This above all: To thine own self be true
Author's Note
A heap of thanks go out to my pre-readers/editors: Journeyman and Exuno.
You guys rock! 
The wonderful phrase "come Tartarus or tidal surges" in the description originated here.
Although written in 2014, this story features unicorn Twilight Sparkle.
I have nothing against alicorn Princess Twilight Sparkle; this story just had a very Season 2 feel when I thought it up.
Enjoy!
This above all: To thine own self be true
“Uhh… Pinkie?” Twilight’s voice held a dose of concern.
“Huh? Wha’ ith i’ Dhwi’igh…?” Pinkie Pie muffled as she continued, undaunted, to transfer ever more material into her unsated maw. Her eyes consisted of blissfully oblivious semicircles and the corners of a large smile hid underneath the heavy, squirrel-like pouches hanging from her face.
“I don’t think you should be eating all those,” her unicorn friend voiced, but made no move to restrict her guest’s actions, merely observing her with an academic sort of bewilderment. The otherwise quiet and empty background of Golden Oaks Library provided the perfect environment for observing the pink pony’s feeding habits.
The present specimen of Pinkius Piecus, finally pulled out of her gluttonous stupor, swallowed her mouth’s contents in a single neck-expanding gulp and wiped her lips. “I’m sorry, Twilight,” she stated cheerfully. “I know you worked hard to bake these cookies and you deserve to eat them more than anypony. They’re just so good and sometimes I forget how important it is to share!” Her smile squeaked. A hoof slid the silvery tray, which miraculously still held some product, back across the table. “Here, have some!”
Twilight eyed her own creation with distaste. “No, it’s not that. I’m not really hungry.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened along with her grin, and she immediately grabbed another hoofful.
“It’s just… these cookies I made? Well… they’re burnt. Badly.” The purple pony’s magic lifted up an irregularly-shaped disc, and she tapped it lightly to demonstrate. With a soft, dull crepitation, a portion of the object’s charred shell crumbled away into flakes. She blew the crumbs – or, perhaps more accurately, ashes – off the table.
Pinkie waved her foreleg in a classic aww-don’t-worry-about-it gesture. “Aww, don’t worry about it. They’re only burnt on the outside. See?” She presented one cookie which had had a thoughtful bite removed, revealing a dough-coloured interior. “Inside, they’re completely raw, so it evens out perfectly!”
There was a sound of a unicorn pony’s face slamming into wood.
Twilight rubbed her forehead with a defeated grimace. “I’m sorry. Spike lent out my usual cookbook – Canterlot Culinary Creator’s Compendium – not knowing it’s not a library circulation book, and my backup – Baking Basics – was borrowed by somepony a month ago and is almost two weeks overdue.”
“Whoops! Has it been that long already?”
Another slam. Twilight groaned, and rubbed. “Ow. Anyway… Spike said baking cookies couldn’t possibly be that hard, so I should try it without using written instructions.” The unicorn’s gaze turned to the nominal foodstuff before her, accompanied by a deep sigh of resignation. She rolled the blackened circle between her forehooves. “Lesson learned: From now on, I’m doing all my cooking by the book.”
Pinkie interrupted her feasting to take a deep swig of nearby tea, before scooping up what remained of the charcoal-flavoured pastries into her limbs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Twilight! These are good!” She chomped another cookie with near-nirvanic bliss.
The unicorn’s brows knitted. “But eating something like that can’t be healthy.”
“Oh, I know. Mrs. Cake keeps saying I should be eating more whole grains, grasses, and vegetables instead of sugar all the time or I might get a vitamin deficiency, which would make me tired and sad, which would mean I couldn’t have as much fun or throw as many parties, which would be bad, but I just love sweets so much! They call out to me.” The earth pony’s smile suddenly vanished, and her pupils shrank to pinpricks. She waved her forehooves ominously. “‘Pinkieeeee… Eeeeaaaat usssss... We’re sooooooo delicioussss…’” Just as suddenly, her smile was back. “That’s what they say to me.”
Her host chuckled into both forehooves, watching the last of the ill-baked cookies disappear within Pinkie’s grinning gob. “If only all my friends were as easy to please as you...” Her eyes rolled and the shape of her lips inverted. “Unlike a certain pony named Applejack.”
Pinkie dumped a freshly-refilled teacup down her gullet, belched loudly, then took on a curious, pensive look. “Oh, yeah. You were going to tell me about that. Did you two have a fight or something?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Twilight’s hoof continued to play with the sole surviving cookie. “She came in this morning, looking really uncomfortable, saying she needed a really big favour from me, but she had trouble saying what it was. I tried to make her feel as comfortable as I could, and told her that as her good friend I’d do anything I could to help. It took ten minutes, but I finally got her to tell me: She wanted to borrow some money from me.”
The pink mare made no secret of her surprise, gasping loudly. “Applejack needs money?!”
The unicorn nodded. “With everything that’s been happening at her farm the last couple of years – the parasprite infestation, Spike going on a rampage, those two salesponies destroying her trees during the cider-making contest, the disaster at her family reunion–” Twilight tapped her hoof as she counted out the unlucky farmpony’s calamities, “–not to mention the beavers causing flooding a while back, a boom in the local caterpillar population, that hailstorm that accidentally got redirected over her farm, plus she said something about a real-life swarm of locusts…”
Pinkie’s mouth hung open.
