The Tutelage of Star Swirl

by Moose Mage

Star Swirl the Bearded

Decades passed.

The seasons spun. The world changed. Ponies journeyed through their lives, like so many gears in a vast and inscrutable clock.

Even Whither’s Hollow, with its roots secured so deeply in the earth, was not exempt from the buffeting winds of time. Ponies came and went. Paint faded.

One autumn morning, many years after the night Star Swirl first set off on his adventures, Emory Whither walked from his home into the streets of Whither’s Hollow.

The buildings Emory walked through had not changed so much; some new coats of paint, some new fences, and some newly installed electric doorbells formed the bulk of their transformations. Emory himself, however, had changed a great deal.

He was no longer a strapping stallion who undoubtedly won all the mares. He had thinned. His coat of blue fur had faded to a lighter shade, much like the fur of his dear departed grandmother Agnes, in her last days. His face was deeply lined with unspoken thoughts, worries, and the shadows of countless smiles.

The cold morning air seemed colder than it had once been. These days, Emory needed a jacket, or a scarf, at least, to shield himself from the autumn chill. As he walked through the streets and watched ponies going about their business, he marveled. How quickly they walk, he thought, and how few of them wear coats on these cold mornings. I hope no one catches a chill.

Emory exchanged many a pleasant hello with passersby, who called out to him:

“Good morning, Mayor Emory!”

“Hello, Mayor – I was so happy to speak with you at the town meeting!”

“Drop by the coffee shop sometime, Mayor; have anything you’d like, on me.”

And Emory always had time to spare a word.

Eventually, he arrived at his destination; the post office. He slipped a letter into the mailbox out in front and stopped to catch his breath.

The post office wasn’t far from the edge of town. From the front steps, Emory could see how the road shot out into infinity, leaving the town to its small comings and goings.

Emory had never left. He had meant to, at least once. To see Canterlot, or any city. Or something larger than life. Like a mountain. But there never seemed to be days enough in the year. In any case, he didn’t mind. They needed him, there in town, and Emory was happy to be needed.

A hoof tapped on Emory’s shoulder. “Mayor Emory?”

Emory turned and smiled down at a short green colt, who was only just stepping into adulthood – Lewis. Emory knew his family well.

“Morning, Lewis,” said Emory. “What can I do for you?”

“My dad said I should tell you, sir; he just got the last delivery of electric light bulbs for the street lamps.”

“Aha.” Emory had been expecting that delivery for a few days. Over the past five years or so, the lamps and candles lining the streets and windows of Whither’s Hollow slowly began to give way to the bizarre-looking glass devices called light bulbs. Many of Emory’s friends and advisors had urged him against encouraging such a conversion. Too expensive, they said, and it would be far too difficult to procure a reliable source of electricity. It would be best to stick to gas lamps and other, more reliable light sources.

But Emory was fascinated by the potential of electric lights. It stirred something deep inside him, the science of making light where once there was none. His mind sprang to life. The nearby river could provide enough energy to light the streets at least, and perhaps Emory could eventually convince a glass blower or two to settle in Whither’s Hollow, should demand for light bulbs grow.

Nearly all the gas lamps had been converted. Now, the last delivery had come. Within a month, the streets of Whither’s Hollow would be a modern marvel, the likes of which most citizens might only expect from Canterlot.

“Thank you, Lewis,” said Emory. “Please tell your father that I’ll send a pony to pick them up tomorrow. We’ll finish converting this week.”

“Thank you, Mayor Emory.”

“Of course.”

Lewis bounded off down the street. Emory watched him. As Emory grew older, youth became more and more mysterious. Had Emory truly ever been able to move like that? Had there really ever been a time when he hadn’t needed a jacket on a cool autumn morning? It was harder to imagine with every passing year. Every month. Every day.

Emory shivered and prepared for the walk back home. He cast a glance out at the endless road once more.

He paused. His eyes lingered on the horizon.

Emory recognized the figure in blue instantly. He sometimes spent his few idle hours out at the edge of town, imagining just such a figure, wondering if today would be the day. And the day had come.

Emory smiled. With the agility of a much younger stallion, he set off down the road toward the figure in blue.

Star Swirl had come home.

When Emory walked back into town with Star Swirl at his side, the ponies of Whither’s Hollow took immediate notice. Heads peered out of windows, conversations dropped to excited whispers, and every pony tried for a glance at the old unicorn, as discretely as possible.

Star Swirl’s blue hat and cloak were as rich in color as the day he had left. The bell swaying from the brim of his hat glimmered and rang with quiet dignity. An air of otherworldliness hung about him.

It was Star Swirl himself who had changed most. Though he was younger than Emory, he did not look it. His fur, already gray by nature, was streaked with white. His eyes, once dark and deep and clear, had been clouded by the years. His face was lined severely, as if a sign that his skin had grown weary of holding his bones together. And hanging so low it almost touched the ground, Star Swirl wore a snowy-white beard. It tapered to a soft point, the hair rough in texture, as if a cloud had been sculpted from white wild grass.

Whither’s Hollow had heard all about Star Swirl, of course. Every pony in Equestria with ears to hear with had heard about Star Swirl the Bearded.

The whispers flew: He’s exactly as I pictured him. I heard he never had a family, never a friend in Equestria. Did you know he spent his youth right here, in Whither’s Hollow? Born in thirty-three Blackwood Road, I hear. And so on.

