I must say that this summer has been exhausting. I am quite glad now that I was sent some help for my duties; otherwise, I am not sure that I would have been able to get it all done with the settlement still expanding. We have gained a sum of new ponies in a migrant wave, which means: What was 37 will now certainly be over 40, if not perhaps 50 depending on the final tally. This may seem like a small number, but considering that I usually must make the decision each day as to what task each pony must do, and then take into account the need to address the complaints and requests of each one as well, 50 becomes a lot more than you might believe.

I have decided to give the small metal-bound booklet that I received back in Ponyville to Dawnstar. I have tasked her with copying the short bios of each of the ponies that arrive here in Songring into it, and to keep it organized alphabetically by first name. I have also requested that she leave an open space at the bottom of each page for me to make my personal notes of the ponies each month. I still would like to record anything I find personally important about the individual myself, but I do not have the time needed to write the full description of each pony within. It may replace the MIRRDs I have been using to record personal interviews.

Both the subterranean boarding rooms and the sick bay are currently in the works. I have also received a list of supplies that the three medical ponies who arrived in the spring have assembled, detailing what is needed to stock their infirmary properly. There are a few things on here that will not be the easiest to acquire: Gypsum powder, plant thread, traction benches, and soap. Needless to say, we have some soap, but it is in use for cleaning and cannot be spared in large quantities as they have requested. I am uncertain as to how soap is made though: It was not one of the things I learned back in my required schooling. I could easily look up a Do It Yourself article on the subject if I had Stratus access, but I am still stranded with only what I kept recorded in my MIRRDs and hard storage. I'm not sure where they expect me to get gypsum powder from (for making into plaster for casts), and plant thread may take some time since we have to grow a whole season's worth of Bladeweed. Lastly, there is the issue of the benches, which will take some mechanical know-how, and while I am certain that I can figure out a design for them, we will need some help with their construction. I will review the work roster and hope to find at least one of the ponies labeled as "Mechanical Engineer".

Going back to the burden of there being over 40 ponies in Songring now, I do have some very good news. As you may have been able to tell, I was still worried about the rapid rate at which the food supplies were dwindling each time I reviewed the stockpiles. I could see large amounts of food disappearing at a time, much more than I would anticipate ponies needing in a single day. I finally decided to have Overcast sit outside the door of the storeroom with a clipboard (since I was certain nobody would notice him) and mark down exactly who was entering, and at what time, as well as an estimate of how much they were taking. I had expected to see Daggersides or Girdle highest on the list, since perhaps they had an eating disorder of some sort, but I was shocked when Overcast brought me back the record.

Julienne Spice, who arrived in the Autumn of 1221, has been smuggling huge amounts of food out of the storeroom since we received our large boost from Sir Bullion's caravan in the winter of last year. I could hardly fathom how in the world a single pony could be consuming this much food, and in a small fit of fury, I stormed from my office that night and headed to the dining hall’s kitchen to have a few words with her. My march halted instantly when I came upon her as she was stoking a fire in an oven for something she must have been baking. I had easily forgotten who Julienne was, sadly, and it was a rather abrupt remembrance when I realized just how massive of a unicorn she was: Strapped with muscle, and a couple of heads taller than me when standing on all four legs. My fury quickly died when I realized how much she dwarfed me in size. Upon hearing the door behind her lazily swing closed after my entrance, she flicked her ears and turned back to me with a giddy smile, brushing sweat off her face with one of the fluffy featherings of beige fur that grew over her hoof.

"Salut, Monsieur Prodder! Comment ça va?"

I could not understand what she had asked me. Her accent, as I can best describe it, is spoken with the fluidity of a Lufaen accent combined with the somewhat lazy drop off of hard consonant sounds like the Aguayian speech patterns. Clearing my throat, I tried to steady my nerves and remind myself that she was being nice, and if I didn't let on with how pissed off I was, perhaps she would stay that way. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Could you keep it to Uniform Basic please? I came to speak with you about something rather important."

