Mud, Sweat, and Tears
Mud, Sweat, and Tears
by Hyperexponential
“Applejack, my dear, we simply must have a couple of those scrumptious‐looking apples of yours.”
Applejack, nearly done setting up her stand at the Ponyville Farmers’ Market, turned to find her friends Rarity and Fluttershy. Decked out in sunglasses and sun hats, the pair might have stepped out of the cover of a fashion magazine. Applejack was suddenly acutely aware of the perspiration that beaded her coat. It might be early on this late‐summer’s day, but it was already promising to be a hot one.
“Howdy, ladies. Big plans for the day?”
“Oh, yes. It’s our girls’ day out,” said Fluttershy.
“Yes. We have a full day of shopping ahead of us.” Rarity managed to make it sound like a prison sentence. “Then we have our regular spa appointment scheduled for the afternoon. I can’t imagine how I’ll last till then.”
Applejack resisted the urge to comment. These were after all her friends, not to mention paying customers, but then Rarity reluctantly offered a suggestion. “Pardon me for saying so, but a visit to the spa might be something for you to consider as well.”
Applejack did not miss the wrinkling of Rarity’s nose that attended this suggestion. She kept her response to a simple “Oh?”, as the muscles in her jaw and neck tightened.
Having started down this path, Rarity found herself unable to stop. She tried to explain. “It’s just that… I couldn’t help but notice… you have just a bit of a glow.”
“I think you mean sweat. The good, honest kind a pony works up pulling a wagonload of apples from Sweet Apple Acres all the way to Ponyville.”
As Applejack’s voice rose, Fluttershy did her best to become invisible.
Rarity tried to placate her friend. “No offense intended, I assure you. You are a hard‐working business pony, as am I. After the long hours of labor that entrepreneurs such as ourselves put in, aren’t we entitled to a few… indulgences?” Rarity cast a longing look toward the heavens. “Isn’t a visit to the spa something we deserve?”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know nothin' about that.”
“Wait. You can’t mean that you’ve never visited the spa. Not even once?” Rarity bestowed upon Applejack the sort of pitying look normally reserved for crippled foals on crutches. “If you’ve never been, then you simply must. My dear, the pleasures of the spa cannot be imagined, but only experienced.” Rarity closed her eyes and began imagining the unimaginable. “The seaweed wrap, the mud bath, the–”
Applejack, who had managed to hold her tongue throughout this rapturous account, couldn’t believe she had heard correctly.
“Hold up, girl. Did I hear you say ‘mud bath’? Like takin’ a bath? In mud?”
“Oh, yes. You would not believe how it draws the stress, to say nothing of the toxins, from oneself.” Rarity lowered her voice to a stage whisper, as if to confide a state secret. “It really is the key to rejuvenating the total pony.”
“But mud? You’re the pony who goes three blocks out of her way so’s you won’t muddy up those dainty hooves of yours in some puddle. And now I’m supposed to believe you pay good bits to sit up to your neck in mud?” Applejack shook her head in disbelief. “You have got to be pullin’ all four of my legs.”
Fluttershy rose to Rarity’s defense. “Oh, no. Everything Rarity says is true. It really is nice.”
Rarity continued. “You must remember that this is not just dirt mixed with water.” She might have been describing some unspeakable contamination. “It is a combination of minerals, rare trace elements, nutrients, things necessary to properly nourish and replenish a pony’s skin and coat.”
“I dunno. To me it sounds a whole lot like what the hogs wallow in back at the farm. Myself, I’d rather bathe in the tub, with water, but you high‐fashion types have got your own ways.”
This was nothing more than the sparring that always went on between Rarity and Applejack, but Fluttershy was getting uncomfortable. “Please don’t be upset with Rarity. She has a lot on her mind. We’ve been talking about the big problem she has.”
Applejack’s scowl softened. “Oh, darlin’, you know me. I may git mad, but I don’t stay mad.” She turned to Rarity. “So what’s this big problem? Anything I can lend a hoof with?”
Rarity paused for a moment, debating whether or not to involve Applejack. She decided to take the chance. “I suppose you know I’m on the local board of one of Princess Celestia’s charities.”
Applejack, intrigued, nodded. “Yeah, I remember Twilight talkin’ about it. She was sayin’ you help out colts ’n’ fillies who oughta be gettin’ some good schoolin’, but don’t have the bits to pay for it.”
Rarity affirmed this with a smile. “That’s right. Not even the princess can see to the needs of every deserving student all by herself. Anyway, this year the board has asked me to arrange their annual local fundraiser. In years past we’ve auctioned off donated items, but we’ve done that for sooo long, and frankly, ponies here have been losing interest. I’d like to try something new, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what.” Rarity hung her head in defeat. “I suppose it’s just going to have to be the same old thing.”
Applejack rolled her eyes skyward, tapped her chin, and furrowed her brow in thought. “So you’re lookin’ for somethin’ that’s gonna draw a crowd. Maybe somethin’ nopony’s ever seen before. That could be a tall order.”
“So I’m finding out. There are actually all sorts of events that we could bring to Ponyville – concerts, plays, any number of things – but they’re frightfully expensive to produce, and I’ve got just a pittance of a budget and not much more than a week to do it all in.”
Applejack had been introduced to a world of new ideas that morning, and they buzzed about in her head, sticking together in odd combinations. Suddenly several of them slid together, locking into place like the pieces of a puzzle.
“Rarity, what if you were to hold a mud rasslin’ contest?”
Rarity stared blankly for the moment it took to decipher “rasslin’”, then rolled her eyes. “Please, dear, I’m serious.”
“So am I. Dead serious. It wouldn’t cost nothin’ to put on. Why, it’d be just like hog tyin’ at the rodeo. And you oughta see the crowds that pulls in.”
“And exactly who do you expect is going to be doing the wrestling? I don’t suppose you’d be interested–?”
Applejack dismissed Rarity's question with a wave of the hoof. “A farmpony like me wouldn’t be much of a draw,” she said, casting a shrewd eye on her friends, “but if a couple of beauty queens were to square off, heck, ponies would line up ’round the block to see that.”
Rarity and Fluttershy didn’t need to ask what couple of beauty queens Applejack had in mind. They looked at one another, their faces a study in shock and horror.