Twilight scratched at her chin. “…though I don’t actually remember that happening. Come to think of it, the locusts and the first-born of her livestock all dying off were probably just hyperbole. Anyway, the point is that Sweet Apple Acres is in a financially precarious situation. Applejack wanted a short-term loan to invest in some improvements to secure the next harvest and upgrade her insurance policy to cover monster attacks.”
“Wow. I guess I never thought about how rough the apple farm has had it,” the pink pony stated, having put on her most serious expression. “And how weird things have been around here lately. I mean, what if next year something even crazier happens? Like maybe the Elements of Harmony magically misfire and swap our cutie marks and I end up with Applejack’s and have to take her place on the farm but it turns out I’m no good at it and the trees all die and the orchard turns into a barren wasteland?” Two haunted cerulean eyes peered into the distance.
A skeptical frown adorned Twilight’s face. “Ahh… I don’t think that’s very likely.”
Pinkie sighed. “You’re probably right. So, how much money did Applejack want to borrow, anyway?”
“Forty-five thousand bits.”
The earth pony gasped afresh. “Holey moley! That’s a lotta doley!”
“Yes, I know. It’s quite a large sum, but taking into account the farm’s projected future income, it’s actually a very prudent and solid financial move.”
“But that’s loco! What would make Applejack think you even had that kind of money?”
Twilight looked at her askance. “Uh, Pinkie… I do have that kind of money. A lot more, in fact.”
“What?!” The table shook and tea spilled as Pinkie’s upper half jumped onto it. “You’re rich?!”
The unicorn avoided her friend’s wide-eyed stare as her magic quickly and efficiently tidied up the mess. “I guess you could say that. For a pony my age I do have a relatively high personal net worth. My account balance at Canterlot Central Bank is at six digits. Well, eight if you include the cents, which one always should for proper accounting.”
“But… that means you’re loaded! In the money! Rolling in the money!” Pinkie’s forelimbs gesticulated madly, then stopped dead. “…Twilight, do you ever roll in your money?” Her voice flowed with childlike curiosity and her head angled. “I tried it once but it wasn’t very fun. The coins are all hard and kinda dirty and they smell bad, and you can’t even eat them, unless you get those ones that are chocolate on the inside, but that’s not really money, even though it would be pretty nice if it were. And don’t even try diving into a pile of gems. Pfftt! I almost broke my neck that time! I prefer rolling in chocolate sauce, or at least sprinkles, but if you start with chocolate sauce and then move on to the sprinkles–”
“Wait,” Twilight interjected, her frown having deepened. “How and when did you have enough money to literally roll around in?”
“Oh, it wasn’t really my money,” Pinkie Pie explained, having flipped from stunned shock to a laid-back geniality with all the effort of a page being turned. “My parents’ rock farm brings in at least a quarter-million every year. Dad believes in keeping a large reserve cash float in the treasury. He let me into the vault one time to see our assets.” Her forehead wrinkled lightly. “Then he didn’t let me into the vault every other time after that. Never knew why.”
Twilight stared, in perfect reflection of Pinkie’s earlier jaw-drop.
“I guess the one time was enough to teach me the most important lesson about finance,” the earth pony continued.
“…Which was?”
“Neck braces are expensive! At least I think that was the lesson.” She scratched her head with a vaguely confused look.
Twilight recovered, coughed, and poured out fresh tea. “I never knew your family was so… well-off.”
“Oh, rock farming is a booming business out west. Dad always said it was a… rock-solid career choice!” Pinkie loosed a high-pitched giggle, bouncing in her seat, before stopping abruptly. “I don’t think he ever understood why that was funny. But what about you, Twilight? How did you become rich? Was it with a super-smart super-schemey get-rich-quick super-scheme?”
“Absolutely not!” the unicorn snapped, clearly offended by the mere suggestion. “I saved it all,” came much more calmly, accompanied by a dignified sip of brew.
“Saved?”
Her head nodded proudly. “It started with my allowance. By the time I was accepted into Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns, I had three piggy banks full of bits saved up. I’d always get some money for birthdays and Hearth’s Warming, too, but I used most of that money for gifts for others.” Her teeth shone and her eyes misted. “Oh, I loved Hearth’s Warming! A month before, I’d stay up late working on my gift budget in my secret ledger! Then everypony got a gift valued based on how much time I spent with them, which I’d kept track of throughout the year. Shining Armor and Smarty Pants always battled for the top spot, but I may have… creatively rounded the numbers a little so that my brother would always get the best gift. Any money left over in the gift budget ledger went into the savings ledger, along with my allowance. ”
“So that’s how you made your fortune?”
Twilight laughed. “On the five bits a week my parents gave me it would’ve taken centuries to earn what I have. No, Pinkie, most of my savings come from my stipend.”
“Oh, that makes sense!” the pink pony smiled and nodded, making it clear she understood. “Just one question: What’s a stipend?”
One side of Twilight’s mouth scrunched back while her eyes wandered up and in the direction opposite. “Well, you see, I’m not just a regular student in Princess Celestia’s school. I’m her private student,” she explained, allowing a wash of pride to enter her voice. “My royal sponsorship comes with a stipend – money I’m supposed to use to live on so that I can focus on my magic studies full-time without having to hold a separate job. It’s like a salary, but distinct because it’s not, strictly speaking, paid for the work I do but to ensure a livelihood so that I can perform functions that aren’t normally wage-earning responsibilities.”
