Beethoven's Tenth

Chapters

Chapter 2: The Pegasus in the Woods in A Major
Chapter 4: Priorities in F # Major
Chapter 5: Moving in D b Major
Chapter 6: Welcome to Ponyville in A b Major.
Chapter 7: Pathetique in C minor
Chapter 8: Inspiration in B b Major.
Chapter 9: The Piano Teacher in D minor
Chapter 10: Musical Critique in A minor
Chapter 11: The Canterlot Philharmonic in G Major
Chapter 12: A Quiet Encounter in D Major
Chapter 13: First Symphonic Impressions in A Major
Chapter 14: New Expectations and Experiences in C # minor
Chapter 15: The New Neighbor in B Major
Chapter 16: Complaints in D # minor
Chapter 17: Eroica in B b minor
Chapter 18: Beethoven’s Nightmare in F minor
Chapter 19: Corrections in E b Major
Chapter 20: Svengallop in G minor
Chapter 21: The Visit in D minor
Chapter 23: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 1)
Chapter 24: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 2)
Chapter 26: Friendship of a Dragon in A Major.
Chapter 27: Nightmare Night Allegro in C # minor
Chapter 28: The Piano in Appaloosa in B Major.
Chapter 29: The Revolution Symphony in D # minor.
Chapter 30: Little Strongheart in B b minor.
Chapter 32: Meine Unsterbliche Geliebte in E b Major.
Chapter 33: The Thanksgiving Hymn in G minor.
Chapter 34: Visiting Hours in F Major.
Chapter 35: Shadow in the Snowflakes in A minor.
Chapter 36: Beethoven’s Silence in E minor.
Chapter 37: The Forgotten Birthday in D Major.
Chapter 38: Hearths Warming Eve in A Major.
Chapter 39: Hearths Warming Day in E Major. (Part 1)
Chapter 40: Hearths Warming Day in E Major. (Part 2)
Chapter 41: New Year in C # minor
Chapter 42: Forgotten Folklore in G # minor.
Chapter 43: Violin Audition in F # Major.
Chapter 44: The Baltimare Concert in B b minor (Part 1).
Chapter 45: The Baltimare Concert in B b minor (Part 2).
Chapter 46: The Great “Riot” Fugue in F minor.
Chapter 47: Moving on in E b Major.
Chapter 48: Missa Solemnis (Part 1) in B b Major.
Chapter 49: Missa Solemnis (Part 2) in B b Major.
Chapter 50: Clarification in D minor.
Chapter 51: Reflections in A minor.
Chapter 53: The Crystal Concert in D Major (Part 1).
Chapter 54: The Crystal Concert in D Major (Part 2).
Chapter 55: Baroque or Bust in A Major.
Chapter 56: The Calling in C # minor.
Chapter 57: The Great Healing Symphony in B Major.
Chapter 58: One Last Time in F # Major.
Chapter 59: The Farewell Concert in B b minor.
Chapter 60: Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Beethoven in F minor.
Chapter 61: Finale in C minor.
Music Guide
Chapter 1: Overture in B minor
Chapter 3: Music of the Deaf in C # minor.
Chapter 22: The Master and the Pianist in A minor
Chapter 25: The Cold Presto in D Major.
Chapter 31: The Flight to Ponyville in F minor
Chapter 52: Horseshoe’s Visit in G Major.

Chapter 2: The Pegasus in the Woods in A Major

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Chapter 4: Priorities in F # Major

“Are you sure you don’t know where Vienna is?” Ludwig questioned. He was sitting down at one of the library’s largest desks with the two ponies plus a dragon on the other side with a stack of parchment and a pen ready. The three of them looked at one another with confused looks until the purple one called Twilight picked up the quill and wrote to him her message.

I have studied geography since I was seven, and I have never heard of a place called Vienna before. Could you explain how you got here Mr. Beethoven?

Downing some of the cup of coffee (in which he counted the beans to be grounded up himself) he explained, “I don’t know myself. One day, I was thinking up melodies for a string quartet in the countryside, and the next I’m in a place of a child’s fantasy gone mad.”

“This guy has no filter, doesn’t he?” Rainbow Dash asked her friends.

“Still,” the giant said, refilling his glass, “it was rather odd. The night before, I was caught in a storm that came out of nowhere, so I headed back to my excuse of an apartment. I jotted down some notes as usual when I noticed that suddenly everything went dark. At first, I thought night came already, except when I looked out the window, there was nothing. No light anywhere except for the candle that lit the room. But I turned around; I found a shadow without a body.”

Spike took the pen to write his own message.

That’s creepy.

“It was something like out of a nightmare,” Beethoven commented. “Very thin, very tall, but it had two white eyes that I think never once blinked. Of course, I asked what it wanted and… I don’t know how it knew that I was deaf, but he took up my conversation book and wrote to me. Saying that it came to commissioned me to write a new symphony, that I have a year to complete, which is ridiculous. I mean sure, I could write it up in about a week, but that thing doesn’t know that I demand perfection from it! To make things even worst, he took my room with me and everything in it to… wherever this place is to hold me ransom. Saying that if I don’t have the score in a year’s time, I will never go back home.”

Twilight leaned back, “That… is really curious,” she said.

“Do you know any creatures that are made of shadows Twilight?” her assistant asked.

“Except for Nightmare Moon and Sombra, I don’t think so,” the violet Alicorn scratched her head. “Besides, what he described doesn’t really fit with any other shadow creature that I know. But just to be sure…”

Taking up the pen again, the lilac princess wrote to him:

So was this shadow solid or was it mist like?

“I don’t know what you mean by mist like,” the old man said. “The thing was flat up against the wall, much like our shadows are now. But its arm did become solid when it picked up my book, yet stayed up against the wall.”

Twilight sighed, “Well that throws Nightmare and Sombra out.” Then another thought came to her as she wrote:

So you came alone?

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Ludwig told her. “As far as I know, I might be the only human for miles away.”

If that is true, then you might be the first human in Equestrian history to see the likes of you. In my opinion, this is very exciting! Plus, you said that you’re a composer?

With a chuckle, Beethoven answered, “Yes, as perplexing as it is to you, I compose music. I’ve been doing this even before I went deaf. Come to think of it, the room I was taken in still has all of my music in the forest over there. From my piano pieces to all nine of my symphonies, even a few books from Bach’s fugues are in this world now.”

Twilight straighten up at the mentioning at this detail.

And how far away is this room?

"It took me most of the morning to get here on foot. Since this is the only town within miles, I would really hate it to walk so far and back every day. I wish that it was nearer."

After telling the old man to wait for them for a second, the three of them went upstairs. Beethoven turned his attention to the paper and quills left behind, now that a new melody was taking a casual stroll through his head.

Once upstairs, Twilight turned to her friend and said, “Rainbow Dash, do you have any idea what this means?”

“That the crazy deaf guy has his music with him?” the pegasus raised an eyebrow.

“No, this means that we have a very rare and unique opportunity!” she squeed. “I mean, think about it, we’re literally standing on top of a goldmine of information – not just in music, but we have an intelligent, sentient creature from a different world, culture, and history that is completely unknown to us!”

“Are you sure about the cultural part?” Spike questioned, and Twilight asked what he meant. “Was it me, or did he mispronounced Buch? He said that he has a couple books on Bach and not Buch. Did you notice that?”

Rainbow thought hard on it, “Wait a sec, yeah he’s right! I think he did mispronounce that guy’s name. If that’s true, then maybe he was just simply teleported from somewhere in the world.”

“But what does that prove?” Twilight questioned. “For all we know, Bach could be completely different from Buch. Just because they have similar sounding names, doesn’t mean they’re the same pony. But we’re getting off topic, the giant has written music with him. Music that’s completely unknown to Equestria.”

“Well yeah,” Rainbow sat down on her haunches. “So the guy writes music, so what? What are we going to do with him? He says that he can’t go anywhere for a full year, what else is he supposed to do other the writing? Not only that, but we don’t know what the guy eats or drinks (other than coffee), where he’s going to sleep, or what he’s gonna be doing while he’s here.”

“Rainbow does have point Twilight,” Spike commented. “We don’t really know much about this guy, and the fact that he’s huge! He’s nearly as tall as Celestia, and he’s gonna be cramped if he goes inside one of the houses in town. Heck, I don’t think the hotel on the other side of town has a room big enough to fit him in.”

“As much as I don’t want to admit this, but you’re right.” She turned towards a window to look out of. “We’d need to focus on priorities first, as exciting as it is to have an alien creature from a different world that is a composer, how are we going to take care of him?”

The three of them thought for a moment before the baby dragon suggested, “What about Applejack’s barn? I mean, just until we’ve found a proper place for him to sleep in, he could probably crash there until we find something better. Or maybe we should tell Celestia about him and see if she would have any ideas on where to keep him.”

“Or why not do both,” Twilight asked. “That would make the most logical sense; have him reside at Sweet Apple Acres until Celestia could find him a better place. Rainbow, could you go find Applejack and ask her if she could spare the barn to let Mr. Beethoven reside in until we get this sorted out. Oh! While you’re at it, could you also go get Fluttershy to make a checkup with him to make sure that he isn’t sick with anything?”

“Fair enough,” Rainbow got up and headed towards the window. “But should I also tell them that the guy can’t hear?”

“It would give them an expectation,” she said before watching her best friend fly out the window. “Okay Spike, I’m gonna need you to send a letter to Princess Celestia, but after that, I’m gonna need you to run some errands.”

“Sure, but what do you have in mind?”

“Well, since Mr. Beethoven wears clothes, I think we need to get Rarity to come and try to make some more clothing for him to wear for the coming year. Also, I need you to round up some volunteers in moving his things to the barn so I guess you’ll need Pinkie’s help with that.”

“Got it, but would Pinkie throw him a welcoming party for him? You know, him being new and all?”

“You can tell her that she can throw one later after we help move his music to a more suitable location. Once we get him settled down, then we can worry about sharing his music to all of Equestria.”

“Understandable,” Spike went over to a desk and took out a quill and paper. “So what are we going to tell Celestia?”

“Leave that to me,” she began, “Dear Princess Celestia…”

_*_

Downstairs in Ludwig’s head, a bagatelle was playing in his head. His imagination was in the key of F minor as he sketched out his worry. This place, this Equestria really was everything that the shadow had promised him. He was now somewhere where creatures of myth existed, where Vienna, Europe, human and Beethoven are unknown words to them. And given the fact that he may spend a year far away from human contact, including his friends, and his nephew Karl, made him truly alone.

The piano sketch slowly danced between the eighths, sixteenth and half notes in a rhythm that expressed his concern of ever seeing home again. In a way, he felt helpless once again, as if fate was taking him another step in making him more isolated from his fellow men. It’s a feeling that he hates aside from the daily humiliation of his hearing loss.

“Mr. Beethoven?”

In a way, he hadn’t felt this alone since the days he was in Heiligenstadt twenty-three years ago, that he hoped the quiet fresh air would sooth the ringing in his ears. Though the bars and dots of the notes, he could almost hear the stillness of that day in October. Those thoughts when he mentally felt like the last man on earth.

“Mr. Beethoven?”

But here was different, first his hearing isolated him from the voices of his friends, his family, his piano, his city and his army of musicians. Now, however, he was in an alien world where little is familiar to him. The world it seems has been long taken over by equines while man is nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me,” he was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts when he felt a tug on his coattails.

“What!” he quickly turned around to find the lilac pony there, her wings spread open. She held up a message for him.

I’m sorry to bother you, but I think you should know that I’ve been making arrangements to find you a place to stay. At the moment, we’ve come to an agreement that since you so much taller than a normal pony that you should stay at the barn of one of my friends until we find a more suitable place for you.

“A barn,” Ludwig questioned. “I’m going to be sleeping in a barn?”

Twilight jot down her response:

It’s only temporary sir. I’ve just written to a fellow princess that’s higher up from me to find someplace that accommodates to your size. But in the meantime, we’re organizing some volunteers to help you move whatever was in your apartment to the barn. Also, I’ve just asked a friend of mine that’s a seamstress to take your measurements for clothes you’ll be needing and another friend to make sure that you’re not sick if that’s alright with you.

Beethoven looked between the levitated note and the pony holding it in place, “Why are you doing this? I just arrived out of nowhere for you creatures, and now you’re taking care of me?”

Because I’m curious about you, and that I want to get to know you and your kind better. So if you can come with me and show us where your apartment is, can you tell me about yourself and your music?

Ludwig got up, stuffing the bagatelle into his pocket. “Since I have the only key to the room, I might as well.”

Chapter 5: Moving in D b Major

Author's Note

I don't know how good it is but... here you go.

Chapter 5: Moving in D b Major

Breaking off a branch from a tree and using that as an impromptu walking stick, Ludwig leads the pony known as Twilight along with a crowd of curious ponies behind them. A few of them brought carts while others had baskets or light brown boxes on their backs. The lilac Alicorn, meanwhile, had a stack of scratch paper ready to communicate.

The moving party was following the giant into the Whitetail Woods, listening to the deaf man’s ramblings.

“So where was I?”

Twilight handed him a note.

You were going to talk about who you are.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “As I’ve said before, my full name is Ludwig van Beethoven. I was born in the year of our Lord, seventeen-hundred-and-seventy in the cold month of December. The place I was born into is in a little town called Bonn. My father was Johann, who married my mother who was Maria, while I was the eldest of six children, and most talented too.

“When I was a very little boy, my father was the first to teach me the piano. I think I might have been… oh… four, probably five years when he started teaching me. And believe me, I was good at it. Well… maybe not always. To this day I can still remember that if he was sober, that even if I played something flawlessly, he would say, ‘It’s still not good enough Ludwig.’” Here he shook his head, “In fact, the only time I remember him giving praises to me was when he was drunk. That he would come home in the middle of the night with a friend of his; drag me out of bed saying, ‘Get up! Play something beautiful for us!’ So I would play all night until dawn. But in the first few minutes of improvising, he would turn to his other drunken friend to say, ‘You see! It is beautiful! I tell you, my lovely boy is the next Mozart. You see! Just listen to that! Genius!’ Huh?”

He felt a tug on his sleeve to find Twilight passing a note to him.

That’s awful! Didn’t your mother help you at all?

He laughed, “Mother? As much as she thought it was wrong, bless her soul, we knew that she couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t blame her too much for it, father was a tyrant growing up. He would strike fear in all of us.

“But that’s not important. As years went by, I picked up a by a few other teachers that taught me more than piano. I’ve learned how to play the violin, the organ, and I’ve taught myself to play the viola when I was appointed as a court musician. I’ve learned how to compose music for the piano too so that I didn’t have to follow the boring instruction books or someone else’s work.

“You might say that father had gotten me so obsessed with music, that when I was very young, my father had made me drop out of school altogether.”

Another, more frantic tug got his attention, following with a note.

He made you drop out of school!!!

“When your father, the breadwinner, is the one who’s getting drunk every night, I’d say that you too would have to focus more on your family to protect then learning math. So yes, I took up jobs, even my father’s, just to keep the Beethoven family afloat. Besides, I was never good with addition or subtraction anyway.

“But as I was saying, when father couldn’t provide for us, I had to step in since I’m the eldest. And believe me; I worked hard in what I do best. I gave concerts, giving piano lessons, and was at one point an organist for our church. Eventually, my efforts were rewarded when I was invited to go study in Vienna, city of musicians. Home to Herr Haydn, Salieri, and Mozart,” Here he laughed to himself from his nostalgia, “Actually, I played for him once.”

Twilight wrote down one word.

Who?

“Herr Mozart, when he was alive.”

Twilight was stunned; even the moving party did a double take. She trotted in front of him, waving to stop.

“What?” he questioned as the librarian quickly wrote down her message.

Moztrot? You’ve actually played for Moztrot? As in the same one who had started writing his music when he was four; who wrote “A Little Night Music;" along with the “Magic Flute,” that Moztrot?

“No, not Moztrot, Mozart, and yes, the very same man, but I fail to understand why you seem so surprised about this fact.”

That’s because the Moztrot that we know has been dead for over two hundred years! How can you know him if he died centuries ago?

“Wait a minute,” Beethoven said, “I thought you said you never heard of Europe before.”

There isn’t.

“Well, how do you who Mozart was?” Then a thought came to him, “But have you heard of Bach?” She nodded, “Or Herr Haydn?” Again she nodded. “Or what about… ah, who’s that popular composer again? Rossini?”

But here, she gave a confused look.

“I take that as a no (lucky for you ponies). Still, at least it’s relieving that you know of Bach, Mozart, and Haydn.” Then he paused, “But there’s never been a Beethoven in this world, has there in the score of two hundred years?”

She shook her head, but her horn glowed as she wrote her note to him.

Perhaps we ought to compare musical history together since there are some clear similarities between ours and yours.

“Agreed, but for now, you ponies are moving my things, yes? Well, talk about it later on.”

Several minutes of walking later, they came across the room in the middle of the forest. Ludwig took out the key out from his pocket to unlock the door. When it opened, he couldn’t hear the horrified gasps behind him as he stepped in.

“Holy Celestia!”

“Uh… Shouldn’t we go in with hazard suits on?”

“What happened to the piano?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Whoa, and here I thought my room was messy!”

“Look at all of this garbage.”

Ludwig turned around, “Well, are you going to just stand there! Get everything out!”

The volunteers looked over to Princess Twilight. “Okay, I’ll go in first,” she said as she stepped inside with the other ponies following close by.

“Sweet Luna, look at the state of this place.”

“It reeks!”

“Where do we start?”

“Look over there; I think something’s growing on that plate.”

“Ew, I think I’ve stepped in something nasty!”

Twilight turned around, “Okay everypony, I think what we need to do is to take everything inside this room out and organize whatever we find into groups. We’ll start with the paper and work our way from there.”

