Taking A Job For Granite

Chapters

Hitting Rock Bottom
Sleeping Like a Rock
Rock Hard Abs
School of Hard Rocks
Pass the Rock Salt - An Interlude Over Lunch
Rocky Relations
Between a Rock and a Hot Plate
Rockupational Training - An Interlude into Trixie's Past

Hitting Rock Bottom

Chapter 1 - Hitting Rock Bottom

“A rock farm?!”

Dotted Line closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his hoof. Last week, he'd been perfectly relaxed on a white, sandy beach in the Fillyppines. Massaging his temple, he wondered if he had any of that special cider left in his cabinet. A session with Trixie always set his nerves on edge. As his heart palpitations began, Dotted Line drew a ragged, steadying breath and pushed the listing back across the table.

“Trixie, doll, you gotta see the opportunity here!” he said, grinning. That winning smile had won the contracts of Arnold Swarzeneighgar and Pony Bennett, and he trusted in its ability to win his toughest client over. “This is an untapped market. Croupersville is under-represented in the entertainment industry.”

“Do you take the Great and Powerful Trixie for a fool?” Trixie replied, crossing her legs tightly across her chest and glaring at her agent. “It’s ‘under-represented’ because there is nothing there!” Picking up the listing again, she tapped it lightly with a hoof. “Besides, it says here they need a ‘Day Laborer’. The Great and Powerful Trixie does not do labor. She also does not do days.”

“Doll, look at the bigger picture,” Dotted Line replied, eyeing the clock. It was already a half an hour past five o’ clock, but Trixie seemed determined to stay. “Sure, they’ll be expecting a laborer, but they’re gonna change their tunes when you roll up with that cart and blow their socks off!” He tried his winning smile again, while Trixie turned over the listing, hoping for any additional information she might have missed the first twelve times she had read it. “You’ll be breaking into a whole new territory!” His smile faltered as Trixie rose to her feet in front of him. Dotted Line shrank back into his chair as she loomed over him.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not want to break open new markets! She wants to see her name in lights in Manehattan and Hoss Angeles! Her star burns brightly, and it must shine in the grandest venues!” Slamming her hooves down on his day planner, she thrust her face inches from his own. “Where are the real offers?!”

“They are probably back in Ponyville!” Dotted Line growled. He had put up with Trixie’s attitude when she was pulling in the bits, but enough was enough. “I think you might have accidentally left them behind when you were busy destroying your credibility!” Trixie gasped, flinching from her agent, but Dotted Line came on relentlessly. Circling his desk, he flexed his tawny wings. It was long past the point when he should have been flying home. As Dotted Line paced behind her, Trixie sagged slowly back into her chair. “I had plenty of offers on the table before you let Princess Celestia’s protégé completely outclass you in front of a huge crowd!”

“But The Great and Powerful Trixie didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant to duel her or not, doll!” Dotted Line grabbed Trixie's chin and forced her head up, nailing her to her seat with his piercing gaze. “The truth is, you’re damaged goods. I’ve farmed your name out to every club, convention, and faire in Equestria. No bites. Face it, doll. You’re washed up.” He released Trixie’s chin and she quickly turned away, determined not to let him see her cry. As her body began to shake, Dotted Line rolled his eyes and collapsed back into his chair.

“So… so it’s all o-over?” Trixie said between hiccupping sniffles.

“Let me level with you, Trixie. You’ve got ambition. You’ve got looks. You’ve got pizzazz. But you’ve got no heart. You see all these guys?” Dotted line swept his leg around the room and Trixie scanned the faces of Equestria’s most famous celebrities. “They got one thing in common. They’re people ponies. You, you love the fame, but you don’t love that audience. Until you get that love in your heart, you’re B-list at best and Z-list right now.”

Standing again, Dotted Line pushed the listing back across the desk and tapped the signature line with his hoof. “I’ve combed through the entertainment jobs for something for you and I’ve got nothing. You can’t cook. You won’t clean. I’ve tried to book you for motivational speaking on a ‘Your Life Is A Total Disaster But At Least You Aren’t Me’ tour, but the organizer said even they have some standards. When I say this is it, doll, I mean this is it.”

So it’s come to this, Trixie thought, slowly rolling Dotted Line’s pen between her hooves. The tiny diamonds on the cap twinkled as they caught the light, reminding Trixie of the bold flashes from the fireworks display she had once launched nightly from her cart. It’s all her fault! That Twilight Sparkle! The mere thought of her hated rival sent magic arcing from her horn straight into Dotted Line’s chest, leaving a small scorch mark. Distracted by the clock that he always seemed to be watching when she came in, he absently scratched at the light singe. That irritated her even more. How dare he ignore my power?! I’ll show them all! I’ll show them that I am the greatest performer Equestria has ever seen! Snatching the paper up, Trixie pretended to peruse the details again.

“Trixie has noticed a few particulars that she missed in her first reading,” Trixie said, running a hoof nonchalantly through her mane. “She finds this acceptable.” With a flourish, she signed her name to the bottom. Dotted Line pushed a large, green button on his intercom and it cracked to life.

“Yes, Mr. Line?” a tinny voice called out.

“Meadow, could you please collect this contract and send word along to...” Dotted Line twisted the contract back to him, squinting at it, “Mr. Pie?”

“At once, Mr. Line.” Trixie screwed the top back onto her mineral water and pushed it into her bag.
“Trixie should be off. Please arrange for her travel.”

“No can do,” Dotted Line replied, grimacing at the clock. “Travel expenses aren’t included.” Halfway through gathering her things, Trixie stopped and gaped at him.

“But how is The Great and Powerful Trixie to arrive at this ‘Rocky Road Farm’?”

“Doll, unless you have a better idea,” Dotted Line said, ushering Trixie outside, “I’d say by hoof.” Trixie winced as he slammed the door shut behind her. Taking a moment to straighten her hat, she thrust her nose high into the air as she made her way down the steps and onto the street, pretending not to see the passers-by who had stopped to see what the commotion was about.

Rocky Road Farm, prepare to be amaz—oh! Trixie gasped as she tumbled forward into a puddle of mud, her legs tangled in the spokes of a stagecoach wheel that had been left lying in the road. A grease-smeared stallion scurried out from beneath the broken axle of a nearby carriage. After wiping his hooves on his flank, he scooped up Trixie’s hat as he trotted over.

“Say, yous gotta be more careful, yeah?” he said, trying to vigorously shake the mud from her hat. Trixie waved him away as the mud rained down on her.

“Ugh! Give me that!” Trixie snapped, snatching her hat from the stallion and thrusting it back onto her head. She tried to ignore the rivulets of dirty water running down both sides of her face as she attempted to pry her stuck hoof from between the spokes.

“Yous betta let me help yous wit’ dat, lady,” the stallion said, grabbing her leg. Trixie cried in pain as he wrenched her hoof back and forth, grunting.

“Away, simpleton! Watch in amazement as The Great and Powerful Trixie dazzles you with her magical might! Begone, wheel! Trixie commands you!” Trixie’s chest swelled as she gathered her strength. Aiming her horn, she discharged a brightly glowing ball of pure magical energy at the wheel.

“Uh, lady—”

The ball hit the wheel, and it began twitching. Trixie’s eyes watered as it wrenched her hoof painfully as it tried to roll away.

“Ow!” Trixie whined, prying at the spokes. “Stop staring and help me!” With a shout, the stallion slammed his hoof into the wheel, shattering it. Trixie squealed in surprise and shielded her eyes from the flying splinters with a hoof, leaving a muddy, horseshoe-shaped stain on her forehead.

“About time!” Trixie said, drawing herself up with as much dignity as she could muster. Trying to ignore the mud dripping from her nose, she turned into the breeze, hoping to get it to catch her cape in a dramatic fashion. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has better things to do than play with you in the mud. Now, away with you!”

“Gee, lady, yous could be nicer, ya’ know. Now I gotta charge yous for dat wheel yous had me break.” Trixie’s eyes grew wide.

“Charge me for the wheel?! But I don’t have any… I mean, The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t handle such trivial details. Speak with her agent.” Quickening her pace, Trixie tried to ignore the snickers of the ponies who had stopped to watch the unfolding events. Just wait, all of you. In one week, Trixie rises again! You will be begging for the opportunity to wipe the mud from my hooves!

Author's Note

Special thanks to Metool Bard, Loeden, Statoose, Dragonas77, Admujica, and RazerWrites for their help proofreading and their opinions on this story.

Sleeping Like a Rock

Chapter 2 – Sleeping Like a Rock

Curse these winding country roads! Trixie thought, straining against the harness of her carriage. Didn’t anypony ever teach these bumpkins how to draw a straight line? She’d been walking for days and every hooffall on the hard-packed dirt road sent a jolt of pain into her back. Her usually stylish mane was hanging in lank strands, filled with sweat and dust. Ooh, Dotted Line is going to regret this.

Cresting the next of this region’s seemingly endless hills, Trixie stopped and allowed herself a sigh of relief. Finally, she had arrived. In the valley below her, a path led off the main road. Above it, a depressing grey on grey sign reading ‘Rocky Road Farm’ swung reluctantly in the light breeze. With each oscillation, a thin squeal drifted from the sign’s hinges, setting Trixie’s teeth on edge.

From the Canterlot Royal Theatre to this. Trixie slowly rotated her head, taking in the view. In the fading light of the early evening, the land was shockingly bleak. It was as if somepony had come through and purposefully extracted the color from the world. Everything was a grey tonal variant. Even her brilliant blue coat was muted as the color struggled to show through the layers of dirt she had kicked up. Well, there’s nothing for it, she thought, reluctantly forcing the cart into motion again. The sooner I amaze the fools that live here, the sooner I can get my spotlight back.

---

I guess they weren’t kidding about the rocks, Trixie thought, eyeing her surroundings with distaste. The path wound through several fenced-in fields full of nothing but stones of varying size. With a sigh, Trixie finally let go of the notion that ‘rock farm’ might be some sort of colloquialism for playhouse or amphitheatre. The grim path had finally led her to an equally grim farmhouse, and in front of it, a grim-looking, grey-whiskered pony studying a line of rocks before him. As he heard the approaching cart, he lifted his head and gave her a cool glance, repositioning his pipe to better facilitate a frown.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived!” Trixie belted out in ringing tones. “You are advised to keep your hooves firmly beneath your chin. For otherwise, your jaw will surely hit the ground. Behold as Trixie—”

“You’ll be needin’ a pipe,” the stallion interrupted, scanning her from top to bottom. Nonplussed, Trixie tried to find the thread of logic.

“I, uh… what?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. The stallion removed his pipe from his mouth, pointing at it.

“A. Pipe,” he said with exaggerated slowness. “We find a nice pipe keeps the mouth busy. It keeps the talkin’ to a minimum.” The stallion came over and solemnly took her hoof, giving it a subdued shake before dropping it again. “I’ll assume you’re the new day laborer, since your name is Trixie. I’m Humble Pie, and this is my farm,” Humble said, pointing his pipe towards the various highlights. “That there is the South Field. We raise rocks there. Over there is the West Field. It also has rocks.” Trixie rolled her eyes and unhitched the harness to her cart.

“Rocks should not concern you for the next hour, sir!” Trixie cried, opening the small compartment on her carriage that held her spare hat and cape. “Before you stands Equestria’s greatest purveyor of the eldritch arts! Trixie the Magnificent! Behold!”

The adrenaline rush of the show began to course through Trixie, and she hit the hidden button beneath the cart that made it come to life. Humble’s eyes widened as the cart unfolded. Suddenly the grey terrain around them was illuminated with the lights and sounds of Trixie’s well-rehearsed show. Her horn glowed brightly as she gathered her magical strength.
“Now, please direct your attention—”

“See here, young lady!” Humble growled, his eyebrows bunching together. “I’ll thank you to put a stop those lights and whizbangs. They’ve no place on my farm.” Trixie’s mouth fell open as she studied the stallion.

H-he’s serious! Trixie thought. She could feel the heat rising up her neck and across her face as she blushed brightly. Even here! she thought furiously. Even here where no one has heard of me, I’m rejected! She firmly clamped her jaw together, determined not to cry she pressed the button again and watched the cart fold in on itself.

“Now,” Humble began, “I can see you’re not too learned about rocks, but they’re a sensitive bunch. All of your loud talkin’ and lights and whatall else scares ‘em.”

“I’m scaring the rocks?” Trixie said, curling her lip into a sneer.

“Oh, ayuh,” Humble said. “These are organic rocks. We grow them in controlled environments. Government regulations, you know.” He picked up one of the stones from the line he had been examining. “You see this beauty?” he said, thrusting it into Trixie’s face. “Grade A limestone with a layer of rose quartz running through it!” Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply. “Ayuh, packed full of minerals, this one is.” he sighed, nodding. Trixie’s head began to throb.

“All rocks are packed full of minerals,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “They’re made of minerals.”

“Oh, sure enough,” Humble replied mildly, biting lightly on the stone. “Low quality, ordinary minerals, but at Rocky Road Farm, we believe a better environment makes for better rocks.” Humble took off his wide-brimmed hat and held it solemnly over his heart. “For generations, my family has worked to raise Equestria’s finest stones in a responsible and sustainable settin’, and I believe the results speak for themselves, eh?” He turned the rock over, displaying its every contour to Trixie. “A truly fine one, this, but we can’t have your nonsense here. It disrupts the process.” Leaning away from the farmer, Trixie found herself scanning the shadows.

This is some sort of joke, she thought. A publicity stunt. Any second how, Dotted Line is going to jump out with the press and we are all going to have a big laugh. I’ll just play along for now. “Oh, yes,” Trixie breathed theatrically. “The Great and Powerful Trixie can see that this is the finest rock she has ever laid eyes on!” Warming to the performance, Trixie stood on her hind legs, thrust her front legs high into the air. “For it takes a star to know a star, and Trixie is the brightest star—”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Humble said, nodding. “The rocks like it when you talk to ‘em in third person. Gives ‘em an open feeling. Kind of, well, community-ish, if you know what I mean. Follow me, please.”

Left standing alone in front of her cart, Trixie found that, no, she had no idea what he meant. Irritated that he had the temerity to walk off in the middle of her soliloquy, she followed reluctantly.

Humble stopped in front of a weather-beaten barn that was as grey as everything else on the farm.Trixie had taken to examining her own dirty hooves every few minutes to remind herself that color existed.

“Well, this is the start of the operation, so it’s where you’ll begin,” he said, struggling with the heavy bar that extended across the door. “We keep it locked up tight to keep out the predators.” Confused, Trixie opened her mouth to speak, but was forced to trot quickly after Humble as he ducked into the barn. Inside, he retrieved a small lantern from a nail on a wall and cupped her ear with a hoof. “Quiet now,” he whispered. “These rocks are the most sensitive.”

“What rocks?” hissed Trixie, trying to penetrate the gloom of the barn. She could barely see her hoof in front of her face.

“Patience,” Humble replied, striking a piece of flint and steel together repeatedly. Finally, a spark caught the wick and the lantern issued a feeble glow. “Ah, that’s done it. Now, look.” Humble walked into the barn’s inner recesses, holding the lantern high above his head. Curious in spite of herself, Trixie followed. Emerging from the darkness, she could see rows and rows of tiny, four-poster beds no wider than her hooves. “These are the bed rocks,” Humble murmured to her from behind a hoof.

“Really?” Trixie replied coolly, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, ayuh,” he replied. “Little rocks need lots of rest if they’re going to grow up strong.” He continued down the row, adjusting the tiny comforters on a few of the small rocks to more properly cover them. Trixie tried to pierce the barn’s murky atmosphere, hoping against hope that she would see Dotted Line’s smiling face waiting for her.

This pony is either yanking my chain or mentally unstable, Trixie thought, throwing her hooves up in disgust. Enough of this. There must be other work. Squinting in the darkness, she turned back toward the crack of light from the partially opened barn door. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has a tight schedule and she regrets that she must be off. Please send along your payment to the agency.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, miss,” Humble said over his shoulder. “You see, you are contracted for a week of service until my wife returns from the Hoofington Rock Roundup. Since the kids are grown and gone, she’s the only help I have.” As Humble began to make his way back to Trixie, she found her mouth suddenly dry. Below the soft light of the lantern, Humble’s stoic, unyielding expression spoke volumes.

This man truly doesn’t know who I am! Trixie thought, her heart racing. He actually means to make me do manual labor!

“You might be wonderin’ if I mean to make you do manual labor,” Humble said, bending over and listening to one of the stones. “Heh. Little imp. He’s snorin’.” He carefully turned the rock over. “There you go, little one.” Tucking the blanket back around the stone, he fixed his eye on Trixie. “And yes, I do.” Flipping her hair, Trixie turned back toward the barn door once again.

“There has been a misunderstanding,” Trixie said with a disdainful sniff. “Trixie has been sent to amaze and confound, not haul rocks around.”

“Oh, don’t make that face. I read up on your abilities when you signed up for the job. It’s your skills I’m needin’.”

Trixie felt the tension begin to drain from her body. Finally, this was beginning to make some kind of sense. Of course Dotted Line wouldn’t have given her a job hauling rocks. Laughing to herself, Trixie dusted herself off.

“Well, then. Which of Trixie’s vast powers do you call upon?” she asked, illuminating her horn. She knew from countless hours in front of her full length mirror that this made the stars and moons on her costume shimmer and dance, dazzling the audience before she had even begun. “Are there boulders to be reduced to pebbles? Shall Trixie astound you with—” Trixie’s horn went out as Humble turned and ambled off into a dark corner. “Hey, are you listening? What is it that you require?” she demanded.

“Your agent said you’re a fair hoof at pullin’ a cart,” Humble answered, motioning in the corner. To Trixie’s dismay, it contained an ancient covered wagon. It was, of course, grey.

“You’re not serious! You can’t be!” Trixie sputtered, backing away. Humble hung his lantern on a metal pole attached to the harness and began working on adjusting the straps.

“Well, I wasn’t serious once. My daughter, bless her heart, she threw us a ‘party’. Darnedest thing I’ve ever seen. Ah, there,” Humble said, working the dried leather out of its rusted buckle. “It gets stiff with sweat, you know. Hard to work with. If that happens to you, just spit on it some and it will loosen up.” Trixie’s knees began to feel weak. “Anyway, we thanked her most kindly, but I had to put my hoof down when she tried it again. That kind of silly behavior just doesn’t have a place here. Not with rocks.” Humble fixed her with an eye and scowled. “Now come here, miss.”

“No,” Trixie squealed. “I’m Trixie the Magnificent! I’m known across Equestria!”

“You’re goin' to be known across Equestria as Trixie the Faithless unless you hold true to your contract.” He held the harness out to her. “Now, do you want me to have to send word out that you welched on your job?” Trixie slowly walked forward, her eyes filling with furious tears.

I will never forget this! she thought, snatching the harness away and fitting it around her body. When I climb back to the top, this horrible stallion will pay. They’ll all pay!

“Now, see, that wasn’t so bad. Down that first aisle, please,” Humble said, trotting toward the beds. Trixie shot him a glance filled with loathing, but he had already started off. She strained against the harness, gritting her teeth as the straps bit into her skin.

“What do you have in this thing?” she whined. “It weighs a ton!”

“Get movin’ a little faster and it’ll be apparent.” Sighing, Trixie quickened her pace, but jumped as a discordant jangle erupted from the back of the wagon. “No, no,” Humble said, shaking his head. “The speed’s got to be just so. Otherwise, the lullaby doesn’t play right.” Trixie curled her lip as she passed the farmer, varying her speed to try and get some sort of melody from the contraption.

“You brought the greatest entertainer Equestria has ever known here to play lullabies for your rocks?!”

