Apple of my Eye

by OptimisticPessimist

Rating: everyone
Tags: Granny Smith, Main 6, Original Character, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life
Length: 9235

New stallion misses his stop on the train, and with nowhere else to go, is forced into the small town of Ponyville.

New pony, Green Oak, finds himself in Ponyville after a mishap with the train. He is forced to find work in the only place his cutie mark with allow: an orchard. He is forced to look after Apple Bloom and teach her the ropes while simultaneously learning them himself from Applejack. He, normally the outside observer to any social interactions, is privy to Applejack's workaholocism, and finds it within himself to help. Applejack, under Green's advice, becomes more outgoing with the other girls. Meanwhile, Pinkie is adamant about throwing Green a party.

"[T]hese kind of stories aren't up my alley," Attempted Proofreader 1
"Hmmm...This is a rather unusual sounding story and it sounds like I may have some issues with it," Attempted Proofreader 2
"[C]ontact me in a week or so if you haven't found anyone else to work with you," Attempted Proofreader 3
Just the kind of expertise you can expect when reading this glorious story!

Disclaimer: I have no proofreaders. This story is abhorrent, and I apologize. Get ready for OC insertions, Cuh-razy hi-jinks, and dry heaving as you struggle through my miraculous mess. This has become cathartic for me, so you be the judge!

Published 2014-03-11 23:30:12 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-24 06:17:10 UTC

Introduction

The train, the tracks, the engine. All of them are bringing me farther from my past, closer to my future. I don’t know one and want to forget the other—great start! The steel behemoth comes to a screeching halt at the station, the conductor unsympathetically ringing his bell and ushering all of the ponies off. It’s as if he doesn’t mind it’s two in the morning, nor the fact that I’m the only other pony on here.

He stares at me the entire time as I trot down the hallway and off of the train. Before I can even reach the bottom step, the doors slam shut behind me, and the engine roars to life. Thankfully I grabbed my bag. Considering how small it is, I am lucky I remembered it at all.

I watch the train chug off into the distance, catching myself wondering how much money the train just lost hauling one passenger halfway across Equestria. Not my place to judge; so long as I had the bits to cover the fair, the conductor didn’t seem to mind giving me a personal ride. I look at my ticket, reading over the name: “Canterlot.”

Wait. I turn around to find the sign proudly presenting the town’s name. Ponyville. Oh Tartarus! Canterlot was the last stop, and I slept through it!

No, no, this is some kind of cruel joke. Princess Luna has just poked a little fun at my dreams, certainly! I’m still asleep in the train, being watched uncomfortably closely by the director through the little faded window on the door. The newfound pain flaring in my cheek begs to differ, however, and I slowly lower my hoof.

No doubt about it, I’m stuck here. The three bits in my bag taunt me, circling above my head and only serving to reinforce my dreaded reality. I stop, holding the three measly coin in my hoof, wondering what in the wide wide world of Equestria would be my next step. My stomach offers an idea, emitting a growl that rivals the train screeching along its tracks.

The bits jingle softly in my hoof. What place would even be open this late? Early? Semantics. A cold wind ripples through the already chilled air. Before me sits, apparently, Ponyville. If I remember correctly, this is the current housing of Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony.

Buck.

The town is dark before me. Seems everypony is asleep. I certainly don’t blame them, I could use some sleep myself, but I don’t get these luxuries. At least not yet; I have to find myself a suitable… bench to rest for the night.

Walking through the town is as eerie as small rural life can get. No lights shine through any windows, no ponies are walking the dirt streets, and no signs of life anywhere, really. Reminds me of ho—no! I refuse to go there. New town, new start! My stomach erupts into another bout of the empty symphony, second movement. Same problems.

I let out an audible sigh and look around. Apparently I had been walking, and now found myself in what looks to be a cafe. Or something like it, anyway. There’s chairs surrounding tables, and even a bench! Sweet! I trot over, tripping over a rock in my haste, and collide hard with the metal framework of the bench. And then… black!

Finding Employment

“Hey, wake up.”

Three dulled pokes in my side rouse me from my “sleep,” and I crack my eyes open to immediately shut them again. Celestia hates me, surely. Why else would she make the sunrise burn so badly?

“Hey, come on!”

I grumble, shooing away onslaught of jabs with my hoof. They only intensify.

“Come on, I’ve got better things to do than usher the homeless out of my benches.”

That brings me back. I roll over, forgetting how short a bench really was, and fall on my back. Air rushes from my lungs, and I try desperately to bring it back, but to no avail. I look up breathlessly at the owner of the store, a cream colored stallion, lanky, oddly enough since he owns a cafe. His dark blue hair—died, obviously died—was greased back, and his tail has its own coat of grease. He’s wearing a white suit-top collar, though his bowtie is still undone and hangs loosely around his neck. The small blue excuse for a mustache frames his scowl perfectly, and his cold amber eyes just look me over as they await a response.

I raise my hoof, sucking in air through my dry throat in an effort to buy some time. He seems unimpressed. “I heard this cafe,” I finally manage to muster out, “was very good, so I was anxious to buy some food.”

He looks me over carefully. His eyes soften, and the small almost mustache looks uncomfortable framing a prideful smile.

“You certainly heard right,” he says proudly. “As a matter of fact, I’m just opening, so you’ll have the freshest food of the day! Come, come, sit down!”

Just as I got to my hooves, he grabs my leg, ushering me to a nearby table. I stare at the fungi design, regretting my choice of words. He sets a golden-colored vase in the center, three blue flowers inside it, and silverware in front me complete with napkin and menu. He smiles and trots off, presumably to fire up the grill, or whatever he has back there.

I grab the menu and open it, nearly falling from my seat, a stack of hay (is this what he does with the leftovers: furniture?), as I glance over the prices. Five bits for a sandwich!? Ridiculous.

