Macromantic Gestures

Mac leaned against a tree, and felt the world rise up to meet him. He wasn't drunk; neither his Ma nor his Granny would have tolerated that before sundown, and what his Pa would have thought of the idea would be unprintable. It was somewhere listing towards three in the afternoon, and Mac felt the world the way he always did-- through the roots.

This was Ponyville, after all; a Ponyville a mite over ten years gone since the restoration of the Diarchy, and the strange events that had followed, but Ponyville, after all. The core of the Apple Clan had set those roots down here a century past, and for all the fussing of the some of the aunts, he had no intention of letting those roots move anywhere else. Of course, what with the current Apple Maretriarch being an alicorn princess, the Princess of Honesty, to get to the heart of it, and not taking kindly to such carrying on, he'd had noticed a distinct lack of fussing at reunions of late.

Sweet Apple Acres was Mac's, Mac's and his wife's. She hadn't had to take the Apple name; they'd had a right kind contract drawn up for the foals, even if they hadn't had one yet, near a year past their vows. Not f'r lack a'tryin', he thought with a fairly self-satisfied smirk. The red giant, tall even among hyper stallions, grinned around his customary chewing straw, and stroked a thumb over the intricate carving of his bronze wedding torc. Sure, what with AJ bein' a princess an' all, we mighta had gold but that weren't f'r either of us. Gold's nice and it will shine, but the right turning of the years and bronze will stay, he knew. And it doesn't have to brag.

One year past, Mac thought again, shaking his head as he strolled into Ponyville, his light vest and cotton shirt still itchy. He'd never been one for more than modesty required, but, he was a married stallion now, and there were some proprieties to observe. He waved and nodded to neighbors old and new as he passed, keeping carefully to the new sidewalks. Mac had to admit, he missed just strolling down the streets on his own two feet, but speaking as a farmer, he rather liked being able to get more crop to a larger market before it spoiled.

He'd given up his old harness even before he'd replaced it with the torc, come to that. When his sister and Twilight had examined some of the strange contraptions coming out of the odder minds of ponykind (and beyond), they'd realized that one reason why Equestria hadn't adopted them was pretty simple: even those contraptions built by earth ponies rarely tapped into the slow, unique magic of earthbound. It might not be as flashy as unicorn spells or pegasus thunder, but it had an inevitable strength, like the rumble of mountains before an avalanche.

Mac, with his old harness, handed down through generations, could tow more and till more than even an Assinian steam tractor four or five times his size anywhere from here to Appleloosa, and he wouldn't be that far off in the Badlands. Back home, on the land that had been worked by four generations of Apples, with seeds, saplings, and graftings from lands that had known them still longer? Shoot. The land all but furrowed itself for him.

It wasn't just the family and connections, of course; that just made it easier. It was a part of what being an earth pony was, at the root of it all. Drop a young mare or stallion in a new town, have a blacksmith bang out a harness for the local Elders to call into the land, and bang, that young'un would be able to turn soil and plant for themselves, stamping health into the land and singing diseases away-- and that was just on their own. As a part of a team in harness, or a song-as-you-march, well ma'am, you could grow a town right easily enough anywhere.

AJ and "Little" Twi, now only a foot shorter than Mac himself, when they could feel all that magic working together, figured out that if you made things work together, like the unicorn magic that helped pegasi carry substantially more in them little chariots than both could flying together, why, you got a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Mechanical advantage became a model for magical advantage, and Mac had set his beloved harness to become a well-polished family knick-knack, or store against bad times.

The odd, spider-like combinations of brass and crystal that made his new harness and associated tools and whatnot took some getting used to, but nowadays, even with AJ tending her own fields not far from Friendship Castle, Mac didn't need to take away from his wife's work or Apple Bloom's schooling with Ms. Zecora. He could really do what AJ had tried to near a decade gone-- and with more land, to boot.

Still, Mac was grateful he'd never been an impatient stallion, seeing as he was waiting for the lights to turn across the street… again… and he watched a frustrated little filly poke at the little button that Twi swore up and down actually would, "under certain conditions," if he recalled the phrasing right, speed up the trot signal. Now that I come to think of it, AJ never is the one to answer those sorts of questions, is she?

For all the farm kept him busy, though, Mac had gotten a handle on the pulse of life in the modern Ponyville. He shouldn't call it new; he knew better than most that fields changed, and apples changed, and even the turning of the years might change-- especially with actual dedicated seasonal planners-- but the farm didn't change. Neither had Ponyville. It was still a town for all three of the kindred.

A unicorn might teleport across the street, but she wouldn't do so into a knot of earth ponies or less flashy unicorns waiting at the corner. Pegasi might make the best couriers, but bless her heart, even Princess Rainbow Dash didn't swoop in close above traffic, pedestrian or augmented. Ponyville's soul had survived Discord, it had survived Tirek, it had survived Discord becoming a long term resident… it had grown, and thrived. Mac loved it here.

