The Tutelage of Star Swirl

by Moose Mage


The Celestial Tether

Over the following week, Star Swirl was surprised to find himself settling into a routine.
Every morning, he woke up to find Pan sitting on the stump outside thirty-three Blackwood Road, waiting to begin the day. Pan had stopped playing his flute in the early hours, out of courtesy to the sleeping Star Swirl. Star Swirl was a little amused and a little touched when Pan started waiting for him in the mornings; Pan might not have been the most confident creature in the world, but Star Swirl was hard pressed to think of a nicer pony. They walked into town together, talking of magic, music, and of course, the bicentennial.
It didn’t take long for Star Swirl to realize the gravity of the Whither’s Hollow Bicentennial Celebration. Plans had been in the works for months, overseen by Emory and his grandmother the Mayor, Agnes Whither. But now that the celebration was hardly a week away, every pony seemed to be in a perpetual state of anxious preparation. The local bakeries could barely keep up with the town’s ever-increasing demand for pastries, pies, and cakes, Pan was writing new music to perform for the festivities, the hour of the celebration was fast approaching – the whole town was captivated by some mysterious, bristling energy. Even Star Swirl wasn’t exempt from a bit of excitement.
Star Swirl had been unofficially recruited by Emory to help with odd jobs for the upcoming bicentennial. Delivering messages, delivering goods, performing the odd spell or two to get a broken cart out of a ditch, things of that nature. Star Swirl had been a little uncomfortable with the idea at first, but as the days went by, he realized how practical this new casual employment was for his studies. He wasn’t just helping the community prepare; he was getting to know the ponies of Whither’s Hollow, face to face, in a way he never could have if his existence had consisted of studying in thirty-three Blackwood Road with the occasional outing with Emory or Pan. Now Star Swirl knew the bakers, the tailors, the local acrobats and actors – even though only a week had passed, Star Swirl felt more and more at home with each passing hour.
He only wished that he could see more of Lily.
Now that the celebration was just around the corner, Lily was finally getting a bump in business at The Blue Rose. Star Swirl had made a few flower deliveries for her, they’d shared a few words, but always hurriedly, in a busy blur. Star Swirl often thought about that pony, the Lily he had met in the flower shop on his first day in Whither’s Hollow. He wondered if he would ever see that pony again.
This was the thought tugging on Star Swirl’s mind exactly a week after his arrival. The morning sky was clear, the sun blazing, and he made his way to the open green fields just south of the town line – the site of the celebration. Emory had asked Star Swirl the day before for assistance with some sort of an entertainment project; he’d never told Star Swirl exactly what they’d be doing. But of course, Star Swirl agreed. The two of them, while not yet friends exactly, had certainly become allies.
In the middle of the field, Emory sat hunched over an open wooden crate, fiddling with the contents, engrossed in his work. Behind him was a pile of identical crates, perhaps a little more than a dozen. Star Swirl’s cloak trailed behind him in the grass as he approached Emory. Emory seemed hardly to notice, until the sound of the swishing cloak caught his attention.
Emory looked up with a smile. “There you are, Star Swirl,” he said. “Grab a box.”
“Hello, Emory," said Star Swirl, horn glowing under the brim of his hat. “So, what is it today? I didn’t know we were setting up the tents out here just yet. Didn't you say some pony else had that under control?”
“These aren’t tents. Take a look.”
Star Swirl magically set down a crate in front of him. The boards on the top removed themselves, and Star Swirl peered inside.
Surrounded by a protective packing of wood shavings was an assortment of jars and vials. Star Swirl lifted some into the air, examining them as they hovered. Various chemicals in various bottles and beakers, white and black powders and colored liquids, not unlike the sorts of ingredients Star Swirl might use for magical potions.
“I didn’t know you were interested in magical alchemy, Emory,” said Star Swirl, tapping the side of a beaker with his hoof.
“I’m not,” said Emory, digging through his own crate. “Here, let me show you.”
From the depths of his crate, Emory pulled up a strange, bulbous red shape. It took a moment for Star Swirl to recognize it, but then he understood; he was looking at a sculpture of a dragon’s head, teeth bared in a cartoonish snarl, sculpted eyes forever glaring at nothing.