“Okay, sir, how may I help you, today?”

I look at the menu lying on the table and back at the waiter. His bow tie is now tied, a devilish red that contrasts nearly everything else about his ensemble, and bright white cuffs now adorn each of his hooves. He has a pen in his mouth resting on a pad of paper, looking at me expectantly. I sigh and withdraw the three bits I had in my bag.

“What can I get with this?”

He just looks at me as if I told a joke he refuses to acknowledge. He cocks an eyebrow, but it slowly lowers when he realizes I’m not joking.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” he tries, readying the pen once more.

My dejected look to the menu answers his question for me.

“Get out,” he says simply. “My cafe is simply too refined for such common trash as yourself.”

“Excuse me?” I rise from my seat, hooves resting on the table.

“If you cannot afford my generous prices, then you and I have nothing to discuss.”

“Generous!? You are severely delusional if you—”

He merely grunts in my direction and turns to his store. “If you do not leave right now, I’ll be forced take more severe action.”

I open my mouth to say something else, but the door slams shut and I’m forced back to my seat. Who the hay does he think he is? He owns a tiny cafe in a small, podunk little village for Celestia’s sake!

I grumble and retrieve my bag, pocketing my bits as I continue my search for food. The sun’s rising, already clearing the horizon, so most of the businesses would be open. Question remains, however, if they’ll be as helpful as Peppy le Snob was. If this is the general undertone of the town, I’d rather hoof it to the next, but the closest one is Canterlot, and to the moon with that option!

“See, Apple Bloom, runnin’ the cart ain’t nothing!”

The rustic accent catches my attention. Farmers, without a doubt, so they should know the value of a bit, right? Couldn’t hurt to try, at least. Their setup is only a small cart holding a couple buckets of apples, and the mare running it seems friendly enough. She’s graciously smiling at all passerby’s, the few out this early, anyway. As I walk over, she catches my eye and steps back so I can behold the full view of the fruits of her labor.

Red, shining, glistening in the morning dew. My stomach hurts just thinking about sinking my teeth into one of those ripe, delicious—

“See something ya like?”

The orange mare steps forward, offering me a quizzical look and a reserved smile. Only now do I realize my eyes are glazed over, and I am, in fact, standing in a small puddle of what I can only hope to be my drool.

Horseapples! “Uh, yes,” I turn back to the cart, “how much for an apple?”

“Well,” she looks them over, snatching one from the top. “This Ah’d reckon to be about three bits.”

Three bits? Yes! “Yes!” I exclaim, earning the ears of the surrounding salesponies. “Oh, uhm, I mean, yes, please.”

Hurriedly, I dig in my satchel, snatching the coins from within. I turn back to the pony. Her eyes match mine for a split second, and the next I'm left staring at the brightening sky as pain shoots through my spine. This is happening entirely too often today. Three small fillies tumble in front of, as well as my bits! No, I need those! They land perfectly in one of their manes, the white unicorn’s, to be exact.

Before I can react, however, they jump to their hooves, exchange a few rushed words, and take off once more to wherever they were going. I can only sit and stare helplessly as my bits are taken away to Celestia knows where.

“Sorry about yer bits, there, er…”

I sit in silence and watch. Those three fillies summarize my luck, apparently.

“Rrright. Anyways, look, if it would help, ya can have one of my apples for free. Consider it compensation fer my sister an’ her friends.” The mare walks around and presents an apple. It wasn’t nearly as ripe, or as hardy as the one worth three bits, but my growling stomach was the only answer she needed. She drops it in front of my hoof without another word.

“Th-thank you.” I manage a weak smile and snatch the fruit before me, sinking my teeth into the flesh without another word. When I finished, the orange mare returned, looking off into the crowd, but speaking to me.

“Say, you’re new in town, ain’t ya?”

“Yes.” I rise to my hooves, finally meeting the eyes of giving farm pony. Deep emeralds stare back, covered lightly by golden bangs and a dark brown stetson. Three white freckles dot either cheek, and her smile gives a warm understanding. I cough into my hoof, rubbing my mane in anticipation. “Thanks for the apple, it was really nice. I promise, when I can, I’ll be back with bits and be a proper customer.”

“Sure would appreciate that,” the orange pony tips her hat in recognition, “Say, I never quite caught yer name.”

“Oh, it’s, uh… Green Oak?” I smile what I can only was genuine friendliness. Her narrowed eyes prove me wrong. “Uhm… yours?”

“Name’s Applejack, pardner!” Applejack claims confidently, removing any hint of awkwardness.

“It’s been a pleasure, Applejack,” I respond happily. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“See ya ‘round!”

She waves me away before dealing with an oncoming customer. She’s nice. Hopefully I can repay her properly, but that’s a problem for another time. Top priority: find a job. With as prominent a market square as this “Ponyville” seems to have, there might be farms around.

Ponyville is very different in the daytime. The ponies of this town must love it to death. Walking down the street alone seems to deserve a smile from any and all passerbies. Wonder if they’d still smile knowing I’m broke and basically just stole from one of their farmers. I mean, she offered me the app— No, she just dropped it in front of my hooves without another word. She didn’t demand anything, she didn’t ask for any bits, she just gave me breakfast, and all I did was walk away. Didn’t even ask her if she needed help. She must hate me.

I find myself taking an interest in a pebble trodden deep into the dirt path by years of shoppers. Shoppers? Lifting my head confirms my suspicions; I have not yet left the market square. In fact, I’ve only made it a couple steps from the apple vendor, Applejack. Do I dare look back? Is she looking at me? Oh Celestia, is she judging me? Is she waiting for something? Has she noticed I stopped moving? I gotta risk it. Just a glance, just a glance, just a…

I turn my head with a nervous smile. I lock eyes with the orange mare for less than a millisecond before she turns forward, welcoming another customer. She-she was looking at me, and I blew it!

