Symphony

It was all happening so fast.

The one-round Canterlot Young Musicians' Competition was underway, and as the sixteenth performance went on, the four musicians backstage were sweating bullets.

Octavia Melody, a cellist, had practiced and practiced, but she was still mimicking bow movement above her cello with her forelegs. Beauty Brass was quietly blowing air into her horn, simultaneously trying to relax through exhalation (it didn't seem to be working). Parish Nandermane, who preferred to be known as Harpo, was excercizing his joints above his hooves to prepare himself for playing his violin. Frederic Horshoepin was going through the score in his mind.

The Cappricioso Quartet was very nearly ready for their performance, except one thing was missing. A pep talk.

Seeing that no one else was taking initiative, Frederic grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper from the props table nearest him (Canterlot University had recently done a production of The Diary of a Young Mare) and began writing furiously. His three friends turned to stare at this scritching noise he was producing.

Finally, he completed his speech and showed the paper to the rest of the quartet. It read, in an elegant shorthoof:

Friends, do not work yourselves up over this performance. It has been simply wonderful working with the three of you, both individually and together at once. I dearly hope you realize that.

While we wait, let us not think of everything that could go wrong. Rather, let us envision ourselves performing to the best of our abilities. I feel we have earned those first place medals already, from the hard work we have completed whilst facing this task ahead of us. We may not leave this building satisfied with our performance, but we shall strive to play from our hearts. We will show them what we are!

-Frederic

The musicians beamed at each other. Harpo grabbed the paper for himself and added something of his own. In no time at all, he was finshed writing and displayed his work.

P.S.: Five years into the future, we will look back at this and say that these were the good old days. But these so-called good old days will still be named even that long into the future, I just know it. We will all remember this as a good experience and we will continue to have more just like them, will we not? I hope you are happy with yourselves, because I sure am.

~Harpo

As the performers ahead of them trotted offstage and the Cappricioso Quartet began the trek onstage, their smiles grew even wider.

"Here they are, folks! The Cappricioso Quartet, performing their own Frederic Horseshoepin's 'Quartet No. 8'!"

Anticipative applause greeted the four young musicians as they took the stage. Octavia trotted out first, grasping her bow and cello, followed by Beauty Brass, who had her French horn strapped to her chest with a versatile neckstrap. Next came Harpo, carrying a violin in front of him. Frederic brought up the rear, making a beeline for the piano. Two chairs were set up for the violinist and horn player, while a velvet bench greeted Frederic. Octavia was content to stand.

The members of the quartet glanced at each other knowingly, then Frederic nodded at Beauty Brass, who launched off into a virtuostic passage in E minor. Soon Frederic joined in with a simple accompaniment of eighth notes, while the strings chimed in with slow, expressive chords. Beauty Brass shifted once and paused, letting the strings and piano take over with the piece's main theme. It was introduced quietly, played once before Beauty Brass added a countermelody that harmonized but didn't sound quite identical.

Every once in a while, the piece would stop, and one of the musicians would nod to themselves and begin a cadenza, modulating the piece into a different key. Octavia went first with this idea, playing difficult scales and glissandos that all but dislocated her hooves. Harpo's cadenza got increasingly louder and more ferocious with each note, breaking a sweat on his forehead at the amount of double stops that effortlessly passed his bow. Beauty Brass performed an improvisation on the main theme, with trills and arpeggios that facilitated incredible lip flexibility. Frederic went last, beginning with an F major chord designed to decieve the listener before working up the piano in octaves. When he reached the top note, he performed a rapid arpeggio down and back up, finally coming to rest on a brilliant trill between the two highest notes on the keyboard. The piece paused again, longer than the other pauses, before resuming into a fast-paced coda that ended with a mighty E major chord.

Not a second passed between the last note and the moment when the audience roared in approval. The quartet stood and bowed, then left the stage.