“No,” Humble returned, peeking inside the wagon as she passed. “I brought you here to play lullabies for my rocks.” He retracted his head and fixed her with a stern gaze. “Now, you’ll need to walk up and down these aisles until all these little rocks get nice and sleepy.” Trixie stopped, stomping a hoof.

“But you already said they were asleep!”

“I said one of ‘em was asleep! The rest of ‘em are just sittin’ there, gettin’ cranky as we chew the scenery away.”

Surely there must be some way out of this. Some authority over contracts. This pony has clearly lost his mind decades ago. Trixie had never felt so lost before. Even after her series of humiliations following her show in Ponyville, she had at least been working in her craft. How did I end up here? she thought, wiping her tired eyes with her least dirty hoof.

“Miss, I know you’ve had a long day, so I’ve chosen an easy chore to start us off,” Humble said, not unkindly. “You just soothe my little rocks to sleep here and then we’ll head off to bed ourselves.”

Bed! That’s it! Trixie thought, perking up. I’ll sneak away at night and find the authorities. One look at this place and they’ll authorize my release! Flipping her hair to the other side of her face, she glanced back at Humble. His eyebrows shot up as she gave him a winning smile. “Of course. The Great and Powerful Trixie loves rocks. Nothing would please her more than to see them sleeping peacefully.”

“Well, that’s fine. Just fine,” Humble said, solemnly nodding his head. “I’ll be walkin’ behind you with the water.” Trixie bit down on her tongue as he opened a cabinet and brought out a tray of tiny glasses. Filling them from a nearby spigot, he set the tray in the bed of the wagon. “Now, just go slow, but not too slow. Moderately slow to sub-fast-ish, I’d say.”

Groaning, Trixie leaned into the straps and the wagon lurched forward again. As she picked up speed, the song from the cart began to change. What had sounded initially like a set of bells being hurled violently down a very long staircase now became something beautiful. Despite herself, Trixie found herself smiling gently and humming along, until the harness dragged her forcefully to the left.

“Steady there,” Humble said as Trixie jumped to avoid one of the beds. “You’re goin’ to need to keep a sharp line. Tight quarters in here, after all.” Trixie gritted her teeth and turned to meet his eye.

“It’s your cart!” she snapped. “Trixie was doing her usual amazing job, when it twisted to the side for no reason!” Humble set down another tiny glass of water on a nearby rock’s end table.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he returned as he moved to the next rock. “It’s for a very good reason. See, my wife has a limp from a nasty rock bite a few years ago. That cart is designed to compensate for it.”

“A rock bite?” Trixie asked, trying to wrestle the cart back into the center of the aisle.

“Oh, ayuh,” Humble answered, his gaze growing unfocused as he recalled the incident. “She was plantin’ in the east field when a stampede of wild rocks came chargin' down the mountain. She ran, but one of ‘em bit her, and her ankle just hasn’t ever been quite the same.” Trixie slapped a hoof over her face and briefly ground her teeth from side to side.

“So there was a landslide?” she asked, rubbing her temples. Humble scowled, pulling his pipe out of his mouth to point at her.

“Did I say it was a landslide?!” he barked. “That’s rocks a-playing! This was an attack!” Humble swept the weathered hat from his head, throwing it to the ground. “I’ve worked the rock fields for forty years, filly! You think I don’t know friendly rocks from aggressive ones?”

Trixie shrank back from the stallion’s sudden, intense fury. As her gaze swept around the barn, she was acutely aware of how isolated she was here with this madman. Smiling and batting her eyelashes, Trixie offered him a small curtsy that was only slightly hampered by her harness.

“Never in a million years, sir!” Trixie purred. “Trixie was merely joking. She had hoped a bit of levity would help move the night along.” Humble retrieved his hat, dusting it off. Setting it back on his head, he frowned, smothering Trixie’s charm with his cool gaze.

“Miss, movin’ that cart is what will move the night along, so get movin’,” he said, gathering a hoofful of glasses. “And mind the wheel. Every fourth rotation at speed, it pulls left, so you’ll need to go right.”

“Why don’t you just adjust the wheel?!” Trixie said, exasperated. Humble shook his head, slowly, and pushed on the back of the cart to prod it into motion.

“That there is a precision instrument. No tellin’ what would happen if we fooled with it. Plus, change spooks the little ones, here.” Giving up, Trixie heaved the heavy wagon into motion again, throwing herself to the right every fourth step and cursing the day she signed with Dotted Line.

Never again! Trixie thought, wiping the streaming sweat from her face. Outside the barn, the cool night air helped to refresh her, but nothing could distract from the painful stitch in her side or the raw patches on her chest where the straps had rubbed her skin from blue to pink. That stupid cart and its stupid wheel! Never again! Tonight, I escape this madhouse.

Humble closed the barn door and pounded Trixie on the back, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

“Well, it took us some extra time, but now the little rocks can sleep soundly,” he said, yawning widely. “Let me show you to your room.” Picking herself back up, Trixie rolled her eyes.

If this idiot thinks I’m letting him lock me in that filthy house, he can think again. Dragging her hooves with weariness, Trixie walked slowly back to her trailer. “Oh, no,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn of her own. “Trixie wouldn’t dream of imposing. The trailer has all the comforts she is accustomed to.”

“Suit yourself, I suppose,” Humble returned, shrugging. Turning to make his way, he gave Trixie a casual wave. “See you bright and early. Lots more to do tomorrow.” Trixie forced herself to give him a cheerful wave in return.

Oh, I’ll be up bright and early, Humble. Bright and early and on my way to escape this madness.

Rock Hard Abs

Trixie tried to roll out of bed, but gasped as she swung her legs down to the floor. It felt as though somepony had stabbed her in the ribs with a hot butter knife. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hooves against her side and silently cursed Humble and his stupid lullaby cart.

That ignorant farmer! He’s not just moronic. He’s downright dangerous. When I let the authorities in on this place, they’ll probably commit him! Steeling herself, Trixie hopped off the bed and placed a steadying hoof on her trailer wall. The pink strips of skin where the harness had rubbed her raw burned as she moved. It felt like she had been branded.

Trixie stretched a few times, trying to loosen up the cramping muscle in her side. It was slow going, but eventually she was able to both stretch to the ceiling and bend down to touch her back hooves. Twisting carefully around, Trixie checked the clock. It was two in the morning.

Perfect! she thought, rubbing her hooves together. While the hayseed is snoring away, I’ll run to town and bring back the police. Trixie quickly glanced out the window. Trixie feared it would be too dark to make the road out, but the stars and the waxing moon shed ample light. Glancing at the nearby farmhouse, she grinned. All of its lights were out. Time to go. I hope you're ready for some company, Humble. When I get back with the cops, you’re going from the rock farm to the funny farm.

Trixie carefully turned the knob on her trailer door and walked slowly down her steps, carefully avoiding the one that squeaked. The night was so still that each step that she took seemed like a thunderclap. Her eyes darting back and forth, Trixie tip-toed around the trailer.

“Well, hello there!”

Trixie screamed, jumping into the air. As she had rounded the trailer, she had nearly run into Humble, who was polishing a large boulder with a rag. As she landed, her rear legs collapsed and she sat down hard. Massaging her chest, she gulped down a few steadying breaths. It felt like her heart was beating at four times its normal rate.

“Careful now,” Humble said, dipping his rag in a large tub of ‘Rock Wax’. “I’d be much obliged if you’d watch the noise. The little rocks are a-sleepin', you know.” He began vigorously rubbing a section of the boulder until it gleamed.

“Wha-what are you d-doing up?” Trixie asked, still feeling a little light-headed.

“What’s it look like?” he answered, squinting at the rock. He applied a little more wax and rubbed at a dull section. “Chores.”

“At two in the morning?!” Trixie exclaimed, goggling at him. “We just went to bed a few hours ago!” Humble stopped, turning to her with a hoof on his hip.

“That’s right,” he returned. “A pony's mind teems with unseemly thoughts when the body gets too much rest. Here on the farm, we shoot for about three hours a night. It keeps dreams to a manageable minimum.” Suddenly, he squinted at Trixie, slowly moving his pipe back and forth in his mouth. “So, what are you doin' up, hmmm?”

“Oh, well, Trixie was, um…” Trixie said, lowering her ears as she cringed away from the farmer’s scrutiny. That miserable old toad! He was waiting for me! she thought. Trying to adopt an air of casual nonchalance, Trixie dusted herself off and ran a hoof through her hair. “Oh, The Great and Powerful Trixie read somewhere that farmers are early risers, so she thought she’d surprise you. But she supposes the joke is on her!” Trixie forced out a belly laugh, but quickly stopped as the sound came echoing back. In the stillness of the night, the echoing laughter seemed to change in pitch. As it returned, the laughter had a mocking quality. It sounded like the whole farm was laughing at her.

Humble arched an eyebrow, but said nothing further. Dipping his rag once again, he hummed softly as he returned to work on the boulder. Trixie closed her eyes and wondered how any one pony could be so mind-bogglingly dull.

He’s humming the same note. Just over and over, she thought. Well, at least a pony with so little imagination probably won’t wonder where I’m going if just casually wander off. Affecting a sudden interest in the farmhouse, Trixie began to trot off. She winced as Humble’s voice followed her.

“Well, since you’re up, miss, you can help me with Tom here.” Trixie hung her head as she wearily turned around and made her way back.

“You’ve named the rock?” she asked, snatching a rag from Humble and curling her lip at it when he turned away.

“Of course not,” he replied, patting the rock. “He was already named Tom when he got here.” Trixie shook her head. There were just too many things wrong with that last sentence for her to get her mind around.

“What do you mean 'he was already named Tom when he got here'?” she said, her brow furrowing as she tried to make some sense of things. “Got here from where? Are you telling Trixie that some pony dropped off their pet rock for you to take care of?” Humble shook his head as he pulled out a small pick, scraping dirt from a small fissure in the rock’s surface.

“I came out this mornin' and he was just here,” he said, working the stubborn piece of dirt from the crevice. “Come outta there! Ah, that’s got it.” Trixie skipped out of the way as the dirt flew past her. “It happens sometimes. Rocks hear about the farm and they come by.”

“The rock just dropped by for a visit?” Trixie asked, rubbing the space between her eyes. She'd been up for less than an hour and she was already getting a headache.

“Don’t be foolish!” Humble snapped. “He’s not visitin'! He’s come to stay.” Humble patted the rock affectionately. “He’s lookin' for a better life. Sometimes rocks do that when they’ve experienced some trauma.”

“Then how do you know his name is Tom?” Trixie said, throwing her hooves up. She hated the farmer more with each passing minute of the conversation, but she had to admit that he was somewhat fascinating. He's like a living trainwreck, she thought. You just can't look away. If this is some act, it's a good one. He's totally dedicated to his delusions!

“Well,” Humble said after a long pause, “doesn’t he just look like a Tom to you?” As he polished the rock once again, Trixie could see her confused expression in the mirror-like reflection.

Gah, I'm a mess! she thought as she pulled a hoof through her fly-away hair. I should have just slept in. This conversation is like a nightmare, anyway.

“But that’s neither here nor there, miss,” Humble said, depositing the dirty rags in a nearby bin. As he lifted the lid, the bin let out a strong, acrid odor, and Trixie pinched her nose closed with a hoof. It reminded her of the hoof polish she used to use on stage, but several times more pungent.

“Ugh!” she gasped. “What is that?”

“Mineral spirits,” Humble said, clamping the lid back into place. “It’s the only thing that gets the wax out of the rags.” Fanning the air gently with his hat, he raised his head to look up at the moon. Trixie gagged as a cloud of the foul smelling vapors settled over her. “Nice that you’re up at a decent hour. May as well get started.” He trotted off toward a rickety outbuilding. Grumbling, Trixie followed.

A shiver went up Trixie’s spine as Humble tugged at the building’s ancient metal door. Covered in rust, the hinges were squealing in protest, setting Trixie’s teeth on edge. She took a few cautious steps away as Humble rammed his shoulder into the door, grunting as it opened foot by foot.

“Oof!” he grunted as he slammed into the door one last time. “I reckon I’ll have to replace these hinges soon.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s a terrible fright to growin' rocks to see shaped metal. It always causes an uproar. Those with some ore in 'em worry they could be next. The ones without just get swept up in the excitement.” Trixie scanned the farm, pointing incredulously at a nearby downspout.

“Trixie will probably regret asking, but what are you going on about?” Trixie tapped the metal door with a hoof. “Half of this farm is metal.” Humble nodded, brushing flakes of rust from his shoulder.

“Oh, ayuh. To be sure,” he said, walking into the building. “But it’s all old, you’ll notice. Weathered.” Trotting off to a far wall, he began to pull large, rubber mats from a neat pile. Stirring up huge clouds of dust, he began dragging them to the center of the room. “Well, I suppose you think that’s because I’m lazy,” he said, looking up at her suddenly with a fierce gleam in his eye.

“No,” Trixie said immediately, “You may be many things, but lazy isn’t one of them.” Tiresome, insane, and cruel might fit, though, she thought. Satisfied, Humble threw down the mats.

“Good of you to notice, miss,” he said, returning to grab another stack of mats. “Just spread those around evenly on the floor. Anyway, like I was saying, stones don’t like to see worked metal. It spooks 'em.” Sighing, Trixie threw the mats around as violently as she could manage. The loud whapping sound they made helped to drown out the old pony’s yammering. “They don’t notice the old fixtures so much, but new, shiny metal makes the rocks hard to work with. They shy away.”

“Then why don’t you just paint everything?” Trixie asked before clamping her mouth closed. Celestia’s grace, Trixie! she thought. Don’t encourage him! With a grunt, Humble picked up another load of mats. Balancing them on his back, he returned slowly.

“It doesn’t make any difference to the rocks,” he said. “They know what’s underneath. You can put on a Hearth’s Warming Eve sweater, but I’ll still know it’s you under there, understand?” Trixie slapped a hoof across her face, slowly pulling at the skin beneath her eye.

“If I say yes, will you stop talking about rocks?” Trixie growled as she dumped the mats in front of her.

“Probably not,” Humble replied. “Seems you don’t enjoy silence, and if I’m not talkin', then you're sure to start. I prefer intelligent conversation.” Trixie’s mouth dropped open, but Humble walked over to a massive, tarp-covered object before she could formulate a sufficiently stinging reply. Snarling, she kicked at the pile of mats.

Humble grabbed a corner of the tarp, tugging at it and fretting as it caught on something. Despite her irritation, Trixie glanced up to see what the old stallion was up to. Whatever was under the sheet of canvas was making a strange noise. As Humble pulled away the tarp, it revealed a large wheel, subdivided into twelve segments. As the wheel slowly revolved, pegs on the segment’s edges caused a rattling wooden arrow to oscillate back and forth. Trixie sighed and rolled her eyes as she examined the bizarre device. Each of the slices had been painted a different shade of grey. While Humble banged on a stubborn metal locker nearby, Trixie moved closer, reading each segment.

1 – High Jumps
2 – Rest
3 – Run in Place
4 – Rest
5 – Side Bends
6 – Rest
7 – Sit-ups
8 – Rest
9 – Lunges
10 – Rest
11 – Dead Lift
12 – Rest

Trixie's eyes traveled down from the wheel to the haphazardly arranged mats, and she sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose.

He’s going to put these rocks out and pretend to make them exercise, she thought. I have performed for royalty. I have been on hand for the launching of ships and the dedication of symphony halls. And now, I’m wasting my precious time and vast talent on—

“Ah, there we are!”

Trixie regretted turning back to Humble immediately. He was dressed in a grey leotard with grey leg warmers. He had even taken off his hat and replaced it with a headset style microphone. This is it, she thought. I’ve hit rock bottom. Seconds later, she grimaced. Now, I’VE got rocks on the brain!

Humble began a stretching routine, his joints popping loudly as he contorted his body in ways that Trixie didn’t believe possible for such an old stallion. Trixie wrinkled her nose and turned away as he spread his legs widely before her, stretching his groin.

“Miss, head outside and turn left,” he said, grunting and stretching. “When you round the corner, you’ll see a wheelbarrow with some young rocks in it. Just bring 'em on in and set 'em on their mats.”

Trixie decided that fading into the background was her best option. If she could keep Humble happily occupied in his fantasy, then she could just quietly stand in a corner until the day was done. Nodding, she made her way outside and retrieved the wheelbarrow. It was incredibly heavy, and she nearly tipped it over rounding the corner again. Lightly sweating, she groaned as she pushed it into the gym.

“Ayuh, that’s fine,” Humble said, walking over. He grabbed a rock and placed it in the center of a nearby mat. “Just distribute 'em around, miss.” Sighing, Trixie muscled a rock out the wheelbarrow and dumped it on the closest mat.

“Careful now,” Humble said, frowning at her. “No sudden movements. I can’t risk 'em gettin' a strained muscle at this stage of their development.”

“Okay, that’s it!” Trixie cried, tossing a rock roughly onto the mat before her. “Let’s get one thing straight! Trixie is not playing your game. Rocks don’t grow, they don’t care about loud noises, and they don’t have muscles! Trixie has generously allowed you these fantasies, but her patience has come to an end!” Trixie glared at the stallion, breathing hard.

“Oh, is that right?” he replied, poking her in the chest with a hoof. “If they don't grow, how does a rock appear in a field you plowed last year? If they don’t mind loud noises, why do they come chargin' down the mountains when you yell?” Humble scooped up one of the rocks and thrust it directly in front of her eyes. “And if they don’t have any muscles, why aren’t they flat as a griddle cake? Huh?!” He shook the rock back and forth for emphasis. “How do they hold up bridges and roofs?”

“Well, uh, that is…” Trixie sputtered, searching for a rational explanation.

“That’s what I thought,” Humble replied coolly. “Now get in position.”

Trixie trotted over to the wheel and tested its action. Pulling down on the pegs, it spun smoothly. As the arrow rattled, the wheel slowed, finally landing on ‘8 – Rest’.

“What are you about, filly?” Humble said, scratching behind his ear. Trixie spread her hooves wide at her sides.

“What else would Trixie do?”

“I’ll be spinnin' the wheel and leadin' the exercises,” Humble said, taking his place before the rows of mats. “I need you to get the rocks movin'.” He made a minute adjustment to the rock in front of him, rolling it into the middle of the mat. “Sometimes, they get lazy. It’s in their nature. They'll probably need a little motivation.”

“And what exactly does that entail?” Trixie growled through clenched teeth.

“Oh, not much,” Humble answered. “You'll just need to help 'em along. Just follow my lead and you’ll see.” Reaching out, Humble gave the wheel a spin. Rotating rapidly, it took several seconds to begin to slow. When it finally came to a rattling stop, it landed on ‘3 – Run in Place’. “Ah, here we go!” he said, picking up a rock and placing it on his back. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Trixie gently beat her head into a nearby wooden pillar as Humble began to run in place. There was no way she was getting involved in this lunacy. Shaking her head, she turned and marched off.

“Oh, miss,” said Humble. “I wouldn’t be so eager to leave, if I were you.” Trixie froze in place, wincing. Turning slowly around, she scowled. Humble held out her contract, tapping it lightly with a hoof. “Trixie the Perpetually Unemployed just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Trixie grunted as she lifted the heavy rock. Before her, the wheel was spinning, and the rattling sound made her head throb. She snorted out a small jet of steam from her nostrils as it landed on ‘9 – Lunges’. Groaning, she placed the rock on her back as she stepped out, bending at the knee.

