Luck o' the Neighrish

by Alaborn

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Discord, Slice of Life, Zecora, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2459

After a hard day spent wrapping up winter, why not celebrate with a festive green brew? Zecora is about to find out why!

After a hard day spent wrapping up winter, why not celebrate with a festive green brew? Zecora is about to find out why!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everypony!

Published 2019-03-17 17:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-03-17 17:50:01 UTC

There Once was a Mare from the Everfree

Luck o’ the Neighrish

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

In a small hut hidden within the Everfree Forest, a lone zebra stoked a fire underneath a large cauldron. In the cauldron, water simmered, ready to be raised in temperature when it came time to brew. In the meantime, Zecora enjoyed the warmth provided by the fire. Ponies had just wrapped up winter the previous day, but in the Everfree, winter seemed to cling to the air like the last breath of a desperate windigo.

Satisfied with the state of the cauldron, Zecora focused on tidying up her hut, making sure each component and reagent was fully stocked and stored in its rightful place. Although she was confident in her own abilities, as well as the training she had given her young apprentice, it never hurt to be prepared for things to go wrong. Brewing potions was a subtle art, a lesson she learned due to her many mistakes during her long ago apprenticeship.

It was a time of year when the creatures of the Everfree Forest were still lethargic, some logy after a long winter’s hibernation, others wanting nothing do with the cold and wet weather. And it was late morning, a time when the fiercest of beasts liked to sleep. All things said, it was about a safe a time as any for a pony to make the journey from Ponyville to Zecora’s hut. That didn’t stop the zebra from worrying, a worry that didn’t cease until she heard the loud hoofsteps of an approaching pony.

Zecora stepped out of her hut in time to see Apple Bloom come into view, trotting along the well-trod path to her hut. Her hooffalls were heavy, befitting her earth pony heritage, and Zecora could sense her magic pushing into the soil, trying to implant harmony where chaos reigned. It was a futile attempt, but it spoke of a talent that served her well in the art of brewing.

Once Apple Bloom was in earshot, Zecora greeted her.

“Good morning to you, pupil fair
The journey did treat you with care?
You have just one notion
To brew up a potion
And learn of the knowledge I share.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Zecora? Are you feeling all right?”

Zecora shook her head, and then spoke again.

“I must say, it is strange what I said
There were just two lines in my head
A couplet should do
But when I need more than two
I speak one more pair in its stead.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Apple Bloom asked again. “You seemed fine yesterday at Winter Wrap-Up. Did you run into some poison joke?”

“It was not those strange flowers of blue
They lie dormant for now, it is true
If you think it’s the case
Then let’s cut to the chase
And mix up the curative brew.”

“If the poison joke’s still sleepy from winter, then that’s not it. You don’t have any of the flowers around, do you?”

Zecora shook her head.

“Then did something happen after Winter Wrap-Up?”

When her pony friends first suggested to Zecora that she help the town wrap up winter, she was skeptical. While she had become good friends with several ponies, she still remembered the reactions she once received when she journeyed into town. But when Apple Bloom implored her to give it a try, she acquiesced. She just couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes.

It turned out to be a wonderful experience. Winter Wrap-Up was truly a magical event. Everypony came together, no matter what their job or special talent, to make Ponyville ready for spring. She worked alongside ponies she had never met to plant new seeds, and nopony treated her any differently. Since that day, she looked forward to each coming Winter Wrap-Up.

This year, she again worked on the plant team, spreading grass seeds and planting flowers to prepare the town’s parks for spring, and then helping with the gardens of several townsponies. As the day turned to evening, the number of ponies working dropped off, as several worked to set up tents and booths for a party. Ever since Twilight Sparkle started organizing it, the ponies of Ponyville were able to wrap up winter in time for a grand celebration.

It was evening when Zecora put down her now empty bag of seeds. She wiped the sweat from her brow, grateful for the cool air. The pleasant smell of baking bread and roasted vegetables drew her attention, reminding her how long it had been since lunch.

Zecora wandered around the tents. All around her, ponies congregated, sharing food, drink, and conversation. But a day of working with and talking to other ponies had worn on her. She preferred the solitude of her isolated hut, and sometimes felt there was such a thing as too much friendship.

