A Nightingale's Song

The golden sun shined down brightly upon the viridian grass, rays of sunlight casting a luminescent glow upon Nightingale Shade’s face as he looked up. It was early morning and the hills were topped with cool dew drops. Yet, the serene weather of Ponyville seemed not to care, warmth and pleasantness abound despite the day’s youth. It was a far cry from what Nightingale was used to elsewhere in the world but it only affirmed his belief that Equestria was different from all the other countries.

Most likely, he’d determined, because of Princess Celestia’s close proximity—she did, after all, control the sun, despite whatever the ponies of the far west thought.

Smiling slightly, Nightingale Shade shelved his thoughts, trotting with a simple air of slight joviality. He had woken up not thirty minutes before and, after a quick wash, had begun the short journey to Sweet Apple Acres to begin his first day of work on the farm. Hopefully, all things would go well, considering his relative inexperience.

Within moments, the large farm came into view, its rolling hills, fields, and orchards rife with fruit and harvest. Nightingale nodded to himself, catching sight of Applejack and her brother Big Macintosh near the barn. They looked to be waiting for him, having not begun their work yet. Not wanting to delay them further, Nightingale spread his wings and took off, flying with a sense of ease towards the barn.

He landed softly, jogging towards the two siblings. Nightingale waved a hoof as he approached, the two earth ponies turning to meet him.

“Nice to see you made it, sugarcube,” Applejack said, smiling at Nightingale. “Big Mac and I were just about ready to start without ya. You feelin’ okay?”

Nightingale nodded before responding. “Yeah, I’m alright. Sorry I’m a bit late. I misjudged the time to get here. Are we good to go?”

“Well, we gotta show you the ropes first, Nightingale. Can’t letcha go around harvestin’ our apples without knowing what to do first, heh heh.” Applejack chuckled.

“Alright, I guess you’re right. What have you got to teach?” Nightingale replied lightly, looking at the arrayed equipment that the siblings possessed.

“For starters, Big Mac and I are gonna buck the apples out of their trees. Usually, it’d be me who does the bucking and Big Mac who takes the apples back in the buckets,” she lectured, looking back at her brother. “But since he’s on buckin’ duty now, you’ll be the pony to carry the apples back. That fine with you, sugarcube?”

Nightingale considered this before nodding affirmatively. “Sure, that’d be okay. That all I’m doing?”

Applejack nodded, signaling her confirmation. “Yeah, for now at least. Don’t wanna pile too much on you on your first day.” Her face grew stern before she continued. “But that don’t mean you can slack off, Nightingale. We’ll need all hooves on deck for our harvest.”

“Yep,” Nightingale said. Hard work had always been something he had valued—Nightingale was not one for curtailing his efforts. “You can count on me, Applejack.”

“Good.” Applejack turned, heading towards the orchard. “C’mon, ya’ll. I reckon we’ve got a lot of work t’do, so let’s get to it.” Big Mac immediately began to follow her, Nightingale hot on their hooves as they set on beginning their work day.

With a low grunt, Nightingale stopped the bushel-laden cart, stopping briefly to observe his handiwork. He wiped his forehead with a hoof, sweat dripping down his head as his wet and matted mane stuck to his face.

So far, he had brought at least four dozen bushels of apples, full of a variety of red, green, and yellow fruits, ripe and ready. Arrayed in front of the barn, they looked like colorful jewels, and Nightingale could not stop his mouth from watering at the sight of the delicious produce.

“Whoowee, that’s a lot of apples there!” Nightingale shifted his head as best he could, seeing Applejack and Big Mac approaching from behind.

“Is this an average workload for you guys?” Nightingale asked, his mouth frowning as he looked at Big Mac. If it was, how exactly did they do this every day? Or was every day even a harvest day like this one? Maybe it was because their earth pony strength granted them greater endurance and strength than others.

“Nnnope,” Big Mac responded, his deep voice somewhat unusual to hear. “Usually less.”

Applejack rolled her eyes, at this point rather used to Big Mac’s laconic speech. “We usually don’t get this much done, sugarcube, but with you here, we were able to harvest these here apples more than a mite faster.” She whooped, her mouth set with a wide smile. “In fact, I reckon that harvest season’ll be over before it usually is!”