“Oooooohhhhh!”
“It’s enough money for food and lodging for both me and Spike, with a little extra for incidental expenses. But, the thing is…” She dug at the back of her neck. “I– I hardly use any of it.” The unicorn faced downward, the slightest tint of embarrassment playing across her features.
Pinkie’s head bobbed with a rhythmic squeak, beckoning elucidation.
Left with no choice, Twilight carried on. “You see, the stipend is calculated to support a resident of Canterlot, but living costs in Ponyville are a fraction of that. Not that it even matters; ever since I moved here, I haven’t had to pay anything for housing. As Ponyville’s resident librarian, I get to stay in the loft rent-free, and since Golden Oaks is technically classed as a public building, I don’t pay any property taxes or utilities.” The tint slowly worked into a visible blush. “I don’t pay for any of my study supplies, either. Any books I need, parchment, paper, quills, ink, research materials, laboratory equipment…” Her hoof knocked on wood with each item listed. “All that can all be expensed directly to the royal treasury without me needing to touch my own funds.
“Even things like train tickets to and from Canterlot qualify. Anything I need that is directly related to my studies or any request or order from Princess Celestia, I expense. The Princess herself insisted on it. Just about the only thing I do need to pay for is food, and with how often you or Applejack come by with homemade treats, I barely have to do that, either. In the end, over ninety percent of my income goes straight into savings,” she finished at last, two spots of bright pink highlighting her cheeks.
“Twilight…” the awed earth pony began. “That… is… wonderful!” she exuded, appearing beside the unicorn and pulling her into a literally breathtaking – and very possibly rib-cracking – hug. “That means Applejack’s farm is saved!”
Something in Twilight’s spine snapped sinisterly. The bug-eyed mare dropped onto the floor in a heap upon being released.
The pink one sounded a noisemaker while hopping in place amidst a shower of inexplicable confetti.
“Ughh, Pinkie…”
“Oh, and that means apples, apple pies, apple fritters, and applesauce for years to come…!”
“Pinkie.”
“And apple cider! Ah! I have to tell Rainbow Dash the good news! But wait, she’d need to know the bad news first...”
“Pinkie.”
“You know what this calls for?!”
“Pinkie!”
“A party!”
“Pinkie!”
The earth pony stopped and fluttered her eyelids. “Yes, Twilight?”
“It didn’t work out that way. Applejack and I got into an argument, remember? Her farm’s still in trouble, and she still needs money.”
Pinkie tossed her hat and deflated party horn aside and wriggled out of her hula skirt, her brows knitting harshly. “But… I don’t get it. Applejack came to you asking to borrow forty-five thousand bits. And since you have all of that plus more saved up, you loaned it to her. So what’s the problem? Did it turn out not to be enough?”
Having restored herself to her previous seat at the table and painfully snapping her vertebrae back into alignment, Twilight snorted. “I most certainly did not lend Applejack any money.”
“WHAT?!” Instead of a hug, the unicorn now found herself trapped in a face-distorting death-grip of Pinkie’s hooves against her cheeks. “Why not?! Why do you hate Applejack!?”
The first attempt at an answer failed to produce anything intelligible. Only when a bright flash of magic deposited the pink personal-space-invader a safe distance away was Twilight able to massage her muzzle into normal operation and restore her speech. “Applejack’s my friend. A very good friend. And it’s never a good idea to lend money to your friends. Money issues are the number one cause of relationship troubles, both in romantic and platonic contexts. Every book I’ve read on the subject says so.” Her hoof indicated shelves of knowledge surrounding them.
She straightened her posture, and lifted her chin. “Neither borrower nor lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend,” she recited with an up-pointing hoof, eyes shut and mouth serious. “My friendship with Applejack is simply too important to me. I can’t allow any feelings of resentment to develop between us because of a loan.”
Pinkie sat in a stunned post-teleportation heap. Her head joggled and pitched to one side. “Applejack’s your friend, so… you refused to help her?!”
“I never said I refused to help,” Twilight corrected with a sharply-edged tone, returning a portion of her attention to her teacup and forsaken blackened baked bad, “I just refused to extend her a loan. I came up with a far better solution: I offered to give Applejack the money; as a gift, with no expectation of repayment. That way, Sweet Apple Acres would get the funds it needs, and there wouldn’t be any financial obligations between me and Applejack. It’s the perfect solution for everypony.”
The Earth pony regarded her with reverence. “Wow, Twilight! And I thought generosity was Rarity’s thing!”
The wary unicorn’s harsh pointing and no-nonsense scowl was clear enough for even Pinkie to comprehend, and the approaching mare sheepishly backed off and retook her original seat under a heavy glare.
“I’d do the same for any of my friends,” the purple pony pronounced as she took a fresh sip of tea, though the subtle wrinkle in her nose suggested that at that particular moment it wasn’t exceedingly tasty.