A sigh escaped my lips, audible or not I can’t say since the number of shoppers have picked up considerably, trapping me in the middle of it all. Come on hooves, get moving. If I act like I know where to go, I might be able to escape with what little dignity I have between my legs. Luckily, my hooves react, moving me forward, away from the orange mare, away from her lingering gaze, away from the apples.

The ponies make room for me, obviously looking to avoid the outcast. They still smile. Why do they still smile as if they didn’t just see what happened? They’re taunting me. They know, they know and they judge. I force a smile, but my eyes still refuse to raise above the hooves.

Finally left the market square after what felt like an eternity. Less ponies here now. The ones that are are just passing by to get to the market. At least they aren’t looking at me anymore. I raise my head, looking around for any sort of landmark. Trees and houses frame the street, each having its own look, its own story. Each saying the same thing.

The ponies love this town. Small boxes of flowers adorn every window, bountiful gardens are tended to, and even the path I’m walking on looks clean, for dirt, anyway. It’s all a little eerie, honestly. Whatever, small aspects aren’t important right now. I suppose I should find out what exactly is around here. Where would I find a map of town? Library. Definitely library.

My next stop is the library, and it’s a great tree. Seriously? A tree. Yeah. From the looks of it, it’s a kind of baobab tree that was hollowed out. What would a baobab tree be doing here? From the looks of it,, Ponyville gets heavy snowfall every year, and that would most definitely kill any kind of baobab trees. Unless magic has some sort of play in this, but I doubt it. Keeping this thing alive would strain any unicorn to their full extent.

I knock on the door. That’s wood for sure, but a different kind. I wonder if… I knock on the wall beside the door. That is not wood. Well, it might be, but is certainly not any kind of carved out tree. This thing was built rather than grown. What a shame.

“Can I help you?”

Oh, I have been feeling this tree for so long I didn’t notice the door had been opened. “Oh, sorry. Yes, actually, I was wondering if you had anyyyeeeEE!” I words freeze in my throat. She lives in the library? She, Princess Twilight Sparkle, lives in the library of Ponyville.

“Any…?” The purple alicorn waves a hoof in front of my face and cocks an eyebrow. “Erm, are you oka—”

“MAP!”

She looks at me. No, she’s glaring at me. I just cut her off. I walked up to her door, I froze in front of her, and I just screamed in her face. My life is officially over.

“S-sorry,” is all I can manage to say as I turn dejectedly away. Why am I so stupid? Why can I not talk to any pony! Well, she is a princess. It’s really no use going on at this point, I should just leave. When I’ve gone down the stairs and a few steps from the door, she manages to speak up.

“Are you asking for a map of Ponyville?” a spark lights in the top of of her eyes, “Are you new here, by chance?”

“Yes… yes I am.” I turn and bow to the princess. “My name is Green Oak, your Majesty.” She looks taken aback. Buck, I didn’t get it right. I messed up! Again!

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” My raised eyebrow provokes her further. “Just Twilight is fine. I’m not one for formalities, hence my home.” She motions to the pseudo-tree.

“Oh, right.” I rub the back of my mane. “Actually, speaking of your home, what kind of tree is it? It sounds synthetic, and I don’t think a tree like this could even survive a winter here.”

She chuckles to her wall. “Right you are, actually. You must really know your trees.”

“It’s my cutie mark,” I say happily, turning to show her the cartoonish tree resting on my flank. The only difference between what I just did and 20 years in the dungeon would be a sign reading Five bits a night.

“Oh, a true dendrologist. I’ve dabbled in the subject myself.”

“And yet you probably know more than I do,” I joke, earning a small laugh from the princess. Score one to social aptitude!

“Well, come in, and I’ll see if I have anything that can help you.”

She retreats deeper into the library, holding the door to invite me in. The library is completely full of books. Normally that wouldn’t come as anything special, but there is no shelf space. It’s even leaking onto a nearby desk. Scrolls, quills, various other calligraphy tools litter the tables, and books even line the staircase where she ventures further, leaving me alone.

Leafing through the books, I’ve found a book on wooded plants. Dendrology and You. At least I can brush up on here; maybe this wasn’t so bad. Wait. Is that a Daring Do book? I believe it is. Daring Do and the Quest of the Sapphire Stones. Stepping back, the sign above does say “Nonfiction,” yet the books sit proudly on the shelf. Sliding the book back, I step away. Apparently this library uses some advanced technique of organization not suitable for my idiotic brain. I’ll have to figure it out later.

In the meantime, what else does this library have to offer? Outside of the shelves, on a stand of its own, sits a book with no name. It’s open, revealing a spectacular set of blank pages. It looks halfway through, though. Surely there are entries before this. No one’s around. One peak shouldn’t hurt.

“I found a map,” came a voice from upstairs. Darn, too early. I let the previous pages fall limply as the book returns to its blank slate.

“Thanks.” The map is a scroll, and dated to boot. The tall tower in the center, labeled simply “Ponyville,” has a small network of little buildings, none labelled, surrounding the base. To the Southern point, taking easily half the map and extending onto the unknown, was an orchard. It looks like a ten minute walk, tops! “This,” I point to the farm, “Is this an orchard?”

She looks over my shoulder. “Oh yes, that’s Sweet Apple Acres! Equestria’s top apple producer.”

“‘Top apple producer’… Do you think they’re hiring?”

The brings a hoof to her chin in obviously fake contemplation. “I don’t know, but I bet they could use a pony with your knowledge, anyway.” She offers a reassuring smile. Sweet Celestia, this pony wants to be friends with every pony ever.

“Thanks. Is this map still accurate?”

“Relatively. Just head out the door and to the right; you should see their sign in no time.”

“Thank you so much.” I place the map in her open hoof and head out the door, making a sharp right and trotting quickly down the street.