As ponies entertained themselves with gossip and speculation, Star Swirl and Emory walked the streets together.

Star Swirl looked up at the street lamps overhead. “I see you’re investing in electricity,” said Star Swirl. His voice was low and warm and thoughtful. “Good for you. There’s magic enough in electricity for everyone.”

“Yes,” said Emory, “it’s a marvel, isn’t it? Electricity. I heard that a pony tied a key to a kite in the middle of a lightning storm, to further our knowledge of it. Was that you, my friend? I hear you’ve been so busy, after all.”

“No, afraid not,” said Star Swirl. “But who do you think conjured the lightning storm?”

They laughed and walked on.

Emory came to a stop in a street lined with shops. He turned his attention to a sign hanging over a door. Star Swirl followed his gaze.

“What do you think, Star Swirl?” Emory asked.

Star Swirl turned his glazed eyes upward, as if squinting through clouds. “I apologize, my friend, my eyes aren’t what they were. Just a moment…”

Emory looked on as Star Swirl peered up at the sign. Emory reached into his jacket and produced a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

“My eyes are going as well,” said Emory. “I’d never read again, if it weren’t for these. Would you like to try them out?”

Star Swirl looked at the copper glimmer of the spectacles in Emory’s hoof, then back at the sign, giving it one last try on his own.

He gave Emory a half-smile and held out his hoof. “All right, Emory,” he said. “But only because it’s you.”

Emory put the spectacles in Star Swirl’s hoof. Star Swirl placed them on his nose and blinked back up at the sign.

“‘Whither’s… Wonders,’” Star Swirl read. “I don’t remember this shop.”

“It’s still young. Only a few years in standing. You see, I’ve found that old age isn’t entirely a curse. My sons are beginning to take over some managerial duties of the town, preparing themselves for the future. I still do what I can, but even if I felt ten years younger, there comes a time when the torch must pass. So, I’ve been able to devote some of my time to more personal pursuits. Lighting the streets of the town with electrics, for instance. And opening this shop. A place devoted to science. It’s filled with books, experiments, pyrotechnics… It’s a strange thing, Star Swirl. I’ve just about fulfilled my responsibilities to Whither’s Hollow. And now, I have a chance to taste the life left unlived. It makes me very happy.”

Star Swirl carefully removed the spectacles and gazed into space. “Sons,” he said.

“Yes,” said Emory. “Two sons. Both in their twenties now.”

Star Swirl turned back to Emory. “I’ve been gone for a long time,” he said. “I wish I could have come back sooner… shared some of your life…”

“Don’t say that, Star Swirl. You’re here now, that’s reason enough to be glad. After all, we’ve all heard the stories of you and your adventures, even in this tiny little pocket of the world. Just by the power of your stories, you were never far away.”

Star Swirl cleared his throat.

“I heard about Pan,” he said

A short pause. Emory’s eyes glazed.

“Yes,” he muttered, “Pan. How peculiar… It’s been years since I’ve heard that name.”

“I’m sorry. For that, at least, I should have been here.”

“He was happy near the end, and he lived long. That’s what counts. He wouldn’t have wanted us to mourn him forever.”

Star Swirl nodded. He extended a hoof to Emory, bearing gleaming copper wires. “Thank you for the spectacles,” he said.

Emory took the spectacles from Star Swirl’s hoof. “Of course.”

A soft silence passed.

“Well,” said Emory, “let me help you settle back in. Your place is ready for you.”

“My place? You mean, on Blackwood Road?”

“Yes. We always knew you would be back, so we’ve kept it ready. It’s clean, it’s livable, and it hasn’t changed much. Many of your old possessions are still sitting inside, where you left them.”

“Where I left them,” Star Swirl echoed. He cast his eyes around the streets.

“You know, Emory,” he said, “even though I always knew I would come back one day, I never expected the town to feel so familiar. Not after all these years. I was half afraid that I could never come home again.”

“Nonsense. You’re a friend to us all. We’ll always be here to welcome you home.”

Star Swirl adjusted his hat and faced Emory again, smiling, his features tired and unreadable. “Thank you.”

And so, Emory and Star Swirl departed from the shop that had once been called The Blue Rose, silently satisfied, and made their journey across the town. Soon enough they arrived at a dusty old road overgrown by grass and weeds. At the end of that road, tucked out of sight beyond a green hill, sat a cottage.

They parted, and Star Swirl disappeared into thirty-three Blackwood Road. And as the sun fell, a tiny green light danced in the window, a flame still burning after years and years, its wait finally over.

Two weeks went by before Princess Celestia came. The rich, sweet melancholy of autumn had descended in full. The trees of Blackwood Forest were set afire by the season, shimmering in all hues of crimson and gold and bronze.

One day, Princess Celestia’s carriage appeared in the clear blue sky. At a glance, it seemed like a second sun, blazing with white and gold as it soared across the dome of the heavens.

The carriage came gliding down to a halt in Whither’s Hollow. (That was certainly an arrival none of the townsfolk would forget.) By the time all the bowing and all the courteous how-do-you-dos were done, the princess bid her subjects a kind thank-you-and-farewell, and set off alone toward the edge of town.