“Really? You’d give away a fortune just like that?! Even to Fluttershy? Or Rainbow Dash? Or Rarity? Or Pinkie P–”
Twilight stopped the potentially endless flow of questions by stoppering its source with her hoof. It squeaked when she did so. “Yes, I would, because you’re all my friends, and helping one another is part of being a good friend. Although it wouldn’t be just like that. And not all the time. I don’t want anypony to become financially dependent on me in the long term; that wouldn’t be doing my friends any favours. But in an exceptional circumstance, like, say, a theft, a market crash, or even a loan gone bad, I’d be perfectly willing to make a one-time gift to help stave off serious financial trouble. Applejack’s situation certainly qualifies. I explained all of this to her earlier today. And do you know what happened next?”
“Nuh-uh.” Pinkie’s head swiveled side-to-side.
“She got angry at me!” The purple pony threw her hooves in the air. “Can you believe it?! She said she wasn’t some… ‘charity case’… whatever that means! She was acting like I’d offended her.” The expression on Twilight’s face was one ponies typically reserved for watching overfed pigs attempting to mate while covered in their own excrement. “I was trying to keep our friendship strong, and she was arguing that she wanted to keep it ‘strictly business’ and she wasn’t looking for ‘hoof-outs’.”
At this point, Twilight lifted her muzzle skyward and released something that was a mixture of a groan, a sigh, and a shout.
“I tried to tell her everything I’d read, and how lending money to friends never ends well, but she wouldn’t listen! Even after I explained in detail that it wasn’t a problem for me to give her the money and it was only logical, she wouldn’t budge. She actually said, right to my face, that she’s rather lose Sweet Apple Acres than be reduced to begging! Which makes no sense at all because she didn’t solicit my gift; I offered it to her, which is by definition not begging!”
The outburst having purged a good portion of her energy, Twilight splayed her upper self onto the tabletop. “I swear,” she grumbled, “sometimes that pony’s stubborn as a mule.”
“Eee-hwaaww!” came a loud bray from outside an open window.
Twilight straightened and addressed the passing equine. “Uh, no offense.”
“None taken,” the friendly half-breed drawled before going on his way.
Twilight slammed the window shut with a loud exhale as she moved into the conclusion of her tirade. “I really thought that after the whole applebuck season fiasco, and the cider-pressing fiasco, Applejack had learned that she could accept help from her friends without shame, but I guess the lesson just didn’t go far enough.” She sighed again, more curtly. “I’m really at the end of my rope with her. I tried everything I could to convince her – to educate her – but I just can’t seem to get through that thick Stetson hat of hers.”
“Did you try taking it away from her?”
The unicorn chuckled bittersweetly. “That’s a nice idea, Pinkie, but I don’t think it’s her hat that’s really the problem...”
“Hmm...” Pinkie’s face contorted in a truly impressive display of cogitation. One of her ears flicked, as if tickled by the ideas bouncing in her head. “There’s just one thing I still don’t get,” she announced at length.
“And what’s that?”
“Why didn’t you just give Applejack the money, pretend it was a loan to make her feel good about it, and write it off as a gift? Wouldn’t that make it okay?”
“No, Pinkie, it wouldn’t. You can’t just go calling something by a different name to make it acceptable. The money’s either a loan or a gift, and saying that it’s one thing when it’s another is incorrect. Not to mention it goes against my deepest beliefs about friendship, fair dealing, common decency, and even language. It’s an offense against the dictionary! Not that I’d expect somepony like Applejack to understand all that...” Twilight muttered with a sour expression. “The point is: Being a good friend should not involve being deceitful or sacrificing my principles.”
Pinkie smiled a small smile. “I understand. You’re the Princess’ prized, promising protégé and pupil. Your personal principles and individual integrity are paramount.”
“Yes! Thank you, Pinkie, for paying attention to evething I’ve been saying!” Twilight grinned – fully and genuinely, for the first time that afternoon. “I think... you might actually be up for the assignment.” She clopped her hooves together lightly as her eyes narrowed in determination.
“Assignment?”
“That’s right, Pinkie. As hard as it is for me to say, I failed in helping Applejack. I want to be a good friend to her, but this situation exceeds my current friendship skill level. If I can’t convince her to accept my help myself, I’m obligated to try any other method I can. Which is why I’ve called you here.”
At these words, the unicorn stood up, her posture firm and authoritative to the point she could give her own brother a run for his command, while her companion played along without missing a beat, sproinging into at-attention in the space of a single blink. Twilight began pacing purposefully.
“I believe that a different approach may hold the key. Or, to be more precise: a different pony. Applejack has failed to respond to logic and reasoned argument backed by thorough research. I tried using my intelligence and knowledge to convince her. Paradoxically, a pony who isn’t quite as–” Twilight halted, her eyes widening for a split-second. “–uh, structured... as I am might succeed in getting through to Applejack.” She spun on her hooves, facing the pink Earth pony muzzle-to-muzzle, her brows at a grimly severe angle.
“Pinkie Pie, would you please go and talk some sense into Applejack?” There was a pause. Twilight blinked, as if waking from a dream. “Huh. That’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear myself say.”
“Yes, sir, ma’am, sir!” Pinkie saluted. “I just have one last question.”
“Yes...?”
She pointed to the dull black circle still on the table. “Are you gonna eat that?”