Nightingale chuckled in response, before realizing the consequences of what Applejack implied. If the apple harvest was done faster then, reasonably, he wouldn’t have a job sooner than later. ‘Celestia dammit,’ he thought, frowning slightly.

Applejack continued not long after, walking towards a wooden picnic table nearby with Big Mac. “Well, I reckon that’s enough work for now, boys. Nightingale, you can take that harness and cart off your shoulders, and get some rest,” she said. “I reckon Granny Smith will be out here soon with some fritters for us to munch on, so take a breather.”

Nightingale nodded, panting slightly as he released the harness that attached him to the cart, retrieving his saddlebags from the barn. Having done so, he walked over to the picnic table, plopping down into a seat. “You guys definitely aren’t the lazy sort, Applejack. Probably why your apples are all so good.”

The earth pony laughed, her mouth curling into a slight grin. “Well, it just wouldn’t be in our nature to, sugarcube. Sorry if we worked you too hard, Nightingale.”

In response, the grey pegasus shook his head, dismissing her words. “Nah, it’s fine. I always appreciate some hard labor. Though, I might need to take it a little bit slower next time.” He ended his words with a slight chuckle.

The next few minutes were sat through in silence, the three ponies simply catching their breath as they rested. Granny Smith had come through, promptly delivering several platters loaded with apple fritters and other sweets, her eye briefly stopping on Nightingale before she left. Nightingale, and the others, had dug in gratefully, satisfying their growing hunger.

Soon after, Big Mac had left Applejack and Nightingale, uttering a short “nap” as an explanation when Nightingale questioned him. Nodding, Nightingale looked at Applejack, his eyebrow raised. “Is he always so quiet?”

Applejack chuckled, her eyes stopping on Nightingale. “Ah, don’t worry ‘bout him, sugarcube. Talking just ain’t in his nature.”

Nightingale stared at her dubiously before he shook his head, his mouth curling into a small smirk. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Applejack. I actually appreciate the quiet.” He looked away, gazing at the sun and noticing that it had reached a high point in the sky. “Not often you meet another pony that recognizes the joy of peace and silence.”

Applejack didn’t respond, Nightingale tuning out the sounds of chewing behind him. He watched the sun for a few moments, feeling the cool autumn breeze blowing against his face. A question came to him then and he turned around to face his companion.

“Hey, Applejack. Can I ask you a question?” Nightingale asked, watching as the pony in question looked up with an eyebrow raised.

“Sure, sugarcube. Whaddya need?”

He hesitated for a moment, looking away with a frown on his face. “Who exactly paid for my hospital bill? You and all of your friends?”

Applejack’s eyebrow raised even higher, her questioning look obvious. “Uh, yeah. Me and all my friends. Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and I all pooled some bits together to pay. Why?”

Nightingale didn’t answer at first, his frown deepening. After a few seconds he looked back at Applejack. “I’m just wondering why. None of you really know me—I just got to this town. Are you guys all just naturally generous?”

Applejack chuckled, as if she had heard an inside joke. “Well, Rarity is the one that pitched the idea. I don’t rightly know what’s goin’ on in that noggin’ of yours, Nightingale, but you’re our friend. Friends do nice things for each other, right?”

Nightingale, however, did not respond as Applejack thought he would, looking Applejack straight in the eyes with a serious visage. “Applejack, I think it’s going too far to call me your friend at this point. I barely know any of you—the only ponies I’ve really had a conversation with are you and Twilight. The rest of you, I haven’t even said a word to.” He looked away for a moment before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to be friends with all of you, but don’t you think it’s a little soon to be calling me a friend?”

It was Nightingale’s turn to be confused this time as Applejack burst into laughter. His eyebrow raised high as his mouth opened slightly. By the time the orange country pony had regained her composure, he looked rather ridiculous.

“Oh, don’t ever let Pinkie Pie hear you say that, sugarcube,” Applejack said, clutching her chest with a hoof. “I reckon she’s friends with everypony in town, whether they like it or not.” Her gaze turned contemplative as she looked away slightly. “I do wonder why she hasn’t visited you yet. She should have thrown you a party by now.”

