Next time he was going to bring an artillery sousaphone...
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On the Historical Significance of Battle Lederhosen
Next time he was going to bring an artillery sousaphone...
“'Course the Apple Family's the best at history presentations! We either lived through or caused most of it!”
“Right,” Sweetie Belle said slowly, unpolishing the sterling silver pocket watch on her desk to a gleam, because she was up right after Applebloom and the shininess made it look too unhistorical. “And nopony's arguing with you on that. But I think when Ms Cheerilee said to do show and tell, we were meant to do the showing and the telling.”
Applebloom, having had her prop sort itself out for the most part, only had a box of applejuice on her own desk. She was enjoying it greatly. “Ain't my fault I happen to have a livin' piece of history to work with. Ah reckon y'all just jealous.”
Scootaloo stared at the front of the classroom. Both her friends were sitting in front of her, not paying her any attention, so she was free to stare in morbid fascination at Applebloom's Uncle Apple Strudel as he was murmuring with Cheerilee, and the way his weirdly angular bright-white beard bristled with every word was kinda hypnotic. It was like watching somepony flick a paintbrush dry, but in reverse and with their face. Exactly like that.
Also, his eyes just didn't quite seem to line up, and it was quite possible the hump in his back reached all the way up to the bottom of his ears.
“Yep.” Scootaloo finally exhaled. “Totally jealous.”
Sweetie watched raptly as the feather in Strudel's hat as it bobbed up and down. It was tattered and faded, but it didn't seem like it ever matched either his fur or his clothes. Or did ponies just not know what to do before fashion magazines printed in colour? “How's he your uncle, anyway?”
“Genetics!” Applebloom answered proudly, taking a loud slurp of her juice to punctuate the point.
“No, I mean,” Sweetie forced her eyes shut for a moment, trying to force her train of thought back, “How are you related?”
Another wise and satisfied nod. “By blood, I reckon.”
Sweetie Belle was stopped by a hoof touching her shoulder from behind. Scootaloo shook her head. “I think Sweetie's trying to ask if they're from your mum or your dad's side of the family.”
“Oh.” That got a few moments of reflective silence out of her at least. For a moment, all three stared at Uncle Apple Strudel as he held Cheerilee conversationally hostage. “Honestly? Don't rightly know. Never came up.”
Sweetie again. “Really? You'd have thought something like that would, eventually.”
This was met by an emphatic shrug from Applebloom. “Honestly? Applejack says we've got a, whatchacallit, Olympic size gene pool, so it helps keep things easier if I just take it for granted everypony older than me's an aunt or uncle, and everypony my age or younger is a cousin. I could tell you, f'r instance, Babs is on Aunt and Uncle Orange's side of the family, but I ain't got a clue whether that side's left or east or nothin'.”
“Well, can't argue with that logic.” Scootaloo said, as much as in thought as out loud.
Sweetie, being able to do logic at a sixth grade level, was able to, though, and did. “Wouldn't you have to know who's who to organize family reunions, though? You have them all the time, somepony has to be figuring those out.”
“What?” Applebloom choked on her juicebox in genuine surprise. “Family reunions are organized? I thought they were a game the old ponies played with each other, like tag, but with chain letters, and conspirin’. It's the only thing that makes sense.”
Sweetie Belle was stumped. This was a highschool level rebuttal. Scootaloo gave her a 'nice try' pat on the back for her efforts as the stumped filly slumped at her desk a little.
Honestly, they'd just been killing time until the fossil with the Apple family insignia at the front had sorted himself out. He had been 'faffing about' since the foals first started coming in from recess, and Uncle Apple Strudel was only just now cricking and cracking his weary joints up to the front of the blackboard, noisily clearing his throat. The sound was almost indescribable.
“It's like hearing someone slamming a coffin at the other side of a catacomb,” Diamond Tiara stated simply. Apparently the other students noted, rich ponies have far deeper wells of experience to draw from in such matters.
“Somepony should just put him out of our misery,” Silver Spoon agreed.
Scootaloo snorted. “How'd that work out for you both when it was Granny Smith up there? Or are you so quick to forget?”
Silver Spoon scoffed, then scoffed again, because a single scoff just couldn't quite cut the proverbial mustard. “I'll have you know that my project is far, far greater than anything this museum exhibit could possibly say before he's due for cataloguing.”
She held out a beautiful, intricate silver pocket watch.
