Peppermill wants a rare cooking utensil, but can he earn the money in time?
Every twenty years Pygg Iron, Equestria's premier metalworker makes a select amount of cast iron pans. They are considered the holy grail of Equestrian cooking, and only the very best chefs can wield one. When Peppermill learns that Ponyville will have the opportunity to sell just six, he goes on a crusade to earn the money to get one. But his firm beilef of not taking money for cooking could make it difficult...
Mr Merritt sez: expect smaller chapters for this one as I use my infamous (just write on the computer until it looks/feels right method of writing.
Twilight Sparkle, always looking for new ways to increase the patronage at the Ponyville Library, had hit upon a veritable grand slam of an idea. After a discussion with her good friend Rarity, the lavender mare had decided upon the controversial (for Equestria, at least) idea of lending out monthly periodicals alongside the usual reading material. Despite some initial misgivings with the ponies who ran the town’s only newsstand, the Element of Magic had managed to gather a wide selection of newspapers and magazines to offer to the users of the library.
Once the news of these new materials had spread, the big tree in the middle of Ponyville had become extremely popular and crowded. While most of the adult ponies were happy to borrow and take home the new items, a lot of the younger ones preferred to do their reading in the building itself. While Twilight was thrilled to see so many eager minds devouring the literature, her number one assistant was decided less happy about the situation.
It was that Spike didn’t approve of the dramatic increasing in readership, for he shared Twilight’s high opinion of the written word. But with all the colts and fillies now occupying every available inch of floor space on an almost daily basis, it made doing his daily library chores that much more difficult. The baby dragon might not have been the type to shun hard work, but there were limits to his patience for how little free time he seemed to be having as of late.
Today was no exception to the new rule, and Spike was struggling through his shelving with a forced smile. He was particularly annoyed by the fact that most of the new readers seemed to actively plop themselves down exactly where he needed to be, whether it was in front of a bookshelf or in front of the wheeled cart he now used instead of going back and forth from the circulation desk. It seemed no matter where he went he found his optimal path blocked by young pony flesh.
“We do have designated places to sit you know…” muttered the baby dragon as he danced around a pair of young fillies who had their snouts buried in what he recognized as one of the fashion magazines Rarity had a sizable collection of. They were oblivious to the grumpy reptilian as he skirted around their swishing tails and longing gazes at the beautiful dresses worn buy equally beautiful mares.
Managing to put the armful of books back onto their proper shelves, Spike turned away from the fillies only to near trip over a familiar grey Earth colt that was leafing through a different magazine. The fact that he was probably the last pony Spike would have expected to not obey the rules was surprising, as was his apparent choice of literature.
“Canterlot Today? I never would have expected you to be interested in something like that Peppermill.” remarked the dragon as he sidestepped the colt.
“Sometimes when I got…bored back at the…restaurant I would…look through some of…Mother’s magazines. I like to see if…I recognize any of the ponies…from conversations or…who might have come to dine.” explained the grey colt with a lop-sided smile. “Besides, it helps…whenever I suddenly feel…homesick for Canterlot.”
“You can’t take the city out of the pony huh?” laughed Spike. Peppermill responded with a chuckle and a nod. Spike turned away to get back to his duties when he was stopped by a sudden noise. The gasp was significant enough to make him glance over his shoulder back at the source, which was the youngest Apple pony. Something in the magazine had got his attention, and he was looking anxious.
“Spike, this was…last month’s edition, right?”
“Um, yeah it is.”
“And shouldn’t…the new one be available…by now?”
“Yeah, we usually don’t get a copy to lend until a day or two after the newsstands get them.”
“Or…the mail for subscribers?”
“Probably…”
“I bet…Rarity would have…a copy of that one, right?” The colt was growing more and more excited, and all Spike could manage was a nod of agreement before Peppermill quickly pushed his now forgotten magazine into the dragon's arms and jogged out of the building.
“What was all that about?” wondered Spike out loud.
***
A surge of hope flooding through Peppermill made him break into a full gallop the second he stepped out of the library towards the Carousel Boutique. Memories of his past life, and one particular bit of knowledge about his late parents urged him to duck and weave among the other ponies on the street. He had to make certain that what he had just read was not a misprint or a cruel (in his opinion) joke.
It wasn’t long before her arrived at the shop, and he burst through the door. Normally, Peppermill was not the type to lean towards excitable behavior, for he felt he had a certain mature reputation to live up to. But his discovery and its implications, not to mention the need to verify the facts made him slightly reckless. Before the tiny chime over the entrance had even finished he heard the familiar, cultured voice of the dressmaker sing out.
“I’m in the kitchen Sweetie Belle!” The colt gave a small chuckle at the thought of being mistaken for the mare’s younger sister. It was understandable, given just how excitable the little filly could get. Peppermill noted the voice had come from the little kitchen off of the main show floor, and headed there. Sure enough, Rarity was at her kitchen table, levitating a cup of tea to her lips as she scanned an opened magazine before her.
“I’m sorry to…interrupt your break…Rarity but this…is really important.”
“Peppermill darling! What a pleasant surprise. Do come in and pour yourself a cup.”
“No thank you. Please tell me…that is the most recent edition…of Canterlot Today?”
“Why of course it is darling. Ditzy Doo delivered it less than an hour ago. Why do you want to look at it?”
“I just want…the section where they…print special announcements and…events across Equestria.” Her curiosity piqued, the pure white mare allowed the colt to take a hold of the publication and leaf through the pages. Eventually the little chef found what he was looking for because he began to recite from the page out loud, his voice growing more and more excited with every word:
MANEHATTEN – Canterlot Today is proud to announce the six locations where famous metal shaper and blacksmith Pygg Iron will be allowing his Cast Iron Pans to be sold. As it is well known, Mr. Iron only makes thirty-six of these superb kitchen utensils ever twenty years. Chefs all across Equestria covet these pans for their superior heat retention, durability and high quality. Six hoof-chosen sellers of fine cookware across six randomly chosen cities and towns across the kingdom are expected to receive these utensils no later than the middle of this month. Given the scarcity and infamy of these items, they are expected to sell out quickly.
