he had been absently holding onto then checked his left paw. There was a tiny sliver of glass sticking out of one of his toe pads. It wasn't deep and Gulliand was able to easily remove it with very little blood shed.
“I think I found what broke the window,” said Cinnamon Roll grimly, holding up a large hunk of red brick. “There’s a few more under the table.”
“Sacre,” the griffon swore. “Search the house! Make sure nothing has been taken!”
Gulliand checked the big room, flying up to examine the hole in the roof to ensure no one had passed through it. Cinnamon checked her bedroom and the larder. She opened the barrels of flour and sugar to ensure no one had tampered with them. Gulliand went upstairs and checked the bedroom while Cinnamon searched the bathroom. Except for the soap which the griffon had left lying in the tub that morning, everything appeared to be fine.
“No one broke in,” said Gulliand, sighing in relief. “It looks as if we are dealing with a vandal.”
“I figgered as much,” replied Cinnamon. “The window is too far from the door for some critter to reach in and unlock it. It’d been easier to go in through the hole in the roof.”
The griffon nodded. “I need to find some griffon to patch that hole for us. I thought we could wait until the lumber was ready, but who knows when that will be.”
“We can get some straw to cover the hole,” Cinnamon agreed. “Right now, we need to find someone who can fix that window. We don’t need the house lookin’ worse than it is.”
Tired as he was, Gulliand returned to the market to find a repair griffon while Cinnamon Roll finished clearing up the mess. He returned about an hour later with a griffon whose feathers were as green and sleek as a parakeet’s. He carried a large leather bag over one shoulder and a thick belt loaded with tools around his waist.
“This is Garland,” Gulliand introduced him. “He fixes windows and repairs thatch.”
“Among other things,” the griffon grunted.
The little filly smiled kindly. “Pleased to meet you, Garland. I’m Cinnamon Roll."
“I heard there was an Earth Pony in town,” he said, looking her over. “Didn’t believe it till I saw you hawking cakes at the market this morning.” He jerked his thumb towards the window. “I’m guessing this is the one that needs fixing. Let’s get started.”
The griffon carefully laid his bag on the table before tackling the window. He pulled a pair of thick leather gloves from his belt and, donning them, pulled what was left of the broken glass out of the frame. As Cinnamon watched, he opened his bag and carefully removed several squares of glass. He held them up to the window until he found the sizes he needed, then proceeded to attach them to the rails. The griffon glanced at Cinnamon who was hovering behind him.
“If you’re lookin’ for a floor show, this is all I do,” he grunted irritably.
“Sorry!” Cinnamon blushed. “I’m used to hangin’ around, helpin’ my family repair stuff.”
“I don’t need any help,” the griffon muttered, turning back to his work.
“Cherie,” said Gulliand before Cinnamon could reply. “Why don’t you make us some tea? Perhaps a little chamomile to calm our nerves.”
The filly nodded and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Garland returned to his work.
“So, you and that pony are living here? Together?” he asked Gulliand.
The griffon raised an eyebrow. “Yes, we are.”
The repair griffon snorted. “No wonder you got your windows busted out.”
Gulliand's neck feathers stood on end as he glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
Garland shrugged. “Most griffs don’t care much for ponies,” he said quietly. He smoothed some putty onto the molding to hold the glass in place. “Some griffs downright hate ‘em.”
“Are you one of those?” asked Gulliand dangerously.
“You think I’d be working for you if I was?” the griffon smirked. “I've had dealings with ponies before. They're not bad. Unfortunately, not everyone around here sees it that way. Especially," he added, giving Gulliand a meaningful look. "Especially when that pony makes pastries to sell in the market."
"Are you hinting that you know who could have done this?"
"I'm not saying anything of the kind," replied Garland. " I'm just saying some griffs don't like competition, especially from ponies. Though, I gotta admit that little filly makes a mean sugar cookie!"
“Oh, I’m glad you liked ‘em,” exclaimed Cinnamon Roll, who happened to walk into the room on that last bit. “I wish I had some to give you, but we plumb sold out of ‘em. I can cut you some cake, though.”
Garland wrinkled his face. “You mean one of those cakes with a hole in it? I think I’ll pass.”
“It’s a BUNDT cake, for Luna’s sake! It is supposed to have a hole in it!”
“Let it go, Cherie,” Gulliand interrupted. “I am sorry,” he added to Garland. “She’s been having to explain that all day. I assure you the cakes are delicious.”
The griffon just shrugged and returned to his work. As soon as he finished, Gulliand showed him the hole in the roof. After an examination, the griffon left to gather some materials from a nearby field. He returned with an enormous bundle of straw and brushy grass which he deftly wove into a thick thatch. Gulliand assisted him in attaching it to the roof.
