The Tutelage of Star Swirl

by Moose Mage

Thirty-Three Blackwood Road

Star Swirl looked out the carriage window. The towns and farms and forests of Equestria drifted by below him. The silver carriage flew smoothly through the sky, the three pegasi drawing it with the skill and discipline of any Royal Guard. They really were quite high up, hurtling through wisps of cloud, not far from the glass ceiling of the heavens.

Star Swirl’s departure from Canterlot Palace had been a quiet affair. The carriage was waiting for Star Swirl in the courtyard, and both Princess Celestia and Luna had been there to see him off. Princess Celestia had given a few final words of instruction.

“When you arrive at Whither’s Hollow,” she said, “you will be shown to your cottage by a town representative. Tell him that arrangements have been made for you to stay at thirty-three Blackwood Road. And this, Star Swirl, is for you.” And the princess produced a strange candle, a deep, rich purple thing in a black holder. “I will expect you to report back to me on your progress. When you learn something of value on the nature of Friendship, write me a letter, and burn it with this. We call it a Dragon’s Tongue. When your letter burns, I shall receive it. Keep it burning always, as I will be writing to you as well – it will never go out.”

Star Swirl tucked the candle into the folds of his cloak. “Thank you, Princess.”

“And with that,” said Princess Celestia, “I will say goodbye. Have a pleasant journey. I shall be eagerly awaiting your reports. Good luck, my student.”

“Thank you, Princess. I will try my best.”

Princess Celestia turned to reenter the palace, her guards in tow. But Luna stayed where she was. Celestia paused, noticing, and turned back to her sister. The two shared a look. It seemed to Star Swirl that Princess Celestia was about to say something to Luna. But she did not. She seemed to think better of it. And so Princess Celestia vanished into the palace with the guards, leaving only Star Swirl, the pegasi, and Princess Luna in the courtyard.

Luna smiled and walked to Star Swirl. She put a hoof on his shoulder. “How are you?”

Star Swirl’s face of stone softened. “I’m well, I suppose.”

“I know how you feel about all this, Star Swirl,” said Luna. “I understand. But the truth is, the magic of Friendship is worth your time. Please do as Princess Celestia asks. I swear that it is for the best.”

Star Swirl sighed. “I will. I promise I will. But I wonder if… Do you know if there are any good book shops in Whither’s Hollow?”

Luna laughed. “Come here, my student.”

The two embraced.

They made their final farewells, and soon Star Swirl was riding high on the wind in that silver carriage, staring out the window at the passing countryside.

He reached into the folds of his cloak and brought out the Dragon’s Tongue. It was an odd little thing, the holder a cool, mysterious black metal, the candle itself an odd, rougher texture than traditional wax. Star Swirl toyed with the wick. He had thought at first glance that the wick was black, but now as he examined it, he saw that it was a very dark green.

He looked out the window once more. The towns were getting sparser as the trip wore on, and now they mostly flew over green fields and patches of forest. Star Swirl looked forward at the land to come – and received his first look at Whither’s Hollow.

Star Swirl knew right away that this must be the place. It was an isolated little town, bordered by a river on the south, south-eastern side, and the edge of a forest on the north-west. Star Swirl opened his window and stuck his head out into the buffeting winds.

“Excuse me,” he called out over the roar. “Is that over there Whither’s Hollow?”

The lead Pegasus called back. “Yes, sir. We’ll be arriving in less than ten minutes on Main Street.”

Star Swirl frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was make a grand entrance in a flying silver carriage. It would attract too much attention. Star Swirl had no intention at all of letting anyone in Whither’s Hollow know that he was a student of Princess Celestia. He never put himself on a pedestal – whenever ponies took interest in him for nothing but his magical skills, it turned out to be a bothersome distraction.

“Do you think you could set me down outside the town border?” Star Swirl called.

“Sir, we were told by Princess Celestia to – ”

“It won’t be a problem, I’m in constant communication with the princess. If anyone has to answer for slightly deviating from Princess Celestia’s instructions, it will be me.”

“… Very well, sir. We’ll begin our descent now.”

“Thank you.”

Star Swirl retreated back into the stillness of the cabin and shut the window. The carriage began making its gradual descent back down to Equestria.

The carriage landed about a half mile from the town, which suited Star Swirl just fine. The plain dirt road has surrounded on both sides by green, rolling hills, uninterrupted except for the glimmer of a river in the east, and the black mound of shadows and square structures which was Whither’s Hollow in the north. The pegasi had offered to help him with his things, but Star Swirl was more than capable of magically carrying three pieces of luggage filled with clothes and books. He thanked them and set out for the town line.

As the silver carriage flew off behind him into the darkening blue sky, Star Swirl started walking down the long dirt road. He began to assess his objective – to make friends.