Emory turned the dragon’s head over in his hooves, to show Star Swirl that it was hollow, with an opening in the neck. He smiled. “What you’re looking at, Star Swirl, is a purely scientific entertainment. A pyrotechnic, I call it. Look, I finished a smaller one…”
Emory reached back into the crate and pulled out a smaller, blue object – the head of a bird, mounted on a stick, a short black string dangling from its neck. Emory stuck the contraption into the ground, the beak pointing up to the heavens. He turned to Star Swirl.
“Care to light this fuse for me, Star Swirl?” he said.
With flicker of light from Star Swirl's horn and a snap, the short string was dancing with sparks. The sparks made their way up the fuse and vanished into the bird’s neck – and with a sudden whistling noise, the bird shot up into the air. Star Swirl took a step back and adjusted his hat, neck straining, watching the bird’s flight, straight up, up, up – and then the bird burst open with a crack, and a blue fire crackled on the air, just barely visible in the light of day. The fire seemed to bloom in the air, a dazzlingly intricate pattern of light, and dissolved into nothing as quickly as it had appeared.
Even though Star Swirl only ever had a limited patience for these sorts of non-magical spectacles, he was nonetheless taken with the display. This was an achievement, no denying it.
Emory clapped his hooves together and laughed. “Just imagine them in the dark! Oh, I can’t wait for the celebration. Here, let me show you how to put these together…”
Emory began going through the vials and beakers in Star Swirl’s open crate, showing him the correct mixtures to use, how to insert them into the sculpture, how to secure the fuse. Star Swirl looked thoughtfully at the materials in the crate, retrieved a green lizard’s head from the bottom, and got to work.
“This mixture,” said Star Swirl, opening a flask of black powder, “is it yours? I mean, did you come up with this yourself?”
Emory smiled as he attached a fuse to a yellow blowfish. “Oh yes. I love it. That feeling you get, when you create something new. I’m sure you must get that all the time, you know, with your magic.”
“Yes. But… Well, I don’t know, I suppose I never thought of you as a scientific type.”
“That’s all right. No one really does… I don’t suppose you’ve seen my cutie mark?”
Star Swirl had noticed it. It was an unusual mark, something Star Swirl was having the smallest bit of trouble identifying. A collection of multicolored spheres, some bunched together in a mass, other smaller spheres orbiting that mass. “Is your cutie mark what I think it is?” Star Swirl asked.
“A molecule. I don’t know if you study the makeup of matter in magic, but when I was young, I was fascinated by it all. I got to reading all about science, chemicals, molecules – the capacity for matter to change, for something mundane to become beautiful – and the next thing I knew, I had my cutie mark. I call it a secret passion.”
Star Swirl set down the ingredients he was mixing. “It’s a shame that you don’t get to pursue it more often…”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… You keep yourself awfully busy. I hadn’t realized it, but… You’re living a very different life than what your cutie mark would suggest.”
Emory paused in his work. He looked up into Star Swirl’s cool, puzzling eyes.
“That’s true,” said Emory. “My special talent might not be the management of town funds, or the organization of bicentennial celebrations… but, that’s what I have to do. It’s just the way things are.”
“But, surely, you aren’t the only pony capable of running this town? I don’t mean to impose – ”
“No, of course not,” said Emory. “I know what you mean. But try to understand, Star Swirl. You know my family. The ponies of Whither’s Hollow expect me to lead them. My family expects it of me. And truthfully, I expect it of myself.”
“… Does it ever bother you?”
Something changed in Emory’s face. Suddenly, behind all that energy and optimism, Star Swirl had a profound feeling that Emory was just a little bit tired.
“I can’t let it bother me,” said Emory. “I’ve thought… for a long time about this. About what I’m going to do with my life. I could stay here in this town, with all my friends, my family, my neighbors, and stay busy with paperwork and town affairs until the day I die. Or I could do what my cutie mark tells me. No matter what path I take… a life will be left unlived.
