My memory is something that has begun to fail me in eons past. Time, you see, has a way of going to and fro, as well as fro and to. You'll find that after countless years, yesterday will look a lot like today. And tomorrow will look a lot like yesterday. No moment is more reminiscent of the past than the now, as my usual quiet peace has been broken by the lonesome cries of a young pony who has stumbled his way into my grotto, a hidden little meadow with a large pond at its center and surrounded by the dense growth of a naturally growing forest.
This small colt is anxious about his future, and worried about his present. His name is Pipsqueak, and although this is the first time he has ever approached me, in him I see the familiar heart of someone so like him. With similar trials in life and all the same worries. Even all alone like this, his cries are quiet and faint in trying to keep any soul from seeing his weakness. He is desperate to prove himself. To grow into a respectable stallion worthy of admiration. But above that, he wishes for the strength to be bigger than himself. Strong enough to use that strength in the service of others without fear. For he has a deep and heartfelt desire to be a hero.
But in his small stature and weakness, he feels helpless to change himself in that way. His silent tears agitate the stillness of the pool within the center of my abode.
"Tell me, what has you so down, child?" I ask thee. Confused at first as so many before him are, he looks all around perplexed and afraid of my voice. To him, it feels like it has come from nowhere. But I have always existed in this space before him, as I will continue to exist until the limitless Time itself runs out. I shake the earth he stands on just enough to send waves through the pond so that he knows me to be real.
"Are you a ghost?" He replies while drying his eyes, a bit scared but with his curiosity at its peak.
"I am not, no, but I am magical in nature. And I can see the troubles brewing in your heart, little one. So then, what ails you so?"
"Oh. You saw that? It's just..." In truth, I had only guessed at his troubles before. But his woes are the same as the boy he reminds me of from so long ago. "I could ignore the teasing and name-calling due to my size. It bothers me, but I don't really care about it. What really hurts... I guess because I'm so small, I can't help anyone from my new hometown. So many crazy things happen to every pony, and I'm never able to do anything about it. I've tried so hard, yet no one trusts me to try to help in any way. I don't even trust myself. I'm too scared. Too weak. Too small..."
I say to him, "There's nothing wrong with being small."
"I know. All the grown-ups tell me so. But I just don't see it. Because of my size, I'm never chosen for any teams at my school. I'm always picked on because of it. And I can't ever seem to save anyone like I want to no matter how hard I try. I wish I were a big strong hero." He says.
"Would you be surprised to know that the little things of this world are almost always the most important?"
"What? Really?" He is incredulous, as was his counterpart from millennia past. Both blind to the obvious.
"Really. Take the ants beneath your hooves for example." He scans the ground at this statement in order to see a trail of them carrying pieces of food back to their nest. "They work hard every day, all in order to continue to live. They might seem insignificant to you since they are so small, but their kind is integral to the careful balance of this forest. Not just this forest, but to all of Equestria and the world over. Even without any magic, their lives sustain the harmony of this world. They save it just by existing."
"Wow... I didn't know that!" He exclaims with a newfound respect for the tiny things of this world. Yet I can still feel the downtroddenness in his heart. "But I'm not an ant..." Just as quickly as his mood had improved, so too had it plummeted.
"There are so many things much smaller than you, young Pipsqueak. All of them equally important to this world. All of them trying to be braver and stronger and better than they were yesterday. So keep heart, little one. If they can do it, so can you."
"I can. And I will." He lightens up at these words and sniffs his troubles away while wiping his running nose. "You know my name?" He asks now focused and confused on a separate matter.
"Of course I do. You live in Ponyville, do you not?"
"Yeah, I do! I moved in not too long ago. How do you know? Are you psychic?"
"Not quite. I am very, very large you see. Bigger than a mountain. A part of me exists all the way over in your town. A part of me exists right here, speaking to you. I can see and hear wherever I currently am. And I witnessed your arrival onto that little hamlet many moons ago."
"Oh..." His mood seemed to decline at this. "So you're really big... But why can't I see you?"
"I don't always keep all of me in one place. Right now, the part of me speaking to you is actually smaller than you. In fact, when I was your age. I used to be way way smaller than you were. Smaller than even the smallest things. An ant, to an ant."
"Really?!" There it was, his usual pep. "Wait, so where are you? Are you small right now? Can I even see you if you're so tiny?"
"Right now, I'm not small enough to be invisible to the eye. In fact, you can see me right in front of you." He looked ahead and found nothing. He looked to his sides and found nothing. And nothing behind him either. "Look in front of you Pipsqueak. Right below you." He looked down towards his hooves, and there I was.