“Manehatten…Las Neighgas…oh!” Peppermill just about tumbled out of his seat, and pointed with a trembling hoof at the page. “Rarity…please tell me…that says what…I think it says?” The mare peered at the point in the paragraph the colt was motioning to, and then gave a gasp of surprise.
“Dear Celestia…Ponyville! Ponyville is going to be selling these pans! What an absolute honor!”
“This is more…than an honor! This…is the…greatest news…I have ever heard! I…I have to have one!” The unicorn mare watched in fascination as the colt began to look more and more excited, practically bouncing in place not unlike a certain pink party mare she knew. She couldn’t recall every seeing the normally composed colt so jubilant.
“Oh!” The colt suddenly stopped in mid-bounce, a look of panic on his face. He managed to avoid falling with a thud on Rarity’s kitchen floor, as he gave her a look of distress. “I…I have to…go home. I have to…count out how many…bits I have saved.” And with that, Peppermill was a grey blur as he took off out of the back door.
“My…” Rarity found herself looking over the article herself, amazed at the reaction from her little friend. But then she spotted a small sentence in regards to the cost. It might have been hard to believe, but a white pony paling was as spectacular a sight as a red one blushing.
Few ponies knew just how many bits tended to find their way into Peppermill’s hot little hooves. While one might assume that they were from some sort of daily allowance, that wasn’t the Apple way. If you wanted spending money at Sweet Apple Acres, you earned it. But when you tended to be stopped on the street and asked advice on preparing everything from sandwiches to soup, from appetizers to main dishes to desserts it didn’t take long for your meal-saving tips to earn you respect and…gifts.
For a long time Peppermill flatly refused to accept these tokens of gratitude, citing he was just being helpful and not looking for compensation. But as his culinary needs began to grow, he began to feel slightly bad for constantly relying on the Apple clan for them. Despite Applejack’s constant claims of “jus’ barely makin’ ends meet” the orchard provided plenty of financial comfort for the family. Even so, the grey colt’s need for independence resulted in him grudgingly accepting aid of money when he received it from grateful ponies and their full stomachs.
Despite his youth, the grey pony was not so naïve as to think he even had remotely enough bits to earn one of Pygg Iron’s creations. But he wanted to have a good idea of what he had, and what he needed, before he cooked up a plan for earning the funds he desired. This is why the colt ran all the way from downtown Ponyville to Sweet Apple Acres, something he normally would never do. Whatever adrenaline and desire that fueled his trip was long gone by the time he more or less dragged himself onto the front porch of the farmhouse, wheezing like a bellows.
“Cooks…*wheeze*…don’t run.” moaned Peppermill as he trudged into the porch swing to catch his breath. While he could have very easily lingered on the swing, he had no time to lose. He needed a clear picture of his finances and the only way to do that was to check the piggy bank he kept on his bookshelf in his room. And that meant having to climb the stairs to the farmhouse’s second floor, which given his current state would be like climbing a mountain.
“I really…*pant*…have to consider…getting into…better shape.” Peppermill managed to get into his room without much incident, and went through the process of emptying his piggy bank.
“Um…let’s see…five…ten…twenty…” Unlike some of his friends, the grey colt coveted his little ceramic holder of his bits, and hated the thought of actually breaking it. So he vigorously shook the container until he was certain the rattling sound was his teeth and not coins against clay. “This…is definitely not nearly…enough to buy even…a stamp-sized piece…of cast iron.”
The cook now faced a dilemma. He needed lots of money really fast, but he hadn’t the slightest clue how to get it. As obvious as it might have seemed to anypony that he had a perfectly good way of earning more than enough bits to get a pan, it wasn’t so black and white as it appeared on the surface. Peppermill’s late father Pepperoncini was a firm believer in cooking for the sake of cooking, and not for profit. Peppermill felt the same way, and so that was simply out of the question. One might argue it was nothing more than stubbornness and pride, but the grey colt didn’t care.
“I’m not…just a one trick…pony. There has to be…things I can…do around Ponyville that…others are willing to…give me bits to do.” Peppermill pondered this for a while, and was so absorbed in his thinking he never heard the knock on his bedroom door. It wasn’t a hoof gently shook him that looked up into the green eyes of his elder sister.
“Shoot, and here I wuz hopin’ ahd hafta get a bucket of water ta wake ya up.” The teasing grin on the lips of the Apple mare was enough to make Peppermill give a snort.
“I’m sorry to…disappoint you Applejack.” Peppermill gave a sigh as he began to put his bits back into the piggy bank. “I’m having some…money issues.”
“Ya cain’t live an’ work on a farm without having those sugarcube.” admitted the mare reproachfully.
“You wouldn’t…happen to know of…any ponies in town…that might need some help? Help that…would result in…bits being exchanged?”
“Well, ah know there are a lot of places lookin’ fer some help.” Applejack gave a little sigh. “But ah reckon they would be lookin’ fer a pony a bit…older.”
“Oh bother…” Peppermill knew that his age would be a big hurdle to overcome. But he wanted, no he needed one of those pans.
“Any particular reason why yer needing money sugarcube? Is there anything yer kin can help ya with?”
“Um…” Peppermill found himself pausing. While under any other circumstances he would have gladly accepted any help he could, but once again his pride kept him from being too specific. As frugal as the Apples could be, and while not remotely the Element of Generosity, the colt knew that given half a chance Applejack would move the heavens and earth to get him what he desired.
“I…saw something in…a magazine today. It’s something…I’d really like to…own. But it’s kind of…expensive.” Peppermill was grateful that he didn’t have to stretch the truth about the situation. After all, not only was Applejack seemingly unable to tell a direct lie, but she always had a knack for sniffing out fabrications told to her. And she was the kind of pony who tended to speak her mind when lied to, and that usually resulted in a verbal beat down that would have made most ponies to prefer a swift buck to the head.