“The wife and I developed this routine thirty years ago,” Humble said, panting. Trixie eyed his rock suspiciously. She decided it didn’t look nearly as heavy as hers. “She noticed that they were just layin' out in the sun, lazy as you please,” he continued. “We decided that strong rocks needed strong bodies, so I developed Calxthenics.” Humble shook his head vigorously in an attempt to keep his streaming sweat out of his eyes. “You’ll see! When the rocks are done, they’re so worn out, they just lay there on the floor! Heh!” With a final grunt, Humble returned to the center of his mat, shaking his legs out. “Okay, that’s done.” Trixie’s own legs were shaking so badly that she nearly collapsed. Breathing heavily, she watched Humble trot over to the wheel and send it spinning again. “Ha! Sit ups!” he cried as it stopped.

“Humble, please—” Trixie began, rubbing her burning legs.

“Ah-ah,” he said, adjusting his leg warmers. “Don’t be a bad example. It’s okay if you can’t do 'em all. Tryin' is the key.” Grumbling, Trixie laid on her back, wrapping her legs around the rock.

At least I’m not standing anymore, she thought. Ahead of her, she could hear Humble’s labored breathing as he rose again and again from the mat. He’s incredible! Trixie begrudgingly admitted. I’ll bet even the royal guards aren’t in the kind of shape he is.

“I don’t hear much strainin' back there,” Humble said as he lay back on his mat. Swallowing hard, Trixie forced her torso to move, and her stomach shook as she struggled to sit up. Mentally tallying up a ‘one’, she fell back, coughing as the rock blasted the air out of her lungs. Three more and she waved her hooves in surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll just move on,” Humble said, returning to the wheel.

Rest! Trixie pleaded. Please land on rest! As the wheel slowed, Trixie discovered she was holding her breath. Gasping, she slammed a hoof into the mat as it landed on ‘5 – Side Bends’. Stupid wheel! Reluctantly, she lifted the rock over her head and tried to follow Humble’s example.

Trixie lay on her mat, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She had never been so tired before. She could just see Humble out of the corner of her eye as he stretched. She wanted to throw something at him, but her legs didn’t seem to work any longer.

Lifting her head slightly, Trixie could just see the wheel above the rock that was still sitting on her chest. If there was anything she really wanted to throw a rock at, it was that horrible thing. Twenty times! she thought. He spun that wheel twenty times! Every other entry is ‘Rest’! How did it never come up?! She let her head fall back with a thud. They hate me! she thought, her shaking legs struggling to push the rock off of her. Humble’s insane and that wheel has it out for me. Trixie twisted onto her side, rubbing her legs vigorously. If I never see another wheel…

“Ayup, that was a right good session, miss,” Humble said, adjusting his headset. “Look at the two of you. Worn out.” He retrieved his rock and set it back in the wheelbarrow. “At least this one’s done for the day, and yours, as well. Too bad for us, eh?” he said, moving to a new mat. Trixie blanched as a slow realization came over her.

“Y-you don’t mean to go through this for every rock here, do you?!” she wailed.

“Of course not, miss,” he replied. Trixie nearly cried in relief. “I mean to exercise half of the rocks here. All the rest are yours.” Humble pointed to a dozen or so mats on the left side of the room. “Probably going to be a long day.” Wearily, Trixie stood and wondered if there was a limit to how much one pony could despise farmers and their wheels of torture.

School of Hard Rocks

“You plannin’ on gettin’ up any time today, miss?”

Trixie’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned pitifully. She felt like somepony had thrown her down a well. A deep, dry well. Repeatedly. She closed her eyes again, cursing.

“Miss Trixie? Are you in there?” he called. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us and it’s near enough to eight o’ clock.” Trixie struggled to say something. The dry night air here had left her parched. Reaching for the glass of water she kept by her bedside, her back suddenly seized up. Crying out, she accidentally knocked the glass over. As the water spread over her imported rug, she let out a scream of rage. It would have been much more satisfying to throw something, but her muscles seemed to have been turned into wood overnight.

“Are you all right in there?” Humble shouted.

“No, I’m not all right!” Trixie spat. “Your stupid exercise routine mauled me! I can barely move!” She rolled out of bed, but as her hooves landed on the floor, they sent a wave of pain up each leg and she collapsed.

“Ah, sore, eh?” Humble said through the door. “Not surprised, really.” Trixie imagined what it would be like to take one of his beloved boulders and drop it on his head. Even that thought failed to cheer her much. Her imagination wasn’t quite as vivid as the very real pain saturating every muscle.

“No, I’m not sore!” she yelled. “I’m crippled!” Suddenly, Trixie grinned, an idea forming. “Sorry, I suppose you will have to get another worker. I’ll need to see a doctor.”

“Hurt, are you? Well, you just hold on.” Trixie gasped as the door to her trailer flew open with a bang, showering her with splinters. Humble’s hoof had left a deep depression near her doorknob. “Sorry about that, miss,” he said, stepping inside. “Medical emergency, you know. Here, I’ve got you.” He bent down and picked the sputtering Trixie up, throwing her over his back.

“Now wait—you can’t just—my door!” Trixie tried to squirm away, but every twist sent a new stab of pain into her body.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Humble said mildly, making his way outside. “I’ll fix your door up, don’t you worry.” He turned to regard her over his shoulder. “But first, we’ve got to fix you up.” He turned to look at the sun, which had just peeked over the nearby hills. “Already late in the day, you know.”

Trixie ground her teeth. “I’ve already told you, I can’t work,” she said, unevenly, bumping painfully as he trotted toward the farmhouse.

“Oh, ayuh. I heard you,” Humble answered. “I’ve been through this plenty, though. Farmin’ is hard work. You’re not the first to wake up feelin’ like limestone in a slate field.” Trixie was too tired to try and decipher whatever that adage might mean.

Humble stopped in front of a strange, metal drum. Large enough to fit at least a dozen ponies inside, the drum was tipped at a forty-five degree angle, supported by an ancient, rusted machine. Several aged rubber belts looped over the drum, fitting snuggly into a geared motor protruding from the machine's body. Trixie wrinkled her nose as the acrid smell of axle grease it gave off turned her stomach. “So here we are.” Trixie eyed it suspiciously.

“And just what is that?” she asked.

“This here is my rock tumbler,” he answered, rubbing the drum fondly. “She’s a real beaut. Versatile. She handles lots of jobs on the farm.”

Studying the large drum and the ramp that lead into it, Trixie decided enough was enough. This insane farmer is not putting me in that thing. Eyes watering from the pain, Trixie slid off of Humble’s back and began shuffling stiffly back the way they had come.

“I don’t know what you are trying to pull, but count me out!” she growled, wincing with each delicate step she took. Humble frowned, biting down on his pipe.

“Now, see here,” he said, walking after her. “You think my wife rises fresh as a daisy after a night of calxthenics? If you want to work your day away weak as a newborn pebble, well, that’s your lookout, I suppose.” He lowered his head to look directly into her eyes. “But you will be a-workin’.” Trixie backed slowly away from him, her muscles twitching and spasming.

“But, I can’t, Humble!” she said thickly, the words catching in her throat. She sat down and looked away, trying not to cry. “I’m not kidding. I can barely move.”

“Well, if you’d clean out your ear and listen, you’d see that I’m tryin’ to help you,” Humble said sternly. “Golly-gee, miss. You act like the world owes you a favor and is out to get you all at the same time.” Humble shrugged and began his way back to the house. “But it’s your choice, I suppose. I’ll give you a few minutes to get yourself up and runnin’, but we’re startin’ soon.”

“Okay, okay!” Trixie called after him, sure that she was going to regret this. “What’s the deal with the rock tumbler?” Humble stopped, regarding her curiously over his shoulder. Was that a smile? Trixie thought, squinting. Maybe the morning light was playing tricks on her. Whatever it was, it’s gone now. Trixie watched him warily as he trotted back, scowling once more. Why is he always so grim?

“As I said,” Humble began, pulling out his pipe to motion with it toward the tumbler. “She’s got a lot of uses. One is sore muscles.” Trixie rubbed her eye with a hoof. She was so tired. Much too tired for this.

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re not going to… put me in there, are you?” There! I’ve said it. Now he can laugh at my ignorance.

“Of course I am,” he said. “Shush, now,” he said gently as her mouth flew open to protest. “Much of life is about trust, filly. You may as well learn that now.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Trixie allowed herself to be picked up again. Her stomach began to roll uncomfortably as Humble ascended the ramp. As they passed a large bucket of stones at the ramp’s apex, Trixie bit her lip.

What am I doing?! I’ve got to get out of here before he kills me in that thing! Gathering her strength, Trixie tried to slide off Humble’s back and down the ramp. “On second thought—” Her stomach lurched again as Humble’s strong hooves caught her.

“Whoops, careful there. You nearly fell,” he said distractedly, as he studied a large panel filled with various switches.

“Humble, I—” she began.

“Well, in you go,” Humble said, and with a grunt, he pitched her into the drum’s dark interior.

For a moment, Trixie forgot all about her sore muscles. Panicking, she clawed at the walls, searching for any purchase to stop her descent. Worn from use, the drum offered her nothing. With a jolt, she landed in a soft pile of sand.

“Humble, get me out of here!” she yelled, wincing as the sound echoed loudly around her.

“’Ware your head. Rocks incomin’.” Trixie squeezed herself as close to a wall as possible, covering her head with her hooves. Trixie’s eyes widened as a dozen or so rocks thudded into the sand.

Those rocks are the size of my hooves! she thought, “Don’t you dare turn that thing on!” she screamed at the opening. “My agent will hear about this!”

“Here we go,” Humble’s called. “You just sit back and relax.”

Suddenly the drum was moving. Trixie shrieked and looked for any hoofhold. Smooth! she thought, sliding her hooves desperately across the interior of the drum. It’s so smooth! There’s no way out! Oscillating left to right, the drum began to mix the sand and rocks together, and with irresistible power, it began to suck Trixie into the center. Paddling furiously, she tried to avoid the churning rocks, but the drum’s action left her completely without balance or leverage. Soon she was spinning gently, surrounded by the sharp cracking of rocks slamming together. Over it all, Trixie could hear whistling coming from somewhere outside the drum’s opening. If I survive this, I’ll make him wish I didn’t! Trixie thought, as her shoulders disappeared under the churning sand.

Trixie gave up struggling. The sand was too heavy and the drum was too powerful. Instead, she tried to remain as quiet as possible. Maybe he’ll think it’s finished me off, she thought. Grabbing her hind legs, she curled up as tightly as she could manage. Clenching her jaw and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she waited for the end to come.

The sensation was so unexpected that for a moment Trixie thought one of the rocks must have hit her head. Suddenly, instead of pulling her under, the sand was holding her, rocking her. As it slid over and under her, the heavy rocks that Humble had dumped in kneaded her sore muscles, working them as expertly as a spa masseuse. Uncurling her body, Trixie relaxed and let the machine work its magic on her. For several minutes, she was in a state of bliss. She couldn’t think of a time when she felt better, and all too soon it was over.

“Well,” Humble’s voice echoed down to her, “I reckon that ought to have done it.” Trixie stretched, smiling.

“Trixie requires ten more minutes,” she called up, snugging deeply into the sand. “You may return when called.”

“Yup,” Humble returned. “That did the trick all right.” Trixie let out a small shriek as the drum suddenly emptied below her, spilling her out onto the ground. Rubbing her rump, she glared at Humble as he walked over to close and relock the drum’s release door.

“Maybe you didn’t hear Trixie!” she growled.

“Oh, I’ve had an earful of Trixie, don’t you worry,” he said, scowling. “Thought we had moved past the third person nonsense, since there’s no young rocks around to appreciate it, but I can see I’ve erred. Let’s get you up.” Humble offered his hoof to her, but Trixie ignored it. Shaking herself, she stood, stretching.

“Nonsense?” she said, combing a hoof through her mane to shake out the last grains of sand. “What would you know about proper decorum? A star must act as a star at all times. Trixie regrets forgetting herself this morning.” Humble shook his head, scowling even more deeply than usual.

“Funny. Most 'stars' don’t work on rock farms,” he said over his shoulder as he walked back toward the farm house. “So what does that say about you?” Trixie glared after him, kicking one of the nearby rocks. She swore as it chipped her hoof. Just as Humble was about to round the corner, he stopped and froze her with that penetrating gaze. “I had thought we were makin’ some progress, but I see it’s been for naught. Get to the South Field and we’ll see if the current batch of rocks learn any faster than you do.”

Who does that bumpkin think he is, ordering me around? Trixie fumed as she followed the path markers to the South Field. She really wanted something to scream at, but there seemed to be nothing around but rocks as far as the eye could see. Not even a bird or a squirrel she could hurl one of the smaller stones at. Calling me dumber than a rock when all he does is spout nonsense! Progress, he says. Progress with what?! I ought to progress my hoof into his flank…

“Oh, no hurry. Here on the farm, we grow time as well as rocks.”

Trixie jumped. She had been so caught up in her ferocious daydreams that she had forgotten why she was walking on the path in the first place. Tapping a hoof impatiently, Humble stood at a rusted stile leading into the southern field. Pushing it open, he impatiently waved for her to move through. Thrusting her nose into the air, Trixie trotted through without meeting his eye. Humble let out a heavy sigh and moved to step in time with her.

“So, yonder is today’s assignment,” he said, pointing to a wooden structure in the middle of the field. Trixie squinted, trying to make out exactly what it was in the growing haze.

“Is that… a stage?” she asked, her ears perking up.

“Oh, ayuh,” he said, nodding. “Thought you might like that.” Trixie’s heart leapt.

“A show?” Trixie cried, galloping toward the stage. “Finally, Trixie’s talents are utilized!” Suddenly, she pulled up short. Humble, still walking behind her, pursed his lips around his pipe. “But, uh, Trixie needs to go back and get her cart,” she said, working to avoid meeting his eyes. “She has vital components of magical power there that must be—”

“You won’t be needin’ them,” Humble said, making his way toward the stage once more. “I’ve got everythin’ we’ll need there.” Trixie’s felt her stomach drop.

What am I going to do without my fireworks?! she thought, her mind whirling. The stage that had looked so inviting now loomed like a cage in front of her. I’ve got to stall him! Trixie crossed her legs, bobbing up and down. “Oh, Humble,” she called after him. “Trixie regrets that she must visit the facilities. She will be back momentarily.” Humble, having reached the stage, reached underneath and pulled out a large, dented metal pail.

“When I said everythin’, I meant everythin’, miss,” he said, pushing the bucket toward her. “Just take this around back, but try not to let the rocks see you. They get embarrassed easily.” Eyeing the bucket, Trixie gave it a wide berth as she approached the stage.

“On second thought, Trixie can wait.” Humble shrugged as he made his way up a series of steps onto the stage.

“Suit yourself, then,” he said, digging through a battered trunk. “Ah, here it is. Come on up.” Trixie sighed and ascended the stairs, searching for some way to get out of whatever it was Humble had in mind. As she approached, he thrust a primer into her hooves. It read:

Schoolhouse Rocks

An Elementary Guide to Stone

Education and Motivation

Igneous Feldspar

“You’ll want to give that a thorough readin’, miss,” Humble said, still digging through the crate. “Now where are those flags?” he mumbled under his breath.

“Are you trying to get revenge for this morning?” Trixie asked, flipping to random pages in the book. Disgusted, she threw it away. “Trixie doesn’t talk to rocks.” She waited, letting the words hang in the air while Humble continued to shuffle objects around, grumbling. “Are you listening?” she yelled, stomping a hoof. Humble’s head reappeared and he grimaced at her.

“As if I have any choice,” he growled.

“Well, then answer!”

“Don’t see that an answer is necessary,” he said, rummaging through the box again. “You say you’re not goin' to do it—Aha!” Humble pulled out two diagonally striped flags and set them down next to a small podium. “But in the end, you will.” He pulled off his hat and fanned the podium, blowing away the layer of grey dust that had settled there. Unsurprisingly, the paint underneath was grey. Humble stopped, chewing on his pipe stem. “’Cause I’m not givin' you a choice. This is your job today, so get to readin’.”

Tossing her head angrily, Trixie snatched up the book and began leafing through it. Just reading the table of contents made her head hurt.

Fundamentals of Stone Nutrition. The Role of Compassion in Creating Positive Rock Environments. The Many Moods of Your Stone. Trixie peeked over the book to spy on Humble. He was absorbed in setting a PA system up on the podium. I-I don’t get it, she thought. He seems almost obnoxiously practical. He can’t really believe this tripe. He’s got to be an actor! Dotted Line is punishing me. She gasped and jerked her head behind the book once more as he looked over at her.

“So you stay here and study up,” he said, making his way down the stairs. “I’ll go and get our students.” Rolling her eyes, Trixie returned to reading.

To the layman, a rock is simply an amalgamation of minerals and binders. Most consider them to be unchanging and inert. However, to those who take the time for careful observation, it is apparent that while wild rocks are common, they are hardly the pinnacle of geologic evolution. In just the way that a fruit tree can be fertilized, shaped, and pruned, a rock can be similarly cultivated. Contained within these chapters is the collected wisdom of both farmers and scientists who have dedicated their lives to the advancement of stone. Use this book judiciously but feel free to deviate from it if your stones respond better to different methods. Remember, this is a guide, not a blueprint.

Trixie’s head snapped up as a wagon filled with an enormous pile of rocks clattered loudly around the stage. Backpedaling furiously, Humble tried to stop, but the heavy cart kept pushing him along for several more yards. Finally, it came to a rest and Humble pulled off his hat. Using it to fan himself, he mopped the sweat from his brow with his other hoof.

“You makin’ any headway on that book?” he panted, using his hat to shield his eyes from the sun. Trixie tossed the book on the podium and hopped off the stage.

“What is all this for, exactly? It galls her to think it, but Trixie supposes that you want her to give these rocks a pep talk.” Humble began unloading the cart. With a grunt, he picked out a rock, setting it down before her. He followed that with another, and another, making a neat row.

“You might say that,” he said, straining from the heavy load. “Quality rocks are worldly. You’ve been around. I’d like you—oof, heavy one—to tell ‘em about your travels.” He stopped to lean on the wagon for a minute, catching his breath. “Let ‘em see that they can grow up and do great things.”

“You seriously want the Great and Powerful Trixie to waste her valuable time telling stories to rocks?”

“Why do I have to tell you everythin’ twice?” Humble growled, dropping another stone into his row. “I thought entertainers would be faster on the uptake, needin’ to read crowds and whatnot, but maybe that’s why your services came so cheaply.”

“What did you say?!” Trixie gasped. She was so shocked that she involuntarily took a few steps away from the horrible farmer and tripped over a stone. She winced as Humble wrapped his legs around another stone from his wagon, maneuvering it above her before waddling back to his row.

“See, here I am repeatin’ myself again. You were cheap.” Humbled placed his hooves on his back, arching toward the sky. As his back gave several sharp pops, he sighed. “Ten bits a day. That’s your contracted price.”

“Ten bits?” Trixie said softly, still sprawled out in the dusty field. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she looked up at Humble. “Ten bits is all The Great and Powerful Trixie is worth now?”

“Well, I had thought it was a crackin’ good bargain, but that was before you laid there in the dirt while I broke my back movin’ all the rocks. That was before you talked my ear off last night and slept away the mornin’.” As Humble moved to stand over her, Trixie was completely engulfed by his shadow. “Here’s your opportunity to show that you're worth more.” He offered his hoof to Trixie once more and, after a moment, she took it.

Trixie stood behind the podium, squinting against the glare of the harsh sunlight at the rows of rocks sitting in the field.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought. Glancing briefly at the book before her, she scanned the first page of the chapter Humble had turned it to. It read:

Your stones can achieve greatness with care, attention to detail, and most importantly, the correct motivation. Rocks grow best when they are exposed to attainable goals and when they know that dreams can come true. Left to their own devices, stones tend to be lazy, but with proper incentive they will reach for the stars!