It was true, Star Swirl had never had any close friends before. But he was not a fool. He was able to put on a pleasant and agreeable mask when the occasion called for it, he could make acceptable small talk, and not a single pony in Equestria hated him. Maybe that’s a sort of talent, thought Star Swirl, to be hated by no one. Surely I must be doing something correctly. Yes, I don’t think I should have much trouble with my assignment. A few polite conversations, a few letters to Princess Celestia naming my acquaintances and describing our common interests… and I will be finished.

But one thing did bother Star Swirl. He had the intellectual power to analyze the mechanics and motions of casual friendship, that much was certain. But whenever he had observed other ponies enjoying themselves with friends – genuinely having fun, letting down the mask and revealing a smile underneath – there was a certain something Star Swirl could not quite pinpoint. There was an openness – there was a certain foolish way of acting – which Star Swirl did not understand.

But I will be fine, he told himself. I’ve done this before. Not for extended periods, but still… I will be fine.

The sky above Star Swirl grew darker as the town before him grew larger. Twilight had come, and he had arrived.

He passed a wooden sign that read, “Welcome to Whither’s Hollow; Population: 1,214.” And as if Star Swirl’s presence had been magically announced as he passed the sign, he heard the thumping of hooves on the road, coming up to meet him. The light was dimming, but it was still light enough for Star Swirl to perfectly make out the pony coming toward him. It was a blue earth pony, a stallion of about his own age, the sort of tall, strapping pony that undoubtedly won all the mares.

Suddenly something squeezed in Star Swirl’s heart. This is it, he thought. My first impression, my first chance to make a friend. I can do this.

Star Swirl set his floating luggage down behind him as the blue stallion galloped up to meet him, a welcoming grin on his face. “Hi there!” said the stallion. “You must be Star Swirl. Welcome to Whither’s Hollow!”

Now’s my chance, thought Star Swirl. Now is the moment that I make my mark. This is when I demonstrate my wit and insight – but not in an overbearing way. I will smile, I will look this stallion in the eye, and I will say –

“Hello.”

Perfect.

The blue stallion saw the luggage resting on the ground. “Would you like some help carrying anything?” he asked.

A storm raged in Star Swirl’s mind for the next two seconds. Here was a delicate choice. On the one hoof, if he said no and kept on carrying the luggage himself, he might risk offending the stallion – but isn’t it a sign of consideration to not let others bear your burdens? And on the other hoof, if Star Swirl let this stallion take some luggage, it would at least placate him – yet he would be forcing a potential friend to carry his things for him, which seemed a rude thing to do. Not truly knowing what the best course of action would be, Star Swirl went with gut instinct.

“Sure, that would be great, thank you.”

The blue stallion took a wheeled case and lifted it upright. “Here we are,” he muttered, and started rolling the trunk toward town. Star Swirl magically lifted the other two and followed.

Star Swirl observed the blue pony for a moment as they walked. How interesting, he thought. This stallion doesn’t seem at all bothered, carrying some of my luggage. As a matter of fact, he seems largely cheerful. As if he enjoys it – as if he’s happy to help. I’ll take a note down later.

A thought struck Star Swirl – he had forgot to ask the stallion’s name. Foolish, downright foolish, he thought. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

The stallion laughed as the two started walking past the first buildings – old wooden places, but places that looked clean, colorful and strong. “That may be the first time I’ve been called ‘sir,’” the stallion said. “Emory is my name.”

“It’s good to meet you, Emory.”

“You too, Star Swirl. You can think of me as an extension of the Mayor’s office. She’s my grandmother, after all. I’ve lived in Whither’s Hollow all my life, you see, and my family’s been here generations. No one knows this place better than we do. So I’d be happy to help you settle in.”

“Thank you – I was told that arrangements had been made for me on Blackwood Road?”

“Blackwood? Huh, I didn’t know anyplace was available there. What number?”

“Thirty-three.”

There was a falter in Emory’s steps, and in his smile. He suddenly looked the tiniest bit confused.

Star Swirl stared at his guide. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong,” said Emory. “It’s just… Well… I’ll explain when we get there.”

They were now passing through the heart of the town. Star Swirl read some of the signs on the shops. Madame Bethany’s Herbal Medicines. General Goods and Necessities. The Blue Rose. Most of the lights were out, but from each shop sign, Star Swirl had a very firm impression of something antique. Although the sign for The Blue Rose was obviously the newest, it was clear that Whither’s Hollow was a town that had happily grown roots in the earth.

“So,” said Emory, “what brings you to our little town, Star Swirl?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I am… I am a student.”

“What do you study?”

“Well, a little of this, a little of that… but mostly magic.”

