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// Edlin the Majestic 
// Story: Equestrian Mythology ~ Tale of the Scions 
// by Keeper of Jericho 
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AN: I tried to get this on Equestria Daily, but it was refused, because, and I quote: "It's not really a story!". Consider my mind blown and me not being a very happy pony. That aside, here is the third tale.


Equestrian Mythology
Tale of the Scions
by Aristallion

~ The tale of Edlin, the Majestic ~

Scion of Creation, Edlin was the fourth of Ilfirinë’s children, he was said to be the fairest of visage amongst her sons. He was born in the form of a bipedal, grand and wolfish creature, with fur that seemed to be made from silver. His eyes were like rubies, and always seemed to stare at something only he could see, a dreaming look befitting for one who existed to create. He had a great, thick mane around his neck and shoulders, and three golden horns crowned his head, one on his snout and a smaller one above each eye. His back stood aflame with the most brilliant and beautiful of fires, their heat said to equal that of the Sun. The Scion’s tail was long and flowing, rivalling even the manes of Luna and Celestia, most prized amongst the Scions for their beauty. It was said that a strand of hair from his tail was unbreakable, the strongest of threads, and that all he held in his five-fingered hands turned into gold. 

He was very kind, though perhaps a bit distant and estranged from the world, since he walked the dreaming plane even when awake, and at times could not separate the two. Very little roused his anger, except when his creations were threatened or disrespected, but when his wrath did surface, it was amongst the most terrible to behold of all Scions. For often the dreamy Scion was underestimated, thought of as simple-minded by those too foolish to understand his way of looking at the world. Thus they were all the more surprised when they faced the Edlin whose wrath they had incurred, for his might was great and terrible. Long did ponykind hold the belief that volcanos were his forges, and that when they erupted, the Majestic was either angered, or ecstatic in his crafting. 

For indeed, he was a craftsman above all else, and his skill was rivalled by none. As the Scion of Creation, it was his charge to craft and create things for the benefit of the world and its Harmony. For this he dreamed even when awake, and in his dreams he received visions and ideas of and for his next work. He was a master smith, and his forges brought forth the greatest of wonders. To this end he wielded a great hammer, used to temper and smith materials into their desired form or shape, and the sound of his hammer at work was like the rumbling of thunder. A great number of workspaces he had, each serving a different end, but the greatest and first was the one in the Scion’s land, where Ilfirinë lived and grew her garden. There stood Edlin’s mightiest forge, for its flames were those of the Sun, a gift from his sister, Celestia the Radiant. And it was in that forge that he crafted his most prized work: the armour for his brother Sírdhem.  But there were other crafts, and many of them were just as stunning in their splendour and majesty. The first regalia of Celestia and Luna came from his hand, as did the Gates of Tartarus or the Hourglass of Sanzéclar, to name but a few. 

One day the Majestic had received a vision in his dreams of a new artefact for him to create, and he left his forge to hunt for the materials he would be needing. Many were easy to find, but one proved to be elusive, and he wandered farther from his homeland than he ever had before. His search took him to lands inhabited by Earth Ponies, and as they saw the great, wolfish Scion pass through their lands, fear gripped their hearts and they fled. On his end, the Majestic paid it little heed, for he had no use for the tiny quadrupeds. His life was dedicated wholly to his craftsmanship and his mother’s dream, and he knew little of the lives of the smaller creatures that inhabited the world from which he took his materials for his works. 

After a long period of time searching for the wood he needed, at last did Edlin come across a tree that seemed promising. It was a rare kind, but his dreams had told him that this was the kind of wood necessary for the completion of his new artefact. Whereupon the Scion took his great hammer and prepared to smite the tree down, so that he may gather what he needed from it. Great was his surprise when one of the little ones rushed forth from the undergrowth and placed itself between the Majestic and his target. Despite being angered by the interruption, Edlin was not a violent being, and he halted his blow and spared the young stallion that had interrupted his scavenging. None too kindly did the Scion demand the mortal to step aside, but the pony in return refused. And though he was shaking on his hooves, he nevertheless asked the Scion’s intentions.

