It was the evening before the summer solstice celebration, and everyone on the farm was busy. Aspenzeal, Oakhoof’s mother, was trotting up and down the cellar stairs, bringing out preserves and jams to take to the celebration, while keeping an eye on the rhubarb pie that was baking in the oven. Hickorystick, Cedarwood’s father, was out back gathering the rest of the goose eggs and bailing the eating hay for the community stew that was made every solstice. Oakhoof himself was out tending to the fields, weeding the last of the carrots and turnips patches, while Cedarwood was in the house keeping an eye on the pie while also preparing the rest of the edibles; egg and potato salad, hay gravy and mashed potatoes, and other foods. So busy, they all did not notice the lone pony making its way up the dirt road to their farm.

Turning up the dusty cartway to the barn, the pony slowed his pace down to a mere walk. He cut through the grass and came to stop by a worn brass bell on the porch. Looking at the solid oak door, he grabbed the knocker and gave three hard raps.

Being that Aspenzeal was in the cellar, Cedarwood had to scramble down from the wooden footstool and trot to the door. Opening it up revealed a large pony standing directly in the sunlight, making Cedarwood squint and wonder who the large shadow was. A smell drifted in through the open door and immediately Cedarwood yelled out in delight “Pineneedle!” Throwing her hooves around the pony’s neck, she wrestled him into a big hug before saying “Come in, come in!”

Drawn by the noise, Aspenzeal, having come up from the cellar, came out of the kitchen asking “Cedar darling, who is it?” Her question was answered the minute the large earth pony stepped into the common area.

“Oh Pineneedle, its you dear! It is mighty fine to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine as always Ms.Aspen, and it is good to see you too little Cedar.” Pineneedle placed the younger pony back on the ground and ruffled the top of her mane with his hoof. “If you’d please ma’am,” drawled Pineneedle, “I would be looking for your son.”

“Why I do believe he is out in the fields finishing up, if you would like to wait for him I could get you a wonderful glass of carrot juice.”

“Thank you very much, but if its all the same to you ma’am, I’d go on out and help him finish up.”

Aspenzeal smiled saying “Of course dear,” then looking at Cedarwood, “why don’t you show Pineneedle here to Oakhoof, all of the jars are up so I can take care of the rest.”

“Yes ma.” Cedarwood turned to Pineneedle, “Come on, follow me!”

Both ponies went out the way Pineneedle had come in, then trotting around the house and herb garden in the back and making their way to the left of the Pecan grove where they could see a small outline of Oakhoof. As they made their way, Cedarwood began badgering Pineneedle with questions of how he had been, how his farm was doing, and other questions thus. You see, Pineneedle’s family was a good friend of the Wiseforest family and the two were naught but five miles separated.

Finally the two ponies came into range of Oakhoof and quickened their trot to quickly close the distance. They came to rest before the tan colored pony and watched as he pulled up one last weed with his teeth before righting himself and affixing his eyes on the two. Spitting out the weed into the cart to his rear, Oakhoof addressed the two ponies.

“Thank you my dear sister, if you would, go ahead and start picking some of the ripe carrots over yonder for tomorrow.”

“How many do I need to pull?” She replied.

“Enough for the Community stew, so I reckon twenty or so.” and with a nod, Cedarwood swung herself around and lightly bounced over to an adjoining field.

“She has gotten bigger since the last I’ve seen her, which was last Winter solstice if memory serves me right.”

Turning his head to Pineneedle, Oakhoof softly replied, “Yes she seems to grow as fast as alfalfa these days, before long she will start helping Pa with the livestock and then I reckon I will not be able to call her ‘little one’ any longer. But till then I may continue to call her so.”

Both ponies passed into silence for a minute watching Cedarwood pull up a carrot and stack it in a pile before she pulled another one. Oakhoof broke the silence through a lighthearted inquiry, “Pineneedle my friend, it has been too long. How have you been?”

“No worse for wear than last month. The crops have been sprouting like Cedarwood because of all this rain we’ve got, and the livestock don’t mind too much, in fact, since the grass been growing so much, miss Gretta has been putting out so much milk we had to give some away.”

“Yes, yes,” chuckled Oakhoof, “We got some of Gretta’s milk and I must say it has been extra creamy this year, it makes outstanding butter.”

Just then Cedarwood came bouncing back saying “Brother, I picked the carrots.”

