The Tutelage of Star Swirl

by Moose Mage

Whither's Hollow

Morning came softly. A red sunrise quietly set trees afire all over Equestria. And just east of Canterlot, a little filly named Toffee was rising from bed.

Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled outside of her lonely red house by the river, searching for her papa, calling to him, hoping for breakfast. “Papa! Where are you? Papa!”

But Papa was not outside. All she could see was the river, the house, Papa’s mill, and –

The shed. The shed door was open.

Toffee squinted and rubbed her eyes again, but the shed door remained ajar. Papa didn’t like to leave anything unlocked; he was afraid of thieves in the night. Why didn’t Papa lock the door last night? Was he in there now? Toffee didn’t hear the banging of the hammer, or the low buzz of a saw. What could he possibly be doing out here, so early in the morning?

Careful not to slip on the dewy grass, Toffee set out for the shed. “Papa, I’m hungry! What are you doing out here, silly-head?”

She pushed the door fully open and was confronted with a wall of black, no windows or lit lanterns. A bubble of night that had survived the sunrise. Toffee gazed into the black. “Papa?” she said, but the darkness seemed to absorb all sound. She gazed into that blackness, first with curiosity, then with trepidation…

And her eyes adjusted, ever so slightly, just enough for her to make out the lifeless lump on the floor, and the hulking Shadow that stood over it, a Shadow that breathed, that moved with a life of its own, a figure that stepped over the lifeless lump and advanced on the doorway, and somehow, Toffee could see the Shadow’s eyes, and how they burned, how they hungered, how they raged –

And she was taken.

Star Swirl awoke to the sound of a flute.

A beam of early morning sunlight from a nearby window fell on his face, setting his eyes aglow behind their lids. He sat upright in bed, the sound of the flute sifting into the cabin from under the doors, through the cracks in the walls. It was a mellow melody, gently falling and rising, falling and rising. Star Swirl rubbed his eyes.

“Who in Equestria could possibly…” he muttered, rolling out of bed, his sound sleep disturbed. Now fully awake, he snatched up his cloak from the floor and flung it around himself as he made his way to the front door.

He threw the door open and cast his eyes about the grassy hills surrounding the cabin.

Sitting on a tree stump not far from the front of thirty-three Blackwood Road was a brown earth pony. In his hooves he held a dull silver flute, and he gently swayed as the music played, the tune floating on the swelling and diminishing waves of his breath. His eyes were closed, his expression serene, almost meditative.

“You there!” Star Swirl called. “What are you doing here?”

The music ended with a botched squeak of a note, and the brown pony all but fell off the stump with shock at the sudden interruption. Apparently, he had not expected the abandoned and shunned thirty-three Blackwood Road to suddenly be occupied by an irritated gray unicorn.

The brown pony shot to his feet, staring at Star Swirl. He seemed terrified, but the shock seemed to have fused his hooves to the spot.

“I-I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to… uh…”

“See here,” said Star Swirl, stepping down from the door, “if you want to play that infernal pipe of yours, would you please be so courteous as to find – ”

Star Swirl stopped himself. This was only the second pony he’d met in Whither’s Hollow. Was this how he intended to make friends? Just look at this brown stallion, he could melt into a puddle at any moment. Take a breath, Star Swirl, gain some composure, he told himself. You might be able to remedy this yet.

Star Swirl blinked away the early morning mind-fog, and put on what he suspected was a sympathetic smile (the brown pony, in turn, began looking very confused). “Just listen to me,” said Star Swirl, laughing at himself. “You’d think I never had a visitor. Maybe it’s the early hour… I’m sorry to startle you. What’s your name?”

The earth pony stared at Star Swirl, slowly realizing that he was not about to be incinerated by a bolt of magical lightning. “My name’s Pan. I’m sorry that I woke you, I didn’t realize – ”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m sorry I yelled,” said Star Swirl, walking over to the stump. “Can we start over?”

Pan nodded – his discomfort was starting to crumble away. “Sure.”

Star Swirl held up a front hoof. “I’m Star Swirl. Pleased to meet you.”

They shook hooves. Pan finally let the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Pan, glancing at the ground, “but… What are you doing here? I mean, no pony’s lived here for ages.”