Now Edlin was indeed taken aback, for he was not aware that the Scions now were questioned by those for whom they laboured hard, or had to justify their actions towards then. Regardless, hoping it would rid him of the interruption so that he could go back to work, the fair being explained his need of the tree’s wood and bark for his craft. Great was his surprise when the stallion shook his head, and said in no uncertain terms that it would not be wise. The tree might have looked splendid, but his wood felt weak and useless, so the pony said. Bemused by the audacity of the little mortal, who presumed he could judge raw materials better than Edlin, the Majestic, the greatest craftsman, the Scion decided to humour the pony. He sparsely interacted with anyone, even his fellow Scions, often too caught up in his crafting, but he found the little pony at his clawed feet amusing. 

Reach up and tear off a branch, Edlin did, and with his great claws he attempted to make a simple carving from it. The tree had indeed looked splendid, which is why it had caught his eye in the first place. Surely its wood had to be of quality equal to its splendour? But oh, even as the mighty claws of the Scion delicately tried to shave tiny scrapes of the wood, it broke in his hands into tiny splinters, weak and useless. Troubled, the Scion tore off a greater branch, but it yielded only the same result. Now truly worried, Edlin took up his mighty hammer once again, and gave the tree but the lightest of blows. And see, even so soft a blow made the wood collapse and crumble, for it did not have the strength to support its beauty. And he, Edlin the Majestic, the greatest of all craftsmen, capable of picking out only the finest of materials with his keen eyes, had to admit he had been mistaken.

Now did the blazing red eyes of the Scion settle upon the little, mortal pony at his feet, who uncertainly backed away, frightened by the distant expression in the Scion’s ruby-red orbs. Great was his surprise when the Scion knelt down on one of his grand knees and leaned closer, their faces nearly touching, and the pony thought his end was upon him. But no blow or death came, and Edlin merely demanded to know how the little mortal had seen the tree was no good, when he, a Scion, had not. Still uncertain of the Majestic’s mood, the stallion nevertheless said that he was a craftsman, and had through experience come to know which materials to use and which not, and that the tree the Scion had just destroyed held no value and was avoided by all who crafted with their hooves. 

Now Edlin was both amused and intrigued, for he could not believe the little mortal, who quivered beneath his gaze, shared the same passion as he, the great Scion, did. But a professional curiosity, from one craftsman to another, welled up inside him nonetheless. He rose to his feet and decided to put the pony to the test, and judge his expertise with his own eyes. There the great craftsman now had no materials to use thanks to the interruption from the one with the finite life, he felt it was only just the young stallion made up for it. And thus he asked what kind of wood the pony instead encouraged him to use for his new creation, and why. He could only use the best, he reminded the young one, and his creation required wood that was both light and strong. The pony then tapped his chin with his hoof for a moment, then trotted into the forest to begin his search, and the Scion followed him.

The little pony went from tree to tree, now and then tapping one with his hoof, until he finally came to a halt before a tree that looked as ordinary as a field of grey rocks looked dull. And yet this was the tree the stallion advised the Scion to take. Sceptical, Edlin eyed the plant, noting the lack of anything that caught his attention. Despite that, he reached out with one of his hands again, taking a branch from the tree. He held it in his experienced hands and studied the wood, noting its extraordinary good health and colour that it hid under its plain bark. With his claws he scratched a rough figure out of it, noting the strength and quality. Wishing to take one last test, Edlin took up his hammer once more, and hit the tree with the same kind of blow that had felled the other one. It withstood the Scion’s strike without any difficulties, and the great craftsman was finally convinced. 

He turned towards the stallion once more and praised his good eye, and the pony felt his heart warm when hearing the words, for there was no greater honour for a craftspony than to be praised by the master of all crafters. Now truly and genuinely interested by the little mortal and his capabilities, Edlin demanded to see some of the young crafter’s work. The pony dared not deny the request of a Scion, but he was fearful, for though he had not seen any artefacts made by the Scion, he did not doubt that anything made by such a glorious being could not be anything less than glorious itself. His own work would pale in comparison, the same way a sandcastle, no matter how detailed and well-made, paled when compared to a real castle. But his fear for the Scion’s anger if he did not obey was greater than his fear of the Scion’s judgement of his works, and so he took the Majestic back to his workspace, a cave where he lived isolated, and where his forge, tools and creations were housed.