Hesitantly, the citizens of Ponyville began taking whatever they could get their hooves on the outside. Stacking piles of scribbled paper and books outside while doing their best to avoid touching the sickening mold, fungus and bug-ridden items in the room. While the others outside tried their best to separate those that looked like writing, music script or garbage into piles.

Beethoven stepped outside, inspecting the piles that had ink or pencil markings on it. He looked, in particular, in the piles where the garbage was being placed, “Ach! What’s this!” He pulled out some paper that he remembered has worked on the night before, turning to the stallion with the three horseshoes on his flank. “You! Why did you put this quartet in the garbage?”

The yellow stallion backed away, “Hey, I’m sorry, they all look the-”

“Face me first,” Ludwig commanded, “Then talk.”

He gulped, “Sorry, I couldn’t read it, so I thought it was garbage.”

Beethoven stepped forward, “The next time you see these lines,” he pointed to the staffs on the paper. “Do not throw them away!” he tossed it in the stallion's face, “Got it!”

He nodded timidly before the giant returned to the pile.

Meanwhile inside the cramped room, Twilight was searching to see if there were any books in the room. And there under the bed, buried underneath a pile of scores was the first bounded up tome she found. She opened it up to the first page: “Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92 by Ludwig van Beethoven.” To her delight as she flipped through the score to find that it was already printed.

“I think I’ve found something,” she looked over to where a charcoal black pegasus with a white mane pulled out a book with his mouth. Twilight levitated it over and opened it to the title page, “Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-Flat Major, Op. 73.” Again, the score was printed.

“Everypony,” she announced, “If you find any scores like these, please be sure to be careful when moving them. Put these in a separate box.”

“Princess Twilight,” the mare with the red mane and cream coat said as she too picked up a similar book. “I thought you said that the… giant out there was deaf.”

“He is… Rose Luck, was it?”

“It is,” she opened up the book that she read aloud, “‘Symphony No. 5 in C minor.’ How is he able to write all of this if he can’t hear it?”

Twilight too grabbed the manuscript, “I’m not sure, but for one thing, I don’t think he was born deaf.”

“How do you know?” the charcoal pegasus next to Rose asked.

“Because on the way here, he said that he remembers his father talking to him – meaning that he might not have always been unable to hear; but at any rate, let’s just focus on moving his things out.”

Beneath the filthy clothing, the mountains of scrap paper, dirty dishes, and underneath the furniture, the ponies found such books. Before they got to the heavy, and most disgusting stuff, they found bounded up books of nine symphonies; violin and piano concertos; dozens of sonatas; an opera; something called the “Missa Solemnis,” and a “Cantata,” written in a language nopony could understand; string quartets; and thousands of sketches both barely readable and unreadable. They’ve also found scores that didn’t have Beethoven’s name, but these were few as they were by other composers with names like Bach and Mozart. Even rarer still, they found newspapers, fliers, and a few books written in a language that nopony could decipher.

Eventually, when the buckets of water and the chamber pot was removed and dumped a ways away from the moving site, all that was left to move was the bed and the legless piano. Twilight helped, of course, to help lift the incredibly heavy wooden out of tune piano off the ground to be flipped on its side so that the stallions could push it out the door. She repeated this with the wooden bedframe as well as it was the last thing to be taken out.

Outside, ponies loaded the heavier stuff into the carts like the piano and the bed frame before they piled on the books, paper, candles, inkwells, dishes and silverware that were weeping of being scraped, clothing and sheets that needed to be washed, a violin, viola, candelabra, matches, wine bottles, dripping glasses, were carefully set in or balanced on the backs of ponies. Twilight found Beethoven taking hold of the boxes into the cart. When she approached him, he asked her an odd question.

“What are these boxes made out of? They’re so light and strong.”

She wrote down her answer.

It’s called cardboard.

“Cardboard? Isn’t it a type of hard paper,” he asked. “I’ve read of someone inventing it a few years back, but it looks nothing like it. Is it new?”

I don’t think so; it’s been around for awhile now.

Ludwig placed the box into the cart, “First ponies that speak and write English, and now cardboard. Next, you’ll be telling me that you’ve figured out how to make the steam engine that is safe enough for travel with.”

Twilight was about to write a reply but quickly decided that if she continued to carry on a conversation like this, it will take up all day. She instead wrote something else.

I think we’ve got everything out of your apartment, and by the looks of things, we’re ready to head off to my friend’s farm.

“Good, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can work.”

Once everyone was set to leave, Ludwig took the key out of his pocket to lock the empty room behind him.

Chapter 6: Welcome to Ponyville in A b Major.

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 7: Pathetique in C minor

As Celestia carefully guide the sundown towards the horizon, the Apple family was preparing for dinner. The eldest of the clan, Granny Smith, was looking out the back door of the house towards the storage barn. “Y’all sure that giant hadn’t come out since this afternoon?”

The red stallion, who was setting the table, only said, “Eeynope,” before placing the plates down.

“Ah don’t think he’d ever stepped out once,” Applejack commented, checking the strudel to make sure it wasn’t burnt. “Heck, Ah don’t know what’s he been doin’. Except that sometimes he’s been either singin’ or hummin’ real loud like, other times Ah heard water swooshin’, but a few hours ago, Ah heard him banging away at that piano.”

“He’s a mighty strange one, Ah’ll give ya that,” Granny returned to the stove. “And Y'all are sure he’s safe?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t do no harm to anypony,” Applejack said, looking at the clock. “Wonder were Applebl-”

“Ah’m home!” The three of them heard the front door open, quickly followed by a slam.

“In here,” Applejack called out, “Dinner’s about ready.” In came the youngest Apple in the family, a yellow pony with a red mane tied up in a bow. “Where’ve ya been this time?”

“Crusadin’,” she replied. “We were at that new art studio because Sweetie Belle had the idea of Cutie Mark Crusader’s Sculptors.”

“How’d that go?” Big Mac asked as he was getting out the glasses.

“Well… let’s just say that Mr. Clay doesn’t want us there no more.” She jumped into her seat, “So what’s fer dinner?”

“Befor’ we get inta that,” the orange mare said looking over her shoulder. “Have ya heard that we have a guest that’s in the barn?”

Applebloom shook her head, “Not really, but Ah did hear this rumor of a giant that’s in town.”

“Actually dearie,” Granny said as she scooped up some of the strudels. “That’s our guest that’s sleepin’ in the storage barn.”

“Really?” the youngest Apple blinked. “We have a giant in the barn?” She then leaned over, “So is that why Y'all are makin’ so much food?”

“Some fer us,” the elder pony balanced a tray on her back, “And the other’s fer our guest.”

Then, Applebloom got an idea, “Can Ah take it to ‘em? Ah haven’t gotten the chance ta see ‘em.”

“You sure sugarcube?” her older sister asked and she nodded. “Well, Ah guess so. But if ya gonna do it, then Ah think ya should know a little somethin’ about him.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, the giant can’t hear.” Applejack explained, “In fact, the only way we can communicate is if you write it down to him. So as long as the door is unlocked, ya can just walk right with without knockin’.”

“Um… okay?” she got out of her seat and with the help of her older sister, had the tray of apple strudel balancing on her back. Before she could reach the back door, she asked, “Hold on, is he there?”

“The fella hasn’t gone anywhere,” Granny said. “Or at least, as far as we know. So you jus’ hurry along dearie so that we can all eat.”

With her big brother opening the door for her, little Applebloom walked towards the storage barn, wondering what this giant looks like. “Well the guy can’t be too big,” she said to herself. “If he can fit in the barn, maybe he’s jus’ unusually tall for a pony.”

But as she got closer to the large doors, her ears picked up a very unusual sound. For a moment, it confused her since not only did she know that her family doesn’t own a piano, but also that her sister said that the giant was deaf. Yet, behind the barn doors was the sound of music being played.

“Uh, hello?” the filly called out, yet the music continued to play. Now curious, she opened the doors wide enough to let her and the tray on her back through. Peeking her head in, she found boxes, pieces of oversized furniture, piles of paper and books, and there in the center of the barn right on the floor was the source of the music. Along with the creature lying down, its head with wild hair pressed down on the floorboards and hay.

As she entered inside the barn, she found that there was paper everywhere that was either lying or crumpled up on the floor. Setting the tray down on a bale of hay, she picked up one of these papers to find that they were musical notes. Completely messy on the page, but they were without any doubt notes.

Setting it aside, her attention was now back at the giant that was lying down like a fur rug; its arms were pressing the keys of the legless piano. Part of her wanted to get this… thing’s attention, to let him know that she has his food. However, there was a part of her told her to wait because of the music that was coming out of the piano. It was as if she had walked in on something personal the way the notes sounded.

In fact, this sound that the handicapped piano was making was something that she’d never heard of before. At times, it sounded like it was homesick, at other times sad, or regretful, and even lonely. There was a sense that the piano was crying from the main theme that the giant was playing.

“Uh, excuse me,” Applebloom started, wondering if her sister somehow mistaken that he couldn’t hear. But still, he kept on playing. “Hello?” she raised her voice a bit louder, and still got the same ignored response. “Hello! Your dinner’s ready!” even when she screamed, the pianist still played on as if she wasn’t there.

Eventually, she gave up getting his attention and just sat down to listen until he was finished. Although her stomach wanted her to just return to the Apple’s dining table, there was something about the music that just kept her there for several minutes. She listened to the melody of the higher and lower notes that danced together in her head. Compared to the tunes that she normally listens to, this solo instrument didn’t try to catch her attention, but it was somehow… straightforward in how heartbreaking it is. Not enough to make her cry, but it did keep her attention as the theme developed.

In truth, Applebloom had never heard so much emotion being put into this one song that didn’t have a band or another instrument to play side by side. There were no lyrics, yet the melody was like a song without words. As if it was mute about its loneliness.

But eventually, Ludwig played the final chords softly that he opened his eyes to find that he wasn’t alone. “WHAT!” his voice was like a thunderclap that nearly knocked the filly over.

“Uh… S-Sorry mister, we’re jus’ about ta have dinner when I was told ta bring yer-”

“Stop!” Beethoven got back onto his feet, now towering over the yellow Apple. “You’re saying too many words,” he then went to a table in which he got a pencil and a notebook. Walking back to the piano, he tossed it down on the instrument in front of the filly. “Write it down.”

Gulping, she flipped open the book and scribbled in her message by holding the pencil in her mouth.

I’m sorry mister. Applejack had me bring that tray over there because it’s time for dinner. But I didn’t want to disturb your playing.

She then flipped it over in which the giant leaned over. After reading it, he looked around until he spotted the tray of strudel. “Ah, I see.” He then turned back to her, “And who are you?”

Applebloom, I’m Applejack’s and Big Mac’s little sister.

He then went over to the tray and felt the food, “It’s nearly cold,” he muttered loudly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The filly’s ears folded back, picking up the pencil, she wrote:

Because I wanted to listen to that song you were playing. It’s really good. What was it?

“Something I wrote a long time ago,” he sighed, picking up the strudel and started eating. “Not bad, although I wish it was warmer – but quite sweet with the cinnamon.” He looked over to find the pony was writing something down. “What are you doing?” He walked over to her, reading the words as they were being written. It was in a form of a question.

How did you do that?

“What?”

My sister says you can’t hear, but if that’s true, how can you play what I’ve just heard?

“The floor picks up vibrations,” he said, continuing eating. “My jaw tends to help pick up sounds from the piano. Although on some days I can’t pick up on anything at all so I have to play by the memory of what it used to hear.” Applebloom looked up at him wide eyes, although she didn’t say anything, he could tell what she was thinking by her expression. “No Fräulein, I could barely make out what I was playing. But I can still hear it in my old head of mine. I wasn’t born deaf you know.”

Applebloom paused before she made a reply.

You know, I just realized that I don’t know if I know your name. Who are you?

“Such a nosy little pony you are, asking so many questions. But you’re right; I don’t think I’ve seen you before either, so you can call me Ludwig.”

Before the little Apple could write down her response, she thought she saw something moved from the corner of her eye until a voice rang out. “Applebloom!” her older sister’s voice called out, “Did ya get lost?”

I have to go; my sister is calling me for dinner.

“Well go then, child. You don’t have to wait on me,” before the filly could make it out the door, she heard. “Oh! Tell your sister or brother that I need to have my chamber pot emptied sometime tonight and that I need a fresh towel. Oh! And tell that Princess Twilight to come back to fix my strings from my piano again. I think I’ve already broken a few but I’m not sure.”

She nodded, and as she headed back to the house, she came out of the barn with more questions. To Applebloom, what she just saw and heard was completely paradoxical. There was no doubt that the creature was deaf, she screamed at the top of her lungs, after all, to try to get his attention. Yet, what she heard, although heartbreaking, was undoubtedly beautiful that came from a creature that couldn’t hear it.

That, and what was it that she saw from the corner of her eye back in the barn? Whatever it was it was so quick that she didn't have time to register what exactly it was. Perhaps it was a ra-

“Applebloom!”

“Comin’!” she hollered back, quickening her pace to the back door and into the kitchen.

“There ya are,” her Granny said as she sat down at the table. “What took ya?”

“Can Ah ask you guys somethin’?” the yellow filly inquired. “Are ya sure he can’t hear?”

To this, she received some odd looks from her siblings and grandmother. “He is,” her older sister said. “Why?”

“Did you know he can play the piano?”

This got a laugh from Granny, “Sure does! Badly!” with a smirk, she shook her head, “Ah think that singin’ cats make better music then what’s goin’ on in the barn. He’d been keepin’ me up from mah naps too.”

Applebloom raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that? What Ah heard was something completely different.” She was immediately questioned what she was talking about, “Well, when Ah was brin’ that tray inta the barn,” she began placing her share of food onto her plate. “Ah heard someone playin’ a sad song that’s really good. Ah tried to get his attention, but he just kept on playin’ like Ah wasn’t there. Ah don’t know what you’ve heard, but what Ah’ve heard was something… beautiful.”

She felt her ears being pulled upward, “Are you sure yer ears are workin’?” Applejack questioned.

“You weren’t there ta hear it,” Applebloom pushed her hoof away. “Ah’m tellin’ the truth,” then from the corner from her eye, she saw something heading towards the barn. “Is that Twilight?”

Chapter 8: Inspiration in B b Major.

As much as he tried for the past several hours, Beethoven was completely stumped. All he was able to come up with is some new tunes, but none that caught his attention for the symphony that will take him home. No matter how much he tried to clear his head or listened to the ever-present ring in his ears that kept the world silent, there were no beginning movements for him to write. Worst yet, he still had no idea what theme to work off of.

Sitting on a hay bale, he could only hear the goosing and slurping sound of the strudel he’s been eating and swallowing. His mind was getting off of the yellow filly that was here minutes ago to get back to work on the ticket to Vienna. “If only I had a beginning,” he muttered between chewing.

The barn door behind him opened, in which Ludwig didn’t hear the hoofsteps that came in. “Mr. Beethoven,” Twilight said as she went around him to get into his sight.

When Beethoven looked up, he nearly jumped. “Ach! Oh, it’s you again,” he said before returning to eating. “I must say that yellow pony was rather quick.”

Twilight tilted her head in confusion.

“I think I’ve broken a few strings on the piano already,” he pointed.

She pulled out some paper and scribbled down a message for him.

Mr. Beethoven, I really need to talk to you on the books you’ve lent to me! It’s incredible!

Putting his tray down, he inquired, “Does this have to do with you borrowing my copies of Herr Bach and Mozart?” She nodded, “Well then, what did you find?”

Believe it or not, they’re the exact same, note for note! I have checked it and rechecked again from every page of music, and they look as if they’re copies of one another!

“Copies?”

Even the most challenging of pieces are exactly like the ones in your books. From key changes to trills, crescendos, the number of notes, you name it! As hard as I tried, I couldn’t find a single flaw with any of them. Every piece is the same as their counterparts!

“So in other words,” Ludwig said, “What you are saying that the genius and poetry of my Bach and Mozart is mirrored exactly as your composers?”

Twilight nodded furiously.

Exactly! So I went to research the history of classical music and wrote a report for you. Tell me, do you know much about the history of the music before you?

“It was required in my studies,” he told her. “I’ve studied ancient music of the monks for a Mass that I worked on several years ago, as well as those of the masters like Bach and Handel.”

From her saddlebag, Twilight pulled out a scroll with her aura and offered it up to Beethoven.

It read:

An Abridged History of Music
By Princess Twilight Sparkle

Even before Equestria was founded, music had always played a key role in the ancient tribes of ponykind: Earth Ponies, Unicorn, and Pegasi. Each one had a different part that they played in the earliest of societies. The Pegasi, who began as a military-like culture, used music for marches and signals in the role of battle. The Unicorns used it for entertainment or to woo others for romantic purposes. And the earliest of Earth Pony society used music for their harvest festivals.

Unfortunately, only an extremely few of these prehistoric tunes were ever put down into writing. That came shortly after the foundation of Equestria. Although nopony is certain who invented the earliest form of musical writing, legend has that it was invented by either Clover the Clever or Starswirl the Bearded. Either way, for whatever reason, this universal coded writing system of putting dots against lines had sparked a revolution in music and musical experimentation.

Over time, especially during Celestia’s lone reign, ideas of music were slowly developed such as the ideas of melody, octaves, harmony, rhythm, time, how many Major and Minor chords there are, just to name a few, had progressed when early composers experimented. They did this with their own voices or organizing choirs, as well as for instruments both for solos and as for ever-growing bands. Eventually, Before 850 A.B.N.M. (After Banishing Nightmare Moon (Celestia’s sister)) there were two types of music being played: the folk, common music; and the classical for the higher class ponies.

For the common pony, their idea of music was either a soloist or a band that had a lead singer to sing about love, loss, protest, or whatever poem that they could set music to. Although popular music such as this has evolved over the years, the formula has stayed the same.