Nightingale’s frown returned with force upon the mention of the pink party pony, dread threatening to fill him. “I’d rather she didn’t throw me a party, to be honest.” His ears pricked out as he became alert, as if Pinkie Pie could pop out and begin a party at the drop of a hat. “No offense, Applejack, but she unnerves me. And I’ve only really met her once.”

“Yep, she takes some getting’ used to, for sure,” Applejack responded, chuckling lowly. “Though, there really is no saying no to that mare.” She turned towards Nightingale, ready with another question. “Why don’t you want a party, anyways? It’s a good way to meet new ponies and have some fun.”

Nightingale shook his head, waving his hoof dismissively. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Just a personal thing.”

The next few moments continued in silence, Nightingale watching the leaves nearby flutter in the wind, some of them falling from their hosts. Yellow, red, and orange had started to gather on the ground, outlining a thin sheet of dead forestry. Suddenly, Applejack stood up, Nightingale turning around to notice that she had pulled a small pouch out of seemingly nowhere.

“Well, Nightingale, it’s been a good day of work, but we’re mostly done here. Just some organizin’ and movin’ needed to be done. Here’s your payment.” She handed Nightingale the pouch, the sound of coins clinking inside catching Nightingale’s attention.

Nightingale looked at the bag for a few moments, a small smile on his face, before he put it aside and looked up at Applejack. “Thanks, Applejack. I’ll be off now, so have a good day.” He stood up to leave, before Applejack’s question stopped him.

“By the way, sugarcube. Nightingale’s a bit of a mouthful, dontcha think? Mind if I call you somethin’ short? Like Gale, or somethin’?” She asked. Nightingale contemplated the offer for a moment, before shrugging.

“Doesn’t bother me. Call me what you will.”

Applejack smiled and nodded, waving the pegasus off. “Well, then you’d best be off, Gale. I’ll see you early tomorrow.”

Nightingale waved back, before beginning his trek back home. He determined that he would rest at his makeshift camp for a little while. Afterwards, he would decide what to do next. Maybe a purchase of some regular provisions were in order? It didn’t feel right for him to continuously mooch off of the Apple family for the time being.

There was also the matter of actually building a home. He didn’t have the money for an actual apartment or room in the town, but he could possibly purchase a set of tools and begin building a small, temporary abode—Celestia knew that he needed some shelter, for he had recognized, earlier, the pegasus preparing for inclement weather in the near future.

Once again, he passed by the cottage on the hill, birds fluttering about as he trotted by. Nightingale hummed a low tune as he walked, his subconscious taking over as he made his way home. When he reached his camp, however, he found that it was not empty—a somewhat familiar yellow pegasus stood nearby, examining the area.

Inching closer silently, Nightingale recognized the pony—Fluttershy, if he remembered correctly. One of Applejack’s friends.

‘What is she doing here?’ he thought.

Stopping behind her, Nightingale affirmed that she had not noticed him yet. He hesitated for a moment, before speaking.

“Uh, excuse me?”

Nightingale jumped back in alarm as the pegasus shrieked, her wings flaring out in what he recognized as shock as she took flight. Fluttershy turned around, alert and distressed, before noticing Nightingale. The two pegasi remained in silence for a few moments, staring at each other before Fluttershy landed softly, her mane hiding her face. Nightingale cleared his throat, his heart just beginning to slow down, when he spoke again.

“Uh, sorry for scaring you. Fluttershy, right?” He attempted to look friendly, a small smile appearing on his face as Fluttershy made to respond.

“Um… yes… hello…” she all but whispered, Nightingale having somehow heard her. The two ponies again regressed into silence, neither really knowing what to say. After a few seconds, Nightingale opened his mouth to speak.

“So, uh, did you need something? I just noticed you here and wondered what you were up to.”

Fluttershy slowly backed up, her face wrought with nervousness. “Well, um… my animal friends brought me here when I…” the buttercup pegasus trailed off, all but mumbling her last words.

“So you live around here?” Nightingale asked. He needed to get her away from his camp—Nightingale didn’t want the others to know about his homelessness.

“Oh, um… yes… I live in that cottage.” Nightingale looked to where she was pointing, seeing the cottage that he passed by every day.