Tea was ready by the time they finished. Garland was reluctant to join them, regarding the spread with suspicion, but after some cajoling from Cinnamon Roll he agreed to stay. He even tried some of the Bundt cake and admitted it was good.
“Gotta admit, I don’t get invited to tea often,” he said, sipping from his cup. “Come to think of it, I’ve NEVER been invited to tea before! It’s not bad.”
“Gabby said something like that the first time we invited her to eat,” said Cinnamon Roll, pouring herself another cup. “It’s pretty sad griffons don’t invite folks over more often.”
“You may think it’s sad, but I call it a blessing,” snorted Garland. “You lucked out having Gabby over. Most griffons, when they get together, all they do is argue and complain about stuff. The Blue Moon Festival is about the only time we’re able to come together as a community. Then we sit around a table complaining about the food and trying not to bite each others’ head off.”
“It was the same when I was growing up,” agreed Gulliand. “My aunts and uncles and cousins would come and eat dinner. My sisters and I got along well with the cousins, but the adults put everyone on edge. Especially Aunt Garbo. I remember she once sent her food back to the kitchen five times claiming it wasn’t seasoned right.”
“Cookie told me about that,” said Cinnamon Roll, wrinkling her snout in disgust. “Believe me, you don’t want to know what she seasoned it with after the fifth time.”
“Well, I gotta get going.” Garland wiped his beak on the back of his arm and stood up. “I told Grandpa Gruff I’d fix the thatch on a house he’s trying to rent out. The old geezer’ll demand a lower rate if I’m late.”
“Take some cake with you,” Cinnamon Roll insisted. She wrapped the leftover cake in wax paper and handed it to the repair griffon. “You can give some to Mr. Gruff, if ya want.”
“Give something to Grandpa Gruff?” he chortled. “That’ll be the day. No one gives anything to Grandpa Gruff unless they want their head bitten off. That old guy’s prouder than Tirek and a lot grumpier.”
As the repair griffon flew off to his next job, Cinnamon cleared the table and washed the dishes. When she returned to the living room, she found Gulliand still seated at the table with a brooding look on his face. Quietly, she sat down beside him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked softly.
The griffon shook his head. “They are not worth that much,” he replied with a slight smile on his beak. “I just imagined things would be easier for us. The delays with the lumber, you being intimidated by another griffon, and now this! I just never expected this.”
“An expectation is a premeditated resentment,” replied Cinnamon Roll, placing her hoof on his shoulder.
“Interesting," muttered Gulliand. "Is that some of your mother's wisdom?"
“No, I got that from Aunt Fluttershy. That’s what she told me when I thought about droppn’ out of college.”
“What!” Gulliand jerked his head up in surprise. “I never knew you were thinking of quitting!”
“Yeah. It was during my first semester. When I first attended college, I thought it would be like learning how to bake with Granny and Ma. But it wasn’t like that at all. There was so much I had to learn: like business management, food safety, and accounting. It didn’t help that those snobby unicorn fillies were making fun of me at every turn.”
“I knew you were struggling, Cherie," said Gulliand, wiping a tear from her face with his thumb. "But I did not realize you felt that strongly.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk with you about it," Cinnamon sniffed. "We had just gotten to know each other and I didn’t want to dump on ya. When I went home for Hearth’s Warming and I was so upset. I didn’t know what to do! I didn't want to disappoint my family but I felt so let down.
Ma or Pa must have noticed how unhappy I was because Aunt Fluttershy took me aside on Hearth's Warming Eve to talk to me. I broke down and told her how things were going and how I was thinkin' of quittin'. That's when she told me ‘Expectations are a premeditated resentment’. She said when she and Uncle Discord first started their relationship, she thought she could tame him: get him to stop using his powers and be like everypony else. It didn't work out that way. Uncle Discord tried to act normal once, but he ended up almost fading away! Aunt Fluttershy said it made her sad to think she failed, but she learned she had to accept him for what he was.
The point is, if you go in expectin' one thing and somethin' else happens, you're gonna be disappointed. We just do what we can and take things as they come."
“Sage advice," Gulliand nodded. "I am just worried for you, Cherie. We have hardly been here for a week, and have been attacked twice. Garland did not give any names, but I would not be surprised if that rude scone baker was behind this!"
"Maybe," Cinnamon Roll shrugged. "But, I'm not gonna let that stop me. Are you?"
"No." Gulliand held her to him and buried his face in her apple and cinnamon scented mane. "Never!"