"Huh? You're... a rock?"
"Are you surprised?"
"A little. I didn't know rocks could talk." He bumped me lightly with one hoof. "I mean, I heard that Pinkie Pie's sister kept a pet rock, but I didn't think it could talk. The grown-ups always said she was a bit weird that way."
"One can seem a little crazy when the other can't understand. So, back to what we were talking about, young one. Help me understand. When did these troubles start for you?"
"I've been feeling down ever since I heard there was big trouble in Canterlot during Princess Cadenza's wedding. It got me thinking about if that trouble visited here, I don't think I could do anything about it... I'm not strong enough to protect anyone."
"Ah yes. I remember waking up around that time. It's been less than a week since then, Pip. Has it been eating away at you since?" He nodded sadly. "Hmm. Being afraid, being weak, and being small. You know, you remind me a lot of another young pony I once spoke to long, long ago. So long, I've forgotten his name. But even down to the spots on his coat, he was just the same as you. He eventually got over all of those things."
"Some pony like me? How did he do it?!" He jumped.
"Would you like to hear his story?" He nodded eagerly at this. "Very well. Let's see..."
This story happens at a much earlier time. A turbid time, full of perils and dangers and new advents. The breathing creatures of this world are in the beginnings of discovering magic, and powerful wielders of it are starting to appear. Their emotions and willpower are physically manifesting new artifacts every day, and one such creature has created a peculiar tool meant for destruction and protection alike. It is a metal blade attached to a hilt, like most in this warring age have. But this particular sword is imbued with magic.
A lot of magic.
How much magic? Enough to level even the highest mountain peaks. Understandably, this individual is afraid. Purposefully or accidentally, he has created a weapon unlike any other. He does not have the heart to use it for his own gains, and he is conflicted about who should wield it. He speaks to me for the first time when he is but an old, old stallion. The tired sagging of his eyes and translucent grey of his hairs shows that he doesn't have much time left, like most of his short-lived kind. He tells me he has been on a long and personal quest to find someone worthy to hold it.
A quest met with failure.
He asks me what the right thing to do with the sword is. Should he destroy it? Should he trust in the peoples of his age and pass it down to his King and Queen? Or should he hide it away so that only those of true heart can eventually stumble upon it, no matter how long that might take?
He convinces himself with his own questions and asks a promise of me. To hide away this sword in a place where only the bravest and truest of hearts would dare to enter. And so I did, deep within this very forest we're in.
He embedded the sword onto my body with another powerful magic in order to keep it from being moved even an inch by those that would prove unworthy, as an extra measure to keep it from the wrong hooves. Then, he departed to spread news of it far and wide to any of those who could bring themselves to hold it.
I never heard from him again from then on. In the end, he never gave a name to the sword.
Over the years, a few ponies and creatures from across all walks of life visited in search of the now legendary sword. They tried and failed in vain to pull it from me. Some big, some small. But all of them had one thing in common. What was that one thing? Well it was that they were all, at least in my eyes, worthy. They were all looking to be real heroes. Some came with wishes of fame, but vanity did not disqualify their honest desire to save others. Some just wished to be respected by their peers, and they would do so by becoming brave heroes worthy of respect. And some just wished to be better than who they were the day before, feeling as though they were inadequate and needed the sword to validate them and to give them the strength to be the heroes they wanted to be.
But none were able to pull it.
Then came along a small colt, the boy I've told you about. He was smaller than anyone who had ever sought the sword. He had spots, much like you. An unruly mane, much like yours. And he had accidentally stumbled upon the sword in this forest hundreds of years after legends of it had vanished, again a bit like yourself. But even if he didn't know the legends of its strength or the magical power that lay within the sword, he could sense it. He knew it to be his answer to all the troubles in his heart. For this young colt was the boy with the deepest of desires and the biggest of dreams. He was desperate to be respected. He wanted anything to prove he was worthy. And in his heart, he wished to be able to save everyone who ever needed help. To be the best and brightest hero. To be a legend to his people.
And so started his long, long ordeal with the sword.
No matter how much I tried to disway him initially to give up on his aim, he never did. Every single day he would try to pull the sword. Nothing could stop him from trying to take it for himself, all in order to gain the power necessary to be a hero like he dreamed of.
He trained day and night, working on his natural strength believing that to be all that the sword required despite me constantly telling him that brute force would not be enough to budge it. He worked on his reflexes by creating all sorts of inventive traps and dummies he could test his mettle against, even going so far as to seek out dangerous foes in order to put his skills to the test, despite all that I warned on it being useless to convince the sword. Finally, he took my words to heart. In jest, I told him that simple might and skill would do nothing to change the mind of that fussy sword, and only that by proving that his heart was in the right place, the sword would accept him as worthy.
