A Berry Merry Hearth’s Warming
Admiral Biscuit
12-19-2013
I paced around the confines of my market stall restlessly. Most of the other booths had already closed, but I was hoping to sell a few more bottles of fruit juice—or maybe something stronger.
I looked up and down the street for the thousandth time. Nopony was in sight, save the few other salesponies still braving the cold. I began pulling the bottles off the shelves one-by-one, carefully nesting them in their excelsior packing. As each crate was filled, I slid it into my wagon, pushing it towards the front with the next loaded crate.
At least the snow's finally tapering off. I took a draught from my sample bottle. The weatherponies usually kept the snow away on official market days, but not today: they were ensuring that there was a nice fresh blanket of white for Hearth's Warming Eve.
I kept an eye out as I paced, but there weren't any other buyers. My neighbor had given up and closed his stall early; on the other side of the street Big Mac was still standing stoically behind the Sweet Apple Acres stand. Occasionally, he'd shift the ever-present sprig of wheat in his mouth from one side to the other, but that was all the expression he ever showed.
I took another drink. I wanted to stay until sunset with at least a few bottles on the counter. Maybe some last-minute shoppers would remember they didn't have enough wine put away for their Hearth's Warming dinner.
I looked at Big Mac again, grabbed my sample bottle in my mouth and walked around the side of my stall, crossing to the market stand. I set it on the counter.
He looked up and down the street to make sure nopony was looking, before he nodded at me. He leaned down and grabbed the neck of the bottle gently in his teeth, then tilted his neck back and let the brandy burn its way down his throat.
Just as gently, he set it back down on the counter and slid it—and a small bag of apples—across to me. Wordlessly, I took both back to my stand, setting the apples in the front of my cart, while the bottle went back on the counter.
❄ ❄ ❄
As the day's light faded, I trudged through the nearly deserted streets of Ponyville, my wagon in tow. It was still mostly full, sadly. I only sold a few bottles—not even a dozen.
Rather than head straight home, I headed for Golden Harvest's house to pick up my daughter. I could hear the heavy hooffalls of Big Mac behind me—if it had been anypony else, I'd have slowed and tried to carry on a conversation, but there was no use with him. He was a stallion of few words. Not that it mattered when it came to sales: mares lined up to try and charm him out of the best apples. As near as I could tell, it never worked, but that didn't stop them from trying.
Once I was past the turn-off to Sweet Apple Acres, the road rose up to Carrot Top—the farm that had given Golden Harvest her nickname. It wasn't much of a hill, but with a day of standing in the stall and a nearly-full wagon behind me, I had to dig my hooves in to make it. The downward leg promised to be just as fun, especially since the brakes were nearly worn out.
I heard the laughing voices of Berry Pinch and Noi before I saw them. The two fillies were frolicking around in the snow, galloping up small drifts and sliding down the other side. Golden Harvest was nosing through the deep leaf piles that protected her carrot patch, checking the ground to make sure it wasn't freezing.
“Mommy!” Berry Pinch's voice echoed over the yard. My daughter galloped through the snow, bounding towards me. Noi was more restrained, picking her way around the deeper drifts.
I trotted in place at the gate. The two fillies nuzzled each other goodbye, and then Pinch crossed into the road. “Me and Noi made a snowpony.” She pointed a hoof over at the yard. “They we slid around on the snowdrifts for a while, then we knocked the snowpony over in a snowball fight and had to fix her. Noi let me throw snowballs with my horn! But then we hit Golden Harvest and she was mad, so we stopped and slid around for a while more. And we made snow pegasuses, too. I had some hot chocolate with a peppermint stick in it. It was Noi's, but she shared it with me.”
I smiled. It was moments like this that made lousy days better . . . at least until I remembered the simple joys I'd experienced as a foal. Then the sad reality of my current situation came crashing back. Keep a brave face. You're doing this for her!
“What's for dinner?”
“Apples.” I jerked the cart forward with more force than needed. “Maybe some leftover timothy and oats.”
Pinch stuck out her tongue. “Eww, oats.”
“They're good for you. Make you strong.” I turned my head and tugged the brake handle, setting the shoes for the descent. “Stay off to the side, Pinch.” As I felt the breeching strap slam against my rump, I wondered again why I hadn't gone home and dropped the wagon off first.
I descended slowly, making sure that each hoof was firmly planted before moving another. The wagon had its own ideas; I could feel the sliding bar slipping and catching on the worn spots in the coupling pole. I'd have done better with a two-wheeled gambo for market days, but couldn't afford a second wagon.