As the princess walked down Blackwood Road, the road disappearing and a green hill rising before her, she remembered her student of old. His curious dark eyes, his burning intellect, all as clear in her memory as daylight, after so long.

So long, she thought. Ponies change. In truth, I am not certain who I will be speaking with today…

The princess reached the crest of the hill, and laid her eyes upon Star Swirl.

A tiny cottage sat near a forest’s edge, a thin plume of smoke issuing from its single chimney. Star Swirl sat on a tree stump, a little ways away from the front door, a smoking wooden pipe in his hoof. He wore a rich blue cloak, exactly as Princess Celestia recalled, its hem peppered with stars of curious sizes and colors. His face was shadowed by a pointed, widely-brimmed hat, a vibrant blue to match his cloak. A small golden bell hung down from the hat’s brim, somehow at home with the bright autumn fires alight in the treetops.

Star Swirl drank from his pipe and exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting lazily about him as he pondered in oblivion. Then he paused. A moment went by, and his shadowed face turned to the princess on the hill.

Star Swirl adjusted his hat, and the sunlight found his face. Princess Celestia observed him; she knew that face. It was faded and wrinkled, yes, but it was familiar.

She descended to meet him.

As she did, Star Swirl offered her a polite smile. “Princess Celestia,” he said. “What an unexpected honor.”

The Princess, pleased and surprised by Star Swirl’s smile, offered him one of her own. “Star Swirl,” she said. “The honor is mine, to meet one of the great heroes of our age.”

“You are too kind.”

“You look well.”

“And you, my Princess, are as youthful and radiant as ever.”

Star Swirl’s face was set in a position of courteous deference. His tone of voice was pleasant and cordial. But his eyes told the princess the truth. Old and clouded they might have been, but still they flickered carefully, considering, studying.

He drank once more from his pipe, his gaze never faltering from the princess. “May I ask,” said Star Swirl, the smoke billowing from his mouth in small bursts, “what brings you here, Princess?”

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you for some time now, Star Swirl. But you’ve been a difficult unicorn to track down. You certainly haven’t been idle, have you?”

“I try not to be. But now, I’m afraid that I’m finally starting to feel my years. I always meant to return to Whither’s Hollow. I’m glad I had a chance to do so, while I still breathe air. Consider this my brief retirement.”

Princess Celestia smiled and nodded. She let a silence pass.

“Star Swirl,” she said. “We have much to talk about.”

Star Swirl’s polite deference melted into solemnity. “Yes,” he said, “I think we do.”

His horn flickered white, and the smoking pipe extinguished itself. “May I suggest,” said Star Swirl, depositing his pipe into the folds of his cloak, “that we speak somewhere more comfortable? I know a very peaceful spot, where we will not be disturbed.”

“That sounds fine, Star Swirl. Please, lead on.”

Star Swirl stood from the stump and started walking. Princess Celestia followed.

After a short walk over grassy fields and gentle slopes, the two arrived at a hill, rising out of the earth not far from Star Swirl’s cottage. They climbed to the top, and Princess Celestia was surprised by the lovely view. A green ocean all around, a warm autumn forest on one side, and the expanse of Whither’s Hollow on the other. From that high hill, it was easy to see how small the town was, and how wide the world.

With a grunt, Star Swirl sat on the grass, his movements deliberate and somehow brittle. “Here,” he said. “The grass is soft. Do you mind, Princess?”

Princess Celestia looked at Star Swirl, and realized that he was referring to the plainness of the spot. She smiled and shook her head. “Of course not, Star Swirl,” she said. “A princess may sit in the grass.”

Star Swirl examined her, and then returned her smile. “That is reassuring,” he said.

The two of them sat on the hill. Not far off, they could see the tendril of smoke climbing into the sky from the chimney of thirty-three Blackwood Road. To the left of that, the forest, and to the right, the town. The sapphire sky blanketed all.

A bird sang in the distance. Celestia sighed. “Lovely,” she said.

“Yes,” said Star Swirl, “I think so, too. I’ve enjoyed spending time here over the past weeks. I have happy memories on this hill. Some of my oldest happy memories.”

Celestia cleared her throat. “I know it has been a very long time since we’ve seen one another,” she said, “but I am grateful that you will speak with me.”

“Don’t give it another thought, Princess.”

“I hope I’m not intruding.”

Star Swirl gave a bark of laughter. “My schedule is rather light these days,” he said.

Celestia watched as Star Swirl’s eyes wandered between Whither’s Hollow and the horizon.

“There were times,” Star Swirl said, his voice lowering, “when I would sleep in a different place every night, for months at a time. On a mattress, on a bed of moss, under a roof, under the stars… I suppose I’m not conditioned to routine. And yet, sleeping in the same bed every night, knowing I’ll have a bed to sleep in… is surprisingly agreeable.”

Celestia watched the chimney smoke as it vanished into the sky. “You’re a difficult pony to reach,” she said. “Otherwise, I would have come to you earlier. But I don’t think I was ever certain that you would settle down. A pony like you, with such mastery over space and magic… and time…”

Something flickered in Star Swirl’s eyes. “Ah. So you know about that.”

“Yes,” said Celestia. “Years ago, a copy of your Time Travel Spell found its way to Canterlot. We keep it in the Royal Canterlot Library, in the wing named for you. That wing has grown. It is more than a room of spell tomes now; authors and historians who’ve studied your life have made some respectable contributions. Stories of your deeds line many a shelf. And some tales are surprisingly ancient.”