“Well, ifin it’s something you really want sugarcube, ahm sure you’ll figure something out. Jus’ remember: ya can always count on yer friends to help.” Applejack smiled warmly to her little brother, and left the colt to his pondering. As she left, the colt suddenly blinked.
Twilight Sparkle, a researcher to her core, tended to go through lots of paper and quills. It was most fortunate that her position as both the Ponyville librarian and student to Princess Celestia entitled her to a very generous wage-slash-allowance. It meant that she didn’t have to do such mundane things as worry about credit and tabs for her finances. It also meant that certain stores in town found themselves sitting on very comfortable profit margins.
One such store was the rather unique retail outlet known as Quills and Sofas. Owned and operated by a handsome brown Earth stallion known as Davenport, or Dave for short, had discovered one of the more…interesting niches in the magical land of ponies. Apparently writing implements and pony-centric furnishings meshed remarkably well, for despite early ridicule his business flourished to the point where it was one of the best non-food related shops in town.
Twilight Sparkle, who was particularly fond of a particular ink that only could be bought at this one store, happily trotted there that early afternoon. As she entered the shop she paused to take a long inhalation through her shout. The pleasant (in her mind, at least) combination of leather and ink lightened her already bright mood. She headed straight for the shelves that held various bottles of ink in a myriad of colors when…
“That will be…eighteen bits please.” The raspy, youthful voice caused the lavender mare to stop in her tracks and snap her head towards where the cash register sat. She knew of only one young pony who spoke with that halting speech, but the fact that the voice came from behind the register as opposed to in front of it threw her off. She trotted to the source of the sound, and what she saw surprised her to say the least.
“Thank you…for your business. Please…come again!” There, having to make use of a small stool in order to reach comfortably over the counter was a familiar grey Earth colt with dark eyes and a dark mane. Attached to his chest was a small badge reading “Hello! My Name Is: Peppermill Apple”
“Peppermill?” exclaimed an astonished Twilight.
“Hello Twilight. How…may I help you?” asked the grey colt cheerfully.
“You’re…working here?”
“Of course…why wouldn’t I…be working here?”
“Well, for one thing you are a bit too…well, young to be at a job….”
“This isn’t…a permanent position Twilight. Mr. Davenport only…needs a bit of…extra help for the…next two days while…he does his monthly…inventory. By running the…register he can…do that without…risking losing a…potential sale.”
“Well, that is nice of you to help. But what do you know about quills? Or sofas for that matter? You are a cook, after all.” Twilight decided not to bring up the fact that she was absolutely certain that there had to be some sort of law against employing a pony as young as the youngest Apple in the first place.
“I’m not expected to…sell anything. I just…have to collect…the customer’s bits. As long as…I have this book…to go by…I’ll be fine.” Peppermill lifted a sizable tome onto the counter, whose title Twilight was able to read (upside-down) as “Sales Catalogue”. “Besides…if I do run into…any trouble Mr. Davenport said…I can call on him. So far everything has been…fine. “
“And believe me Miss Sparkle, I appreciate the effort.” This comment came from the brown Earth stallion with the collar and tie approaching the pair. “Inventory can be quite a trying time when you tend to be your one and only employee.”
“Davenport, are you really sure this is such a good idea? I mean, I know Peppermill is smart and responsible, but he is still just a colt…” In response, the stallion motioned for the mare to follow him. The unicorn obeyed, and left Peppermill to deal with another unicorn mare levitating a small cushion towards the cash desk.
“I can understand your concern Twilight. But as I am sure he explained I only need a bit of help for two days at the most. And that colt can be remarkably…persuasive. He mentioned something about needing money for a pan or some such thing…”
“A pan?”
“That’s what I understand. Besides, the duties I assigned him are as easy as it gets around here.”
“Excuse me?” Twilight and Davenport turned to find the unicorn mare that had passed by them moments earlier before them looking a bit agitated.
“How can I help you miss?” Davenport immediately went into selling mode, for which he was exceptionally good at.
“I just want to buy this one cushion, but the…um…cashier says I can’t.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do to help you miss.” Davenport led the mare to the cash desk while Twilight decided to keep one ear tuned to the situation, a look of concern on her face.
“Peppermill? Is everything ok?” asked the stallion, noticing a unhappy frown on the colt’s face.
“The customer is asking…to buy that cushion…separate from the sofa…it belongs to. There is no…sign of that…cushion in…the book, and you told me…if it isn’t in…the book I can’t sell it.” explained Peppermill.
“Yes, I know I told you that.” agreed the stallion. “But above all is the need to satisfy the customer. If madam wishes to purchase just the cushion, then we will see to it she gets what she wants.”
“Well, then what…good is having this?” exclaimed Peppermill indignantly. “You told me…as long as I…followed what was…in this book…I’d be fine. Now you are…telling me is is…useless?”
“It’s not useless. It’s just a guide. Sometimes you have to substitute or use your own judgement…”
“I hope…you aren’t trying to compare…selling sofas to…cooking. A meal with…a change to its ingredients…is a far cry from…a sofa with a…missing cushion.” Peppermill’s voice was getting more and more raspy, a sure sign of his growing ire.
“I guess retail and hospitality are a little like apples and oranges.” It was meant as a joke to lighten the mood on Davenport’s part. Unfortunately, the small giggle from both the customer and Twilight had the opposite effect on the cook. With a stony expression, the colt carefully removed his nametag and placed it on the counter. With as much dignity as he could push through the anger he spoke evenly to his apparent ex-employer.
“I’m sorry…Mr. Davenport but I think…I should try some other…way of earning bits than this. I…appreciate your…help. I don’t think…I worked long enough…to justify a paycheck. Good day ma’am.” And with that Peppermill stiffly went on his way, leaving the three adult ponies to look at each other with expressions of surprise and guilt.
“I...I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” insisted the unicorn mare unhappily.
“No,” sighed Davenport. “I’m afraid this is my fault entirely. I guess I hadn’t counted on this particular situation to arise.”