He proceeded to go out and do great deeds and save ponies the world over, all so that he could try to be the true wielder of such a weapon.
After so long, I could no longer bear to keep discouraging him from his course. Eventually, even I had a change of heart in seeing his truly honest efforts, and so I too began to cheer him on. I spurred on his dreams, and as a result, he began to train harder than ever since he believed that I had been the sword's unwillingness to give itself up.
For a moment, he felt like he had finally made some progress.
And yet... That couldn't have been further from the truth.
He was now so much older than the tiny young colt that had begun that grueling endeavor to try to pull it. He was at the peak of his life. At the pinnacle of his body's capabilities considering his age. And he had trained tirelessly every day so none could rival the sheer effort and willpower that had gone into his goals. But... everyone has a breaking point. It didn't matter if he was at his prime, his efforts to take the sword for himself had been all in vain as it had not moved even a singular inch in all those many long years. His spirit was broken, and he finally swore to abandon this impossible trial.
He left the sword sitting where it always had in that quiet little grotto of trees near a budding new pond that had begun to form near my stone body.
But was it just my imagination...? Or did the sword look like it was leaning a little to the left from then on? Well, who knows. It's all in the past. In the end, the sword faded quietly from history.
"So, did you learn anything about this story, young one?"
"He never managed to pull the sword..." Pipsqueak felt a little heartbroken for his ancestor and was now feeling like his own efforts would always be in vain too.
"Ah, but do you not see it for yourself? The moral of this story." He craned his neck with a puzzled look for a while until it finally dawned on him.
"By putting so much effort into trying to take the sword, he eventually became a real hero even without the sword's powers!"
"There you go. In fact, he wasn't just any old hero either. After he stopped his quest to redeem the sword, he became the greatest Hero to ever live and his heroics were essential and formative for an ailing Equestria all that time ago. For without him, the three pony races would've doomed these lands to the hatred that called forth the Windigos. It was his tried and true strength, bravery, and wisdom that helped everyone see reason during a pivotal moment in the founding of these lands."
"You don't mean... Pint-size the Brave, do you?!" The young boy nearly fell over from his excitement after having connected all the puzzle pieces for himself.
"That name does sound familiar..."
"Wow, that's amazing! I can't believe someone so like me accomplished so much! I loved reading all about him in my history books!" For a good long while, young Pipsqueak could not contain himself and imagined that he was Pint-size. He re-enacted his many different battles against treacherous foes and monsters. He recited many of the laconic and powerful speeches he gave throughout the kingdoms. And he posed in the very same pose that was captured in all of his history books and statues that still existed to this day of him. Then, he had a thought and stopped. "Wait, but, whatever happened to the sword?" Young Pipsqueak asked.
"You're wondering about that old thing?" I shake the earth ever so slightly in order to make ripples around the large pond again. "That small little pool eventually grew big enough to swallow it whole."
"Oh..." He looked into the pool, wishing he had been the one to try to pull it and succeed. "It's a shame no one ever gave it a name. All the cool swords of legend have names."
"Well, since its original creator never gave it one, I eventually decided to name it. I tried to come up with a good name for the kind of effect the sword seemed to have."
"Oh oh! What is it?"
"I call it... Heromaker. Since everyone who ever tried to take it for themselves eventually ended up becoming heroes of their own right."
"Aww, I wish I could have tried to pull it... Hey Mr. Rock. Do you think if we drain the pond, I can try to pull it then?"
"Ah, I'm sorry Pipsqueak. I truly am. But the sword is no longer there."
"Someone actually pulled it?"
"No, no one ever did. You see, the metals in the sword have since rusted into nothing within those waters." The young colt's heart seemed to sink into the pond as he stared at his own reflection atop it, and then cheered up immensely at my next words. "But its magic still exists, making heroes and heroines ‘till this day.”
.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading! This author's note is just to share something extra. The completed cover art tends to obfuscate the design of adult and colt Pint-size, so I wanted to share his appearance here to give people a more visible image of his features since Dama and I had a blast brainstorming his design and it'd be a real shame if it was hidden for the most part. You should take a look! Does it give you legendary hero vibes?
Also, the cover art is cropped due to too large an image size and also me wanting to focus the snapshot thumbnail on the most important parts, so if you want to see the full thing in all its glory, you can head over to my blog where I discussed it!
