“No…” Twilight huffed with whispered gasps. “No, it can’t be.”
It floated towards her. Menacing. Unstoppable. Her darkened office in the School of Friendship felt suddenly cavernous, with only her and it in the vast, empty space.
“I–” Twilight swallowed. “I-I-I have no choice! But this can’t be right.”
It hovered closer. Closer. She could see the dim light of the gem lamp refract off its glossy surface.
“Not the red. Not the red!”
It was upon her.
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!”
“Twilight!” Starlight Glimmer burst through the office door, throwing light into the room.
“Eep!” Twilight recoiled, and the red pen hovering in front of her face fell to the ground with a small tchk.
Starlight cocked an eyebrow and took a step closer. “Are… you okay in here?”
“Fine!” Twilight stood straight up. Her face broke out into a huge grimace. “Absolutely. Just grading papers, nothing to worry about here!” She glanced at the red pen. Her eyes bulged out, and with a flick of her head and a flare of her horn, the pen teleported back into the color-coded box on her desk. “Just cleaning up a bit.”
“Uh-huh,” Starlight said with a flat tone. “Let me rephrase that: you’re clearly in the middle of a Twi-Tizzy–”
Twilight cocked an eyebrow. “A what?”
Starlight waved her hoof. “The first-years came up with it. You’re clearly agitated about something, and I’m sure your students wouldn’t approve of their professor being dishonest.” As Twilight frowned and looked at the floor, Starlight trotted to the drapes. “And you know that reading in the dark isn’t good for your eyes, right?”
“No!” Twilight flared her wings and flew over to the drapes, slamming them back closed as soon as Starlight had opened them.
Starlight leapt back. “Sheesh, Twilight! What’s the matter?”
Twilight hovered in the air. “The students will get lunch out in the courtyard soon, and I… ugh!” She slammed her hooves to her face. “Four of my best students failed their Theory of Friendship final, and I can’t bring myself to look at them right now.”
Starlight gasped. “They failed? How? And who? I thought everyone in your class has been doing well, or at least passable.”
“That’s why it’s so shocking.” Twilight landed and folded in her wings. She cantered over to her desk. Four stacks of stapled paper, bathed in purple light, floated up from it and circled around her head. “Clawdia, Sugarberry, Yosef, Rubble… None of them did the assignment.”
“Really?” Starlight stroked her chin. “Those four have been fantastic students, at least since they fought off the trolls in Everfree a few weeks ago.”
“They did what!?” Twilight whipped around and stared directly at Starlight, wide-eyed and clenching her jaw.
Starlight’s ears folded back. “Oh… You… hadn’t heard about that?” She waved it off with a small laugh. “It’s fine. Nobody was hurt.”
“Well maybe that’s why they didn’t have time to do the assignment properly!” She paced back and forth in front of her desk. “They were supposed to write about the grand unified theory of friendship, including all six Elements, but just listen to what Clawdia wrote.” She magically flipped through one of the papers to its back page. “‘‘In conclusion, adventure is the soul of friendship. Excitement stimulates our relationships into growth, and without it, friendship can only stagnate.’”
Starlight shrugged. “That’s actually not a bad lesson. She’s discovering how to build friendships on her own, right?”
“But it wasn’t the assignment!” She continued pacing. “And here’s Rubble’s opening: ‘While the Elements of Harmony are important to understand, it is the active cultivation of friendship and mutual experience that binds friends together.’”
Starlight nodded. “That makes sense, too. Did he include the necessary sources? Follow up with a reasonable, logical argument?”
“Yes and yes, but that’s not the point!” She turned on her back hooves and faced Starlight. “His argument just tosses away the Elements of Harmony like they’re nothing! These concepts are incredibly important, Starlight. If they don’t master them, then–”
“Then you’ll feel like a failure,” Starlight declared firmly.
Twilight stopped dead in her tracks. “N-no, that’s not it at all.” She quickly gathered herself and could almost feel the gears of logic turning in her brain. “The Elements form the foundation of a strong friendship. Understanding them is the only thing that’s protected Equestria from the forces of darkness, over and over and over again. I can’t be everywhere at once.” She stopped, eyes wide, then picked up a notepad and pencil. “Note to self: copying spell? Talk to Pinkie.” She jotted a note and set them back down. “I can’t be everywhere yet, so I need to train the students to be ready.”
Starlight sat down with a relaxed sigh. “Uh-huh.” She waved Twilight on. “Keep going. Get it out of your system.”