“I’m sure Peppermill will be okay. He’s just…well, I think he’s just a little too focused on his goal right now.” explained Twilight. The stallion nodded as he approached the cash desk to ring up the purchase for the mare. In doing so, he removed a small hoofful of bits and offered them to Twilight.
“If you wouldn’t mind Miss Sparkle, I’d like you to make sure Peppermill gets this. He still did some excellent work for me, and I refuse to let him go off without a little bit of compensation.”
“I’ll see to it he gets it Davenport.” agreed Twilight, levitating the coins out of his hoof.
“I can’t help wondering about this pan he seems so keen on. It must be quite impressive for him to want one so badly.” remarked Davenport in a thoughtful voice.
“…and apparently he has been going all over town doing odd jobs earning bits.” Rarity explained to Fluttershy as the two mares made their way to their weekly spa treatment.
“I was reading about Pygg Iron’s pans the other day.” admitted the shy mare. “They are very expensive, but apparently very popular with chefs. It’s no wonder Peppermill wants one so badly.”
“Can you just imagine what he could do with one of those?” tittered the ivory mare.
“It’s too bad he seems to be so, well…stubborn about just asking for one. I’m sure Applejack and the rest of his family would be happy to get him one.” sighed Fluttershy as the spa came into view.
“I know. But that colt has an independent streak a mile wide. Not to mention enough pride to make him a full-blooded Apple pony.” Rarity used her magic to open the door for her friend as they entered the building. As usual, the pretty Aloe was at the reception desk busy writing in an appointment book. But when she looked up and saw her two best customers, she pranced around the counter anxiously and spoke in a low voice.
“Miss Rarity, Miss Fluttershy, you simply must come and see this. It is so charming…” The two friends gave each other a quizzical look, but followed the pretty masseuse into the large area where the mud baths were situated. There, at the far end of the room sitting at a small table was…
“Peppermill?” Fluttershy gasped in surprise as she and her friend watched as the colt busily folded towels from a basket onto a pile on the table. He was so engrossed in his task he never noticed his friends gawking at him.
“Aloe, what in Equestria is going on?” asked Rarity in a fierce whisper. “I thought only members of the staff were allowed to be back here.”
“As of a few hours ago, he became our newest temporary employee.” explained the mare. “He came to me and my sister begging for a chance to earn some money. We simply couldn’t turn him away. Lotus decided that this was the easiest job we could give him.”
“You are aware that he is just a colt, and that most of the clientele are…mares.” As much as Rarity approved of the cook’s incredible maturity, the idea of an impressionable male pony in a room full of females still unnerved her sensibilities.
“Excuse me…please.” came a rushed voice, and Rarity stepped back just as Peppermill came pushing past balancing a basket of freshly folded towel past her to the cupboards that held them. As soon as he had unloaded his linens, he raced back to his table with the empty basket to start all over again.
“As you can see, he is far too busy to be of any concern for the clients. In fact, we have already seen many ponies offer him tips for getting them fresh towels. And he is such a handsome little fellow…” Aloe was clearly hoping that Rarity would accept this explanation, since she was motioning for the mares to head for the steam showers.
***
We need you to make sure we always have fresh towels for the clients whenever they need them, mon cheri. That was the fairly straight-forward, if singular, job duty given to the colt that morning. It sounded like a fairly easy way to earn some money, not to mention a chance to check out a place that had always fascinated him. Peppermill could remember how much his late mother Crème Brule had enjoyed her occasional spa day, and always enjoyed her impressive descriptions of the various activities she took part in.
Rarity has a fit…if her hooves get dusty…yet she willingly bathes…neck-deep in mud. The things a pony…will do to look…fabulous. Of course…Mother did it…herself… Peppermill chuckled to himself as he returned to the rhythm of folding and sorting, pleased at how well things were going. He was so focused on his task he was oblivious to the smiles and titters of the various mares that took notice of him as he busied himself. Even if Peppermill did notice, the only thing he truly cared about at that moment was how much closer he was getting to a Pygg Iron Pan.
As he finished off the next batch of towels, the colt barely registered the approach of the shy yellow Pegasus mare as she minced towards his work station. Fluttershy stood silently, watching as the colt went through another basket of laundered towels. She couldn’t help noting the sheen of sweat on the brow of the colt, though whether it was from concentration or the humidity of the mud baths she was not sure.
“Is everything ok Peppermill? You seem a little…rushed.”
“They go through…so many towels. I can’t…seem to keep up. It…would be nicer…if they would use…only one or two…at a time…” panted the colt. “And it’s so…wet in here…I feel like I need…to be wrung out…like a washcloth.”
“I’d be happy to help you, if that is all right…”
“No Fluttershy. What kind…of employee would…I be if I had…to rely on the customer…to help me…with my work. You just go…and enjoy…the spa.” The yellow mare gave the colt a reluctant look, but turned back to join Rarity who was already settling into one of the mud tubs. As she did, Peppermill finished another batch of towels, and loaded them into the basket beside him. He carefully balanced the container on his back, and power walked past Fluttershy to the cupboards.
It was right about then that things went very, very wrong.
The grey colt had just got past Fluttershy when his fore hoof slipped on a small patch of condensation. This, in conjunction with the sweat that was pouring off of him thanks to the damp heat caused him to slip and slide as if he was on ice rather than tilework.
“Woah…woah…woah!” wailed the cook as he struggled to gain purchase on the slippery floor. All of the ponies in the room could only stare in amazement and growing horror as the colt’s flailing brought him closer and closer to the edge of the mud bath that Rarity had settled into. The mare in question was already sporting a pair of cucumber slices across her sapphire eyes, and was apparently oblivious to the thrashing pony before her.
