//------------------------------//
// Walking Through the Halls of Time 
// Story: Walking Through the Halls of Time 
// by JumpingShinyFrogs 
//------------------------------//


-Walking Through the Halls of Time-


The ancient old dragon gazed out over Equestria. Weak grey smoke trailed from his nostrils, rising into the cool evening air. Not too far away from him, a small town, the town of Ponyville was holding a race, to begin the annual loss of leaves by the trees.

From his vantage point in the cave high upon the mountain, the dragon was content to watch them. With his sharp eyes, he could see almost every detail, even being able to make out their cutie marks if he squinted.

It had been a long time since he had last been to the small town. He was soon going to settle into a deep sleep, just like that other dragon who had threatened Ponyville. But before that, he was going to watch the Running of the Leaves. He fondly remembered watching the race in previous years, watching how sometimes the ponies were devious, tricking and cheating one another.

But in the end they got the job done.

As he watched the leaves billow off the trees and fall gently onto the ground, creating a crunchy path for all who wandered the forest trail, bringing about a renaissance in the woodlands, he was reminded of the changes he had seen in his long life.

He had seen nations rise and crumble. He had seen countless terrors attack, only to be repelled by the harmony of the ponies. 

He had seen alliances formed, broken, then formed anew. He had had many friends, all of whom were no longer in the realm of the living. He had seen great changes in the landscape, and in the minds of the ponies as well.

Griffons now intermingled frequently, with no further threats of war looming. Dragons like himself no longer ruthlessly tormented the ponies. Instead they served as guardians, protecting the ponies in exchange for glory and gemstones. The dragon swelled with pride as he thought of that fact, for he had been the one to sign the treaty, as well as the fact that he was leader of the patrol.

The two heavenly princesses still ruled, bringing forth the sun and moon each day and night. They were still just as beloved as ever. Tales of Nightmare Moon now drew sympathy as opposed to fear and hatred. The Crystal Empire had expanded, now owning three major cities in the north, as well as countless small towns and villages. Conditions were cold, but thanks to the magic and warmth of the Crystal Heart, heat was not a problem.

And now the seasons were due to change. As the race ended in a tie between a lithe Pegasus and a sturdy earth pony, the town and magnificent view momentarily blurred and swam before the dragon's deep emerald eyes as he recalled that day so long ago, when a cocky Pegasus and a farmpony used every trick in the book to win, but tied for last. The day he had spent commentating with his dear friend and watched his adoptive mother take fifth place.

Spike curled his massive purple tail around his body, folding his wings and settling down. He rummaged around his hoard, and pulled out a scratched, torn, burned and faded bag. Opening it delicately with his massive claws, he drew out a photo. A photo of himself as a hatchling, with six mares and the two alicorn princesses. A thousand years had passed since the departure of his childhood friends, his crush, and most sadly, his mother.

Once more, great steaming tears flowed freely, splashing onto the ground and forming puddles. Tucking the photo safely away, he drew out another memory-a heart shaped fire ruby, embedded in a gold necklace. As he gazed at it longingly, he was almost certain that the sparkle in the eyes of the pony it once belonged to had been captured in its kaleidoscopic array of edges.

Next, he extracted a yellow feather. Many of the fibres were missing, but it still held special meaning. Spike teased the strands gently and thought of the shy, submissive creature it came from. To this day, animals still flocked to this single feather, attracted by the pure kindness it radiated.

Gently using his tail, he wheeled over a weapon. A cannon, still loaded and ready to go with thousand-year old party supplies. How they had not rotted away baffled the wise old dragon. Almost as much as the antics of the pony who had put them there had confused him so long ago.

Next he removed from the bag a worn old Stetson. It bore many holes, the colour had faded, and wearing it would not be of no use to anypony. But if the pony who wore it so constantly was still around, she'd wear it anyway. That hat had been on her head no matter what, through weddings and battles.

He delved into the bag once more and drew out a neatly folded uniform. The uniform of dreams, of legends. A uniform that had helped a cocky but insecure Pegasus achieve her life's goal. It had moulded to her body shape, and even after a thousand years when the group and pony were no more, its colours were still brilliant, its form still elegant and streamlined.

Lastly, the tears coming in waterfalls now, Spike took into his claws a book. A large book, bound by hoof and preserved with magic. He opened it and began to read. Each letter he read brought memories, bittersweet but plentiful, of the six mares who made his childhood wonderful. Each event described could be remembered clearly, the lessons it taught and the fun the friends had shared. Of course some memories were not good to dredge up. Such as Spike's own rampage through the town, and his mother's failure to subdue the parasprites. But such mistakes happen, and lessons can be learned from them.

The dragon took one last look at his array of memories, each one enchanted by the magic of friendship. He tucked them all away. He coiled himself up, and as he succumbed to his hibernation, he took one last look at Ponyville. Though changes had occurred all across Equestria, this small town would always be the same. Resilient, never disappearing, never changing drastically.

As resilient as the oak tree of innocent days long past, viewed through the eyes of a child, still standing tall and growing as strong as it had a thousand years ago.

Change was good. Change was refreshing. But despite such drastic changes, his memories would always be the same.