A metallic glint from one of the tents caught Zecora’s eye. The tent itself was at the edge of the field, away from the crowds, and was topped by a shiny green icon. There were two makeshift tables out front, assembled from crates and barrels; both were unoccupied. It looked to be the perfect place for her to rest her weary body.

When she approached the tent, an earth pony popped out to greet her. The first, second, third, and fourth words she thought of to describe him were “green”. He had a green coat, a darker green mane with a light green stripe, and his cutie mark was also green, a three-leafed plant that resembled clover, but not quite. It was the same shape as the icon that topped his tent. The stranger also wore a ridiculous green hat, decorated with a black belt and gold buckle. He tipped the hat to her.

“Top o’ the morning to you, lass. Or should I say evening?” he greeted her. He spoke with an accent unlike anypony she had met. That little pinto colt was the closest to his accent, but this stranger’s voice had a strange lilt to it.

“Good evening to you, stallion I meet. Could it be that you have something to eat?”

The stallion smiled at her. “That I do, lass. Come, have a seat.”

It felt good to get off her hooves, Zecora thought. She could finally relax after a hard day’s work. The aroma of the earth pony’s cooking made her salivate, and she eagerly waited for dinner.

It didn’t take long for the green pony to return. He placed a plate in front of her, minced vegetables in mushroom gravy, topped with mashed potatoes.

“A clever way to use the last of the long winter’s stored repast,” Zecora commented. She picked up her spoon and tried the dish. It was warm and hearty, which was all that mattered, but she enjoyed the savory flavors.

“And to wash it down, have an ale,” the earth pony said, dropping a mug on the table with a flourish.

Zecora raised an eyebrow upon seeing the green liquid in the mug. “In my years, many ales have I seen, but none of them have been green.”

“Aye, it’s but a wee bit of food coloring,” the earth pony replied. “It’s how we welcome spring back on the Emerald Isle.”

Zecora wasn’t convinced, but she was thirsty. And despite the color, the ale tasted like ale should.

Zecora finished her meal in relative silence, as nopony else visited the stranger’s tent. She washed down her meal with a second green beer. Then, she thanked the pony for the meal and headed back home.

“And you didn’t notice this until just now?” Apple Bloom said.

“‘Twas just me as I journeyed back home
The curse of one living alone
I don’t talk to myself
As I tidy my shelves
You were first to discover my tone.”

“Do you know how to fix it?” Apple Bloom asked.

Zecora waved a hoof around her hut and spoke.

“I can try many old remedies
Like this and like that and like these
But I cannot be sure
That the potions will cure
It's not like I'm treating a sneeze.”

“I don’t think any of that’s going to help, Zecora,” Apple Bloom said.

“Then what, my dear mare, should I do?
If the fix is not spell and not brew?
I’m at my wit’s end
For this curse I can’t mend
I confess I do not have a clue.”

“You said this stranger was from someplace called the Emerald Isle?” Apple Bloom said.

Zecora nodded.

“I think I know how to fix this one, Zecora,” she said. “You see, we just did a big geography lesson in Miss Cheerilee’s class, and there ain’t no place called the Emerald Isle.” Apple Bloom turned, poked her head out the door of Zecora’s hut, and inhaled deeply.

Zecora watched, wondering what she was going to do.

“DISCORD! YOU GET YOUR MISMATCHED FLANKS OVER HERE!!!!” Apple Bloom shouted.

Even with her ears down, Zecora felt the ringing in her ears. Apple Bloom had a pair of lungs that would make an adult earth pony proud.

A moment later, a bathtub appeared out of nowhere. Somehow, water still came out of the shower head. Through the water and steam, they could see the form of Discord. The draconequus was wearing a pink shower cap and scrubbing his body with a strange-shaped brush. “Do you mind?” he said testily.

“Seriously, Discord? Are you always going to appear in the shower when you’re called out? Ain’t that a mite predictable for the Lord of Chaos?”

Discord huffed. “I’ll have you know that, as a being that combines the best of many different creatures, my personal grooming needs are extensive.” He pushed the shower curtain aside, revealing a long row of bottles, arranged from largest to smallest. “Why, my conditioning regimen alone....”