Undaunted, Twilight floated other students’ papers over to Starlight. “The other students understood the assignment, so I can’t have done that bad of a job.” She bit her lip. “I mean, the material can’t be that difficult for this level of study. Just look!”
Several papers floated around Starlight’s head in a circle. Each one was marked with copious notes – most of them positive and encouraging – in a range of colors. Starlight squinted at a few as they floated by. “You sure use a lot of colors to grade a few papers.”
“It’s my own system!” Twilight bounced on her hooves and levitated her box of pens to them. “I color-code my notes to the students: orange for comments about honesty, pink for laughter, yellow, blue, and purple for kindness, loyalty, and generosity, respectively, and I save lavender for when they uncover something even I didn’t know about magic.” Twilight laughed with a snort. “Not to brag, but I don’t use the lavender one much.”
Starlight’s expression flattened. “You’re one-hundred-percent bragging.”
“Fair enough.” The pens and papers floated back onto Twilight’s desk, where they magically stacked into neat little piles. Twilight let out a heavy sigh. “But red is for failure. I almost never have to use it, and unleashing it’s terrible power on four students at once?” She flopped to the floor and covered her face with her hooves. “I can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Hm…” Starlight rolled her tongue around her mouth as she thought. “I have an idea. Let’s grab lunch out in the courtyard.”
Twilight peeked out from behind her hooves. “Do we have to?”
“As your student counselor and your friend: yes.” Her horn began to glow, but she stopped it. “Actually, let’s walk.”
Twilight sat up. “Really? Why?”
Starlight groaned. “I’m trying to stop solving all my problems with magic. Baby steps.”
They walked through the lavish, dignified halls to the staff lounge, where they picked up a few pre-bagged lunches that Spike always found time to make. With their food in tow, they headed out to the courtyard, where they relaxed beneath a large, blossoming tree.
The courtyard sat nestled among all six of the school halls, under the open sky and surrounded by a high, stone wall that made it feel secure without being constricting. Walkways were minimal, leaving large stretches of the courtyard with bright, healthy grass for students to study or nap on. One corner of the courtyard was dotted with picnic tables, where a few students already ate their lunches, and a group of ponies and yaks were playing frisbee near the main gate. Calm laughter and quiet conversations traveled on the breeze, interrupted only by Twilight’s occasional grunts and the tapping of her fidgeting hooves.
Starlight quickly opened her bag. “Ooh! Hummus!” She dug in, and Twilight continued taking quick, snappy looks around the field.
She swallowed hard when Yosef walked out of his most recent class with Sugarberry. They made an odd pair: Yosef was one of the smallest yaks at the school, but he always wore a giant hat in the shape of a helmet that he’d knitted himself. Sugarberry was tall for her age, even for an earth pony, and her strawberry patch cutie mark stuck out against her green-tinted fur. Even though they looked so different, they laughed and excitedly talked about something Twilight couldn’t quite hear, and their conversation didn’t miss a beat as they sat at a picnic table with their lunches.
Starlight chimed in, biting a carrot stick. “They’re both introverts, you know. At the start of the year, they each had meetings with me about how hard it was to make friends.”
Twilight looked back at Starlight with a raised eyebrow. “They seem to be pretty comfortable with each other now.”
“Not just each other.” Starlight nodded back to the table. A top-heavy, brown dragon with purple horns swooped down from above. He snacked on a bag of gems and slipped right into the conversation. He was soon followed by a white-and-brown griffon with an orange tuft of feathers on her chest, who cracked a joke that had the rest of the table howling with laughter.
“Rubble used to bully them all,” Starlight continued. “And Clawdia didn’t even speak for two whole weeks after she got here.”
Twilight snorted. In a hushed tone, she snapped back, “This just goes to show how important our lessons are!” She sighed and looked back at them. “Look how much better off they are. All of us taught them about the magic of friendship.”
“Did we?” Starlight asked with a coy smile.
Twilight reeled back. “That’s the whole point! How else did they–”
She was interrupted by a loud bang on the school gates. It was followed by another, then another, until in crashed the largest creature Twilight had ever seen on campus. It was two stories tall with green skin and thick hair on its tree-trunk arms and legs. Long, sharp tusks jutted out of its mouth, and its roar shook the walls of the school.
“Troll!” The students in the courtyard screamed and abandoned their food. They ran around in a panic, all except four students.
Rubble, Clawdia, Sugarberry, and Yosef all nodded to each other, and Rubble pounded his chest. “Let’s go, team!”