Once there, the earth pony took his finest work and presented it, with trembling hooves, to the great, wolfish figure. Edlin now held the mortal’s craft in his hands and studied it as if it were one of his own. And he was taken aback and truly surprised by the stallion’s work, for though it might not compare to his own, he recognised great skill when he saw it. The Majestic took in the sight of the small quadruped, and admitted to the young stallion that he had talent and even greater potential. And while the pony glowed in the Scion’s praise, the master craftsman fell silent in thought. The little mortal and his skill interested him, and he wondered if he could pass on some of his own, advanced Scion techniques to a simple, if talented, pony. Ilfirinë’s son loved creating, but none of his brethren or sisters, not even his Hallowed mother, could truly comprehend his passion, or speak of it on an equal level. For that, one had to be a great crafter himself, which the pony had every potential to be. And as he looked at the little one, Edlin wondered how it might be to have a student to whom he could pass on his crafts, whom he could tutor and talk about the wonders of creating with. He offered the idea to the little craftspony, who dared not refuse, even if he had wanted to.

And thus, Silver Hoof the earth pony became the apprentice of Edlin, the Majestic, Scion of Creation. 

Together, master and apprentice worked, crafted and wrought great works in Edlin’s great forge in the Scion’s land, which Silver Hoof was the first mortal to ever set a hoof in. He was a dedicated and attentive student, to Edlin’s delight, and the Majestic took great pleasure in tutoring his apprentice. The fantastic feeling of having someone to teach his ways to, who shared his passion and listened to him while adding intelligent suggestions of his own, filled the Scion’s heart with a warmth hotter than any forge, for in him now burned the fire of friendship. They laboured hard, but found the hard work the greatest of pleasures, and they shared dreams and visions of projects, which they discussed at great length. Being taught the Scions’ way of craftsmanship, Silver Hoof developed the highest of skill, and indeed he was without a doubt the greatest craftspony to have ever walked the earth. In his high days, so it was said, his skills approached even those of his own master.

And yet, even as the formidable pair laboured hard and tirelessly before the great forge, they were watched by eyes whose owner was most displeased. Together, Edlin and Silver Hoof forged marvellous wonders, all in service and honour of Harmony, and the Hallowed mother of all Scions and her great dream. This went not unnoticed by Edlin’s brother, Discord, who saw with ever increasing fury how Harmony blossomed through the efforts of his younger sibling and his apprentice. Ever since madness had taken his mind, and he denounced Ilfirinë’s dream, Edlin and his crafts had been a thorn in his side. Many times had the Bringer of Disorder tried to make his brother fall, subtly and unnoticed, for in those days Discord still feared Ilfirinë’s might. Yet each of his attempts had failed, for Edlin was perhaps the purest of heart of all of Ilfirinë’s sons. He strove for perfection always, both for himself and his creations, and their perfection for him was Harmony, he could not be corrupted.

This had instilled fury of unseen intensity within the maddened Draconequus, who could not bear the sight of his brother and his crafts. Powerless and infuriated, Discord had watched and waited, and he had sworn the downfall of the Majestic. And as he looked upon his brother and his apprentice hard at work, the vilest of grins graced his visage, for at long last did he see a chance to bring forth the end for his fellow Scion’s efforts, and the Harmony that resulted from them. 

And thus, the day came that Edlin left to gather new materials, and Silver Hoof remained behind in their workspace to take care of the forge. Alas, many things the stallion had been taught by his great and kind master, but not how to remain deaf for the whispers of Discord. So when the master of Deceit entered the workspace and spoke, Silver Hoof listened. The deceiver let his gaze wander through the room, and when his eyes fell on the apprentice’s works, he veined to be impressed. Words of praise did the Draconequus whisper, marvelling over and honouring the young craftspony’s creations. And Silver Hoof listened, his chest swelling with pride as he now had received praise of two of Ilfirinë’s children. He was certain no other pony had ever been given such a great honour.