As for the higher class ponies, Classical music is considered intellectual, fancy background music to listen, dance, march, or in some cases, fall asleep to. For musicians in this field, it’s considered the most difficult to play in because composers like Bach to Moztrot have pushed the virtuosity of their instruments. However, since the death of W. A. Moztrot, such music has been in decline in popularity because the younger audiences consider it as slow, boring, no catchy tunes, exciting, or as shocking as the common music. In modern times, classical music from orchestras or soloists is only widely used as background music since the invention of the moving picture.

Today, from the folk, common music had sprung out a wide variety of music in the last century and a half while using the same formula. From jazz music that requires musicians to play improvised variations on a theme to “country” that deals with rural life that deals with farm life, to the rebellious rock and roll (although it uses the same musical techniques of classical music), the ever-trendy “pop” music (short for popular) that favors strong rhythmic beatings of the bass clef, and the latest techno music that uses the sounds of modern technology that’s commonly used for dances.

By now, Ludwig had read enough, turning to the alicorn that was fixing his piano while he was reading, he said, “So the music I know is dying in this world?” She nodded. So in response, Beethoven crumpled up the report and tossed it to the floor. “Unbelievable! Music that’s supposed to be timeless is falling out of fashion! You know what, I don’t care if this is the New World or Vienna, this is completely unacceptable!”

Twilight wrote a note to him.

Mr. Beethoven, I know how upsetting this is for you. But the point of the report that you’ve crushed was to compare our history of music with yours.

Ludwig took in several deep breaths, “Upsetting is, as you might say it, an understatement. I mean, here you had such a rich history where the poetry of Moztrot, Beethoven, Handel, and so on has faded into the background in this world. I’m completely stunned, Your Majesty!”

Okay, let’s not focus on that at the moment. Can we talk about what’s different in your world?

Picking up the crumpled report, Ludwig sat back down to reread it again, “For one, nowhere in this do you mention Christianity. I do not see a word about the chants, or the masses, requiems, or even the oratorios.” Then a thought came to him, “Do you know anyone by the name of Jesus Christ?”

He only got a confused look.

“What I mean is that religion has played a vital role in my world’s music. What about yours? Do you have a religion?”

Twilight took up a pencil to give him her response.

Actually, there isn’t. When your rulers control the very sun, moon, and stars themselves, that you could actually see them up close that you can talk with them or even write to them, where’s the need for religion when you can see them? What does this have to do with music?

“Well, in that case, I don’t know if it’s possible to explain the differences.”

He saw the lilac alicorn raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, and he knew what she was thinking.

“Look, your beginning is eerily similar to the reasons why our ancestors used music such as the Greeks, the Romans or the Celts. But where your kind started to write music down, however, that’s where it becomes alien. The reason why the monks of the early church wrote down their chants was so that they wouldn’t have to remember the melodies of the prayers they were saying. It made things easier. From Christianity, we learned about balancing harmonies, of rhythms and chords. However, even if I explain it to you, you still wouldn’t understand it.”

Why not?

“Because!” Ludwig stood on his feet. “To understand how music as I know it grew up, you have to experience it yourself! A composer like me talking about neither of it nor a thick book could explain to you everything of the journey that music has gone to. How could you understand the haunting sounds of the monks if you never heard it? Or when chord progression revolutionized music? Or the concertos? The Fugues? Tonic and Dominant? Or even… what sort of effect that I have caused in what music supposed to mean if you never heard a note of it! How can you…”

Then Beethoven paused. In his rant, he froze into place as he reflected on what he just said. In the silence of his ringing ears, his muse was whispering to him. It was on an idea that no other composer before him had ever thought up before. “Mein Gott! Das ist es!”

“What?” Twilight asked but Ludwig went straight to one of the boxes and pulled out a thick notebook before marching over to the improvised desk where his pen and inkwell was kept. Uncorking the bottle, he immediately started to write on it. Curious, Twilight walked over and hopped onto the hay bale to see what he was doing. It was a title.

Symphony No. 10 in A Minor by Ludwig van Beethoven

Geschichte der Musik

Twilight tapped him on the shoulder and wrote to him.

These words here, what do they mean?

“History of Music,” Beethoven replied. “I’ve been thinking all day what theme to work on as my ticket home. But now, I have got it. If that creature wants a symphony of me, then I might as well do it as no other composer has done before! I’ll write up four movements to illustrate the story of how music grew up. The first movement shall be the past, while the final, will be about the future.”

“The future?” Twilight said, but when Ludwig didn’t look back up, she remembered that he couldn’t hear so she wrote to him.

“Yes, the future,” Ludwig got back up and went over to the boxes of his sketched out music. “I’m going to tell them about the past and present of music as I know it, why not go ahead into the future of what music will sound like?”

The Princess of Friendship wrote to him.

But how can you write about what music will sound like if you don’t know what it will be like?

“You said so yourself that this is two hundred years after your Mozart’s death, correct?” She nodded, “Are there still orchestra’s and choirs in this world?” she nodded again. “Then that settles it, I’ll write the future’s music for them. While I’m at it, try to save the music as I know it from dying completely! After all,” He started to pick up some scraps of paper from one of the boxes, “if there’s anything that yellow filly has taught me, is that there’s still hope through my music.” He then turned around to Twilight, “Princess, I need to use whatever influence you have to get my music not only published but performed by the best orchestras you can find. I don’t care what you have to do, but find the best musicians that are out there, and make my music sing.”

Twilight put a hoof to her chin in thought.

Since I have your permission, and I thank you kindly for it, I think I might know at least one pony in town that may provide a tremendous help.

"Good," Ludwig said, "Now unless you have something else to bother me with, I have work to do."

Well, since you have brought it up, I do have one more question to ask of you: What was Vienna like?

Beethoven stared at that the question for a good long minute. Even though he'd been gone from his home city for about a day, he started to recall the days when he still had his hearing. "My home...? It was both a great paradise and a gilded prison. I remember when I first came to the city when I was quite young, that not just music, but masterpieces were everywhere. Everywhere! Where on one street, a marching band is playing a patriotic song from their trumpets and drums. On a street corner, you may hear an organ-grinder singing a song from an opera that played the night before. On a clear day summer's day when all the windows are open, you could hear melodies and harmonies clashing together as students practiced their singing and their instruments for a future recital. Even the parks held concerts where I heard Mozart himself play his concertos for money. The Viennese always loved listening and playing good music. They rate it, criticize, praised, booed, applaud and discussed great melodies they hear. Vienna isn't called the Music Capital for nothing, if anything, you might call it a second religion."

He sighed, "As beautiful as the city can be, it is a prison if you're too good at what you do. Don't misunderstand me, Princess, my heart belongs to that city, but for most of my life, I'm restricted to perform my music there because that's where the real money comes from. Sometimes it underpays, but I have... had friends there... Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen my friend Schindler for over a year now. When was the last time I've spoken to him?"

Twilight could see that Ludwig's expression was taking on a look of guilt. She wrote down asking if something had happened between him and his friend.

"Long story short," Beethoven replied, "I had a fight with him about a year ago after I premiered the Ninth. Even though everyone fell in love with it, I wasn't getting the money that I deserved after working so hard on it. Schiller was the one who helped me with the finances, so I accused him of robbing my share of it. We fought, and we haven't spoken to one another since... Perhaps, I should have apologized. I guess I have been rather bad at friendships since I've lost my hearing." He looked up at Twilight who was giving him a sympathetic look. Returning his attention to the notebook, he flipped the score to the next page. "Now leave me, I have work to do."

Before Twilight left, she gave him one last note before she left.

Then as the Princess of Friendship, I swear upon my honor that I will do everything in my power to get you back home. You have my word on that.

Chapter 9: The Piano Teacher in D minor

The next afternoon, once Spike was finished with his chores at the library, he hurried along towards his piano teacher’s house with a new piece of sheet music under his claw. He was running from street to street, dodging ponies in a mad dash because he knew from his internal clock that he was late. But at the same time, thanks to the newly printed manuscripts that Twilight brought from last night, especially when she encouraged him to have this particular music introduced to his teacher.

On the near outskirts of town and on top of a hill, the little dragon headed towards one of the most unique cottages in Ponyville. It was fitting considering the ponies that reside there. One half was a homely wooden brown with recycled organ pipes for chimneys while the other was violet where the flowerpots under the windows had a piano pattern around it while in front of the house was a musical note shaped hedge.

Heading up to the half and half front door, he knocked on the door while taking a moment to take back his breath. A moment later, the door opened to a white unicorn with a blue mane, purple shades, and earphones hanging around her neck.

“Hey D J,” Spike waved, “Is Octavia still here?”

“I am actually,” said a voice from inside. To which, the unicorn stepped aside, letting the roommate through, “You’re about ten minutes late Spike.”

“Yes I know, I know,” the little dragon said as he walked in. “I had a couple of chores that needed to be taken care of and I was selecting some new music.”

The gray earth pony mare raised an eyebrow as her student went straight towards the baby grand while her roommate returned to the couch. “So I assume that you’ve chosen a new song to practice for the recital in October?”

Spike hopped onto the bench, “Actually, I’m rather excited. Tell me, have you heard about the giant that came in yesterday?”

“I’m not sure, I wasn’t here yesterday,” Octavia approached the piano. “Why?”

“Well, the guy is a composer that by luck had brought all his copies of his music along with him. Better yet, he just gave permission last night to have them published too, which is why I’ve brought this.” He set the sheet music on the piano stand. “I’ve chosen this in particular because by the looks of it, I think I might be able to play it. But can you do it first to see what you think of it?”

“Okay?” Octavia sat down at the black and white keyboard. Looking up at the music before her, while it had a funny name and spelling, the music was easy enough for her to play through. “Alright, let’s see what we have here.”

She placed her hooves on the keys and began a soft, slow dance of sixteenth notes. The very start was a very simple melody to not only listen to but to teach to Octavia’s mind. In a way, it was like a long lost love letter from a child given its simple tune. For a while, she was beginning to think that it was too simple until it started to develop from it. It would return to those two dancing notes before it was resolved again.

As she played on, the piece became a little more challenging as chords were being added and quicker notes added the tension in some places. She noted that there were contrasts of the light melody from a darker undertone that weaved together like a tapestry. Not to mention that there were plenty of sharp and natural notes that made her pay attention. As well as the grace notes that were almost too advanced in some areas.

By the time she pressed the final notes, she sat back, nodding her head, “Interesting… Spike, I can see why you would have chosen this, though, for your level of skill, this may prove to be a challenge for you. For instance, this passage here as well as here would require you to really pay attention where you’re putting your claws at. Not only that, but you would also need to watch out for the decrescendos and grace notes if this is going to work.” She turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “Where did you find this again?”

“I keep telling you, this is the music that the giant wrote,” Spike said. “But before we get to me taking a crack out of this, what did you think?”

“Well… it’s charming, I’ll give you that. To me, it sounds like a forgotten love song in some places, while in others it seems a little too virtuoso in others. But I don’t think it would be anything too hard for you to handle.”

“So I take it that you like it?”

“It sounds nice to me.”

The baby dragon sighed, “Oh good, because right after this lesson, Twilight wants me to give you a message.”

Octavia tilted her head, “That being?”

“The composer who wrote that he and Twi are coming over here to talk to you.”

_*_

Be it Vienna or Ponyville, Beethoven followed his usual routine that after lunch, he would go out into the streets or the countryside with his pockets full to bursting with paper and pencils, thinking about nothing but music in his head. Not to say that he did get a few stares from the ponies around him as he hummed loudly and waved his arms about as if he was conducting an invisible orchestra. This time, he was in the grassy park, listening to the silence to catch the third movement of his new symphony through his head. In his mind, the horns, bassoons, piccolo's and clarinets were improvising a theme in which it was as pleasant as this sunny day. On top of this, a string quartet hummed while a possible violin sonata waltzed, all of which he juggled in his mind.

From the sight of the giant waving his arms about, many ponies had mistaken it as a sign for them to get out of his sight, even fathers and mothers called out to their children to not get too close to him. Friends and families stayed away from the old man’s path that seemed as if he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

That was, except for a certain alicorn Princess of Friendship that flew around him until she landed before him. On instinct, Ludwig pulled out his conversation book with a pencil and hand it over to her.

I’ve been looking all over for you. What have you been doing?

“Working,” he replied as he continued on his walk with Twilight in tow. “I’ve been trying to think about one of my movements through before I can set it down onto paper.”

You were supposed to come with me to see Spike’s teacher an hour ago. It’s almost three!

“Is that so? Tell me, does that clock tower have bells?”

At this question, Twilight’s frustration transformed from annoyance to embarrassment.

No comment.

With a frustrated sigh, Ludwig said, “Warum bin ich nicht überrascht?” Looking down at the princess, he asked, “How far is this teacher’s home?”

It’s a short walk that way. We might be there within five minutes.

Ludwig immediately changed course with the lilac pony following by his side. By the time they were out of the park, Twilight’s curiosity gotten a hold of her to write down an inquiry for him.

Mr. Beethoven, yesterday you were talking about how you played for your Moztrot. Tell me, how did that happen?

“How it happened?” Ludwig answered, “Well, when I was quite young and was trapped in Bonn to take care of the family, one of my teachers there that taught me about composing had advised me to go to Vienna where I could really learn from the most talented musicians and composers of the day. It took a while to scrape some money for me to go there, but once I did, I took a carriage for several days towards Vienna. I think I might have been… thirteen, fourteen or probably fifteen at the time when I traveled there. Now mind you, there were several other composers that I could have gone to understand music further such as Salieri or Haydn. But for me, the one composer that I wanted to learn from the start was my idol, Mozart.” Just then, he stopped at the cottage came into view, “Is that a house?”

Twilight looked over to what he was looking at and wrote down the explanation.

It is. The house was renovated by two roommates, Octavia (who we’re going to see), and Vinyl Scratch (or as she’s well known as DJ Pon-3). I think it was made like that because they’ve said it was cheaper to share the rent or something like that.

Ludwig looked up again at the house, “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you ponies.”

Twilight took the lead as they walked up to the door and the mare knocked on the door. A moment later, it was answered by Octavia, “Your Majesty!” she bowed before looking up… and up, at Ludwig. “My… Spike wasn’t exaggerating, he really is a giant.”

The princess looked between her and Ludwig, “You mean you didn’t know about him arriving yesterday?”

“Vinyl and I weren’t here yesterday,” she said, once again looking up at him. “Well, hello there, my name is Octavia Melody, and my student has already told me abo-”

“Stop! Stop!” Beethoven put his conversation book down in front of her, “Write it down, I can’t hear.”

This seemed to taken her by surprise and looked over to Twilight, “Didn’t Spike told you that he’s deaf?”

The piano teacher shook her head and picked up a pencil to write her introduction of who she is to him.

Once she was done, Ludwig picked it up. “So you’re the piano teacher?” she nodded. “And you play the cello in an orchestra. Good, at least I’ve found at least someone in this town that I can relate to.”

“Ms. Melody,” Twilight spoke up, “May we come in?”

“Of course,” Octavia stepped aside, letting the alicorn in while Beethoven had to duck before entering in. Once inside, he reached his hand up to see if his head would touch the ceiling and, sure enough, he had to bend over a bit when he stood up. He quickly noticed that despite the cramped space, he did see some recognizable things in the half and half living room. At one end was a piano, a beautifully made cello with a library of sheet music laying around on shelves. On the other, however, lying was a couch with a white unicorn with a blue mane nodding her head rhythmically with some discs around her ears. She was right next to some kind of machines that Ludwig had never seen before.

Octavia seemed to roll her eyes and went up to the laid back mare and tapped her to suddenly getting her to jolt upright. The gray mare reached a hoof to the discs around the other’s ears to pull them off, “Vinyl, get up, Princess Twilight is here.”

Vinyl, however, looked up at Beethoven, pointing at her before doing the same at him.

“This is a guest of the princess,” she said to her, “Vinyl, this is Mr. Beethoven; the composer of what Spike had brought in to play.”

“Why isn’t she talking?” Ludwig asked, offering his conversation book over to them, in which was engulfed by a violet light along with a pencil. The white unicorn quickly wrote something down before giving it back to him.

Can’t, I’m mute.

“What are you? A musician as well?” She nodded, “Somehow, I’m not surprised. A musician who can’t speak and a composer who can’t hear must be a friendship made in heaven.”

The white mare’s jaw dropped raising a hoof up in the universal, ‘Are you kidding me?’ shrug. Twilight, meanwhile gave a disapproved gaze, but Ludwig wasn’t paying any attention at her.

“Pardon me Princess Twilight,” Octavia spoke up, “but may I ask why you and… Mr. Beethoven, are here?”

“I was hoping that you might help me pull a few strings,” she said. “You see, we have a very rare opportunity, something that has never happened before in Equestria’s history. For you see, in my library I have several dozens of manuscripts that, in our timeline dates around the time after Moztrot’s death. Not just that, but we have music from a completely different universe altogether from where Mr. Beethoven had come from. All classical music that’s completely unknown to Equestria, and I need you to help perform them.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, “Does this have anything to do with what Spike brought in this afternoon?”

Twilight nodded, “Yes. And so much more! With Ludwig’s permission, I have finished manuscripts – printed manuscripts of nine symphonies, piano concertos, string quartets, sonatas and more. Since you’re a part of the Canterlot Philharmonic, perhaps you can help introduce a new kind of music to the world.”

“I don’t know…” the Cellist raised a hoof to her chin, “You said that your friend is deaf, isn’t he?”

Then, Twilight got an idea, “Do you have a spoon that I can borrow? Like a very big, metal spoon?” Even in her confusion, that spoon was brought to her. The Princess returned to Ludwig and waved over for his conversation book.

She wrote aloud, “Tell… me… do… you… remember… what… you’ve… played… for… Moztrot?”

“It’s Mozart!” Beethoven corrected, “And yes, I still remember what happened that day.” Taking the spoon in his hand, he went over to the piano.