Trixie rolled her eyes and turned once more to appeal to the kernel of rational thought that must reside somewhere in Humble’s mind. As she opened her mouth, Humble clenched his jaw and pointed at the microphone. Trixie sighed, tapping the microphone to test the volume.

“So, um, hello,” Trixie began. As she spoke, Trixie tried to ignore Humble, who was flailing around beside her. The sound of fabric snapping in the wind made whatever he was doing nearly impossible to ignore. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has been brought—what are you doing?!” Trixie whirled around to face the farmer. He shot her an annoyed glance and lowered his flags.

“What does it look like?” he said, hooves on his hips. “I’m translatin’ your speech into semaphore.” Trixie cocked her eyebrow at him, trying to make some sense of this.

“Semaphore?” she asked. “Why?” Humble sighed and motioned toward the rocks.

“'Cause some rocks are born stone deaf. It’s a genetic condition.” He held his flags out before him, waving them gently to unfurl them for Trixie. “We’ve found semaphore works the best for a large crowd. It’s the only way the ones all the way in the back get the message.”

“Well, can you knock it off?” Trixie snapped. “All of that waving is distracting me!” Humble pushed his hat up with a flag, regarding her with a half lidded stare.

“Oh, I thought I was dealin’ with a professional entertainer,” he said. “You can’t work with a little distraction?” Humble gently placed his flags down and began to walk off the stage. “I guess I’ll have to tell the agency you aren’t fit to perform.”

“No, no, no!” Trixie cried, blanching. Above all else, she couldn’t afford to have word spread that she couldn’t put on a show. “Trixie will show you that she is the greatest performer of all time! She’s, ah, just not used to flags.”

“Well, don’t show me,” Humble grumbled, retrieving his flags and standing beside her once more. He pointed out into the audience. “Show them.” Trixie squared her shoulders and stared out into the assemblage. Shaking her head, she adjusted the microphone’s height and took a deep breath.

“Today, you stand at a fork in the road,” she began, working to ignore the flapping sounds beside her. “Before you, a path branches. One road leads down into a gentle valley, surrounded by tall mountains. The other leads up into those very mountains. It is a dark, twisted, forbidding path.” Trixie glanced over at Humble, who was a blur of motion. Sweating, he looked like a clock gone berserk as he attempted to keep up with her speech. Warming both to the performance and to making Humble uncomfortable, Trixie removed the microphone from its stand and began to pace the stage.

“You will want to take that road into the valley. That downhill path looks so inviting, but look around you! Look at the mountains, and how they crowd in. If you go down that road, you will be stuck forever at the bottom, unless you retrace your steps and choose a different path! You—”

Trixie gasped, blinking and shading her eyes. She wasn’t sure, but she could swear that the rows of rocks had just inched forward en masse. The sun was beating down ferociously by now, causing the air near the ground to shimmer.

I-it must have been a trick of the light, Trixie thought, stealing a glance at Humble. He returned her glance, and Trixie’s eyes flew wide as he gave her a little smirk. I wasn’t dreaming this morning! He can smile! Humble motioned impatiently for her to continue.

“You have another option, though!” Trixie belted out in ringing tones. Crossing the stage once more, she was amused to see that Humble was beginning to look quite tired. Between the heat and the rocks he had moved earlier, his arms weren’t quite snapping the fabric of the flags as smartly as they were before. Let’s see him keep up with this! Trixie jumped down off the stage, the microphone cord trailing behind her.

“Yes, the other option! The hard option! The long climb up that mountain.” Trixie began walking down the nearest row, inspecting the rocks as she went. Finally, she reached the end of the cord and had to turn back, switching to a new row as she went. “The Great and Powerful Trixie once made a similar choice. When she was a little filly, it was plain to all that she was supremely gifted. They sent her to school, and there she studied. Juggling. Acting. Showmareship. Singing. When others partied or slept, she studied. When others thought the going was too hard, she studied. When others were making friends and having fun, she studied. She studied, and worked, and marched up that steep mountain path.”

From this vantage, she could see Humble clearly. Sweat streaming down his face, he whipped his legs into precise formations with the flags. When she paused for breath, he dropped his legs heavily to his sides as he sucked in air. Watching him struggle, Trixie was surprised to feel something twinge in her chest.

I-is he okay? He looks like he could keel over any second now! Pursing her lips, Trixie pushed the thought away. She brought back the memories of the previous night and his torturous exercise farce, but unbidden, she also remembered his care this morning. Confused, she shook her head vigorously and made her way back to the stage.

“For it is the difficult path up the mountain that puts us among the stars!” Trixie cried out, jumping back onto the stage. “Trixie ascended that path, and you can as well! Work hard and let nothing stand in your way, and you can all be stars!” Trixie punctuated this by standing on her hind legs, punching her front legs into the sky. She felt exhilarated. It had been entirely too long since she had last performed for an audience, even if the audience was a bunch of rocks.

A sniff startled her, and she turned slowly in wide-eyed amazement to Humble. He stood, wiping his eye with the corner of a flag. The other watery eye was fixed squarely on her.

“Oh, ayuh,” he said, his voice shaking. “That was a right good rock speech you just gave. I can’t say I’ve heard better in all my years.” Flustered, Trixie fumbled for a response. One must act a star, she thought. Flipping her hair, she regarded him coolly.

“Of course it is, fool. Do you now see the error of your ways? You should have never doubted that Trixie the Magnificent is the most talented performer in all of Equestria.” Trixie thrust her nose into the air, but her heart twinged again as she watched the emotion drain from his face. Once again he leveled his cool, detached gaze at her, frowning.

“Well, you’ve got a talent, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But when the mask comes off, underneath, you’re still you.” He spat on the ground near the stage. “And you’ve got to live with that.” Trixie flinched away from his words, and hated herself for it. Confused, she looked away from him and wondered what had gotten into her. “And unfortunately,” he continued, “so do I for the next few days.” He turned and walked off the stage. “So let’s get ready for the next class.” Trixie whipped around suddenly, running after him as he disappeared around the back of the stage.

“‘Next class’?” she asked. “What do you mean, ‘next class’?” Snorting, Humble pointed off into the field, where hundreds more stones lay in piles. Trixie’s mouth fell open as the horrible truth dawned on her.

“You surely don’t want Trixie to inspire all of them today, do you?” she asked, wishing she didn’t already know the answer.

“Oh, ayuh,” Humble answered, retrieving his cart. “Timin’ is critical in rock farmin’, and today’s the day.” Trixie gently banged her head against the wooden siding that made up the back of the stage. “Of course, it’ll go faster if you help me load ‘em up,” Humble said, giving her a meaningful look as he pulled the cart out to the field. With a heavy sigh, Trixie followed.

Pass the Rock Salt - An Interlude Over Lunch

Pass the Rock Salt – An Interlude Over Lunch

Trixie threw herself down on the rough wooden bench and sighed, massaging her hooves. She’d been on them all day, helping Humble prepare an inordinately large amount of soup. Now they were positively killing her, especially her left-front hoof, which she had accidentally cut when she had lost her grip on a carrot.

I hope I never see another carrot again in my life, she thought, rubbing her swollen eyes. Humble had assigned her a large pile of onions after the carrots, and she hadn’t quite recovered from them yet, either. Her eyes were still stinging when Humble sat down across from her, dropping a wicker picnic basket between them.

“Ah, it does a body good to sit a spell, don’t you think, miss?” he said, rolling his neck from side to side. Trixie shuddered as it made several slightly wet-sounding cracks. “Of course, you shouldn’t get too much rest. ‘Toil and soil, or the body will spoil’, that’s what my pa used to say.” Trixie rolled her eyes and tried to envision herself center stage in Canterlot’s Royal Theatre. Each time the curtains opened, however, the audience was nothing but rows and rows of rocks.

Humble rose and began rummaging around in the wicker basket, placing various items on the table while mumbling to himself. Trixie was brought out of her daydream as he thrust a corked, dark-brown bottle into her hooves.

“There you are,” he said, already digging back into the basket. Trixie turned the bottle around in her hooves, studying the worn glass.

“And just what is this?” she asked, bringing the bottle to her eye. She could just see the barest hint of movement as she swirled the bottle around. Trixie lifted it high, allowing the sun to filter through the bottle as she squinted at it.

“Mineral water,” Humble muttered as he continued to pull things out of his basket. “The rocks love it. Ah! I knew it was in there someplace.” The farmer dug out a second bottle and a small, green box. Biting the cork, he pulled it from the bottle’s neck, and Trixie grimaced as he spat it absently back into the basket.

“Ugh,” Trixie said, curling her lip. “Trixie only drinks Aquine mineral water, but she supposes that would be too much to ask for.” Trixie set the bottle down and pushed it away. Humble slowly sighed heavily and shook his head. As if I’m the one who’s difficult! Trixie thought, turning dismissively from the bottle. Humble picked it up, biting down on the cork.

“And where do you think Aquine gets their water from, hmm?” he said from around the cork.

“Oh, please!” Trixie spat, crossing her legs tightly across her chest. “Now you bottle gourmet water, too?” Her nose wrinkled as he spat her cork into the basket. “Do you have to be so crude? Trixie expects a certain level of decorum.”

“Is that so?” Humble said as he opened the green box. Retrieving a small rock from inside it, he tossed the box back into the basket. “I reckon the list of things that Trixie expects is pretty long indeed. Certainly longer than the list of things she gives in return.” He positioned the rock over the lip of his bottle and began grinding it between his hooves.

“Why you!” Trixie shot back. “What would you know of Trixie’s—”

Humble stopped working his stone, and glanced up at her with his piercing gaze. Trixie’s mouth snapped closed, and she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Finally, she let her eyes drop down to her lap.

What is wrong with me?! she thought, clenching her teeth. He gives me that look and I just fall apart!

“Miss,” he began with a heavy sigh. “We’ve a long stretch of time still before your contract is up. I think it’s high time we straightened a few things out.” He pushed her bottle of mineral water back across the table. “Twist of limestone?” he asked, holding out the rock.

“Ah, well—” Trixie sputtered, trying to find her footing in the conversation once more.

“Ayuh, I thought so,” Humble replied, grinding the stone over her drink. “As I was sayin’, we’re goin’ to need to come to an understandin’. First, I’d take it as a kindness if you’d drop the ‘Trixie this’ and ‘Trixie that’ nonsense when we aren’t workin’ with the rocks.”

That does it! Trixie curled her mouth into a snarl and leapt up, slamming her hooves onto the table. “Do not presume to tell Trixie how to behave!” she growled. “Trixie may be obliged to work for you, but she owes you nothing beyond that. You do not dictate to the Great and Powerful Trixie! She has been places you have never been and seen places you will never see! The Great and Powerful Trixie has known the elite of Equestria!” Trixie thrust her face into his, bending down the brim of his hat. “She will not suffer the condescension of some backwoods yokel that nopony has ever heard of!”

Humble held her gaze, and worked the pipe forward in his mouth. As she quickly glanced down at the clacking sound that the pipe made against his teeth, he blew a blast of air through it. Trixie reeled back, covering her eye with a hoof. It hadn’t exactly hurt, but the air had dried out her eye unpleasantly. As her legs hit the bench, she sat down hard. Humble returned to unloading the wicker basket.

“Lucky for you, I stopped smokin’ twenty years ago. The habit’s hard to break, though,” he said, tapping his pipe fondly. “So, you’ve been everywhere and seen everthin’, eh?” he asked, setting a few cloth-wrapped bundles on the table. “Might be some truth in that. You should think back on what you told the young rocks yesterday, though.” He stopped to stare at her for a moment. “What was it again? While everypony was out makin’ friends and havin’ fun, you were workin’, is that it?” Trixie nodded, unsure as to where this was going.

Unwrapping several of the bundles, Humble began pulling out sandwiches and condiments and placed them on two large, stone plates. Sliding one over to her, he sat down and picked up his sandwich. Trixie took a cautious sniff, and reached down to rub her stomach as it growled loudly. She had to admit that she was very hungry, and this smelled delicious. Humble opened a bottle of mustard, spreading some onto his bread.

“Mustard?” he asked, tipping the jar toward her. “It’s stone ground.” Hesitating only slightly, Trixie took it. Her mouth watered as she spread it on her bun.

“Now, as I was saying, you threw yourself into your studies, and you made somethin’ out of yourself, didn’t you?” Trixie nodded. “Ayuh, you did. A right jackass, I’d say.” Trixie’s sandwich dropped back to her plate as her eyes flew wide.

“Now, you listen to—” she said, keeping her distance this time.

“No, I don’t reckon I will,” he replied, opening a stoneware crock. “Seems to me that you’ve done a lot of talkin’ in life, and not near enough listenin’.” Digging into the crock with a spoon, he dropped a heaping pile of potato salad onto both of their plates. “So you made a name for yourself, but you made no friends. That’s a shame, ‘cause it seems you sorely need some right now.”

Resting her cheek on her hoof, Trixie sullenly began to eat the potato salad. Keep it together, Trixie, she thought, chewing slowly and looking off into the distance. Just let him prattle on and we’ll be on our way soon enough. Just make it through today and tomorrow and we can be done with this horrible stallion. The clink of the metal spoon on stone brought her attention back to her plate. Somehow, she had devoured most of her potato salad. Celestia’s grace, it’s... delicious!

“And it’s no wonder,” he continued thickly from around a mouthful of sandwich. “You were so busy convincin’ yourself that you’ve some merit that you took to seein’ those that made the time to make some friends as lesser folk.” He swallowed and locked eyes with Trixie again. “So tell me, what is it that you’re good at, exactly?”

Trixie sputtered, trying to dislodge the last bit of salad from her throat. The question had caught her off-guard, and she had reflexively taken a deep breath to shout at him.

“Magic, of course!” she croaked out, pounding her chest. “Trixie is unparalleled in the eldritch arts!”

“Is that so?” Humble said, taking a sip of mineral water. “Why is it then that you haven’t done any since you arrived?”

“Well, you asked Trixie not to!” Trixie cried, throwing her hooves into the air. Humble shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I asked you not to scare the rocks with all those flashin’ lights and whizbangs. I never said anythin’ about magic.” Trixie’s mouth sagged open. Humble placed his sandwich carefully back down on his plate. Placing his hooves neatly together in front of him, he leaned a little closer to her. “You know what I think?” he said quietly, holding her eyes with his own. “I reckon you just don’t have much talent in that department.” Releasing her, he picked up his sandwich again and began his slow, rhythmic chewing once more.

For a few seconds, Trixie was paralyzed. Too many emotions were cycling through her all at once. Hate would well up, only to be replaced by disbelief, and before she could express that, indignation would take its place.

“How dare you!” she cried, baring her teeth. “How dare you! You don’t know a single thing about Trixie! Look at this!” Trixie hopped up from the bench and turned her rump toward the farmer. She wanted to smash his face as he sat there placidly chewing his sandwich, but instead she stabbed her hoof toward her cutie mark. “You see this?” she growled. “What does it look like to you?”

“Looks like a wand and some sparkly mist,” Humble returned, giving her mark a cursory glance before returning to his lunch.
“That’s right, fool!” Trixie yelled, rearing up onto her hind legs and thrusting her front legs dramatically into the sky. “Trixie received this cutie mark during her first magic show! The audience was enraptured by her unparalleled command of the magical arts! She became an overnight sensation! A magical prodigy!” Returning her front hooves to the ground, she thrust her nose into the air, flipping her mane.

“And it never crossed your mind that you might have gotten that cutie mark for the performance itself, hmm?” Humble asked, resting his cheek against his hoof as he chewed.

Trixie felt the world begin to recede from her with a horrible sliding sensation, as though she was being pulled forcibly through a dark tunnel. Sweating, her unfocused eyes darted back and forth as she cast her mind back to that moment.

She remembered the thrill of the applause as it broke over her in waves. She had sacrificed everything for that moment. She had spent countless hours in practice, honing her performance. She repeated every word, every gesture, every trick again and again until she could do them in her sleep. At first, she had been a little disappointed that her instructors had advised her away from a show of pure magic, but when they had demonstrated the power that a little stagecraft could bring to the performance, she had fallen in love. Some smoke here, a well-placed mirror there; that was all it took for her instructors to shower her with compliments.

All of that hard work and sacrifice had paid off that night as the crowd stomped their hooves and whistled for an encore. There she stood, quivering with excitement, her heart filled nearly to bursting with pride. She had actually needed to press her hoof to her chest to try and calm its beating. It was a feeling she wouldn’t trade for the world. Then the audience had gasped and she turned to see what had drawn their attention. Following their hooves to her flank, there it was: A wand controlling a misty enchantment. It was so beautiful that she had broken down into tears, and the audience rushed forward. Suddenly she had been surrounded by comforting words and congratulatory shouts. The crowd cried out that she was the most magical pony they had ever seen!

“No!” Trixie managed, her lower lip quivering. “No! I am the most magical! It’s my special talent!”

“Miss, your special talent isn’t somethin’ you just turn on and off,” Humble said, regarding her with those cool, judging eyes. “It’s who you are deep down inside,” he continued as she tried to turn away. “If a magician is who you really are, then askin’ you not to use it would have been like askin’ you to stop breathin’.”

“Stop! Just stop, Humble!” Trixie said, hiding behind her hair. Biting her lip, she struggled to keep control, but her eyes began to fill against her will. “You don’t know—”

“You’re right there, miss,” he replied, wiping the last crumbs from his sandwich off of his chest. “I don’t know. But I suspect, and more than that, I suspect you suspect that I’m right.” Pulling a toothpick from the basket, he began to work it around his teeth, leaning back slightly to check the sun’s position. “Soon as your wagon rolled to a stop on my farm that first day, you launched straight into a performance. Then, you made sure to get up near my exercise wheel, front and center on stage. The spotlight, so to speak.” Trixie shook her head, but Humble continued relentlessly. “Yesterday, you were so happy to see that stage that you took off like a shot.” Crossing one leg over the other, he pulled out his pipe, motioning with it. “But did you teach the young rocks with a lesson etched in magic? No. No you didn’t. Instead, you gave a mighty fine speech and walked that stage like a mare possessed. Like you were born to do it.”

“It can’t be!” Trixie cried. Humble shifted, looking away uncomfortably as tears began falling from the unicorn’s eyes. “It just can’t be!” she whispered. Her cheeks burned as she felt her legs trembling. “I’ve worked so hard…”

Suddenly, Humble was there, holding her gently. Trixie wanted to scream and slap him, but instead she collapsed, burying her face into his chest and sobbing. She tried to summon up her white-hot hate for him as he patted her consolingly on the back, but it just wouldn’t come. “Now, now, miss,” he said, rocking her. “You’re carryin’ on like this is the end. Look up at me.” Half-unwilling, Trixie forced her eyes up, inch by inch, to meet his, and gasped.

He actually looks concerned! she thought, wiping a tear away roughly. The old fool! He doesn’t care about me... does he? She jumped slightly as he took her face in his hooves, holding it gently but firmly.

“This isn’t the end,” he said in a soft voice. “This is your beginning. Everypony walks this earth with a mission. I’ve been put here to commune with the earth and bring forth its fruits. That’s why I sleep easy.” He stared directly into Trixie’s eyes, but she couldn’t hold his gaze. “Do you?” Brushing his hooves from her burning cheeks, she dropped her eyes to her lap.

Trixie squirmed as she thought back to the nights she had before arriving on the farm. Nights filled with tossing and turning. Nights filled with thoughts of revenge. Nights where she was never truly sure if she was awake or asleep. “No,” she answered after a lengthy pause.

“Well, now you know why!” he said, giving her a little shake. “You can get back to doin’ what you love and bein’ happy!”