Mac meandered down the sidewalks, from street to street. He knew why he was going, if not where he was going, not yet. Quiet and soft-footed as he was soft-spoken, Mac sometimes boggled out of town friends and relations with how easily he swept through the fields of ponies blowing hither and yon, like a particularly slow moving wind over golden grain. It wasn't hard for him to look at a variety of stores without wasting more time than a glance or a walk in and a friendly nod, nor more effort than a proper mosey.

One year, that was the thing, wasn't it. Three hundred and sixty five exchanges of the sun and moon. almost… more or less, not counting alicorn-level shenanigans, or the occasional attempts by Discord and Princess Pinkamena Diane Pie to stuff a week's worth of celebration into the usual twenty-four hours-- or the other way around, stretched thin. Mac heard tell from Twi that on other worlds with less responsive but slightly less vulnerable celestial mechanics, they only had to adjust the calendar every four years or so, but he imagined that had its own disadvantages. Mac didn't chase much after greener grass.

So here he was, ahead on the farm chores, ahead on the maintenance chores, but some few hours left, to find a gift that really symbolized his thanks for a year's worth of love to, in his humble but perhaps forceful opinion, the best mare an apple farming orphan colt could ever wish. Which was the trick. Oh, he had a fancy timepiece stashed away amidst the stills, one that would feel all the geomantic and biomantic flow of the farm, all the little tricks and changes from life along the Everfree, or blown along from Cloudsdale way… or blown up from the Canterlot Universities, at that.

Mac had found a good swap for it, keeping it well within their budget. He knew it was useful and practical, and tied into his wife's calling. She'd appreciate it. But that wasn't right, was it? Appreciate. Not for this. Not now. And he could just make it a gift to show he cared a few months down the line, if he could find something better. Something brighter. Something her.

On that "practical" note,, Mac's thoughts trailed off with a sigh, leaving another lovely little store and blessing that the proprietor had noticed his torc before she made comments about his flank in, yes, those jeans, same jeans as any farm stallion, just sized up a mite. On the actual practical side, he knew that it was foolish, and probably irksome to his particular mare, for him to think such things. There must be thousands of pair-bonds, not to mention the more complicated relationships of herds, where "appreciate" rather than "threw a dart at a list" would be fine and happy, and it was disrespectful to think that his mare would be otherwise.

Mac, though, vaguely remembered what AJ didn't. A loving romance, eternal and new as the orchard through the seasons, between a tall, varmint-busting mare and her tall, serious stallion. Had seen gifts exchanged that to young eyes at least had seemed to be so strange and wonderful, but somehow obvious for each partner in turn. He didn't know if that was real, or memory changing hands with nostalgia, but he wanted to give it a try, and he wasn't going to give up on his first dang year.

The clock remained, though. Wrapped up nice and pretty already, come to that. He wasn't taking chances with the day, neither, and had flowers waiting in some nice pots, enough for both of them. They'd be fresh for a nice breakfast together, and he could re-use the pots. "Apple Clan Apples" might be doing well enough to support and network with other Clansfolk as a part of their bustling world, but Mac remembered hard times, and only threw away what couldn't or wouldn't be used.

His lackadaisical mission was abruptly interrupted by a sign that made him nearly chew right through his straw. Now, he knew that any hyper had a temper, and if his didn't pop up as much as most, it was because it was like fire in the forest -- slow to start, but a rage when it got there. And Mac might be willing to let most bygones be bygones, but there were some things that he held onto like the family land.

Exactly like the family land, in fact.

Mac opened the too-small door with perhaps a trifle unneighborly force. The loud bell and having to duck his head lower than to which he was accustomed didn't help his attitude, and neither did the irksome pair of voices that greeted him.

"Welcome, friend!" said the one. No mustache.

"To the Ponyville Memoranda Emporium!" said the other. Mustache.

Together, they said, "An Extravaganza of Elemental Souvenirs and Mem…" trailing off as they finally noticed who was glaring down at them, squeezed between low-set shelves. "Oh, Tartarus," continued the synchronized voices of the Flim Flam Brothers.

Mac saw red. And purple, orange, pink, green, and blue. Strewn throughout the store were various remnants of the adventures upon which his sister and her friends had raised their lives and saved Equestria, ranging from the dubious-- slight, shallow bowl-shapes, shards of geodes that purported to be from the rock the Rainboom split-- to the possible-- one of the mugs from the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Six Thousand incident that had been the first spark for Mac-- to the macabre, a burnt book with a card claiming that it was from the Golden Oaks Library and costing about ten times what it had probably cost the town to buy for the library in the first place.

"Now, fr-, er, Mr. Apple," said Flim, holding up his hands, "I can guarantee, with both proper contracts--"

"-- and notarized certificates of au-then-ticity--" interjected Flam, who was edging slightly for the back door.

