Burnt Oak, a stallion well into his years, was stacking firewood on top of each other. A burnt brown as his coat and his previously gray mane now aged white. Stubble on his chin and a nicely trimmed mustache. An old blue bandana wrapped around his neck and a nice hat snug on his head. He is the definition of a background pony and he knew it, but that didn't matter. He had a job he loved and he had the chance to see his beloved friend's kids grow up. Burnt was old, he knew it, and he decided then and there that he lived a good life.
The final log was placed on the clump and he took a step back and wiped his forehead. Sweat dripped off his foreleg and the amount caught Burnt off guard. He chuckled, acknowledging that his body wasn't as spry as before. A simple run form the forest to his house on the outskirts of Ponyville was now the equivalent of working the fields for a full day way back when. He sighed wistfully, remembering fond memories of his good buddy.
"Macintosh, ya sly devil." He chuckled once more before heading inside. His house, simple and rustic, as were most houses in Ponyville. Despite the newer technology in housebuilding, everypony agreed that this was the best. They were easy to rebuild and Celestia knew how many times they had to rebuild.
The interior was simple as well. A dining table adorned with four chairs, a kitchen, a livingroom with a bookcase and a couch, his bedroom was upstairs as well as the bathroom. A balcony jutted out, perfect for lounging around on lazy days. All of his furniture and knick knacks weren't of much value to him, why should they? He was an earth pony, bound to the land, not to the possessions a pony might obtain. That being said, his bandana truly did mean a lot to him. It was a present from Bright Mac all those years ago, and he's kept it ever since. The second item of value was a picture, the only one in existence which contained Bright Mac and Burnt Oak, smiling and standing in front of a field that they had plowed.
Burnt hung his hat on the stand and went to the kitchen. He had an hour to kill, as it were, before he would make his way to Fillydelphia. His latest shipment of logs. He decided, oh, say about a decade or so, to branch out and visit some of the places much farther than Ponyville, Appleloosa, Dodge Junction, and the like. The reason was that he needed bits and maybe, just maybe, find somepony. Of course, that didn't happen, as shown by the empty house, but it didn't matter much to Burnt. He liked life just the way it was.
***
Burnt Oak gripped a relatively sturdy branch between his backhooves so the wood wouldn't slip. Then, using his mouth and his forehooves, he would use several tools to whittle away. A sudden jolt from the train had his heart in his throat and it took several breaths to calm him down. After the slight panic passed, he chuckled mirthlessly.
"A heart attack, ey? There are worse ways to go." He ignored the curious glances from the other passengers. Most ponies in Ponyville knew of his sudden and sporadic ramblings and they respected his privacy which in turn he respected them for it. There are the exceptions of course, a certain pink pony, but those are few ad far between. He is perfectly capable of having a normal conversation with another pony and does so on a regular basis, just to set the record straight, but still, he would prefer the silence and solitude of his chosen life.
"Hey mister?" Burnt looked up. It was a colt.
"Yes?" Perhaps he was going to ask why he said what he said. Wouldn't be the first time.
"Do you realize you're bleeding?" He looked down and blinked. He was indeed.
"Oh, thank you." Burnt quickly washed away the blood oozing out of a cut that probably happened when the jolt happened. Such are the hazards of whittling while on a train. He took care of the wound in such a proficient way that could only mean he'd done it many times before, and he supposed he had done it many times before, as is evident by the many scars that lined his forelegs.
There was a chime. It snapped Burnt out of his musings and he quickly packed up his tools and wood. He stood up and watched as the train slowly eased into the Fillydelphian station. Tipping his hat to the colt from before, he cantered out and waited for several unicorns to lug out his luggage. Burnt paid them some bits after they were done and within a moment, the train was off again. Paying no mind to the haste, he grabbed his baggage and hoisted them onto his back. Filled to the brim with firewood, it was quite a strain, but he's been doing this for years and soon enough, he was able to weave his way to the marketplace.