“You think it’s that easy?!” she cried, jerking herself out of his grasp. “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?! Haven’t you heard? Nopony wants to see The Great and Powerful Trixie!” She whirled around, wide-eyed, and Humble stepped a few prudent feet away from the unicorn.

“Trixie’s life as a performer is over, and now you sit there, trying to convince her that she isn’t even talented…” her voice hitched as she fought to control her emotions, “in the one thing she loves.”

“Don’t see that as much of an obstacle, really,” Humble said, placing a hoof under his chin and chewing on his pipe stem. Trixie goggled at him, sputtering.

“You don’t—not a—what are you blathering about?!” she finally managed. “Trixie has no audience and, according to you, no talent for magic. What exactly is she supposed to do now?!”

Shaking his head, Humble leaned forward and placed his hooves on his knees. Trixie watched and waited. She felt a throb in her forehead as her blood pressure started to rise, and she welcomed it. Anger. This was familiar. It felt good to have some normalcy back. Finally, Humble raised his head again, sighing heavily.

“You’re nearin’ the stubbornest pony I’ve ever met,” he said, hopping off of the bench. With the slow, deliberate care he gave all his tasks, he began packing up the remnants of their lunch. “You’ve got no audience, eh? Well, build one!”

“Didn’t you hear Trixie?” she replied, cocking an eyebrow at him and throwing a hoof wide beside her. “Nopony wants to see her!”

“Well, go and see them instead!” he snapped, frowning at her. “Golly-gee, miss! A body would think you were born a star! How many ponies did you draw to your shows at the beginnin’?” Trixie attempted to answer, but Humble kept right on talking. “Six ponies? Ten?” Trixie nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “Then they got bigger as you got better, right?” She nodded again, this time a little more confidently. “After a bit, you pulled in that crowd, but somethin’s happened, and I’m not askin’ what, but it did. Now you’re left with a mighty big problem and a mighty small obstacle.

Running a hoof across his head, Humble wiped away a light sheen of sweat. Glancing back up at the sun, he grimaced, and placed the basket on his back.

“Let’s walk, miss,” he said. “We’re behind schedule.” Trotting quickly back toward the barn where they had prepared the soup, Humble motioned for Trixie to fall in with him. For a moment, she thought about just bolting. The idea of leaving this all behind was like smooth satin on her raw soul, but something about what Humble was saying nagged at her. After a moment’s hesitation, she trotted after him.

“To earn a livin’ and be happy, you’re goin’ to need to rebuild. That much is plain,” Humble said as she matched his stride. “Lucky for you, that’s pretty easy.”

“Oh, is it?” Trixie sneered, curling her lip. Humble flicked his annoyed gaze at her, and Trixie dropped her eyes as a wave of confusion broke over her. Suddenly, she felt ashamed of her tone, and then irritated with herself for feeling ashamed. Whatever. Let’s hear his great advice.

“Yes, it is,” he continued after a moment. “It’s a two-step process. First, you’ll need to swallow that pride of yours. It’s not servin’ you well.”

The pair had reached the large wooden doors to the farm’s main barn. Humble shouldered off the locking bar with a grunt. As it fell to the ground, the door creaked open and the smell of boiling soup washed over them.

“Next, you’ll need to rebuild your reputation,” he said, looking down at her. “You’re goin’ to need to perform for an audience of six, then ten. Do some free shows and get people talkin’ about you again.”

“B-but, how is Trixie supposed to live?!” Trixie cried, stomping a hoof. “She can’t eat goodwill! Should she ask the crowd to continue to throw food at her just so she can cook something for dinner?!”

“You’ll live by workin’, of course,” he answered, pointing to the large pots of soup. “Rebuildin’ will be durin’ your off-hours.” He stifled her angry retort with a sharp look, and she turned away, fuming.

“Let me make this clear as new-born crystal,” he said as he made his way to a row of cabinets. Reaching inside, he scooped up several chipped stone bowls, stacking them in a nearby cart. “There’s no easy option here for you. It’s plain to see you’ve erred in a bad way, and the bigger the error, the heavier the price to be paid. Hard work will see you out of this, and only hard work.” He motioned to a drawer with his head as he passed by Trixie. “I’ll thank you kindly to grab the spoons out of here and put ‘em on that cart there.”

Trixie yanked the drawer open roughly, making the silverware jangle inside. Catching the tightening of his jaw out of the corner of her eye, she reached in gently and took out a large hoofful spoons and forks.

“Anyway,” he continued, “there’s no quick fix, here. There’s no spell. There’s no trick. There’s no wish-grantin’ lamps or magical amulets.” He set down an especially large stack of bowls with a grunt. “Just honest work. Get rid of that idea that life owes you somethin’ and start marchin’ up that steep path you were tellin’ the young rocks about.”

Humble walked over to a row of large steel pots that were boiling away along one wall. Lifting the lid of the closest of them, Humble ducked quickly away from the steam that came billowing out. Waving the lid, he dispersed the cloud and eyed the soup critically. Dipping a spoon in, he skimmed some of the broth from the top and blew on it gently. Cautiously, he sipped from the steaming spoon, then nodded, replacing the lid.

“Yes, miss, that will do,” he said, turning to her once again just as she was beginning to look elsewhere. He frowned as she whipped her head back around to him. “Effort!” he said, tapping the large pot with his spoon. “We put hours and hours of effort into these pots, and now it’s payin’ off. If you’ve a care to have your old life back, you can’t act like you’ve got soup yet. You’ve gotta chop all them vegetables first.”

Any more of this charming analogy and he might be getting his sandwich back, Trixie though, trying to force a smile onto her face. Still, as much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point. I can’t go on like this. Pulling herself up to her full height, Trixie ran a hoof through her mane and dusted herself off. “Trixie has never feared hard work!” she said, thrusting her chest out. Pushing a leg out in front of her, she pointed toward the ceiling. “She may be unfairly shunned now, but that means Equestria will love her all the more when she rises anew! Her star will once again ascend into the heavens!”

Humble raised an eyebrow, tracing the line from her outstretched hoof to the imaginary star and back again. “Well, that’s a start, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “Always nice to see enthusiasm, but first, we have two days ahead of us.” Humble turned and swept his leg in arc in front of him, highlighting his worn and half-loaded catering wagons clustered near the door. “Two long days, or maybe… ” Humble walked forward, extending his hoof to Trixie as he neared. “Maybe two short, pleasant days.”

Trixie dropped her eyes down to the outstretched hoof and then slowly back up to Humble’s earnest face. What is he up to now? she thought, squinting at the farmer.

“Oh, ayuh. It’s clear you don’t care for my company,” Humble said as she coolly regarded his hoof. “I’m not askin’ to be friends. You want to leave and I want to be done with my rock harvest. We both come out ahead if we work together.” Humble thrust his hoof slightly forward again. “I’m a mite tired of feelin’ like a jailor, so what do you say? If we can’t be friends, then can we agree to be partners?”

Trixie stared at the hoof. Partners?! she thought. As if we are on equal terms! Already turning to dismiss his ridiculous offer, Trixie caught a glimpse of herself in the hazy reflection of a nearby steel pot. Smudged with dirt, her face was a mess of dried tears, fly-away hair and a small dab of mustard in the corner of her mouth. Most disturbing were the bags under her eyes. They reminded her of the countless sleepless nights she had suffered through since the show in Ponyville.

Turning slowly to Humble, she let her eyes travel slowly across him, noting the mud on his hooves and his tangled tail. Trixie let her eyes fall to the floor as she swallowed hard. I-I suppose maybe we are equals. Clenching her jaw, she raised her eyes to meet his. He may be insane, but he’s right about one thing: It’s time I got back on my own four hooves again! Trixie reached out and took Humble’s outstretched hoof, giving it three firm pumps.

“The Great and Powerful-” Trixie stopped abruptly as Humble’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I agree, Humble. Let’s get this over with!”

Rocky Relations

Trixie’s hooves turned white as she tightly gripped the rickety ladder. “Hold it steady!” she hissed to the farmer as he stifled a yawn below her. “You’re supposed to be keeping this thing on the ground!”

Humble tapped his hoof impatiently against the hard-packed earth of the storage cellar as he frowned up at her. “Trixie, if you’d just shake a leg, you’d be done by now. Any longer and I’ll be fixin’ to charge you rent!”

Trixie gulped, staring at the huge wheel of cheese. She winced as she noticed the slippery sheen of oil that coated its rind. “I’ve already told you! This is a terrible idea!”

Humble’s eyebrows slammed together and he snapped his mouth open, only to close it again. For a few moments, he closed his eyes and laid his head against the smooth rung before him. Trixie wasn’t certain, but she thought he was counting. Finally, looked back to her, rubbing his temple. “We’ve been through this. That there is Rockfort cheese. It’s needin’ a female touch to be at its best. Now, just grab it and get yourself on down!” Humble pointed up at her. “For Celestia’s sake, you’re only five rungs up!”

“And I’ve already told you that this is an exceptionally bad idea, even by your standards!” Trixie yelled back. For a brief moment, the ladder swayed backward and Trixie threw her legs around it, her heart racing. “You did that on purpose!” she spat at Humble as he applied more pressure to the bottom rung with his back hoof.

“It wouldn’t be a-swayin’ if you weren’t up there carryin’ on with your nonsense! Now, shake a leg! I got a field of hungry rocks clamorin’ for their supper!” he said through gritted teeth. “Seems I’ve a memory of the two of us talkin’ about hard work and cooperation. What happened to that, huh?”

“But it’s a wheel of cheese, Humble!” Trixie returned. “A wheel!” Trixie bit her lip, fighting to stem a rising tide of panic. Her heart was racing, and she was beginning to feel a little light-headed. Gripping the ladder more tightly, she turned to face him. Humble leaned slightly away as sweat from her brow dropped down toward him. As the ladder swayed slightly to follow him, Trixie gave a little scream.

Sighing, Humble shook his head. He’d raised three girls, one of them very silly, and he’d never run into a pony as stubborn as this one. “A wheel of cheese is not a proper wheel. It’s just round like a wheel,” he said, glancing up at the entrance to his cellar. He could just see sky from his position, and it appeared to be getting darker. “Do you reckon a leaf of paper’s actually a leaf? It’s just called that!”

“But I’m telling you, they’re out to get me!” Trixie cried down to him, her eyes bulging. “You don’t know how many times they’ve attacked me!” She whipped her head back around, certain that he wheel had moved slightly closer to her when she had taken her eyes off of it.

“‘I don’t know’?! How could I not know?!” he yelled. “You’ve been carryin’ on about it for three hours!”

“Then you get up here and do it!”

Humble swept his hat from his head and through it to the ground, wishing he could kick something. Trixie watched as he took a few deep breaths, ready to grab onto the aging racks if he looked like he was going to pull the ladder out from under her. Finally, he looked back to her and she noticed how tired he seemed. “I’ll go through it once more, but please, we need to get a move on. The rocks can’t wait forever.” Humble shifted the pipe to the left side of his mouth, and Trixie sagged a bit where she stood on the ladder. She knew that it was his lecturing side, as he preferred to speak out of the right side of his mouth.

“Rockfort’s a special kind of rock cheese. You gotta culture it just so and serve it under special conditions. Above anythin’ else, the one thing it can’t tolerate is a stallion’s touch. It’s got somethin’ to do with chemicals and pheromones and somesuch. If a stallion tries his hoof at it, the cheese spoils.” Humble rotated his head left and right, making a show of surveying the cellar. “And what do you know? Seems there’s only one female here, so the job falls to you.”

Trixie gulped, wishing he hadn’t used the word ‘fall’, and turned back to the greasy wheel. Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a few deep breaths and carefully wrapped her legs around the cheese, shuddering as her hooves tried to grip its slippery surface. As she pulled the cheese toward her, it let out a sinister squeaking sound. Trixie whipped her hooves away, scuttling back down the ladder and running directly into Humble’s upturned face. “You heard it, right?!” Trixie managed, breathing heavily. “That’s proof! It’s after me!”

“Of all the—confound it, Trixie!” Humble mumbled, pushing her off of him and back up the ladder. “You know good and well that’s just the sound of that cheese sliding on the steel shelving!”

Her eyes irresistibly drawn to the lurking horror above her, Trixie could just see the rind’s oily outer edge. Slowly, she forced her hooves to ascend the ladder once again, pausing after each rung to attempt to stop her knees from shaking. I can do this! she thought as her heart raced. I can do this!

After what seemed to Trixie to be both an eternity and the blink of an eye, she drew level with the monstrosity. As she reached for it, she gasped, and pulled her hooves away with a hiss. For just a moment, she was sure that she’d seen a mischievous, smiling face in the rind’s greasy surface.

I-it was just a trick of the light, that’s all. Just my overactive imagination… she thought, swallowing hard. Trixie jumped as Humble loudly cleared his throat at the bottom of the ladder. Reaching out her shaking hooves, she tried to snatch the cheese up quickly, but the wheel was deceptively heavy and slick as ice. Groaning, she carefully maneuvered the cheese off of the shelf, trying to grip the ladder as tightly as she could with her rear hooves. The wheel was so large that she had to hold it over her head. Trixie said a prayer as her knees began to tremble. How am I supposed to get down? she thought.

Trixie could feel each second as they slid by her through time. Hyper-aware, she could smell the dust on the shelves and she could see each individual cobweb up near the ceiling. Danger could come from anywhere, and her body was ready. I know it’s coming! she thought. What are you planning, wheel?

“HUMBLE PIE, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Trixie let out a shriek as she plummeted off of the ladder and fell straight into the startled farmer. They both crashed into the earthen floor and Trixie’s cries were cut brutally short as the wheel of cheese slammed into her ribs and rolled away. Coughing, she tried to pick herself up, but both her balance and her breath seemed to be elsewhere.

“So, I take leave of this farm for a few days and you fall straight into sin, Humble?!” asked a severe voice. Trixie and Humble attempted to get free of one another, only to knock each other’s hooves out from underneath them and fall again.

“Trixie, get yourself off me!” Humble sputtered, pushing on Trixie’s rump before quickly snatching his hoof back, blushing furiously. “Now, Mag,” he said, retrieving his pipe and inserting it into his mouth upside down. then scowling and correcting it, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

Trixie finally got her hooves under her and stood up, massaging her sore ribs. She’d never seen Humble flustered before, but she had to admit she could understand his concern. He was shying away as a matronly pony with a chained pince nez advanced on him. Her iron-grey hair was stretched so tightly across her scalp that Trixie’s own follicles began aching in commiseration.

“Oh, It’s not, is it?” the pony said, scrutinizing the furiously blushing farmer with one squinted eye. “I’m gone a few short days and I find you in the arms of this hussy!”

Trixie inhaled deeply, preparing to unleash a verbal tirade on the mare, but ended up in a coughing fit instead. Her ribs were still aching from the impact of the cheese and they stabbed her painfully whenever she breathed in too deeply. “Him?” she managed to croak out. “With me? Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

“A likely story,” the mare sniffed, looking down her nose to giving Trixie a cursory once-over. Humble absorbed himself with retrieving his hat, taking what appeared to Trixie as a rather long time correcting its shape. “Well,” the mare said finally, “let’s hear it!”

“Mag, I told you before you left that I was goin’ to be bringin’ on a hoof to help out,” Humble said, sighing and placing his hat back on his head. “You know what time of year it is. I need somepony to work with the Rockfort.”

“And you just thought you’d bring in a fleshy young filly for the job instead of one of our girls, eh?” she replied, spitting the consonants out like arrows. “I’ve been breakin’ my back for forty years haulin’ them wheels of cheese over hill and dale to feed the young rocks, and it seems to me I’ve missed the part where you wrestle on the floor like a hot blooded colt and his new filly-friend!”

“Now, see here, Mag—” Humble began, his face falling into its familiar scowl.

“No, you see here!” the mare shrieked. “You’ve done your darnedest to shoo me off to that Rock Roundup for years! I finally go, just to be done with your constant badgerin’ and…” Trixie rolled her eyes as the mare’s voice began to hitch, “…and t-this is what I c-come back to!” Tears began to pool in the bottoms of the mare’s eyes, but she blinked them back, staring ferociously at Humble. “You’d better have a rock solid excuse for this one, Romeo!”

Trixie clenched her jaw. This has gone on long enough! He and I? The very idea! Trixie stepped forward, eyeing the mare disdainfully. “I’m not going to stand here and—”

“You stay out of this!” they both cut across her.

“Mag,” Humble said gently as Trixie spit out incoherent syllables of protest. “I wrote to the girls and Pinkie was the only one who had time off right now, and, well, she’s just not one for farm life.” Humble threw his hooves out wide beside him. “What’s a body to do? Let the rocks starve? You weren’t supposed to be home for another three days!”

“Oh, you would have liked that, wouldn’t you, Casanova!” the mare said, her eyes narrowing. “What about Sandy Shale? I suppose she just slipped your mind!”

“That dusty ol’ wreck of a pony?” Humble said, his mouth dropping open. “She’s not worked a rock field for twenty years! She’d be lucky to hold a conversation, let alone a wheel of cheese!" Humble dropped a hoof onto the mare’s shoulder, drawing her in close and nodding his head in Trixie’s direction. “Mag, she’s workin’ for ten bits,” he whispered.

“You’re payin’ this wet-behind-the-ears floozy ten bits an hour?! Well, that just seals—”

“Not ten bits an hour!” Humble barked. “Ten bits a day!”

The mare drew back, her hoof resting on her chest as her mouth dropped open. “Ten bits a day?” she said, beginning to smile. “Well, that’s a crackin’ good bargain, ain’t it!” She arched an eyebrow at Trixie. “You must have been good and desperate, filly!” Humble winced as the unicorn’s teeth ground together.

“What I was and what I am is no concern of yours!” Trixie spat out, her mane bristling. “Oh, and let me put your little fantasy to rest! Maybe I was desperate, but I’d sooner swallow live scorpions or saw off my horn than spend any more time in your oafish husband’s company than absolutely necessary! I cannot wait to leave this wretched farm!”

Trixie lip curled into a savage grin as the mare’s eyebrows rose sharply and she took a step away from the unicorn. Trixie opened her mouth to launch another salvo, but snapped it shut when she caught Humble out of the corner of her eye. He was looking off into a corner of the cellar, but it seemed to her that his eyes were shimmering. He looked at her briefly, and, catching her staring at him, he flicked his eyes away quickly.

“Come on, Mag,” he sighed after a moment. “Help us get these supplies upstairs and I’ll fill you in on what’s happened.”