Applejack cantered through the acres of her Acres. Four empty, extra-large apple baskets atop her head bobbed in rhythm with her steps. Her current goal was a rather large and leafy Golden Delicious tree at the summit of an otherwise-nondescript hill, its ripe and hanging prizes made even more golden as they reflected and shone in the day’s late-afternoon sun. Beneath its boughs she deposited the baskets with a simple yet eminently effective toss of her head, only pausing for a second to hoof-adjust the position of one by a few inches, bringing it into four-cornered alignment with the others. From within, her hoof retrieved her trusty Stetson hat, and returned it to its rightful place.
After wiping the sweat from her brow and giving a rapid, satisfied nod, she turned around, backed up to the tree, and shifted her weight forward. In motions so practiced and ingrained that she could have performed them in her sleep, her hindhooves left the ground, only to pummel back with all the force the pony’s well-worked muscles could give.
The kick landed solidly, reverberating up the trunk and convincing the laden branches to release their fruit.
They also released something else.
“Whaaaaaaah!” A raspy cry tore the air, as a pony-sized mass of cyan-blue trimmed in accents of rainbow fell to meet the grass, displacing one of the baskets and making a mess of the neat pile of apples that were supposed to have landed there.
Applejack tipped her Stetson upward as she took in the sight of a rainfall of Golden Delicious pattering off the container atop the interloper’s head, and then rolling in all directions. She sighed impatiently. “Dangit, Rainbow, I told ya: Ya keep nappin’ in my trees an’ yer just askin’ fer trouble. I ain’t gonna be responsible fer ya gettin’ hurt.”
“Uhhhh…” the cyan pony groaned as she struggled to both remove her basket-hat, and climb to her unsteady hooves. She only succeeded at the first task, and even that with some difficulty.
Applejack exhaled again. “Here, lemme help ya.” The proffered limb was gratefully accepted, and the recovering mare spat a loose feather from her mouth as balance found her.
“Feelin’ okay, there, Rainbow Dash?”
As if the fall had never happened, the pony sproinged up into a bouncy stance, a wide grin splitting her face. “Wow-ee, that was lots of fun!” she chirped in a register much higher than Ponyville’s resident weather manager was normally capable of. “I’m feeling super-duper fine, Applejack! The world’s still spinning a little bit, and it’s like I’ve got an ice-cream headache even though I haven’t eaten any ice cream, but I’m sure that’s just temporary!”
The orange pony recoiled at the clearly mismatched voice and pair of sparkling cerulean eyes looking her way. “What the–?! P–Pinkie Pie?!”
“Eeyup!” the other mare giggled, then unzipped and discarded her costume.
“What in tarnation?!” Applejack questioned, then shut her eyes and kneaded a hoof against her forehead in a self-calming gasture. “Pinkie, why’re ya dressed up like Rainbow Dash, an’ what’re ya doin’ up in my tree?”
“Oh, I’m just trying to be considerate of my hard-working friend.”
Applejack stared back at her with half-lidded eyes. “‘Considerate’?”
“Uh-huh!” Pinkie’s head shook with a vigorous up-and-down. “Ponies keep telling me that the way I appear is really startling sometimes, and I figured if I just dropped out of your tree when you bucked it, you’d be pretty startled, and after a busy day in the fields, you might not appreciate it. But then I thought: Rainbow Dash often naps in your trees, so if I dressed up like her and then fell out of your tree, you’d think I was her, and you wouldn’t be so startled. And it worked!” Pinkie’s smile squeaked with pride.
The orange mare tilted her head. “Uhhh, thanks, I guess?”
“You’re welcome!”
Her eyes upturned. “And ya just happen ta own a realistic costume of Rainbow Dash?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing weird. I have one of you, too!”
Applejack’s lower left lid twitched. She shook her head rapidly. “So, movin’ right along, what brings ya here?” She righted the overturned basket and began retrieving scattered apples one by one.
Pinkie immediately joined in to help. “Twilight told me you’re having money issues.”
“Consarnit!” Applejack grabbed her Stetson and hurled it at the ground in a fit of fury. An innocent apple got it worse; a kick splattered it into juicy mist against the tree trunk. “That was s’pposed ta be a private conversation! Ya know, a secret! I can’t believe she’s blabbin’ about it!” Steam flew from her nostrils and her cheeks flushed.
“Did you make her Pinkie Swear not to tell?” the other earth pony asked.
“Well… no.” The response came through grinding teeth. “But it was obvious! She should know money talk ain’t ever supposed ta leave the room.”
Pinkie clucked her tongue. “Aww, you have to be patient and understanding with Twilight,” she said in a mollifying tone. “She’s a good friend, but sometimes she really misses the obvious hints for how to behave around other ponies. It can make her seem insensitive.” A few more apples arced into the basket. “So how come your family’s in the poorhouse?”
“Pinkie!”
“What?”
“We ain’t in the poorhouse!” Applejack pressed her nose to the pink pony’s, stormclouds roiling in her eyes. “We don’t even need the money that bad!” She pulled away and re-equipped her signature headwear.
“But Twilight said–”
“It ain’t good, but it ain’t the end of Equestria, either. Big Mac an’ I worked the numbers. Worst case: We might hafta sell off a part o’ the Acres. A part. An’ even then, if we just pull together an’ keep the rest goin’ strong, we’re gonna be able to buy it back in a couple o’ years. I just asked Twilight fer the loan to save us the trouble.” The mare snorted out a huff and busied herself with picking up wayward fruit once more, though her eyes seemed to dampen slightly.