“Oho! You’ll be very popular around here. We’re mostly an earth pony town, with a handful of pegasi. I probably couldn’t name you a dozen unicorns that live here. We often get artists that come up to Whither’s Hollow for the isolation, the serenity, but this is the first time I can think of that we’ve had a unicorn come up for magical studies.”

Star Swirl inwardly groaned. This would be an obstacle to the building of friendships, if he was going to be viewed more as a circus attraction than a pony. No matter, no matter, Star Swirl thought. If their interest is limited to my being a unicorn, I certainly can’t stop it. And perhaps it won’t be so bad.

“Oh, here we are,” said Emory. “Blackwood Road.”

They faced a dirt road lined with cottages of all shapes and colors. It branched out from the town like the stem of an apple, reaching out towards the forest that lay at the town’s north-western border.

The pair started down the road, and Star Swirl watched the house numbers tick by. One. Three. Soon seventeen, twenty-three, thirty, thirty-two…

And the road ended. It simply stopped just after house thirty-two, then seemed to dissipate into grass. Star Swirl bit his lower lip.

“Emory, I’m so sorry if there’s been some sort of mistake – ”

“Oh, no, there hasn’t been a mistake. Follow me; the road hasn’t ended.”

Emory set off into the grass, Star Swirl’s wheeled trunk in tow. Star Swirl examined the end of the road, and saw that Emory was right – it hadn’t ended. The grass had simply grown over it. If you looked carefully, you could still make out where the road had been. Star Swirl galloped to catch up with Emory.

The two of them followed the almost-road, over the gently sloping earth, closer and closer to the very mouth of the forest. They followed it up a small hill, and when they reached the top, Star Swirl looked down and saw where the almost-road led.

Hidden from the view of the rest of Whither’s Hollow by the small hill, there sat a little wooden cabin. It was clearly a forgotten place, or at least severely unused. But it looked stable enough – a stone chimney, enough space for three or four rooms, no evident signs of crumbling or disintegration. It was only thirty or so yards from the edge of the woods.

“You see,” said Emory, starting down the hill, “this cabin was one of the first buildings erected in Whither’s Hollow. Just as sturdy as anything else you could find here. But it’s sat here ignored for years and years – no one touches it except around Winter Wrap Up, you know, just for the sake of keeping the whole town neat and clean. The sheets are changed, the windows are washed. No one talks about it, but the general town consensus is that thirty-three Blackwood Road is cursed.”

They reached the door. Emory produced a key, and offered it to Star Swirl.

Star Swirl unlocked the door, and it opened with a rusty but not altogether unwelcoming creak. They entered what seemed to be a living room, with a wooden table with three chairs, a long bench with blankets, a sofa, and a large stone fireplace. The room was a little bare, but everything seemed fine. The biggest problem was probably excess accumulation of dust.

Star Swirl magically opened one of the pieces of luggage he carried, and from it he pulled a collection of lanterns and candles. They each lit themselves with a quick crackle of red sparks, and Star Swirl placed them all around the room. Suddenly, thirty-three Blackwood Road seemed downright homey.

Star Swirl saw that Emory had the most wonderful grin on his face – so infectious that, for some reason he couldn’t articulate, Star Swirl found himself smiling, too.

“I think I’m going to like magic,” said Emory.

Emory’s eyes suddenly brightened – he’d clearly been struck by inspiration. “Say,” he said, “I don’t know if it’s impolite to ask or anything, I’ve never known many unicorns… But since you’re studying magic and all… I don’t suppose you can tell whether this place is really cursed or not?”

Star Swirl had just been thinking about that himself. Whether it was an inborn talent or a sense sharpened by years of training and study, he was very sensitive to magic. He could normally tell if an object was enchanted just by touching it, and if a spell was cast within a mile of Star Swirl, he’d know.

He began slowly walking around the room, touching the walls with his hoof, trying to get a sense of the place (Emory, watching from the doorway, contained his excitement with some effort). He closed his eyes, he opened himself up to the possibilities of magic. But there was nothing.

Star Swirl turned back to Emory. “There’s nothing. So far as I can tell, there’s no curse on this place.”

“Oh! That’s good,” said Emory, but in truth, he seemed just the tiniest bit put out. “I never really believed it, but wouldn’t that be something, if it was cursed? Well, that’s one lifelong mystery solved. Anyway, it’s getting dark, and I don’t mean to keep you up. If there’s anything you need, you can find me if you ask at the Mayor’s office. I’ll be around town, so I’ll probably run into you tomorrow anyway. I’ll take my leave. See you around.”

“Goodbye, Emory. Thanks for the help.”

“Sure thing.”

And with a creak and a click, Star Swirl was alone.