Rarity turned back to Applejack, while Fluttershy continued to look beseechingly at Rarity. “Now I know you’re not serious. Mud and wrestling are both very high on my list of things I refuse to have anything to do with.”
Applejack was having none of it. “Now wait just a minute. Did you not just get done tellin’ me how you and Fluttershy can’t get enough of soakin’ in the mud?”
“Well, yes. But–”
While Rarity’s mind raced frantically trying to come up with ways in which mud bathing was nothing like mud wrestling, Applejack plowed on. The salespony in her was galloping like a thoroughbred.
“Think of the crowd you’ll get! Nopony’ll believe it! The only two ponies less likely to rassle one another in the mud are Princess Celestia and Princess Luna!”
“I’m no wrestler!” Rarity yelped. “And do you honestly see poor, dear Fluttershy grappling in the muck like some over‐muscled barbarian?”
Fluttershy, left wide-eyed and dumbstruck by the mere prospect of such a calamity, gave answer to Rarity’s rhetorical question by vigorously shaking her head from side to side.
Applejack was not to be deterred. “I dunno. I’ve seen Fluttershy work up a head of steam when the occasion called for it. And I seem to recall a certain slumber party where you gave as good as you got. Don’t neither one of you go playin’ the helpless young filly around me.
“Tell you what. The two of you talk things over. If you decide this is somethin' you just don’t want nothin' to do with, I’ll understand. But here’s my offer. If you decide to go ahead, I’ll coach you. And I just bet I can sweet talk Rainbow Dash into helpin' out too. Think about it.”
Rarity and Fluttershy didn’t say “yes”, but neither did they gallop off in a blind panic. As far as Applejack was concerned, she had just made her first sale of the day. It didn’t even matter that apples weren’t involved. This day is off to one mighty fine start.
“Ladies, may I offer each of you your choice of apple, compliments of Sweet Apple Acres Farm.”
The rest of the morning was torture for Fluttershy. While the two ponies wandered the markets and boutiques of Ponyville, the anxious pegasus expected Rarity to return at any moment to Applejack’s appalling idea. Instead, Rarity was uncharacteristically quiet, tossing out only the occasional bit of insubstantial small talk to fill the ominous silence that loomed between them. Rarity was preoccupied, and Fluttershy didn’t need psychic powers to guess with what.
The pair stopped for lunch at a favorite restaurant. Fluttershy ordered a splendid dandelion‐head‐and‐carrot salad, but a meal that should have been a delight might as well have been crabgrass. Things did not improve with the afternoon. Fluttershy lived heartbeat to heartbeat in dread anticipation of the other horseshoe dropping.
Their travels brought them at last to the spa. The pampering of Aloe and Lotus, the spa’s proprietors, would have been sheer nirvana on any other day, but today Fluttershy felt like she was being readied for execution. Her stress level was obvious to Aloe as the spa pony administered a deep massage.
“Miss Fluttershy, you’re so tense. Have you had a hard week?”
Fluttershy might have confessed to her hard day had not Rarity been within earshot. The pegasus fumbled for an answer. “Oh, uh, yes. The birdies and the critters… tense, yes.”
Aloe pounded and pummeled and kneaded the tension‐beset pony until at long last her muscles began to unknot. The treatment couldn’t exactly be called comfortable, but it did distract Fluttershy from the axe she felt poised over her neck.
Fluttershy was even beginning to feel a bit hopeful by the time she was being prepared for her mud bath. Maybe Rarity had forgotten about Applejack’s ridiculous idea. Or maybe Rarity had come up with six other ideas, each of which could only be a vast improvement over the insane notion of wrestling in mud.
The chance of Rarity saying “yes” to something so bizarre could only have been one in a million to begin with. And the odds had to be going down with each passing minute. The spa was working its old, reliable magic on mind and body, and it was a relaxed Fluttershy who lowered herself into the steaming bliss of the mud. Behind eyes covered by slices of cucumber, soothing images crept into her mind, gentle things: birds, butterflies…
“Fluttershy? I’ve been thinking about Applejack’s idea,” came Rarity’s voice from the neighboring tub.
Fluttershy’s insides contracted into a tight, painful knot. It was as if they had been scooped out and a boulder left in their place. The birds and butterflies fled. She was suffocating, buried alive, helpless. Fluttershy saw herself at the center of a vast arena, alone but for the nightmare denizens of the Everfree Forest surrounding her on all sides, all hungry and all cheered on by the screaming spectators filling the stands. Nopony other than Fluttershy heard the tiny moan that escaped her.
Rarity continued. “I hate to say so, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. It would cost almost nothing to put on, and could attract a sizable audience. Applejack is right about rodeos pulling in bigger crowds than charity auctions, and mud wrestling is the next best thing to it.”
Rarity let out a dramatic sigh, then confided her real worry. “Anypony can cut and stitch. My clientele seeks me out for my sense of style, my imagination, my flair for presentation. Those are the things the charity board is expecting me to bring to this fundraiser. But I’ve wracked my brain and come up with nothing. I can’t go back and tell them I’m putting on yet another boring old auction.
“I know you aren’t fond of the idea of wrestling. Truth be told, neither am I. But I’m afraid Applejack is right about that as well. We two really are the very definition of natural beauty and public poise. What choice other than us could there possibly be?”
“I could never wrestle you, Rarity. You’re my friend.”
“Two friends can wrestle one another. They’re not trying to hurt each other. It’s only a game,” said Rarity, trying to convince herself as much as Fluttershy.
“But it’s a game where you have to push and shove and make the other pony do things they don’t want to do,” fretted Fluttershy. “I don’t like games like that.” She sighed wistfully. “I’d like wrestling better if it was about singing.”
If wishing could make it so, Fluttershy would now be a tree. But this was important to Rarity, and the gentle pegasus would suffer anything before disappointing her friend.
“If you think mud wrestling is the right thing to do and you want me to do it with you and that’s really what you want to do, well, then it’s all right, I guess.” Try as she might, Fluttershy could not make her voice carry much conviction.
“Thank you, Fluttershy. You’re a dear friend. I knew I could count on my spa buddy in my hour of need. It is such a relief to have this burden lifted from my shoulders.
“Now don’t worry about a thing. I’ll arrange everything. Applejack will train us. And when the time comes to wrestle, it will be over just like that.”
Fluttershy could imagine much the same being said of the amputation of a limb.