“He played for Moztrot?” Octavia questioned, but Twilight shushed her.

“You see, Herr Mozart wasn’t the kind that easily takes in pupils,” he said pulling the bench underneath. “Since he was a very busy man, he didn’t usually take in students to teach them about the piano, much less for composition. However, he did say that if he were to teach me, I have to prove it to him that I was really worth his time. So by letter, we agreed that he’ll set up a little trial for me at a salon from a friend of his, where I got the privilege to play on his own piano!

“Well,” he laughed, “you can imagine how little I was, so nervous that I was being judged by my idol. But, when the time came, I had to be brave and started playing something for him. I played a variation of his own composition, so I went up with some sheet music in hand, and played something like this.”

Ludwig put the spoon in his teeth, lay the other end onto the piano and began playing. The first four notes walked up from the lower end of the keyboard before switching to the higher end for some quick notes. After playing the same board theme again, Beethoven took out the spoon from his teeth, “But Mozart was terribly unimpressed. ‘Eh, nothing special,’ I remember him saying. ‘Anyone can read a piece of music and play it back like an organ grinder’s monkey, especially when there’s no expressive creativity that makes an artist’s invention.’

“And with that, Herr Mozart left the room, and I was so panicked stricken, that I immediately began to improvise, on a similar theme, but this time, in a new key!” With that, he put the spoon back between his teeth and immediately began playing.

What came out of that baby grand was like a firework going off. Notes from the piano flew off like a well-orchestrated firecracker that had sparks and colors zooming off in theme and variations. Higher and lower notes fought for dominance and grace over the explosion of sound.

Twilight looked over at Octavia in which her lower jaw hit the floor, while the roommate went over to her equipment to immediately beginning recording the wild piano solo. Several minutes went by as Ludwig played out what came to his head, where white and black keys shifted from loud and chaotic to soft and calm. But when he hammered in the final cords, Beethoven laughed as he took out the spoon, “And upon hearing that,” he continued. “I remembered Herr Mozart peeking his head back into the room, and to this day, I remembered what he said. ‘Gentlemen, I’m afraid that I’ve been mistaken. We must keep an eye on that boy because I can hear one day that he might give the world something to talk about.’”

Chapter 10: Musical Critique in A minor

Octavia still had a look of shock as her jaw had yet to recover from that performance. Vinyl, on the other hoof, had already pressed stop on the recording button but wore a grin. Twilight only had a smirk.

The unicorn DJ picked up Ludwig’s conversation book to write down a very short message.

Dude! That was incredible!

Beethoven gave a low chuckle. “Why, thank you, Fräulein.” He then turned to the still stunned Octavia. "What?”

"How did you do that?” the gray mare asked aloud.

At first, Twilight was about to remind her that he couldn't hear and was going to reach for the conversation book until she noticed that Ludwig was silently moving his lips.

“How… did… I do that?” he asked, and Octavia nodded. “Well, since my ears were useless for… the last seven years, I’ve found ways to still hear music outside of my own mind. I found that vibrations through my bones tend to help a bit to hear what I’m playing. As long as my head is rested against something vibrating, I can still hear what I’m playing.”

Gears were turning in the white unicorn's head as Beethoven spoke. This talk about vibrations made her look at her earphones, and then to her speakers with which she had played at countless clubs on countless nights. Where at times, whenever she used either, they could get so loud that she could even feel- suddenly, a lightbulb went on in her head.

With the conversation book nearby, she quickly wrote down for the giant:

Vibrations? Hold on a second! Let me try something!

She took off her earphones, making sure that the cord was still connected to her device in which she kept her music, along with other songs she liked and turned up the volume as high as it could go. Using her magic, she hoofed them over to the old man while moving her front hooves over her own pointed ears a couple of times to urge him to put them on.

Beethoven looked confused. “What do you want me to do?”

Facehoofing, Vinyl reached over for the conversation book to write her message.

Put these on over your ears. I want to see if you can hear anything with those.

Ludwig deadpanned."Not to disappoint you, Fräulein, but I don’t think that these will work. I’ve been with too many quack doctors that had given me false hope in recovering my hearing. Why I wouldn't be surprised if these were just as ineffective as the desk full of hearing horns that did nothing but make me look ridiculous.”

Trust me on this. I think it might work.

“I doubt that it will,” Beethoven said, folding his arms. “My hearing is completely gone. I don’t think that even two hundred and some odd years is going to change the very thing that I can no longer get back.”

But Vinyl was persistent, so Ludwig eventually gave in and stretched the earphones over his ears, but he found that it didn’t fit around his head, so he just pressed one of the discs close to one of his ears.

Okay, now I’m going to let this play a short song of mine, so tell us if you can hear something.

“I still doubt it,” Beethoven mumbled, but the DJ ignored him and scrolled over to one of her playlists and chose one of her songs. Even before she could press play, both Twilight and Octavia already knew what the unicorn had in mind.

When Vinyl pressed the button, it got an immediate reaction from Ludwig. He was startled.

Twilight wrote a note to him asking what happened.

“Can you play it again?” Ludwig asked, this time pressing one of the discs to his jawbone.

Nodding, Vinyl rewound the song to the start and let it play at full volume while the giant sat there silently. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the vibrations that the earphones were giving as the short DJ song was blasting out.

“Oh, that’s clever!” Twilight said before turning to the DJ. “You’re using your earphones as a kind of hearing aid.” The white unicorn smirked. “Now that I think about it, this could help us a lot. As long as he can feel the vibrations at high decibels, it could help us play his music correctly.”

“As much as I can see where this is going,” the Cellist started “I can already see a huge problem with both of your lines of thinking.” At this, the princess of friendship asked what she meant. “For starters," Octavia replied, "even if he could hear music from the vibrations of Vinyl’s earphones, the equipment for him to be able to hear is too big, awkward, and clunky to move around. Not to mention that it would take some time to disassemble the parts from the microphone downwards, move it, and reassemble them. Plus, who’s to say that he can pick up everything from that music she’s playing him?”

The three of them turned to Beethoven as the short techno song wrapped up. Vinyl inquired if he could pick up anything.

“From this contraption? Surprisingly yes, but not all,” He said. “I couldn’t pick up the higher notes, or some of the softer moments there, but it’s almost like my hearing was when I was starting to go deaf.”

After a silent, celebratory “Yes!” from the white unicorn, she asked through writing what he thought of her song.

“It needs work,” he said folding his arms. “It’s the most innovated thing I’ve listened to with these weird sounds that are coming out of this. Not to mention that you might be able to cause a riot or five from where I come from. What I like is that you were able to use a wide range of sound, but give a surprise in every step of the way. You have an interesting melody that I think you can play around with and do countless variations on. However, with that said, there is a problem with it.”

Vinyl frowned and Ludwig went on explaining. “You see, Fräulein, the way you use the drums for every beat of each measure, they lose their strength and excitement if you just play it straight from beginning to end. Where I come from, using drums for rhythms are used to highlight certain notes to make them strong and powerful. Here, however, your song falls flat on the discipline side because those drums are always present, so it’s no longer a surprise, but instead a distraction from the main theme. Not to say you shouldn’t use these downbeats at all, but give each of them space and good timing to really make it effective.”

The white unicorn sighed.

Everypony’s a critic.

“But tell me,” he said, “Is this the only music that it can play?”

By this point, Octavia waved in to get a hold of the conversation book.

To answer your question; that device can contain hundreds of recorded music, not just that one song.

Ludwig took a hold of the device to which the earphones were connected. “Such a useful invention,” He commented.

The Cellist looked over to her roommate. “You do have my recordings on there, don’t you?” Octavia asked. Vinyl nodded, taking the small device back into her violet aura. the rest of them watched as the DJ switched over to another playlist in which she showed Octavia’s recorded music. “Play that one," she said, pointing.

Vinyl raised an eyebrow.

“What? It was written last year and, considering his background, he might appreciate it.”

Octavia then took the conversation book and told Beethoven that the next song to which he was about to listen was recorded by her on her cello and written by a friend of hers who played the piano.

“So it’s new?” Ludwig asked as he took the earphone back to his chin. The gray mare nodded. “Now I’m curious. Let it play.” Vinyl did, and for a moment, Beethoven closed his eyes as he focused on the vibrations of the duet. However, about half a minute later, his eyes sprang open, taking the earphones off his jaw with a frown on his face as he looked over at Princess Twilight. “Your Majesty, I know exactly why classical music as I know it is dying.”

Octavia was taken completely by surprise, “What!” She pulled on his sleeve, “Excuse me, but what?” she questioned.

Ludwig looked right in the eye and said, “That music you’ve played, it has no soul.”

“I don’t understand!” she said in frustration, looking away.

“Face me, then talk.” she did so, and Beethoven told her, “Before you get angry at me, at least let me explain why I said what I said. From what I can pick up from that so-called recording, you and your friend that composed that had committed the biggest sin in music.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed, getting a little too angry, she wrote in his conversation book.

Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?

“There was a lack of passion,” Ludwig answered. “It’s clear that you can play the cello, but on the other hand, it sounded as if you were bored with it. I’ll give your friend over there credit that, while I may not fully support her music, at least there was passion being put in.”

To this, Vinyl gave a smug grin.

But that performance was flawless! There wasn’t a single note that was out of place!

“And that,” Beethoven stood up, minding the low ceiling, “is the problem with it. To be playing the wrong notes is insignificant, but to play music without passion is inexcusable. Come to think of it, it’s no wonder that your friend, with all of her new instruments, seems popular if Twilight is correct. It’s because musicians like yourself are more focused on getting the right notes then playing it with fire!”

“Ludwig!” Twilight called out, but he didn’t hear it. Instead, he paused for a moment to notice that the gray mare’s head was turning scarlet with rage.

“Question: What do you feel now?” He asked.

Her eyes answered for him that she was very upset.

“Angry? Distraught? Think I'm an idiot for saying so?” Ludwig asked as he walked over to pick up her cello and bow and hand it over to her. “Do me a favor right now, and play what you’re feeling.”

“Are you mad?” she asked, but Beethoven didn’t hear her.

Instead, he picked up the earphones and asked Vinyl, “Is there any way you can make this play what she’s going to play?” Indeed, the white unicorn connected one of the best microphones she had and the earphones to her remix table. After turning it on, she nodded. "Now then, still angry?”

Octavia nodded.

“Play!”

And so, in a rage, she played out her emotions. Although improvised, her thoughts transcended from her mind to the strings. On that solo, wooden instrument, the fury she felt was unleashed onto the deaf man who was pressing the earphone to his jawbone. Then, as Twilight noted, as Octavia’s bow hopped from string to string in her angry melody, Ludwig’s foot was tapping.

For the next several minutes, as the Cellist played, she found that despite what she felt from what Beethoven had said about her recording, there was something… liberating about what she was doing. All that bottled up anger and aggression that she would never allow to show in public was draining away as her bow beat in time. Eventually, as she ended her song, she found herself calmer than before.

“That,” Ludwig said, taking the earphone away from his jaw, “Is exactly what you should have been doing. That was the passion that was missing, and just now, even when I insulted you, Fräulein, you have unleashed that fire that was missing. Much better!”

Twilight wrote in his conversation book and showed it to him.

Wait! You were making her angry on purpose?

“Because that’s what was needed,” he turned to the Cellist and the DJ. “Remember, ladies; to be a great musician, you must have the spirit of a gypsy, and the discipline of a soldier. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you live within spitting distance of each other because you two need to learn from the other. And, you know what? That is what my music is about and why it needs to be played. I will say that it will be difficult for you ponies, but it will give you the passion that music in this world needs. My symphonies alone have revolutionized the world where I come from, and perhaps it will do the same here with the three of you.”

After taking a calm breath, Octavia took the book into her own hooves and wrote her message.

Alright, I admit that you do have a point. The orchestra I’m with is going to discuss what to play next week, but since we don’t know you, we’re going to have to play something you’ve written to convince them to play your music.

Beethoven smirked when he read it. “Very well, we’ll do just that; let’s give your orchestra a taste of what I can do. Lucky for us, I know just the piece to make my introduction.”

Chapter 11: The Canterlot Philharmonic in G Major

A week later and in the morning hours at the train station, an alicorn princess and her dragon assistant waited at the tiny station, going over some last minute details.

“A wagon full of copies,” Twilight asked as she looked over the playlist.

Spike looked over at the red wagon that was filled with thick sheet music, “Check.”

“Tickets for Octavia and Ludwig?”

He held them up, “Check.”

“Our tickets?”

“Double check.”

“The listening equipment for Mr. Beethoven to hear with?”

“Already in Canterlot Twi.”

She checked it off, “Octavia and Ludwig?” Twilight looked up, “Where are they anyway?”

Her assistant looked at the clock, “It’s still early. Just give them some time; I’m sure they’ll be here.”

Twilight looked back at her list, “Are you sure that he knows about it?”

“And I’ve written a reminder the night before,” Spike folded his arms. “I think that we’ve got everything except those two and Octavia’s cello.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” she sighed, “After all; it’s been a pretty busy week.”

“Tell me about it,” Spike went over to sit on the benches. “With you getting some of those publishers in making copies of his first two symphonies for the orchestra, my teacher practicing with Mr. Beethoven for their introduction piece and him arguing with Applejack, it’s been a busy week.”

“Yeah,” Twilight sat right next to him. “I still can’t believe of what the Apples are putting up with. His writing on the walls, spilling ink on the floor, me having to fix and retune the strings of his piano several times and even yelling at Big Mac. I guess while we’re in Canterlot, I might as well go to Celestia to see how the living arrangements for him are coming along.”

“So I’ve heard. At least he’s happy that Rarity has given him some new clothes and that he does like Pinkie’s baking.”

“I know. But Fluttershy is still a little too nervous going near him. However, we can focus on those issues later; we have an audition to attend.”

Several minutes later, they spotted the mare and the composer coming up to them. Octavia was pulling a cart with her cello case in the back while Ludwig still looked as messy as ever, even with the green coat he was wearing now. “Good morning Princess and dragon,” he said as he noticed the small wagon full of music. He picked one of them up and flipped through the pages, “Are all of these printed?”

Twilight nodded.

“Did you make sure that your publishers had followed closely to all of the notes that I’ve written?” He pulled out from his breast pocket his conversation book, along with a pencil and offered it to Twilight.

I did. I even rechecked and corrected for mistakes that were made. All of them are exact copies of your first two symphonies

“Wunderbar!”

The Princess turned to the Cellist, “Do you think you’re prepared for what’s going to happen today?”

“I will not lie,” Octavia admitted, “this past week has been very difficult. Even though we’re just going to play only one movement from his Cello Sonata, I had quite a work out with his music. However, I think we’re ready to convince the orchestra to take up his music as well.”

Ludwig turned his attention towards the lines of iron tracks that stretch far into the distance in both directions. “Is this some kind of road?”

Twilight wrote down her answer.

It is in a way. They’re for a machine that will help us get to Canterlot in an hour. It should arrive in a few minutes.

“How do you know when it’ll be here?”

It has a schedule.

Ludwig looked on with a raised eyebrow, "It has a schedule? This world is indeed strange.

"Pardon me, Princess," Octavia said, "Could you ask him if there were any trains where he came from?"

The princess did, and after showing it to Beethoven, he replied, "Are you kidding? These trains and iron rails have just been invented in Europe a couple years ago. In Vienna, we have to use a carriage or go by foot if one is to go anywhere. From what I've read, the locomotive is such a noisy thing, isn't it? That it makes tremendous noise as it speeds across the land that builds these, let's face it, ugly roads from one place to another."

"He's certainly a product of the time, isn't he," Octavia commented.

Then a familiar whistle blew in the distance that signaled that the train was close. A couple of minutes later, the locomotive along with its passenger cars pulled up to them. Ludwig looked on with curiosity, “What is this?”

Our ride to Canterlot, I’ll give the train conductor our tickets and we’ll be over there in no time.

“Isn’t one of those machines that run on steam?” the ponies plus a dragon nodded. “But don’t they explode?”

Twilight sighed; this was going to be one long discussion to the capital.

_*_

“As much as I like Moztrot, I swear that if we vote to play something from him one more time, I’m going to scream.” The stallion complained to his fellow musician next to him. His coat was a sandy brown with his mane and tail a creamy white – his emerald eyes looked down at his collar, stopping a moment to straighten his red bow-tie.

“Well I can’t say that I can blame you, Frederic,” the mare nodded, she was one of the Violists in the orchestra. “Besides, with all that’s been going, I’m wondering if pursuing this career is even worth it.”

“It’s not that I don’t like what we play Alto,” he said as they continued on. “But I would like to have some verity every once in a while. Just to give us, and what remains of our ever-aging audience a surprise every so often would be nice.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” the dusty gold mare commented as she pushed open the door. “Who knows, maybe we could able to play something interesting coming out of this meeting.”

As they came into the theater, noticing the electrical wires on the floor, they followed it until it leads into the seating portion of the building where they found that there was some electrical equipment on stage that was in front of a very confused orchestra.

“What’s all this for?” Frederic asked aloud as they came on stage.

“You can blame my friend for this,” he turned to the voice that he located was coming from Octavia, who already had her cello out, playing the scales already. “However, all of this is here for a very good reason Mr. Hosreshoepin.”

“Are we recording today?” Alto inquired.

“No. It’s actually for somepony special that, I’m going to purpose that we’re going to play his music. He’s here, but I wanted to wait until everypony else is here.”

Several minutes went by until the whole orchestra, plus their conductor, a blue mare named Sea Sharp, came up on stage. “Why is all this equipment lying around?” she asked.

“Maestro,” Octavia stood up, “This is actually my doing, but it’s all for a very good reason.”

“That being?” her conductor raised an eyebrow.

“Since everypony is here, I want to purpose on what music we should be playing for the coming year. It’s from someone that’s quite new in the music world that I was hoping that I could not only introduce him, but his music as well for us to play.”