Pinch slowed her pace to stay alongside me. “In school today we made drawings of things to do in the wintertime, then Cheerilee had each of us show our drawing and say what it was we were doing. Diamond Tiara said that her daddy takes her to Canterlot to go shopping for Hearths' Warming presents. She said that this year she'd be getting all the new Pastel Unicorn dolls, even the new princess doll. It uses a small gem and walks around and stuff. She said it was a simal . . . simul . . . simelakrim?”
“Simulacrum,” I corrected automatically. I'd heard a couple of fillies shopping with thier mothers talking about it. The display window in the Ponyville toy store had one, but it was already called for. I'd tried everything in my power to wrest it from the hooves of the store owner, but no luck. I didn't have the bits to buy it, and he didn't want to barter.
“Yeah! Can I get one?”
“No, honey. We haven't got enough money.”
“Oh.” She looked down at the ground and walked in silence to the bottom of the hill. “Why not?”
I grimaced. Such an innocent question, such a complicated answer.
“Just because, that's why.” Just because my good-for-nothing coltfriend left me not long after you were born. Just because I don't buy quite enough fruit each year to get a good discount, and can't tie up what little money I have buying my own land and planting my own. Just because I don't have a handsome and mysterious stallion to sell my wares. Just because . . . well, just because life isn't always fair.
“Cheerilee said that 'just because' isn't a real answer.”
I felt a headache coming on. “Well, tell Cheerilee to come over and look at the account books and see if I can do anything differently.” I released the brake on the wagon and yanked it forward. “If she wants to re-thatch the roof in the spring for free, that will help out.”
“Are you mad, mommy?”
“No.” I looked down at my daughter. “I—sometimes you don't get what you want. Maybe that's for the best.” I rubbed a hoof through her mane. “Tell you what, if you eat all your grains, I'll bake a nice pie for dessert.”
❄ ❄ ❄
I sat on the threadbare couch sipping a mug of mulled wine. It warmed me in a way the small fire in the hearth couldn't.
Pinch had already gone to bed. She'd run out of steam not long after dinner, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
We could just go to Manehattan and spend the holiday with my dad. If he's gotten over his embarrassment at siring earth ponies, and if I have enough money for train tickets. He probably had; the last few letters we'd exchanged had been pleasant enough. Still, to drop in without warning. . . .
My eyes dropped to the scarred wooden floor. If I could afford them, I'd buy shoes with removable caulks . . . but that was another thing that would just have to be put off for a few more years. As it was, the floor was already ruined, so there was no point in worrying about it.
Pinch's second-hand toys were mostly in a battered chest in her room, but one of her stuffies was draped across the back of the couch. I reached a leg up and knocked it from its perch, examining it thoughtfully. She'd had the thing for years, always used to sleep with it . . . even after months downstairs, it still smelled just like her.
I finished the glass and set it on the table, banked the fire for the night, and headed upstairs to my bedroom. On my way, I ducked into Pinch's room.
“I don't wanna go!”
“You have to.” I wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Everypony else is.”
“Diamond'll show off her new doll.”
“You probably won't even see her. We don't want to be late for the pageant.” I shoved my reluctant daughter out the door before she could protest further, a small smile on my face. I remembered when Dad would make me go to the pageant.
Pinch sullenly followed in my hoofsteps, occasionally kicking through drifts of snow. The boundless enthusiasm that she'd had the day before was gone, and I wasn't surprised. I'd run into Diamond and her friend Silver Spoon enough times at the market to know that both were stuck-up little bitches. At least Twilight put them in their places at Diamond's cute-ceañera. Too bad they didn't learn anything from it.
As we got close, Pinch heard the sounds of all the ponies gathered in the town square and began looking a little more excited. She'd gone nearly a full day without seeing her friends, and to a filly that was forever.
I angled over to a small cluster of my friends: Cherry Berry and Derpy were near the back, standing next to each other, while Dinky was perched on her mother's back.
“Where's Noi?” Pinch demanded.
“Sick,” Cherry replied. “Mr. Cake said that Goldie had to watch Noi, 'cause their parents are in Canterlot for the pageant there.”
I looked towards the distant farm. I could imagine how much she was griping about that. “Do you want to climb on my back so you can see better?” I asked Pinch.
“Uh-huh,” she said eagerly. I crouched down and Cherry helped her up. “Next year, you might be too big,” I told her.
“Nuh-uh, I will not.”
As it was every year, the pageant was in front of the Ponyville town hall. Rainbow Dash played Commander Hurricane and Fluttershy played Private Pansy—as they'd done here for years, except for the time they did it in Canterlot instead. Sparkler was Clover the Clever, Caramel played Smart Cookie, Dr. Hooves was Chancellor Puddinghead, and Pokey Pierce amused everypony with his masterful rendition of Princess Platinum.
After it was over, everypony sang Hearth's Warming songs together. Much to my relief, Diamond Tiara was all the way over on the other side, bundled up in a fancy winter saddle with matching scarf and boots. Even better, she didn't join the cluster of ponies headed into town.