Rarity offered one last encouragement to both her friend and herself. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
Fluttershy wasn’t so sure.
And so mud wrestling came to Ponyville. Applejack spoke with Rainbow Dash. Getting the polychrome pegasus solidly on board was a simple matter of turning the competition into one between trainers as well as wrestlers. Applejack would be trainer for Team Rarity; Rainbow would coach Fluttershy.
The contest would be held in one week, and for Rarity it would be a busy one. She was not only a contestant, but the contest’s producer as well. That meant in addition to training, Rarity was responsible for ticket sales, construction of the exhibition site, and a host of other things. If that wasn’t enough, Rarity still had a business to run.
Fortunately, Applejack volunteered to shoulder much of the grunt work on the producing side, and Twilight Sparkle offered to track the production’s million‐and‐one details to make sure that not a single one fell through the cracks. There would be plenty to do for everypony.
Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy arrived at the dusty patch of ground outside Ponyville to hold their first training session. It was only a minute before Pinkie Pie bounded into their midst.
“Am I on time? I’m not late am I?” said Pinkie in a tone suggesting that the fate of nations hung on the answer.
An annoyed Rainbow responded, “Pinkie, you’re not supposed to be here at all! This is Team Fluttershy’s secret training camp. How did you find us, anyway?”
“Well, duh. Twitchy tail, then left eye twitch, then twitchy tail again. That means Rainbow and Fluttershy are practicing wrestling right here.”
Rainbow knew that further explanation was neither necessary nor possible. With Pinkie Pie, it was often simplest to accept without questioning. “Okay, but don’t tell anypony else about this.”
Pinkie made a solemn Pinkie Pie swear, then flopped on her butt to watch the proceedings. A tub of popcorn appeared from behind her back.
Rainbow turned to Fluttershy. “Time to get down to business. Applejack tells me you’ve spent plenty of time in the mud, so we’re gonna concentrate on the wrestling. Stand right where you are, and I’ll show you a few holds.”
Fluttershy did as instructed, and Rainbow approached her, but as soon as Rainbow got within a couple of feet of her nervous student, Fluttershy collapsed to the ground in a quivering heap and covered her face with her hooves. In a timid squeak she asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
The situation did not improve after multiple attempts, so Rainbow tried a different tack. “Fluttershy, just stand there and watch.” It was time for a little audience participation. “Pinkie? A little help?”
Pinkie was more than happy to get in the game. She bounced over to where Rainbow stood and acted the perfect demonstration dummy as Dash showed off her moves to Fluttershy, who flinched and averted her gaze with each one. Fluttershy was taking a vicarious beating, while Pinkie seemed only to enjoy the pulling, prodding, pummeling, and general all‐round abuse she received at Rainbow’s hooves. Meanwhile, Fluttershy’s education as a wrestler hadn’t progressed an inch.
With half the morning wasted, Rainbow was out of ideas and out of patience. Her inner drill instructor took charge. She marched over to where Fluttershy stood and glared into her face. “We need to FIX… YOUR… ATTITUDE,” the frustrated coach bellowed from inches away.
Fluttershy dropped her head, whimpered, and appeared on the verge of tears. As far as she was concerned, mentioning Rarity’s problem to Applejack at the market was the worst mistake of her life.
The situation was at its absolute nadir when Pinkie Pie sidled up next to Rainbow Dash and said, “Let me try.”
“Go ahead. You can’t do any worse than me.”
Unbeknownst to Rainbow, Pinkie Pie was a pony with a plan. Pinkie was an inveterate prankster and had Pinkie‐pranked every last pony in Ponyville with the one glaring exception of Fluttershy. What would be the point? The meek little thing was too easy a target. No sport in it.
There was simply no way to pull a prank on Fluttershy without it being mean instead of funny. Pinkie wasn’t about to be mean to Fluttershy, and by Celestia, she wasn’t going to allow any other creature, pony or otherwise, to be mean to her either. Thus had the pink prankster become something of a self‐appointed protector to Fluttershy. Still, it rankled Pinkie that Fluttershy would forever be the one pony beyond the reach of Pinkie Pie mischief.
Until today.
The dark gods of pranking had presented Pinkie with a situation too good to pass up. She now had the opportunity to mess deeply and shamelessly with Fluttershy’s mind without it counting – to Pinkie’s way of thinking at least – as an act of cruelty. A pony might even argue that it was for Fluttershy’s own good. Could life be any better?
Barely able to contain her glee, Pinkie Pie gave instructions to the two pegasi. “Stand three feet apart facing each other. Look each other right in the eyes. Fluttershy, I want you to listen verrrry carefully to everything I say.
“I’m in a big field of grass, and you are watching from close by. I’m surrounded by bunny rabbits. Baby bunny rabbits. All the little bunnies are nibbling on carrots. Big tasty carrots. Carrots that I want to eat. I’m taking this bunny’s carrot. Munch munch munch. Good carrot. Sad bunny. I’m still hungry. I’m taking your carrot, Mr. Bunny. Munch munch munch. Oh, here’s another bunny with a carrot. He doesn’t have it anymore…”
Pinkie Pie was standing behind and to the left of Rainbow Dash. She was so absorbed in spinning her tale that she didn’t notice the furrows steadily deepen in Fluttershy’s brow, the flecks of foam gather at the corners of her mouth, or the tic develop in her left eye. It caught both Rainbow and Pinkie by surprise when Fluttershy leapt like a jungle cat.
Rainbow was convinced that Fluttershy was coming straight for her and braced for impact. Instead, a blur of yellow and pink shot past close enough to ruffle her multicolored mane. Rainbow looked back to see the cutest, most insane ball of fluff in all Equestria plant her forehooves on the chest of a supine Pinkie Pie.
“Oopsie doopsie,” giggled Pinkie. “I think I should have said that Rainbow ate the carrots.” Fluttershy, however, was no longer listening.
“Give… those… carrots… back… NOW!” Fluttershy hissed menacingly through clenched teeth.
It was Pinkie Pie’s every dream come true, her every wish more than fulfilled. Her delight was such that words nearly failed her. “Too late. All gone. How about some cupcakes instead?”
Fluttershy’s breathing slowed, and the bloodlust faded from her eyes. As she trotted off a short ways to sulk, she shot Pinkie a filthy look over her shoulder and said in a wounded voice, “It’s not right to take carrots from baby bunnies, not even pretend ones.”