“For the whole year?” someone coming from the brass section asked. “Like who?”

“I’ll be right back,” she said as she disappeared behind the velvet curtains of the stage. A minute later, not only her but Princess Twilight and her assistant came on out as well. Immediately, everypony bowed to her. But then, they all heard heavy, stone-like steps that came around to pull the curtain away. The orchestra froze as they saw a towering figure that emerged from the curtain.

“Everypony,” Twilight spoke up, “I want all of you to meet a new friend of mine. Ludwig van Beethoven. He’s a composer and pianist that both he and I wanted to have you to be the very first to premier his music to Equestria.”

“Celestia he’s huge,” Alto whispered over to Horseshoepin, in which he dumbly nodded.

“Now, before we begin,” the princess said further as the giant walked over to the piano while Octavia dragged her cello towards the microphone. “I think that it’s very important for all of you to learn one thing about this genius composer here today. It is that as paradoxical as it may sound is absolutely true.” Spike blew up a paper bag into a balloon in which he walked right up behind the old man. “It is that Mr. Beethoven is completely deaf.”

At this signal, the dragon slapped the bag as hard as he could in which there was a loud Pop! While the orchestra was surprised to various some degrees at the sudden sound, Ludwig didn’t seem to flinch as he opens the lid to the keyboard.

“I know what all of you are thinking,” Twilight continued, “You may think that this is crazy, but from what I’ve seen and heard, Mr. Beethoven is a composer unlike any other. All I’m, and Ms. Melody are asking, is for all of you to give him, and his music a fair chance. In fact, Octavia and Ludwig have already prepared a little something to hopefully convince you to play all nine (and possibly ten) of his symphonies, and maybe a couple of piano concertos as well if you have enough time.”

Frederic raised a hoof, “You mean he’s going to play for us?” The Princess of Friendship nodded. “But how do you expect for him to hear the keyboard or Ms. Melody’s cello? You said so yourself, Your Highness, he can’t hear.”

“That’s what this equipment is for,” Octavia told him as she took her place. “Although he can’t hear anything from his ears, he can pick up vibrations from the earphones that he’s about to put on.” They watched as Ludwig placed the discs on his cheekbones. The gray mare tapped on the microphone near her, “Can you hear me?” she asked into it.

“Ja,” Beethoven replied before tapping the microphone near the piano, in which he nodded.

The Cellist turned to her conductor, “With your and the orchestra’s permission, I would like to perform with Mr. Beethoven a movement from one of his cello sonatas to give all of you an idea what he can do.”

Now curious, she was told to go ahead with it – and so, Octavia raised her bow to her strings, taking in a deep breath before she began to play the first few notes. This was followed by Ludwig’s playing that followed as he hummed aloud. In fact, as he played, members from the Philharmonic had to do a double take that although the princess claimed that he couldn’t hear a thing, he was playing the piano heavenly.

There was a kind of certain grandeur at the first minute before the music took on a surprising turn as both piano and cello took on a delicate but virtuosic turn. Everypony in the theater turned to one another in surprise, amusement or confusion, because unlike all the other pieces they’ve performed where there’s a certain structure where there’s a theme, to variation, back to theme and a new variation, this was all over the place. But no matter how chaotic it got in the duet, there was a kind of grace and lightheartedness that counterpoint the madness and wild notes. Somehow, it gave the main theme a kind of richness in every changing key and attitude.

While the movement went on for about ten or eleven minutes, it seemed less because even though the orchestra and the conductor had never heard anything like it before, they not only listened to it but paid attention as well. If anything, many noticed that it seemed that Octavia was actually… enjoying herself playing, even at the last moments. There was a strong passion for Beethoven’s playing too as he went tender one moment and thunderous the next, but never to the point where it got distracting, rather, it complimented the cello.

When he finally came at the last firework like notes, the Philharmonic sat there, dumbstruck. They turned to each other, not knowing where to draw the line between madness and genius. However, one voice spoke up, “Uh-huh, no way,” it was from Horseshoepin. “I refuse to believe he’s deaf!”

Getting out of his seat, he walked up to center stage. “I don’t know what you are, but there’s no way anyone or anything that could play that good and not be able to hear it!”

Ludwig pressed the earphones against his face. “Could you say that again?”

“You heard me,” he pointed a hoof at him, “This is obviously a sham.”

Beethoven quickly stood up, knocking over the small piano bench over. He was about to shout his objection until he felt something on his shoulder. It was Twilight’s aura.

“Sir,” she said as she pulled out a piece of paper, “I think that this certificate from the Ponyville hospital that sets down on paper, from three doctors of his deafness.”

“Let me see that,” Twilight did. He took hold of it to examine it carefully, even holding up to the light to see the watermark. Taking in a deep breath, he said, “Okay, let’s say for the sake of argument that, you’re right, this… thing, can’t hear without all of this stuff. Are you really saying all of that was really in his head or something?”

It was then, that Beethoven got an idea, “Actually sir, I think I can prove it, and as a matter of fact, I’ll make a deal with you. I maybe haven’t done this in a long time, I bet that if you could give me a theme, that without using these,” he took off the earphones, “or use my sight to prove that I can create music like Herr Mozart did. If I can, then you’ll be the one to perform my piano concertos.”

“So improvising while blindfolded?” the stallion raised an eyebrow. Turning to the orchestra, he asked, “What do you think everypony?”

“Who knows a sound bubble spell?” someone asked.

“I do,” Twilight raised a hoof.

“And who has a blindfold or a cloth or… something?”

“I’ve think I’ve seen one when I came in,” another member piped up.

Horseshoepin turned to him, “Okay then, if you can play that, even with the sound bubble spell over your head, I’ll believe you’re deaf, and I’ll play your music too.”

Ludwig didn’t respond.

They ended up using a small but dusty table cloth somepony found backstage to use. But before they could put it on, Frederic made Beethoven watch him play a simple foal’s song for him to improvise. Stepping back, the table cloth was folded over and placed over his eyes before Twilight surrounded his head in a violet bubble.

Hosreshoepin turned around, “And proof he isn’t deaf in three… two… one…”

Then from the piano, they’ve heard the same tune that Frederic played, and for a moment, everypony assumed that he’s just simply playing back the song. That was until Beethoven begun springing variations on a keyboard that he can’t see or hear. To everypony’s shock, the on the spot music was… flawless, as if he could see through the cloth.

The pianist craned his head over to Beethoven. He was hearing the impossible. A normal pianist, no matter how experienced, would have stumbled or messed up and try to correct the mistake in the same predicament. Yet, what he was hearing was as if it was done by a recording because of how smoothly each variation was without going back to the original beginning.

His jaw dropped, “Tha… That’s not possible.”

“Whoa, he’s good,” someone from the clarinet section commented.

“How is he doing that?” Another asked from the percussionist seat.

“Is there a speaker in the piano?”

Twilight lit up her horn to lift the lid to show that it was nothing but strings and hammers, and before anypony asked, she turned off the machine.

“I think we’ve might have found another Moztrot,” Sea Sharp said. “That’s really impressive.”

For Horseshoepin, however, all he could hear from the piano was his humiliation with each passing bar that made him look more and more like an idiot.

“Look at him go!”

“Seriously, how is he doing that?”

“Great and Powerful Trixie, eat your heart out.”

Yet, for Beethoven, it was a schizophrenic situation that not only can't he hear what he was playing, but he was in the dark too. He could feel the keys at his fingertips no doubt, but even when he played from the memory of what a piano sounded like, he couldn't be sure if he was pressing the right notes. For several minutes, he was trapped in a world of his own where his mind was in overdrive. It was a mental challenge for sure, it was like the first time he ever faced off in a musical duel again. For a moment, he felt that he was transported back not only to Vienna but in the past when he was famous for playing the piano. In the void, his mind filled it with memories of parties, of having aristocrats having him face off with another virtuoso, of the ladies that squealed and applauded at his mastery at the keyboard. Back to moments where friendships were forged, rivals were made, and where duchesses fell in love at the keyboard.

Minutes later, Ludwig played the last variation before he raised his hands to signal that he was done. Feeling the tingly feeling of Twilight’s magic off of him, he took off the cloth over his eyes to find, to his satisfaction, that the pony orchestra enjoyed what he did.

With a smug smile, he looked over to Horseshoepin, “I’ll make sure that she sends my concertos over to you to practice with.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” the conductor said. “Let’s get down to the voting – all those in favor of playing this guy’s music please signify by saying ‘Aye.’”

“Aye,” most of the members said as they raised their hooves, Octavia included.

“And those who are against say ‘Neigh.’”

“Neigh,” but they were few.

Twilight turned on the machine and placed the earphones back on his head. She went over to the microphone by the piano, “Good news Mr. Beethoven, they’ve just decided that they will play your music.”

“Good,” Ludwig nodded before turning to the orchestra, “when is your latest concert?”

Chapter 12: A Quiet Encounter in D Major

“How in the hay is he able to live like this?” Applejack muttered under her breath as dumped the scrap paper into one of the boxes. “Ah mean really, the pigs are much tidier compared ta him!”

It was the orange mare’s turn to clean up the barn once Mr. Beethoven was out. The Apple’s agreed that it’s best to make sure the barn turn guestroom was straightened out while the giant was away so they wouldn’t have to deal with him. However, even being about a week and a half since he appeared, it still boggles Applejack’s mind not only how quickly the barn gets messy, but how massive too.

“You’d think that he has wild parties here every night,” she grumbled as her attention turned towards the scattered bottles of her family’s hard apple cider. “At this rate, we’ll be running out before Cider Season kicks in.” Indeed, empty and partly drained bottles lay scattered on the floor. There was so much of it that she had to drag in a trashcan to store them all.

As she did so, she heard a soft voice, “Um… Excuse me?”

Applejack turned to the door to find her friend was poking her head in. “Hey Fluttershy, can Ah help ya any?”

“Not really,” she stepped in further, taking notice of the mess. “Oh my, what happened in here?”

“Beethoven happened,” the farm mare said as another bottle clank in the trash. “However, at least it’s not as bad as it was a couple of nights ago when he yelled at mah brother.”

“He did? Why?”

“Well, from what Ah know,” Applejack leaned against the can. “It was his turn to clean this up when he spotted a puddle over those pots is over there, but since there weren’t any towels around to soak it up, he used some of the paper to do it. Welp, Mr. Beethoven came in and started yellin’ at him, ‘cause he was usin’ the scrap paper that had somethin’ on it. He’d practically chased him out, throwin’ inkwells at ‘em.”

“Oh dear,” Fluttershy commented as she looked around the barn once more, “Is he like that every night?”

The orange Earth Pony sighed, “Ya know Shy, we’ve had some pretty tough guests in the past, but he really not only takes the cake but the whole bakery too!” she returned to the bottles, “Ta be honest with ya, Ah really hope that he moves out soon. Yet, at the same time, Ah pity the ponies that’ll be takin’ care of him. Ah hate ta says this, but he’s certainly the worst house guest we’ve ever had.” She returned her attention to her yellow friend. “Ah’ve just realized that Ah forgotten ta ask what ya came for.”

“I was going to ask if you’ve seen Mr. Beethoven anywhere,” she told him, “Because I wanted to do a checkup to see if he’s alright.”

“It’s actually amazin’ that he doesn’t get sick often living in this,” Applejack commented but answered. “The truth is, he left a while ago with nothin’ but papers and pencils in his huge pockets of his. Ah’m not sure where exactly he’s gone off to now, and Ah don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Do you think he’s somewhere in town?”

The farmer shrugged, “Maybe. If you do find him though, all Ah can advise ya, is ta be extremely careful around ‘em.”

“I know,” the yellow pegasus turned around. “Thank you Applejack, I’ll see you later.”

After saying their goodbyes, Fluttershy took to the sky until she was high enough to overlook Ponyville. “Now where could you have gone?” she asked herself as she started flying. She scanned over the streets and public spaces, over the park and peered through windows of the largest buildings big enough for the giant. The mare even asked some of her friends, but all of them concluded that they haven’t seen Mr. Beethoven all day. However, from Twilight, she knew that he hasn’t gone to Canterlot because he didn’t see any reason to go there that day.

Fluttershy’s attention turns towards the forests that surround the town, probably towards the woods where the giant emerged from. After several minutes of flying, she was about to move on until she spotted something from the edge of a lake. Taking a closer look, she found Ludwig lying up against a tree, skipping stones over the water.

Just so that she doesn’t startle him, she flew gently over the lake, getting into his line of vision before landing nearby.

Ludwig grunted as he pulled out his conversation book from his breast pocket, “What do you what? I’m a little busy.”

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to check up on you to see if you’re doing well.

The old man looked up at her, “Aren’t you that doctor that saw me several weeks ago?”

I’m not really a doctor, but I just good with animals Mr. Beethoven. I just wanted to see how you’re doing today.

“Terrible,” Ludwig stuffed his hand into his pocket and drew out some papers. “I’ve been trying to come up with the opening of my new symphony all morning. But I’m getting nowhere! I would have gone further if that careless excuse of a stallion hadn’t used it to wipe up ink with! I swear I’m surrounded by children on some days.”

You know, I’ve heard about that. It really was an accident after all.

When Beethoven read it, he put the papers aside, covering his face with his hands and sighed. “I had a brilliant idea of an opening of my symphony so I can know where to start. But now I don’t have it anymore, so thanks to him, I must work on the very beginning again. So far, all I’ve been able to come up with are just ugly cords!” Here, he grabbed one of the papers, crumpled it up and threw it into the lake.

Fluttershy stepped back as Ludwig fumed. But then a question popped into her mind before she wrote down her message and gently nudged the conversation book over to him.

Why are you out here for?

“Because I want to,” he said, tossing another stone into the lake.

You haven’t answered my question. Why are you out here away from everypony else?

Ludwig reached for another rock, “Because in nature, it’s one of the few places where I can think.” He tossed it, making it skip a couple of times across the water before sinking. “If I had my way, I would spend my life out here, wandering between the trees, over rocks and watching the waters like an animal. And if I actually have good ears, I would listen to the divine music that nature sings daily. I belong out here, not in some city or town that can’t understand what I’m trying to do.

"These woods, while still new to me, in a way remind me of home.” Fluttershy asked what did he meant, "In Vienna, there is a place called the Wienerwald Forest, and I've come to think of that place as the most beautiful place on earth. These trees and this lake are the closest things for home to me as there is. Among these woods, I feel like I'm home again."

What about parties? Pinkie has been trying to invite you to one for a while now.

“Never liked them,” Beethoven reached into his pocket for a clean sheet of paper and started drawing lines. “Could hardly relate to anyone in a room with a large crowd that expects a musician like me to be in the background, like the pieces he plays. I’ve always hated that. Even when it’s for my patrons or someone that has offered me free food, I’ve always hated playing for them like they expect me to be their performing seal.”

So you always felt alone in a crowded room?

Ludwig waved a hand, “Close enough,” and he proceeded to jot down some notes before getting frustrated, crumpling it up and tossing it into the lake.

Fluttershy looked rather thoughtful as the giant took another piece of paper and started scribbling. She wrote down her note and lifted it up to him, in which he raised his eyebrow at what he read.

I think I have an idea how you feel.

“How can you?” he returned to his writing, “You’re not hard of hearing, are you?”

For several minutes, Fluttershy wrote down her reply, take up several pages worth before she showed it to Beethoven.

Well… no. But I think I understand why you’re out here now because, in a way, I can relate to you. If anything, you remind me of… well, me when I was younger. I wasn’t all that good at flying when I was a filly that I was laughed at for being so bad at it. Then one day, I fell out of the sky and I landed somewhere out here where my eyes were opened to such wonders that I couldn’t imagine living from above. Since then, I’ve always found it more comfortable being out here, taking care of my animal friends then being with other ponies for a while. This is because I have a passion for feeding, healing, and giving lost animals the care they needed, and they in return are kind to me. You might say that being out here is like a second home too. And like you, I don’t like being in very large crowds or having to talk with somepony new. I know how hard and scary it is to meet someone that you don’t see you can connect with at first. That sometimes they don’t see you as any worth of their time. But one day, something changed that’s slowly helped me crawl out of my shell. What I needed, were some very good friends who take the time and effort to get to know me. Much like I’m trying with you, that is if it’s alright with you.

For a long time, Ludwig didn’t say anything as he read her note. But finally, he asked, “How well trained are you in music?”

I know a little. I sometimes sing.

“You’re a singer?” she nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Are you any good?”

My animal friends think so; they’ve always asked me to sing for them before they went to sleep.

“What do you sing – is it something popular?” Ludwig inquired.

Not really, most of the time it’s just… on the spot.

“So you improvise?” she nodded. “Does anyone know that you can not only do this but do this well?” To this, the pegasus looked down at her hooves, shaking her head. “Why not? If you have a talent, and you’re good at it, then not let others know about it?”

What if they don’t like it?

At this, Beethoven put down his notes, “Little miss, do you know why I compose, even when I can’t hear anymore?” To this, Fluttershy gave a curious look and shook her head. “You see, I never once ever thought about writing music for reputation or honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the real reason why I compose. I write to what I believe is good, even when others complain that they can’t understand it. For I make a virtue of making the beauty that only music can provide to make it timeless for me that what I write down now, will be just as wonderful as the day I play it.”

You know, you’re a very thoughtful creature, even kind when you want to be. I do wish that you can let ponies see this side of you. Especially to the ones that are trying to take care of you like the Apples.

“I’ll give you this,” Ludwig told her. “As clumsy as they may be, whenever they converse with me, I could be thankful that they’ve never once lied to me. At least the one good thing they all have, even that klutz of a stallion, they have good hearts – from their grandmother down to the little one.”

How do you know?

“In my experience, little Fräulein, anyone who tells a lie has not a pure heart and cannot make good soup.”

This made Fluttershy laugh.