“You see, this watch was hoof crafted two hundred years ago by my ancestor-”
Sweetie gasped. “Silver Bells?”
“Yes! The one and the same, and she-”
Sweetie held up her own scuffed version of the same watch. “It's just like mine! That's so cool! Mine looks more historical than yours though…”
“Well. Yes. But mine is far more magnificent, so I'm sure to get the better marks.”
Applebloom aimed, aimed, tossed her empy juice box, bouncing it off the wall and swishing it straight into the bin next to Cheerilee's desk. Score! “Ain't you worried it'll just look like you copied off Sweetie? Reckon she'll mark you down for being a copycat, and that's iffin' she doesn't just flat out fail you for plagiarism.”
Silver Spoon snorted. “Oh?”
Scootaloo twisted in her seat to just look Silver down levelly. “You're kidding, right? This is basic flunky science one oh one. Sweetie's going second. You're going second last, because you and Diamond there wanted to be dramatic. And your watch looks brand new.”
“Right. Because it's so magnificently well maintained.”
“Right. Sure.” Scootaloo nodded easily. “But you tell me that doesn't just sound like an excuse some foal did when they cheated off a kid who did well before them in the lineup? I mean, it's what I'd say. And then you probably have, like, the same report on top of that.”
Silver remained silent.
Diamond Tiara snorted. “Don't worry, Silver. You can just go up with me. I had nothing anyway, I was just going to make up a bunch of horseapples about how what we live in now is the future for some other ponies, and we're the ones who make it, so anything we touch is history, and then--”
“Oh, man, that's a super great idea!” Scootaloo interjected, rifling through her desk for a pile of dogeared notes. “Here's a first draft of my speech. I'm going up after Sweetie.”
Diamond Tiara got as far as reading the title before letting out a small, despondent, and incredibly wealthy sounding wail. “History is relative…?”
“Nah!” Applebloom smiled, bouncing out of her chair. “Close, though. History's relatives. Reckon I'll show y'all, then. So!” She bounded up to the front of the classroom, tugging on Uncle Strudel's tail a little. He pulled away from Cheerilee, who let out a little sigh of relief that was probably coincidental.
“Hrm? Wahz ist das?”
“It's time for our presentation, Uncle Strudel?”
The faded brown fur ruffled itself as Uncle Strudel turned to face the class, smiling warmly. “So, young'in, what'd you want this old pile of bones to wheeze about?”
“Battle lederhosen.” Applebloom chirped. “You always tell the best stories about-”
“Oh!” Uncle Strudel's eyes narrowed, his posture improving significantly. The hump in his back shifted up, lifting his shoulders up. There was a dangerous look to him. “Are you sure? It's not always a topic best suited for young ears, child.”
Big watery puppy dog eyes, just like Sweetie Belle had taught her. “Please?”
“Well. I suppose you children ought to know your history.” The old stallion, huffed, his chest swelling with air. A hoof slammed into the floor, and everypony but Applebloom jumped. Even Ms Cheerilee rocked a little in shock. “Who here has heard of the wunderbahg garment that is the battle lederhosen, hmm?” He asked, rising inflection drifting those 'm's ever upward. The class was silent.
“Nein? None of you? Bah! Equestria was saved and held on the battle lederhosen! You would all be speaking Griffon if it weren't for the battle lederhosen! Yes, you, little white child.”
Sweetie Belle put her hoof back down. “Don't the griffons speak the same language as us, though?”
“Yes!” Uncle Strudel's chest swelled with pride. “This is the legacy of the battle lederhosen, ja?”
“That doesn't make any sense.” Diamond Tiara sniffed, “It's the same language, isn't it? So what difference does it make if we're speaking their language or if they're speaking our language?”
In a flash, a fiery eyed Uncle Strudel slammed his hoof down on Diamond Tiara's desk. Nopony was quite sure he had even taken a step, he was just at the front of the classroom and then he wasn't. Diamond Tiara tried her best to look unimpressed, she really did.
Uncle Strudel growled in a low, clear voice; “Do you dare disrespect the legacy of the brave ponies who wore the battle lederhosen for your country's freedoms, little girl?”
Diamond Tiara's facade remained admirably intact. “I'm just saying, I've never even heard of a… a battle lederhosen.”