Putting my worries aside momentarily, she pulled whatever she had in the oven out with her horn and set it on the counter, all the while humming, before returning back to our conversation. "Eh, yes sir. You need something?"

"More like need to know something. Julienne, I have here record that shows you visiting the storeroom twelve times today, each time removing an obscene amount of food, totaling up to an amount that can be estimated as enough to feed the whole settlement for a week. Can you explain this?"

"I have been cooking, sir. It is what I do. It is my, as you might say, gift."

"... Julienne, you spent a week's supply of food in a single day. Where is it all going? How could you need that much food at once?"

"You must not be practiced in my art, no? I have been quite busy; as busy as you, I must say."

"One of the fundamental rules of the universe as we humans know it is that matter cannot be destroyed nor created. That means that the matter in those food supplies must be going somewhere, Julienne, and I need to know where because you could very well doom us all if this keeps up. Wherever this quantum singularity that is sucking up all of this food is, it needs to be plugged up, and fast. Who ate all of this food today?"

Julienne stared at me for a bit before releasing a loud, guffawing laugh at my expense, shaking her head, and motioning me to come with her. "Nonono, it is not all eaten. These ponies are very busy! They have not the time to wait for myself to cook for them when they are hungry. They must get their food and be on their way! I make the food early, so they can go grab it later." She started leading me back to the stockpiles while I continued to drill out a few more questions.

"So you spent a week's worth of food to make a week's worth of food then?"

"You are silly, you know? I am a professional."

"That doesn't really answer my question. Is that good or bad? I mean, for our supplies. Did a week's worth of raw foods equal up to a week's worth of prepared foods?"

"More."

"That's impossible. You can't make more from less. That's breaking that fundamental rule I just told you."

"A foolish claim, sir, if I may say. With a little care, thought, and flair, what was once inedible can be made into cuisine. I waste nothing in my kitchen."

"Then where is it all going?"

With that, she led me into the storeroom and motioned with a giggle. "Here, of course! Where food goes!"

Nothing but a tense, perturbed silence came from me as I stared over at the food pile to see only a few casks remaining filled with food. I had to bite my tongue for the moment. I wanted to at least glower back at her, but I was walking a thin line here. To be honest, I was still afraid to make a creature of this size angry. Finally, I released a sigh and shook my head, pointing to the casks. "That is far less than should be there. You know that, right? Exactly how is that more than what you've been taking? Is basic math a difficult concept for you?"

With a huff, she grabbed the hair on the back of my head with her teeth and yanked my neck to look over at another pile of casks, muttering the words "There, fool," between her clenched teeth before releasing me.

Disbelieving, I stepped over to one of the barrels and leaned on it, my brow furrowing. "Oh really? Well, this happens to be the seed stockpile. When I crack open this barrel, there are going to be seeds in it. Would you like to bet against that? I wouldn't mind winning something right about now." She merely huffed again and motioned for me to open the barrel. "Fine, we'll take a look at the seeds then. Probably more strawberry seeds or mushroom spawns." Reaching for a crowbar, I wedged it beneath the barrel's lid and pulled it up. "Ta-da, see, I told you it was just going to be bread." Wait a minute, I thought, as I looked down to see that one of the many containers in the seeds stockpile did indeed contain baked goods.

"Voila."

"So tell me," I began, not ready to accept my loss just yet, "Is it all bread?"

"Very much is baked, yes. Why?"

"How old is the bread in this barrel?"

"I made that last week."

A quiet groan of frustration escaped me as I grabbed my face. "Week old bread?! It must not have occurred to you that bread doesn't keep nearly as long as the raw components would have! So what was supposed to last the settlement for a week now won't even stay edible for more than a week!" Before I could continue my frustrated shouts, I felt a piece of bread from the barrel shoved in my mouth, and to my surprise it was soft and fresh. "... You're a liar, there's no way this is a week old. It must have been made today."

"Care, thought, flair... and a little magic perhaps, Monsieur. Do you now believe I am a professional?"