You know, it would help them if you told them that you do appreciate all the hard work they’re doing for you to keep your room tidy while you’re away. After all, it’s only fair.

Ludwig sighed, “I… I suppose you have a point. I’ve been quite stressed in writing up my new symphony that my behavior has lost its control. That, and I've been feeling rather homesick to a degree.” He looked back at the written score he has, and muttered: “But if only I have a beginning, something great and loud to get everyone’s attention.”

Then a thought came to Fluttershy’s head as she wrote down:

Why does the beginning have to be big and loud? Couldn’t it be soft and quiet?

Beethoven looked on at her, perplexed, “Then how would you know if the symphony has started? That’s how all my symphonies have started, with something to catch one’s ear.”

It’s just a thought, sometimes when I sing; I start out very softly and let my confidence grow with it. Let those who are really listening pick up the beginning that sprouts out like a tree.

Ludwig stared at her words for a very long time, as if in deep thought. “How unusual,” he said at last. “No composer that I know has ever opened their symphonies like that. It’s such an odd idea little pegasus but… I’ll think it over.”

Anyway, I just want to do very quick check up on your current health and I’ll be out of your mane in no time. Also, thanks for having this chat with me.

“You have been very kind and patient,” he said, “For that; I’ll let you examine me because I do not acknowledge any other sign of superiority then kindness.”

Once Fluttershy had examined him and concluded that he was fine, she bid farewell to him before she flew off.

For Beethoven, he opened the conversation book up to the yellow pony’s suggestion in deep thought. After a while, he took out some clean sheet of paper and started drawing lines and drew the bass clef for when a solo cello began singing in his head. He marked the opening theme as: Adagietto, in pianissimo. Delicatamente, quasi come una preghiera.

In his mind, his imagination constructed an ancient monastery at night where the darkened chapel was lit by candlelight. A cello opened a tome in which the written chant was and began leading the brotherhood of strings. Softly, it recited a prayer to which Beethoven started taking dictation from it, "Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae, vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. Ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae, Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle."

From that one prayer, the rest of the cello and viola section sang together in one voice before the horns, bassoons and low clarinets too joined like a congregation. By the time Ludwig had gotten up from underneath that tree and headed towards the farm, he knew that he had his beginning of his tenth.

Chapter 13: First Symphonic Impressions in A Major

Author's Note

Phew! There, now if you all excuse me, I'm just gonna collapse right over there. (*CRASH*) I'm okay!

Chapter 13: First Symphonic Impressions in A Major

After weeks of rehearsals and sharp criticism from Beethoven later, the Canterlot Philharmonic were now ready for the premiere of Ludwig’s first and second symphonies, ready for the public to hear. Thanks to Twilight’s influence, she got the press to spread the word that orchestra will be presenting music from a different world for the first time in history, in a theater in the heart of Equestria. The fact that they’ve provided a picture of the composer in newspapers help drew curiosity from ponies that didn’t know what to expect from Ludwig’s music.

Yes, perhaps it was curiosity alone that had drawn a crowd, leading to a full house in the theater, much to the surprise and delight of the orchestra. Peeking from the side of the velvet curtain, Octavia looked out again to what she was seeing. Yes, there was the usual audience of much older ponies; however, there were some younger, college-age ponies that had sat down, chatting to those around them.

Her attention turned towards above the stage where her roommate was setting up a microphone hanging on the catwalk. Once she made sure everything was set, she climbed down and headed towards the machine for Ludwig. To which, the Cellist walked up to her.

“Vinyl, I want to say how much I appreciate you coming out here setting all of this up, considering that you canceled a gig for this.”

The DJ waved it off as she turned on the machine. After she done that, she wrote her a note.

After she read it, Octavia replied, “Yes, it is interesting that you’re manipulating sound, even if it’s for one. Speaking of which, have you seen Mr. Beethoven? He said that he would be here.”

The white unicorn shrugged before pointing towards the curtain.

“No, he’s not out there yet. Though it’s almost time for us to begin, I couldn’t find any sign of him. He said that he’ll be here. I mean, you would think that he would have shown up, especially when he wrote what we’re about to play.”

“They’re here!”

As soon as everypony on stage turned to the mare that announced that, they too heard a louder murmur from their audience outside. There were Awe’s and Ooh’s that were mixed with the gasps and shocked voices from behind the curtain. Octavia quickly went over to peek at what was going on.

Just on the other side of the stage where the headphones were was Mr. Beethoven had crawled his way into one of the lower box seats and sat as closest to the stage as he could. In which he was quickly joined by Princess Twilight as she sat next to him. There was polite applause, as the alicorn waved to them; Ludwig proceeded to put on the earphones around his head. Then another pony joined them, a white unicorn with an elaborate, violet manestyle.

“It’s seven o’clock,” their conductor said. “Let’s tune those instruments now before the curtain rises.”

While an announcer went on stage to give an introduction, Octavia took her place and tuned up her cello along. Instruments from the strings to the percussionist tried their best to hum along as their audience still chatted away. This took a minute until each and every member was certain that they were ready.

“Well,” Sea Sharp commented before the curtain parted. “Here we go everypony.”

Taking a deep breath, Octavia watched at the vial between them and their audience was parted. The lights over their listeners had dimmed while their lights have grown brighter. Their conductor trotted up to center stage, taking up the thin baton in her aura. After giving a bow to them and the princess, she turned her attention towards the orchestra and waited for a moment as everypony raided themselves for this new piece to begin.

The very first thing that the audience heard was a pizzicato of two notes that was held together by the wind and brass section before a moment of silence. This was repeated only a few times, getting louder until the percussionist welcomed the main theme of the opening movement. Strings hummed in harmony and counterpoint as the wind and brass give a kind of glow to the music, like a sunrise. For a moment, it sounded warm, inviting the listeners to stay to enjoy this light.

Then suddenly, a quicker variation took hold as the increasing crescendo lead to a much brighter, increasingly majestic sound that vibrated off the theater walls.

As the movement drove on, Rarity, who was sitting next to Twilight, leaned over to her. “It sounds like a late Moztrot, doesn’t it?”

Twilight nodded, glancing over at the human who had one hand firmly pressed against the headset and the other waving around as if he was conducting, she whispered back. “There’s some similarity to the sound of it.” She waited for a moment, “Yet, at the same time, it’s not quite Moztrot or Haydn. Its close but this still sounds rather unique.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Rarity returns her gaze back to the stage. “It’s as if he’s trying to strike a balance between the emotional and the graceful, but he’s having trouble finding it.”

Indeed, the music’s attitude shifts from bold notes one moment to gentle moments, yet, each instrument keeps moving to advance the other so that there’s never a dull moment. Complexity and simplicity danced together among the members of the orchestra, where the sublime and the excitement walked closely together for several moments. The lyrical and the virtuoso sang together in a song without words that progressed in every change of key.

But a few minutes later, the orchestra brought the finale of the movement by its closing cords. Ludwig looked over at the audience in which he saw many were stomping on the ground, looking pleased.

_*_

The fourth movement began as an invitation by its horns and strings as if they’re struggling to tune up before it quickly turned into the sound of a dance. It was a kind of quick dance that had reflected its enthusiasm of a folk song. Somehow, the music sounded like a celebration from an off country where strings sang and the horns kept the perpetual beat.

Beethoven however, could barely hear the soft moments, even with the headphones set on full volume and pressed against his skull. He looked at the audience for the who-knows-how-many time to pay attention to their reactions. Since they were at the last, short movement, he paid attention at the sea of expressions as many looked on with interested curiosity – while others tapped their front hooves to the rhythm from the orchestra.

However, he felt the vibrations of the last notes of his first symphony, in which he got an immediate reaction from the ponies. They were stomping their hooves, wore satisfied smiles, and from the microphone, he could barely make out some of them saying, “Bravo.”

Then the conductor turned around and announced, “We’ll be taking a ten-minute intermission in which we’ll proceed with the second symphony,” and with that, the curtain was closed.

Ludwig took off his earphones and turned to the two ponies next to him. “They’ve done a decent job,” he pulled out a conversation book. “What do you think?”

Twilight opened up to a blank page and wrote her thoughts, but before she could pass it back, Rarity asked for the book and wrote down her response too.

I thought it was pretty interesting. I really liked what you did with the opening and closing movements. They did sound at times like a lost Moztrot symphony at times, but you somehow gave the music a fresh perspective. –T

Not bad, I’d rather like it. As of what Twilight had said, it has some familiar sounds, but there were some bold moments that kept one’s attention. As of now, I’m very curious about how your next symphony is going to sound like since that was indeed a masterpiece. – R

Ludwig turned to Twilight, “That was because I was trying to imitate as my idol at the time. Back then, I had learned composition from Herr Haydn and I felt ready to write a symphony to prove that I was a serious composer. Although it did take a while to find someone who knows the business skills of promoting it in the first place since I’m always bad at it.

“Still,” he leaned over from the box seat. “At least they’ve enjoyed it so far. Let’s see what they’ll think of the second.”

_*_

“What do you think the third symphony is going to be like?” Alto asked Octavia while she plucked the loose hairs on her bow.

The cellist gulped down some of her water bottles, wiping the sweat off her brow from the heat of the lights. “No clue. If we’re really lucky, Mr. Beethoven’s symphonies won’t be as difficult as that introduction piece I’ve played for all of you. Celestia, he can make things really difficult if he wants to.”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” the Violist shrugged as she noticed somepony starting to trade their scores from the stands for the other symphony they're about to play. “You know, I don’t think I’ve asked this but, what did you think of the music so far?”

“It’s alright,” Octavia rosin up her bow. “While it’s quite nice to listen to, the second and third movement isn’t that memorable to me. However, I am looking forward to the next symphony, particular in the slower, second movement.”

“Yeah, I can see why,” the mare looked back at the curtain. “You know, this is gotta be the first time I’ve seen a full house like this, especially when it’s for this kind of music.”

“That’s because the one that wrote all this music, isn’t equine,” Octavia pointed out. “I mean, everypony knows that’s the reason why they’re even listening to this. It’s because that he’s different, the fact that he doesn’t look like anything we’ve ever seen, and the fact that he’s deaf is the only reason why we have an audience. Can you imagine if the composer that we’re playing is a pony and has perfect hearing, would anyone come?”

Alto hummed in thought, “I suppose you have a point. Still, for what we’re playing, it’s not that bad for what we got so far.”

“One-minute everypony!” someone cried before the orchestra scrambled back to their places.

The curtain parted once more and Sea Sharp walked on stage to the applause of the audience. She took a moment to give a bow to the composer before turning to the Philharmonic. When she saw that everyone was ready, she began conducting.

It started with two, theatrical notes as a sort of a “Ta-da!” before the wind section played on a Mozart like tune for a short while until the same opening notes interrupted, giving way to the idea of the strings and brass. Unlike the previous symphony, this movement seemed much more confident in establishing what identity it wants to portray. This time, the transitions of moods and attitudes are not only much more familiar but smoother as the instruments explore this musical fantasy.

“Seems much more dramatic this time around, don’t you think?” Rarity whispered.

Indeed, the violins and cellos had minutes in which they went into a heated debate while the wind instruments such as the flutes seem to hover above them. At other times, the clarinets seemed to sneak around the strings as if they were spying on them. Every so often, the horns would give out a noble theme that was accompanied by the flutes.

However, at the music went on, many ponies in the audience had started to check their watches as it went past the ten-minute mark. Beethoven already knew what they were thinking, and he wasn’t going to be surprised to find out that they’re going to complain that this second symphony was a bit too long. Nearly fifteen minutes in, the orchestra played the final ending chords before they moved onto the next movement.

Although Ludwig could barely hear it through the headphones, he already knew what they were playing. It was the very sound of nostalgia. He could hear the violins and horns in his mind as he remembered what was waiting back in Vienna. After all, he’s been gone for about a month now, he could only imagine the sheer panic that was going on in his home city at this moment. His most devoted of fanatics searching high and low, looking for him in places that he knew will never find him.

Then he remembered his friend Schiller. One of the very few people that could tolerate being in the same room as him. He’s the one who after all these years, even after he went completely deaf, that he still remained loyal despite the change of Europe, his never-ending change of address, or the change of what music can do. Yes, Schiller, the one who he set his poem to be performed nearly over a year ago and ended in a financial flop. Still, he remembered how often he visited him even when his hearing decomposed faster than he could compose the masterpieces. All those years of loyalty when others fade away, all reduced because of money.

Before the orchestra could begin on the third movement, his thoughts turned to the closest relative that he knows. His nephew Karl van Beethoven, he wondered what he was doing right now. That by itself was a frightening thought. After all, there was plenty to worry about since he tried to raise him to forget that… Schlampe of a mother that he tried to save him from – or at least, he hoped that he did. By the time he takes off the headphones, listening to the silence of the ever ringing. In the stillness of sound, he reflected the times he was raising him. Although he tried his best for several years to get his custody from his mother, twice, he compared how the boy was then, and what he is now.

Back then, he had hopes that he could shape Karl on the pillars of virtue, that he would bestow his musical gift to him by having teachers train him to play the piano. Yet… looking at what he is now, that he prefers to spend more time with his friends then him, that he owes debts, that he quit playing the piano, and even tried to see his mother several times despite court orders, he began to wonder if he’d messed up. How many times had he yelled at him again? How often has he chastised his behavior every time he came by? Did he ever cry and didn’t hear it?

Even more terrifying was one single thought that drove him to take out a sheet of paper and start composting: Did he become like his father to Karl? Oh, how ugly must the music of his temper sound to him? And with the thought it might have been so often, a double theme for a fugue came storming in.

_*_

While Beethoven worked on a new piece of a string quartet, the orchestra moved onto a grand and exciting dance. The strings almost seemed to leap while the wind instruments paint the background. Horns and percussion often gave the piece of playful power. It was almost like a fantastical ballet without dancers or scenery to look at, only to hear.

In the minds of those who were listening, it inspired fantasy for those to wonder what exactly this strange but childlike dance looked like. Although it was growing late in the evening, the audience stayed to listen to such a curious yet sophisticated music that jumped, ducked, tripped, fallen, gotten up, and glide through the air like a flock of sparrows by the sea. It was almost dizzy but interesting to hear.

But like all music, it too came to an end. When the last notes of the night were played out, the ponies stood up applauding. However, when they looked at the box where the composer was, he didn’t look up. His head was bent over as if concentrating on something. It wasn’t until the Princess Twilight that pulled on his sleeve did he look up. To this, the audience cheered, they stomped their hooves, waved their arms to let him know, that what they heard, was good.

Twilight had gotten the conversation book to write him a message.

That was great! The music was beautiful! Come, let’s go into the lobby and let’s see what they all think of it.

Soon, all three went their way towards the entrance of the theater to confront their audience. While they tried to show him of their approval, Ludwig couldn’t understand what all of them were saying. He turned to the alicorn and the unicorn, “What’s going on?”

Rarity flipped opens the notebook to a blank page, she wrote in it to condense what all these other ponies are saying.

They said they loved what they’ve heard! Some of them are proclaiming you to be the successor of Moztrot.

Beethoven held the message in his hands. For a long time, he stared at that last sentence. He didn’t notice that the crowded lobby went quiet, waiting for his response. Then finally, Ludwig looked up, he said “Thank you,” before he crawled out the door, and left the theater without saying another word with two ponies following closely behind him. Neither of those ponies took noticed, however, that as they walked down the street, that Beethoven had an extra shadow following close by.

_*_

A few days later, the Canterlot Philharmonic was gathered together to open a rather large package that came from Princess Twilight, when it was opened up, they found copies of the next symphony therein.

Sea Sharp was the first to draw out her copy of the score, “Whoa, it’s really thick.” She said as the others too grabbed their copies.

“What in Equestria?”

“Do you see bar thirty-six?”

“Look at all of these markings!”

“Is this some sort of joke?”

“Look how many pages there are in the first movement alone!”

Curious at the commotion, Octavia reached in and found her copy in the cello section. She flipped open over the score and quickly realized what has gotten the whole orchestra so worried.

When she saw what this symphony, this “Eroica,” only two words came to mind: “Bloody Tartarus.”

Chapter 14: New Expectations and Experiences in C # minor

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 15: The New Neighbor in B Major

Days later, after it’s been made known that Lyra Heartstrings had returned to Ponyville, Ludwig was walking alongside with Twilight towards his potential new (but still temporary) home in town. Beethoven was hearing the second movement of his tenth in the noonday sun. With a walking stick in one hand, he used the other to conduct the aristocratic melody that was going on in his head. His hand jotted eighth and sixteenth notes that were framed in a symmetrical minuet for the violins. He heard the elegant as they bounced from high on the scale before they danced downward. His mind started to wander off to the other strings and tried to put counter harmonies beneath until he had to stop because there were too many cords being piled up to where it didn't sound good, so he scratched it out.

They were heading towards the small apartment complex because it’s the first chance they’d get to see this open space for themselves, and determine if it’s worthy enough for the giant to stay in. With the blazing sun overhead, the alicorn leads the way towards the building that was close to the Quill and Sofa shop. It didn’t take too long to find the address of the place since it had a sign hanging off from the front that had a picture of a green lyre.

Twilight pulled on Ludwig’s sleeve to get his attention. “Let me,” she pointed to herself saying slowly, “talk with them,” before pointing towards one of the doors where the sign hung overhead.

The Princess of Friendship knocked on the door and waited for a moment until she heard hoofsteps. Before she could get the chance to be curious about what was going on, the door flew open. “Hey Twilight, long time no see,” the mint green unicorn pulled her in a hug. As she did so, she got a good look at the towering being behind her. “Oh… my…” she let go. Staring up in awe, she asked, “Twilight? Is that what I think it is?”

“Hey Lyra,” the alicorn stepped back, “I want you to meet my friend, Ludwig van Beethoven.”

Before Twilight could process what happened, not only did the unicorn quickly disappear, but there was a shout coming from behind. Swerving around, she found that the giant had fallen over with Lyra standing on his stomach.