The four of them leapt into action. Sugarberry and Yosef split off to the sides of the troll, their hooves thumping hard on the grass. Rubble and Clawdia took off to the skies. They beat their wings and climbed high up, circling overhead of the troll.
Twilight jumped to her hooves. “Let’s go, Starlight!” Her wings flared out, and she took off. “We need to protect them before– Hey!” Her voice was suddenly muffled by the pink bubble that surrounded her. Twilight looked over her shoulder and saw Starlight casually sipping tea and still lying on the ground, her horn aglow.
With a toss of her head, Twilight’s magic sparked, dismissing the orb. “Starlight! What are you doing?”
“They’ll be fine,” Starlight replied casually.
“Are you crazy!? They can’t fight that thing alone. I’m going to–”
“Trust me,” Starlight cut her off in a sing-song tone.
“Grr…” Twilight growled and landed. “This is incredibly irresponsible of you, Starlight. Those students could get hurt! They aren’t going to take their monster-fighting class until next year, and until then, they aren’t ready!”
“Give it twenty seconds.” She flicked her hoof. “We can teleport them out if they need help. Trust me,” she repeated.
In a huff, Twilight readied herself to pounce. She brought all her power to her horn for a teleportation spell, and she narrowed her eyes at the four students with laser-like focus.
The battle raged on in front of her. While Rubble and Clawdia swarmed the troll’s head like mosquitoes, the troll reared back for a kick. His foot came forward, right for Yosef, but Sugarberry interposed herself. She spun on her front hooves, then bucked the troll’s foot out of the way, knocking him off balance.
Yosef’s short tail flapped wildly behind him. “Sugarberry have second-best kicks, right after yak!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Sugarberry yelled back with a smile. She turned her head to the skies. “Y’all ready up there?”
“You got it!” Clawdia yelled back with a salute. With a wry smile, she shouted to Rubble, “Don’t be late, Rubs!”
Rubble threw her a thumbs-up and pumped a fist. “I’m always on time, Claws.”
As the troll regained his balance, the two of them flew upward in a double-helix pattern, then quickly jack-knifed back down in a wide arc to surround the troll. They each extended a claw in front of them as they swooped in to box the troll’s ears. Just as they did, the troll crossed his arms and opened his hands wide, deflecting their attack with his massive palms.
Twilight panted. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest, and her jaw clattered. She looked back at Starlight, who calmly munched on her carrot sticks and hummus. Twilight whipped her head back to the battle, ready to teleport that troll to the edge of Everfree.
Rubble and Clawdia spun in the air and barely avoided a collision. The troll looked between them and tensed.
But Sugarberry stomped her hoof. “Hey! You didn’t forget us, did you?”
The troll stared her down with a grunt.
Sugarberry looked over her shoulder. “All you, big buddy!”
Yosef had backed far away. He dug a forehoof into the dirt, his face twisting and contorting with anger. “Yak…” His muscles were coiled like springs, and all at once, that energy flooded out of his tiny yak body. “SMAAAASH!!!” Yosef dashed forward.
The troll braced itself in a wide stance, ready to tackle the tiny yak that rushed towards him. The troll was so distracted by Yosef, he didn’t see Sugarberry quickly flop onto her back and bring in her hooves, making a four-point platform. “Ready, Yosef!”
Yosef raced onward, and just before he reached Sugarberry, he leapt into the air, landing perfectly on her four hooves with his own. Using his already considerable momentum, Yosef leapt again, and Sugarberry launched him like a springboard. Yosef sailed through the air, horns forward, a small, fuzzy cannonball of fury. “YAAAAAA!!!!!”
The troll’s eyes went wide. It quickly pulled its head back and smashed it forward, ready to crush Yosef with a sickening headbutt.
Time slowed.
Rubble and Clawdia held their breath.
Sugarberry froze.
Twilight shrieked.
“They’re fiiiiiine,” Starlight said, as she tried to scoop up the last of the hummus from the small container.
A thundering crack filled the courtyard, enough to jar the bones of even the strongest pony. Twilight looked on in horror at the four students.
And the troll fell backwards to the ground while Yosef sailed on. The entire courtyard full of students let out a giant cheer.
“Yosef!” Twilight took off in flight, but Rubble and Clawdia caught him middair before she could reach them. They lowered Yosef to the ground as Twilight finally caught up to them. “Are you all okay? What happened? Trolls are dangerous! Why didn’t you–”
She was cut off by the sound of a rumbling, “Brahahahaha!” The troll grabbed his belly and laughed. He laughed and laughed, rolling from side to side, and while he did, the four students rushed up to his massive head to give him a hug and share a belly laugh with him.