After reviewing the stockpiles thereafter (once I had finished moving the prepared foods to the correct pile, with some help, and instructing Julienne where to place them in the future so we would have a more accurate count), I have deduced that we have approximately 1 year's supply of food remaining for fifty ponies. Quite a bit of stress has been lifted from my shoulders (for a second time) now that I have discovered that our food was not disappearing, merely being misplaced after processing.

Tanks are back in season this year. I saw a herd of them wandering about in the tree lines from my bedroom. Willow has already asked if I was going to go find my girlfriend again. I have also informed him what he can take and where he can shove it. Part of me considers seeing if one of those beasts can be tamed, but I worry about the amount of food one must surely consume to stay healthy. For now, I will simply enjoy the sight of them from afar. Some like to watch birds as their pastime. I happen to watch mammoth reptiles. A difference in tastes or in situations? I've always found reptiles interesting, but never quite worthy of much of my attention; however, since my attention can no longer be spent on brushing up my knowledge of physical and fictional sciences, the waiting list that reptiles were on for my attention became much shorter. I believe by this time next year, I will see if any of the ponies would be willing to wrangle one of them so we can domesticate it. There may be no reason for it, but we shall see.

An interesting trinket that I now have in my possession (actually it is sitting above my chair on a shelf in my office) is a figurine made of nickel and silver alloy. It was brought to my attention, in a rather strange way, that one of the recently arrived ponies happened to be a blacksmith. I first met Coat of Arms when he burst open the door of my office in a frantic mood, stamping his hooves around and acting as though he were hurried or panicked.

"I must use your forge," is all he told me with a dire look in his eyes.

"We don't have a forge," I responded simply. We had no need for a forge. We had found no metal, and I had no intention of starting a metalworking industry at this time. It would simply take up too much resource and horsepower (hah) to maintain right now.

"Then you must make one!"

"I don't even know who you are."

"I am the stallion that will bust your head open if you don't get me a forge this instant!"

"I'm Benjamen Prodder, and I happen to not suffer from mania. Glad we had this meet-and-greet. I'll see about getting someone on that whole forge issue soon... perhaps."

"I require a proper surface to work on."

"Why!? We don't even have a source of ore for you to work with! I understand you feel like your talents are going to waste right now, but you're not the only one. I still have to get Girdle and Bustier a loom and some sewing machines, I need to get Rabbitfoot a something... I don’t remember, and I still have yet to get Teardrop a proper studio..."

"I require a proper surface to work on!"

"Fine! Fine, I will have Blueprint draw up the plans for your forge! Just... let me write up the order and you can take it to her yourself! Just stop yelling at me!"

After I had been mugged for the work order to give to Blueprint, I was left sitting in my office wondering why exactly he was so insistent on using a forge. What was he going to make that was so important? I tried to let it go from my mind and continue with my duties, but he came storming in again the next day. I assured him that the ponies were working on it. He came again the next day, and the next day. On the fourth day of seeing him with that maniacal look in his eyes and fearing that this huge Clydesdale stallion might truly harm me if I did not get him his forge, I went to go visit Stone Sear (Silence's younger sister, who I had tasked with the actual creation of the forge since she was a practiced furnace operator and smelter) to ask why the forge was not completed yet.

She was attending Bustier’s party that day. Understandable. I received yet another visit from the irate bronco the next day, so I again asked her why it was still not completed. Apparently it was her day off this week. Ah, wonderful. It might be done by tomorrow then, I thought to myself. My door was finally broken from the amount of times Coat-of-Arms had bucked it as he once more asked me where his proper work surface was. I asked Stone Sear. She was on break. At that time, I grabbed her by the hair of her tail, wrapped it around my wrist to get a good grip, and dragged her behind me down into the mines to make her do her damn job.

I am not proud of it, but she at least has enough pride in her hair to not struggle too much after I threatened to yank it out if she didn't come along with me. Finally, the forge was constructed, and Coat-of-Arms growled at everyone to go away as he started working on something hastily. I watched for a while, despite his insistence that I leave, due to my curiosity of what was just so important that he needed a forge that soon, but the hours continued to pass, and I had to return to my own duties.