“Oh Celestia this is amazing!” the unicorn practically vibrated in place. “I mean just wow! You’re a whole lot bigger up close and just look at these clothes! Why do you need so much to cover up? Are you going somewhere fancy? Have you-”

But she was quickly interrupted when Ludwig pushed her away, “OFF!” He swung his walking stick around in which Lyra yelped as she jumped back. Sitting up against a lamppost, he put his free hand around his stomach, “Hurensohn, dieses Ding ist schwer!” he swore under his breath.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Lyra tried to go up to him when she was suddenly paralyzed in a violet light.

Twilight brought her face to face, “Lyra,” she said sternly, “first, calm down. I’m not letting you go until you do.”

“What was that for?” Ludwig demanded as he stood up. “Why did your friend attack me?”

Twilight picked out his conversation book from his suit and quickly scribbled a message for him.

I’m so sorry about that. This is Lyra; I’ve completely forgotten that she has an obsession with Cryptozoology or the study of unknown animals. And by the way, this is the landlady. Give her a minute to calm down.

After the princess showed him the message, she turned to Lyra, “Look, I know this is really exciting for you and I do appreciate for giving him a space to live for a while. However, that was kinda rude of you to just jump on him.” Twilight then manipulate her aura to free her friend’s mouth.

“Well, can you blame me? There’s a creature that only exists in rare fairy tales that’s standing right over there. How can I not get excited?”

“Still, regardless of what he is, you should give him some personal space.” Twilight retorted, “Second, you do know that he can’t hear you, right?”

Lyra gave her a blank look, “Say what?”

“He’s deaf. Unless you write him a note or speak slowly to him, he didn’t hear a word you said back there. Besides, everypony seems to have known that by now, haven’t you heard.”

“Um… not exactly. I thought that he writes music.”

Twilight sighed, “He does. It may not look like it, but trust me, he does. And thirdly, as much as I appreciate you volunteering for this, are you sure you want to take this on. From what I know from Applejack, he’s not the best house guest in the world.”

“Oh please Twilight,” Lyra rolled her eyes. “Under this roof, I had from potential rock stars to divorce lawyers, how hard can it be?”

“So you’re absolutely sure about this?”

“Yeah, oh and Twi, you can let go of me now.”

“Promise you won’t tackle him?”

“I would cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye, except I can’t exactly move here.” Twilight rolled her eyes but released her. Looking back up at Beethoven, she added, “Still, I can’t begin to describe how exciting this is to even see a human up close.”

“Yes, I know. But first, let’s try this again. Get his attention first, unless you have a long message, face him and talk slowly.”

Lyra nodded as she nervously approached Ludwig. Now finding that she didn’t know what to say, she lifted her foreleg and waved for the notebook. Getting the hint, he did and she took it in her magic.

First of all, I’ve been really excited to meet you. I’ve never seen a real human outside of rare stories and pictures. Second, I want to welcome you to my humble apartment complex. If you want, I can show you the studio upstairs before we meet your neighbors.

“That’s what I came here for, to see the room.” Ludwig said, “Show it to me.”

Lyra grinned madly as she went to get the key before trotting over to the door that leads to the steps upward. For Beethoven, both the door and the hallway for the stairs were big enough for him to crawl upward from. Yet, once the three of them got through the door at the top, Ludwig was able to stand straight up without bumping his head against anything.

The room itself was quite large. It was a little bit bigger than the room he came to Equestria in since it covered a whole floor of the building. While it was a bit stuffy from a layer of dust and a touch warm, it did have some large windows much to Ludwig’s delight. Besides the windows and the thatched roof above him, it was quite bare. Below at his feet, there was a smooth wooden floor that was covered in dust.

Beethoven nodded, “Wunderbar. At last, a real room with space for me to walk around in. Yes, it’s big enough for my bed as well as for my things.”

While he was talking, Twilight wrote a message for him before showed it to him.

Now I know it’s not exactly luxurious, but I think with a little dusting and sweeping, this can be a good place for you to reside in for a while.

“I agree Fräulein. At least up here, I won’t worry about knocking myself out by the beams.” He turned to the landlord, “How soon can it be made ready to move in here?”

Lyra squeed, “If you want,” she said slowly, “I can have this place ready by tonight.”

“By tonight you say?” Ludwig turned to one of the larger windows. “Very good, I have a place to run to with all the money that the orchestra has given me today. Princess Sparkle, how soon can you have that moving party move my things here?”

“Yes!” Lyra pumped her hoof in the air.

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “But don’t you want to meet the neighbors first?”

“What?

Twilight jot down in his conversation book:

She’s asking if you want to meet your neighbors first.

“But I still have work to do.”

I promise that it won’t take long, at least a few minutes at most just to say hello.

The three of them made their way back downstairs, in which Beethoven had to climb out backward for fear of falling over and getting stuck. Once they got out, the landlady went through the door that she came out of and a minute later she returned with a cream-colored mare with a pink and blue mane with curls at the ends.

Lyra asked for the conversation book to write in which she wrote an introduction.

This is Sweetie Drops, but I just call her Bon Bon. She works at The Candy Corn as a confectioner, which means her job is to make sweets. Bon is also living with me.

When Ludwig read the message and asked, “So are you two like those musicians on the other end of town? Like Octavia and her friend?”

The two of them glanced at each other before the one called Bon Bon snatched the pencil and wrote in her very short message.

Something like that.

“Ah, now before I forget, are there any maids in this town? The rooms I stayed in tend to get very messy if left to myself.”

This time, it was Twilight’s turn to write in the book.

I’ve already sent Celestia a message of sending in a maid here, to make sure things are straightened out when you go out on your walks. She'll be here by tomorrow.

“Good,” Mr. Beethoven nodded. “Also, just to give a friendly warning, I prefer not to be disturbed when I’m working, and to expect some noises coming from above your heads.”

Bon Bon looked over to Lyra in confusion, in which she shrugged.

After the candy mare said that she has to go run a few errands, the landlady, the princess, and the giant moved on to the last neighbor whose door was on the other side. After Lyra knocked on the door a couple of times, it was answered by a gray pegasus with a blond mane and the strangest eyes that Ludwig has ever seen.

“Oh, hey Derpy,” Lyra said. “I didn’t think you’d be here already.”

“Didn’t have to go to Canterlot today,” the pegasus said before one of her eyes rolled upwards to the giant standing nearby. “Hey, he looks familiar.”

“Ms. Hooves, this is Mr. Beethoven, he’s going to be moving into the studio upstairs.”

“Really?” her head looked up at him, “Hold on a sec.” She went back inside for a moment before a unicorn filly came out with her, “Dinky, this is the new neighbor that’s moving upstairs.”

The dull purple filly looked up at him before ducking behind her, “Mom, that’s the crazy guy I was talking about!”

“Sweetie, what did I say about judging others?”

“This is different! Have you even heard what he’s been doing at the Apples?”

“What’s going on?” Beethoven asked, “What are they saying?”

Lyra wrote him a note.

Just a little family dispute, nothing to worry about, Derpy is one of the mailmares in town, and that’s her daughter Dinky. They’re known in making muffins, so expect for a whole batch to be at your doorstep by the time you come back.

“Well then,” Ludwig tipped his hat, “Good day ladies.” With that, Mr. Beethoven turned and headed towards another part of town.

_*_

Hours later, Twilight had organized a moving party to move all of Ludwig’s things to the studio. Not to say that there weren’t a few challenges along the way such as figuring out how to get the bed-frame and the legless piano up on the second floor. Yet, the only one that seemed to be missing from all of this was Beethoven himself.

“Where is he anyway?” Spike asked as he carried a box full of his manuscripts up the stairs. “Does he know that we’re moving all of this in?”

“He was here to inspect the studio himself,” Twilight said as she carried a box of his clothes. “I’ve no idea where he could have gone off to.”

By now, the two of them have reached the top of the stairs where about half of the moving party was concentrating on getting the heavy wooden bed-frame through one of the windows. They’ve already gotten the handicapped piano up there and set it in the middle of the room at this point. One of the ponies noticed Twilight entering, “Uh, Princess,” one of the ponies asked: “A little help if you please?”

The alicorn was happy to assist us with her magic, help lift the frame up and through the window, in which the other ponies guide it to settle it in a corner of the room.

One of the ponies, Thunderlane, wiped his brow, “Phew! Is that it?”

“I think so,” the dragon assistant said as he placed his box down, “Unless we’ve forgotten something.”

Rose Luck, meanwhile, looked out the open window in which she spotted something coming down the street, “Hey, the giant is back! And what’s with all the trucks?”

Curious, the entirety of the moving party leaned out the window to see what the mare was talking about. They saw Mr. Beethoven in the lead, and behind him were two trucks being pulled by a couple of stallions, both of the carts they were pulling had on a logo of a keyboard.

Twilight flew out the window and went up to him, “What is all this?” she asked him face to face.

“Something for me,” he said. Turning around to face the drivers of the carts, he told them, “It’s this one here, on the top floor.”

“Of course,” one of the drivers sighed.

The Princess of Friendship was about to ask what exactly did he get, but decided to wait to find out for herself. Both of the trucks pulled over and the drivers unhitched themselves and went to open the back. Twilight saw what was in them and immediately snatched Beethoven’s conversation book.

Please don’t tell me that you’ve bought three pianos!

“I did,” Ludwig said, “Two without legs and one with, for that is for whenever I have guest over.”

Did you honestly spend all your bits on three pianos!

When told that he did, Twilight’s jaw hit the ground.

Are you insane? What you got from the orchestra was enough to last you for a couple of months and you spent it all on these?

“I never once said that I was good with money.”

“But… you… how can…” it was with Twilight’s mixture of shock, anger, and low tolerance for stupidity that Spike step in to pull the Princess away by her tail.

Spike looked up at the moving party from the window, “I’m just gonna take her aside to make sure she’s calmed down. We’ll be right back.”

However, with one look at the pianos being unloaded from the trucks, Thunderlane summoned up the collective thoughts of the moving party: “Oh Ponyfeathers.”

_*_

Dinky couldn’t sleep. Not because of the hoofsteps that trampled overhead of the moving party, that ended some time ago. Rather, it’s because of the noise that is happening right over her bedroom. It was the sound of one of Ludwig’s pianos and the new neighbor was howling like an injured animal. Even when she tried to put her pillow over her head, she could still hear the discorded music penetrating through her ceiling.

It was then that she heard a knock on the door before her mother opened it, “Dinky? Are you asleep?”

With a frustrated grunt, the young unicorn filly sat up, “Are you kidding? With that noise going on,” she then rubbed her eyes. “What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly midnight,” Derpy walked over to her daughter’s bed. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“I don’t know if I can get any sleep at this point mom,” she flopped back onto the bed. “He’s been going at this since for hours now, what’s he doing?”

“Don’t know,” the Pegasus sat on the bed, “But you have to remember from what Lyra said. He can’t hear all the noise he’s making because his ears don’t work.”

“But why does he have to come here?”

“Something to do with how big the studio upstairs is I guess. It’s pretty much the only place in town that he could fit in without bumping his head.”

Dinky once again put her pillow over her head, “Mom, make him go away.”

Derpy sighed before one of her eyes looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t think he’s doing on this just because he’s being mean about it. After all, you know that he writes music, don’t you?”

“Yes I know,” her daughter then pointed an accusing hoof towards the ceiling. “But do you really call that music?”

“Sweetie, I know it’s hard for you. But think for a moment what it’s like in his horseshoes. Can you try to imagine what it’s like not to hear anything? Not the wind blowing or the bells on the clock tower, or the laughter of friends, the voices of your family, or even that piano. Don’t you think it might be frustrating for anypony, and… really sad?”

Her daughter pulled off her pillow, looking up in disbelief, “Sad?”

“I mean. Coming from somepony that could barely see, I know pretty well what it’s like to be as someone that everypony thinks you’re broken.”

There was a pause between mother and daughter.

“Mom, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay my little muffin,” she patted her head. “You just have to be patient with someone like Mr. Beethoven. I’m not saying that this will be easy living with a neighbor like him. But I think that without his hearing, it can get rather lonely at times. I’ll tell you what; I’ll have a word with the landlady before I head off to bed. Okay?”

Then suddenly, all went still from up above. For a moment, everything was quiet, but there were no steps to indicate that he moved. Both mother and daughter looked at each other in confusion.

“Or, maybe not,” Derpy said standing up, “Hopefully he’s just going to-”

Whatever Dinky’s mother was about to say was quickly cut off as the piano started back up again. This time, instead of chaotic and disjointed chords being slammed down, it was replaced by a kind of fantasy. Notes now cascaded down into the room like a waterfall in the filly’s bedroom.

“You know what mom,” Dinky said, “Could you wait for a while? I think I might wanna listen to this.

Chapter 16: Complaints in D # minor

Author's Note

Not sure if it's any good, but here you go.

Chapter 16: Complaints in D # minor

Lyra and Bon Bon had sat down for breakfast by the time that Ludwig was pacing around above their heads. The candy maker was reading the newspaper while the unicorn was spreading marmalade on a piece of toast. As she took a bite, Bon Bon said aloud, “Hey Lyra, take a look at this in the advertisements.”

The unicorn took hold of the paper in her aura, “Where?”

“It’s underneath the shampoo add, do you see it?”

She did, “Huh… the prices for radios have gone down a bit, have they?”

“Yeah, they were about two hundred bits last month, but now it’s half that.” Bon Bon turned to her cereal. “If it keeps dropping at this rate, do you think we might be able to afford it?”

“Maybe the price could be reasonable by Hearths Warming,” Lyra gave the paper back to her. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting idea, to have a gadget like that in the house?”

“We could probably catch up with those rich ponies that already own them. Besides, it would probably be nice to listen in to something to drown out whatever he’s doing.” She pointed a hoof towards the ceiling.

“Well… sure,” Lyra said, “But it’s not like he can’t play anything good himself. I mean, we’ve probably heard some pretty good piano music whenever he actually plays it.” Then she looked up in thought, "Say, Bonnie, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you think the upstairs is haunted?"

To this, Bon Bon raised an eyebrow, "Like ghosts or something?"

"Well yeah," she nodded. "I mean, apart from his stomping and playing music, did you ever pick up some whispering too?"

The Candymare shrugged, "Not really, I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary as of late."

Lyra looked up at the ceiling in thought, trying to change the subject. “Do you think that all humans are like him, or is he just the one?”

“Huh?”

“What I mean is, are all humans deaf or is it just him?”

Bon Bon groaned, “Not this again.”

“What? There’s a real human right over our heads that, despite his condition, has the capability of playing well. Besides, if what those critics say about his first two symphonies is true, he might have some real talent in writing music. Kinda makes you wonder if humans have a strong culture around music or something. Maybe he might know a thing or two about the instruments we use like my lyre or-”

The landlady’s train of thought was suddenly derailed as they heard a splashing sound right above them, and instantly the two ponies swiped their food away before a rain shower descended upon the kitchen table.

“Ugh! Again!” Bon Bon looked up in annoyance. “Why does he keep doing that? He knows there’s a bathroom up there to do this!”

“Maybe it’s a human thing,” Lyra said sheepishly while the Candymare looked at her with a sharpen gaze. With a sigh, the mint green unicorn put away her breakfast. “Okay, fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

“That’s gotta be like the sixteenth time this week alone!” the Earth Pony complained. “Does he know what that does to the floor?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Lyra said as she walked out of the apartment. Closing the door behind her, she turned around to nearly run into somepony. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“No, it’s fine,” Octavia said. “Aren’t you the landlady here?”

“Yeah?” she raised an eyebrow, “why?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Beethoven; I need to speak with him.”

“Funny, I was about to go up to him myself to talk with him.”

The two of them went over to the door that leads to the second floor. Since the front door was unlocked, meaning that he was awake, the two of them went through and up the stairs to the other door at the top. There they found Beethoven; his shirt was off and tied at his waist drying his head that was dripping with water.

“Oh my,” Octavia gasped as she saw what state the room was in. Although Ludwig had by now moved in for little over a week, the floor had scattered music sheets and piles of dishes lying all over the place. Besides the three legless pianos, she noticed that there was a puddle of what she hoped was water that was nearest to them.

Lyra went up to him and tugged on his trousers, “Huh?” Ludwig turned around. “Ah, the landlady and Octavia, what are you doing here this early in the morning?” He walked over to the only standing piano and offered them the conversation book.

The unicorn picked it up and wrote down a note for him.

First of all, what happened to the maid that Twilight had sent you?

“I fired her,” he said as he untied the sleeves of the shirt that was around his waist and went over to the box where his clothes are. “A few days ago, I came back home to find that she not only had stuffed my boots with my music, but she made my other shirts too stiff and washed off a piece of my symphony off the walls without so much as copying them. If you want to get me a new maid, make sure the next one doesn’t disregard whatever I wrote.”

Lyra continued:

I’ll make an urgent note to Twilight about that.

Secondly, I’ve been given complaints from everypony downstairs about your behavior. You play too long into the night; make noise in the morning, and not to mention that you keep dumping water on my kitchen table! If you’re going to live here, could you at least show some courtesy to everypony below?

“Well forgive me if I happen to work harder so that I happen to miss my real home,” he said as he pulled out a shirt.

This has nothing to do with work, you already know the rules about playing loud music past ten o’clock in the evening and to dump that water over your head in the bathtub! We don’t try to bother you since we try to leave you alone, but you haven’t left any of us in peace. I really do want to let you stay here, but if this keeps up, then I’ll force myself to take up action if this continues.

“Call it a force of habit,” he said as he buttoned up. “I don’t know if I can trust that bathroom anyway, with all your newfangled complicated pipes that I have no idea where it all goes.”

Lyra facehoofed, “Is that why it smells like an open sewer in here?”

“What?” Ludwig asked.