Although being on the outskirts of the herd had drawbacks when it came to watching the pageant, we were the first ponies to make it to Sugarcube Corner. Cherry and I slid into our usual booth, while Derpy played with the foals outside, letting them throw snowballs at her. Millie came over and scooched into the booth, passing out small baskets of cookies to each of us, while I reached into my saddlebags and handed out bottles of clover wine. I always liked making a flower wine to be passed out each Hearth's Warming to my friends, and it was something that I wouldn't ever sell. The bottles were too precious for that, and you can't put a price on tradition.
Derpy came staggering in, her coat covered with snow. She was giggling, and so were both our foals, eagerly giving a play-by-play reenactment of the fight that had just ended. Pinch sat next to me and snuggled up against my side.
“Sparky!” Dinky practically jumped out of the booth as Sparkler came over. She nuzzled the unicorn and then Derpy, before sliding in with us. Since she was old enough now, I gave her a bottle of wine, too. She mouthed a 'thank you' at me—Dinky and Pinch were both telling her how great a Clover she'd been.
The night ended too soon, and we split up and went our separate ways, long after midnight. The town was showing no sign of slowing down; we passed a group of carolers near the fountain, and as we neared my house, I could hear a very drunken off-key rendition of “Santa Hooves is Coming to Town” drifting from the Prancing Pony. Years ago, I probably would have been there with them, and I nuzzled Pinch affectionately.
She was nearly asleep on her hooves when we got home, and hardly had enough energy to drag herself upstairs. I was tired, too, but the night wasn't done yet. Once she was tucked in, I went out to the shed and began carrying in the Hearth's Warming Decorations. I'd spend half the morning getting everything together.
Pinch woke me early the next morning—too early. “Mommy, mommy, get up! Santa Hooves came! Did you see him?”
“Murgh,” I replied, cracking an eye open.
“And he brought me some presents!” she added.
I got hit with a furry missile mid-yawn. Pinch had wrapped her hooves around my neck and was hugging me tightly. “He brought me some Pastel Unicorn dolls and a Coltz II Stallions record and a scarf and some boots and a box of chocolates and a playhouse for my dolls and a sweater and a new ball and a book of tricks I can do with magic, and he brought you some new boots and a gift card to the spa.”
“Wait, what?” I opened my eyes and took in the sight of carnage—all my carefully-applied wrappings were littered about the floor, reduced to shreds by the cute little ball of hyperactive energy who was bouncing on the couch. Where I'd apparently slept.
She hopped away and eagerly began playing with her dolls—the new ones she'd gotten had been joined by her older ones, and they were moving around a litter of chocolate wrappers.
“Did you eat all the candy already?”
“No, just a couple pieces.”
“A couple?”
“Half the box,” she said, hanging her head. “I'm sorry.”
“It's okay.” I ran my hoof over her mane. “Some families wait until everypony is up to open their Hearth's Warming Gifts, you know.”
“But . . . “ her lower lip quivered. “You were sound asleep, and I was very quiet so I wouldn't wake you.”
“It's okay,” I told her again. “A good little filly ought to be able to do what she wants on Hearth's Warming.” I saw an unfamiliar box and envelope that were mangled almost beyond recognition. “What are those?”
“Um . . .” she looked up from her dolls. “Well, Santa Hooves brought them for you, but he normally doesn't bring you anything so I though they were for me, and I opened them. Oh! I almost forgot!” She bolted up the stairs while I went over and examined the boxes. The boots were from dad—it was nice of him to remember that I needed a new pair. He'd gotten the ones for Pinch, too. Nothing from Cormano for me or her, which wasn't a surprise. I wondered if he even remembered he had a daughter. As for the gift card to the spa—I had no idea; maybe the rest of the girls had pooled together and gotten it for me. It would have been just like Derpy to sneak it into my house last night; that mare loved playing Santa Hooves. I was going to enjoy it after some market day; I could almost feel the relaxing waters of the hot tub.
Pinch came bounding back down the stairs, almost tripping over her own hooves, and proudly gave me a small box. It held a simple picture frame, clumsily made by the hooves of a filly, but it framed a picture of me and Pinch sitting in the park together.
“Where did you get that photo?” I asked.
“Featherweight took it when he was taking pictures for the Foal Free Press” she said. “DT didn't want it for the paper, 'cause we looked too happy.” She sighed. “There aren't any photos in the house of you and me together, and I thought there oughtta be. Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I said softly, pulling her close. “Have I ever told you that you're the most wonderful filly in all of Equestria?”
“It's 'cause I've got the very best mommy,” she said, wrapping her hooves around my neck.
Author's Note
Author's note--click here for blog post!