"Yes, indeed, notarized and spell checked," agreed Flim, before glaring at his more cowardly (or more sensible) brother. Turning back to Mac, Flim went on, "With all proper papers, parchments, and governmental forms, that we are the legitimate and, aheh, Apple honest owners of all of these items…"

Trapped by his brother's glare-- and a faint glow in the lock-- Flam piped up, "These items of tremendous historical and cultural value!"

"True, true, these extremely culturally significant and expensive, I mean valuable, items, which are also Apple-honest what they claim to be," Flim finished.

Time was Mac would have found the Flim Flam Brothers claiming "Apple" honesty something rather more like oil than water for the anger boiling up in his broad chest. But, thanks to AJ, Princess Cadence, and Prince-Consort Shining Armor, those words meant something. Floating above the cash register were two crystals, one an orange apple, the other a purple diamond.

Grown in the Crystal Empire and Harmonized by AJ and Princess Rarity's abjurers and diviners, respectively, they ensured that the store did business without seeking to gouge or deceive the customer. A business that didn't show at least the apple-- well. Wasn't a legitimate business. One that didn't have the diamond signaled that hard bargains, hard to find goods, or hardened hearts were involved; they still found custom, but not as easily. Mac was shocked out of his anger by the diamond more than , truth to tell, and he simply nodded at it.

The brothers shrugged in unison. Flam said, "Again, quite honestly, Mr. Apple, we've got a bit of a reputation here in Ponyville…"

"And everywhere else," Flim said wryly. "But," he added, "We also have come across quite the relics of, ah, Elemental value, in our wanderings."

The brothers tapped each other's horns lightly. "And since we do, indeed, know the resonance of the Princesses," said Flam.

"Harmony to them all," said both.

"We are actually quite able to make sure we've got the goods. Which is fine for tourists, but since we intend to sell to both the common mare and the antiquarian crowd," Flim explained.

"We must have a means to cancel out our, uh, previous mala fides, if you'll forgive our Diamond Dog Ancient Equestrian…" Flam concluded, with a shrug. Both brothers moved in, well, harmony, Mac supposed, and bowed floridly to the diamond. They then waited, nervously.

They had something to worry about. Mac was one of the tallest citizens of Equestria. If his middle sister was stronger now, a princess and all-- even Rainbow, at a "mere" seven foot, or that nice Princess Fluttershy would be these days, after all-- not even Twi had his height, even if she was near as broad. At nine feet tall and darn near half that at the shoulder, he had been once described as a well-mannered mobile wall of red brick. He took pride that it wasn't a odd, angly height; not a beanpole, he. No, he knew that the could take more than some satisfaction in the fact that the warrior-loving Princess Luna had taken him for more than a few rides around the haybarn prior to when he'd started dating seriously, and if she'd put him away wet, he'd been able to walk the next day without wincing.

He didn't have the heart in him to threaten them, especially not for at least being honest with the tourists and pilgrims who flocked to Ponyville and Friendship Castle. Many street vendors, especially midway between Ponyville's more regularized center, and Friendship Castle's organized patrols, didn't even have the orange crystal chip that at least would show a constable they weren't dealing in stolen or forged goods, not that even these days most tourists would know to ask. He simply nodded to the gems again and said, "Eyup."

The Flim Flam Brothers relaxed, if slowly. When Mac didn't leave, an idea percolating in his head, Flim nervously asked, "And, ah, how might we help you, Mr. Apple?"

Mac considered, then frowned. "First year anniversary," he admitted, and then silenced Flam with a glare. "Don't need singin', thank ya kindly."

Flam, who had been about to press a hand to his diaphragm, coughed, and tapped his chest, as though to indicate he might have something stuck. Flim patted his brother's back and rolled his eyes.

Mac looked around for a while, careful of the high-priced (if perhaps not quite so high in value) items, before a thought struck. He walked over to a table, looked around, and… "Eyup," he said again, and picked it up. The perfect gift. Mac brought it over to the register.

"... Flim-Flam Brothers' Ponyville Memoranda Emporium, while absolutely guaranteeing authenticity, cannot warranty efficacy of this item for the purposes of marital bliss in the event of or pertaining to anniversarial celebratory uses," cautioned Flam, who started to suggest, "Perhaps we might interest you in a…"

"Eenope."

Flim glared at his brother and tried his own stab at conciliation. "Well, of course, you'll know the lady better than we, aheh. Comes to fifty bits, but seeing as you are a part of the history yourself, perhaps we could knock an apology off to…"

"Eenope!" said Mac, and the flare in his eyes was enough to get the brothers to ring up, box up, and wrap up the gift. He wanted no part of whatever that "discount" would lead to; if the gift hadn't been perfect… He grunted an affirmative to the padding they suggested, pulled out his coin pouch, and counted out six ten bit pieces, guestimating on the wrapping, and wordlessly dared either brother to contradict him. They didn't, and, to Mac's relief, kept the unctuous chorus to a minimum as he left.