Elated, Pinkie Pie picked herself up off the ground as a much‐impressed Rainbow sauntered over to congratulate her. There was a hopeful note in the trainer’s voice. “I think we might finally be getting somewhere.”
Pinkie deliberated before giving her own, almost clinical, assessment. “Not quite up to the standard of her Grand Galloping Gala freak‐out, but it’s a start.”
“Pinkie,” said Rainbow as she draped a conspiratorial foreleg over the prankster’s shoulders, “I see a great future ahead of you as my assistant coach.”
Just as Team Fluttershy was adding to its ranks, Rarity and Applejack were about to have their first training session at Sweet Apple Acres Farm. Joining them were Twilight Sparkle and her ever‐faithful assistant Spike.
Spike had lobbied long and hard for Twilight to use the upcoming contest to study more about Equestrian sports. Unfooled, Twilight was well aware that her assistant’s true goal was the further study of Rarity, the object of his affections, at close quarters. But whatever Spike’s motives, Twilight could not deny that his idea had merit, and so here she was with books, note‐taking materials, and an enthusiastic baby dragon.
Applejack was also under no illusions about Spike’s motives. “Spike! C’mere ya lil’ hornswoggler and make yourself useful.”
Spike’s enthusiasm ended well short of assisting Applejack, and he reported to her reluctantly. She said, “Rarity’s gonna wanna wash up after we’re done, and that’s gonna take a lotta water. Take those…” Applejack pointed out a tall stack of empty buckets. “… over to the pump…” Applejack gestured toward the water pump, some distance away. “… fill ’em up, and bring ’em back over here.”
This was evidently not part of Spike’s master plan. “I fetch and tote all day at the library, and now I’m supposed to do that here too?”
Applejack was expecting no shortage of arguments that day, and she just as soon this not be one of them. This was a time for the carrot rather than the stick. “Well, y’know Spike, there might be more to helpin’ Rarity get cleaned up than just haulin’ water.”
In the blink of an eye, an unsteady pile of empty buckets was racing toward the pump propelled by a pair of scaly feet.
Applejack was now free to devote her full attention to Rarity. There beside the hog wallow, the reality of what was to come was settling on the elegant unicorn. Rarity looked out upon a scene less inviting than the depths of the Everfree Forest. On the other side of the wallow’s rickety wooden fence lay the territory of Rarity’s nightmares, a dark, foul quagmire populated by perhaps a dozen bristly, grunting hulks half‐submerged in the fetid muck. These would be the luckless pony’s wrestling partners for the next week. Rarity was convinced that every beady eye inside the fence was regarding her with evil intent.
“Rarity, ya got mud, and ya got hogs to rassle with. What say ya climb on in there and show me watcha got.”
Rarity fought to delay the inevitable for as long as she could. “Don’t you have any words of wisdom, any sage advice, any actual instruction to impart before you send me… in there?”
“Oh, I’ll have plenty of words of wisdom to dish out, but the only ones I have right now are that you need to get on in there, because the mud is where you’re gonna be rasslin’.”
Being a hog on the Apples’ farm presented few challenges. In fact, it would be hard to imagine a more pleasant existence. You lay in the mud all day. When you got hungry, you ate your fill from the trough. There was always plenty of slop due to the unceasing labors of the remarkable creatures that lived in service to the wallow’s denizens. All in all it was rather like a well‐run hotel or cruise ship with an efficient staff and ’round‐the‐clock buffet and spa. The only thing missing was the seaweed wrap.
That well‐tended‐to existence was about to change. Today would mark the end of a golden age of porcine innocence and the beginning of their time of sorrows. The first sign of clouds on the horizon was the appearance of a new staff creature who insisted upon passing beyond the fence that separated the wallow’s privileged residents from “the help”.
Normally, the staff all knew their place. They saw to the every need of those within the gated community of the wallow while being as unobtrusive as possible. But this new creature made quite a show of trespassing upon their sanctuary. That would almost be forgivable – it is after all difficult to recruit good help – but one of the regular staff appeared to be inciting this deplorable behavior, a formerly most reliable orange creature tragically disfigured by the hideous brown growth spreading from its skull.
The situation deteriorated from there. The trespasser proceeded to approach some of the wallow’s residents and demonstrated its utter disregard for personal space. It was indiscriminate in its attentions and molested both ladies and gentleswine with equal enthusiasm. Those whose privacy was invaded attempted to escape with a minimum of lost dignity, but the creature was persistent.
Unbelievably, worse was to come. From its position outside the fence, the growth‐afflicted staffer turned betrayer once again and further encouraged the wallow’s unwanted guest. What had only been unwelcome familiarity now escalated to out‐and‐out assault. The trespasser would leap upon the backs of the unsuspecting, who fled in panic. At first, the residents managed to defend themselves from the invader’s clumsy molestations. But as time crept by, their tormentor gradually grew adept at seizing its hapless victims and maintaining its depraved embrace.
Whatever charms, if any, this thing might have for its own kind were lost on those who inhabited the wallow. They wished only to be left undefiled and in peace, but it was not to be. The grim persecution lasted a seeming eternity until, weighed down under a thick coating of the wallow’s luxurious mud, the intruder lost its appetite for pursuit and slowly dragged itself back to its rightful side of the fence. Its victims were left to try to recover what they could of their shattered composure.
A morose Spike was packing up Twilight’s books and other paraphernalia. The best laid plans of baby dragons had not played out as hoped, and Spike was left to grumble under his breath about the unfairness of life.
“… and when you try to make yourself useful, they say ‘no’.”
“Now, Spike,” countered Applejack, “you know what Rarity said. She called you ‘a perfect gentledragon’ when you offered to rassle her, and said this one time what she needed was more of a ‘ruffian’.”
“I could be a ruffian,” Spike pouted.
Applejack felt a pang of sympathy for the despondent dragon.
“Spike, I don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Spike brightened visibly. “You really think so?”
Instead of answering, Applejack turned to address Rarity, who was moving with all the haste of one of Equestria’s slower glaciers.
“Hang on, Rarity. I got somethin’ for ya.”
Rarity was a pony in pain. Every bit of her was sore from her elegantly sculpted eyebrows to the tip of her tail. My tail? How is that even possible?