“Humble, wait,” Trixie said, raising a hoof to the farmer, but he quickly busied himself with loading his saddle bags. Soon he was climbing the ramp back to the surface. The mare followed, throwing a cool look back over her shoulder at Trixie as the unicorn hung her head.

~~~

Trixie flopped down onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her trailer. She gritted her teeth as her stomach lurched uncomfortably yet again. It’d had been twenty minutes since she’d last seen Humble’s hurt expression, and her stomach had been unsettled ever since. Of all the—how darehe try and pull that on me?! she thought, punching the bed with a hoof. Pretending I’d hurt him! How could I? It’s not like we’re friends! As if The Great and Powerful Trixie would ever been friends with some backwoods clod like that!

Trixie hopped off the bed, snatching her cape from its hook on the wall. With a practiced flourish, she magically undid the clasp, and whirled the cape around her shoulders. Elegantly, it came to rest on her back. Nodding to the other side of the room, she sent her nearby hat spinning through the air to land on her head precisely the way that she’d practiced so many times in the past.

Trixie turned around, admiring the effect of her costume in the mirror. Oh, it’s been too long! I’d almost forgotten how magnificent I look when I’m properly attired! Her horn began to shine brightly as she summoned up an illusionary crowd to stand before her. “Behold, The Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived to astound and confound! Yes, Trixie the Magnificent! Known throughout Equestria as the greatest showmare of our age! Courted by the elite and beloved by millions of ponies everywhere!”

Grinning, Trixie tried to bow, but in the cramped quarters she only managed to hit her hat on the mirror, knocking it to the floor. As she leaned down to retrieve it, her cape slipped, sliding sideways across her body. Pursing her lips, she slammed her hat back in place, and then froze.

It was all there, right there in the mirror. With her hat askew and her cape dangling awkwardly, she watched as the illusionary fans continued their applause. Rows and rows of ponies, slamming their hooves together in complete silence. Trixie’s cheeks grew uncomfortably hot as she bit her lip and looked away. She’d never gotten the hang of the auditory portion of the illusion spell.

Who in their right mind would cheer for that mare in the mirror? she thought, lowering her ears and peeling her hat off. With a sigh, she sat, placing the hat on the bed beside her. I can’t even wear my ensemble correctly. The only times I’m beloved by any pony is when I’m leaving town. As tears started to well up in her eyes, she bit her lip, determined not to cry. Looking for any distraction, she glanced out the trailer’s window at the hulking rock tumbler that Humble had thrown her into. For a moment, she thought she spied Humble standing up on the tumbler’s ramp, but after wiping her eyes with a hoof, she could see that it was only the yellow control panel.

He threw me in there when I was hurting. Because I was hurting. she thought, gripping the bed’s blanket tightly in her hooves, then releasing it. He… helped me. He’s the only one who ever helped me, and I…

Forcing herself off the bed, Trixie began to pace a cramped circuit in the trailer’s limited space. Stepping on the trailing edge of her cape, she stumbled momentarily, then snatched it from around her neck. With a snarl, she threw it at the wall where it missed the hook and fell the floor. Glaring at the cape, she kicked it into a corner.

But he wasn’t doing it for me! she thought. He just wanted me to give a lecture to those stupid rocks! Just making sure he got his ten bit investment out of me for the day! He was just... Trixie stopped and closed her eyes as his sad face returned unbidden to her memory. “Why, Humble?” she yelled at the rock tumbler. “We just agreed to get along. We didn’t say we were friends! I didn’t want…” she said as her voice began to tremble. “I don’t need— ”

“Humble Pie, are you in there?!”

Trixie jumped, slamming her head into the low ceiling. Mag’s deafening cries continued to hit her like a bomb blast, even through the walls of the trailer. Outside, Mag was banging on the trailer door with such intensity that it was bending inward. Furiously wiping her eyes, Trixie wrenched the door open. “What is your—” she began.

“Where is he?!” the wild-eyed mare spat out, thrusting her head into the trailer. “I heard you sayin’ his name? Where’s he hidin’?" Knocking Trixie to one side, she threw open the trailer’s closet and began sliding the hangers back and forth. “You’ve done it this time, you two-timin’—”

“Will you get out of my trailer?!” Trixie yelled, slamming her closet door closed. Mag had pulled her head back so quickly that a few strands of her tortured hair had escaped their bun and hung down her cheek. “Your husband isn’t in here!”

Mag pulled off her pince-nez, wiping the small flecks of Trixie’s saliva off of them. When she glanced back up, she settled them on her nose and squinted at Trixie, thrusting her nose directly into the unicorn’s face.

“Not here, eh?” she said, turning her head to closely regard Trixie with the squintier of her eyes. “Then who were you a-talkin’ to, hmmmm?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but, uh…" Desperately looking around, Trixie lunged for the wooden chest that sat next to her small work bench. “I was… acting!” Trixie replied, opening her chest of half-finished scripts. “I’m a playwright, amongst other things. I was merely rehearsing a scene.”

“Is that so?” Mag said, regarding her with a cool stare. Trixie gave a little shriek as the matronly pony suddenly lunged, but Mag jumped past her, ripping up the bed skirt to peer underneath it. “A-ha! Oh,” she said, dropping the bedding with a disappointed sigh.

“Yes, it is so!” Trixie said, opening the door once more. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all!” the mare said, a wide grin spreading across her face as she dug through the chest. “Playwright, you say?” she continued, clasping her hooves together under her chin briefly before pulling out one of the many dog-eared scripts in the chest. Leafing rapidly through the pages, Mag’s eyes darted back and forth so quickly that Trixie experienced a wave of vertigo. My, my, my! The theatre! Don’t that beat all?!” As Mag looked back up suddenly,Trixie quickly pulled her head back, narrowly avoiding a painful headbutt. Only inches away, Mag’s huge eyes sparkled like sapphires. “Ooh, that sounds excitin’!”

Trixie snatched the script out of Mag’s hooves, thrusting it back in the box and twisting the latch closes again. “Yes, it’s very exciting, but I don’t share my work with ponies I don’t know. Confidentiality is—”

“Oh, pish-posh, honey!” Mag said, grabbing Trixie’s hoof and pumping vigorously. “Let’s not let a little thing like that stop us! Why, you’re practically family! I’m sure you picked up on it, but I’m Magdalena Anastasia Pie, Humble’s wife, but folks around here just call me Mag. Humble and I run this here farm together! Been at it nearin’ forty years now." Mag smiled brilliantly, but her eyes grew unfocused as she looked away into the distance. “My, how time does fly, don’t it?”

Too flabbergasted to pull her hoof away, Trixie stood blinking. Wha-what just happened? she thought, as Mag dropped her hoof and began rummaging through Trixie’s nightstand, humming to herself. She came in ready to rip our heads off and—

“My, my! Is this real? Why, I’ve never seen the like!” Mag cried out, pulling her crystal ball from its case in the closet. Wiping a thin layer of dust from the ball’s surface, the matronly pony peered at Trixie through it. Trixie could feel the muscles in her eyebrows bunching as Mag’s magnified eyes swam before her.

“Yes,” Trixie said through gritted teeth as she snatched the ball out of Mag’s hooves, “It’s for my stage show and it’s very delicate so—”

“So, you write plays about magic?” Mag said, picking up Trixie’s cape and eyeing the threading.

“No,” Trixie replied, trying to get some of her equilibrium back. Mag’s questions were coming at her so fast that she’d completely lost her bearings. “I’m a magician, but I write plays in my—”

“Well, that’s just a delight!” Mag cut across, throwing the cape around her shoulders. “Say, are you still partial to this? It was on the floor, so I thought maybe you were gettin’ rid of it. Looks mighty fine, dontcha think?" Admiring herself in the mirror, she turned to catch the sun’s rays on the cape’s metallic stars, watching them shimmer. “I could wear it to that play about Humble—now you just wait a hot minute, filly!”

Trixie took an involuntary step back. In an instant, Mag’s smiling face transformed again, and she whirled on Trixie, snarling. “Just why are you writin’ some sort of play about Humble, hmmm?” she said, advancing steadily on the unicorn. “Tryin’ to woo him away with your pretty words?" She poked Trixie in the chest with her hoof as she backed the unicorn up against the wall. “That’s your plan, ain’t it?!”

Trixie placed both of her front hooves on older mare’s chest and shoved. Startled, Mag reeled backward, and finally fell onto the bed. “Trixie would ask if you were born in a barn, but that’s a self-evident in this part of Equestria!” Trixie said. She could feel herself trembling. Humble got on her nerves, but it had been some time since she was this angry. “Who do you think you are, barging into my trailer and demanding answers from The Great and Powerful Trixie? Your fool of a husband isn’t here!" She threw open the closet door, sweeping a hoof across the open space for emphasis. “So kindly get out!”

“Well, if that’s how you want to be about it, fine,” Mag said, rising from the bed with a sniff. Tucking her loose hair back into their bun, she thrust her nose into the air and turned for the door, stopping just as she got to the threshold. “But Humble told me to tell you that you need to meet us in the south field in thirty minutes. Well, it was thirty minutes, but then you had to show me all of your odds and ends and now it’s down to ten.”

“Wait a minute,” Trixie said, raising one eyebrow. “How could Humble be hiding out in my trailer if he sent you here in the first place?”

Mag put a hoof to her mouth, a slow flush beginning to creep up her cheeks. “Why, I reckon you’re right! I just heard his name and, well, I just thought…" She turned to give Trixie a bright smile. “Well, what’s done is done. Water under the bridge!" Mag called out cheerfully as she trotted down the trailer’s steps and back toward the farmhouse. “Don’t worry, I’m not one for grudges!” Trixie heard her call back.

For a few seconds, Trixie just stood by the door, trying to process what happened as Mag’s hoofbeats receded. Suddenly she lunged for the door, leaning out and cupping a hoof to her mouth. “Hey!” she yelled at the retreating mare. “Give me back my cape!”

~~~

As she trotted through the stile that led into the south field, Trixie began to break out in a cold sweat. Some distance away, she could see Humble fussing with the contents of a large wagon, and her stomach began to knot.

What am I going to say to him? she thought, replaying their encounters of the last few days in her head. Just when you’ve written him off as an insane hillbilly, he says something caring and wise, just to go back to go back to crazy two seconds later! But... he tried to helpme! He listened to me!

As she neared, Humble poked his head up over the wagon. When their eyes met, he frowned and quickly lowered his head again, arranging the bundles with what, to Trixie, appeared to be excessive force. Unsure what to do next, Trixie stopped a few feet from him and cleared her throat.

“That’s, uh, a pretty nice wagon, Humble,” she began casually.

“Mmmm,” he grunted.

“Is it new? It looks new,” she continued, pretending to examine the wagon’s rough wooden bed.

“It’s the same wagon we’ve been usin’ all week, Trixie,” he said without looking up. Trixie squeezed her eyes closed, rubbing her forehead lightly with a hoof.

Get it together, Trixie! she thought, tapping herself with a hoof between the eyes. You’ve dined with Canterlot’s elite! Winning over one farmer shouldn’t be that hard! She reclined on the wagon beside Humble, crossing one hoof over the other. “So, where’s Mag?” she asked, running a hoof through her hair.

“She’s yonder,” Humble replied, waving vaguely at the farm house.

“She seems like quite a mare!”

“Mmmmm.”

Sighing, Trixie pushed herself off the wagon and sat down beside the pile of bundled packages Humble was loading. Swallowing hard, she hung her head low.

“Humble,” she said, sighing. Her words were little more than a whisper, “can we talk?”

The farmer grunted as he picked up another of the large bundles and hefted it into the bed. “Don’t see what we’ve to talk about, truth be told,” he said, stopping briefly to wipe his brow. “As I’ve said, rocks don’t much like idle conversation, and ‘sides, work gets done faster without all that jawin’. Celestia knows you’re eager to be on your way. Wouldn’t want anythin’ to get in the way of that!” Trixie winced at the anger in his voice.

“I-I didn’t mean that—” she began. As Humble whirled to face her, she involuntarily leaned away from him, her eyes widening.

“Is that so?” he growled. Trixie watched with concern as a vein near his temple pulsed. “Then what is it you’re meanin’? It’s been nothin’ but one attempt after another to shirk your responsibilities and shorten your stay since you got here!" He pulled out his pipe and jabbed it toward her for emphasis. “I’ve a mountain o’ sorrow for you, Trixie! You’ve probably never had it so bad as with me, doin’ an honest days work!" Snorting, he grabbed another bundle and slammed it into place.

“Humble, I…” Trixie said, swallowing hard. “It just came out wrong! I don’t mean to be… to be like..." Humble paused, leaning against the wagon, but didn’t turn around. Trembling, Trixie slowly walked over to him. “Can I tell you something, Humble?” Trixie said, her voice shaking. After a moment, the farmer nodded curtly and sat down. “I-I…” Trixie managed before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, Trixie closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Why am I doing this? she thought as she tried to quell the tremors in her hooves. It’s really none of his business. What do I care what he thinks of me?

Trixie jumped as she felt a hoof on her shoulder. Humble was gripping it gently, but firmly, his face equal parts bewilderment and concern. “Trixie, you confound me, you know that?” he said, sliding his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “One minute you make me mad enough to spit, the next you make me smile." Trixie’s eyes flicked up to the perpetual frown the farm wore. “Oh, ayuh. I’m not one for grinnin’. Truth be told, your antics aggravate me somethin’ fierce, but they remind me some of my youngest. Both of you make me smile here,” Humble said, tapping himself on the chest, “even when your mule-headedness is like to make my head explode. Only Mag and the girls done that to me before. No denyin’ you’ve made my week here somethin’ of a mess, but somethin’ tell me there’s bigger things a-hoof here than harvestin’ rocks.”

Humble gently led Trixie over to an overturned wooden crate and motioned for her to sit down. “Trixie, I don’t know what you think of fate, but I think maybe you ended up here on my farm for a reason,” Humble said, catching her eye. Trixie caught herself shaking and was relieved that she was off her hooves.

He really seems concerned! she thought, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to get her emotions back under control. Herheart was beating so fast in her chest that she was beginning to feel a little faint But… can I really trust him? Trixie looked up at him, twisting her hooves around each other.

“I’m just guessin’ here, but I reckon you’ve a powerful lot of hurt piled up, and no pony to talk to." Humble released her shoulder and sat down across from her, gesturing with his pipe for her to continue. “So talk.”

Author's Note

Special thanks to Dragonas77, EricKilla, Skeeter the Lurker, and Statoose for their help with pre-reading/editing!

And a very special UNTHANKS to Hasbro for giving the Pie family quasi-canon names in the middle of my fic! Thanks, M.A. Larson... err... I mean, HASBRO!

Between a Rock and a Hot Plate

The drawing of the wheel sat between Humble and Trixie like a ghost rising up from her past. A specter of accusation, threatening to once again roll over her, crushing her hopes and dreams. Glancing up, she caught Humble staring at her. Looking away quickly, he pretended to check the sky, and Trixie felt a rush of gratitude.

He doesn’t want me to be uncomfortable, she thought, a small smile creeping across her face, only to disappear as her eyes were pulled irresistibly back to the sketched wheel on the ground. It’s always there, she thought. Always following me. I’ll manage to get a little ahead in the world, and Muleiard just shows up again and tears it all down!

“Well, I reckon you’ve been carryin’ that heavy load for quite a spell, eh?” Humble finally said.

“Yes,” she replied softly, wishing her voice sounded more confident, but it was all she could do not to burst into tears again. “That school’s made my life a living hell.”

“Oh, ayuh. It’s plain that there’s truth in that.” Humble leaned forward, scooping up Trixie’s stick. “But the way I see it, there’s really two wheels.”

“What are you blathering about?” Trixie snapped, frowning. She dropped her eyes as Humble looked up, surprised. I slip on anger like an old saddle, she thought, I’ve worn it for so long that it just feels right. Swallowing, Trixie forced herself to meet his steady gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I-I’m just a little on edge.”

“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” Humble replied mildly, etching a second wheel in the ground in front of the first. “Now, we’ll call this wheel ‘Muleiard,’” he said, scratching the name in the dirt beneath the first wheel incorrectly twice before getting it right, “and we’ll call this wheel ‘Trixie’,” he continued, etching her name in the soft dirt.

“WHAT?!” Trixie thundered, jumping to her hooves. “How dare you?!”

Humble frowned deeply, his eyebrows slamming together to give him that look of profound irritation that Trixie had become so familiar with. “You’ve talked enough for three lifetimes over,” he growled from around his pipe, “but it seems to have landed you far afield. Why don’t you try listenin’ for a bit?”

For several long seconds, they stared at each other, snarling. Finally, Trixie threw up her hooves and sat down heavily, resting her cheek on her hoof. “Fine, whatever you want,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not about what I do or don’t want,” Humble said, poking his pipe in her direction. “It’s about what you need! You’ve been wronged, and wronged sorely, but you’ve a hoof in that, as well. More than a hoof, truth be told. No, don’t give me that!” he shouted as she opened her mouth angrily. “Nopony’s more responsible for your mess than you are! Now, about these wheels—”

“Humble Pie!” Mag said, stepping around the wagon. “Don’t you have one drop of compassion in that broken-down heart of yours?” Mag sat down delicately beside Trixie, and pulled out a familiar kerchief.

“Hey, that’s my—” Trixie began, reaching for the cloth.

“Shh, dear,” Mag replied, wrapping the kerchief securely around her hoof. In one swift motion, she ran it across her tongue and began rubbing the matted fur and tears beneath the unicorn’s eyes. “No, stop it!” Mag said, as Trixie sputtered and tried to pull back. “My, my, but you look a mess.”

“When—oof!” Trixie said as the matronly pony attacked the other side of her face with the kerchief. “When did you get here?”

“Oh, I’ve been listenin’ for about thirty minutes now,” Mag replied cheerfully, remoistening her kerchief. “At first, I reckoned you were tryin’ to lure my husband away with your feminine wiles!” she said, staring fiercely into Trixie’s eyes. “But then I caught your story, and I realized that Humble was just being a good father, like he’s always been to you girls.”

“Mag, what are you goin’ on about?” Humble said, frowning at the interruption.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Humble,” Mag said, running a hoof through Trixie’s mane to help restore some of it shape. “Our girls have always relied on you. Isn’t that right, Trixie?”

“Uh…” Trixie said, slowly turning to Humble. Her confusion was mirrored on his face, and he gave the smallest of shrugs.

“Mag,” he said gently. “Trixie’s not one of—”

“Oh, ain’t she?!” Mag shot back, and both Humble and Trixie blanched. “Let’s straighten a few things out!” Humble backed up slowly as Mag jumped up and advanced on him, poking at him with a hoof. “Did you have her pull the Lullaby Wagon?”

“Well, ayuh, but—”

“Seems like that’s normally my job,” Mag cut across, raising her voice. “And did she have a hoof in exercisin’ the rocks?”

Humble nodded stiffly, still walking backwards as his wife continued her verbal assault.

“Did she give the rock speech?”

He nodded again.

“And I saw her pullin’ down the rockfort with my own two eyes!” Mag said, nearly pressing her face against Humble’s.

“Funny, that’s not what you said you saw—” Humble replied as his rump bumped against the wagon. Mag had left him nowhere to retreat.

“The point is that those chores have been done by our family since this farm came into bein’!” Mag shouted. “Done by your hoof, or mine, or the girls!” Humble swallowed as Mag stared at him, her angry face inches away from him. Suddenly, she turned away, dropping down beside the nonplussed unicorn. “And now, done by Trixie!” she said, picking up the unicorn’s hoof in her own.

Trixie’s jaw dropped open as Mag’s eyes began to mist over. “She lost her folks, Humble,” Mag said, her voice thick with emotion. “She lost her folks, and then that awful school did everythin’ but protect her. Somepony’s got to be a guiding light!” Mag looked meaningfully back at Humble, and then squeezed Trixie’s hoof tightly. “Who better than us?”

Humble’s mouth dropped open. “Mag, you can’t just add ponies to our family! Why—”

“Don’t start with me, buster!” Mag growled back. “You treated her like family, and so she is!”

“I’m payin’ her!” Humble yelled back. “She’s under contract!”

“Well, you paid the girls for their time, too!” Mag shouted.

“That was different! They needed an allowance!”

“How?!” Mag thundered. “How was it any different?”

“BECAUSE SHE AIN’T OUR DAUGHTER, THAT’S HOW!” Humble bellowed.

The group fell silent as Humble’s words echoed off into the distance. Flushing, Humble looked away, staring off into the brilliantly blue sky and chewing on his pipe. Mag turned her head to follow his gaze, then twisted back to say something to Trixie, her mouth working wordlessly before she closed it again. Slowly, the mare’s face hardened and she rose, releasing Trixie’s hoof.

“Humble Pie,” she hissed softly. “I never thought the day would come when I’d say that I was ashamed of you!”

“Now you see here—” he said, whirling.