Star Swirl grunted. “Clover,” he said.

“Yes,” said Celestia. “Clover.”

Star Swirl began tugging absentmindedly on his long white beard.

Celestia eyed him carefully. “It could have been no pony but you, Star Swirl," she said. "The histories never use your name, but the likeness is uncanny. The cloak, the hat, the beard, the bell.”

Star Swirl shifted his weight on the grass, and turned to face Celestia directly. “What is this to you?” he said.

“I’d like to know why.”

“Why I went back? Why I helped Clover?”

Celestia could all but see the shadows of memories swimming in Star Swirl’s mind, fantastical old creatures awakened behind the stony temple of the old Unicorn’s weathered face.

“Things did not go as I expected,” said Star Swirl. “Not at first. I’ve been to the past, yes, and to the future, once or twice. When I went back to the beginning of Equestria, I wanted only to observe. But, purely by chance, I ran into Clover. The histories exaggerate my influence on her, I assure you. We spoke only two or three times. I gave her what counsel she asked for. I answered her questions as best I could.”

“But it was you.”

“Of course it was.”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but Star Swirl raised a hoof. “I know, I know,” he said. “You are concerned, and you’re right to be. What right have I, to turn back the days? What right have I, to change the world as I see fit? I’ll assuage your fears, Princess – I’ve never changed a thing. Clover the Clever always had an old, bearded mentor. I remember reading about him in my youth. That did not change with my excursions to the past. The river ran on, heedless of the stones I tossed into the current. You may rest easy, knowing that the happenings of the past are as fixed and balanced as the stars. The future, however – the future is where the world is soft as clay.”

Celestia no longer heard the bird singing in the distance. It had flown off, perhaps to give the two of them their last chance to speak alone.

“I did have some fears,” said Celestia. “But I should have known that you would never put the land in danger.”

“Not intentionally, at any rate,” said Star Swirl. He laughed. “I hope I’ve put you at ease.”

“Yes. You have.”

Celestia watched Star Swirl return his gaze to the far-off view, wondering how she could bring up the true reason for her visit.

“How fares Princess Luna?” asked Star Swirl. “I expected to see her again one day, much more so than you. How is she?”

Celestia was quiet. She cast her eyes down into the grass.

“I do not know,” she said.

“I ask because I’ve heard no news of her. She still rules with you in Canterlot, I assume?”

“Star Swirl, Princess Luna has not ruled with me in Canterlot since the day I dismissed you from the palace.”

Star Swirl frowned. Celestia continued to stare at the grass.

“Where is she?” Star Swirl asked.

Celestia was unused to speaking of her sister. She could not meet Star Swirl’s eye; she stood and slowly paced about the slope of the hill.

“I do not know,” she said. “She is out there, somewhere. Every night I see proof of that, when the moon rises. But my sister has been gone from me for years and years.”

Celestia stopped. Memories of her own began to stir. A phantom smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“I remember when we were sisters,” she said. “Truly sisters. When we were young – very young – we lived in a castle, just the two of us. Out deep in the forest, away from the craze of Equestrian life. We had books there, and games, and secret tunnels and chambers. She didn’t hide from me then – we hid together, in that castle, at times when the world was too big and uncertain.”

Celestia willed the hot blur out of her eyes and continued. “Eventually we came to Canterlot. That would make us more accessible to the common folk, we thought. Maybe we could earn some respect from the ponies of the world. Perhaps even love. But as you know, only one of us truly did. And now, our old castle is abandoned. Dusty, dark… perhaps a ruin by now. But if my sister is anywhere… she is there. I don’t think there’s another place in Equestria where she would hide.”

Celestia felt Star Swirl’s eyes on the back of her head. “Have you gone in search of her?” asked Star Swirl.

Celestia turned back to him. “No,” she said, “and I don’t intend to. I am her sister, not her jailer, not her hunter. She made it clear to me… that she would return to Canterlot of her own will, or not at all.”

With a heavy sigh, Star Swirl pushed himself into a standing position. It was an act of obvious effort. His face, so weary just moments before, had turned hard and grim.

“Princess Celestia,” he said, “when I left the palace, all those years ago, after… your outburst… I moved on. If memory serves me correctly – which it often does – Princess Luna was always wiser than she was rash. If you go to her, perhaps you will find that she has moved on as well.”

“Then where is she?”

For one horrifying moment, Celestia was certain that she would begin crying, and then, she would not be able to stop. But she mastered herself, blinking furiously.

“Luna and I have shared long lives together,” she said, “and some scars run too deep. Deeper than you know. If she has moved on, why hasn’t she come back? Where is my sister? No, Star Swirl. I cannot go to her. I fear that the rift between us can only grow.”

“Don’t go to her because of how distanced you’ve become,” said Star Swirl. “Go to her because of how close you once were. Oh, Princess, if I had any family to speak of… I would not let them slip away from me without my stir. You resign yourself to a fate you can still escape. You once loved her. In fact, I believe you still do. If you go to her, you may well find that somewhere deep inside, she still loves you, too. We cannot change the past, true, and often, we cannot forget it. But we can learn.”

Suddenly very tired, Celestia sat back down on the grass. She laughed a quiet, sad laugh. “So I should go to her, and say what? We both know that I was wrong, in so many ways. Does it need to be said?”