She knew that as badly as she was hurting now, in the morning she would have less mobility than a rocking pony. Not that Applejack would take that as an excuse to miss training, a ritual that Rarity’s sadistic trainer was insisting on every day until the contest. The days ahead promised to be nothing but hell in Equestria. With a stab of guilt, Rarity wondered if Fluttershy was enduring similar torments. Why hadn’t Rarity just said “no” to this death march when she had the chance?
Rarity had rid herself of the worst of the mud, which had found its way into places she never even knew she had. She was desperate to repair her appearance, or at least restore it to the point where townsponies wouldn’t retreat in horror at her approach. But that would mean getting to Ponyville’s one beauty parlor, assuming they didn’t bar the door against her.
Rarity set out at best possible speed, an awkward shuffle nearly as painful to watch as it was to perform. She heard Applejack call, and made the almost imperceptible transition from full speed ahead to full stop. Applejack trotted up, unconcerned that Rarity was at death’s door.
Applejack lifted the flap of her saddlebag, extracted a small coin purse, and slapped it down atop a fencepost.
“For me?” said Rarity.
“For your charity. Thirty bits. Only wish it could be more.”
Despite feeling like she had been worked over by an army of professional pony beaters, Rarity was touched by Applejack’s gesture.
“Why, Applejack, thank you so much for your generosity. I know you’re aware of the good this will bring.”
“Aw, shoot. It was only right you get it. I gotta tell ya, today was the best entertainment I’ve had since Big Mac slipped cleanin’ out the septic tank. I don’t know what you’re chargin’ for tickets, but it can’t be near enough if your match with Fluttershy is even half of what I saw today.”
The week before the match was a flurry of activity, and training was only a part of it.
Applejack’s marketing predictions proved true. A few posters in popular hangouts like Sugarcube Corner had been more than enough promotion. Word of mouth along with the novelty of mud wrestling meant that, within 48 hours, every resident of Ponyville knew about the upcoming match.
Unsurprisingly, Applejack sold more tickets than any three other ponies combined. Compared with convincing Rarity and Fluttershy to compete, separating even the most skeptical prospects from their bits was mere foal’s play for the persuasive pony. Meanwhile, Rarity’s other friends hadn’t been idle. Their efforts, combined with Applejack’s, easily broke all records for sales.
Brisk ticket sales created a problem of its own, that of securing a big‐enough venue. Fortunately, there was a natural amphitheater at the edge of town with the needed capacity. Mayor Mare authorized its use, and Applejack coaxed her big brother and a few of his cronies to prepare the site. Their major task was the excavation of a square, shallow pit. Filled with rich, gooey mud, it became a more‐than‐serviceable wrestling ring.
By the day of the match, everything was in place.
Rarity and Applejack had taken on an enormous load of work, but it was Fluttershy who in some ways bore the heaviest burden in the week before the competition. When she thought objectively about her training, she didn’t find it particularly onerous. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had been nothing but cheerful and supportive in the days following that first awful session. Since then, there had not been so much as a single raised voice or cross word. Indeed, Rainbow and Pinkie seemed genuinely pleased with Fluttershy’s progress and had showered her with praise. They were also solicitous of Fluttershy’s feelings. They wanted her experience to be as pleasant as they could make it. Fluttershy was always careful to say that everything was fine, everything was… nice.
Why shouldn’t everything be nice? Rainbow and Pinkie were happy, and, according to them, Fluttershy was going to do a fine job of wrestling for Rarity. Yet the happier Rainbow and Pinkie were, the sadder Fluttershy became.
The truth was, little by little, Fluttershy was becoming a different pony, a pony she was growing uneasy with. Unaccustomed flashes of irritation would take her by surprise. Once she had shocked herself by stamping her hoof when Angel Bunny refused to eat his lettuce. And there were those disturbing lapses of memory that were occurring more and more often as she trained. But the real cause of Fluttershy’s unhappiness was the thing she would have found hardest to explain, had she been brave enough to talk about it.
Fluttershy missed singing. More precisely, she missed the feeling inside her that made her want to sing. Some very important piece of Fluttershy had disappeared, and with each passing day, the worry grew within her that she might never get it back.
Fluttershy was an easy pony to underestimate, but she knew how to rise to the occasion when either her little animal or pony friends were in need. This week, Fluttershy had given herself over to Rainbow and Pinkie to be remade into the pony that Rarity needed her to be. Rainbow and Pinkie thought it was working. Fluttershy hoped they were right, but right or not, if there was a cost to be paid, Fluttershy was willing to pay it.
The match was minutes away, and spectators were jockeying to stake out the few remaining spots on the grassy slopes overlooking the wrestling ring. Tethered directly over the ring was the balloon from which Mayor Mare and Twilight Sparkle would cast their voices to the crowd. At opposite corners of the ring, the champions of the two contesting camps stood thinking their final thoughts before battle.
If Rarity was nervous, it was only because she wanted to give the waiting throng the best performance she possibly could. For Rarity, life was a play and she was its star. She might on rare occasion fall prey to hysterics or throw a genuine temper tantrum, but for the most part, her life was a role played to an audience. If she could wrap a pack of slobbering Diamond Dogs around her manicured hoof, she wasn’t about to let a little mud wrestling competition throw her off stride.
No, Rarity saw her time with Applejack less as training and more as rehearsal. If the role demanded she wallow in the mud, then so be it. What made Rarity nervous was how Fluttershy would perform. She really had meant to see her dear friend that week and work with her to make sure the crowd got the show it deserved, but between training and selling tickets and producing and running a business, there was always something else that needed doing. Deep down, though, she knew that was only a handy excuse. She had avoided Fluttershy because she couldn’t bear to be reminded of the burden she had imposed on her friend.
Now it was time for the contest, and Rarity was afraid that Fluttershy might not make it ten seconds in the ring, that is, if she made it into the ring to begin with. If so, then Rarity would blame nopony but herself.
For her part, Fluttershy was worried about the very same things as Rarity. She knew that she of all ponies was not cut out for wrestling, but she also knew that she had taken on a duty to her friend. Fluttershy sent off a silent prayer. Please, let me make Rarity happy.