“I don’t get it,” Pinkie voiced, laying her head atop her forehooves on the rim of the basket, even as her tail continued flicking fruit. “If you need to borrow a ton of money, why didn’t you just go to the bank? That’s what they’re for, silly!”
An angry blush crept onto Applejack’s face. “I did.” She swallowed something bitter. “They didn’t wanna give us another loan. Went through our files an’ said it was too ‘high-risk’.” She slowly spun around, searching, but, with Pinkie’s assistance, all the escaped fruit had been successfully corralled.
“Hmm.” Pinkie Pie rubbed her chin. “Did they say anything about your combined loan-to-value ratio exceeding the recently-released guidelines for Class B agricultural concession land liens as set out by the Equestrian Central Banking Authority, memorandum 27B-6?”
The other pony blinked. “Uhhh… yeah. Sounds familiar.”
“Well, that explains it! If you’d asked for the loan six months ago, they probably would’ve given it to you, no problem!”
Applejack grunted as she hefted one of the filled containers onto her back. “If ya say so. Don’t help me much now, does it?”
“Nope!” Pinkie replied cheerfully, picking up another basket, oblivious to the eye-roll she received.
The two ponies carried their respective loads through a short path to a small, hillside-inset apple cellar, keeping up a healthy trot all the while. The farmpony certainly didn’t seem to have time to waste, and her boundlessly-energetic friend’s help received a silent but grateful assenting glance, though there still seemed to be an angry thunderhead just inches above Applejack, following her every move.
Pinkie leaped onto her back to dispel it with a pink flurry of hooves, balancing on the basket rim.
“Oof! Hey!”
“There, all better!” She jumped off.
No apples had been spilled in unlikely manoeuvre, which Applejack verified with a single surprised eyebrow. Then she went back to scowling. “I’ll be better when I can find somepony ta lend me forty-five big ones.” She deposited the produce inside the cellar with a tired groan that was likely more the result of her current emotional state than any physical exhaustion, then took off at a canter back towards the tree, Pinkie still blithely hopping alongside.
“Then why didn’t you just take Twilight’s gift?” the bouncy mare pressed.
“Because I ain’t a charity case! It’s a matter of honour! The Apples never needed hoof-outs to survive, and as Celestia is my witness, it’s not gonna happen while I’m runnin’ the farm!”
Pinkie nodded her head reassuringly. “I understand: For you, it’s about being self-sufficient, having pride in your own abilities, and not forcing your problems on other ponies – like a personal moral code that’s practically a part of your identity! Compromising your principles would be giving up an important part of yourself. Like baking a cake that nopony’s allowed to eat, or even use in a food fight.”
For the first time, a small smile blossomed on Applejack’s muzzle. “Heh. Well, I’ll be. Pinkie, you actually understand.” They paused underneath the tree to load up the remaining apples, the orange pony looking ever more thankful for the assistance, then started back to the cellar. “I just wish Twilight could see what you see. I tried explainin’ it ta her, but it’s like somepony’s poured applesauce in her ears! She just kept goin’ on how a simple loan between honest friends would make us turn on each other like rabid timberwolves. I wanted to keep this money business all… business-like, y’know? Fair ’n square deal all-round; sign a contract an’ everythin’; no hard feelin’s. She made it sound like I was wantin’ ta sell my soul to Nightmare Moon!” A heated, dismissive huff emitted from her muzzle. “I swear, sometimes that pony’s stubborn as a mule.”
“Eee-hwaaww!”
“Uh, no offense.”
“None taken.”
Seemingly determined to make up the precious few seconds she had expended apologising to the random hybrid, the farmpony now went into a frustrated gallop, only skidding to a stop once the ground under her hooves threatened to run out at the opening of the underground storeroom.
Pinkie – of course – had kept perfect pace with via carefree skip. “Why didn’t you just take the money, pretend it was a gift to make Twilight feel good about it, and give it back later? Wouldn’t that make it okay?”
“No, Pinkie, it wouldn’t. Ya can call a pig a duck but it don’t make a lick o’ difference to the pig, an’ it makes you a mighty sorry liar. The money’s either a loan or a gift, an’ sayin’ it’s one then tryin’ ta make it the other is lyin’. Not sure whether I’d be lyin’ to her or to myself at the end o’ the day, but either way I’d be pullin’ a fast one. It wouldn’t be a square deal. Not that I’d expect somepony like Twilight to understand that...” Applejack muttered with a sour expression. “Point is: There ain’t nothin’ honourable about it. I’m not doin’ that.”
As the last of the apples were secured inside, the pink and orange ponies exited, closing the cellar doors behind them. Applejack brought the brim of her Stetson low to shield her eyes from the shallowing sun. Pinkie froze, appearing strangely wistful for a few moments, head atilt. When she spoke again, her usual flippant cheer had been replaced with a thoughtful, compassionate, and rather uncharacteristic gravitas.
“Applejack, there’s no shame in accepting help from your friends in a time of need.” She gently rubbed her agitated companion’s withers. “Asking for help doesn’t mean you lose a part of yourself, because your friends are a part of you. Remember the time you worked extra-double-mega-hard all by yourself and made yourself all sick and woozy, until we all pitched in to help with your applebucking, and then you were better – more like Applejack than when you were all alone by yourself? And I’ve been helping you to carry your apples today without you even asking and you didn’t mind that.”
