Author's Note

Before we start, I'd like to explain a few musical terms you may not understand:
1.) An interval is the space between two notes, or how many notes they are apart. Firsts, Fourths, Fifths, and Octaves are all Perfects, Augmented, or Diminished (lowered, which usually brings a sadder tone when diminished. Raised when Augmented). Seconds, Thirds, Sixths, and Sevenths are Major or Minor (Sad or lowered).
2.) A crescendo is the steady escalation of volume.
3.) The downbeat is the first beat of a measure (A conductor always drops his hand/baton on the first beat of a measure).

Those were simply for some people who may not be aware of what certain terms mean. I hope you enjoy. ^.^

Orchestra Class

Octavia let out a long, exaggerated sigh as yet again, her maestro called out the trumpet section of the orchestra.

It wouldn’t have been a huge deal if it weren’t the fourth time that day the trumpet “section” had messed up. Yes, there was only one trumpet player. He was a young, rather shy sophomore by the name of Blues. He’d only transferred to the school that year, and his original school’s music program wasn’t exactly…good. He’d been struggling more than anypony else in the class, but also had it the worst because he was the only trumpet player, which meant he had to play out. Although Octavia felt slightly bad for him, there was still no excuse for playing poorly. Being slightly out of tune was one thing. Playing a whole third higher was completely different. His timing was pretty shabby, as well.

“Blues!” their maestro snapped with annoyance in his voice. “You simply must stop coming in early at measure…” His blue eyes scanned his score. “Sixty five. You come in at the and of three, not three.”

The stallion blushed heavily and hid his shame behind the bell on his instrument. The entire, small orchestra knew he was one of the weakest players, and didn’t hesitate to judge him harshly when rehearsal ended.

“Y-yes, sir…” He spoke quietly and reset his trumpet to his lips.

The conductor took in a breath and waved his baton with his violet magic. He gave the downbeat, then beat two, and as always, Blues came in on exactly beat three. His pitch was shrill and harsh to one’s ears. The note rested in between an A and Bb. The conductor sighed and cut the colt off.

“You don’t come in ON three….” He repeated. “The and of three! Again!”

Blues took in a deep breath and kept his yellow eyes glued on the baton. One…Two…Three… He became nervous and didn’t play at all. He simply allowed a fourth beat of pure silence. The conductor grunted in irritation.

“See me after class!”

The colt’s eyes darted towards the floor and he nodded quietly. “Yes, sir…”

“Now….” The conductor continued on. “Back to measure forty-nine. Cellos start.”

The small cello trio set their bows to their strings. Octavia was the section leader, and had been since she was only a freshman. Being musically educated since she was only five did help quite a lot. It would have even been faire to say she was the best player in the orchestra. Even if the orchestra were small, she still played in it as if she were in a symphony. Maybe one day, she would be…

The three cellists kept their eyes glued on the conductor. He gave them four beats of silence before the downbeat. All three bows were pulled, causing a tremendous vibration and glorious tone. The long half note was followed by two short eight notes. The magnificent sound carried throughout the room and made all the ponies stare in envy. Blues, especially. He had envied the other players for so, so long, and Octavia was the greatest example of somepony he could have learned from. She played more majestically than any pony he’d ever seen. Her natural ability to make each note sound like a singing bird warmed his heart. Every stroke of that bow made him fall deeper in love with her grace and beauty.

It wasn’t until the entire orchestra was silenced by the conductor that the hypnotized earth pony returned to Equestria.

“Trumpets!” The conductor yelled, which grasped the colt’s attention. “You didn’t come in yet again! You didn’t even have your trumpet ready! I even cued you!” The maestro angrily glared at his student. “Now, do it again and actually come in this time!”

The embarrassed brass player stared at the tile floor below.

“Yes, sir…”