***
Burnt Oak lounged back in his easy pop up stool, made exactly for this scenario. The autumn sun was bright out today and the market wasn't as shaded as it would be during the summer. Thus the marketplace wasn't as busy as most days. There, in the fourth slot was where he was. He had his logs put into bundles of seven logs each and sold them for only three bits. It was cheap and he wouldn't be able to live much off of the profits, if he even got profits today, but it was how he operated.
Many of the other shopkeepers and vendors criticized his prices, saying they were too low and he would always reply with, "I have more sales then you." It was dirty, he knew, they knew it, but sometimes you just had to roll in the mud to find treasure. They smart ones shut up after that remark. The ones who didn't, found out what would happen if his peace was interrupted for too long.
As of right now, it was slow. Burnt could only see three or four shoppers, he wasn't sure if that mare was a vendor or not. Deciding that waiting around would be boring and ultimately, a waste of time, he produced his whittling project from earlier. The wound he received from that slight accident was now wrapped in several layers of gauze, enough to stop the bleeding.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, whittling. He did know that he had finished several woodland creatures before he stopped. There was a bird, a squirrel, that one was his favorite, an owl, and most interestingly, a manticore, despite him never seeing one. It surprised him to see how much he made and the quality too. The more he thought about it, the more curious it was. His creations were never this detailed nor accurate. He grinned a slight grin, perhaps this hobby was going to bear fruit.
"Excuse me?" He turned and looked. It was her.
Author's Note
Fun fact: This is the first Burnt Oak fic on this website, as is Torch Song. Funny that. By the criteria alone, this is the most unique story ever!
Torch Song, a mare in her mid years, was contemplating. A pale yellow coat with a orange and purple mane and tail rolled up into a bun. There was a braided strand that fell from her mane so it hung before her eyes, the sight of it always calmed her. Turquoise beads were braided all over her hair and the sight of it got her looks from the elite, she didn't care. At most times, she was seen with her Ponytones uniform, but not today.
Today was something different, the start of her solo career. It's been her dream since she was a little filly and no offense to the other members of the Ponytones, she loves them dearly, but Torch wanted something more, something else. She finally got her chance when company from Fillydelphia wanted to meet with her. She sighed wistfully and gathered all the supplies she might need. Bits, a brochure about Fillydelphia, a sweater just in case, and other knick knacks that a lady has no need to divulge.
She left her house, one of simple design just like all the other Ponyvillian houses, and went to the boutique. Carousel Boutique to be exact. It was the location of potentially the last time the Ponytones would ever meet. She wasn't sure how they would cope without her, but all four of them were extremely supportive in her decision, but even then, she still felt a tad guilty.
On the way, her brain wandered. She needed a debut song, one that would land her in the good graces of her potential sponsor. The pressure had her heart in a tizzy, but she was confident she would think of something. After all, her meeting with them would be in three days. Plenty of time.
"Lillies in the Valley." She said as she peered closely at said flower. No inspiration came. She moved on.
***
Torch Song was sitting down, thinking of how the ride was long and boring. The train cart was filled with chatter and the wailing of a small filly. The outside was just a blurry landscape, not to mention her mind was drifting too much to actually focus on any landmarks. It was also a weekday, so the train was completely full, forcing Torch into a corner with her luggage squeezed next to her. The stallion next to her looked very sickly and was coughing every once in a while. All of this, and she didn't notice.
The song, that was the only thing that was driving her now. That moment, that weekend, it was all about the song and Torch had no idea what it would sound like. How could she know? She's never written a song before! In the Ponytones, it was always Rarity or Fluttershy, mostly Fluttershy in the later months once they realized how good her songs were. As if that thought triggered some descent into madness, she started thinking about all the songs she knew.
Those village wide songs in Ponyville, the Equestrian anthem written by Rara and then when she was Countess Coloratura with her weird techy hip hop stuff, Torch never really liked that genre. Speaking of which, her mind drifted over to dubtrot, coined by the one and only DJ-Pon3, and you can talk about the DJ without speaking of her partner in crime, the famed bassist or cellist, depending on who you talk to, Octavia with her haunting classical music. Rap music invented by local baker, Pinkie Pie. Pop music, popularized by Sapphire Shores and Songbird Serenade. The ballads written by the lineage of Princess Cadance. And then finally, the acapella of the Ponytones. All of these different songs floated around in her head and it hurt.
