Tales from the Froggy Bottom

So you young ens’ want to hear the story of Pearfield Grove?  It ain’t a happy story, but I reckon yer old enough...

Sit your rumps down and listen to what I’m about to tell ya.  Most ponies don’t remember the Pearfield clan.  Those that know the name at all seem to think it’s all about some old feud that never was as big a to-do as some ponies made it out to be.

Elder Pearfield… I suppose he was “Younger Pearfield” back then, but I’ve called ‘im “Elder” for more years than I’ve called ‘im “Younger”, it’s what happens when you get this old; but anyhow Younger Pearfield owned a pear farm over by Carver’s Creek.  He was a round stout pony, light Green in coat, with a darker green mane and tail.  All told, he very much resembled the fruits that filled his orchard and adorned his flank.  He was friendly enough, at least he was back then.

Now some some ponies called him crazy to set up an orchard that close to the Froggy Bottom.  And it is a fearsome place.  There’s thing that crawl, and things that fly, and things that creep around on ground.  And then there’s the things that lurk in the deep pools.  But Pearfield insisted that spot had the perfect soil for his trees.  And sure enough, within five years, he had himself an orchard to rival Sweet Apple Acres.

Now this is where most folks get confused.  They seem to think we was feudin’ with the Pearfields on account of them growin’ pears and us growin’ apples…  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Like apples, pears are good for two things, food and booze.  As far as food goes, his farm could never rival Sweet Apple Acres.  Sure some ponies like pears better than apples, but not many.  When came to booze though, Pearfield had some tricks up his sleeves.  Heh, ya see, his momma was a fancy unicorn engineer back in Canterlot, and Ol’ Pearfield knew a thing or two himself.  He actually built himself a moonshine still.  Pear mash moonshine, I tell ya what!  It may not have tasted as good as our cider, but wooo-eeee did it do the job!  And we didn’t begrudge ‘im his success, don’t get me wrong.  In fact my aunt, Apple Cobbler, had her sights on marrying the pudgy stallion. If she had acted quicker this might be a happier story.

His success soon attracted a burgundy whorse of a gold-digger by the name of Brandy Wine.  She threw her affections openly at Pearfield and easily swept aside my shy Auntie.  They were married in the spring and her clearly with foal.  She gave birth to triplets eleven months later.

Hard Cider was the first born.  Doctor said the foal didn’t even cry when she slapped his flank, he just took in a quiet breath and gave the doctor a killin’ look.  He was dark golden in coat and main, and had a rough, almost feral look about him, even freshly born into the world.  He would grow into a monster of a stallion.

Pear Cider was his father’s spittin image in flesh, and his mother’s vicious scion in the soul.  He was fat, lazy, scheming, and mischievous.  He was a fat bully as a foal, and he was a heartless thug as a stallion.

Cider Vinegar was a quiet, brooding,  and sulky thing from the cradle to the grave.  He had a milky yellow coat, and a dull grey mane.  His eyes was a pale, cold shade of blue.  There was no limit to how far he would go to get back at ponies he was envious of, and Cider Vinegar was envious of everypony.

Brandy Wine left less than a two years after the foals was born with a red-headed unicorn gambler from Canterlot.  Not before she took all Pearfield’s money out the bank, of course.  I heard he was kilt dead in Dodge City some time later after getting caught cheating at a game of cards.  Left poor old Brandy a penniless widow with twin colts.  You, reap what you sow a suppose…

It took ten years to pull the Pearfield Orchard back from the brink.  Younger Pearfield had become Elder Pearfield, doting father to his three trouble-makin’ sons.  The colts for their part could not be growing into worse ponies.  They spit out their father's love like it was poison and delighted in all sorts of destructive mayhem.  Every time they got in trouble, Elder Pearfield was always there to get them right back out.  He just couldn’t bring himself to see the evil that was festering in his son’s hearts.

Despite these troubles, prosperity slowly came back to the farm, and one day in the spring, we was all surprised to hear that Elder Pearfield  had proposed marriage to Aunt Apple Cobbler.  She said yes of course, and they was married that summer.

By this time the Pearfield boys, as they was known back then, was out of the house, and had nothing to do with their father or the farm unless one ‘em had got arrested after a night of drunken debauchery and needed bail, or some such.  And it seemed that finally there would be happiness at Pearfield Orchard.  It wouldn’t last.

The following spring, Aunt Cobbler became heavy with foal.  At her age, and back in them days, this was a very hazardous thing to happen to a mare.  Still they were happy, and eagerly awaited the birth of their new foal.  The doctor, a lavender unicorn mare whose name I cain’t never remember, came often to check on Aunt Cobbler and the foal inside her.  She cast some kind of spell that told  her they was gonna have a little filly, a unicorn.  They decided to name her Pear Dumpling and happily waited to welcome their new daughter into the world.

The winter that year was the harshest in my memory,  a wild cold front had descended on our town from the Everfree, and it felt like the wendigos themselves was upon us.  Aunt Cobbler took on a bad fever over Hearth’s Warming.  The Doctor did all she could, but Aunt Cobbler needed a hospital, but she was too weak to travel, and the nearest hospital back then was in Canterlot.

She never really did recover.  She survived long enough to see her daughter into the world, but it was over after that.  She had poured all her life and all her love into just keeping her foal alive long enough to let her see the world.  She passed peacefully after that with her foal in her hooves and a smile on her face.

So, once again Elder Pearfield was a father and now a widower.  This time, however he had a foal who could appreciate and grow from his kindness.  True to her Apple roots, Pear Dumpling was a natural farm pony.  She grew into a pretty little filly with her father’s coat and her mother’s blonde mane.  By the time she got her cutie mark, a pear tree, of course, her father was widely bragging on his little filly and how one day she was gonna take over the farm for him,

When Cider Vinegar heard of this, he was fit to be tied.  Why should she get everything, when he was livin’ in the bottom of a bottle?  Him and his brothers was the first born after all!  He gathered his brothers and they went to confront the old stallion and their upstart sister.

Pearfield was appalled that his sons would accuse him of abandoning them.  They were always welcome in his home and back on the farm.  He truly and deeply wished his errant sons would return home and settle down.  He wanted nothing but the best for his family.  Pear Dumpling WAS the only pony who could really run the farm when he was gone however.  He was not placing her above his firstborn, he was making a practical business to decision to keep his family well taken care of after he was gone.

Little Dumpling was confused.  She loved her brothers.  Her daddy loved her brothers.  She didn’t understand why her brothers were saying such mean things.  Even after she was running the farm, she would still love her brothers.  She wasn’t going to take the farm away from them.  But daddy was getting old, and somebody had to take care of the pear trees, and make the mash, and run the still.  She didn’t mean to make her brothers mad.  She was sorry they thought she was taking the farm away.

The three brothers would have none of it. They spit in their father’s face.  Cider Vinegar even made a clumsy kick at Pear Dumpling, bruising her shoulder a little and sending the filly running from the room in tears.  For the first time in over twenty years Elder Pearfield finally put his hoof down, ordering his sons from his home.  Hard Cider gruffed up for a moment like he might strike the old man, but then thought better of it and slunk out of the house like a rattlesnake.  If only it had ended like that...