In no time at all I’m greeted by a large arch. The name of the farm isn't there, though. All that hangs is a sign with a picture of an apple. The small white fence is nice, though, and the hedges framing the archway give a down-to-earth feel, I suppose. The apples that dot the hedges are a little off putting, though. Taking pride in one’s work is important, but apples in a hedge?

There’s a stallion pulling a cart loaded with apples all the color of his coat, bright red, into a barn just nearby. Better now than never, I suppose. When I reach the doors, he’s unloading the bushels onto the hay floor beneath. No doubt getting ready to drag another cart load through soon.

I knock, piquing his interest as he lifts his head to me, his calm eyes pressing my words forth. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

He’s forgotten the cart, now leaning on it to allow me the chance to speak.

“I was curious. Are you, by any chance, hiring? I was told this was the best choice given my talent.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

I swallow the rock in my throat and step into the barn. What was that word Twilight used: dendrology? If not, close enough. “I’m a dendrologist; I study trees and other wooded plants. This was the only orchard I know of, so I was thinking that I could… help?”

The cocked brow furrows. He approaches me calmly, circling my figure. My attempt at raising my posture only ends in a fit of nervous coughing. He smirks to himself, blinking a few times before answering. “Nnnope.”

Nope? “Surely you can think of some way I could be helpful? I-I could help with the trees, I could help with the farming. I’ve been on a farm before, so I know the whole routine.”

He turns back to the bushels, continuing to unload them from the cart. “Nnnope.”

“What do you mean ‘nnnope’?”

“Nnnope.”

I was about to talk, but another voice cuts me off. It came from outside. “Who ya talkin’ to, Big Mac?”

That voice, it sounds so familiar. It’s that apple pony. What’s her name? Apple… jack. Yeah, Applejack. She comes in and sees her brother and I in the barn. She turns from her brother to me, her eyes narrowing instantly.

“Ho-aah no. Nope, nu-uh.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nope, yer not here. This ain’t gonna happen again.”

Her brother snorts as he takes the emptied cart out, closing the door behind him with an audible smack. Applejack doesn’t seem to notice as she approaches.

“Look, Green. I know why yer here.”

“You do? Great, then you can—”

She cuts me off with a wave of her hoof. “I’ve seen this before. Look, I know I helped ya’ll out this morning, but that don’t mean you can live here.”

“What? No, no—”

“Ah ah! Shh. I ain’t runnin’ a squatter’s home, ya hear? My family ‘re all hard workin’ ponies. We don’t do handouts.”

“That’s not my intention! Yes, I want to thank you for your generosity, but I don’t want none of that. I actually wanted to join ya’ll on the farm.”

“Oh, so that’s your angle?” Her neutral expression faded to one of annoyance. Her cheeks flared and she advanced to me.

“Angle?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen a stallion like you before. All prim and high-fashion, yet once he saw me, he wanted to give it all up for a simpler life. With me.”

I could feel the heat of my own cheeks. “Oh, oh! Oh no, that’s not what I want.”

“Beg pardon?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just want to work here. You know, repay you for the kindness and maybe get back on my hooves?”

“So you do wanna work here?”

“Yes!”

“And ya ain’t lying?”

“Of course not.”

“Alright then.” She looks me over. “Ya’ll were talking about yer special talent. What might that be?”

“Oh, yes!” I display my cutie mark proudly. “I’m a dendrologist! I work with trees and wooded plants.”

“Is that right?” She turns to the closed door, looking past them to field that lay beyond, I’m sure. “Well then, we might just have a use for you after all.” A warm smile breaks her interrogating attitude. “Come with me.”

She leaves with me right behind her. “Where are we going?”

“To talk with Granny Smith.”

“Of course.” Granny Smith, who doesn’t know Granny Smith? “Mind if I ask why?”

“She’s the elder of this here farm, o’ course!” She sounds surprised a pony would even need to ask. “She has the final say on any new members to the business.”

“Ohh, okay. I got it.”

She leaves the barn, leaving the door open and motioning me forward. I comply anxiously. The sooner I can begin working, the sooner I can start earning my keep. Those two sound similar, don’t they? Again, semantics. Hey, change of scenery.

Applejack has lead me to a rustic, aged cabin that can only be described as homely. The stallion from earlier was sitting on a faded green couch, the same faded green as the coat of the elderly pony rocking in her chair, clearly out cold. That must be Granny Smith. The big red pony notices us first.

“Er, Applejack?” he begins, ushering her forth, an irritatingly nervous scowl painting his face.

Applejack strides over confidently. “Yes, Big Mac?” His name is Big Mac, how appropriate.

They begin conversing heatedly, having to escape to the recesses of the house so as not to be heard. They close the door behind them, prompting the elder to wake up.

“Wha, hoozit?” She looks around quickly as if she doesn’t know where he is. Her eyes eventually land on me and shrink. “Whooahh? And who might you be, sonny?”

“I’m Green Oak, ma’am,” I say cooly, smiling softly at the weathered pony.

“Well shucks, no need to be so nervous! If’n ya got this far, ya must be doin’ somethin’ right!”

“Right.” I turn to the closed door across the room. “I wonder what they’re discussin’.”

“Oh, just like Applejack ta run off like a rat with a piece of cheese. Applejack! We got company!”

“I know, Granny,” replied Applejack with Big Mac in tow. “We were just talkin ‘bout that, actually. This fella here wants a job at Sweet Apple Acres.”

Granny returns her gaze to me, all hint of hospitality gone. “Oh he does, does he?”

The rock in my throat is back. I can only hope it doesn’t break my speech. “Yes ma’chm.” Yep. Perfect.

She’s still looking at me like a wolf, Applejack and Big Mac with smug smiles standing right behind her. I never realized the Apple family was a gang. I cough into my hoof to clear the tension, and when I return the mare’s gaze, she’s right in front me. She moves quickly for an old pony. Normally I’d jump at that, but if I move an inch I will collapse and melt between the floorboards. He’s looking at me with one eye, the other is shut tight.