The orange mare drew a long breath, a slight shudder transiting her damp shoulders. “I... I know, Pinkie. And the truth is: I’m mighty grateful fer your help today. I know I have friends I can count on and y’all... well, you’re like my family.” Her irises glistened as she looked to her ally. “I know there’s no shame in askin’ fer help when ya need it, but there’re still some lines I’m just not willin’ ta cross, no matter the stakes. A day workin’ the field is one thing. Heck, givin’ me a loan and trustin’ me when even the banks won’t touch me – I’ll remember that till my dyin’ day. But takin’ money from somepony – thousands o’ bits just like that? I just... I can’t do that. It’s too far.”
A moment of serenity elapsed as two ponies stood side-by-side facing the dying sun, the passage marked by the languid sway of leaves in a lightly-scented evening breeze rolling over the fields that were Applejack’s life; her home; her pride.
The farmpony wiped something away from the corner of her eyes, then inhaled the gentle wind, energising her features. “You’re a good friend, Pinkie. An’ if it’s not too much to ask, could ya help me out with a coupla more trees ’fore it gets dark? I’m kinda behind schedule on account our cart’s broken, so I’m havin’ ta lug all these apples on my own hooves. I’d be much obliged fer another set o’ legs to get the job done quicker.”
Serious Pinkie’s appearance had been an ephemeral event, and Playful Pinkie, back in full force, jumped at the chance – literally; momentarily gaining about a yard or three in altitude. “I’d love to help! Applebucking is my twenty-eighth most favourite thing to do on Sweet Apple Acres on a summer evening, which is pretty high because there are three hundred eleven things on my list of favourite things to do on Sweet Apple Acres on a summer evening! Oh, but before we start, do you mind if we do my mostest favouritest thing of all to do on Sweet Apple Acres on a summer evening?”
Though her eyes rolled once more, Applejack smiled. “Sure thing, Pinkie. Long as it’s quick. Whaddaya have in mind?”
The beam on Pinkie Pie’s face outshone all else as she practically vibrated in anticipation. “I’m going to save your farm!”
“Uh... come again?”
“I’m going to save your farm!” Pinkie echoed perfectly, as if playing back a recording.
One of the orange pony’s eyelids slid lower in suspicion. “Alright... ya got my attention. What’s yer plan?”
“If you can’t get the money you need from Twilight, you can just get it from me!”
Applejack’s mouth opened slightly, and one of her ears fell to point awkwardly to the side as she regarded her friend; her face a tilted picture of surprise and confusion. “Now wait jus’ one cotton-pickin’ minute. Pinkie, are ya sayin’ you actually have forty-five thousands bits jus’ lyin’ around? ’Cause I never figured ya to be one ta sit on that kinda dough.”
Pinkie gigglesnorted. “Applejack, you can’t keep thousands of bits worth of dough just sitting around. Or to sit on. It’d just go stale if you didn’t bake it into something yummy.”
“Right... What I meant was: Where are ya gonna get all this cash from?”
At this, the pink pony pricked up her ears and whipped her head in one direction, then another, zipping around, over, and even under Applejack, as if searching for something, going so far as to briefly rip up a carpet of grassy soil to check beneath it. Ultimately satisfied at having found nothing at all, she lifted the farmpony’s ear conspiratorially and hissed, “I know poniessss...”
Applejack appeared skeptical as she cleaned out her ear canal. “Ponies? Ya mean, like, rich ponies? Since when?”
“Since I was born, silly! Didn’t I ever tell you about my parents and the Pie Rock Farm fortune?”
“Uh... that’d be a no.”
“Well, that’s because you never asked! The point is, for a loan to the most dependable, reliable, responsible pony I know, I can get the money! My dad always said to be on the lookout for a good investment, and Granny Pie said you should always help out a pony in need, so this idea is a double-good, like rolling around in chocolate sauce and sprinkles!”
Applejack stared widely at Pinkie, the faint sparks of hope in her eyes daring to burn brighter. “So, we can get this done? A loan from you to me; forty-five thousand bits; bona fide business deal all fair an’ square?”
“Sure thing. I even have the loan agreement all written out.” The mare tossed her head low to the ground, whereupon her pink curls birthed a scroll of parchment, which she then unrolled with a tiny kick.
Applejack lifted her leg in retreat, as if the unfurling document were some possibly dangerous creature snaking its way over the grass.
“The interest rate is one point two five percent annual, compounded monthly,” Pinkie explained from beneath a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. “You won’t get a rate that low from any bank in Equestria! I penned in a five-year term, but if you look at paragraph seventeen, you’ll see that you can make unlimited payments early with no penalty. That means you can pay back the loan as soon as you have the money, and save a ton on interest. This section here describes grace periods and down here you have the late-payment penalties which follow the standard ERA formula, so no surprises there. Oh, and it’s an unsecured loan, so our deal is basically held together by my trust in your honour and family name! Isn’t that great?!”
A dumbfounded Applejack only nodded faintly as she sat and grasped the top of the scroll. Methodically, her eyes perused the document from the first line to the last. Although the text was hardly small, the entire parchment measured some two-and-a-half pony lengths in size, and was filled with clauses detailing seemingly every possible eventuality. Pinkie Pie stood beside her, still radiating excitement but keeping utterly silent as the farmpony smartly exercised her due diligence with all the sobriety the circumstance demanded. By the time she finished, the sun had fully set and the Acres were bathed in true twilight.