The moment had come. High above the ring, Mayor Mare took her place before the megaphone and looked out over the sea of ponies that had assembled.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, as mayor of Ponyville it is my great honor to welcome you all to a historic first for our fair town. Today we shall witness an athletic competition the likes of which have never been seen anywhere in Equestria.
“The number of ponies I see here fills me with pride in our community and its generous spirit. The tickets you have bought mean that deserving colts and fillies will have access to educations that will let them fulfill their potential and become the kind of citizens Equestria will need in the years ahead. For your contribution to the future of our great land, I commend you all.
“There can be no better example of the fruits of education than Ponyville’s very own Twilight Sparkle. She joins me here today to officiate and announce today’s match. Twilight, the megaphone is yours.”
Twilight stepped forward. While she had kept steady company with Team Rarity throughout the preceding week, it was always with her nose stuck inside some book on Equestrian sports history. Among the Seven – the six Elements of Harmony and Spike – she was the one universally agreed to be non‐partisan and eligible for officiating duties.
“Thank you, Mayor. The contestants in today’s match are Rarity and Fluttershy. The match will be a single round, three minutes in duration. To score a win, a contestant must pin her opponent’s shoulders to the ring for a count of three. Magic is not allowed, and the use of wings is limited to no more than one wingbeat in any three‐second period. Failure to observe these restrictions will result in immediate forfeiture of the match.
“Our timekeeper for today’s match is Sepia Tock.”
A light tan pony standing at a neutral corner of the ring bowed to the crowd. Beside him was a table holding a large bell, a striker, and a sand timer bearing a distinct resemblance to his cutie mark.
“The contestants shall take their places,” concluded Twilight.
From their opposite corners, Rarity and Fluttershy clambered into the mud and approached each other. By now, the rigors of the hog wallow had desensitized Rarity to slogging about in the mire. The substitution of Fluttershy for her former porcine sparring partners made the experience almost pleasant.
Fluttershy stood glassy‐eyed. Rarity was anything but assured by her distant expression, but behind that trance‐like mask, Fluttershy was doing everything she could to fulfill Rarity’s expectations of her.
Fluttershy closed her eyes and painted a picture in her mind. There was a bunny… a baby bunny… and its whiskers were twitching in disappointment… and there was a sad look on its pathetic baby bunny face… and its chin was trembling… and tears were welling up in its eyes… and its tiny arms stretched out in supplication… and a piteous cry bleated from its tiny mouth as the tears spilled down its cheeks.
And there was Rarity – haughty, imperious, never more pleased with herself – prancing away with head held high, mane tossed back, and a big, juicy carrot clasped daintily between her teeth.
Ding!
Rarity never knew what hit her. One moment she was scheming to keep Fluttershy in the match for as long as possible. In the next, she was tumbling through space as ground and sky repeatedly swapped places. She somersaulted backward twice before crashing spread eagled and bewildered. What possible explanation could there be for me being sprawled on my belly with mud up my nose?
The crowd roared its approval. From Team Fluttershy’s corner, Rainbow Dash screamed “Flut‐ter‐SHY!” as she punched the air and executed an aerial backflip. Pinkie Pie waved her giant foam finger and yelled “GO GO GO!” while managing to gain even more altitude than Rainbow.
“Ouch! I didn’t see that coming,” said a disembodied voice. Rarity wondered how her thoughts were being echoed from the sky, then realized she was hearing Twilight’s play‐by‐play from the balloon. In the next heartbeat, Rarity regained her orientation and scrambled back to her hooves. Among the valuable lessons she had learned in the wallow was how to rapidly maneuver in the viscous, unforgiving goo.
Fluttershy had apparently not similarly benefited from her training, because she was struggling to get her hooves beneath her. Out of the pure reflexive need to trade tit for tat, Rarity charged and rammed Fluttershy square in the ribs. The pegasus pitched sideways and rolled until she was completely buried beneath a dark, clinging blanket of mud.
Now the cheering came from Rarity’s corner. Applejack let loose with an ear‐splitting “YEEE‐HAWWW” and an explosive air buck. Spike, who was using Applejack’s back as a viewing platform, was almost launched headlong into the ring.
Rarity, seeing the results of her angry charge, was instantly filled with remorse. She had just barreled like a runaway freight train into the pony who was supposed to be her dear friend. Fluttershy! You never wanted any part of this, and now look what I’ve done to you.
A figure, liberally coated in mud, slowly rose from the mire like an apparition. Rarity’s heart was broken by what she had done to her friend. I’m the worst pony ever. Oh, Fluttershy, I’m so sorry for all of this.
Rarity was ready to rush to her friend, to comfort her, to beg her forgiveness, to call a halt to this barbarous spectacle even if it meant repaying every last ticket holder out of her own purse. The guilt‐ridden unicorn took two steps forward.
The mud‐cloaked figure opened its eyes.
Rarity froze in her tracks, the blood congealing in her veins. Whatever those eyes belonged to, it could be nothing remotely equine. Glittering with malice, they were the eyes of a predator, eyes that regarded her as dispassionately as Rarity might regard a particularly succulent dandelion.
Those eyes. Oh, Celestia, those eyes. Rarity was fixed to the spot. Then a tiny, malevolent grin broke through the mud, and an arctic blast penetrated to the core of the horror‐stricken pony.
Rarity had seen that look before. Normally an inert wad of fur, Rarity’s cat Opalescence was a creature transformed in the presence of a mouse. Opal would toy with her prey with cruel enthusiasm until boredom set in. Then she would feed. Rarity had no trouble imagining the thing before her, full and content, picking its teeth with her bones.
A pair of feathery yellow wings was next to erupt from their muddy shroud. Rarity thought she might be facing some chimera from the Everfree Forest that had somehow incorporated Fluttershy’s wings into its makeup. But when had Fluttershy’s wings ever shown such a majestic spread? Those were the wings of a griffon or some immense bird of prey, surely not those of a gentle pegasus.
While Rarity stood transfixed, those imposing yellow wings gave one tremendous beat as hind limbs pistoned. The last of the muddy cocoon fell away leaving the mystery creature fully revealed as it arced gracefully through the air.
Impressive was Rarity’s last thought before she was thrown onto her back. It was like being bowled over by a very soft, very silky cannonball. There, standing atop her, was something that bore a vague resemblance to Fluttershy, but had the wildly twisted features of a thing possessed. Its eyes were alight with a mad incandescence, and its mouth gibbered unintelligibly, although Rarity made out something that might have been “carrot thief”.