It was a week later when he ambled back into my office once again. He was much more composed this time, though he smelled of sweat and fire, and looked as though he were going to fall asleep standing up. He approached to set a figurine on my desk and then silently walked back towards the door. I simply watched him enter and leave without a word from either of us, and the door lazily swung closed behind him. He is a rather perplexing individual (even more so considering what he had made).

Using a nickel and silver alloy, which I have no idea where he got the ingot for, he had created a large figurine on a tall, flat base. (I might almost describe it as the size of a bust or a statuette more than a figurine.) The metal is shaped into the form of ponies at work: A Clydesdale planting seeds, two pegasi holding items (one with an axe, the other a fishing rod), a unicorn striking the ground with a pickaxe, and three other ponies seated around and looking at a human figure with his hand over his chin in thought as he observes. Impressed into the front side of the base is an image, cut from a dark leather substitute, in the shape of an alder tree, with the word "Songring" made of the same material.

It might be rather easy to tell that those seven ponies and the one human represent the founders of Songring; however, I have trouble understanding the element of the Alder included in the base, and why it was chosen as a symbol to represent the name of Songring. I have tried many times to ask Coat-of-Arms about this piece, but each time he has shrugged me off claiming that he simply wishes it to mean what the beholder wishes it to mean. Artists can be so complicated sometimes, but either way, I am both thankful and in awe of the piece he has given us. I have set it in my office, and I am sure I will pass it onto the next leader of Songring once it is time for me to leave. I believe it will make a fine artifact in remembrance of what we are doing here, and though I do not understand it, I have become somewhat attached to the idea of the Alder being the official symbol of Songring. I will reflect on this image a bit and hopefully come up with some idea of what it means.

The courier arrived this month as well. I received a letter from Twilight, and sent off both of my letters. Since I have already left a copy of my response to the Princess, I will only stow Twilight’s letter and my response for this season.
To keep a promise of mine, I will give a recount of one more personal happening before I wrap up this journal. It was actually last night, as I was putting away my clothes to be washed and preparing myself for bed, that I looked out of my window to see something quite odd. There was a small glimmer down on the beach, and a dark figure sat near it at the water's edge beside a crate. I watched the motionless figure for a while before the intrigue became too great and I redressed to go explore the situation.

As I approached the figure, it shifted, and I immediately saw the faint color of two large golden eyes as they stared at me, waiting. It was discomforting at first, but I pressed onward and examined the flicker of light. It was a candle, which was pushed into what I could make out to be the shape of a cupcake sitting on top of a crate. When I was within a few feet of the creature, I could finally see its equine shape. I recognized the charcoal-colored fur on its face and the azure and pearl striped mane. It was Overcast sitting alone on the beach.

"Hello, Mr. Benjamen Prodder..." He hung his head a bit as he looked over to the dining hall and back to the dormitory once more. The lights in both were off, as everyone else had already gone to bed. "At least two still counts as a party."

"Overcast, what are you doing out here? Everyone's already gone to sleep."

"I guess you didn't come for it either then. My mistake. I'm sorry for assuming, Mr. Benjamen Prodder," he told me, hanging his head once more and I could see the sadness well up in his eyes glimmering in the candlelight. "I was just hoping that maybe somepony would visit me on what was supposed to be my special day." I watched him quietly as he pushed the wooden crate between us. "Nopony showed up for my birthday party, Mr. Benjamen Prodder. I guess this would be the second year in a row now. I was once told it was supposed to be my day, the one day where everypony would have to pay attention to me. I guess that's only true for some ponies."

"I had no idea today was your birthday, Overcast."

"I gave my letter to you about it to Dawnstar. You were busy as usual, and I asked if she'd make sure you got it. I suppose you just didn't think it was worth reading. I don't blame you Mr. Benjamen Prodder."

I sat down on the sand with him at that time, asking him how long ago he had given her that letter. I let him know that I had never received it.