“Yes, well, I think that some of the arrangements made for me to stay at Whither’s Hollow were a bit… uninformed. I’m just here for some magical studies, then I’ll be on my way…”

Something behind Pan’s eyes lit up. “Magic? I like magic.”

“Do you? A pony called Emory told me last night that you don’t have many unicorns around here.”

“That’s right. But I still like magic… or the idea of it, anyway. You know, I don’t think music and magic are really that different.”

“Is that so?” said Star Swirl, mentally bracing himself for the uninformed opinion of a lay-pony.

“Sure.” Pan examined his flute. “I’ve studied music for a long time – my whole life, really – and I still have no idea what it is. But I think I’ve been around long enough to know how it works. Music is a science, a discipline, and an art. I think that’s probably true of magic, too…”

Star Swirl’s eyebrows went up. This was an insightful view of magic. And it was a view that Star Swirl himself hadn’t considered before. To his great surprise, Star Swirl found himself impressed.

Pan’s eyes shifted again to the ground. “But I don’t really know… You’d know, I wouldn’t…”

“No, no, it’s fine. That’s… interesting. Always good to share opinions, always enlightening. Tell me, Pan, why is it that you were playing your flute outside my cabin this morning?”

Here was another trick of communication and trust-building which Star Swirl had learned through experience and observation – ponies loved to talk about themselves. Even if they were a bit withdrawn, as this Pan was, there was no better way to draw them out of their shells then by letting them speak about the goings on of their own lives. This, Star Swirl knew, was an effective strategy. But as he asked his questions, he was surprised to find that he truly did want to know more about Pan, why he was out here, what he was playing.

“I always come here in the morning,” said Pan, finally relaxing into an honest smile. “It’s a pretty spot, and it’s just far enough away from the rest of the town that I’m not bothering anyone. I’ll practice, I’ll write new pieces – Then when I’m done, I’ll go wander around the center of town to do some thinking… Inspiration, if you’d like. Sometimes I’ll go back to my cottage to write something down, sometimes I’ll come back out here to play around with an idea. It’s just a nice spot.”

“You’ve lived here a while?”

“No, I live down south. But sometimes, I’ll spend a few weeks up here in Whither’s Hollow, just to get away, just to have some quiet to get my work done… If you’d like, I could show you around.”

Star Swirl had planned to spend the day quietly observing the town, perhaps poking his nose in here or there, forming a plan of attack. Yes, a trip into town with Pan would mean losing the benefit of invisible observation, but as long as a guide was presenting himself on a silver platter…

“That sounds great, Pan. Lead the way.”

By the time the two of them arrived on Main Street, Whither’s Hollow was undoubtedly wide awake. Ponies bustled in the streets with carts and packages, foals chased each other, laughing in the streets, and all of the shops Star Swirl had passed by the night before now sported signs in their front windows reading “Open.” Star Swirl asked Pan about where he might find some magical supplies.

“There’s a little bookshop up on Amity Avenue,” said Pan, “but I don’t think it has much in the way of magic.”

“That’s all right,” said Star Swirl. “I brought most of what I’ll need with me.”

Besides, he thought, maybe it’s best that I don’t make my magical interests too public. My horn already seems to be attracting too much attention.

Star Swirl had indeed noticed that the further they’d ventured into town, the more ponies would subtly glance his way, whispering and giggling to each other. Star Swirl tried to keep his head down, but dropped that particular strategy when he accidentally walked headlong into a passing mail-pony, most likely leaving a nasty bruise on her side.

Star Swirl knew that this would not be manageable for long. There has to be something I can do…

A shop sign caught his eye. The Wardrobe: Apparel for Everypony. In a large window mounted on stands were assorted coats, shoes, blankets… and hats.

“You know, Pan, I think I’m going to need some extra clothes while I’m here. I need to pay a visit to The Wardrobe.”

And before Pan could respond, Star Swirl was trotting through the shop door.

Inside, a kindly looking old mare was waiting behind a counter. “Good morning, dear,” she wheezed. “Can I be of some assistance?”

“Yes,” said Star Swirl. He eyes hungrily swept over the room, and he saw a hat stand tucked into the corner. They mostly looked too small – but there, sitting on the very top of the stand. A wide brimmed, pointy blue hat. Nothing too fancy, but it seemed good enough to get the job done.

He magically lifted the hat off the stand and placed on the counter. “Just this will be fine.”

“That will be three bits.”