“Well why didn’t ya just say so! Come on in, Green Nokes!” Close enough. “I’ll introduce ya to the family,” she motions to Applejack, “This here’s Applejack.”

“It’s a pleasure, Green,” she responds cockily. They’re going to gut me here in this room. I know it.

“This here’s Big Macintosh,” the green mare has moved on to the burly red stallion glaring evenly at me. I am going to be their dinner. No one will ever hear the story of Green Oak again.

“And Apple Bloom is somewhere I reckon. She should be back soon. Applejack, where’s yer sister?”

“Ain’t seen her since this morning, Granny. She was off crusadin’ with her friends. Knocked this stallion right off his hooves, too.” She stifles a laugh at my expense.

“It’s almost dark. She should be home for sup—”

“Coming through!”

All four heads turn to find a yellow filly careening through the door, sweeping under my hooves, and landing against one of Big Mac’s forelegs, coming to a dead halt, I think. I did not see it, for I am now looking at the interesting light fixtures dangling from the ceiling. The green mare was looking at me dumbfoundedly, then turned to the yellow filly.

“And that there’s Apple Bloom.”

“Pleasure to meet youuuuooOH! It’s you!” I was pointing a hoof directly at the filly, and didn’t notice until Applejack slapped it away.

“Don’t go pointin’ yer hooves where they don’t belong, Green.”

She is defensive of her family, her twang speaks louder around them. I must approach this situation very, very carefully. Firstly, I must stop breathing like a bull about to charge. “You’re that little filly from earlier today! You and your little friends knocked me over and made me lose my bits!” Secondly, I must stop shouting. She’s hidden behind her brother’s leg, and I am avoiding his gaze like the plague.

Applejack steps forward to block my gaze. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

I grab a lungful of air and breathe out slowly, recapping the events. “I went to your stand to buy an apple. When I went to retrieve your bits, Apple Bloom and two other young fillies crashed into me, knocking loose the bits I had held in my mouth.” They know what your mouth is, Green, stop pointing to your teeth! “They landed in a filly’s hair, and then they took off. Which is why I flopped to the ground right after…”

Applejack looks at me for a good minute before turning her sister. Her eyes search deep within the filly for the truth, and finds it. She release a pent up sigh and approaches me. “Alright, I believe ya.” She pulls me in closer, “But point at my younger sister like that again, and it won’t just be your bits that you lose. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.” She looks to her younger sister. “Apple Bloom, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry, mister.”

“It’s alright, Apple Bloom.” Her brother’s malice turns defensive as he steps away from the filly, putting her in the spotlight.

“That’s great that ya’ll made up like that,” Applejack shatters the sorrowful silence with her cheery attitude. “Cause from now on, ya’ll’ll be spendin’ plenty of time together.”

“Say what?” Apple Bloom and I ask in simultaneous disbelief.

“Eeeyup,” enforced Big Mac, the same smile threatening his stoic demeanor.

“Ya see,” Applejack began, taking a seat on the couch. “Green, ya ain’t an Apple. I doubt you’re a good apple bucker, neither.”

“Thanks.” Always the uplifting kinds, these ponies. On the other hoof, I completely agree.

“And Apple Bloom, you’re young, too young to apple buck, and ya don’t seem interested in running the store.”

“That’s not true!” the young filly protested. “I love the store!”

“ Is that why ya left with yer friends this mornin’?”

The filly tries to protest, but falls flat against her sister’s logic.

“Now then. I’m not interested in teaching twice, so what’s going to happen is: Green, you’re going to Apple Bloom’s tutor. Every mornin’ I’m gonna teach ya something about the farm, and it’ll be up to you to make sure Apple Bloom learns about it by supper; Apple Bloom, you’re going to listen to Green and do everything he says, got it?”

“Yes, sis.” Apple Bloom looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Her glare could cut maple.

“On top of that, Green, you’ll be in charge of Apple Bloom. Apple Buck Season is approaching, and neither Big Mac nor I have the time to look after her. That will be your job. Understand?”

“How far does that extend?” The little filly can’t be too much trouble, right?

“Ya make sure she learns her lessons, goes to school, does her homework, and generally keeps out of trouble during the day.”

Right. “Alright, that sounds good.”

“Great!” Applejack claps her hooves together. “Now, it’s supper time. Apple Bloom, come help me in the kitchen. Green, we’ll discuss the technicalities tomorrow mornin’. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

I collapse onto the seat, Big Mac beside me. His questioning looks don’t matter. Granny’s resumed snoring doesn’t matter. I am off my hooves on my own accord, and the smell of baked goods fill the air. The deep rumble of my stomach is only temporary, anyway.

Beginning Employment

The sun peaks above the orchard, and a distant rooster crows, signaling the official start of morning. Carefully now, carefully off the couch, wouldn’t want to collapse to the floor. Heh, an upgrade, isn’t it? From bench to couch in one day. Progress! Hah! I should write self help books.

No, wait, I think that market is cornered around the minotaurs. Or minotaur, rather. I shouldn’t knock him; he did a wonder for the people my old town when he visited. The wall-eyed goats I would rather leave than take, but beggars can’t be choosers and such.

The green couch offers little conversation in return. I wonder if eggs will. Opening the door, however, reveals an orange mare already at the stove, the sizzling of something in a cast iron pan filling the room, and the smell of cooking batter filling the room

“Mornin’, Green,” Applejack greets without looking from the pan. She smiles at the cooking food.

“Good morning, Applejack.”

Accenting the sizzling pan, the entire kitchen looks busy. Bowls, bags, cartons, jugs, and more litter the limited counter space. It looks like some pony tipped over a fridge onto them.

I tap my hoof briefly on the wooden floors before uttering, “Do you, um, want any help?” What else is there to do this early?