"Aaaargh!" She released an aggressive exhale. It caught some attention.
"Are you alright, miss?" It was the stallion across from her. He looked nice enough, with that hopeful yet concerned smile.
"Oh, perfectly fine, good sir, just this terrible thought keeps plaguing me." It wasn't the whole truth, but who would want to hear the whole truth?
"Ah, the thoughts of a creator?" Torch raised an eyebrow at that.
"And how would you know that, my good sir?"
"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend if I did. What I meant was that, I know exactly what you mean. I am a writer, Scribbled Notes is the name my parents gave me and once this newspaper cutie mark appeared on my flank, I have been 'plagued,' as you say, by my creative thoughts, both healthy and unhealthy." Torch wasn't expecting to hear a somewhat philosophical rant about creativity, yet here she was. On a train, listening to a writer complaining with reasoning. She pondered this, and it certainly was a most curious situation.
"You raise most intriguing points, good sir. I would have to think about it."
"Call me Scribbled."
"If I must do so, then to spare myself of being rude to a certainly kind fellow, you may call me Torch, Torch Song."
"A pleasure."
"Likewise."
***
Torch Song was trotting down a cobbled street, on her back a saddlebag. She had arrived at her hotel room right on time and checked in. Dropped her luggage off and immediately headed towards the shopping district, determined to find something, anything. She had this simple thought, and it was buried deep in her subconscious, that somehow this would solve her inexplicable mental block.
On the way there, she had to ask several of the residents. There were the ones who were helpful like that little colt with the most impish grin. And then there were the unashamed rude ponies like that old mare, 'determined to make life miserable for everypony else.' Those were the words of her neighbor, not Torch. It only took ten minutes, but she was finally able to reach it, mostly due to a giant banner that said 'SHOPPING DISTRICT.'
The first stall she saw was the fruits & vegetables one. She did enjoy her veggies from time to time, but the thing that caught her eye were the strawberries. The sweetness and simply the shape of them filled her with such happiness, it's hard to describe. Deciding that her plans were now forfeit, or at the very least, postponed, she beelined straight towards the strawberries.
"Hello ma'am, how can I help you?" The seller was a mare wit a simple enough mane and coat, but she wasn't here for the pony.
"Strawberries." It was very undignified, but she couldn't help herself, she was certain her mouth was dripping with saliva.
"Excuse me?"
"Strawberries. How much for one box?" The vendor looked taken aback. Perhaps it was Torch's hungry stare. She would deny any of this ever happening, but for her, strawberries were the food of Princesses.
The whole interaction lasted only five minutes and she left pretty happy with three boxes of strawberries. She had no doubt that the mare behind the counter would remember her for a good chunk of her life, if not all her life. Torch had no qualms about that, the strawberries were worth it.
While she was munching on her delicious treats, she walked and gazed about the shopping district, hoping for any inspiration. Basket weaving? No. Poker? Unladylike. The wonderful art of bread making? Delicious, but no. This was how it went, and as the day wore on, the more disheartened she became. She was preparing herself, emotionally and physically, to turn around and go back to the hotel. Then she saw something, no, someone. It was him.
Author's Note
🎵I gave you my heart and then you turned around!🎵
Was listening to that song while writing this, good song that, incredibly creepy, but still, good song. 
"Excuse me?" Burnt Oak turned around to see who was talking. It was a mare, a beautiful young one at that.
"Yes? Can I help ya?" He half expected to see a small flash of distaste before being covered up by a small smile, but there was no such thing with this mare. Instead there was more of a desperate, kind, and hopeful smile. Perhaps she knew of country folk such as he.
"Yes yes, I saw your pieces from afar and I must say, being much closer, it truly is spectacular!" He's been in the business for far too long, so he would know when somepony was praising for their own benefit. This mare, this strange peculiar mare, wasn't doing that either. The way that Burnt saw it, it was either he was getting too old for this type of nonsense or perhaps, she truly was a lady who had integrity and honor, unlike all those other city folk. In fact, so much so, he had a nagging suspicion she wasn't city born.