As Star Swirl rummaged in his cloak for change, the door clunked open behind him, announcing that Pan had caught up. He watched with sort of fascinated confusion as Star Swirl paid the old mare and fitted the plain blue hat on top of his head.

Star Swirl knew that he couldn’t fit his horn into the pointed section of the hat. Instead, he pulled the wide blue rim forward until it rested snugly on his horn. That should do it, he thought. Now at least it’s a little hidden.

“Star Swirl?”

“Sorry for the delay, Pan,” said Star Swirl, turning to the perplexed brown pony. “But I forgot to bring a hat. I’ll need one, for, uh… rain. Or sun.”

“Star Swirl, I think that hat might be meant for mares.”

“Ah. Well, good. I’ve never been a fan of pony gender roles. Anyway, I don’t mean to keep you waiting.”

And the two of them were back outside, walking the streets. As Star Swirl asked questions and Pan supplied answers, he observed the reception his hat was getting. Oddly enough, the hat attracted less attention that just his horn had. There was no excited whispering, only the occasional judgmental glare from an older pony. Star Swirl grinned. I think I’ll grow to like this hat.

As the two of them ventured on, the streets abruptly widened, and suddenly things were much busier. Ponies in stalls were selling apples, carrots, fish, fresh produce of all sorts, calling out to passers-by to purchase their wares. It seemed to Star Swirl that most of Whither’s Hollow was probably there.

“Oh, I forgot – today is market day,” said Pan, somewhere between an explanation and an apology. “If you want to go somewhere quieter, we could – ”

“No, no, not at all,” said Star Swirl. “This is fine.” In a busy market like this, perhaps I’ll be able to get some inconspicuous observation done after all, he thought.

The first thing Star Swirl picked up on as he and Pan waded through the sea of shopping and chatter was that these ponies gave off very different energy than what he was used to. Star Swirl was accustomed to spending time around ponies who sat quietly in libraries and learned about the world through the windows in books, ponies who spoke in careful euphemisms and subtle tones. But here was a market place filled with ponies who had little patience for euphemisms, ponies who seldom needed to look through the windows of books, because they were content with the views they had. Emotions and relationships were naked in Whither’s Hollow. Star Swirl and Pan passed two mares who were absolutely shrieking with laughter at something a baker at a pastry-stand had said.

Star Swirl realized that this nakedness intimidated him.

His eyes surfed the crowd as Pan talked about some of the pony vendors, the state of the market, and something about a town-wide anniversary celebration coming up. Star Swirl watched as the business of friendship and the business of business unfolded around him. Here, a sprightly copper-colored pegasus bartered with a plump, greasy looking earth pony over a set of candlesticks. There, a very serious assembly of foals drew dragons on the cobblestones with chalk of every hue. And over there –

Something knocked into Star Swirl’s side, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. Somepony cried “Sorry!” and Star Swirl looked up from under the brim of his hat just in time to see a pink pony galloping through the crowd with surprising agility, ducking and weaving, a brown satchel slung across her back. He only saw her for a split second, then she vanished into the crowd.

Something fluttered in the air, and drifted down like a snowflake to the ground. Star Swirl bent down to examine it. A petal; a flower petal.

He looked up over the crowd just in time to look down the street and see the door of The Blue Rose swing shut.

Star Swirl looked at that door, and for some reason, something about that pink pony… interested him. Engaged him. He’d only seen her for a moment, yes, but somehow, she’d been… different from the others. She had a different energy. Something more lively, more exciting, something he couldn’t quite put his hoof on…

Star Swirl was surprised to find himself moving in the direction of The Blue Rose. He’d never been the sort of pony to go after things. He was usually content to sit back and watch and ponder. How strange it was that he should suddenly find a new spirit of curiosity alive inside him, as if something in Whither’s Hollow had seeped into his skin overnight.

He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Pan. He saw that some ten paces back, Pan had accidentally knocked over a cart-full of bags of flour, which now sat heaped on the cobblestone road in snowy mounds. A tall, wide, rather intense-looking stallion was now turning quite red in the face, pointing a hoof in Pan’s direction and all but spitting with rage, his words drowned out by the crowd. Pan, his face to the ground, could only nod and mumble apologies. And to Star Swirl’s surprise, there at Pan’s side, Emory had appeared. A stern look on his face, Emory seemed to be speaking to the tall-wide pony as if he were a lawyer in a courtroom, defending his client against a venomous prosecution.