Uncle Strudel gasped! He swooned! All the fire was sucked out of him, replaced with a cold woe. “Is not disrespect, then, nein? Is uninformed little pony! Of course, of course!” A very firm nodding, then a tactical withdrawal back to the front of the classroom. Applebloom stuck her tongue out at Diamond Tiara and wiggled it a bit.
“It all begins several hundred years ago. The mountain village of Bavariable, yes, was under siege from a powerful enemy since lost to time...”
“I'm sorry, but how could you just forget the enemy? Were they big? Small? Furry? Pointy teeth?” Silver Spoon interjected.
“Bah!” Strudel spat. Fortunately Cheerilee took a step back in time to not get her hooves soggy, Uncle Strudel was sure she didn't mind. “Bah!” Strudel said again. “Enemy is unimportant. Important at time, yes, but was vanquished righteous-fully!”
Applebloom nodded along emphatically. Sweetie was starting to get a little confused herself though.
“So because you beat them, you just… forgot?”
Uncle Strudel snorted again, chuckled a deep laugh right in the center of his chest. “Little pony, This was hundreds of years ago. How many enemies has your sisters vanquished in last three? Five? Discord, Changelings, Tirek, all the rest I am forgetting. Only the bards would remembered.”
Scootaloo gasped a breath in. “But I remember everything Rainbow Dash has done! Maybe my destiny is to chronicle her legacy so she isn't forgotten like-” she looked down at her garish shield cutie mark. “Oh, right. Nevermind.”
“Am I being allowed to continue now?” Uncle Strudel asked with an amused upwards inflection. Silence. “Good. Well, enemies come and go, yes, but the battle lederhosen endured! We did not have much, but we had the finest iron in Equestria! Ooh, and hot chocolate with whipped cream, and pastries. We also have the best pastries. Ms Cheerilee, might I break for lunch?”
Cheerilee was about to open her mouth to say something generous like, “And please, take as much time as you need,” but Strudel pre-empted her generosity.
“Is no matter, I can wait. Now! Iron. So we took our most talented mothers and daughters to the looms, and our strongest fathers and sons took up their picks, and the old and the young and the weak worked the bellows and pushed the carts and cooked the delicious pastries. Every hoof worked day and night, preparing itself for… something or other.”
“You seriously don't remember?” Came the voice of the until-now neglected Featherweight, who seemed to be taking down notes.
“Bah! Hundreds of years ago. Tell me, which was Sombra, the cutie-mark eater or the crystal fellow? Did you even know there was a crystal fellow? Too many enemies, too many enemies. If it helps, we shall call them the grufflelumps. Yes, that sounds an appropriate name.”
“They sound bad!” Applebloom echoed faithfully.
“Yes, they probably were.” Uncle Strudel agreed. “So, every hoof on deck, as it was. The men and the smiths created fine steel threads, soft like the ear fluff of a bunny rabbit. And the women wove these threads on their looms, crashing like terrible wooden beasts, they did, clacka-clack-a-clack! The weave was as light as cotton, as comfortable as silk, and ah, as strong as chainmail! A good battle lederhosen could be passed down through the generations, never aging, as strong as the day it was woven!”
Diamond had worked up the strength to be her usual self again. She had been starting to worry Silver Spoon, actually. “What? That ratty old thing you're wearing is supposed to be a battle lederhosen?”
“What? Did I say that? I never said that! Don't put words into my mouth, little pony, or I'll put my hoof in yours!”
“Mr Strudel!” Cheerilee chastised. “No matter how… interesting the child, we do not threaten the children with violence!”
“Pfah. I apologize, I apologize, lovely miss.” The uncle managing to look far more sincere then the niece, “Is just a topic of passion for these old bones. Gets the blood all het up.”
“Well, try to keep your blood at room temperature, sir.”
“I believe that is known in medical circles as hypothermia, miss!” Sweetie Belle contributed.
Scootaloo waved her own hoof in the air. “If he can't punch Diamond Tiara, can I?”
“No! Nopony is punching Diamond Tiara.”
Much to Diamond Tiara's chagrin, the class echoed with a dim 'awww' of disappointment.
“But yes. Battle lederhosen! We vanquished many a hufflegruff with them.”
“Grufflelump,” Applebloom corrected.
“Yes, them as well.” Uncle Strudel agreed. “And to this day, a battle lederhosen, or even a war lederhosen in times of distress, is a symbol of great pride and honour for a Bavariable citizen!”
“A war lederhosen?” Scootaloo dared ask.