‘Damn,’ he thought. It was likely that he would have to move his campsite now.

“Ah, okay. Lovely voice, by the way—I heard you singing a couple of days ago.” He said, trying to move the conversation along. Fluttershy, however, reacted with nervousness, hiding even further behind her mane as if embarrassed.

“Th—thank you,” she said after a moment, backing away. “I’ll be going now… goodbye.” At that, the yellow pegasus took off, flying back towards the cottage. Nightingale frowned, watching as she left, before turning back to his camp.

“What a shy mare,” he muttered, sitting down lightly on the grass. Setting those thoughts aside for the moment, Nightingale remembered Applejack’s payment and took the pouch of bits out of his saddlebags. He opened it before turning it upside-down, the coins jangling as they fell out.

‘Two, four, six, eight, fourteen, twenty-eight,’ he counted, arraying the bits in front of him. “Thirty-six bits,” Nightingale finished, smiling lightly. “Wonder how much that really is. Seems like a lot.” Shrugging to himself, Nightingale returned the pouch of bits to his saddlebags, gathering his things together. ‘Might have to move closer to the forest—don’t want Fluttershy telling her friends I live here.’ He thought, standing up and making his way towards the forest.

Nightingale walked out of the marketplace with a content smile on his face, carrying a bag full of produce. His pouch of bits had somewhat shrunk in size and weight, but he was satisfied with his own bartering abilities. It might not have been as great as the agrarians to the west, but it was still enough to get him what he needed without going broke.

After having found a more suitable location for his temporary home, Nightingale had returned to Ponyville, making his way towards the marketplace. Once there, he had, after a bit of listening in, had determined what seemed to be the worth of the bits, and purchased the provisions he thought he needed. Fruits, vegetables, bread, eggs, and others were among the top of the list.

Now, he was making his way out of Ponyville again when a certain storefront caught his eye. Turning around to gaze fully at the shop, Nightingale took in the patches and outlines in the glass window. Treble and bass clefs took the front, adorned and kept company by an array of musical notes and symbols. Nightingale’s mouth opened slightly as he walked closer, curious as to what the shop held within.

A small bell rang as Nightingale pushed open the door, the smell of polished wood and resin filling his nostrils. A smile crept upon his face, his eyes widening as they took in the various objects displayed across the store. Trumpets, violoncellos, trombones, violins, flutes, all of the normal sort—even a cornet, and—was that a bagpipe?

“Hello, and welcome to the Brass Horn! What can I do for you?” An elderly male voice called from Nightingale’s front, but the pegasus ignored it, his hooves running across a beautifully polished grand piano, its ivory keys smooth and firm to the touch. Nightingale turned around, eyeing a particular saxophone as a soft glow emitted from its golden brass curves.

“Um, I know my stock is nice to look at and all, but are you looking to purchase something, sir?” the voice came once more, and Nightingale looked at the source, noticing a somewhat old unicorn, a pair of glasses upon his face. His coat was a soft blue, and his mane was colored a light chocolatey-brown. Nightingale coughed, walking up to the stallion.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Was just admiring your stuff.” He looked behind the salespony, gazing at a violin that had caught his eyes, before extending a hoof. “My name’s Nightingale Shade. I, uh, like music.”

The elderly unicorn chuckled, shaking Nightingale’s hoof. “Ah, yes, I could tell that much by your cutie mark. Very similar to that of another one of Ponyville’s residents.” He smiled at Nightingale before continuing. “My name is Garnet Tremolo, and this here is my music shop. As you can see, I’ve got nearly every instrument in the world in my stock.”

“Every instrument?” Nightingale questioned almost incredulous, an eyebrow raised. Why a pony that possessed almost every instrument in the world had set up shop in Ponyville of all places was anypony’s guess. In turn, Garnet Tremolo chuckled once more, shaking his head.

“Oh, no, that was just a sales pitch,” he responded, looking around his own shop. “In reality, I’ve got instruments from all over the known world, but not every instrument ever created.” Tremolo turned his head, his glasses pitching slightly as he gave Nightingale a knowing look. “That’d be rather impossible, after all.”