It looks as if Pan and Emory know each other, thought Star Swirl. Half of him wanted to go back to Pan and see if he could help, but the other half was being silently and inexplicably pulled in the direction of The Blue Rose. Well… It does look like Emory has things under control. I won’t be long, I’ll just pop in and… and see what’s inside…

And so, perhaps for the first time in his life, Star Swirl chose the uncertain over the certain.

The crowd thinned as he made his way to The Blue Rose, and very soon he found himself in front of the door. He pushed it open with one hoof.

Ding.

Once inside, Star Swirl looked up and saw a tiny golden bell on a hook above the door, positioned so that it would ding once when the door opened, and once when it closed. It was a remarkable little cup-shaped bell, the sort of thing you might expect to find in the bell tower of a very tiny cathedral. Star Swirl looked up in time to see it ding once more as the door swung shut behind him. It was a pleasant sound.

The shop was covered with shelves, and on those shelves were dozens of pots and bouquets and all sorts of arrangements of flowers. Suspended from the ceiling was a pot of insect-like green buds, glistening metallically. On a shelf just by the door, a plate-sized beast of a flower, with soft, black, silky petals exploding from a red center. Everywhere, blues, yellows, oranges, golds. And busying herself unloading fresh new white flowers from her brown satchel was the pink pony. She hummed as she worked, placing a few pots of the white flowers on the highest shelf of the far wall. Having heard the bell, she called out from over her shoulder.

“Welcome to The Blue Rose, what can I do for you?"

She stretched up onto the tips of her hooves, and the pot jiggled into place on the shelf above her. Grunting with satisfaction, she scurried about the other shelves around her in a flurry, making room for the new additions from her bottomless brown bag. Adjusting a strange yellow antenna of a plant, she caught a glimpse at Star Swirl. Her business smile morphed into a genuine one. “Nice hat,” she said.

This took a moment for Star Swirl to register, and then his face flushed with heat. “Yes – well…” he stammered, toying with his hat, not quite sure what to do with it. “I didn’t – I’m pretty sure it’s meant for mares.”

Star Swirl’s whole body went rigid. The pink mare’s eyebrows went up.

Ah yes, Star Swirl thought, still toying with his hat. Winner of friends and conqueror of small-talk. That’s me.

The mare laughed, a sound that was neither forced nor embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you,” she said, fishing the last of the exotic-looking plants from her bag.

Star Swirl made up his mind to remove his hat, and put it on a rack by the door. And when the pink mare’s eyes focused his horn, he wished immediately that he had not done so.

“Aha! So you must be Star Swirl.”

He blinked. “You know me?”

“Well, Emory mentioned that you’d be arriving soon,” said the pink pony, taking her place behind the counter.

Star Swirl approached, his interest rekindled. “You know Emory?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known each other for ages. Did he welcome you last night?”

“Yes, he showed me to my cabin.”

“Mmm.” She whipped a rag out of thin air and started cleaning off the counter. “That’s very much like him, you know. He likes to be involved in everything. Frankly, I get exhausted just watching him. But I’m not saying he’s doing anything wrong! I mean, after all, who could blame him? Did he tell you his last name?”

“No.”

“Whither. Emory Whither. His great-great-whatever grandparents founded this town, and the family never strayed far. The Whither family has always been in charge, winning elections and serving the community and all that. And no one really minds – they practically rear their children for it nowadays, and hey, the town’s still standing after two hundred years. Well, one hundred ninety-nine, the bicentennial’s coming up soon.”

“I heard about – ”

“Emory’s grandmother Agnes Whither is Mayor now, and she’s trying to keep the bicentennial preparations running smoothly, but she’s getting old, bless her heart, and Emory is starting to handle more and more of the everyday-maintenance sorts of things. Imagine it, hardly nineteen, and he’s all but running a whole town – Oh! All this chatter, and I forget to tell you my name. I’m Lily.”

She stuck out her hoof over the counter.

Struck slightly dumb by Lily’s boundless, earthy energy, Star Swirl shook her hoof and said, “Star Swirl. Pleased to meet you.”

“So, what brings you here, Star Swirl?”

“Well, I was walking around with a pony I met this morning, I saw the shop, decided I might – ”

“No, no, I mean, what brings you to Whither’s Hollow?”