Whatever this thing was, it was playing no games and taking no prisoners. Rarity was struck by a cold reality. She was a hairsbreadth away from losing a contest in which losing was not an option. She was in a fight, and she knew it.
If Fluttershy had stayed low and straddled Rarity with her weight on her knees, the contest would have been over. But in her over excitement, Fluttershy reared back on her hind legs preparing to plant her hooves and pin Rarity’s shoulders in the mud. Rarity rolled sideways, knocking one of Fluttershy’s legs out from beneath her. The off‐balance pegasus toppled nearly on top of her. Rarity scrambled frantically to her hooves, but too late. Fluttershy had managed to put enough distance between them that Rarity couldn’t regain the initiative.
It took very little time for the ponies to work out their relative strengths and weaknesses. When they were separated, Fluttershy held the edge in mobility. She could lunge at Rarity at will. But in the clinches, it was Rarity who held the advantage. If Fluttershy was to win, she would have to strike quickly and precisely. Anything less than a decisive attack would give Rarity time to regain the upper hoof. This would not be a simple contest for either party to win.
Rarity and Fluttershy circled each other warily, Rarity waiting for the instant when Fluttershy came to her. Having once been burned, the unicorn took care not to make eye contact with her hypnotic opponent.
Sensing an opportunity, Fluttershy sprang. This time Rarity was ready. She pitched forward and met Fluttershy with her back. Rarity was crouched down on her forelimbs when her opponent made contact. Rarity bucked straight up with everything she had, and Fluttershy, unable to secure a hold, skidded off to land behind Rarity. Rarity spun and leapt blindly, her only aim being to close with Fluttershy before the pegasus could collect herself.
Rarity pancaked on top of Fluttershy, knocking the wind out of both of them. Any thought of strategy evaporated. Both ponies continued to observe the restrictions on magic and wing use, but beyond that the contest descended into nothing more than a wild melee.
Twilight, from her perch in the balloon, had up to this point been barely able to follow the action and report it to the ground. Now, though, she found it impossible to tell which writhing pony was which, much less keep track of what legs were attached to what bodies. She might just as well stare down into one of Pinkie Pie’s bubbling pots of chocolate fondue and try to narrate that.
Twilight’s mouth was demanding reportage that her brain could no longer supply. Desperate to throw something into the breach, Twilight’s brain tapped into the freshest vein of information at its disposal.
“I feel obliged to note that the match being held today in no way resembles wrestling as it was practiced during the time of the old Equestrian Games, the last of which concluded, as it happens, exactly 437 years ago last Tuesday…”
Having completely jumped its tracks, but with a sizable body of recently acquired research to draw from, Twilight’s mind continued to pump out an extemporaneous account of Equestrian wrestling down through the ages.
Behind Twilight, the mayor listened with a growing sense of wonder. She really does know how to give one heckuva lecture. It’s a pity that probably no pony on the ground is hearing a single syllable of it.
It was true, of course. As the contestants increasingly resorted to biting, scratching, mane pulling, and eye gouging, the enthusiasm and volume of the crowd mounted. The roar of the crowd was enough to drown out the screams, snarls, grunts, and howls of the contestants even to those standing right at ringside. In the days to come, Nurse Redheart would tend to a never‐ending stream of local citizens with vocal cord injuries – Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and a diminutive dragon among them.
None of this made the slightest difference to Twilight. As far as she was concerned, her narration was getting the kind of thunderous reception an academic dissertation deserves. If there is such a place as a geek version of “the zone”, then Twilight was deep at its center.
On the ground, the battle continued to escalate. Ponies who had expected nothing more than a novelty act would in future years brag of having witnessed “the Rumble in the Mud Hole”. Nopony could tell who was doing what to whom, and nopony cared. It was enough that two ponies were joined in a titanic free‐for‐all with no quarter asked and none given.
It was a scene of utter chaos that might have been choreographed by Discord himself. There were moments when both contestants were locked together flailing away on their backs. The impression was of a monstrous spider, caught in its death throes, waving all eight legs uselessly in the air. Gouts of mud sailed far out of the ring to strike spectators who, in their excitement, barely noticed. Any stranger who happened to pass would leave convinced that Ponyville was giving birth to a new volcano.
Ding!
The three‐minute bell rang out. The wrestlers sprang apart, but, rather than stopping for Twilight to announce a result, they once again began to circle. The crowd held its collective breath in anticipation of whatever was to happen next. The resulting silence was broken only by the conclusion of Twilight’s narration.
“… and that’s how the modern era of wrestling in Equestria was made,” Twilight announced triumphantly.
The savage glow in the eyes of the combatants smoldered on for several uncomfortable moments, but then began to cool. Breathing eased and motion slowed as the two ponies moved closer to each other. A murmur rippled through the throng of spectators, as they wondered just what direction the match was about to take.
The battling ponies stopped and faced each other with perhaps three feet between them. They timidly approached, then seized one another in a fierce hug that squirted mud three rows into the ringside audience. There was a moment’s excitement among the crowd, but no return to tugging and biting and yanking. Instead, there were two ponies speaking into each others' ears so softly as not to be overheard. For these two, the crowd and its din simply ceased to exist.
“Oh, Rarity. Please be all right. The very, very last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
“Fluttershy, I’m the one who needs to apologize.” Tears cut through the mud that caked Rarity’s face. “I knew you didn’t want to do this, but you did it – and magnificently if I may add – because I asked, and you were my friend. You were generous, loyal, and kind, and I took all that for granted. I’m sorry that I was nowhere near as good a friend to you as you were to me. Can you ever forgive a spoiled, foolish pony who lost track of what’s important?”
It was now Fluttershy’s eyes that welled with tears. She had her friend back. What’s more, she had herself back. Fluttershy felt like singing.
“Rarity, you’re my friend. Always.”
Rarity allowed herself a couple of sniffles, then held Fluttershy just far enough from her that they could see each other face to face.
“You’ll think me silly, but at this moment the one thing I want more than anything else is to be wrapped in seaweed and left to soak in a tubful of hot mud. But only if I’m with my spa buddy. What do you say, spa buddy? I’m treating.”