The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion for everypony watching. Peppermill found himself teetering on the edge of the bath, his basket of towels remarkably still on his back. He grimaced as he felt his balance betray him, realizing the basket was going to be his downfall. He gave a mighty heave, sending the towels flying backwards…straight into the neighboring mud bath (thankfully unoccupied). Unfortunately his attempt to regain his balanced failed, for he now began to fall forward. On his hind legs and forelegs wind milling wildly, the colt gave a wail of dismay as he fell forward…
SPLAT!!!
Nopony moved or even breathed as mud splattered all over the walls and any unfortunate spa patron. It took a few moments before Peppermill dared to open his eyes, to discover he was in an incredibly awkward position. Rarity had not yet sunk into the thick mud, and so he found himself sprawled across the beautiful mare’s chest. One slice of cucumber slipped from her brow, revealing a eye looking at him with shock. Both mare and colt shared a furiously hot blush across their respective cheeks at the realization of their situation.
While he would never admit it out loud, there were days when Peppermill wished he wasn’t as mature as he was. That way he could get away with having a nice, old-fashioned temper tantrum and not feel guilty about it. Given the way his week had been going, he needed to vent his frustration in the worst way. But the little cook, wise beyond his years, had to settle for keeping a tight lid on his annoyance and settled for admiring his soon-to-be prize.
Once the colt had discovered which of Ponyville’s stores would be carrying the six Pygg Iron Cast Iron Pans, it became his proverbial home away from home. Any moment he wasn’t trying to earn some bits or having to do his hoofful of chores at Sweet Apple Acres, he could be found at the store. It reached a point that the store owner, a mule by the name of Mr. Pack, had modified his daily routine around the grey colt.
Every day since he had received his shipment of pans, Mr. Pack always found the colt sitting in front of the window to his store first thing every morning. Sometimes he was staring into the gloom of the sales floor, and other times he was pacing back and forth in front of the building. He always gave the mule a polite, if somewhat tight greeting as he unlocked the door to the store. The colt would then wait exactly five minutes, no more and no less before noising his way into the store to where the cash register sat. It was then that they had what Mr. Pack thoughts of as their usual conversation:
“Good morning…Mr. Pack.”
“Good morning Peppermill.”
“How many…do you have left?”
“I still have all six ready and waiting…”
“Has any pony…come in and…asked about them?”
“No, you are the only pony in Ponyville who seems remotely interested.” Once Peppermill was satisfied that he wasn’t going to run the risk of Mr. Pack running out of any of the half dozen pans in stock, he would be on his way. Despite the brief sense of relief it brought, Peppermill would usually fall back into a dark funk of desperation as he left the store as he pondered his money woes.
The next pony that tells me I should just cook to earn the money is going to get a smack, Celestia help me… Peppermill’s dark mood resulted in him being less than pleasant towards the friendly townsponies that he passed by. That is until he came across maybe the one pony that could brighten his day, if only for a few moments.
“Still pining for your pan, are we?” asked the grey Earth filly, her long white braid bouncing as she fell in step beside the grey colt. Silver Spoon, like the rest of his circle of friends, knew of the various misadventures Peppermill had been experiencing in his quest for bits. Unfortunately, like some of those same friends, she also seemed to thinking making light of his embarrassment was a good idea. “Did you think you could dig up your own iron in the mud?”
“Please…don’t do this…Silver. I’m not…in the mood.” growled Peppermill. “And you make a…much better food critic…than a stand-up comic…”
“Well, I thought it was funny.” Silver Spoon shrugged and went silent as she continued to walk with the colt. Inwardly she was scolding herself, her attempts to lighten the mood having fallen flat. It made her heart ache to see one of her closest friends so down.
“Why is it…so hard to…earn a few bits? I mean, all…sorts of ponies work…for a living…” grumped Peppermill, head bowed and dragging his hooves.
“I suppose it wouldn’t help to mention that I probably won’t have to work a day in my life?” asked Silver Spoon, making another effort at humor.
“You’re right…it wouldn’t…”
“Right…” Filly and colt continued to trudge along, with Silver Spoon’s patience beginning to wear thin. Finally, she snapped angrily at her friend. “Honestly Peppermill, you are so stubborn!”
“Huh…” snorted the colt.
“Would it really and truly kill you to just make a pony or two pay for a hoof-made five course meal? It’s not like you couldn’t do it, and better than any pony else I might add. Nopony would think less of you…”
“Tell me…Silver Spoon…do you remember one…of the things you were…most afraid of when you…finally had the chance…to break free of…Diamond Tiara’s shadow?”
“What does that have to do with this?” demanded the filly angrily.
“You were scared…that nothing you would do…would make anypony see you…as nothing more than…a bully. You wanted so…badly to prove that…you weren’t. Has it occurred to…anypony that maybe…I want to be seen as…capable of things that don’t…center on cooking?” Silver Spoon could only set her mouth in an unhappy pout at this.
“I know everypony…wants me to cook. But my own father had…to scrimp and save…and struggle just so he could…earn enough bits to buy one of those pans. In fact…I remember very clearly…my mother telling me that…he refused to consider…a restaurant before…he had the equipment to use…in it.”
“Your father had one…” A sudden realization of what might be the real reason behind Peppermill’s frustration came to the filly, but before she could act on it the colt spoke once more.
“If I want…to be even remotely as good…as my father was…as a cook I need to go through…the same things he did. I don’t want to have…everything handed to me…as gifts or otherwise. But it seems…that nothing I do…turns out right. Every job…I’ve tried I’ve…failed at. I’m such a…”
“Peppermill Apple, if you even think about finishing that sentence the way I think you want to I’ll never speak to you again!” The ferocity of the filly’s exclamation made the colt genuinely jump in surprise. Silver Spoon spun and planted herself in front of him, halting his progress.
“Listen to me Peppermill.” Silver Spoon stared hard into the colt’s dark eyes. “It’s wonderful that you want to be like your father. It’s…it’s something I really like about you. But every time something goes wrong at one of these odd jobs you beat yourself up so much it is scary. And I’m not just the only one who thinks that.” Peppermill had never seen his friend so livid, and he found it hard to take his eyes off of her.