“No, you see here,” Mag said quietly, but with a conviction that demanded attention. “We’ve been given a chance here to pass on our blessings. We’ve had all the precious things this filly could only dream about, but you don’t want to share! How could you, Humble?!”

“She doesn’t want what we’ve got, Mag!” Humble said, pointing to where Trixie sat. “She’s wantin’ fame and fortune and the like! We’ve got rocks and hard work. Long hours and low pay!”

“No,” Mag said, turning and brushing Trixie’s hair gently with her hoof. For a moment, she fell silent, searching Trixie’s eyes with her own, nodding at what she found there. “What we’ve got is love. Love and respect and honesty,” Mag said finally, turning to nail Humble in place with an expression that spoke of iron. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it, Humble Pie!” she said. “You’ve been sittin’ with this filly for the last forty-five minutes, tryin’ your darndest in your ham-hoofed way to heal her hurts. I know you inside and out, and you can’t let this pass any more than I can.”

“But, Mag—”

“Go ahead!” Mag said, refusing to flinch. “Go right on ahead and say it. If you can, I’ll let it drop! Go on and tell her that you don’t want her around!”

Stunned, Trixie slowly swiveled her head to where Humble stood, flustered and fretting. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, making her feel hot and light-headed. A family? Trixie thought. Glancing down, she found that her hooves were twisting around each other. Taking a deep breath, she placed them between her hind legs, squeezing them until they stopped moving. Trixie stared back up at the farmer, her mouth suddenly very dry as the silence stretched out between them.

“Would…” Humble began, stopping to clear his throat. “I-I mean, is that somethin’… that’d you’d even want? To be part of an unsophisticated, backwoods gang like ours?”

Trixie meant to answer with confidence. She meant to thank them coolly for their offer; to let them know gently that she appreciated the gesture, but that she didn’t require it. She wanted to let them know that she was fine. That her travels had made her quite accustomed to solitude, and that she’d grown to prefer it.

But she didn’t.

Looking into Humble’s face, she understood. H-he’s as scared as I am! she thought, her mouth dropping open. He’s scared I’m going to reject him! He wants me here, in his family! They both want me! Trembling, Trixie reached out, embracing Mag and pulling her close. She tried to control it, but as the matronly mare wrapped her legs around the unicorn, Trixie began to cry. Softly at first, but building in intensity until her whole body shook. The pain of years and years of loneliness and heartache welled out of her has Mag gently rocked her, cooing soothingly into her ear. After a moment, Trixie started as Humble knelt down to wrap his legs around her, too.

“Yes!” she finally managed to choke out. “Yes, I want to be part of your family!”

~~~

“Then the dinner plate sits top of the charger. Yes, like that,” Mag said, eyeing Trixie’s work critically. “Now, mineral water to the left. Just there.”

“Look, is this really necessary?” Trixie said, wiping the sweat from her brow. The afternoon sun was beating down on her ferociously, and she wished for what seemed like the millionth time that she’d brought her wide-brimmed hat with her from the trailer. Trixie motioned with her hoof at the seemingly endless rows of picnic tables the Pies had set up in the pasture. “It’s going to take all night at this rate!”

“Nice of you to notice,” Humble grumbled as he pulled the heavily loaded wagon to the next set of benches. “Seems I recall sayin’ that a time or two.”

“Now, now, Humble. She’s new to this!” Mag chided, pulling more flatware from the wagon. “You’d be just as lost up on some stage.” Mag sat suddenly, placing the plates and silverware absently on the ground. “Speaking of… tell me a little bit about your shows, Trixie! Why, I bet—”

“Mag!” Humble yelled, sweeping his hoof expansively around the field. “The rocks…”

“My, my! I’m sorry,” Mag said, shaking her head briskly before flashing Trixie an apologetic smile. “I do get distracted so easily these days!”

“These days!” Humble mouthed silently, rolling his eyes. Despite the heat, Trixie found herself grinning. With a grunt, she lifted the heavy stack of plates and began arranging them on the rough wooden table.

“No, leave some room there,” Mag said, pushing the plates a little further apart. “The young rocks can be a bit messy. It’s best to give ’em a little space.” Mag eyed the table critically, then nodded. “Right, now that the table is set, we can show them the menus.”

“Menus?” Trixie said, staring at the mare incredulously. “Humble’s only made one—”

“SHH!” the stallion hissed, waving his hooves to silence her.

“Oh, we know, but the rocks prefer it when they think they’ve got some say-so,” Mag whispered, cupping a hoof around Trixie’s ear. “They’re a little willful at this age. Hard-headed.” Mag lunged suddenly into the wagon, and Humble grimaced as unseen items under the canvas tarp behind him banged and clattered. “Ah, here we go!” Mag said finally, pulling out a large stack of menus. “Just pick the rocks up from the bench and put ’em on the plates.”

“Carefully!” Humble added.

“What?!” Trixie said, her eyes darting back and forth between the farmers.

“Look, I’ll go through it, but we’ve got to get a move on,” Humble said, sighing. He briefly checked the sun’s position and shook his head. “If they’re goin’ to grow right, rocks need a balanced diet. They’d try to get away with rock candy day in and day out if you’d let ’em, but here at Rocky Road farm, we follow a strict system of nutrition!”

“That’s right, dear!” Mag added. “But we try to make it both good and good for them!” Opening a menu, she thrust it into Trixie’s face. “See?”

Pulling her head back, Trixie pursed her lips and snatched the menu from the eager mare’s hoof. Scanning it, she felt the familiar pain behind her eyes begin to build. Everything about rock farming seemed designed to give her a headache.

Appetizers

Aged Rockfort Cheese, paired with Stone Ground Water Crackers and Mineral Water

Soup of the Day

Minestony

Dinner

Fresh Rock Lobster, served with a Harden Salad, Sautéed Karats and Pea Gravel, with fresh slices of Bastone Bread

Dessert

Moist and Delectable Marble Cake

“You want me to show this menu to each and every rock?” Trixie said faintly as she let her eyes travel slowly across the vast sea of tables.

“Well, not before we get ’em settled in,” Mag said, lifting the closest rock from its place on the wagon. With practiced care, she gently set the rock in the middle of the plate. “You gotta place ’em just so, or else they might not get a full meal.”

Trixie rubbed her temple vigorously, trying to quickly count the benches. “But there are hundreds of rocks here!” she said. “We’ll never get it done this way! It would take days, even if we never took any breaks!”

Humble cleared his throat, frowning at Trixie. “It’s what comes of dragging your hooves!” he said. “It can’t be helped. We were a-needin’ to start this yesterday, but I’m sorry to say we’re far behind schedule. If the rocks don’t get fed by tonight, they won’t be top-grade. This is the critical growth period!”

“But it’s impossible!” Trixie shouted, whirling on the stallion before looking away, sighing. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, stretching out a placating hoof. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but setting the tables? Showing menus to rocks? Serving every single one?” Trixie turned, sweeping her hoof in a wide arc in front of her. “Humble, I can’t even count all of the benches!”

“Oh, ayuh, it’s a whopper of a job!” Humble growled from around his pipe. “And the sooner we start, the sooner it’s over with. While we sit here jawin’, the day is wearin’ on and—”

“Why don’t you use your magic, dear?” Mag said cheerfully. Both Humble and Trixie turned slowly to face the mare.

“Well…” Trixie said, cringing slightly. Her heart sank as she watched Mag’s face light up.

“Just think about it, Humble!” Mag said, clasping her hooves together in front of her chest. “Why, we’ve never had a unicorn help out before! I’ll bet she’ll get it done lickety-split!”

Trixie gulped loudly, her eyes darting back and forth between the pair. On one side, Mag’s hopeful face beamed back at her. On the other, Humble wore a pained expression as he rubbed the side of his face with his hoof.

“Mag,” Humble said, “Trixie… uh, well… she’s not…”

“I can’t do magic!” Trixie blurted, as the blood rushed to her face. “I mean… I-I’m no good at it.” Trixie’s eyes dropped to the ground. “I never have been.” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Well, I can do a little, but—”

“Oh, pish-posh!” Mag said, swatting Trixie playfully with her tail. “You’re a unicorn, ain’t you? Hasn’t been a unicorn born that wasn’t good at magic.” Mag pulled back the canvas tarpaulin, revealing stacks of dishes. “Now, why not give it a go?”

“But—”

“Ah-ah!” Mag said, grinning. “No ‘buts’!”

“Ah, Mag—” Humble said, eyeing the delicate stoneware.

“Not a word, Humble,” Mag said, running her kerchief over Trixie’s horn a few times. “I believe in her, and you should, too. She’s family, and she won’t let us down!”

Family, Trixie thought, her mind rapidly cycling through a thousand memories. How long has it been since I’ve really thought of my family? She remembered skinning a knee as a filly, her mother rocking her as she cried. Her father reading to her beside her bed. And she gasped as she suddenly remembered when they’d told her that she was the most magical unicorn they’d ever seen.

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, and they’d been snuggled down in the living room of their house beneath a blanket. Her father had been making them laugh with funny stories about his job as a talent scout for a record company, and Trixie had wanted to make them laugh, too. Reaching out with her magic, she’d animated the various ornaments around the room, commanding them to re-enact her father’s tales.

Her parents sat, stunned, as the room came to life. All around them, puppets and figurines capered, teased, and argued with one another. Wide-eyed and laughing, her father grabbed her up, lifting her high in the air and spinning around. Trixie laughed hysterically, then sighed happily as her parent wrapped her tightly in their embrace.

Then they’d asked her a thousand questions. How did she do it? Had she done magic before? Had any of her friends seen it yet? Finally, they’d told her that she was very special, and that no unicorn they’d ever seen had done such advanced magic at such an early age, and neither of them had ever heard of one doing it untrained!

For months afterwards, they guided her, showing her the ins and outs of magic use. They told her that she was a prodigy, and that with hard work, she might be the most magical pony who’d ever lived. Shortly afterward, the Muleiard invitation had arrived. Her parents had been apprehensive about sending their daughter away to a boarding school, but Trixie had become focused on self-improvement. She would not be swayed from her destiny.

They were so excited to help me back then! she thought, tearing up. My family! I just wanted to make them happy that night, but, somehow, it all became about me…

“Trixie, dear!” Mag said, laying a hoof lightly on the unicorn’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“My family!” Trixie said, her voice growing husky. “I left my family to go to Muleiard! I left them behind without even a goodbye, and then I was so mad that they’d died and left me that I… I made myself forget about them! I didn’t want to remember them!

“Uh…” Humble said, his gaze shifting uncertainly from his wife to the unicorn and back again.

Trixie said, turning to stare directly at him. “I-I think I finally understand!” she said, swallowing hard. “My magic! I left it behind when I left them behind! It worked when I was trying to make ponies happy, but all this time, I’ve just been trying to make myself happy.”

“That’s right, dear!” Mag said, beaming. “We’re all stronger when we give to others. That’s what family is all about. You’re one of us,” Mag continued, patting Trixie on the shoulder, “and we love you and believe in you.” Stepping back, Mag pointed to the rows of tables, her smile faltering a little. “And right now, we need you.”

It was faint, at first. So faint that it took Trixie several seconds to realize the change, but as Humble and Mag backed away, wide-eyed, she realized that it must be real. A coursing stream of power, starting from her heart and spreading slowly through her body. A surging wave of warmth and happiness that had been absent since her fillyhood. “I-I can feel it!” she cried, her mane floating around her in a halo as magic arced from her horn. “I can feel the magic in the air around me! It’s flowing into me!”

Turning to the cart, she reached out with her arcane power, mentally feeling each place setting. It’s almost foal’s play! she thought as she lifted hundreds of dishes into the air. Laughing, she separated them and sent them flying over the rows of benches to land in precise rows.

“That’s it!” Mag squealed, jumping and punching her hoof into the air, pausing only to knock Humble’s gaping mouth closed. “You’ll draw flies, dear!” she said, her eyes sparkling as she laughed.

Closing her eyes, Trixie concentrated, grabbing hundreds of rocks and lifting them into the air. With the delicacy and control of a master artist, she placed them all on their plates, following up with the menus which descended on the tables like a bizarre flock of birds.

Humble’s mouth worked wordlessly for several moments. “You did it!” Humble said finally.

Trixie opened her eyes again to look back at the farmer. His cheeks were wet with tears.

“You did it!” he cried again, beaming. “I despaired for our crop this year, but you did it!” Unlatching himself from the wagon, he ran to Trixie, lifting the surprised mare into the air and twirling her in a circle. “I knew you had somethin’ special inside you!” Setting her down, he enveloped the unicorn in a fierce hug, and Trixie felt her eyes welling again.

“Well, she’s not done yet,” Mag said in a business-like tone. “The rocks are still a-waitin’ to get fed.”

“Right,” Trixie said, struggling to keep from rolling her eyes. “Feed the rocks.” Reaching out again, she lifted the multitude of pots and trays high into the air and sent them to work.

~~~

“No, and I won’t hear another word about it!” Mag shouted, the color rising on her cheeks. Both Trixie and Humble took a few cautious steps back as she bared her teeth at them. “Family stays together! I won’t have you sleepin’ outside when there’s room enough in our empty house. Now, c’mon.” Mag turned, trotting off toward the farmhouse.

“It’s like she’s a whole different pony,” Trixie said, shooting Humble a perplexed glance.

“Oh, ayuh. She’s always been like that,” Humble sighed, shaking his head. “Changes as the wind blows. She’ll be happy, then sad. Angry one minute and laughin’ the next. Folks around here all think she’s a bit odd, and I reckon she is.”

Humble rebuckled the harness of the wagon around his chest. “Whew! It’s almost a joy to pull this thing around empty. Anyway, she’s got a reputation for unpredictability, but there’s a core of steel in that mare the likes of which Equestria has never known.” Humble grinned, puffing out his chest. “I wouldn’t trade her for the world. She’s a headache from time to time, but a pony couldn’t ask for a better wife or mother.”

“Did you mean what you said back there, Humble?” Trixie asked quietly, dropping her eyes to the ground as they walked. She found herself dragging her hooves as fatigue set in. That unfamiliar use of magical power had left her drained.

“Ayuh,” he replied, glancing at the unicorn questioningly. “Mag’s always been—”

“No,” Trixie said. “I mean, when you said that you saw something special in me.” Trixie stopped, suddenly unsure. “What… what do you see?”

“Workin’ a job like this,” he said, pointing to the fields with a hoof, “you learn to judge character. Farmin' not a job that you can do without guts and determination. Now, I fussed at you plenty over these few days,” he continued, glaring at the unicorn sternly, “and you deserved every bit of it, but did you ever stop to wonder why I didn’t send you packin’ the minute you got here?”

“Well, I—” Trixie started.

“You! A city mare with delicate hooves!” Humble continued, raising his voice. “Arrivin’ on my farm lookin’ like she’d never done a lick of work in her life, but she was dusty from the road. Pulled a heavy trailer the whole way here behind her.” Humble winked at the unicorn. “I didn’t miss that. Only a pony who knows a thing or two about hard work would do that. Then I find out that the trailer has all your magical doo-dads and whizbangs and who knows what else. You brought ’em here because you’d never think of doin’ less than your best, even though the load was heavy as all get out.”

Arriving at the barn, Humble backed the wagon into its usual place. “Then I started assignin’ tasks, and what a fiasco it was. I had this vain, stubborn unicorn fightin’ every step of the way, but in the end, she did what was needed. In fact, she did it the best she could, even if she didn’t realize it.”

Humble unbuckled the harness, rolling his shoulders to ease his aching joints. After a few satisfying cracks, he walked to Trixie, placing his hooves on her shoulders. “So what did I see?” he asked her solemnly. “I saw a mare who was ready to work. She wanted to be the best and to do the best, but she’d been shown the wrong path at some point, and it’s a hard thing to know you’re on the wrong path until somepony shows you that there are different paths to be on. I believed you had it in you to find a new path because you knew how to work hard, and changin’s about the hardest thing a pony can do.”

“But… you were so mad earlier,” Trixie said in a small voice. “You… you didn’t want me around…”

The words hung in the air between them, each finding it difficult to look at the other. Finally, Humble cleared his throat. “Well,” he said slowly, “I can’t say that I’m proud of that. It’s a tough thing to have kindness thrown back at you. You’d already said you couldn’t wait to leave the farm behind quick as you could.” Humble made a show of arranging several nearby tools that were already in immaculate rows. “And that means leavin’ me behind, as well,” he finally finished.

“I’m sorry,” Trixie said, reaching out to him. “I’d been lost for so long that I’d forgotten what help looked like.” Tentatively, she lightly embraced the stallion, then tightening the grip. “But I’m glad I found it! Thank you, Humble.”