“But I think I’m going to stay here, Star Swirl. With Whither’s Hollow. Oh, I’ll still get to dabble in science now and then. Like these pyrotechnics. But I need to lead this town. It’s what I have to do. There are many things I want to do, sure… But I have a responsibility. And responsibility is doing what you know is right, whether you want to or not.”
They looked at each other for a moment longer. Then Emory laughed, a choked sound, and dove back into his work. “I’m sorry,” he said, beginning work on an orange squirrel. “I don’t mean to preach, I must be driving you mad…”
Star Swirl watched Emory work. Before, Star Swirl had seen Emory as a pony with a world open to him. But now, it seemed as if Emory’s world wasn't very open after all. And Star Swirl felt pain for Emory, this tired, trapped pony.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Star Swirl. “Any time you need to talk, I’ll be there.”
Emory looked up.
Star Swirl smiled. “What are friends for?”
Emory seemed to catch Star Swirl’s smile. “Come on, Star,” he laughed. “That lizard of yours won’t finish itself.”
And so they worked together, as the sun blazed a trail across the sky, as ponies from town began to come out into the field and pitch tents for the celebration. And from that day on, something was different between Star Swirl and Emory.
Soon every crate was emptied, every colorful sculpted head was stacked in a nearby tent, and evening had come. Emory sighed, and the two began the walk back to town. “Another day’s work, finished. Thanks again for the help, Star Swirl.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Oh, and while I’m thinking of it – Pan and I are going out to the hills tonight, just to hang out. I don’t usually have the time for things like this, but tonight, I’m finally caught up on bicentennial plans. For now. Care to join us?”
“Oh – all right, that sounds fine.”
Something flipped in Star Swirl’s stomach, and a thought occurred to him. “Say, Emory,” he said, “you told me the other day that you’re heading over to The Blue Rose, to check up on some flower arrangements?”
“Yes, right when I get to town.”
“Right. Well, if it’s – that is, if you’d be comfortable… um… Anyway. I don’t suppose you could maybe ask Lily if she’d like to come along?”
Emory gave Star Swirl a sideways glance. “Lily? Why’s that?”
“Oh, no reason,” said Star Swirl, eyes on the ground as he walked. “I just thought she might like to come…”
There was silence for a moment, and they reached the edge of town. Star Swirl looked up at Emory, looking for some sign of consent – and was astonished to find that Emory was directing a very knowing smile in his direction.
“I’d be happy to ask her, Star Swirl. See you tonight.”
And with that, he set off in the direction of The Blue Rose. Star Swirl had no words. Oh, by the stars, he thought, what did that look mean?
Now with a score of new things to worry about, and a fresh bout of skepticism angled toward his newfound extroversion, Star Swirl galloped back to thirty-three Blackwood Road, his mind saturated with irrational fear, confusion, and a quiet dash of excitement.


The sky was clear, the sun was set, and the half-moon dimly cloaked the land in a silvery gray. Star Swirl swept across the softly rolling hills to the west of Whither’s Hollow, not far from his cottage. He felt strangely at home under the stars, those lights sprawling out across the heavens, silently keeping order in the night.
Soon he saw them, Pan and Emory, chatting away on the top of the highest hill, gazing up into space. They heard him coming, and Emory waved, barely visible, silhouetted by the stars. “There he is! Welcome, Star Swirl, to the merry-making.”
Pan waved as well, as Star Swirl made his way up the hill. “Hi, Star Swirl,” he said.
“Hi there,” said Star Swirl, looking around the hill, searching for Lily. “So, what’s the plan?”
Emory grinned and nodded to a large, lumpy brown bag sitting in the grass next to Pan. “I brought along some… entertainments for tonight. I don’t think anyone will mind if half a dozen pyrotechnics go missing, especially not out of a couple hundred. We’ll start in a bit, we’re just waiting for – ”
A voice flew up the hillside, cutting Emory off:
“Pan! Get out your flute, I’ve got an urgent job for you.”
And there was Lily, running up the hill toward them with that same bag on her back that Star Swirl had seen when the two first met. Pan was surprised, but quickly fumbled for his flute, lying beside him. Lily reached the top of the hill and flung her bag down onto the grass.
