This story begins, like many, in a den of tales. Known better to some as a bar. However, there is no one in the corner, weaving a tale and casting it across a crowd that is hanging on their every word. In fact, there are no other patrons in the bar at all. The bar has closed half an hour ago, but the lights are still on, and Sudsy the bartender is still pouring drinks. The day has been long, and he wishes to go home to his wife, but the presence of a little mare forces him to fulfill his duty.
That little pony is known to the town as Fiddlesticks. She has a dark, indigo mane and a creamy coat that not even the bar’s dim lighting could damper. On the counter next to her sits her beloved fiddle, a beautiful instrument that she has gotten as a present from her cousin, Octavia. Fiddlesticks never lets the instrument out of her sight. This is not only because of sentimental values, but for practical reasons as well. The only reason why she is still in the bar with Sudsy is because she had been the entertainment for the night.
After a long day, the townsfolk had piled into the bar, smelling of sweat and hard, honest work. They noisily scraped chairs, made their toasts, and talked about their days with their friends. Through it all, Fiddlesticks had been playing her fiddle, her light, upbeat notes penetrating the sounds of the workers.
To ask any of the ponies that watched her play, they would say that Fiddlesticks is always energetic and can make the most dour pony smile. Normally, that would be true. But that night, Fiddlesticks felt different.
Fiddlesticks let out a sigh and ran a hoof around the lip of her glass. After a long show, she liked nothing more than a glass of cold root beer. After her first and last St. Patrick’s Day, Sudsy wouldn’t let her have a drop of alcohol. She had never asked what she had done after that first drink, and she couldn’t remember what had happened for the life of her. Despite that, she was tempted to ask Sudsy for a beer. At least the beer had caused her to forget. She raised her root beer to her lips, tilted it, and barely noticed the sweet drink running down her throat.
“Alright, kid, spill it out,” Sudsy said. His voice was gruff, but Fiddlesticks knew that the bartender was a soft guy at heart. He had even said that she was like the daughter he and his wife had always wanted, rather than the unmotivated son they were stuck with.
“What do ya mean?” Fiddlesticks asked.
“I’ve seen enough sad ponies in this business to know something’s eatin’ ya. So what is it? Some boys givin’ ya trouble?” Sudsy put his rag on the counter and leaned over with a wink.
Fiddlesticks smiled, but kept her eyes downcast. Sudsy putting his rag down was the only sign a pony had to know that he was concerned. Is it really that obvious? Fiddlesticks wondered. She took a breath and looked at her glass. “I’ve just been thinkin’ is all,” she said.
“Yeah? What about?”
Fiddlesticks bit her lip. I’m gonna sound so dumb, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Well, y’know that I went to the Apple family reunion a few days ago.” She stopped to see if Sudsy would interject, but all she got was silence. When it was obvious that he wanted her to continue, Fiddlesticks sighed.
“It was nice seein’ all of the relatives again, and I had a really good time, even though I still ache from makin’ all of those fritters. It’s just that, I couldn’t even begin to name half of the ponies there!” Fiddlesticks rested her head on the counter and played with her glass. She was beginning to sound stupid.
Sudsy frowned. “So what, you’re sad because you don’t know all of your family? Kid, I couldn’t name my own cousin for the life of me. No one remembers everyone they meet.”
Fiddlesticks shook her head. “That’s not it,” she mumbled, a sound that would have been lost if the bar was still open.
“It’s not?”
“No.” Fiddlesticks picked her head up and said, “The ponies that I couldn’t remember were all so…” she waved a hoof in the air as she tried to think of a word, “accomplished. Shoot, a whole family came flyin’ in on an airship of all things! It’s just so much to wrap my head around. There’s a big world out there, and what am I doin’?” She took a long sip of her drink. “I just feel like I have to get away for a bit.”
Fiddlesticks’ eyes widened when she realized what she had said. She had just told the pony that was paying her that she was bored, that she wanted to leave. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Sudsy held a hoof up to silence her. To her surprise, he was smiling.
“I know where you’re comin’ from, kid. Ponyville is such a small town that it could make anyone go crazy. There are days where I just want to shut this dump down for a week and go somewhere nice, y’know? Maybe go to Manehattan for a bit.” Sudsy looked across the bar at a framed baseball jersey.
Fiddlesticks looked around the bar to get rid of her discomfort. She didn’t want to ask if she was in trouble or not, in case it broke whatever reverie Sudsy had immersed himself in. Well, if I’m fired, I wouldn’t have to worry about taking a lot of time off of work to travel, Fiddlesticks thought. She would be a little short on bits, but she was a strong pony. Besides, she had four hooves to walk on, so she wouldn’t have to buy tickets to anywhere.
“Is that the only thing botherin’ ya, kid?” Sudsy asked.
Fiddlesticks jumped and almost spilled her drink. “No, um, yeah, it is,” she said, fighting the impulse of pulling her hat over her eyes. She didn’t know why she was being so nervous.
“Well, where were you plannin’ to go?”
“Go?” Fiddlesticks asked. Before their conversation, she had only kicked the idea around in her head for a few moments. There was no way she could know where to go or what to see. “Uh,” she said, “I didn’t say I’d go anywhere.”
“Yeah, but what if ya were? What’s a place you’ve always wanted ta see?”
Fiddlesticks took a drink. “I’ve always wanted ta go to Canterlot. My cousin lives up there, and she’s the one who sent me my fiddle. Maybe she’d let me stay for a bit.”
Sudsy smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan already.”
Fiddlesticks nodded once before her eyes grew again. “Wait, what about my job?”
“What about it? If anyone needs a vacation, it’s you.”
“But I can’t leave! Who’ll play the music while I’m gone?”
Sudsy shook his head. “You’re a stubborn workaholic. Now I know you’re part of the Apple family.” He looked around the bar before picking up his rag. “I’ll get another musician to stand in for you a bit while ya go soul searchin’. How about you take a month off?”
Fiddlesticks’ worries disappeared and were replaced by a large smile. “Really? A whole month?” Her excitement had almost allowed her to wield the Royal Canterlot voice with more expertise than Princess Luna.
Sudsy blinked and rubbed his ears. “Yeah, a month. You’ve earned it, kid,” he said, unaware that he was shouting.
Fiddlesticks drank the rest of the root beer in one gulp and grabbed her fiddle. She bounced out of the bar, making sure to thank Sudsy every inch of the way. He didn’t look like he could hear a word she said, but she was too excited to ask if he was okay. She wanted to get home as soon as she could.
The bouncing fiddler told herself that she would begin planning after a good night’s rest, but she knew that she wouldn’t sleep a wink. She was finally going to see the world.