“Thank you, now just grab that saddlebag by the cart and place them in there.” Oakhoof said thoughtfully. “After you do that go on up and take them to ma; we will follow shortly. Pineneedle, come and walk with me.”

Hooking himself up to the cart, Oakhoof stepped off down the row to the dirt path between the vegetable patches. He turned onto it and started towards the barn. Waiting for Pineneedle to come abreast of him, Oakhoof slowed down till they were side by side.

“Pineneedle, how long have we known each other?”

“Well lets see Oakhoof, I do reckon it has been since birth, but my first memory was that time me and you got caught sneaking around ol’ Gretta’s milk house after we spilled a jug o’ her milk. I thought that whipin’ would never end; coulda sworn my cutie mark was a switch after that.”

Both farmhands chuckled to each other at the recalled times since passed. Then Oakhoof started up again, “Pineneedle, you remember that one winter solstice when that band of bards came through?”

“Of course,” Pineneedle replied, “It’s only happened once in my lifetime, plus you’d go on and on about it for the longest afterwards.”

“And do you remember the poem they sang to me my friend?”

Laughing, Pineneedle asked, “Which one was that? They sung a’many of ‘em Oakhoof, and I don’t remember near any of ‘em.”

So Oakhoof recited the poem which he had heard as a colt. When he was finished Pineneedle had a perplexed face and questioned, saying “Well I be darned, that is more backwards than milking a mule, what in tarnations does it all mean.”

“Well that’s it,” replied Oakhoof amused, “I asked the bard who chanted it that same question, and all he told me was ‘To give a pony an apple is a sin when he can instead make the tree bear fruit.’ I then asked him what he meant by that and he started to laugh. I felt rather embarrassed by the ordeal, but the bard merely looked down at me and said ‘My son, if you wish to pick fruit of the tree of knowledge, then you must reach it, as it will not fall for equines.’ Saying that the bard reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a leather-bound book nearly as big as I was, and then merely said ‘I give you the seed, may you eat of its fruit.’ With that, and being distracted as I recall, the bard stood up and walked into the shadows of the building, and I don’t ever remember seeing him again, though there were many folk around.”

Here Oakhoof paused in order to unhitch himself from the cart as they had arrived at the side of the barn, where there was a pile of dried weeds and grasses. With a grunt he tipped the cart backwards, dumping the contents into that pile. After making sure all the weeds had fallen out of the cart, he brought it back level and hitched himself back up and began to walk into the barn itself.

Finding the corner where the rest of the equipment was neatly stowed, Oakhoof unhitched himself for the last time that day and placed the cart where it belonged. Then he began a round of the barn making sure everything was in proper order.

Here he continued, “But when I got home that night, I opened up the book and inside I was met with script I could not understand. Black scratches on the parchment were made in ink and as mysterious as the pony who gave it to me. Once every few pages I would see a mark that was like the ones Pa would make in a book when he would count his bits from market. And in fact, that was what they were, numbers, though at the time I thought them to be money that had been counted.”

“My ignorance of the book and its symbols continued for a few seasons, but my desire to understand it was so overwhelming that one year when I went into the village I took my book and went over to the Tavern; I know, not the best place for a young pony to be, but I was desperate to learn how to read the book. So I walked right in and up to the wooden counter where Mr. Barley stood, much to the amusement of him and the patrons, as I had this larger book strapped to my back, I said ‘I wanna know what ‘em scrath’s mean... sir.’ Well Mr.Barley looked down at me and started laughing. He was laughing so hard, he couldn’t breathe and began to cough.”

“I was feeling very flustered at being the center of such noise and attention, but that also was what brought Mr.Barley’s wife over. She looked at me and then glared at her husband, which eventually stopped his laughing. She then said, ‘Shame on you Mr.Barley, the young colt only wants to learn how to read, something, I must remind you, that needs your dire attention; how do you expect to run a tavern if you don't know how to read most things. Shame.’ He did reply, saying ‘Sugarcube, I can read what I need to, not much use in them books when all I do is sell brew and mess.’Mrs.Sugarcube then turned her attention to me, directing me over to a quieter part of the building and inquired why I wanted to read, among other things. Eventually I convinced her to teach me how to read and it was decided that once a week I would go into town, on my time mind you, and get reading lessons.”