Fluttershy’s smile was all the affirmation Rarity needed. She let her gaze linger on the face of her friend, then peered over Fluttershy’s shoulder to see Applejack and Spike cheering madly from her corner. It hardly seemed right to celebrate alone.
“You know, Fluttershy, I think we deserve some company.”
Applejack was not about to keep her displeasure a secret, even if it meant further abusing her screamed‐out voice. “Me takin’ a mud bath was not part of the deal,” she grumped from her tub. “Buried up to my neck. Now I know how a fencepost feels.”
“Turnabout is fair play,” said Rarity. She was finding the mud a soothing balm, and given the hard use she’d been put to that week, there was quite a bit of her that needed soothing. “Besides, I don’t remember doing a lot of tail twisting to get you here.”
“Well, after all the ruckus you made about this place, I figured I needed to come see what all the fuss was about.”
“And what about the price list you asked Lotus for when you thought no pony was listening?” Rarity teased.
“I just wanted to find out how many bits highfalutin fillies like you ’n’ Fluttershy are crazy enough to part with for this kind of foalishness.”
“Of course, dear.” Rarity was looking forward to the day she caught Applejack visiting the spa on her own. Applejack’s explanation would no doubt be as inventive as it was entertaining. “You should know, by the way, that wearing your hat in the baths is considered unfashionable.”
A retort was nearly to Applejack’s lips when she spotted the cucumber slices covering Rarity’s eyes. “Waitaminute. How did you know–?”
Applejack might command the high ground at the farm or market, but she was on Rarity’s turf now.
“Applejack,” said Rarity, as if lecturing a yearling, “how long have we known each other?”
In a neighboring tub, Pinkie Pie was wriggling around in goggle‐eyed astonishment. “How did I not know about this? This is better than chocolate rain, and nothing is better than chocolate rain.” A blinding revelation struck Pinkie. “Chocolate. This needs to be chocolate.”
Meanwhile, Twilight was still basking in the acclaim of the multitudes. Her balloon might have landed quite some time ago, but Twilight was only now completing her descent from the heavens. She dreamed of a world in which academic institutions offered public lectures from fleets of airships.
For Fluttershy, the stings of the last week were as much mental as physical. The spa’s mud proved to be the unsurpassed remedy for both. Swaddled in its steaming embrace, Fluttershy blissfully surrendered herself to the pleasures she had been cheated of the week before.
Rainbow Dash was another story entirely. For her the mud was an acquired taste that she was a long way from acquiring. The unnatural sensation of burial in liquid dirt held little appeal for a creature of the air like Rainbow. It was enough to give a pony claustrophobia.
“I dunno, Fluttershy. Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea for me,” croaked Rainbow in a voice left raspy from cheering.
“But, Rainbow, wait till you see the wonderful things this does for your wing feathers. Mine always come out so soft and fluffy.”
“Soft? Fluffy?” Rainbow could imagine nothing worse. There was an angry buzz of wings, a spray of mud, then Rainbow was hovering over her tub with just the tips of her hooves dipping into the bath. “That’s gonna wreck my aerodynamics!” She stared down with the anxious look of a pony expecting crocodiles to leap snapping from the tub.
“Oh, Rainbow,” cooed Fluttershy, “we need to fix your attitude.”
It was Applejack who commented on the missing seventh of the six Elements of Harmony. “I bet Spike’s doin’ a slow burn over not bein' invited to this shindig.”
“Not at all,” replied Rarity. “In fact, he seemed rather relieved when I suggested that the mud baths were not the proper place for him. I think he’s had quite enough of muddy ponies for a while.
“I’ve promised to make it up to him, though. My fashions just brim with gems and precious metals, and I know all the local tradesponies who specialize in polishing them. I told Spike I would personally accompany him to have his spines and scales burnished. Unless I am very much mistaken, and in matters of fashion I seldom am, Spike will soon be the most dazzling dragon in all of Equestria. I think he was rather taken with the idea.”
Applejack and Twilight exchanged knowing looks. There was no doubt in either pony’s mind that Spike found Rarity’s proposal more than agreeable. Twilight wondered if there would be any living with the dragon who had the flashiest suit of scales in the land.
As the heat of the mud worked its way into her, Rarity’s aches, pains, and worries receded. They belonged to the past now. What remained was the glow of accomplishment. Our accomplishment, she was quick to correct herself.
They had all had a hoof in the final result, but it was Fluttershy who had left a deep impression on Rarity. She touched a tender spot on her flank that by next day would be a massive welt. Make that several deep impressions.
There were still things for Rarity’s friend to know. “Fluttershy, I’m ashamed to say I had my doubts about you. I had no idea you’d be able to compete the way you did. You’d think I’d know you better by now.”
“I understand, Rarity. I didn’t think I could do it, but Rainbow did, and Pinkie did, and deep down inside I think maybe you did too.”
Maybe I did at that, Rarity thought. If she had taken Fluttershy for granted, it was because a part of her knew that her friend would come through no matter what.
“Rainbow and Pinkie believed in you, and they were right,” said Rarity. “I promise to believe in you too from now on. I’d like to see you join the club. You’re a stronger pony than you think.”
“Thank you, Rarity. Maybe I will,” said Fluttershy. She savored a moment’s contentment, then continued. “I’m glad this is over, but I’m glad I did it.”
Maybe it was because she was bone tired, and maybe it was her imagination, but Rarity thought she heard a little something extra in Fluttershy’s voice. She wouldn’t be the last pony to think so. It now held a touch of self-assurance, a hint of confidence, that hadn’t been there before. Catch Fluttershy on the right day, and a pony might even see the merest suggestion of a swagger in her step. Why not? As far as Fluttershy was concerned, when you were one of Ponyville’s roughest, toughest wrestlers, a bit of swagger came with the territory.
Acknowledgements
Render unto Hasbro the things that are Hasbro’s. It’s their sandbox; I’m just playing in it.
Thanks first and foremost to the redoubtable Vanner for encouraging me, counseling me, and holding my feet to the fire.
Thanks also to those at ponychan/fic/’s Training Grounds and everyone else who took the time to share their reviews and advice. This story is a better one because of you.
I've been a fan of deviantART's Spurkeht since discovering that his "CM... Q... Adventures" series is the best thing ever. (The first one will stand alone, but be sure to see all three.) I was lucky enough to commission him for the cover art, and he delivered in spades.