"Well, thank ya kindly."
"Truly! Now, as for why I am here confiding with you is because I require your talents, do you take commissions?" There was something in her eyes that made Burnt pause. He'd never done woodworking for others before, he'd only done them for himself to pass the time. He mulled the idea for a while in his head, all the while the mare stared at him with large and hopeful eyes. She truly was something, Burnt gave her that.
"Depends, what are ya thinking?" He decided to see what she would say first. His gut decided that and he trusted his gut more than most ponies. With his fading memory, he'd only ever recall his gut failing on him was that one time he walked to town on Tuesday, where five minutes after he got into town, it started raining. It was dreary that day.
"Anything! It can be anything, but I want it to be unique and somewhat larger than what you have going on here. I'm willing to pay a reasonable amount of bits and on top of that, you'll have my eternal gratitude."
"Yer gonna have to specify by what ya mean with anything. If yer willing, ya can take me out for some food and we can talk about what ya want." He ignored the excited and relieved squeal and attempted to get up. It didn't work. It took rocking back and forth before he finally got back on his hooves.
"Oh, thank you thank you! You do not know how much this means to me!" She pranced around like a happy filly and perhaps that was exactly what she was. Burnt smiled warmly that immediately faded once he bent down to try and pick up his remaining firewood. His vision faded and he may have heard an audible crack and by the time he recovered, he was gasping and his forehead was dripping in sweat. The mare was staring at him with concern as were some of his fellow vendors. Despite the competition between the shopkeepers, they still all looked out for each other. "Are you alright?"
"I'm good, thank ya." Deep breaths. He kept on reminding himself and before long his heartbeat slowed. Deep inside, Burnt felt annoyed and slightly angry. He was getting old, soon he wouldn't be able to do these trips and sell his beloved wood. Once recovered, he inspected the logs still on the ground and considered trying to pick them up again, but then decided against it. "If ya could be ever so kind and pick that up."
"Oh, sure."
***
"Oh, sure." Torch Song had picked up the logs and balanced half of them on her back and the other half was on the stallion's back. She tried to fight and said she could handle it, but he insisted. As the two walked, she couldn't help but worry for the old stallion. He was clearly skilling in his craft, unlike Torch, but he clearly was getting on in his years. As long as he keeps his promise, she supposed.
Thinking ahead, she decided to bring them to a small cafe next to the seaside. Torch picked this place especially because it was the only place she knew that had good pastries and she was a sucker for pastries, especially jam ones. A waiter came over once he saw the two of them approaching and directed them to a table. She carefully placed the logs on the floor and the stallion did the same. They took their seats and patiently waited for the waiter to come back with menus, and all the while, she was thinking of her commission, her wood piece.
It had to be unique, something inspirational. Something to build a song upon and something that expresses emotion. The moment she laid eyes on those small but lovingly created sculptures, she knew that this stallion, old as he may be, knew his way around wood and emotions.
"Well, miss...?" She blinked. Then gasped in realization.
"Oh my, I'm terribly sorry! I'm Torch Song and you are?"
"Burnt Oak at yer service." The stallion made a small bow. It made Torch blush slightly. "What kind of woodworking are ya looking for?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm not entirely creative, you know, and I need some inspiration. Pardon me, you probably need the whole context, let me start again. I'm a singer, one of the singers in the Ponytones, but recently I got a message from my sponsor saying to meet him here. I'm supposed to have a debut song in order to get my name up there, and that therein, lies my problem. I cannot, for the life of me, come up with anything remotely interesting. And then I saw you and your wood pieces! I'm certain that you are the key to my success!" She panted hard, not realizing that she spoke so fast and attempted to regain her breath.
"Yer gonna make a colt blush with all that praise. Ya sure that's for me?" He chuckled, a hoof rubbing the back of his head. He opened his mouth again, but before a word could come out, the waiter returned with the menus.