Applejack finally looks away from the stove, surveying the chaos around her. “Sure, if you want. You can start putting the ingredients back. I’ve pretty much made what I need, anyway.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

She turns back to the pan. One step forward, one step back. “Dry goods in the pantry, expirables in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

Time passes slowly as Applejack stirs the mixture in the pan and I stare at the open bag of flour, wondering how in Equestria I am to put it back. Also, how was Applejack able to get it out in the first place? Patience and determination, I think. Well, who dares wins, yeah?

As I reach for the bag, Applejack sparks small talk. “So Green, we never got the chance to actually talk before. Did we?”

Looks like I’ll be moving this thing with my hooves. “Uh, no. Not… really…” Careful, careful.

“So, you’re new in town, right?”

“Yes.” Didn’t she ask that yesterday?

“Where are ya from?”

“Some little village NorthEast of Manehattan.” Little, now there’s an understatement. This farm is easily bigger than that place. And it’s run by a fraction of the ponies, too.

“I see. And what made ya wanna leave?”

The million bit question. “I didn’t see eye to eye with my neighbors.” Or my family.

“Oh?” The scraping of the spoon on the pan softens to near nonexistent. “What happened?”

“Schooling, mainly. I lived in a relatively poor community, and there wasn’t enough money to do anything formal. I wanted to move on to Manehattan to study my talent; they had other ideas.”

“Sorry to hear ‘bout that.”

“It’s alright.”

The stirring resumes. “Is that why you left?”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s why I left.”

She goes quiet, leaving me to my work. Lying isn’t bad, right? No pony is able to tell the whole truth all the time. Necessary evils. At least now I can move these things with my mouth rather than fumble about with my hooves. By the time I’ve closed the pantry door, Applejack declares breakfast done. Also about that time the other three file into kitchen, each taking a respective seat at a nearby table as Applejack begins serving them.

On each plate is a stack of three pancakes. Five plates, fifteen pancakes. Why isn’t my cutie mark numbers? Applejack begins eating, as does Big Mac and Granny Smith. Apple Bloom, on the other hand, has hardly touched her food. Come to think of it, the plate sitting before me looks in nearly pristine condition as well. I’m waiting for the syrup, but the filly has it. Wonder what she’s thinking. Probably how come I have to be her mentor. I’d like to know, too, but I also want to keep my new employment. Between poverty and a confusing place. Deja vu.

“Apple Bloom,” Granny Smith speaks up, looking at the dejected filly. “Why, you’ve barely laid a hoof on your food. Somethin’ on your mind?”

All eyes land on the little pony. She looks at me, then to her sister. “Why do I have to be looked after? I’m a big pony!”

“Yes you are,” Applejack reasons, letting her fork down and cupping her chin in her hooves. “But neither Mac nor I have time ta teach ya ‘bout apple buckin’. We got work ta do, and little time ta do it, ya understand? With an extra set of hooves, we would all be in a better place time wise with our schedules. And heck, even with some actual training, ya might just get your cutie mark!” She finishes with added, genuine gusto, and it reflects in the filly’s eyes.

“Really? Ya think I can?”

“Definitely.” She shoots the elder mare a wink, who responds with a smirk to her pancakes. Big Mac just does… Big Mac over there in his seat. He seems to genuinely enjoy the food, completely detached from the conversation unfolding around him.

She looks at me once again, thankfully without dejected eyes. “Alright. I suppose I can try it out for today. Y’know, see how he does and all.”

“Glad ta hear it, Sugarcube.” Applejack smiles at the filly, earning a smile back. “Welp, time for work. Green, stick with me, I’ll getcha in on the basics.”

“Uh, okay.” Singled out.

The apples are quick to leave the table, the eldest retreating upstairs, Big Mac opening the door for an excited Apple Bloom, and shutting it behind him, leaving Applejack and I alone.

“Follow me, Green.” She gestures for me to follow as she walks out the door. Cracking my neck, I follow.

Soon after, we arrive to an endless row of apple trees, and another beside that one, and another beside that, and another, and another, and another. They go on forever! Up hills, filling the contours of the landscape, at the peaks of what look like mountains. The only break from them is the spot we’re standing it, a clearing made specifically for the house, barn, and… that’s all, really. The Apples are not given enough credit for their supply.

Applejack approaches a tree and turns to me. “This here’s an apple tree.”

Well then, ‘basics’ really does mean basic. The next lesson is hopefully more specific. Probably about the apples on the tree.

“This field’s the red delicious apples.”

Nailed it.

“Then are are golden delicious, mcintosh, granny smith, zap apples, honeycrisp, gala, braeburn, so on.”

“Uh-huh… Wait, did you say ‘zap apple’?”

“Sure as sugar did. Only farm this side of Equestria to have ‘em, too!”

“I’ve heard of them! Little is actually known about the trees, though. They say that a… a ‘ritual’ is needed before they even blossom!”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘rituals,’ but we do have to make sure everythin’ goes exactly right!”

“I’ve never had Zap Apple Jam… What’s it like?”

Applejack pauses, bringing a hoof to her chin in thought. “Think sour but with a kick. Electrifying.”

Wow. “Where are the trees?”

“Over there,” she nods to a distant patch of trees near a forest. “But that ain’t for another couple months.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry nothing about it, time passes quickly on the farm. You’ll be sinking your teeth in some zap apple jam in no time!”

“Hopefully.”

“Now then!” She takes a commanding lead, ushering me to the first tree in a long line. “Apple trees are living things like the rest of us.”

Does she not know I study trees? Have I not flashed my flank to this mare yet?

“Ya can’t beat ‘em to get whatcha want, it’s a give an’ take.”

Her twang has returned. It seems more natural when she discusses apples or her family. Why does she hide it otherwise?