Star Swirl sat beside her. “Yes,” he said, “it does. If only because something must be said. I can’t promise that you’ll win your sister back quickly – great wounds take time to heal. But, Princess… wounds can heal.”

Celestia laughed again, and looked at Star Swirl. “I never expected that I’d be taking this sort of counsel from you, Star Swirl. You’ve grown quite wise.”

“Well, that’s what they say of me.”

Celestia smiled. “The beard helps.”

“Yes, well, you can’t fault me for that. As one grows older, the importance of the occasional trim slowly diminishes.”

Celestia laughed, Star Swirl smiled. In the silence that followed, the princess pondered.

“You think I should go after her,” she said.

“Yes. It is long, long overdue.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Go tomorrow. No more waiting. You are decades late in this matter already.”

“And what if she spurns me?”

“Then you will try again the next day.”

Celestia sighed. “I notice you’ve abandoned the formal courtesies of addressing a princess.”

Star Swirl cocked an unkempt white eyebrow. “Princess, what do you want, my flattery or my counsel?”

Celestia turned her face to the sky, the sun a soothing warmth on her skin. “Your counsel,” she said, “gives me much to think about.”

A few clouds had crept into the otherwise clear sky, a string of cotton on the horizon.

“Will you do it, then?” asked Star Swirl.

“… Perhaps I will.”

Star Swirl nodded.

Before the two of them could lapse into silence, Celestia said, “I’m curious, Star Swirl. Why offer me your advice? We did not exactly part on agreeable terms.”

“Hmm.” A slight breeze blew by. The bell on Star Swirl’s hat shimmered with light and sound. “Maybe I’m just old and sentimental,” he said. “Or maybe I dislike turning away those who ask for my help. But likelier still is this: Princess Luna was my friend and teacher. If you two became sisters once more, perhaps she might become whole again.”

Star Swirl removed his hat from his head, and placed it on the grass. His mane was as course and white as his beard. “Princess,” he said, “I suspect that you have something else on your mind.”

Celestia stole herself. “Yes, I do.”

Star Swirl’s eyes were unfaltering. Celestia met them and began.

“Star Swirl,” she said. “You are one of the most powerful, intelligent unicorns in Equestria. You are the greatest student my sister and I have ever had, or are likely to ever have again. You have a passion for the common folk that is rare. But you grow old. We both know that you will not keep to this world for much longer.

“When I offered you Ascension all those years ago, I was hasty and impulsive. I should have given you time. Now you’ve had it. And it is clear to me that there is no pony in this land better suited for leadership than you. I make you an offer, once more. You care about helping others. Help me, by keeping order over the stars in the sky. Help me to rule Equestria, with benevolence, patience, justice, and wisdom. At my side. At Princess Luna’s, as well, if fortune favors us…

“You would have more time in this world. The alicorns live long, their bodies stand strong against sickness and deterioration. There is so much good left for you to do, Star Swirl. I don’t come to you asking you to bend your knee to me, or sit on a throne shorter than my own. I come to you asking for help.”

Star Swirl stared at Celestia. His snowy white hair flickered in the gentle passing wind. Celestia willed her heart beat steady and slow.

Star Swirl picked up his hat and placed it back on his head. His clouded eyes still had life enough in them to gleam peculiarly in the shade of his hat’s wide rim.

“All ponies,” he said, “must die. It is natural. Heroes die, villains die. Gardeners and adventurers die. Musicians die. And I will die. So will you, Princess Celestia. One day. Even alicorns cannot dwell on this plane forever. And that is good. That is the way the world is balanced. I do not seek to control anything. Not with a horn, not with a crown. I seek only balance.

“Princess Celestia, you have proven to the world that you can keep the peace of this land, alone. And with Princess Luna at your side again… well. Between the two of you, everything is possible. It’s a strengthening thought, isn’t it?

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer, Princess. I choose not to live forever, and I choose not to wear a crown, just as I chose ages ago in the throne room of your palace. I understand your need, and your concerns for the realm. But it is not my path to lord over anything. Not even the stars. No, the stars do well enough in their heavens without my interference. And so will the ponies of Equestria, once I’m gone.”

Celestia looked out at the sky again. The sun was beginning its descent. Evening was coming. She breathed deeply, and looked once more at Star Swirl.

“I see,” she said. “You’ve made your choice, then?”

“I made my choice a long, long time ago.”

“You were young.”

“I was never young.”

Celestia turned away. “No,” she said. “I suppose you weren’t.”

Then Celestia stood. “Well, then,” she said. “I suppose that’s the end of it.”

“Yes,” said Star Swirl. “That’s the end of it.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer. Then Celestia turned away and began her descent from the hill.

Halfway down the slope, she turned back. “I shall go to my sister tomorrow,” she said. “I don’t know what will happen… But I will go to her.”

“It’s best that you do,” said Star Swirl. “Even if there’s only the slimmest of chances that the two of you can join together again – even if she turns you away, denounces you – as long as there’s a chance…then it must be done.”

Celestia’s eyes lingered on the wizened old pony sitting on the hill.

“Even if you don’t join me in Canterlot,” Celestia said, “I can promise you that you’ll be remembered. All ponies must die, but not all stories. And yours is one that will live. Have you heard the tales they tell? Star Swirl the Bearded, they call you.”