Nightingale nodded with a smile, walking over to a locked display case. Inside was a rather familiar instrument, Nightingale’s eyes widening as he took in the G-shaped brass figure, its end swelling in size from the tapered innards. “If you don’t mind, where did you get this one?”

Garnet Tremolo looked over, before responding light-heartily. “Ah, yes that one. I got that piece off of a traveling merchant, said he’d been all over the world. That, my boy, is a Roaman Cornu. Something their legions use for organization and marching, if I recall correctly.

Nightingale nodded before turning back around. “Well, all of your instruments are nice and all, but I don’t think I have the money to purchase one right now, unfortunately.” He frowned, his head dipping in regret. “Been a long time since I owned one, in fact.”

Tremolo, however, raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Nightingale to come close.

“So tell me, Mister Shade, how much do you love music?”

Nightingale looked up at the elderly unicorn, walking closer. “A lot. It’s been with me my whole life, and I know my father loved it too.” He turned around to grasp at his saddlebags, pulling out his father’s notebook and opening it to show the various pieces of music. “He had a lot of his own works that he composed himself. I haven’t written any of my own, but I have arranged many that I’ve heard over the years.”

Garnet Tremolo looked over the arrayed sheets of paper, flipping through the pages. After a moment, he looked back up at Nightingale, a smile upon his face. “And, Mister Shade, do you know how to play any instruments yourself?”

“Yeah, I do. I can play a lot of ‘em—trumpet, cello, piano, horns, woodwinds—a whole bunch. Favorite has got to be the violin, though. First one I learned how to play.”

Tremolo chuckled lightly, staring Nightingale straight in the eye. “And how dedicated are you to music? A bit of a stupid question, so forgive me but I’d like to be sure.”

Nightingale raised an eyebrow, unsure of where Garnet Tremolo was heading with this information. “Uh, pretty dedicated, if you ask me. Why? You’re not gonna just hand me one of your violins or something, are ya?”

Garnet Tremolo only smirked in response, before gesturing for Nightingale Shade to wait for a moment. The blue unicorn left the storefront, making his way out of sight. After a few moments he returned, a green case let aloft by the soft glow of magic.

“I noticed your gaze on that violin up there, Mister Shade.” Garnet Tremolo pointed up to the violin that had caught Nightingale’s eye earlier, before looking back at Nightingale. “Now, I can’t give you that particular one—it’s simply too expensive. But, I can give you this violin here.”

He opened the case, revealing the instrument inside. A full-sized violin lay within, its glossed shell marked by scars and scratches, and its strings broken and bent. The bow, however, was in better condition, its hairs soft and smooth. Nightingale’s mouth gaped, though he was disappointed in its condition.

“You’re just giving this to me?” Nightingale asked incredulously, his eyes wandering over the instrument.

Garnet Tremolo nodded his head, placing another bag atop the table. “I know it’s in pretty poor condition, but this is all I can spare, for now. I can give you the materials and things you need to repair it—it’ll just be on you to bring it back to a usable condition.”

Nightingale smiled slightly, picking up the bow in his hooves. After a moment, he turned back to Tremolo, an eyebrow raised in doubt. “And I suppose there’s a condition? Ponies don’t usually give things out for free like this.”

Garnet frowned slightly, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t know where you might have gotten that sort of skepticism from, Mister Shade, but you are correct in that there is something that I would like in return?”

“What do you need, then?”

Garnet Tremolo smiled, closing his eyes briefly. “Only that you play to your heart’s content, and love music as much as you already have, Mister Shade. Maybe, one day, you can come back to me, with whatever bits you may have acquired by then, and purchase that other violin up on the wall,” he said. “But, for now…” Garnet gestured towards the violin, nodding towards Nightingale. “A musician should not be without his tools. Take the violin for free and have a good day, Mister Shade.”

Nightingale’s mouth gaped for a moment as he closed the case and picked it up, but he smiled back at the elderly unicorn, waving a hoof as he left. “Thank you, Mister Tremolo. I really appreciate it.”

The bell rang once more as Nightingale walked out of the music store, a wide smile upon his face as he walked out of Ponyville. For the first time in a long while, he was truly content and happy—repairs and maintenance on the violin would be the first thing on his list of things to do once he got back “home.”