Disclaimer: I don't own My Little Pony; Friendship is Magic!
Title: Try a Mine, Try an Orchard
Summary: Limestone Pie and Big Mac find themselves swapping friendly letters about the supposed wonders of being the only dedicated farmers in the family while simultaneously trying to struggle through change.
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nightmare killer- thank you for the kind review!
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Big Mac was never the type to dream. The few he could recall were scrambled and tiring, and personally he found he didn't like them very much. It was nice to lay his head down after a long day's work and slip into a black cloud for a few hours, only to rise when he heard Granny Smith shuffling about in bed.
Running a large hoof over his mane, he meandered over to put on his yoke before taking a quick look in the mirror he kept above his dresser. Yup. Same ol' Big Mac.
His eyes drifted down to the opened letter he'd left lying there, and his face shifted into a thoughtful frown. News from Marble was always a treat, and he was glad to know she enjoyed being pen pals, but he wasn't quite sure how to handle the attachment he'd gotten from her cantankerous sibling, Limestone.
He rubbed his chin on a soft bit of fur on his fetlock. It was hard to say. He didn't know Limestone very well outside the odd holiday trip. She seemed decent enough; cranky but hardworking, loyal to her family. He recognized the weary resolve of a farmer in the way her jaw ticked at anyone who tried to do a job for her. Would a response soothe or enrage her pride?
"Big Mac!" Granny Smith hollered, and he went, leaving the decision for later.
The old mare's room was just a few steps down the hall, and the floor creaked as he moved. It was homey rather than creepy; he remembered trying to sneak out more than once as a colt, skipping and jumping like a drunken ninja. He chuckled.
Big Mac stopped in front of her new door and lifted a hoof, politely knocking. He knew with a certain level of sadness that she hadn't moved since he called, but better to be a gentlestallion than to just bust in.
"'Mon in, Big Mac. I think I'm feelin' a bit better today."
He entered. Granny Smith's room is old-fashioned, with hoof-knit blankets and hoof-built furniture. The scent of old things hits his nose like a shower of heat. Likewise, Granny Smith is the image of the elderly as she sits up in bed, back hooves tucked under her and blanket draped across her shoulders. The twinkle in her eye made him feel hopeful and disheartened at once.
"Mornin', big fella." She takes the offered hoof and carefully lowers herself to the floor, limbs shaking. "You up to helpin' yer old Granny down the steps?"
"Eeyup."
Big Mac practically hauls her onto his back to get down the stairs; not because she needs him to, but because the stairwell is too narrow for a big stallion and an old mare to walk down side-by-side. From there she pulls away, hobbling into the kitchen with a stiff upper lip. "Pull up a seat. I'm makin' pancakes."
"Eeyup."
Again, Limestone came to mind, if only as a distraction from his grandmother's slowly deteriorating state. When did a pony harvest rocks, anyhow? Do they have bad seasons? Better yet, do they get old? The whole idea of farming for inanimate, non-food related objects baffled him.
"I smell pancakes." Applejack trots into the room as cool as a cucumber, like nothing's bothering her. Like they all can't see the new scar on her back leg. "Anypony seen Apple Bloom?"
"Not me. Mac?"
"Nope."
"Weird'a her to miss breakfast." She mused, slipping into the chair beside him. "I don't think any of her lil' club is awake yet."
"Oh, I'm sure Scootaloo is up and around by now." Granny Smith titters, daintily setting the spatula down to pour more batter and speak a few words. "That mare always jus' seems to be around. S'like she lives in the orchards or somethin'."
"Other club, Granny. The lil' battalion of Cutie Mark searchers."
"Those young'uns? Celestia's mane, I hope not. They cause 'nough trouble as is; I'd hate fer them to be up from the crack'a dawn 'till Princess Luna greets us doin' as much. Ya'll goin' to look fer her, Big Mac?"
Halfway out the door, Big Mac looked back, mildly surprised. He hasn't expected them to notice. "Eeyup."
It's a fine day for farming. It's not too warm to make the orchards feel like an oven, and it's not so cold that it'll hurt the produce. It'd rained the night before but the dirt is solid and cool under his hooves.
Ears pricked, Big Mac catches sounds coming from the barn and follows them. He needs to change the hay later. He puts that on his mental to-do list.
He spots Apple Bloom struggling under the weight of his spare yoke, growling and complaining. She'd kick it off only to pounce on it again, engaged in a one-sided wrestling match she ironically seemed to be losing.
"Apple Bloom?"
She let out a yelp, hooves and teeth relenting with surprise. In a quick turn of events, the yoke snapped back, launching her into a pile of old hay. Big Mac watches the scene as his youngest sister pushed her head out with a disgruntled yell, spitting out hay as she went.
"Uh-hum." He coughed into a hoof.
"Oh. Uh, sorry, Big Mac." She pulled herself free of the pile, a sheepish grin on her face. "Time fer breakfast already?"
"Eeyup."
"I just wanted to try it, y'know?" She flicked her eyes to the yoke around his neck. "You never know if I'll need yoke-carryin' skills to help ponies."
"Eeyup."
"Yeah, I know. That was silly-soundin', even fer me. Honestly, I really just want bulky shoulders like yer's. It'd be a lot of help."
Big Mac nodded and retrieved the champion of barn wrestling, setting it back on its' old hooks while hiding a smile.
"You don't happen to have anything my size, do ya?"
"Hmm..." He paused, thinking. "Eeyup."
"You do?" She perked up, giving a single bounce on her hooves before falling still.
His old yoke from when he was a colt should do. Big Mac gave another, more definitive 'eeyup' before setting a brisk pace to the house. He held the door open for her, then stepped inside himself.
"There ya are, munchkin." Granny Smith greeted as she entered the kitchen. She set a plate of pancakes at the table across from Applejack. The seat next to her was filled with a plate as well. "Git some of these in ya 'fore we get workin'."
"Thank you, Granny!" She replied obediently, taking the first bite with expectant glee. Her eyes snapped open from what they'd hoped was a blissful beginning to the day. "Bit dry, dontcha think?"
"Oh, hush. I'm gettin' old, and I don't got the reflexes I used ta'. Big Mac, where ya goin'?"
"He's getting me a yoke to wear!" Apple Bloom cheered.
"Is he, now? Yer old 'un, Big Mac?"
"Eeyup."
"Didn't know ya still had the thing."
"Eeyup."
He cheerfully plunked up the stairs. The hunk of wood hadn't gotten use in seasons. Sure, the chances it'd stick were slim, but a few days would be a decent send-off. He grabbed it from the closet, then looked at the letter again. It was now or never, or his own response to Marble would be late.
Carefully placing the equipment on his simple blue blanket, he tromped over and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.
Eeyup. I know how it is, definitely. Though I don't really know how rocks farm. I suspect apples might be a bit different in a couple regards. How can you tell a good rock from a bad one?
Can't spend too long writing. Granny's health hasn't been the best lately, and I'm her main stallion. I know it's just aging, but I worry about her. Tell Maud hi, if'n you don't mind.
-Mac.
"Bic Mac! You grabbin' a yoke or takin' a nap up there?"
Big Mac tucked the envelope under his chin and yoke on his arm, smiling just a little. "Eeyup!"
Author's Note: Proud big bro intensifies. Big Mac's a lot of fun to write too, although I think I like Limestone a tiny bit more. They're all a couple years older, I think? I dunno.
-Mandaree1