“That is not all they call me. Star Swirl the Friendless. Star Swirl the Frozen-Hearted.”

“I am sorry for that.”

“Don’t be.” Star Swirl took his pipe back from out his cloak, and with a flicker of his horn it began to smoke again. “It’s my fault, really, for travelling alone so much. Though it certainly didn’t help when a princess proclaimed that I’d failed to master the magic of Friendship. In any case, if history will not abide me – if the scribes will not use their ink to preserve the unicorn I truly was – I do not mind. I did some good work.”

Celestia’s thoughts of leaving vanished.

“I never said this to you,” she said, “but I must, now that I have the chance. I’m sorry, Star Swirl. I was reckless and proud, and you deserved a better princess than I to oversee your lessons. I’d like to clear the air. Parting from you now… I must know. Might we part as friends? Please, Star Swirl. I must know if there’s any chance for a friendship between us.”

Star Swirl’s pipe hung languidly from the corner of his mouth. His great blue cloak rippled in the wind.

“While you’ve been hearing tales of me,” he said, “I’ve been hearing tales of you, Princess. They say that you are a kind, intelligent ruler. A graceful and just princess, who always puts her subjects before herself. I did not know if that was true; that did not sound like the Princess Celestia I met in my youth. But after speaking with you today… I believe it. I thank you for your apology.”

That was enough for Celestia. “You’re welcome, Star Swirl,” she said.

Celestia turned to leave.

She’d only gone a few steps before she heard Star Swirl’s voice call out behind her:

“You feel that I still haven’t finished.”

Celestia faced Star Swirl again.

“You feel that I’m still missing something,” Star Swirl said. “That there are elements of friendship that I still haven’t mastered, even now.”

Celestia was silent.

“Well,” said Star Swirl. “I understand. Then here’s the truth of it: I cannot accept your friendship. As you know, some scars run too deep.”

Star Swirl rose to his feet.

“I cannot accept your friendship, Princess Celestia,” he said. “But I forgive you.”

Star Swirl smiled. And underneath the wrinkles and the whiskers, Celestia thought, for just a moment, she saw Star Swirl as he truly was. Celestia smiled a small smile in return.

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye, Star Swirl.”

And so Princess Celestia left the green hill on the outskirts of Whither’s Hollow. She boarded her golden carriage and was off into the sky. As she passed over Whither’s Hollow, she looked below at the houses and streets displayed below her. Not far over the town line, she could just make out a figure in blue, sitting among the green hills, growing smaller with every instant, fading to nothing.

I’ll go to my sister tomorrow, she thought, the cold winds whistling around her. I want my sister back.

The gleaming carriage disappeared over the horizon. The sun began to set. And Princess Celestia was gone.

By the time Star Swirl returned to thirty-three Blackwood Road, the night had started to rise. Starlight began to dust the firmament, and the autumn fires of the treetops began to die as the sun fell.

Star Swirl opened the door of his cottage, with a hoof worn and cracked and well-traveled. The door opened with a rusty but not altogether unwelcoming creak. Some embers still burned brightly in the fireplace, painting the room with a warm glow.

Star Swirl slowly closed the door behind him, exhausted. He put his hat on the floor. He sat down at his desk. The Dragon’s Tongue burnt green. When he’d first come back to Whither’s Hollow, it had seemed only natural to Star Swirl that this magical little fire had never burnt out. That’s what the princess had once told him, after all. That it would never go out.

That evening, as he sat there in the thickness of dusk, Star Swirl felt his age as he had never felt it before. The weight of every passing minute hung heavy on his back. Every passing second.

There was a drawer in the desk. Star Swirl had not opened it since his return. But if what Emory had said was true – if the cottage had been largely untouched during his absence – then he knew what was inside.

Was there ever anyone I told? Star Swirl thought, dusty memories long pushed aside floating over him. Surely, I must have let slip my secret spell, at least to one pony…

Ah, yes. He had. To Lily.

On that day on the riverside. That day, that day had been made of clear sky and crystal water and color and light. Lily, he had said, I am working on a spell. I’ve been laboring on it for years now. It’s something to solve my Problem.

The spell had gone untouched for the great span of Star Swirl’s life, ever since he left Whither’s Hollow and marched into the far-off world. By that time, he had learned that his “Problem” was no problem at all.

Curious, Star Swirl brushed aside his beard and opened the drawer. From out of its depths, he lifted a book. A black-bound book, with a smattering of silver stars shining on the cover; the shape and spirit of the Celestial Tether.

Star Swirl placed the book on the desk before him and began leafing through the brittle, yellowed pages. As he read, his blurred, half-lidded eyes carefully picking out the markings, the distance of years began to fade. Warm memory filled him as he poured over pages and pages of equations, re-written incantations and astrological diagrams.

He remembered what he had written. He remembered writing it. He remembered the late nights, sitting alone in his cottage, when he had let thoughts of his friends fill him with wonder and joy and fascination. How complete they had seemed to Star Swirl. Emory, who found a path for his life that was quite unlike what his cutie mark might have suggested. Pan, the musician, given the mark of a flute, whose passion and talent for music was exceeded only by his passion and hunger for acceptance. And Lily, the gardener and the adventurer, who bore a blue rose. An exotic, unearthly flower. A flower that meant a love of beauty, and a love of the world.