Discord watched as his words, dripping with poison, were easily taken in by the young pony, and inside he laughed and mocked the simple-mindedness of the apprentice. So easily he and his kin were deceived, Discord mused, if one but stroked their ego. And now that he had Silver Hoof’s full attention, the Bringer of Disorder made his next move. He found one of Edlin’s own creations, and marvelled over it, acting as if he were deeply impressed and moved by its beauty. Then he deceived Silver Hoof, and called the artefact the finest creation of the young apprentice. Surprised, the pony denied that he was the maker of such a fine craft, for despite all his skill, he still was humble, and admitted that Edlin still surpassed him. But Discord lied, and pretended that he had been genuinely convinced that the work he held in his hand had been made by ponyhooves, for such a marvellous work surely could only come from one as skilled as Silver Hoof? 

The apprentice was flattered, and he glowed with pride under the Draconequus’ praise, but once more he denied the craft to be his. It was made of liquid light, so he said, and it was so precious and rare a material that he was not allowed to work with it, not even under Edlin’s supervision. Discord veined surprise, and asked of the young craftspony why one with his talent was not allowed to lay a hoof on a material worthy of his skill? And Silver Hoof answered that his great mentor had said to him that he was not yet ready to craft with liquid light, for his skills required refining still. And upon hearing these words, Discord laughed, and began to tell lies, so carefully and masterfully hidden within words of praise and glory. Edlin was simply jealous, so the Bringer of Disorder said. The Majestic could not bear the thought of his student surpassing him, and since he could not take away the craftspony’s talent, he forbade him instead to work with the greatest of materials, so that no work of Silver Hoof the great would ever surpass one of his own. Discord’s words were naught but lies and slander, and at first the stallion doubted them. But the deceiver was nothing if not patient, and his whispered lies were never-ending. 

Loyal Silver Hoof his heart was, but even he was not free of doubts, and it could not be denied that there had been moments when he had questioned or disagreed with his mentor. Discord saw these doubts, and his whispers made them grow, slowly but surely, patiently twisting the apprentice’s heart and soul until the pony was utterly lost within Discord’s maze of lies. The praise of the Draconequus fed his ego, and the lies of the liar fed his doubts. They combined into overconfidence, and thus did the deceived apprentice ignore his mentor’s orders. For indeed, Edlin was merely jealous of his talent, he could see that now, and did not wish for his student to make an artefact of such splendour that it would dethrone the Majestic’s crafts. But he was Silver Hoof, the greatest craftspony of all time, and he should not have to stand for such pettiness. He would prove to his teacher who was the true master.

Alas, blinded by lies did Silver Hoof take the liquid light, most precious of materials, and he readied the great forge, ready to craft. Discord observed, uttering words of encouragement to spur the pony on in his folly, while inwardly the Draconequus laughed in triumph. Never had he been able to bring forth the fall of his brother and the harmony he crafted, but now he would have the last laugh, for he would strike at the Majestic through his mortal apprentice. And he, Discord, would be victorious once more, once he plunged the art of creation into Chaos once again.

Silver Hoof laboured hard and tirelessly, but he was having difficulties using the liquid light, and at times he wondered if Edlin had been right when he had told him that he was not yet ready. He might have ended his stupidity then, and waited for his master to return to confess and beg for his forgiveness, but Discord was still there, and every time the pony’s heart wavered, he spurred him on with more lies and hollow words of praise. And so it was that after several failed attempts, and after using every last bit of the liquid light Edlin had left, Silver Hoof at last completed his work. Fate decreed that when he removed his craft from the forge, Edlin returned and entered the workspace, to be greeted by the sight of his apprentice having disobeyed him. For Discord had left the moment he heard his brother’s approach, and now watched, hidden and in glee, the events unfold.

Once Edlin fully understood what his young friend had tried to do, he flew into rage, his eyes ablaze and the flames that burned on his back roaring high and scorching. Never had Silver Hoof seen a sight so terrifying, and as the Majestic loomed over him, a blazing figure of wrath with a deadly and mighty hammer, he cowered in fear and trembled. In fury did Edlin demand to know what he had done, and what had driven him to do so, to disobey him and ignore his warnings. Had he not said, after all, that the stallion’s skills were not good enough yet to accomplish what he had tried just now? Hearing these words, Silver Hoof in turn rose up in anger, for the lies of Discord still rang within his ears and blinded his eyes, and he could not see or understand the true feelings of his mentor as he spoke. The pony accused the great Scion of jealousy, and that he had taken him under his wing only to control him, to ensure that he would never make something that was greater than any craft of the mighty Edlin. But the Scion was too late, so the pony gloated, for he had already surpassed him with his latest, brand new creation.