She looked up and saw Star Swirl. Their eyes met, and she laughed. “Ha! Star Swirl! I told you I wasn’t finished with you, didn’t I? Yes, I did. Come on, Pan, give us a tune, quick!”
Lily started rummaged around in her bag, and Pan began to play. It was the same melody that Star Swirl had heard on his first morning in town. Soft and soothing, the sound of sunlight floating on the air –
“Oh, come on, Pan!” cried Lily. Pan stopped. “Stop it with all that ‘serious music.’ Give us something up-beat for once – what we need is a little life!"
Pan blinked. Star Swirl watched him carefully. Oh, I hope he’s all right, he thought. He’s such a gentle pony, and Lily might just be a bit too on-the-nose for
But then, Lily’s infectious smile seemed to spread to Pan. He took a breath and started playing a tune Star Swirl had never heard him play before. Quick, light, playful; the music of fun. Star Swirl was alarmed and vaguely pleased to find his hoof involuntarily tapping.
Lily nodded. “That’s more like it.” From her bag she extracted four flower pots and laid them on the ground. In the dark, it was hard for Star Swirl to make them out, but it looked as if each pot had a tiny plant sprouting from it; stems with large bulbs on the ends, like lollipops lodged in the dirt.
The music played on, and within a few moments, each bulb began to softly glow. The light kindled, as if dancing to Pan’s flute, and very soon each bulb had the blazing brilliance of a torch. Lily passed them around.
“Thanks, Pan,” she said. “That will do for now. These are torch-buds. I figured I’d bring them out for tonight. I wasn’t sure how long they’d be able to survive out here; I keep them in the back of the shop, and I’ve always got records playing for them. But they should be fine for a while now. They seem to like live music much more than the recorded stuff.”
Lily gave Star Swirl his torch-bud. He took it in his hoof gently, nearly afraid the bulb would break, like a delicate glass ornament. He looked up into Lily’s laughing eyes and grinned at her from under the brim of his hat.
“As they say,” he said, “better to light a candle than curse the darkness. It’s certainly lucky we have you here.”
Lily beamed. “Yes,” she said, only half serious. “It is.” She turned to Emory. “So, Captain and Lord of us all, what happens next?”
And what followed was a night Star Swirl would never forget. They arranged the torch-buds in a circle, and from the top of that hill Emory launched his pyrotechnics into the sky. Blues and reds and greens and whites. They watched in wonder as the sparks of pure color drifted back down to the earth and vanished before they touched the ground. They all had turns lighting the devices – Lily was particularly keen to get her hooves on the sky-blue dolphin. Each of them had gotten their fair share of wonder from those bottled fires before the night was out.
When the pyrotechnics were gone, they laid down on the grass, in the shape of an X, their heads in a circle. And in the dimming yellow glow of the Torch-Buds, they looked up into the stars.
Emory pointed up. “That one there,” he said. “The yellow one, in that cluster. Of all the stars in the sky, that one moves the least. I’ve studied the charts and everything. Some ponies call it the Root.”
“Odd name, for a yellow star,” said Lily. “I’d expect something… oh, I don’t know, nicer-sounding. But that pink one next to it – gorgeous! Pan, any favorites?”
Pan shrugged in the grass. “Well, I do like the big white one, just over to the side.”
“Hmm,” said Lily. “Not bad. And you, Star Swirl? You’ve been quiet. Any favorites?”
Star Swirl hesitated. He knew these stars very well.
“In a way,” he said, “they’re all my favorites.”
“That’s cheating!” Lily cried.
“Actually… Take a closer look.” Now it was Star Swirl who was pointing up. “That cluster, with the yellow and the pink and all that. Really look at it. What is it?”
They all studied in silence. Emory spoke up first. “Is this a trick question? That’s Astral Patch Six, isn’t it?”
“Many ponies call it that. It has another name, though. It’s not just a patch. Look at their formation. What do you see?”
Lily gasped – she’d gotten it. “No way,” she said. “It’s a swirl. A star swirl. Oh sweet Celestia, tell me that this doesn’t have anything to do with – ”
“ – My name, yes. My parents named me for that collection of stars.”