“Do you know who actually begged me to come and talk to you today?” asked the filly.
“No…”
“Applebloom.”
“Applebloom?!”
“Yes, the one filly that probably cares for you more than I do. The same filly that even to this day still constantly physically plants herself between the two of us whenever she has a chance…”
“She’s just…” mumbled Peppermill.
“I know what it is Peppermill.” Silver’s expression softened. “She told me that I was the only one that could, and I quote, ‘get through that darn foal’s head’”
“That’s a…remarkably good imitation.” managed Peppermill with a weak smile.
“Just don’t tell her I did that or she’ll tear my braid out.” smiled Silver Spoon. “My point is that nopony thinks less of you for…messing up once or twice. Nopony is perfect, after all. And they certainly won’t fault you to swallow all that Apple pride of yours and ask for a bit of help. All we want is for you to be happy, and if that means having to spend a few…well, a lot of bits to do so then so be it.”
For a long few minutes, the two grey ponies stood face-to-face with grim expressions. Finally, with a defeated sigh and slumped shoulders, Peppermill blinked first.
“I wonder…what my parents would…have said if they knew…just how stubborn their…son would be?”
“I think they would be proud of how determined you can be.”
“…thanks Silver. I think…I need to go and…talk to some ponies…about some money.”
Due to the lateness in the day, Peppermill had to wait until after the evening meal to finally find the time to talk to a family member about finances. A quick remark from Granny Smith informed him that the one to deal with was Big Macintosh, for he was the sole Apple who knew the most about whatever profit Sweet Apple Acres made at any given time. If anypony could help the cook, it would be him.
“Come on…hurry up, Big Mac!” The grey colt anxiously led the way outside of the farmhouse towards a far corner of the acreage. As was their custom, colt and stallion liked to spend that last few minutes of daylight enjoying each other’s company and discussing how their respective days went. Recently their discussions had been rather one-sided, as Peppermill had fumed and sulked over his various employment failures. But clearly the colt was far more excited this evening, which relieved the red draft horse immensely.
Finally, the two male ponies reached their special spot: a single apple tree that sat on a small rise away from the rest of its wooden brethren. Peppermill pranced anxiously in place as the big stallion folded his tree trunk legs under his massive barrel and lay down in the cool grass.
“Ok, first off…I want to apologize…for how I have been…acting the last…couple of days. I know that…I have been upsetting everypony…” began the colt.
“Eyup…” was the obvious, and expected, response.
“I guess…I’m not that used to…not succeeding at things. And…getting upset about…it isn’t right…”
“Eyup…”
“It’s just…well…this pan…”
“Pygg Iron’s Cast Iron Pans…”
“Yes…my father Pepperoncini…owned one of those. It was…quite possibly his…most prized possession. The only…time he would ever…cook with it was…if he was making a meal…just for the family. I thought…it was the most amazing…thing I had ever seen.”
“Hmmm…” This thoughtful murmur was followed by a slow nod of the head.
“He told me…that when I was old enough…he would let me…use it. In fact, he said…that one day it would be mine. I always thought…that if I had that pan…I could be as great of a cook…as him.” The memory of this caused an unexpected surge of emotion to the colt, and he suddenly went quiet. He realized to his dismay that he was actually fighting back tears, surprised at just how emotional he was feeling about thinking about his late family.
“Ah reckon that explains a whole lot. We kinda guessed this here pan wasn’t just any old thing.” remarked Big Macintosh slowly.
“No…it isn’t. But…in all honest I was…pretty much shooting myself…in the hoof from…the very beginning.” The stallion raised an eyebrow, to which the colt finally sat beside his brother with a sigh. “Tell me…Big Mac…has there ever been a time…that you wanted to be…known more than for just…being a great apple farmer?”
“Eyup…”
“I know you…wait, what?”
“When I wuz around yer age…ah reckon round the time AJ came back from her adventures in Manehatten,” explained the stallion. “Ah started thinkin’ that ah could have done a better job being a professional athlete than a farmer…”
“Really?” Peppermill was stunned at this frank admission from his elder brother.
“Seemed ah had a knack fer hoofball. Weren’t any other colt who could hustle lahk me, and I reckon ah still hold the record fer longest home run drive. Shoot, ah had a fastball that could have given Miss Dash a run fer her bits…”
“Wow…”
“But it seemed no matter how well ah did on the field, ah always was just that much better in the orchards. Granny always told me ah was just lahk mah pa…” Peppermill looked at Big Macintosh with huge eyes. He couldn’t remember there ever being a time the stallion ever mentioned his own parents in any fashion.
“Ah admit ah wuz torn. Ah wanted to be good at hoofball, but ah wuz so dang good at apple buckin’. It was fine that I had something outside of the farm to do, but ah realized that I had responsibilities to uphold.”
“Um…what exact ‘responsibilities’…do I possibly have?”
“Well, ah reckon you got to be the best cook Equestria has ever seen…”
“…”
“And one of the best Apple ponies as well…”
“…”
“And ah know fer a fact that the best way to do both of those things is to be honest with yerself. Are you a cashier?”
“…no.”
“Are you supposed to be hanging around a spa?”
“No…”
“Yer a cook. And cooks cook.”
“You’re…absolutely right.” Peppermill sighed. “I guess I…was so caught up…in trying to do…a good job at…those others things I…forgot what I was…really good at.”
“And ah reckon you also fergot you ain’t alone. The whole family wants nothing but yer happiness, and we all want to help you any way we can.”
“That is…all well and good…Big Mac. But the kind…of help I need…isn’t that easy…to give.”
“Ah hope ya ain’t been talkin’ to Applejack about our finances?”
“The way…she tells it…we are barely…making ends meet…”
“Ahm gonna tell you something. The honest truth is we ain’t even close to being in the poorhouse…”
“But…”
“AJ…well, ah reckon you know just how serious she takes runnin’ the farm. But that mare ain’t got the faintest idea about things lahk savings accounts and investments and such. Ah have been keeping tabs on our bits fer years, and I ken tell yah we got plenty o’ money. In fact, we all could probably stop farmin tomorrow and the next two or three generations of Ponyville Apples won’t be wanting fer anything.”