Thus did Silver Hoof present the result of his work with the liquid light to his mentor, too blinded by his own pride to see how atrocious the thing was that he now held up high. But Edlin saw it, and the sight of the vile thing made him back away in disgust, for Silver Hoof’s creation lacked Harmony, and was filled with Chaos. Now the Majestic grew worried, for he recognised the mark of Discord, and fear gripped his heart. But his apprentice mistook the Scion’s recoil as unwillingness to admit that he had been surpassed, and he grew furious over the perceived offense. Words of slander did he speak, firing them foolishly at the Scion who stood before him. Edlin underwent the assault quietly, and the fires of his rage died down. Now did the Scion look upon his apprentice with his brilliant red eyes, and with a quiet voice he bade him to leave, for he was from now on banished from Edlin’s forge and presence. Silver Hoof made to protest at first, but when he looked into his mentor’s eyes, his own eyes widened, and he fell silent. Quickly did he then leave, and he dared not say any word, for in the eyes of Edlin had he seen no anger or jealousy, only disappointment and sadness.

Once his apprentice had left, the Scion let out a deep sigh, and then reluctantly picked up the vile work Silver Hoof had made. It was wholly terrible, and nothing good could be salvaged from it, for it was a work of Disharmony. With a heavy heart did Edlin cast it back into the sunfire that burned in his forge, where Silver Hoof’s failed work was destroyed. But even with it gone, Edlin was still not put at ease. He wondered who it had been that had turned his apprentice’s loyal heart to darkness, who it had been that had urged the stallion to create something so vile and full of chaos, and the Majestic feared the answer. He knew but one who would not be revolted by the sight of such a thing, and with a dark expression on his face, Edlin left his forge in search of his Hallowed Mother, to inform her of his troubled thoughts and suspicions.

Yet when he found her, all thoughts of informing her of his suspicions of Discord fled immediately, for Edlin found Ilfirinë shedding bitter tears. For the mother of all Scions had just returned from confronting Edlin’s younger brother, Sírdhem, whose heart had been frozen. When the Majestic asked of his mother what ailed her, she told him of what had befallen his younger sibling, and what that had done to Edlin’s prized creation: the armour of Sírdhem. Upon hearing this, the wolfish Scion left in search of his brother, all thoughts of Discord and his apprentice forgotten for now. He could hardly believe that kind Sírdhem had fallen, or that the most splendid of all his creations had been tainted and twisted. The mere sight of Silver Hoof’s vile project had been enough to hurt him, and the thought of such a thing happening to something of his own hand was nigh unbearable. 

Thus did Edlin depart from the Scions’ land, leaving behind home and forge, and he would never return. For alas, when the Majestic confronted his brother, Sírdhem the Executioner, he was struck down by the blade of his own brother, and thus did he fall. The impact of his mighty figure on the ground shook the world to its very foundations, and all that swam, ran or flew felt the pain in their hearts as the greatest craftsman the world had ever seen passed away. Tragic it was, a loss irreplaceable. Great and mighty he had been, the Majestic, the creator, the craftsman, but bitter and meaningless was his end. Many wonders had his hands crafted, and all of them he had loved, and yet it had been the very same love for his works that had brought forth his demise.

Ilfirinë found his deceased figure, and long did she cradle it in her arms while she wept and cried for the loss of her son. Her lament of sorrow rang through the wastelands for days, unceasingly, and around her and her fallen son did those of her Children who remained gathered, except for Sírdhem, Edlin’s murderer, who had fled in shame and had gone to seek his own end. Around their mother and brother did the Scions stand, and they shed tears as well, their sorrowful cries joining their mother’s heart wrenching lament. Even Discord was there, for he did not wish to arouse suspicion with his absence, and he cried, though it was naught but an act, for behind his mask of sorrow he cheered and celebrated, for this outcome had been greater than he had ever dared to hope.