“Oh, this is too good!” said Lily, clapping her hooves together. “Go on, Star Swirl, tell us more.”
Star Swirl paused for a moment. This wasn’t something he just went around telling other ponies. In fact, he thought, save for Luna… I’ve never told any pony how I got my name.
He drew in a deep breath, and took the plunge. “Have any of you heard of the Celestial Tether?”
Silence in the night.
Pan cleared his throat. “I think I might know it,” he said. “An old myth, I’m not sure…”
“That’s right,” said Star Swirl. “Very old. It’s a story that started well before Celestia, before Luna. Before Discord. According to legends, alicorns didn’t arrive in the world until well after the other pony races – the earth ponies, the unicorns, the pegasi. And without the magical strength of the alicorns, back in the Old Times – long before the unicorns got together and pooled their magic to shift the celestial bodies – there couldn’t be any night or day; at least not as we know night and day now. No one to move the sun or the moon; they moved like leaves in the wind, tossing this way and that, leaving the land in sweltering heat or freezing night for weeks at a time. The ponies of the world searched for a solution, but couldn’t manage to come up with a thing.
"One day, a small group of ponies came forward. They told the world that they would take it upon themselves to bring order to the sky. The world scoffed, of course – how could a hodge-podge mix of unicorns, earth ponies and pegasi succeed where countless great minds had failed? But these ponies were resolute. They climbed the tallest mountains in the world, braving the snow, the hopelessness, the dragons. And eventually, against all odds, they reached the highest point of the highest mountain in all of creation, and from its peak, they climbed up into the sky. And there, in the sky, they linked themselves together, hoof in hoof, a of chain of ponies spanning across the heavens. On one end, they held fast the sun. On the other, the moon. Back down on the earth, the unicorns used their magic to move the newly tamed celestial bodies through space. And with this Celestial Tether, the sun and the moon swung across the sky in perfect balance for thousands of years. Over time, the bodies of those brave ponies melted into stars, and the Tether remained unbroken for millennia, the Celestial Ponies keeping silent vigil over all of everything.
“And then… a long time later… Celestia and Luna appeared. After the Reign of Discord, the two new princesses took it upon themselves to bring order to the astral bodies. Celestia conquered the sun, and Luna, the moon. But when they took control, the sun and moon were ripped free from the Celestial Tether. Now, all that chain of stars can do is hang limply in the sky, like a coil of rope that’s gone unused for an awfully long while.
“Celestia and Luna can’t rule the skies forever. And according to legends, when their rule is over – when the sun and moon are left drifting freely in the sky again – the Celestial Ponies will return to their duties. They will do what the Princesses ultimately cannot – they will bring absolute balance forever.”
The word lingered in the air, “forever,” like a dying wind. Pan, Emory, and Lily had no words. They simply kept looking up into that swirl of stars. And so did Star Swirl. Telling that story had been… exhilarating. He was at once relieved and terrified.
And finally, when the story had sunken in, Lily spoke. “It fits you, Star Swirl.”
“Why is that?” Star Swirl asked.
“I don’t know.”
The soft glow of the Torch-Buds faded around them, until finally they went out, and all that was left was the half-moon, the stars, and the siblings of the stars, the lights of the Celestial Tether.
Lily smiled in the dark. “It just does.”


Star Swirl returned to thirty-three Blackwood Road late in the night. He lit his lamps, he removed his cloak, and he sat down at his desk. On the desk he placed his cloak, a sewing needle, and half a dozen spools of colored thread.
And he set himself to work.
He magically guided the needle through the hem of his cloak, slowly at first, then with mounting confidence, mounting passion. He laid them all out, the stars of the Celestial Tether, in a straight line, pinpoints of brilliant color and light. The yellow, the blue, the pink, white, orange, purple, and every minor glimmer of starlight in between.
Star Swirl worked well into the small hours of the morning. And finally, after a long, happy night, Star Swirl gently set the needle back down onto his desk. He magically lifted his cloak in front of him, and admired his work – the Celestial Tether, forged anew on the hem of his cloak.
From that night on, Star Swirl knew that he wore more than just a cloak. He wore the night sky.