Such an ache Star Swirl had felt for them. A love and a jealousy and an admiration that had clutched his heart in a warm and unwavering embrace. I wanted to learn how they did it, he thought. I wanted them to teach me.

Star Swirl reached the final pages, and read the culmination of his studies.

From one to another,
Another to one,
A Mark of one’s Destiny,
Singled out alone,
Fulfilled.

Star Swirl rose from his chair, weary of reading. Across the room, a full-length mirror stood, propped against the wall. Star Swirl walked to it.

He let his cloak fall to the floor in a ripple of blue. Star Swirl seldom saw himself in a mirror. He gazed at his white-streaked fur, fur that had once been rich and gray. He gazed at his horn, a horn as cracked and worn as his hooves. He gazed at his aged face.

And Star Swirl gazed at his empty flank.

Yes, thought Star Swirl, that’s what I wanted them to teach me. How to find a Purpose. How to live a life fulfilled. How they had gotten to be content. But what they taught me in the end was something else. Something else I desperately needed to learn.

What mattered a cutie mark, really? A cutie mark mattered not at all. This, Star Swirl knew. This, Star Swirl had learned.

I lived my life in search of my Purpose. And now that I stand at the brink of the end, I realize that I have failed, and that I do not care. Perhaps I was wise anyhow.

The embers of the fire grew dimmer and dimmer. Star Swirl thought of his bed. A dark, safe place. A soft place to rest.

Suddenly, Star Swirl felt an inexplicable urge to cast off his skin; to shed his old, heavy coat, and feel the relief of a rotted weight lifted. But he could not. He could only sleep.

As he walked to the bedroom, Star Swirl stopped by his desk. He stared at the quivering green flame perched atop the Dragon’s Tongue, the strange purple candle in the cold black holder. The light flickered, mindless and eternal.

Star Swirl hunched over his desk. He drew a deep breath, and then, with a puff of air, he blew out the droplet of fire. A black thread of smoke rose up, and dissolved into the air. The Dragon’s Tongue was dead.

As Star Swirl made the journey to his bed, each step seemed to be slower than the last. His limbs were gradually deserting him.

Finally Star Swirl took his last steps and clambered into bed – and oh, the relief of the pillow, the cozy warmth of the sheets as he drew them close to his skin. How easy it was, to close his eyes. How nice it was, to earn a night’s sleep.

In the comfortable darkness, Star Swirl dreamed his dreams with a smile.

In his dream, Star Swirl stood on a familiar plane. The ground was mist. The sky was a host of stars, all sizes and colors.

Not far away, Star Swirl recognized the shapes of ponies, silhouetted against the brilliance of the stars. The shape of a father. The shape of a mother. The shape of a friend. Shapes and shapes. All of them, waiting.

One pony strode forward, gliding serenely in the mist. The figure stepped into the light, and it was Lily. She smiled at him. Star Swirl saw her face and went to her.

A wind blew in Star Swirl’s mind, and his long white whiskers fell away like cobwebs. Suddenly he was young again. His limbs were strong. His fur was rich and gray. His eyes were as dark and clear as the ocean deep.

By the time he reached Lily, he, too, was smiling.

Lily beamed. Her pink fur cast a hypnotizing glow in the starlight. “Why are you smiling, Star Swirl?” she asked.

Eyes glistening, Star Swirl said, “Because I am happy. The day is ended, and I’ve had an adventure. I am happy.”

Star Swirl took Lily's hoof in his. He peered into her eyes. How he had missed those eyes.

The shapes of ponies in the distance began to fade. Lily turned and saw that they were leaving.

A twinkle in her eye, she turned back to Star Swirl. “Follow me,” she said. “Follow me.” She turned and started after the others, under the canopy of the stars.

Star Swirl followed.

Outside, the windows of thirty-three Blackwood Road were emptier than they’d ever been. No fires. No candles.

High in the sky, the clouds broke open, and the moon appeared, a beacon in the inky night. Full and radiant and silver-white.

With a brightness and a splendor never before seen, the moon shone down in mourning. The light passed over everything; the countryside, the treetops, the towns and villages… and the lonely thirty-three Blackwood Road… washing the world with tears of night light.

The air was still. The land was at peace. And Star Swirl the Bearded went to his rest.

Comments

[Avid_Reader]

A Masterpiece...

[Phazon]

This certainly answered a number of questions I still had about the story. Star Swirl appearing in the Hearth's Warming tale despite apparently being alive here (I can't believe it took so long for me to wonder about that even after asking you about the link between the story and the Celestial Tether), Star Swirl's feelings about the magic of friendship, and that Question he was trying to answer, or that Purpose rather. I'm actually surprised by what it turned out to be though. And I'm still not sure how it turned into an Ascension spell based off the Elements of Harmony. That one will remain a question for the ages...

It was also nice to see Star Swirl and Celestia reconcile after all that time. Though I can't imagine that Celestia's long overdue meeting with Luna will turn out well. Not well at all. If anything, I expect it to come a bit sooner than Celestia planned.

So next chapter's the epilogue, right?