“Always kick jus’ off the base o’ the tree, it’s low enough to provide a good shake to the branches, but high enough as ta not damage the roots.” She rears back, sending her back legs into the tree with a resounding thwack, then turns to me as apples pour all around her. “Got it?”

“I think so?”

“Then give it a try.”

She walks to the next tree in line, drawing an imaginary “x” where I should kick, then steps back. She’s just watching with an even stare, not cold but not welcoming, either. It’s certainly not encouraging. Even as I make my way to the tree, she just follows me with her eyes. I’m going to hurt this tree. She knows this. Her raised eyebrow says enough.

Now or never. The lump in my throat prevents a comforting swallow, so I turn away from the tree. Deep breath. Rock forward on your hooves. Hunch your legs, and… Swing!

And Nothing. There was no resistance, only the time being filled with silence as my back legs flop lazily in the air before coming back down to the soft ground. The grass is parted where my hooves landed. Applejack noticed, switching from leg to leg, back and forth, back and forth, just looking at the ground. She’s definitely checking out the hooves. Clearly. They’re not that funny, though.

“Why not try again? Actually bucking the tree this time?”

“Right…”

Alright, take two. Once more, with a little less failure. I like that idea. Reposition myself, take two steps back, er, three for safe measure. Ignore Applejack’s gaze at all cost. Rock forward on my hooves, hunch my back legs, and… kick! Luckily, a resounding ‘Thwak!’ fills the orchard, and some apples fall overhead. Applejack is nodding slightly, looking at the base of the tree.

“Alright, good first try. You’re too high, kick a little lower. Might help to also see where you’re kicking, too.”

“Right.”

Take three. Take stance, rock forward, rear legs, and kick. Lower this time. Another ‘Thwak!’ and the apples come tumbling down this time. Like bright, plump, red rain. Applejack smiles and rests a hoof on the tree.

“Good job. Forgot to look back, but ya got it.”

I am amazing.

“Try the next one.”

I retract my statement.

I walk to the next tree, Applejack in tow, and ready myself. Checklist gone over, rear forward and kick! Another bout of apples rain into the baskets. Hah! And they said my bucking skills would go away from not practicing. Whoever “they” are...

“Not bad,” Applejack praises, looking at the tree. “For a beginner, anyway. Way I see it, you’re looking at two, maybe three kicks per tree to get whatcha want.”

Improvement! It’s slight, but improvement nonetheless. “Thanks, Applejack,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t do nothin’. Now then, get bucking. We got a lot of work to do, and little time to do it!”

She happily trots to elsewhere in the orchard, well beyond my sight, leaving me to buck the remaining tree in the line. And the next line, too. And probably the one after that. That looks like a lot of trees; best get started.

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Next Line.

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Next Line.

How does Applejack do this? It’s so monotonous. By the third line my muscles have gotten used to the motion, leaving my mind to wander. Speaking of muscles, or lack thereof in my case, they burn! Like the sun blazing over my head, they burn! Can’t stop now, though, I’ve completed two and a half lines, and another three stare at me. Can’t show weakness yet!

But I’m not build for kicking these trees. Leave that work to the strong earth ponies like Big Macintosh and Applejack. I study them. I figure out what’s inside. I learn how to help them! I can make these trees healthier. Like this one.

It’s weak. Not sickly, just weaker than the rest. The constant kicking in the same place has made this side softer. They need to alternate sides. A few more seasons of bucking, and this tree will lose all phloem travel on this side. The entire tree will suffer!

A soft prod, and the bark gives easily to the pressure. The other side, however, is still solid. Perhaps bucking this side will offer a better result? Well, only one way to find out. Roll forward, and kick! A solid thwack resonates satisfyingly around into the empty air, and hey, all of the apples fell on the first try. Efficiency!

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.

Still doesn’t solve the monotony. Fourth line, though. Three more to go. Just… just power through.

“Heya Green!”

“Agh!”

“Eep!”

Oh, oh Celestia, it’s only Apple Bloom. “Hi, Apple Bloom. What’re you doing here?”

Apple Bloom’s smile fades instantly, and she paws the ground. “Applejack sent me over here. Said I should be learnin’ ta buck trees. Figured she just wants me gone.”

“I can imagine that,” I respond, nodding.

“Hey!”

Oh that came out loud! “I mean, er, I can imagine you learning to apple buck…?” Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Uhm… okay then?” Speech. Master. “I’m supposed to teach you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Applejack says. Ah don’t understand why she has to treat me like a child so often. I’m a big filly; I can manage on my own!”

“I’m sure you can,” I offer. She looks at me, for the first time, with interest. “Of course, no pony knows everything about everything, so it helps to grab as much information as you can from as many ponies as possible. Variety is the spice of life and all that.”

“But my sister knows everythin’ about farming,” Apple Bloom says doubtfully.

“She might know everything about apples,” I rest a hoof on the tree that was about to rain its glorious red fruit down, “but I know everything about these beauties.”

“Like what?”

“Come on,” I wave my hoof, “I’ll show you.” I point to the tree’s base, the clear dent made from years of practiced bucking.

Apple Bloom looks quizzically at the soft patch of bark, obviously missing the whole point of the image.

“Poke it,” I say.

She prod the edge of her hoof, her eyes widening when it sinks into the bark with little effort. “It seems… I dunno, softer than I thought wood would be.”

“Yeah, that’s what comes from years of bucking in the same spot. Every year the flesh grows weaker, meaning ya’ll have to buck harder. It’s a horrible cycle that only kills the trees quicker. Come.” I lead her to the other side. “If ya’ll alternate where you buck on the trees, the trees might last longer. Of course, they still will need to be replanted every so often.”

“I didn’t know ponies could affect trees like that.”

“Of course. Trees are living things like the rest of us. The only difference is they prefer silence. Ask your sister, she’ll probably say the exact same thing.”

“Wow, how come ya know so much about trees?”