“Well a season and half passed before I was able to start reading the book, but even then more than half of the words were still hidden to me and a great deal were also hidden to Mrs. Sugarcube. But I continued to learn and by the third season of my lessons I could read all that Mrs. Sugarcube could, though maybe not as proficiently. Then a hoof-full of years back, that caravan came through and I was lucky enough to acquire myself a dictionary, which is a book of words and their meanings; though let me tell you, I had to give a hoof and my mane to get it, but it was worth it. Regardless, I have been studying that ever since, and I have met if not exceeded Mrs. Sugarcube herself, but still there are words which the dictionary has not revealed to me.”

By now, the two ponies had reached the back porch. Cleaning their hooves, they stepped in through the door and were met with the smell of sugar and pecans, no doubt baked in a pie. They walked into the kitchen, where the smells were most unbearable for the two who just realized their stomachs were growling. In the kitchen were the three other ponies, Hickorystick, Aspenzeal, and Cedarwood.

Upon the larger ponies’ entrance, Aspenzeal looked up from her baking and said, “There is some Carrot juice as well as some nut and berry bread on the table boys; help yourselves.”

With a quick thanks, both ponies trotted to the table and sequentially began consuming the food and drink. Across from them was Hickorystick who was carving a block of wood, though from its current state the two could not figure out what its was to look like finished.

Pausing and looking up, Hickorystick said with a nod, “Pineneedle. How is the farm?”

Swallowing, Hickorystick replied, “Doing much better than last year, thanks to this rain.”

“Yes, Gretta’s milk is proof to that. I reckon you will be bringing some of it tomorrow.”

“Yes’ir.”replied Pineneedle in between draughts.

Hickorystick grunted and then refocused on his block of wood, carefully shaving off pieces and blowing them on the floor.

Oakhoof and Pineneedle finished eating and stood on all fours. Pineneedle then asked, “Say Oakhoof, show me this book of yours.”

That comment lit the kitchen up into mild excitement: Hickorystick snorted in mild contempt, Cedarwood bounced up and down saying “I wanna see it!”, and Aspenzeal replied to both “You can see it when your done here and Hickory just because you can’t read it doesn't mean its useless, you know very well that your son has tried to teach you how to, but you refuse to learn.”

Hickorystick’s reply was him mumbling something about farmers ain’t having time for foolishness.

“Yet you have time for your wood don’t you dear?” came Aspenzeal’s retort.

Once again all she got was another snort.

“You are as stubborn as a mule Hickory, whatever are we to do with you!”

At this he looked up from his carvings then at his wife said, “Just leave the ol’ Stick in the mud to peace.”

This roused a chuckle out of everyone in the room, and caused Cedarwood to drop a carrot as a result. Oakhoof picked it up and placed it back on the counter, then continued out into the main room to where his book was. Pulling it down from its place he set it on the surface and blew the dust off the cover. Pineneedle snorted from the dust, looked at the title which read A History of Arcane Thaumaturgy and then inquired “Say, what do it read on the front?”

“ A History of...Well ,” replied Oakhoof, “I don’t quite know myself, it wasn’t in the dictionary and Mrs.Sugarcube doesn’t know either, but if I had to guess I would say it was a name of some sort, and if I had to try and pronounce it, I reckon it would sound like Arekane Thawmawturgee or something like that. Its been a mystery for the longest, and I hope I figure it out before my time.”

“Well what's in it then? Is it farming secrets or some journal from a king of the olden days?”

“Pineneedle, your imagination is as active as ever; neither, they are parables.”

“Say what?” Pineneedle seemed genuinely baffled.

“A parable is a story that teaches a lesson without directly telling you what the lesson is.”

“Oh, so like them stories ma would tell me before I went to sleep when I was a youngin’.”

“Well,” said Oakhoof, “not exactly, but close enough.”

“Well go on,” Pineneedle looked rather excited, “read one of them parabells.”

“Parables, and allright I will.”

So Oakhoof began to read to Pineneedle, stopping when Pineneedle asked what a word meant, and when Oakhoof felt he needed to explain sayings and names. And there they stood for the rest of the parable, two friends, sharing something together.

Author's Note

Hello readers, this is my second chapter, and it wont be my last, I will probably revise Chapter one a bit and move some things around. Give me a review and a like, or dislike, depending on how you felt. My Little Pony Friendship is Magic is created and owned by Hasbro, so with deductive reasoning skills one can determine that therefore all characters and places created by them are theirs and not mine. Chapter III is in the Works but not done yet. Thanks for stopping by.