“So…why don’t you…explain that…to Applejack?”
“Ahv been trying that fer years. But Apples are stubborn as anything…I reckon that’s why you seem to fit in so well.”
“I think…you mean determination.” smiled Peppermill.
“Hmmm…nah. I reckon its stubbornness.” This finally caused all of the colt’s tension to flow out of him in the form of a belly laugh, with Big Macintosh’s rumbling chuckle running counter.
“Oh please…greatest big brother…in all of Equestria. May…I please…have a few bit to…buy a Pygg iron Cast iron Pan?” Peppermill, now in a playful mood, actually pressed his forehooves together and knelt before his brother in mock supplication.
“
Only ifin ya promise not to take things so seriously, when ya mess up ah mean. We all make mistakes, and mistakes is a part of learnin’ and growin’.”
“I promise…”
“Well, then I reckon we ken see to it you can get yer pan…”
“Thank you…Big Mac.” Peppermill embraced his brother warmly, which the stallion returned with a small smile.
“You’re…what?!?!” The loud, stunned announcement from the colt made Mr. Pack, the mule store owner flinch in surprise and regret. The mule had been slowly falling into a genuine panic since he had opned the shop that morning, and he knew in his heart that this was going to be the end result. Sure enough, he found himself staring down at a completely devastated grey colt.
“When you weren’t in front of the store this morning, I didn’t think anything of it. But Celestia help me as soon as I was behind the counter, the next six ponies that came through the door all asked for Pygg Iron Pans.” All Peppermill could do was soundless work his jaw up and down.
“At first I thought nothing of it. But by the time I had sold the third and there was no sign of you, I actually got worried. It’s not considered proper business etiquette, but for a few minutes I honestly considered taking the last of the pans to the back store room in case you showed up…”
“Slept…in…” rasped Peppermill, his voice barely audible.
“But by the time I had gathered what was left I found myself suddenly selling the last of them. I still can’t quite fathom why all six would sell in less than an hour like that. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me in all my years of retail.”
“All six…just like that.” croaked Peppermill, his mind reeling.
“I’m really and truly sorry son. If it means anything to you, I have no issue in letting you have a sizable discount on anything you see here.”
“No…that’s fine…Mr. Pack. Thank you…anyways…” Peppermill turned around and staggered out of the building on wobbly legs.
***
Peppermill was in no mood to deal with anypony so he half-ran, half-stumbled all the way back to Sweet Apple Acres. Despite all of his options, including his room or his private spot in the barn’s hay loft, he found his legs taking him back to the small rise away from the rest of the busy activity of the farm. It had been just the previous night that he and Big Macintosh had come to their agreement and the cook had been given the bits he needed to afford the pan he so desperately desired. It seemed strangely…fitting for the place for his to mull over how his dream had been squashed like an apple into sauce.
Sitting under the tree and staring blankly out at the horizon, the colt attempted for the seemingly millionth time that morning to digest just what he had been told. For over a week not one single pony in town save for him knew or even cared about the precious cooking utensils held by Mr. Pack. Despite all of the trials he had faced and the rather painful life lessons he learned through them, he had managed to get the precious coin he needed by simply asking his family for it.
But it had been too little too late…
“I can’t shake…the feeling that…I brought this…on myself.” remarked the colt to the air. “I mean…I don’t even remember…how many ponies I told about…those pans. I suppose it is…entirely possible that…I praised a little…too much about them.” Peppermill gave a sigh and closed his eyes as he attempted to recall who might have overheard his worshipful speech about the cast iron pans.
“Who do…I know that could…even afford one of them? Would anypony…even know the proper…way to season or clean one? Would they even…use it or…just consider it a…status item? Ugh…” The thought of one of those pans just sitting gathering dust in a cupboard made him shudder in disgust.
“Twenty years…isn’t that long…of a time, is it? I’m sure that…by then I won’t…have to borrow money…at least, I hope…” Peppermill tried to put on a brave face in light of this realization, but he found it hard. He was ready to just sulk on the rise for the rest of the day when he heard the racing hoofsteps of a pony approaching fast to his location. He glanced over his withers to see his elder sister Applejack racing towards him with an anxious expression on her face.
“Dang nabit Peppermill!” exclaimed the mare crossly as she came to a stop. “Ah wish you’d tell me where you go wanderin’ off to. Ahv been looking fer you everywhere.”
“Sorry Applejack…” the colt apologized soberly. “Is everything…all right?”
“Well ah don’t rightly know. There is a whole mess o’ ponies at the farmhouse lookin fer ya.” explained the mare.
“A bunch of…ponies looking for me?” Curious of this turn of events, the colt followed his sister back towards the big farm house in the middle of Sweet Apple Acres. It turned out Applejack was quite accurate in her statement, for even as they got closer Peppermill recognized quite a few ponies milling about. Peppermill recognized Mr. Davenport, the Spa Twins Aloe and Lotus, Rarity, Twilight Sparkle and Silver Spoon all gathered by the house. All of them looked, well, rather sheepish and they all had…
…
…
…
“You can’t…be serious…” Peppermill felt surprised, shocked and a little annoyed at what he knew had to be six very well-made pan-shaped lumps of iron all sitting at their apparent owner’s hooves. The colt’s hoofsteps became heavy as he stomped over to the gathered group, and with little attempt at civility he thundered.
“What in…the hay…is going on here?” The five adult ponies and single filly all collectively cringed at the colt’s bellow, while Applejack gave him a scolding look. The group seemed to look at one another, trying to silently decide who would attempt to answer the angry colt’s question. Finally, Twilight Sparkle stepped forward.
“I know this might look rather bad, but there is a very good explanation for this Peppermill…”
“Humph…”
“After everything you’ve been saying about these pans, I went and did some research. It turns out I didn’t have to, because when I told Spike about them he got just as excited as you were. I decided that a compromise could be made.”