“Pinkie...” Applejack spoke at last, breaking out into a grin, “This here’s exactly what I need; what the farm needs! An’ all this time I’d been workin’ up the nerve to go see Rarity – you can imagine I wasn’t lookin’ forward to that conversation; just talkin’ to Twilight was hard enough – but this is jus’ perfect. Oh, I could just kiss ya right now!”
“Aww!” Pinkie blushed, then held out her cheek.
The other mare gave her a look. “I didn’t mean... Heh, it’s just a figure o’ speech...” Her hoof scratched behind her head. “Ah, what the hay!” Without further ado, she threw the still-waiting pony into a hug, planting a quick peck on her cheek along the way.
They held the embrace for a few moments, until all of Pinkie’s unruly giggling had died down.
“Yer a good friend,” Applejack said as the pair finally released. “I owe ya one.”
“Actually, you owe me one point two five.”
They laughed.
Glancing at the fading light of the sky, the orange pony collected herself and began rolling up the precious farmsaving document. “Shoot, I didn’t realise how late it was. Boy, I can’t wait ta see Big Mac’s face when I tell him I got everythin’ taken care of.”
“But you didn’t,” Pinkie pointed out. “You still need to sign it to make it official. Unless you need some more time to think. It’s a big decision; no pressure.”
“Are ya kiddin’? I know a good deal when I see one and I ain’t about ta look this gift horse in the mouth. Ya got a quill?” No sooner had Applejack asked than a pre-inked feather appeared in front of her, courtesy of Pinkie.
“Just initial beside the interest rate and the term, then sign and date on the dotted line.”
And with a few quick strokes, the deal was sealed, Pinkie putting her own name after Applejack’s with a playful flourish, before tucking the document back into the unfathomable depths of her mane for safekeeping. In its place, she produced a much smaller, rectangular piece of paper.
“Here you go; a check for forty-five thousand bits.”
Applejack held the instrument for a moment – and then a moment longer, her eyes hungrily devouring it with all the eager possessiveness of a young dragon faced with a hoard of rubies. She caressed its edge, as if to make sure it was real, then carefully folded and tucked it away beneath her trusty Stetson.
She let out a long breath and smiled. “Alright, Pinkie, let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?”
The orange pony regarded the pink one with a cagey eye. “Uh… ya don’t have any plans on account o’ this here deal? Like maybe a get-together ta celebrate?” Her eyes flitted away and back. “A shindig? A bash? A hootenanny?” She bit her lip and shied her head. “…A party?”
“Oh, yeah, sure!” Pinkie agreed. “A ‘we-saved-Sweet-Apple-Acres party’! I’ll put it together. Is Tuesday good for you?”
Applejack’s cagey eye turned even cagier. “Really? Tuesday? As in, not today?”
“Oh, I thought you’d want to tell your family first and rest after a hard day. But if you want, I can throw something together right now. I think my party cannon–”
“Tuesday’s perfect!” the farmpony blurted with a powerful slap and squeeze of Pinkie’s shoulders. “I’ll see ya then.”
“Wait, aren’t we supposed to buck a few more apple trees?” Pinkie recalled as she was shoved in the general direction of Ponyville.
“Pinkie, I’ve been workin’ my tail off since ’fore sun-up. I’m tired an’ sore an’ ’bout three bucks away from settin’ off another rabbit stampede. I don’t say this often, but I could really use a break. An’ thanks to you, I can actually afford one. Yer a lifesaver, but I need ta go home, give everypony the good news, and sleep.”
“Okie-dokie-lokie!” Pinkie called as she skipped merrily away. At the last moment, she paused. “Oh, I almost forgot: The money’s not in my account just yet, so don’t cash that check until Monday. You can wait that long, right?”
Applejack looked back, relief and gratitude still shining beneath her exhausted features. “Not a problem Pinkie. I’ll see ya. An’ if ya happen to see Twilight before I do, tell her I’m sorry about today and… I hope there’s no bad blood between us.”
The happy answer leaped over the crest of the hill, “Will do!”
The front door to Golden Oaks Library sounded with a rapid series of impacts from some durable – and suspiciously hollow-sounding – object. Twilight opened the entryway to see Pinkie Pie nervously tip-hoofing in place, biting her lip and rubbing her forehead.
“Hey, Twilight,” the earth pony greeted quickly, her pleading, desperate eyes immediately fixing on the unicorn as if she were salvation itself. “I have a really big problem that’s come up, and if I don’t fix it soon, I’m going to be in really, really deep trouble and things are going to go really, really, really wrong and I desperately need your help as a close friend!” she spilled with a single needy breath, than pouted pathetically.
“Well, of course, Pinkie,” Twilight replied with a gentle smile. “I’m always willing to help a friend in trouble. What do you need me to do? What’s happened? Should I call the others?”
The visitor shook her head. “I just need one thing. You see, I kinda wrote this really big check that I don’t have the money in my bank account to cover, and if I don’t have that money in the account by Monday morning, there’s going to be serious financial trouble, and you’re the only pony I know who has enough to cover it and save me from being a fraud and a criminal and a vile, terrible pony!” Pinkie suddenly flashed a smile. “So, anyway, can I have forty-five thousand bits?”