“Well…” Story time, fillies! “I grew up on an orchard, and it is my cutie mark, after all.”

The filly takes a moment to inspect my flank before nodding and facing me again. “Do ya think I could earn my cutie mark in trees?”

“I can’t say no,” I answer, “But I think you might want another cutie mark.”

“Why’s that?” The filly halts her prodding of the tree and turns her eyes to me. Do I dare?

“Trees are…” I press my hoof against the rigid bark. “Well, they’re not very conversational. Living on a farm, your time with friends is limited as it is; I wouldn’t exactly suggest a talent where you take a special interest in these things.”

“Oh,” she looks to the floor. “Is that why they call you Green Oak, then?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Is that even your real name?”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Now come on, I’m supposed to teach you something. Or something? I don’t know, do you?”

“No, not really.”

“Great! Let’s begin. Firstly, this is a tree.” I paw the bark.

“Ah know what a tree is. Ah live in an’ orchard.”

“I know, I know… I’m just trying to copy Applejack. Hopefully you’ll do better than I did, though.”

“Wait, what did you do?”

“I… missed my first attempt.”

A short snort erupts from her muzzle. “Really!?”

“Quiet, you. Just buck the tree.”

“Unlike you?” Her smile could test the patience of Celestia.

“Shut it.”

She smirks, standing to her hooves and approaching the tree. Readying her stance, she throws her back hooves into the tree. A perfectly placed apple fell from its branch, and right onto her head.

“Well… you hit it. Didn’t get much of a response, though.”

“At least I hit it!”

“That is true. Hmm. Try hitting here, instead, just above the base where the roots combine to the trunk.”

And nothing. No apples this time. She hit it, square on the bark, but nothing.

“Well then, sorry Apple Bloom. Guess you’re just not old enough to do this. Or, I guess strong enough.”

“I know, just try tellin’ my sister that! She keeps wanting me to buck apples, but every time I have ta get Big Macintosh to help or else I would get nothing done.”

“And then that torch has been passed to me. I think I’m basically just doing your job for you.” I am an integral part to any community, clearly. “I guess that means I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, and you just go… do whatever it is you do all day.”

“Well, I normally go hang out with Sweetie and Scoots trying to get my cutie mark.”

“Then go do… that.” I wave my hoof away. “I don’t honestly see why you should be subjected to this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, what would you realistically do here? Watch me? I don’t think either of us want that…”

“Yeah…” she looks off into the distance, contemplating something briefly before turning back. “Thanks, Green!”

And they’re off. Carrying the lead is none other than the yellow lightning bolt, Apple Bloom. Her speed is impeccable, Green. Just look how quickly she can run from responsibilities! Hah! Comedy…

The trees still haven’t moved. They remain towering over the landscape like wooden spires, and it’s my job to bring down the literal fruits of their labor. The sun has since passed the grace of morning, and now shines brightly directly over this landscape. Let the bucking resume!

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck. And so on.

Sun’s almost gone now. The orchard’s hills in the distance block out the sun and bathe the land in a false evening. Can’t complain, though. This is the last tree in the line, and the last thing to do before works lets off. Six lines of trees, in retrospect, isn’t a lot to handle, but being out of practice definitely made the job harder than it had to be. At least the day will end and I can collect the money before night truly comes.

The last of the red rain fills the giant buckets at the base of the tree, and the last of my work is done. Just as Big Mac arrives, too. He nods, and we begin loading the buckets onto the cart he brought. In no time they’re all stacked, and we can return to the farmhouse.

Applejack is waiting there for us. She notices our arrival, then retreats to the inner workings of the house as Big Mac and I unload the apples into the barn to be sorted later. Probably by Granny Smith. Hey, Apple Bloom is back too, slipping in the door as quietly as she can manage. The door closes with a soft click, and friendly mumbling is heard being exchanged from the filly and the orange mare.

Once the buckets are safely resting on the ground, Big Mac leads the way into the farmhouse, releasing a cascade of appley delights to all senses as he does so. Granny Smith is trotting slowly to the table, taking a seat next to an excited Apple Bloom, and soon after Big Mac joins them. Applejack brings out the first course, and soon all are digging into the harvest’s yield.

Apple Bloom helps Granny Smith upstairs, and Big Mac soon follows.

“How’d Apple Bloom do today?” Applejack asks once we were alone.

“Apple Bloom did fine.”

“Did she learn to buck?”

“She already knew how.”

“Oh?” Applejack pauses and looks towards me. “So she helped you with the trees, then?”

“Well…” How to phrase this easily. “She knows how to buck, she’s just too young to. I ended up letting her go off somewhere around midday.”

“Ya let her go?”

Her gaze hardens. “Yeesss?”

“Gosh darnit. How’s that filly suppose ta learn a proper work ethic if she just leaves halfway through the day?”

It’s not a case of work ethic, she’s just incapable of doing the work. “I’m sure she’ll get one once she’s able to do the work asked of her.”

“I know, it’s just…” she sighs and places the dishes on a counter. “I don’t know with her, you know? It seems she’s more interested in her cutie mark than apple bucking.”

She wants to know if apple bucking is really what she’ll be doing with her life. She just wants to explore a little before settling down in the family business. “Well, weren’t you interested in your cutie mark before you knew it was farming?”

Applejack bites her lips, looking at the circle her hoof was drawing on the table. “Yeah, I was…”

“Well, great minds think alike. Before you know it, I bet Apple Bloom will be more than happy to join you with apple bucking.”

“Heh, I hope so, Green,” she stands from the table and begins walking up the stairs, “I hope so… Good night.”

“Good night.”

The last of the lights are shut off, and a thin silvery veil overtakes the farmhouse. At least the couch is close by. All in all, successful day. Learned how to buck properly. Learned how to aim. Learned how to… let a filly run and shirk her responsibilities. Yep, things are coming up Green Oak.