Twilight hung in midair. “Uh… Excuse me?”
Sugarberry nuzzled the troll’s giant cheek, and the troll, finally regaining some composure, softly pet her mane. “Nice leg work,” the troll said in a booming voice. “And great hit, Yosef!”
Yosef hopped onto the troll’s belly. “You, too, Gumarg. Trolls have second-best head-butts!”
Clawdia stretched out her back on the grass next to them. “I still say it’s a little much for a secret handshake. I really don’t want to mess up if I’m tired or something.”
Rubble threw his arms out wide. “Are you kidding? This was awesome!” He flexed. “And I’m plenty strong enough to grab our yak bro if you need a break.” He kissed his bicep.
Twilight hovered in the air, slack-jawed. “Um… Hello? Princess of Friendship? Concerned for your safety!?”
Clawdia perked up. “Oh, hey professor! This is our new friend Gumarg. He wants to join the school!”
Gumarg raised a hand and waved with waggling fingers. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Twilight landed. “The pleasure’s… all mine, I guess?”
Gumarg sat up and looked behind him. “Sorry about the door. Gumarg very strong, and nobody answered when I knocked.”
Yosef rushed up to Twilight. “So can he join? Please please please? Maybe Professor Sparkle have a shrink spell or something, but if not, Gumarg promise to be very careful and be a good student!” His tail wagged behind him again.
“Yeah!” Clawdia chimed in. “And we can vouch for him.”
Sugarberry nodded along. “Dragons, yaks, griffons, so why not trolls, right?”
Rubble gave Gumarg a fist-bump. “Yeah, and plenty more where that came from.”
The four students (plus Gumarg) looked up at Twilight with big, pleading eyes. They leaned forward, smiling as wide as they could.
Twilight tensed up as she realized where she was: considering an offer from four students that she was about to fail for not doing their assignment. She could feel the gears turn in her head, calculations about rules and responsibilities. She thought about that red pen, and how absolutely insignificant it seemed when weighed against the five bright faces smiling up at her.
Finally, Twilight’s shoulders relaxed, and she breathed deeply. “You know what? Don’t worry about the door. Let’s get you registered.”
The five friends, along with the whole courtyard, let out another big cheer.
An hour later, Twilight was back behind her desk, filling out the application paperwork. She looked up at Starlight, who sat across from her. “So why didn’t you tell me Gumarg was going to apply for the school?”
Starlight smiled from her chair. “I was going to. That’s why I was heading over here this morning, but you were in the middle of a Twi-Tizzy.”
“Please stop calling it that.” Twilight shook her head. “I’m impressed they made friends with a troll. As far as I know, that hasn’t happened in over six hundred years.”
Starlight nodded. “It’s quite a story. You should ask Rubble about it sometime. But be ready: it certainly doesn’t involve strict application of theory.”
Twilight’s ears drooped, and she looked over to the four ungraded final papers still on her desk. Weakly, she said, “You... could say they were being loyal to each other, or generous with their time…”
“But that’s not all there is to friendship, is there?”
Twilight looked back at her. Starlight looked almost motherly, soft in her expression.
Starlight continued. “The world is different for them than it was for us. Maybe we’ve solved some of their problems for them – there’s no way I’d want Tirek still running around – but they’re going to face new challenges that we’ve never dreamed of, and we won’t always be around to force our solutions on them.”
Twilight looked at her pens, all color-coded, all tied to something that pulled at a different part of her heart. The red one seemed so innocuous now, but without it, she wondered what was left to say. “Those lessons were… important. To Equestria. To my friends. To… me.”
Starlight set a hoof on hers. “They still are. They’re incredibly important, and just because the new generation is going to be different from us, it doesn’t mean that all our experiences and lessons are any less important than they were before. We can cherish our memories and what we’ve learned, and now, it’s our job to give the next group of friends the chance to not just learn from us, but to grow in their own way.”
“I…” Twilight wrinkled her nose and searched for the words. “I don’t want to fail them.”
“I don’t think you have. Seems to me like they’ve learned some new things about friendship. Like...” She nodded to the stack of final papers. “...that it takes cultivation and adventure and shared experience.”
Twilight smiled. She looked at her friend, then back to the papers. “Yeah. You know what, Starlight: you’re right.”
Starlight grinned. “Are you surprised?”
Twilight laughed, and with an easy breath, she picked up her lavender pen.