Humble patted her legs with a hoof. “We’d best be getting’ back to the house,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Mag would probably lose her mind if she found us like this.”

~~~

“Have you lost your mind, Mag?!” Humble cried the mare slammed the sledgehammer into the farmhouse’s stony exterior. “Just what do you think your doin’?” Galloping forward, he snatched the massive tool from the mare, running a hoof over the wall to inspect it for damage.

“Well, she can’t get that trailer in through the door, can she?” Mag said, throwing her hooves out beside her.

“She’s not needin’ the trailer in the house!” Humble barked, snatching off his hat to run his hoof through his thinning mane. “Use some sense, Mag! She can sleep in one of the girls’ rooms!”

“But—”

“It’s okay!” Trixie said, trying to calm the storm she could see building inside the mare. “I’m, uh, looking forward to sleeping somewhere other than the trailer for once,”

“Really, dear?” Mag said, tilting her head slightly to the side as she smiled. “My, my! But I’ll bet it does get stuffy in there! Okay, have it your way, then.” Thrusting a hoof into her bun, she pulled out a large key.

“Don’t ask,” Humble said quietly as Trixie cocked an eyebrow at him.

Mag inserted the key, jiggling back and forth and swearing under her breath. “You never do get around to replacin’ this ol’ thing, do you?” she said, scowling at Humble.

“Well, you know how the young rocks feel about new metal!” he snapped. “You want a stampede on our hooves just so you don’t have to twist a key a few times?”

Mag turned to Trixie, rolling her eyes elaborately, and Trixie had to fight back a fit of laughter. “Like the rocks come to the house!” Mag muttered as she opened the door.

Inside, the farmhouse was meticulously maintained, but every bit as dull as the surrounding land. Quaint grey furniture sat against slightly darker grey walls, all set off by lighter grey accoutrements. Trixie ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, nodding. What else did I expect? she thought.

“I’ll show you to your room, dear,” Mag said, trotting up a set of stairs that had blended so perfectly into the grey wall behind them that Trixie had missed them entirely. Testing it with her hoof, she slowly ascended behind the mare. The unrelenting grey on grey was almost like an optical illusion, and she found navigating the stairway to be more difficult than it seemed.

“Here we are,” Mag said airily as she reached the second level. “Oh, just a warning—”

The warning came too late. Suddenly, Trixie’s eyes were assaulted by a riot of color. Gripping the bannister tightly, she fought back a wave of dizziness.

“Careful!” Mag said, throwing a leg around her and pulling her up the last riser. “My, my! I should know better! That’s Pinkamena’s room. It strikes everypony that way.” Mag shook her head. “I wonder where my mind is sometimes, Trixie. You’d think I’d know by now to close the door when we have company, but…” Mag paused, stroking the bright yellow door jamb with her hoof, “… it reminds me of her when I see it.” Sighing, she closed the door. “I’ll set you up in here,” she said, pushing open the next door down the hallway.

Poking her head in, Trixie smiled at the simple furnishings. Once she would have sneered at the small bed with its homespun quilt, but she was so physically and emotionally drained that the bedding seemed fit for Celestia herself. Trixie tested the mattress with her hoof, and was delighted to find that it was soft, yet supportive. As Mag busied herself pulling out fresh pillowcases and opening the closets, Trixie stretched out, allowing herself to sink into the bed.

“Now, I’ll get started with dinner, but you can have a snack if—”

Mag turned suddenly as a soft snore interrupted her. On the bed, Trixie had fallen asleep. “Oh, the poor dear,” Mag said, pulling the quilt over the exhausted unicorn. “I’ll just leave some crackers and a glass of water here for her.” Turning off the light, Mag quietly closed the door.

That night, Trixie slept soundly for the first time since her parents had died.

Rockupational Training - An Interlude into Trixie's Past

Rockupational Training – An Interlude into Trixie’s Past

For a moment, Trixie considered just bolting from the farm and never looking back. It’s not so far to Las Pegasus! she thought. I’d have to get a new cart, of course, but I could start over. I could get a mane dye and take a new stage name, and—

Humble cleared his throat. Whipping her eyes back to him, she saw that he was holding his hat up to block the mid-day sun. “You’ve got the look of a filly that’s thinkin’ about runnin’, and I’d say it’s goin’ to be a hot day for it,” he said, squinting up at the sun. “Besides,” he continued, locking eyes with her, “ain’t you done enough runnin’ already?”

Sighing, Trixie slowly sat near the farmer, hanging her head. “Yeah,” she whispered quietly. “I’m pretty tired. I’m tired of everything.” Pawing at the loose dirt between them, Trixie drew a wand with stars shooting out of it. “I was a prodigy, you know?” Trixie glanced up Humble, smiling bitterly. “They’d never seen a filly with such potential. My mother and father were so very proud. You’ve probably never heard of Muleiard, but it’s very prestigious art academy. Only the best of the best get invited to attend. I’d never been so happy as the day that letter arrived.

“A few weeks later, they sent a carriage and away I went, waving back to mother and father.” Trixie said, adding a filly to hold her sketched wand. “My mother was crying, but I was too excited to be sad. The truth is, I couldn’t wait to be away from that boring small town. I wanted excitement and fame! I wanted to be somepony!”

“Oh, it was rigorous there,” she said, smiling. “Far more challenging than anything I’d experienced before. I’ll admit that I was a little surprised that they moved me so quickly from the Entertainment Magic Studies to the more liberal arts, but I assumed it was because my magical superiority was so obvious.” Trixie added a stage and an audience of delighted faces to her sketch. “Once I settled into my new classes, though, I couldn’t get enough! They taught me how to act and to dance. I was instructed on projection and stage presence. It was all that I’d ever dreamed of!”

Tearing up, Trixie slashed her hoof across the drawing, destroying it. “Then one day, I was called into the dean’s office. I had no idea of what I might have done wrong, but when I got there, it was packed with guards, teachers, and plenty of other ponies I’d never seen before. The dean asked me to have a seat.”

“Have you ever known true pain, Humble?” she asked, glancing up to note his growing concern. “I hadn’t until that day. Not really. But that day, the day they told me about the fire, I truly understood what it meant to hurt.”

“You mean your parents—” Humble gasped.

“Yes,” Trixie cut in quickly. I’ve got to keep talking or I’ll never be able to do this. Tears began cascading down her cheeks, landing on her ruined drawing, and for the first time since her fillyhood, she didn’t try to stop them. “They told me that there’d been a fire at our house, and that both my mother and father had been killed. My mother had been trapped under a falling wall and father refused to leave her. They say he fought until the end, but the fire had escalated quickly, trapping him inside.” Trixie’s voice began to shake. “By the time the fireponies arrived, it was an inferno.”

“Trixie, that’s a terrible burden for so young a filly,” Humble said, patting her hoof with his own. “Life takes cruel turns, sometimes.”

“Yes, I thought so, too, but that wasn’t the end. I was about to learn how cruel life could really be,” Trixie said, rubbing her tears away with the back of her hoof. “Muleiard has a special fund set up for just such occurrences, but apparently I was the first filly that had ever actually needed it. I was to be the first ‘Ward of Muleiard’,” she said, sitting up straight and pressing a hoof to her heart while closing her eyes solemnly. “Oh, it was my choice, of course, but what was a young filly with stars in her eyes going to say? I’d just lost my parents. How could I lose my dreams, as well?

“Lost in my despair, I began to struggle through my classes,” Trixie continued, her voice filling with shame. “Where once I’d breezed through every test, I now fought for even an average grade.” Trixie stood and began to pace. She felt like a raw, exposed nerve, and each word sent a new jolt of pain through her body. “Nopony at Muleiard would be so crass as to come out and say it, but I could read the signs. The staff was beginning to feel that I was a waste of time. I was moved into new, smaller quarters at the edge of the campus. Where once I was given as much instruction as I requested, suddenly I began encountering teachers with full schedules. They did nothing as the other foals worked to block me out of key positions.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Humble said, scratching behind his ear. “The other foals managed that how, exactly?”

“Muleiard is a very interesting academy,” Trixie said, her mouth curling into a bitter sneer. “‘Total preparation for the real world of entertainment’. They must have told us that ten times a day. You see, when a play is being cast or a symphony is planned, the students are left to work the roles and positions out for themselves. It’s a group exercise that’s supposed to foster a team mentality. The show must come first, and you are expected to display the ability to step up or step aside. No director should ever have to tell you that you are wrong for the role.”

“But that’s… that’s…” Humble sputtered. “You can’t saddle young’uns with that sort of responsibility! They lack perspective!”

“You can at Muleiard,” Trixie answered, smiling sadly. “We were gifted! We were treated as special and expected to be special. If you were merely exceptional, you moved to the back of the class and were forgotten.” Humble shook his head in disgust.

“That’s what happened to me!” Trixie said through gritted teeth. After all these years, the memories still burn! she thought. “I’d cry myself to sleep, and in my dreams, my parents would die over and over again. I’d wake from an hour or two of rest and I’d be a wreck for the rest of the day, which made me cry even harder when I returned to my solitary dorm room. I was cracking and everypony knew it.

It finally came to a head in my advanced acting course. I was stumbling through a scene, and the other ponies began snickering, then outright laughing. They didn’t even try to hide it, and eventually they drowned me out entirely. Finally, I just stood there, in the spotlight, as the laughter rolled over me.” Humble winced as Trixie’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but her unfocused eyes told him that her mind was far away. “Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I ran to the instructor.” Trixie’s eyes refocused on Humble and her voice began to shake as she struggled to maintain control of her emotions. “B-but, he was l-laughing, too! Oh, not as hard or as loud, but he wasn’t hiding it. He suggested that maybe I should just take the rest of the day off.”

Humble cocked his head to the side, tapping on his chin with his hoof. “Well, I can’t say I care for his behavior none, but it might be that a break would be just the thing. No shame in that, I’d say.”

“Humble, this is Muleiard!” Trixie snarled, causing the farmer to jump. “Taking a break is tantamount to academic suicide! The show must go on! Foals that need to take a break are dismissed!” Trixie’s furious eyes bored into Humble for a moment before she dropped his gaze and slowly lowered herself back into a sitting position. “Telling me to take a break was his way of letting me know that Muleiard was no longer interested in me.”

“So I did the only thing I could do,” Trixie continued, her voice taking on a hard edge. “I pushed it all down. I forgot about my parents and my sadness. I pushed it all away and I began to excel again. But it was too late. The other students had seen blood in the water, and they banded together to block me, no matter how much better I was for the roles.” Trixie slammed a hoof into the ground, fuming. “In truth, they probably were waiting for the opportunity! When I arrived, I made quite a stir. I’m sure they were quite jealous. After my amazing performance in my first year and receiving my cutie mark on stage, I must have seemed invincible.

“Since I was given the worst roles, I worked to steal every performance!” Trixie said, as her horn began to shine. Humble watched as translucent images of a younger Trixie filled the air. Often there were several dozen foals on stage, and she was always in the background, but he found his eyes irresistibly returning to her. “If I was to strike the triangle only once in the entire symphonic movement, well, I made sure to strike it with flair! If I was given as assignment as a Background Pony #3 in the new play, I made sure the audience knew I was there somehow. That’s the thing about Muleiard, each performance is in front of a live outside audience. That way they always know that the reaction is genuine.” Humble jumped as Trixie suddenly rose, clenching a hoof in front of her and twisting her mouth into something halfway between a snarl and a grin. “They tried to tear me down, but the audience was the one thing my classmates couldn’t control, and I was winning the crowd over with each outing!” Above Trixie, the audiences silently rose to their feet, slamming their hooves together with gusto when she came out to take a bow. “Rave reviews were pouring in, and grudgingly, I was given better and better roles!”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Humble said uncertainly. From the far-away look in the unicorn’s eyes, he wasn’t even sure that she remembered he was there anymore. After a moment, the savage joy left her face, replaced by a angry curl in her lip.

“Good?” she spat. “No, that was just the beginning of the fight!” Her mane bristling, Trixie paced as the memories flooded back, the images playing out for Humble above her head. “Outperformed, my classmates just became more underhoofed. I would be given the wrong rehearsal times and then excused from the production for being ‘unprofessional’. A revised version of the script would be distributed to everypony but me, causing me to miss my cues and blocking. Instruments would be ‘lost’ before the performances. Costumes would be created and mine would mysteriously be three sizes too small on opening night.”

“Good night, filly!” Humble said, his mouth dropping open. “Is it really worth all that? Surely there were other schools!”

“Oh, yes. There are others,” Trixie snarled, pacing even faster as her pulse raced. “Greatly respected across Equestria!” She stopped to stare at Humble, shaking her head. “But they’re not Muleiard! Besides, it wasn’t even about the prestige at that point. It was about proving them wrong!” Trixie said, her mane bristling. “Those students made my life a living hell and the teachers did nothing!” Stopping for a moment, Trixie took a few deep breaths, and then flashed Humble the most cynical of smiles. “You see, if they’d stepped in, that would be an admission that something was wrong, and above all other things, those instructors revere that school! They’d rather let a young filly die on stage than admit their system had any faults!”

Humble opened his mouth, but Trixie continued on, unable to stop. The wound had festered within her for so long that the she was unable to stem to tide. “Still, through it all, I fought!” she said, thrusting her chest out proudly. “I never regained my position at the top of the class, but despite everything they tried, I worked my way back into the top ten percent! Newspapers and magazine reviews mentioned me by name as a pony to watch! But it was back to square one with each performance and I had to fight and kick and bite every step of the way.”

Trixie glanced up at the floating illusion above them, and concentrated briefly, changing the scene to a school auditorium. Despite himself, Humble’s mouth curled slightly upward as he saw the filly unicorn beaming with happiness in her ceremonial graduation mortarboard and gown. However, Trixie only gave the image the briefest of glances before she dropped her eyes. “Finally, I reached the end of my studies. Graduation from Muleiard is a media event, and all the biggest talent scouts and studio heads show up to snap up the up-and-comers. I was so proud! Despite everything that happened, I hadn’t given up.” Humble reached out in alarm as Trixie sat suddenly, a primal wail of despair erupting from her throat.

“I-I was s-so stupid!” she said, breaking into tears. “I r-really thought I’d made it. I’d brought my grades up to top levels! M-my performances were flawless time and time again. I thought I’d really p-proven myself!”

Not sure what to do, Humble draped a leg around Trixie’s shoulder and squeezed. She turned toward him, resting her head against his neck. As her body shook, he gently patted her on the back.

“Th-they s-skipped my n-n-name, Humble!” Trixie said, nearly screaming. “We were ranked in order of overall grade. I was eleven ponies from the front, but when they got to me, they just called out the name of the pony behind me, and went on from there!” Trixie pulled back, her face frozen in shame and despair. “I was just standing there, like an idiot, in front of the biggest names in entertainment, and the other students were just marching around me as their names were called. Finally, after who knows how many ponies were called, I ran. I ran and I hid in the bathroom and I cried and cried and cried.”

“Back in my dormroom, I spent the entirety of that long, lonely night replaying it all over and over in my mind,” Trixie said, her voice taking on an ugly edge. “I thought I’d played their little game pretty well, but there they were, changing the rules at the end. It took a few hours in that dark bedroom to get over the initial shock, but when I did…” Humble pulled his head back, squirming under Trixie’s furious glare. “… I got angry! Angrier than I’ve ever been in my life! They needed to pay for what they’d done! They needed to admit they were wrong!”

Trixie climbed to her hooves once more, and began pacing. “The next day I marched into the dean’s office and demanded an explanation!” Trixie stopped and rolled a bloodshot eye over to Humble. “Oh, I was steaming mad! I kicked open the door, and it startled his secretary so much that she dropped the coffee mug she’d been filling and she ended up tripping over a potted plant!”

Trixie closed her eyes briefly and an office tastefully decorated in burnished teak replaced the graduation ceremony. A dignified-looking brown stallion with a neatly trimmed beard and spectacles sat calmly behind a large and well-organized desk, while the younger Trixie silently screamed at him. “The dean was just sitting there, hooves folded in front of him, like he didn’t have a care in the world!” Trixie said, snarling. “I just tore into him, Humble! I really let him have it! But he just sat there with this look of disappointment that made me want to smack him! Finally, when I’d exhausted my list of complaints, he asked me what I’d really learned at the school.”

“Well, I thought that was my opportunity, so I launched into a review of my classes, making sure to indicate how hard I had fought to improve myself and how aggressively I had pursued each and every role, but…”

Lines of misery creased Trixie’s face once more as she slumped to the ground. “H-he stood up and leaned over his desk, getting right up into my f-face. He told me that I’d failed to graduate from Muleiard because I hadn’t learned the most important lesson! The lesson that was taught in class after class, year after year. That the show must come first! He said the instructors hadn’t missed the way that I’d fought for the spotlight, always drawing attention to myself, or how I’d schemed, and yes, cheated my way to larger roles.” Grinding her teeth, Trixie wiped her eyes so furiously that bruises began forming on her cheeks. Humble politely busied himself with inspecting his spotless pipe as the unicorn took a few deep, steadying breaths. “He told me that I was becoming a diva,” she continued after a few moments, “and that kind of behavior proved that I was unsuitable for any production company of merit.”

Trixie reached out and grabbed Humble behind the neck, yanking the surprised farmer toward her. “So I asked him what I was expected to do!” she said, yelling into Humble’s face as he tried to scramble backward. However, Trixie’s strength seemed to have magnified, powered by her rage and shame, and he was held fast as his hooves drew deep furrows in the soft dirt. “Was I to allow ponies with half of my talent to box me out of roles out of jealousy? Was I brought into Muleiard to learn to be ‘chimney-sweep #6’?”

“He just sighed in disgust and sat down heavily in his chair. Refusing to even look at me again, he reiterated that I’d missed the point entirely! He said that sometimes life in the arts seems unfair, but hard work and team spirit will usually pay off if you have talent. He said that the cream generally rises to the top, and if I had just concentrated on making the performances better as a whole, I would have gotten the roles eventually. Instead, I shunted others aside, stealing the spotlight that they themselves had worked for. He said that is why I didn’t graduate, though given my circumstances and lack of parental guidance, Muleiard was prepared to give me one more year to try and make something of myself.”

“Well, uh, I suppose that was somethin’, at least…” Humble said, trailing off as he continued to pry off Trixie’s ironclad grip, but she held firm. She’s drownin’! he thought, studying the desperation in her eyes. She’s drownin’ in memories and I’m the lifeline. Using both hooves, he finally broke her grip, but continued to hold her hoof as she trembled.

“I-I couldn’t believe it! Muleiard had betrayed me!” Trixie said, spitting out the school’s name like a curse. “After everything that I’d gone through! After my parents, and the other students and the professors! After all of that, the school itself had betrayed me!”

“Well, but that fella was tryin’ to—” Humble began as he patted Trixie’s hoof.

“They betrayed me!” Trixie screamed, blowing Humble’s hat backward. Blanching, he quickly snatched it out of the air and plopped it back into place. “It was at that moment that I decided that I didn’t need any other ponies!” Trixie said, curling her other hoof tightly in front of her chest. “My father chose to die with my mother, leaving me all alone!”

“Well, here now! Wait a min—” Humble began, his expression hardening again.

“In their jealousy, those students did everything in their power to sabotage my success,” Trixie continued, raising her voice, “while the instructors looked the other way! And then, finally, the dean! My last hope!” Trixie whipped her head back up, snarling into Humble’s face. “I was better than the rest of that sad school put together! I could outperform half the instructors in every discipline by my senior year! Well, I’d had enough of other ponies! I decided from that point on, The Great and Powerful Trixie was on her own!”

“Oh, did I rub their faces in it!” Trixie said, a feral grin spreading across her face. Concentrating, she updated the images that floated above them, illustrating several small town shows inside seedy bars and in darkened public squares. “Instead of playing in the largest, most prestigious halls in Equestria, I took my act on the road, playing for small towns and military garrisons. I went to places that had never seen a real performance, and I really gave them a show!” The illusions shimmered in the air, and Humble muttered disapprovingly at the opulent decadence of the private ballrooms in what looked to be very wealthy estates. “Soon word began to spread and I was invited to the private parties of Equestria’s movers and shakers. Influential ponies with both a curious nature and an influential voice! I made sure to let them know that Muleiard’s had tossed me aside. Some of them even remembered me from the graduation ceremony and couldn’t believe that a pony of such obvious ability had been snubbed. Several of them even withdrew their funding from the institute.”

“But the road was hard, Humble,” Trixie said. “While I made a name for myself, it didn’t happen overnight. I was balked at every turn by dishonest promoters, unenlightened hecklers, and rivals from Muleiard that whispered lies in the ears of anyone who would listen!”

“Well, what were they sayin’?” Humble asked breathlessly, before shaking his head and settling back into his familiar frown. She’s a crackin’ good storyteller! he though. Here I am tryin’ to give some advice, and I’m getting’ lost in the tale like some wet-nosed schoolcolt.

Trixie sat up straight, thrusting her nose into the air and flipping her hair dismissively in that way that set Humble’s teeth on edge whenever he saw it. “They said that the Great and Powerful Trixie hadn’t lived up to Muleiard’s standards. They said that she was an inferior performer!” Trixie narrowed her eyes, a growl rumbling in her chest. “Worst of all, they said that she didn’t graduate!”

Humble scratched under his hat, raising an eyebrow. “But, you didn’t grad—”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie did graduate!” Trixie yelled, her eyes flashing. “She did! Oh, she might not have gotten their precious diploma, but The Great and Powerful Trixie outperformed everypony in that school, and under conditions that they couldn’t begin to bear! That was her diploma!"

Maybe it’d be best to just let this play out, Humble thought, rolling his eyes as Trixie shook with rage. Might be that we’ve come through the darkest hours, but she’s still not seen the light.

As her breathing began to slow, Trixie scanned Humble’s wary expression and bit her lip. Turning away from his scrutiny, she continued, lowering her ears as she poked at the dirt once more. “Here I thought that I was done with them, but still they followed me, trying again and again to ruin what was left of my life! Muleiard! The great academy! The epicenter of pony cultural education! Look,” Trixie said, scratching a small circle in the soft dirt again with her hoof, “Muleiard believes all the arts are connected. Dancing,” she said, drawing a line from the circle. “Vocal Training,” she continued, drawing another line opposite the first. “Stagecraft. Acting. Classical Instrument. And Entertainment Management and Production.” she finished, drawing a final line. “Muleiard believes that when these traditions are executed at their highest levels, it moves all ponykind forward as a species.” Trixie drew a large circle, connecting all the radial lines. “That’s why this is their symbol.”

Humble glanced down at the rough drawing and gasped. In that instant, so many things fell into place. There, scratched in the dirt between them, was a wheel.