"A couple of weeks ago. I sent it to ask if you'd tell everypony for me that my birthday was today, since they listen to you and all. I'm still glad that at least you showed up, even if it was just to ask what I was doing." With that, he pulled the cupcake closer to himself and looked up to me sadly with his ears pinned back against his head. I had seen him down and depressed rather often, but this was the first time I had truly seen him on the verge of tears as he sniveled and asked me, "Will you at least sing the song for me before my day is over? That's all I'd need, Mr. Benjamen Prodder; then I'll go to bed so you don't have to worry about me."

I tried to speak, but my throat tightened and I found myself sitting across from him wordlessly. The guilt weighed heavily on me then as he whimpered a quiet, "Please..." under his breath. All he wanted was a single day to be heard and to be recognized; just one day where the attention was focused on him for once. We couldn't even give him that. I could understand why it would be so important to him, and my failure to provide it for him choked me up so much that I couldn't even sing him a simple birthday song to make him feel like at least somebody cared.

I had to let my actions speak for me instead. As he leaned in to blow out the candle in the darkness, I snatched it free and hurled it into the ocean behind him, bounding to my feet to do it. I left the cupcake on the crate and motioned for him to go ahead and eat it. After a few deep breaths, I felt my throat release, and I shook my head. "No. I won't sing you that song because we don't have everyone else here to do it with me. Enjoy your cupcake and let's both head to bed for tonight, Overcast. Your birthday party will be tomorrow; I’m sorry that it is going to be a little late this year."

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Benjamen Prodder. There's always next year... and you'll know then, right? I don't want you to go through all of this trouble just for me. I didn't mean to guilt trip you; I just wanted somepony to wish me a happy birthday."

"I'm not doing this because I'm obligated to," I told him as I set my hand on what I could perceive to be his shoulder, "If that was the case, I'd just sing you the song, tell you I was sorry, and be done with it. I'm doing this because I think you're worth it." In the darkness around us, all I could see was the glimmer of his golden eyes again looking back up at me. "Come on now; enjoy your treat to hold you over until your real party. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

After he had finished his birthday treat, and while I walked him back to the dormitory, he told me that I was his best friend, and that even though life here is hard each day, it is worth it to get to meet a great pony like me. This humors me a little considering that I'm not even a pony, but it's also heartwarming to know that he can look past that and see me as an equal. Even though it is praise, I feel humbled by it; maybe I do disconnect myself from them much more than I should. If he can view me as an equal, why shouldn't I be able to do the same? If he can call me his best friend... There's no reason I shouldn't be able to say that about a pony as well.

I spent the rest of my night planning his birthday celebration. I have never been a personal fan of parties, finding them much too crowded, loud, and hectic for me to enjoy. This leads to the problem of me not quite understanding what makes a good party. I am fortunate to have my journal here though, for I have been reviewing a special entry left for me a long time ago by a certain individual. Let me quote her as to what I have been using as a guide:

“We were still putting up the piñata because it kept falling out of the rope. The candles on the cake were just being lit too! If only he had stayed for a little longer he would have seen everything we had set up for him. There was cake and ice cream and candy and colorful candles and balloons and games, and I even got some sweet tunes to play for us because we were going to have a dancing competition!”

We lack quite a few of the essentials she has listed, so I have instead used it to get some general ideas. Overall, I see music, bright colored decorations, sweet foods, and games. The music will be a bit of a challenge considering that I am not very musically inclined, and while I could normally just use a speaker deck connected to my I/O ports back on Terriel, I lack the equipment for it. Julienne will be handling the cake and sweets preparation, and Teardrop and Bustier are my primary choices for a decorating committee. I will have to consider what kind of games one might play here as well.

Wish me luck. Time for me to go be the Master of Ceremonies for my first party here in Equestria. Well, the first one that I will be fully attending. Cheers.

Author's Notes:

I do not speak French. Researched the French phrases used within, but if anyone who does understand the language better than I can see any problems, please let me know.