“Oh ho, yes!” Uncle Strudel nodded so hard the hat darn near fell off his head. “Your formal lederhosen, in times of peace and what have you, is made of green flax, like this little number I'm wearing.” The old codger gave a little curtsy and spin towards Diamond Tiara. “Your battle lederhosen is for the rank and file, the frontline men, where the banana-cream hits the fan, if you will all excuse my fancy talk. It is grey and it catches the light like a twinkle in a madman's eye. But a war lederhosen? Oh ho! That's for the officers, or the sergeants who really make a name for themselves in kicking flank and taking names!”
Applebloom grabbed Sweetie Belle from her seat and dragged her up to the chalkboard. “What does a war lederhosen look like, Uncle?” She thrust a box of chalk into Sweetie's hooves.
“Silk woven through diamond dust,” Uncle Strudel seemed to whisper to the class, bending down low. Everypony in the room leaned a little closer, even though Uncle Strudel's voice hadn't gotten all that much quieter, “Like a sunset when it catches the light. Every diamond reflects in its surface every other diamond reflecting every diamond, and it's said that when you look upon an officer in his war lederhosen, you look into infinity itself.”
Applebloom nudged Sweetie Belle. “You should totally draw it!” was mouthed. “Nuh uh!” was mouthed right back, “I have no idea how to draw infinity!” “It's easy! You just gotta keep drawin’!” “Oh! Okay, I can do that.”
And so Sweetie took to the board with her chalk.
“They say Celestia herself had a set of war lederhosen commissioned for her fight against the Tindertwigs. She needed a garment that was flexible and fireproof, and steel plate, hoo-wee, well, let me tell you it'll stop an arrow, but it won't stop soaking heat. Silk breathes well enough, and it moves like… well, silk! The diamonds were strong enough to stop even a minotaur's battleaxe, but held between the weave. Oh! Oh, to see our Princess in war lederhosen, crashing through the flaming Weisskuchen to defeat the Flint Tsar…” He wiggled his eyebrows at the class. “If it weren't against Bavaraiable code of ethics, why, I'd have dressed the missus up in it so we could-”
“Ecchem.” Cheerilee coincidentally cleared her throat, loudly.
“Oh! Err, historical re-enactment children. Yes, yes, as is every citizen's duty. Yes.”
“Well, I suppose that's enough of Mr Strudel's time.” Cheerilee emphasized.
“Wait! Mr Strudel,” Sweetie Belle called from the chalkboard. “How's this?”
It was a vaguely pony-shaped white blob that seemed to hurt your eyes to look at.
Strudel frowned at it, wincing. “No, no, no, that's just an unruly blob. War lederhosen looks like infinity spooled around thread, it looks like… hang on, let me get my glasses, it looks like-” he pulled little gold half-moon spectacles out of his lederhosen, rubbed it against the green flax and put them on, wincing slightly at the board. “Oh! Oh, my mistake. This is rather spot-on actually. Really captures the, uh, shimmeriness.”
“I mashed the chalk in my hoof!” Sweetie said proudly.
“It's true.” Applebloom confirmed. “I thought it was very clever.”
They hoofbumped.
Strudel looked at it carefully. “Hrrm… your sister wouldn't happen to be Rarity, would it? Granny Smith does talk about you rapscallions so.”
“Yep! Element of Generosity!”
“She works with silk and gems a lot… I wonder if I could get a commission.” He nodded to himself. “I'll have to come back.”
Cheerilee gestured Applebloom over. “Little one, I don't normally do this, but I'll give you an A right now if you promise to never ask your Uncle back.”
“Because it'd be unfair to the other students?”
“… yes. Let's go with that.”
Applebloom wandered back to her seat with the biggest smile as Uncle Strudel and Sweetie Belle compared notes on the chalkboard. Diamond Tiara seemed to be holding her breath against whatever remark she wanted to make so long as the stallion was still in the room.
“So?” Scootaloo asked, leaning forward to be level with Applebloom in the row in front of her, “What'd she say?”
“I got an A! And I reckon if you go up now, you can get one too for getting Uncle back to the train station.”
Author's Note
This isn't the kind of story I've written in a very long time. It wouldn't be probable, neigh, possible without The Masked Ferret, one of my first and favourite prereaders who has an unshakable, unerring and frankly unnerving level of confidence in me.
Here's to literate mustelids