“Oh. Well, I’m a student. I’m up here taking some time to study.”

“Study what?”

“… Magic.”

Star Swirl was expecting Lily’s eyes to light up. Instead she just gave him a very incredulous look. “And is Whither’s Hollow much of a hot-spot for magical studies?”

Star Swirl stared at Lily. And then all he could do was laugh. Lily joined him.

“No,” he said, catching his breath. “Not really.”

“Well, to Tartarus with us, then! Go over to Canterlot, or somewhere like that, find one of those fancy unicorn magic-tutors. Do you have a teacher?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Yes… I suppose we’re both waiting to see if things work out.”

“Well then, Star Swirl, I wish the best for you, and I hope ‘things’ work out. Now, I’m obligated to ask you this – ” She cleared her throat. “Would you care to buy some flowers, sir? The chrysanthemums are lovely this time of year.”

Star Swirl grinned. “I’m afraid not, thank you. Just browsing.”

“Well thank goodness that’s over.” They both laughed. “I care about this shop, I swear!” Lily cried with a wide smile. “I made such a fuss this morning about getting over here early enough to open on time.” She cast her eyes around the empty shop. “Not that The Blue Rose is the most popular shop in town… But we do what we can, don’t we?”

Star Swirl nodded. “We certainly do.”

Suddenly Star Swirl remembered; Pan and the spilled flour. It was probably all cleared up by now, and Pan would be wondering where he’d gone. “Excuse me, Lily, I have to go, I’m late for a friend. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to – ”

“Not at all, not at all,” she said. Star Swirl galloped to the door and retrieved his hat from the rack. Lily called after him. “You come back again soon, you hear me, Star Swirl? I’m not through with you yet.”

Star Swirl turned back and smiled. “I will.”

As he positioned the brim of his hat over his horn, Star Swirl had the most peculiar feeling of lightness in his chest. That was… nice, he thought as he opened the door. Not false or forced, not calculated. It was nice.

Ding.

Princess Celestia was filled with a cold unease.

It was not yet noon, and a tragedy had struck. She sat on her throne and listened wearily to a messenger relay the savage deaths of two ponies east of Canterlot. Mysterious circumstances. Strange wounds.

“Did they have any other family?” Celestia asked.

“Yes, Princess,” said the messenger. “The miller pony has a brother and a sister working in the mines down south.”

“Next week, I will attend the funeral. I shall pay my respects and offer my condolences to the siblings.”

“Very good, your Highness.”

She dismissed the messenger, and sat there in thought for some time. She did not stir again until a Royal Guard marched into the throne room. She straightened up.

“I asked not to be disturbed, Captain,” she said to the guard. “What is the meaning of this?”

The guard bowed. “Begging your pardon, Princess Celestia,” he said, “but one of your historical consultants learned that this had arrived at the Palace, and demanded that you see it.”

“What is ‘this’? What is ‘it’? Don’t speak in circles, Captain, show me what you have.”

The guard held up a yellow envelope. Celestia magically plucked it from his hooves and brought it before her. And as she got her first good look at it, a numbness stole over her. All of Canterlot fell away, eclipsed by this one square of parchment.

On the front of that envelope was a seal of black wax. In that wax were carved two jagged, parallel lines, like twin bolts of lightning. To any other pony, these lines would have been nothing more than decorative scribbles. But Celestia knew better. She knew because she had seen it before. She knew that those jagged lines carved into the black wax were two rows of gaping, crooked, pointed teeth.

Comments

[TalltalePony]

Sweet! Another Chapter!

An excellent read as always, Moose. It's great to see Starswirl building up his posse; looks like he's going to need them, and he doesn't have the benefits of the Mcguffins of Harmony.

Dis gon' be good.

[Fez Head]

Hehheh, looks like Star Swirl might have a little crush. ;)

[Moose Mage]

3252657
I couldn't possibly confirm or deny... (sly wink)...

[xgfhj]

On the front of that envelope was a seal of black wax. In that wax were carved two jagged, parallel lines, like twin bolts of lightning. To any other pony, these lines would have been nothing more than decorative scribbles. But Celestia knew better. She knew because she had seen it before. She knew that those jagged lines carved into the black wax were two rows of gaping, crooked, pointed teeth.

Heh. The Storm King's symbol, way before its time.