[Moose Mage]

4736074
Hi again, Phazon - I'm happy to hear that your questions are clearing up! Yeah, I tend to agree that Celestia's impending reunion with Luna probably won't be very pretty. (Let's just say I watched a certain section of the season three premiere very carefully before writing this chapter.) Yup, the next installment is the epilogue, which I'll try to have up within the next week or so. And then I'll finally be able to switch this story's status to "Complete." Thanks again for sticking around, my friend!
(Edit: Sorry, when I say season three, I mean season four. Why can't you people read my mind?!)

[kyubbiman]

Great Story

[Phazon]

4737312
Yeah, I was going to say about that season 'three' thing. But since I'm not going to make a comment just to point out a typo on another comment, there is one thing that troubles me about this last chapter. While I can accept Star Swirl not accompanying Celestia on her journey to see Luna, it seems odd to me that he didn't try to meet his friend and former mentor one last time. They did have a very close relationship after all. Granted, Luna could have been keeping in touch with him over the years via dreamscape, but judging from the context of Star Swirl's conversation with Celestia (mostly what Celestia said to him about Luna), that doesn't appear to be the case, and it indicates that after decades or neither one reaching out to the other, Star Swirl didn't try to say goodbye to her.

[Moose Mage]

4755681
Aha - that's a fair point. After all, I'd argue that after Star Swirl, Luna is really the second protagonist of this story, and deserves a proper send-off (that might be a hint as to the content of the upcoming epilogue).
Warning, to anyone else reading: Here be minor spoilers.
The goodbye scene I wrote between Luna and Star Swirl in the "Power and Purpose" chapter was intended to be (and, I hope, functions as) their final goodbye. It ends their teacher/student relationship, it puts things right between them, and it sends both characters on their separate paths, to continue their own personal journeys. That goodbye is, for all intents and purposes, the end of their story together. So another goodbye between them, I think, would've been a tiny bit redundant.
That in mind, I don't think that the pony Star Swirl becomes by the "Star Swirl the Bearded" chapter is quite nostalgic or sentimental enough to go seeking out tender goodbyes, especially not from someone with whom he's already achieved closure. Sure, he goes back to Whither's Hollow, but not totally for the sake of sentimentality; it's the one place he knows he can be safe, now that his life is winding down, and after all, he'd promised to return one day.
But on the whole, it made sense to me that Princess Celestia should be the one to have the heart-to-heart with Star Swirl; to reconcile, as you put it. Especially if you compare Luna's goodbye in "Power and Purpose" with Celestia's goodbye. Yeah... Star Swirl and Celestia could stand a bit of a stronger resolution than that.
Honestly, if Luna is the second protagonist of this story, I feel that Celestia really does function as the antagonist, as much as (if not more than) King Klav-Mar and the Jackals. And if that's the case, then having Celestia and Star Swirl come to some sort of understanding is just as important as sending Star Swirl into the Jackal lair to face his demons.
I hope I don't seem too defensive here, or argumentative - I'm always grateful for your consistently thought-provoking comments. One of my storytelling philosophies is a slight variation of, "The customer is always right," and it goes like this: "You cannot argue with the audience." No matter how much I defend the intent of my work, if something in the text didn't work for you while you read it, then, well, it didn't work, and nothing I do or say can change that, and I only have myself to blame. So, we do what we can do; we look at what we've done, we stroke our chins thoughtfully, and we resolve to do better next time.
Great to hear from you again, Phazon - dissecting my work once it's done is proving to be an enjoyable tool of reflection and (hopefully) growth for me. Until next time, my friend.

[Cerulean Voice]

Oh my god I'm crying what is this I don't even wow my feels such pain many tears holy crap incredible finish.

This is one of the true greats. I will never forget having read it. Finally it has gone to rest, and like Star Swirl, it has earned it.

[Moose Mage]

4769949
My friend, I think that you are exactly the sort of reader that every author wishes to have. Having your comments to look forward to whenever I put up a new chapter has meant a great deal to me, and I'll always be in your debt for that. Thanks, buddy.
And a huge congratulations on your newly expanded family, Adren! I'm so sorry that I never said so sooner. To you and yours, I wish all the luck and happiness in the world.

[Truth_Seeker]

Heh, I remember when this story first came out. I remember giving it a pass after chapter two, not giving it the time it needed to flourish.

I'm glad I took the time tonight. This has got to be one of the best Starswirl stories on the site. I really want to hear more about his adventures!

By the same token though, what is here is complete and it is an absolute pleasure to read. Thank you

Story Highlights: (things I particularly enjoyed)
- Flawed Celestia / Luna
- Charming town with some great OCs
- Starswirl's treatment as a student of the princesses and their relationship. Brilliantly done in more ways than I can organize, special mention to promoting people without discussion or a solid plan and miscommunications in general. I can identify -_-

Story frustrations: things that piqued the cynic in me. They aren't criticisms or flaws in the story per se, just things that I noticed and wished were more convenient to my personal views
- Starswirl taking out the Jackals: Man, I understand that Starswirl was uniquely motivated and that Celestia/Luna were squeamish of genocide, but he made a Very Big Problem look easy.
- Jackals: Starswirl's triumph really shines a bad light on how the jackal situation was handled by all sides. My emotional investment in starswirl outweighed my understanding that the number of pony deaths might not justify extermination. Might. Personally I think Celestia's strategy of protection was worthless, too dependent on Luna (or worse, Luna wasn't a factor).

... but that's part of why the story works, and I really enjoyed it!