“Can it, Discord,” Apple Bloom interrupted.

“Oh, yeah. You have that whole family honesty thing going on,” Discord said, waving his paw.

“I think you know why you’re here,” Apple Bloom said.

The shower disappeared, and Discord stood before them, perfectly dry, and now wearing that same green hat Zecora had described. He held a mug of green liquid in his talons, which he offered to Apple Bloom. “Care for a nip o’ cider?” he said to Apple Bloom, using that weird lilting accent that Zecora had described.

“Pass,” Apple Bloom said flatly. “I don’t want to speak in weird rhymes.”

“They’re called limericks, my dear Apple Bloom. A noble poetic form with a rich artistic history, mostly displayed in tavern restrooms. But that’s neither here nor there,” Discord said. He waggled the mug of green cider. “Besides, you’d probably end up speaking with the erudite speech and clipped tones of the Canterlot nobility. Or maybe you’d speak Fancy again. Though that would hardly be unique....”

“So Discord has pranked me, it’s true
This ailment was surely no flu
The trick that he pulled
It sure had us fooled
I still do not know what to do.”

“I’ve had my fun,” Discord said. “I’ll fix it once you figure it all out.”

“Figure what out?” Apple Bloom said. “You’re Discord. You can literally do anything!”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Discord replied dismissively. “Really, Apple Bloom. This is a lesson you should have learned in kindergarten.” He snapped his talons, and Zecora and Apple Bloom both shrunk, appearing like toddlers. They were crawling on a plain white tarp, with colorful jars of hoof paint spread out before them. “How do we turn yellow into green, class?”

“It was poison joke!” Apple Bloom exclaimed.

“Very well. You both graduate,” Discord said. With another snap, Zecora and Apple Bloom were back to their normal size. Both equines were now wearing mortarboards.

“Guess we need that poison joke cure after all,” Apple Bloom said.

“Oh, no need for that,” Discord said. He turned to Zecora. “Thank you for today’s entertainment, Zecora. You did my dear friend, the man from Nantucket, proud,” Discord said. He waved his lion’s paw over Zecora.

Zecora, meanwhile, felt a sudden discomfort in her stomach. Without warning, she belched loudly, with enough force to knock the mortarboard off her head. Her belch coalesced into a blue bubble, which Discord captured in a glass jar.

Zecora looked to Apple Bloom and smiled, a smile she had shared with the filly before. She then spoke to Discord.

“Thank you, good Discord, my friend
For bringing this curse to an end
I feel it was time
To bring back my rhyme
And put my poor throat on the mend."

Apple Bloom stared at Discord. “What did you do to her?” she yelled.

“I fixed her! I swear!” Discord said.

“I’m going to tell Fluttershy,” Apple Bloom warned him.

Discord raised his paw. “I swear, on my friendship with Fluttershy, that I removed all of the poison joke from Zecora.”

“Some all-powerful creature of chaos you are, if you can’t even fix poison joke,” Apple Bloom said.

Discord snapped his talons several more times. “She’s fixed, I tell you!”

“Let me try out my true voice and sing
Even though I don’t feel anything
The extra words spoke
Show that poison joke
Is a curse that to me still does cling.”

There were more furious snaps. “Try it again.”

“I will give it another quick try
Though I confess, I do not know why
This creature who asks
Is bad at his tasks
It’s another pure failure, oh my.”

Apple Bloom draped a foreleg over Zecora’s withers. “Come on. Let’s just go to the Ponyville spa and get the cure done.

“No!” Discord shouted. He snapped his talons again. “I will not be known as the draconequus who couldn’t do what two simple spa ponies can do!”

Zecora turned to Discord and smiled. “As pranking ponies are all wont to do, now’s the time when I say, ‘I got you’.”

Discord facepalmed. “I can’t believe I fell for that,” he said. He scooped Apple Bloom and Zecora into a hug. “Well played, I say.”

The trio shared more laughs that day. But when Discord offered them more green brew, they wisely turned it down.

Author's Note

Here's a random idea that popped into my head: what if Zecora's rhymes became limericks? Obviously, that makes for a one shot story that should be published on St. Patrick's Day.

I'd like to thank the man from Nantucket for helping me master the noble art form of limerick.