"My apologies for the delay, there was a slight disturbance in the kitchen. What can I get you?" The stallion whipped out a notepad and pencil with his magic and stared expectantly.
"May I perhaps, have a bottle of wine? As well as a jam pastry, it doesn't matter which." She closed her menu with a satisfied smile. Jam pastries are always satisfying, at least in her opinion.
"Very good, and you sir?"
"Do ya have an apple fritter?"
"Yes, we do."
"I'll have that."
"Very good." The two watched as the waiter strutted away before turning back to each other. She smiled softly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension between them, at least, the tension she thought was there. He smiled in response after a few moments and that made it all the better.
"Yes, from what I have seen, you are worthy of such praise." She allowed conviction and determination to seep into her voice and watched as the stallion before her process what she was trying to say.
"So, ya want me, to work on a wood piece for ya, am I getting that right?" Ah, so he was catching on. Torch was pleased, there has been a few on occasion where she had dealings with less than competent ponies. It made her appreciate Burnt even more.
"Yes." Was there anything else that needed to be said? She sure hoped not.
"Well miss, it seems we need to be a talking. What are ya looking for? I know ya said anything, but anything truly is a wide variety, anything to keep it at a minimum?" She as impressed at the way he held himself and his vocabulary. If he wasn't as old as he was, she might've fallen for him. Then gasped internally at the thought, he was like old enough to be her grandpa!
"Oh, I don't know. Like I said earlier, I barely have a creative process. I always relied on...Rarity and...and the others." Her ears wilted and so did her expression. She didn't care if Burnt saw her like this, she was disheartened and close to tears. This talk, with a stallion she barely knew even, had opened her eyes in a most unkind way. Perhaps she should quit and spare herself the bits and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Mister Oak, it seems I have wasted your time. Please, let me pay to compensate."
"Ya said Rarity earlier, did ya not?"
"...yes?" Torch was confused. He didn't seem disappointed or angry, in fact it was the opposite, the old stallion was grinning! "Are you alright?"
"Missus, when is yer deadline?" He was grinning wide. Normally she would be concerned for her safety, but something in those eyes stopped her from backing away.
"Er, in two days. Why?"
"Come back to my stall before yer appointment. I'll have yer wood piece done by then."
***
Burnt Oak was excited, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while. Perhaps it was because he was doing something new, or maybe because of the nice pretty mare who had ordered a second apple fritter in gratitude. Whatever the case, he couldn't wait to go home and start working.
After the meal, he said his goodbyes and hobbled to the train station as fast as his knees would let him and got on. He had to pay a bit more for his ticket than normal due to a late arrival but it was worth it. The idea was there, right there in his mind, of what he was going to carve. Actually, it was more of a beginning of an idea, he first needed to visit a certain fashionista to confirm what he was thinking. He chuckled much to the confusion of a mare sitting nearby. He made no effort to convince her that he wasn't crazy.
The entire train trip, he kept his thoughts in constant motion. Flowers, butterflies, hats, laurel wreaths, et cetera. He let the boring trip become a place for ideas to fester. The more and more elaborate and beautiful the ideas became, the more excited he was. When the train finally stopped, his excitement was reduced to bouncing in place with a crazed grin. The mare who was sitting nearby had moved when the smile started to form. Burnt didn't mind.
The doors opened and he galloped out. His joints ached and his back hurt like Tartarus, but he was too excited. Night was falling but Burnt had trotted these streets far too many times to have completely memorized them. The empty cobblestone and dirt streets were filled with rapid if not uneven hoofsteps. He ran up to a boutique, Carousel Boutique to be exact, and knocked rapidly. He had to wait several seconds but to him it felt like minutes from the adrenaline. The door opened.
"Oh, and you...?"
"Miss Rarity! I have a very important question." The white unicorn in front of him had the most surprised expression on her face. It would've been funny, but Burnt had no time for humor. He did have the right of mind to notice the fasionista's younger sister looking at him with an equally baffled expression.
"Question? Ah...first, may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" Rarity tried to reorient herself. Burnt had seen it enough times, the tick in her eyes, the deep breaths, and the strained smile.