He investigated the place. There was the living room, a washroom, and a bedroom, all stocked with the bare necessities – a towel and two bars of soap in the washroom, the furniture in the living room, and a plain wooden bed equipped with a mattress and sheets in the bedroom, plus a small dresser. Star Swirl quietly set about making himself at home in the light of his candles and lamps, unpacking, rearranging.

In spite of himself, Star Swirl rather liked Whither’s Hollow so far. It seemed to be a place with a good deal of personality, a good deal of history. And best of all, he thought, I’ve already begun my assignment, before I even finished unpacking. I might not have enough insight to write to the princess yet, but it's a start. Ah, and that reminds me.

With all of his other things now put away in closets, cupboards and dressers, Star Swirl retrieved the Dragon’s Tongue from his pocket. With a flicker of white light from his horn, the wick sparked and began to burn. The flame was a subdued, dull green one, an odd addition to the cabin’s current cheery glow.

He went through the cabin one last time before bed, putting out all the lamps and candles. Finally he was alone with the Dragon’s Tongue. In the quivering, nearly sickly green light it gave, Star Swirl suddenly found it much easier to believe that thirty-three Blackwood Road was cursed. But he knew that it could not be.

He placed the green, pulsing flame on the dresser in his bedroom. He slipped out of his cloak and into bed. Star Swirl lay there, watching the faint, flickering shadows on the wall until sleep came to him. His dreams were soft and empty.

The darkness that night was great, bolstered by a smattering of clouds. In Whither’s Hollow, not a light could be seen. Only the dimmest of lights, a somber green glimmer, was visible to the outside world. And even that might have been mistaken for a trick of the eye.

But lights or no lights, the Shadows were on the move.

They roamed to the south of Whither’s Hollow, sniffing the air, treading lightly, sticking to the darkest places. They paced across the river which ran gently in the south-east. And they prowled along the edge of Blackwood Forest in the north-west. The Shadows pawed at the earth, smelling the ponies, gazing blankly at the dark, slumbering shapes of the pony houses and cottages, slowly advancing, slowly daring to venture just a little bit closer to those shapes, just a little bit closer to that bizarre, alluring green glimmer, slowly, steadily –

And suddenly the clouds parted, and the white, burning majesty of the full moon washed over the hills and houses and trees. There was no more room left for Shadows. They retreated to the caves and dungeons and burrows where no light ever pierces the dark. The night was bright again, clear, brilliant. The moon towered over Whither’s Hollow, ever watchful and vigilant.

That night, all was quiet.

Comments

[TalltalePony]

Wow! This is fantastic! The second chapter really drew me in with the right amount of tension.

U has liekz and fave.

[Moose Mage]

3162650
Thanks for the kind words, my friend! I'm thrilled you're enjoying it.

[ferventwilight]

Well, Star Swirl is trying to manipulate his way out of making friends... Just like Twilight! It's interesting that he can sense curses and spells and whatnot(as long as they are not masked or anything(I have a feeling we will see some limits on his powers later.) Such a vivid description of his new house. I also love the Dragon's Tongue ex Machina. It is a plot convience, but a necessary one. I, for one, am glad we don't have a new character, because SS's fatal flaw is masking himself from other ponies, rather than TS's obsession with checklists and mania, so another Spike character would be obselete. Sometimes the best sign of good writing is knowing when to not introduce a new concept or character.
I really sympathize with SS. On the Internet I can make long and articulate responses to Fanfiction, but I hate talking to people. I was so reluctant to talk to people up until 4th grade I spoke not a word to anyone at school, except for polite conversation. Hello, How is your day, Goodbye. I guess I was content in my reading and grades. I never missed a question until 4th grade, and I still have a 4.3. After 4th grade, I had to go to a special camp where I was reformed into making friends. While it may be a little dark, I probably never would have joined FIM without it. I feel like that's the direction Tia is forcing TS and SS to take with this whole friendship thing. Prediction: They need to power up the Elements again because Tia has lost the connection. So, Emory seems like Honesty, SS is magic... other ponies will appear.

[Moose Mage]

5494018
Glad you're still enjoying it, my friend! I appreciate your comments about the Dragon's Tongue; from the start, I knew that Star Swirl's story would have a few inescapable parallel's to Twilight's story, and the pilot episodes of the series. I was very concerned about letting this story evolve into its own beast, without using those first episodes as any kind of reference/standard. Hurrah that it's sorta-kinda working for you! (Thus far.)
(Slightly serious time.) I'm sorry to hear that Star Swirl's brand of social awkwardness has had an effect on your life (I think I understand: personally, I had to draw on a lot of my life experience writing this story), but if it's any consolation, your Internet-self is just as eloquent, polite and charming as anyone I've met in the flesh. Great to hear from you again, Fervant.