The Scions then took their fallen brother back to the Scions’ land, and they buried his fair and beautiful figure in Ilfirinë’s garden. There, between the roots of the great tree that was the central point of the garden, was he laid to rest, and there did they build his tomb. It was a simple affair, beautiful in its simplicity, a construction of plain white stone with his name engraved in gold using the Scions’ runes. There Edlin the Majestic slept the sleep of the dead, serenaded by the song of the wind rustling through the leaves of Ilfirinë’s tree. And often did the great mother herself sit there, by her son’s side, in silent sorrow. The pain of losing not one, but two of her sons at once had hurt the first of all Scions, and her light had dimmed somewhat, and never grew as bright again as it had been upon her birth.

And yet the tale of the great craftsman did not end there, as the day came when the departed Scion received a visitor. For from the bushes appeared Silver Hoof, who at last dared to approach the resting place of his mentor. Before, the presence of Ilfirinë had frightened him, and he dared not reveal himself. But that day she was gone, and the apprentice knelt down before the grave and wept. After he had fled from the forge on that fateful day, his senses had quickly returned to him as the lies of Discord faded. And upon realising what he had done, he was filled with great shame and boundless regret. He had just been on his way back to his teacher, having planned to throw himself at Edlin’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, when he had felt a great pain in his heart, and instinctively he had known that his mentor had fallen. Despair had claimed him then, and days had passed while he laid on the ground and wallowed in his shame, tearfully regretting that he would now never have the chance to tell the Scion how sorry he was.

But now he sat before the grave, and he spoke, even though he knew it was too late for his master to hear him. And Silver Hoof apologised, and he shed tears as he told the gravestone how deeply he regretted his actions, how ashamed he was for having done what he had, for letting his pride blind him and ignore all the Scion had tried to teach him. But above all he expressed his regret of not having been able to apologise to the Majestic when he was still alive, and how desperately he wished to atone for his sins and make up for his mistakes. All was quiet in the garden while the young mortal spoke to his deceased tutor, but his words were heard by all that grew there, and all were moved and felt compassion for the pony, for he was sincere and his sorrow and regret were genuine.

And see, even as the stallion fell silent and wept, a beam of light broke through the canopy of the great tree and fell on him. And Silver Hoof was surrounded and bathed in golden light, and his heart was warmed and his sorrows eased, for he knew he had been forgiven.

As if renewed, the craftspony rose to his hooves. He felt a great fire burn in his heart, and he knew what had to be done. Head held high, Silver Hoof bid his master goodbye and left, and he did not return there in this life. The apprentice returned to his kin, and began to work tirelessly and relentlessly, as he once had in Edlin’s great forge. Many great things did he make for his fellow ponies, and around him did he gather apprentices of his own. And to them he passed on all of Edlin’s teachings, and in turn those apprentices passed the Scion’s teachings on to their own apprentices, until Edlin’s craft was passed on to all races intelligent, from Ponies to Buffalos to Gryphons, and they were never forgotten. And thus did Discord stand defeated, for even though his lies and deceit had brought forth the end of his majestic brother, Edlin's spirit lived on through his teachings in the heart and hooves of his apprentice, and those of his students and followers. Even though the Majestic had passed on, and no longer made wonders to serve Harmony, there were others who knew his ways. And through them lived on his legacy, and so it would be until the world was unmade.

As for Silver Hoof, first ever apprentice of a Scion, he grew to be the greatest mortal craftsman and smith the world had ever known. His heart never strayed again, for the roar of the fire in it made him deaf for the lies and whispers of Discord. Long and prosperous did he live, many students and descendants did he have, and old did he become. And when at last he passed away, after a life long and fulfilling, Ilfirinë came and took the pony’s figure to her gardens, and laid him to rest at his mentor’s side. There he slept the sleep of the dead, and there would Edlin and Silver Hoof remain, together even in the life beyond this one, until the time comes when the world is unmade and the departed rise to join in its rebirth.

~~~

AN: This one turned out much longer than I expected. Hope it's enjoyable, though.