"My apologies, miss Rarity, I am Burnt Oak. But who I am doesn't matter. Do ya perhaps have the lyrics to your song with the other Ponytones? It is very important!" He was struggling. It was cold outside and his aches from the run was catching up with him. Not to mention his ragged breath from running his mouth. He must've looked crazy with that determined and haunted look, at least that's what he thought. He smiled tentatively.
"The Ponytones? What...I'm sorry, I am very confused. Why is this important? And do you know what time it is!? I was about to do my nightly routine and then you barge in and...!" Ah, there was the Rarity Burnt knew, but he didn't have time for this.
"It's for Torch Song. Without this, she won't have a debut song." He interrupted as loudly without being loud as he dared. The unicorn looked aghast and then the words started processing. Her mouth turned into an oh.
"Give me a sec, darling." It was ten minutes, he should know, he counted. For the first half he waited patiently. The second half he was pacing. There was a noise and then a (somewhat) polite cough. He whirled around and stared at the white mare. She smiled that tight smile and dropped parchments in front of him.
"Here you go, darling. Now if you would please, leave and don't ever return at this hour!" The door to the boutique slammed shut. Burnt was already gone before it fully closed. He had the papers in his mouth and he treated it with as much care as he could as he raced home.
He went to his workshop the moment he came home and hauled wood to his chopping block. He cast the music papers on a desk with a lamp and a box of snacks. He turned around and grabbed his tools, both of carving and chopping. Making sure his hat was on right he got to reading the lyrics and notes. He pored over every word and detail, the intensity was enough to melt butter.
After the idea was solidified, he got to work. First prepare the wood, then start designing the design with pencil, and then carve. He worked and ate, drank and then worked. A small break here, work there, a quick now, and then later, more work. It was a continuous cycle it was with Burnt, but he did it. The entire night, he worked, but it was worth it. It was perfect and he couldn't wait to show it to her.
***
Torch Song was anxious, a feeling she was getting accustomed to. She paced the hotel's halls much to the other residents' annoyances. Today was the day and Burnt hasn't come yet. Her thoughts were completely muddled, ideas were draining down into a ditch, the simple idea of doing something was so tiring. Then before she knew it, there was a knock at the door. A note slipped through the crack and she read it before it hit the ground. It took a single minute for her to gather her necessities and go out the door.
She met with him at the same cafe. There was a large log covered in a sheet with him. Her heart beat faster, her smile growing ever wider the closer she got. He saw her after a few minutes and he rose to greet her. Together they sat back down and ordered, their orders not deviating from last time. She studied him and saw heavy bags under his eyes but the happy smile. She could only assume she looked the same. Perhaps this meeting of these two was destined.
"Miss Song."
"Mister Oak."
"I have it." He heaved the log up onto the table much to the annoyance of the waitresses, but they did nothing to stop it so Burnt continued. He placed it down carefully and made a big show of removing the sheet. She stared with her mouth growing ever so wider. The sheet uncovering the art slowly but surely and then without warning, it was completely gone. She gasped, he smiled anxiously, they stared together.
"It's beautiful." The log depicted a beautiful landscape. The sun was shining down a forest with a river down below. A large meadow filled with flowers. The entire thing was covered in music notes of different sizes and shapes. It was exactly what she was picturing when she was singing, it filled her heart and lyrics started pouring into her head and soon it was overfilled. She smiled warmly and before she could hold herself back, she launched herself forwards and hugged him tightly.
"I'm taking that as ya like it?"
"I love it! It's helped me immensely, I am forever in your debt. Can you come to my performance, it would help me a lot."
"Sure." She squealed happily and he couldn't help but laugh. Torch smiled with joy as her thoughts finally formed into a single song that entirely encapsulated what she felt in that moment. It was perfect and she couldn't wait to show it to him.
Author's Note
HAHA, it's done!
Sorry, I wanted this out much sooner but my life was sucked up into a track n field tournament. Phooey was it tense, but it's done now. Yay!
Anyway, hoped you enjoyed!