“A…compromise?”
“Since you and Spike are probably the only two in Ponyville that would make good use of one of these, I figured out a month-by-month planner so that the two of you could share it. I did have to sort of beg Spike to let you take the first month.” With that explanation, Twilight levitated the pan and deposited it at the colt’s hooves.
“I suspect that Miss Sparkle was the one to buy the first pan.” remarked Davenport, taking over the story. “For I understand I arrived to the shop just after she left.”
“Oh?” Peppermill was only half-listening, for his gaze was focused on the pan sitting before him.
“The simple truth is that after how badly things turned out at the shop I decided on a plan. I figured I would buy a pan and then…well, sell it to you. That way you would be guaranteed to have one.”
“Zat is what I had intended, at least until I found out my dear sister was doing things behind my back.” This was the comment from Lotus, who gave her twin a dark look. Aloe, for her part, gave a wince and an apologetic look to both her sister and the colt. “She apparently did ze exact same thing, for ze exact same reason.”
“It appears I may have arrived between the times when Aloe and Lotus purchased their pans.” explained Rarity quickly. “Though I had every intention of giving you the pan as a gift, and I was not about to take ’no’ for an answer.”
“I was going to wait until at least Hearthswarming Eve.” piped up Silver Spoon. “I…wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Well…I am definitely…surprised. By…all of you…” Peppermill gazed at his friends, trying to decide just how to respond to this turn of events.
“Look sugarcube, ah know ya have yer pride and all, but ah wouldn’t look at a gift horse in the mouth.” This comment from Applejack caused a small amount of good-natured chuckling and giggling from the assembled group.
“Why Applejack, I would have never expected you to make a joke like that.” smiled Rarity.
“It sounds like something that Peppermill you say.” giggled Silver Spoon.
“It’s true…it does sound like…a joke I’d make.” admitted Peppermill.
“Well, I reckon yer rubbin’ off on me suagrcube.” grinned the blond mare.
“Nonetheless, she does make a valid point.” Davenport cleared his throat. “I don’t think it is going to be possible for you to refuse all of our gifts.” The colt knew the stallion was right, and he began to think hard. He did this in his usual fashion: he sat on the ground, one foreleg wrapped around his barrel and the other lightly tapping his temple, while his head was cocked to one side, closed eyes and softly talking to himself.
“Deep thinkin’.” murmured Applejack.
“It is a rather important decision. If it helps, I wouldn’t worry too much about offending anypony darling.” announced Rarity, but whether Peppermill heard or not was up to debate. Eventually, the colt gave a grunt as he hopped upright. He approached Twilight and spoke firmly.
“Since I know…that Spike would truly appreciate…a Pygg Iron Pan…not to mention he…is the only one other…than me who would know the…proper way to season and store one…he is welcome to it.”
“I’m sure he’ll make good use of it.” smiled Twilight. The colt turned to the other adult ponies before him.
“As for the rest…of you, all…I ask is that you…do everything you can to…take good care of those pans. Should…you ever want any…advice or recipes…I’ll be happy to offer them.”
“That’s very kind of you. You know, I’ve wondered if I should look beyond just my usual bachelor fare.” chuckled Davenport.
“But what do we do with two pans?” asked Aloe.
“Hmm…perhaps a drawing? Or a contest?” offered the ever shrewd Lotus.
“I’m sure you will find a good way to use your extra pan darling. As for me, I must admit I’ve come across some rather interesting recipes that require one of these pans. I may not be able to match your skill peppermill, but I am no slouch in the kitchen…” beamed Rarity. Her smile was only matched by that of Silver Spoon as Peppermill approached her.
“I’m…not so sure I have…the patience to wait…until Hearthswarming Eve…” admitted Peppermill.
“To be honest, I don’t think I do either.”
“Thank you…Silver Spoon. Not just…for the pan…but for talking…some sense into me.”
“Better I talk than buck like some fillies I know…”
“Huh, all this fuss fer a pan.” Applejack prodded one of the heavy utensils with a forehoof. “Are you sure you can even lift one of these sugarcube?”
“They are kind of heavy.” agreed Silver Spoon. “If it hadn’t been for Mr. Davenport I wouldn’t have gotten that pan here.”
“That reminds me, I do own you a debt of gratitude for carrying my pan as well Mr. Davenport.” remarked Rarity sweetly.
“You are very strong monsieur Davenport.” agreed Aloe.
“And tres charming as well.” nodded Lotus, batting her eyes. The stallion, unaccustomed to the attention of three very pretty mares, could only look away with a furious blush. He found himself flanks by them as they began their trip back to town. Meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle lifted the cast iron pan into a saddle bag with her magic and went on her way. This left the two young ponies and the apple farmer in front of the farmhouse.
“So, what are you going to make first with it?” asked Silver Spoon. “I’d love to try whatever you have in mind, if that is okay?”
“Ah kinda wonder wut ya intend to do myself sugarcube.” added Applejack.
“Make?” The sudden blank look on the colt’s face made Applejack and Silver Spoon share a puzzled look. “Huh…I guess I was…so intent on getting…the money to buy one…I never even thought…about what I might make with it. There are…so many things you…can cook with cast iron.”
“I might have an idea or two. We should compare notes.” offered Silver Spoon, not one to waste a chance at spending some time with her friend.
“Ah guess I’ll leave you two to it then. And I hope ya learned yerself a lesson Peppermill. There ain’t no shame in asking fer help, no matter how proud ya are.”
“Yes Applejack.”
“And that nopony is perfect…”
“Yes Applejack…”
“And bits don’t grow on trees…and that there ain’t no substitute fer good, honest work…”
“Applejack, there are…apples to be bucked.” intoned the colt gravely.
“Er, right.” The mare sheepishly went on her way, leaving a puzzled Silver Spoon to look at Peppermill.
“She sometimes…gets upset when…I go to Big Macintosh…for help instead of her.”