The unicorn wrote down a quick message.

I’ll tell you what, as long as you use the bathtub from now on to dump water over your head, I’ll be sure to tell Princess Twilight about the maid problem. Deal?

“Don’t worry, I’m about to go out for my walks anyway to compose.” Mr. Beethoven then turned to Octavia, “So what are you here for?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Octavia said to Lyra, “Might I borrow this?”

Once the conversation book was passed to her, the landlady went downstairs while the Cellist wrote her message.

I’ve actually come on behalf of the orchestra Mr. Beethoven. To put it short, it’s about the third symphony you’ve given us and the piano concertos you’ve assigned to Mr. Horseshoepin.

“Funny you should mention it,” Ludwig said as he tied a cravat around his collar. “I was planing to go up to Canterlot myself about the matter. How is it coming along?”

We’ve been going your symphonies and the fourth piano concerto for over a week now and I do want to ask you this: Are you trying to make life a little more difficult for the rest of us? For starters, the third symphony alone is massive! Not to mention that the mood keeps changing all the time and we have arguments on how this thing is supposed to sound like. There are so many markings in the score that it’s extremely difficult to read, much less to keep it at the right tempo you’ve dictated. And don’t get me started on what you’re putting my pianist friend through! Our instruments are barely holding together after each rehearsal!

To top it all off, do you have any idea how difficult it is playing this music? I had to explain to my friend Vinyl that it’s like playing “Dragon’s Mare,” “Faster Than Light,” “Dark Souls,” “Mega Mare 9,” “Battlefrogs,” all at the same time, on expert mode, upside down, blindfolded – yet, that is only the training to how difficult playing that symphony is.

“I don’t know what you mean by these names down here,” Ludwig pointed at the last paragraph. “But if I understand what you’re saying, you find my symphony very difficult?” She nodded, “I thought I was told that you were the best?”

“We are,” Octavia said slowly.

“So are you telling me that you can’t play it?”

All I’m saying is that this music is extremely difficult. Don’t get me wrong Mr. Beethoven; we’ve come to the consensuses that what you’ve written is epic, and pioneering. But it’s so hard to play.

By now, Ludwig was putting on his waistcoat, “Tell your orchestra to play it exactly as I have written it. All the notes that I have written are exactly as where they need to be. Besides, I’m letting your friend play my piano concertos anyway for when he tried to make a fool out of me.”

Look, the point here is that we need you in Canterlot now so you can sort out the mess that’s going on in that theater. Besides, this may be the only time you’ll be able to hear it.

“What do you mean?”

I mean that there’s something that we’ve just found out yesterday that does require your attention. Since our Memorial Day is coming up next week and given the theme of the symphony, Celestia herself is inviting the orchestra to premiere it at the palace before her, Prince Shining Armor, and a good portion of the Royal Guard and their families. Since we’re not exactly prepared, it’s gotten everypony really stressed about the whole situation. Simply put, we need your help.

“But why would this be the only time that I’ll be able to hear it?” Beethoven inquired as he put on his overcoat and hat. “Won’t your friend have the hearing machine ready by the time of the premiere?”

Octavia shook her head.

She’ll be in Los Pegasus by then. There are openings during our rehearsal week, but we can’t agree on what this new music is supposed to sound like. We need you to come over today to sort this thing out.

Sighing, Ludwig put on his hat, stuffed his coat with paper, pencils and the conversation book and picked up his walking stick, he said, “Very well Fräulein, to Canterlot.”

_*_

Even when Beethoven couldn’t hear it, there was anxiety ringing inside the theater. Ludwig could read the nervousness off of their faces as they looked through the score one more time. Some of them were either tuning their instruments or making sure that what they’re playing won’t break as some of them have.

There on a music stand right next to the conductor’s laid a pair of headphones resting with a wire running off backstage. Overhead there was the familiar black microphone that dangled like a piece of fruit from a tree. No doubt that the DJ had already set this up.

“Giant’s here,” somepony from the horn section said as Ludwig and Octavia climbed up onto the stage.

Before Beethoven could sit down, he noticed that something was missing from the orchestra, he turned to the conductor, “Where’s the third horn?” he pointed to the brass section.

Sea Sharp said slowly, “Why would we need a third horn player for?”

“It’s for the dance in the third movement,” he said. “I had it written specifically for that. You can’t play this symphony without it.”

Octavia tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, “Why not we just play through the first movement first?”

“Play the movement first?”

She shook her head, “First movement, as a start.”

Ludwig eventually sat down and looking over off to the side of the stage, saw a white unicorn with all of her gadgets giving him a nod. After putting on the headphones over his skull, he told them, “Begin.” With that, the conductor raised her baton and the orchestra readied themselves for the musical trek.

Beethoven listen intensely for the first few seconds of it until he suddenly pulled the earphones off his head, stood up and yelled: “STOP!” The Philharmonic quickly died down, “What was that?”

“We’re sorry sir,” one of the ponies said. However, Ludwig asked what he said before putting his headphones back on. “I said we’re sorry maestro, we’re trying-”

“Don’t apologize!” Beethoven snapped, “Don’t give me petty excuses! I was told that you’re the best, but what I picked up was the exact opposite!” Ludwig sat back down, taking a deep breath he said, “Obviously, there’s much work to do and we have very little time. So to begin with, give me the first two chords.”

They did, and Ludwig shook his head, “Again, louder.” They tried, “Louder still.”

The conductor looked over at him, “But sir, we don’t play louder than that.”

“Are you telling me that this orchestra is incapable of producing a thunderclap as it supposed to be?”

“Of course we can play it,” a stallion in the percussionist section called out.

“Spielen sie dann für die Liebe Christi!”

Even though nopony in that theater had any idea what he just said, one pony that was playing the clarinets nervously raised a hoof, “Excuse me, but couldn’t we take it slower this time?”

“Absolutely not,” Beethoven adjusted the headphones. “The very start is a summons, one that cannot be slow, but urgent.” Putting both ears over his head, he said only one word: “Again.”

So the orchestra readied itself for the first two, thunderous chords.

Chapter 17: Eroica in B b minor

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 18: Beethoven’s Nightmare in F minor

Author's Note

Für diejenigen, die Deutsch sprechen: Ich entschuldige mich demütig im Voraus für die schreckliche Fehler in Grammatik, die in Ihrer eigenen Sprache getan wird. Da es klar ist, dass ich nicht Ihre Muttersprache sprechen kann oder zu schreiben, hatte ich für die Zwecke dieses Kapitels auf "Google Translate" zu verlassen. Sollten Sie Fehler finden, bitte, haben Sie keine Angst, mich zu korrigieren.

Chapter 18: Beethoven’s Nightmare in F minor

“That went better than I thought, Your Highness,” one of the Lunar guards commented.

The Princess of the Night nodded, “I wholeheartedly agree! That symphony was full of surprises and catchy tunes! At long last, there’s a classical piece that hasn’t driven me to sleep.” It was already past midnight and the members of the Canterlot Philharmonic were now on their way home to get some sleep. For the moon alicorn, the exciting music was still ringing in her head as her guards and their families rested in the dining hall.

Her guard laughed, “I know, if more classical music was like that, then I would give more all the more reasons to buy their records. I thought it sounded like something out of a soundtrack of a movie.”

“Oh! Yes, I can indeed visualize that being in an epic motion picture! Such that would capture the blood pumping thrill of the old warfare as I knew it. Whoever this Beethoven is, he certainly obtained the very impression of the heat of battle. Speaking of which, where is he anyway?”

“I thought he already went back to Ponyville.”

“Did- ah, that’s right,” Luna looked at the time, “It’s already two in the morning. I suppose that he might be asleep…” the princess then trailed off as an idea formed in her head. “Actually, I think I can meet him at this time.” She turned to her guard, “If you would excuse me, I think it’s about time I tend to my dream duties.”

“As you wish Your Grace,” he bowed as the Princess exited the dining hall.

Luna headed towards her room from one of the spires of the castle. Once she entered her secluded realm, she walked into her chambers towards a mirror that was about as tall as her. To a normal pony, that even if they went near it and touch the glass, it would be just another mirror. For Luna, however, it was a gateway that helps perform one of her duties. Her horn light up, she enveloped her whole body in the light of the full moon before she passed through the glass and into the dream world.

Once she was in, Luna was truly in her element. In the dreamscape, she could go to any place in the world in an instant to visit anyone who was asleep. Behind the looking glass, she freely moves through walls and rooms like a spirit, traveling at the speed of shadows through the land over a realm of stars below her. Each light in a variety of colors was a creature that was dreaming.

She flew over to a nocturnal Ponyville where she began her search for the composer. Of course, Luna had to step into Twilight’s dream for a moment to ask her for directions of where Ludwig was residing in. But once she had an idea where she was going, she glides over to where the studio was.

Not to say that she had to stop temporarily as she took care of the passing green, deep violet, and scarlet night terrors along the way. Luckily for her, there were only a few hoofful on that street. She was able to make it over to the apartment within under an hour.

“This seems to be the place,” Luna said as she approached the outline of the building. On the ground level, she saw four stage lights behind the walls. All of them were in bright pastoral colors of pink, light green, blue and yellow. Above, however, where the place that Beethoven was residing in, she noticed something that concerned her.

Not only was Ludwig was asleep, but the light of his dream was not a pleasant one. It was in a dark ruby color that to the Moon Princess knew exactly what it meant.

Beethoven the giant was having a nightmare.

Flying up to the scarlet light, Luna wasted no time to investigate what was going on. With a spell to unlock Beethoven’s mind, she tore open a door for her to slip through. On the other side, she found that everything was completely dark. Almost like a void except for the one window not too far away.

Curious, she cautiously approached the window to where she could hear voices coming from it as she drew near. Though the glass, she saw three solid shadows that look like how Ludwig was described to her. The outlines suggested clothing and wigs, all of them were sitting around at a piano, each clutching a dark green bottle that shines in the candlelight.

“Ludwig,” a drunken voice said loudly that apparently came from a different room. “Aufwachen und spiel für uns etwas Schönes!”

“Nein Papa.” A faint voice replied, although, to Luna’s ears, it almost sounded like a colt’s voice. “Es istzu früh.”

“Ich sagte aufstehen jetzt du fauler Bastard!” the other voice roared. This was followed quickly by the sound of a slap and something falling on the floor. “Get up Junge! Oder wollen Sie mir, Sie auf dem Klavier zu ziehen?”

“Aber ich bin müde,” the little voice sobbed.

“Was ich Ihnen sagte, zu weinen?” This was followed by a shout as something was being dragged across the floor. Soon, Luna saw another shadow that came into view that was dragging a smaller human by the hair. This one was in a nightgown, and his arms clench the hand that was dragging him in pain.

“Papa! Lass los!” the little human screamed as he was forcefully taken towards the keyboard.

Even though the moon princess had no idea what they were saying, she could tell by the tone of their voices and the sounds she was hearing to understand that she was witnessing abuse first hoof.

“Komm,” the silhouette that dragged the boy in said as he took a bottle with his free hand. “Nicht schüchtern Junge. Spielen Sie uns etwas nett und süß.”

The boy tried to wipe the tears away with his white sleeve and even sniffed before his tiny fingers touched the keys. But when he tried to press them, however, Luna didn’t hear a single sound coming out from the instrument. And it seemed that the boy noticed this too as he looked down in bewilderment. He tried pressing some other keys but only got the same result.

For a moment, he paused for a little too long.

“Warum hast du aufgehört?” the one that drags him into the room said.

“Ich denke, das Klavier gebrochen Papa ist.”

“Es klingt wie ein Klavier zu mir!”

“Aber ich kann nicht hören, was ich spiele,” the boy pleaded, “wirklich.”

To this, he got a smack from the back of his head to the laughter of the other shadows. “Machen Sie nicht so dumme Ausreden Ludwig!” it yelled. “Wenn ich etwas Musik spielen hören wollen, spielen die verdammte Musik!”

“Aber Papa-”

“Jetzt!”

Frighten, the boy placed his hands back onto the keyboard of the instrument. For a while, neither he nor Luna could hear a single note from it, as if there were no strings in it at all. Yet, somehow the other shadows sway to the silence of the mute piano as if they could hear what was going on.

But then, out of the stillness, came a thunderous, discorded cords that screeched like iron nails on a chalkboard. At the sudden sound, the boy jumped in his seat, and the shadows stopped swaying.

“Was war das?” the shadow nearest to him demanded.

“Warte ab! Papa, tut mir leid! Da war ein Fehler!”

From the shadow, it produced something whip like in its inky hand and raised it over its head. “Nein!” the boy cried out, covering his head. Luna, however, had seen enough.

She immediately summoned a spell in which not only broken the window but forcefully pushed the shadow that threatens to hurt the boy out of the way. The silhouette flew clear across the room, banging against the wall. The other shadows recoiled as Luna entered through the room, spreading her midnight wings open, her horn glowing brightly as her moon. The drunken beings took hold of their bottles and chucked them at her, only for those bottles to be stopped short in a blue aura, being thrown back at them.

With the glass crashing over them, not only did the shadows shatter, but even the very room was breaking as well like cracks in a mirror. The one that held a shadowy whip charged forward at her, Luna reached after the creature in her magic, to her surprise found it more solid then she’d expected. “You will not harm this child,” she hissed as she took the whip in her own magic. Only finding that it wasn’t a whip at all, it was a belt. “Begone!” with a crack at the black fabric against the silhouette, the world around her, the piano and the cowering boy had shattered all around them.

Luna lit her horn once more to fill in the void with something pleasant. She picked out a place from Ludwig's mind that was the most peaceful. From there, the dreary room faded away to a lakeside by a forest in the brightly lit moon. The princess’s attention now turned towards the boy who was still shaken from what transpired.

Lying on her stomach in the grass, Luna said, “I do apologize for meeting you in such circumstances. But I can assure you, nopony can harm you now… Ludwig, isn’t it?”

The boy looked up from underneath the piano. “How did you know my name?”

The blue anicorn’s expression brightens, “Then I assume that you are Ludwig van Beethoven; the composer that wrote that marvelous symphony at the palace with all its battles, marches and dances?”

He crawled out from underneath the piano, “Symphony? Wait…” the boy went into deep thought. “I think I remember something like that… There was an orchestra that played my third to a… sun princess.”

“Ah! That must be my elder sister you’re talking about,” she smiled. “My name is Princess Luna Everfree, co-ruler of Equestria, raiser of the moon and stars, protector of dreams- and I am humbled in thy presence.” She bowed her neck over to him. “Again, please pardon the intrusion, but I think I have saved you from an awful nightmare just a moment ago.”

“Nightmare?” he blinked before looking around. “You mean… I’m dreaming?”

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “Though I am rather curious about the nature of the night terror I’ve saved you from. Do you happen to know what was happening back there?”

Little Ludwig looked over at the piano. “I was home… the home of my youth. Father must have come back with his friends from the tavern when he woke me up.” He then looked at her, “How much did you hear?”

“I confess that the language both you and your father were speaking was one that I’m not aware of. What was going on?”

“He wanted me to play again,” he said. “Father wanted me to play something nice and sweet to listen to. But when I started to play, I couldn’t hear the piano at all!” The boy then pressed some of the wooden keys, in which, to his relief, did make a sound. “Even when I told Papa- I’m sorry, father that I couldn’t hear it, he wouldn’t listen and told me to play anyway. But I think I’ve hit the wrong notes because he was angry again and was about to hit me with his belt.” Ludwig looked around his surroundings once more, “I... I think I know this place. These woods and this lake, is this Heiligenstadt?”

“I wouldn't know,” the princess told him. “I looked into your mind for a place that was calming, more tranquil than that home you were in. To reset your dream to be set at a place where you were at peace.” she glances upward, “But I do see why you would have chosen this place. Especially on such an untamed sky like this, it is very pretty.”

As Ludwig too looked up, beholding the countless points of light hanging over them like millions of candles with one large moon above them, Luna inquired, “I was told that you were a giant.” She said, “But looking at you in this dream, you appear to be much smaller than I expected.”

“Small?” Ludwig asked as he looked down at himself. His eyes went wide as he lifted his hands close to his face, “Wait… I know these hands… I didn’t think of it before, but these were my hands when I was a child!” He quickly felt his face, “My God! I’m a child again… a-and I can hear again!”

“Ah, that explains it then,” Luna put a hoof underneath her chin. “Often times in dreams, we visualize ourselves in ways that are impossible to be made real.”

Ludwig turned his attention towards the piano, put his hands on the keyboard to play a musical scales before covering his mouth. Luna got up to see that the young Beethoven was forming tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Ludwig answered, “Nothing. It’s just… I can’t tell you how happy that, even in a dream, I can hear again.”

“Since I have your ears,” the princess said, “I want to tell you that; again, I have heard your third symphony at the palace in which I found it glorious. The music I and my guards have heard was something that reminded me of the exciting tunes of my youth. I came into your dream Mr. Beethoven to thank you for writing such a thing that brought some happy memories.”

Ludwig smiled, “Thank you. That’s very kind for you to say that,” he said before looking up at the moon. “Since you’ve saved me from my father, can I interest you playing you a little something – as a way of saying thank you?”

“It would be an honor, Mr. Beethoven,” she said as she sat down next to him. “Besides, I still got plenty of time on my hooves. You may begin when ready.”

Beethoven placed his young hands on the keys, “You know, that moon up there,” he said. “It reminds me of someone that I once knew long ago. Someone who was very kind to me. Someone… beautiful.”

As he looked up at the moon, he paused for a moment before his hands gently pressed the keys. Luna listened as a simple; fantasy like melody developed that was so lovely, that even the stars overhead seemed to pause to listen. Luna couldn’t blame them, it was rather charming if she say so herself.

Chapter 19: Corrections in E b Major

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Chapter 20: Svengallop in G minor

When the Canterlot Philharmonic’s recording of Beethoven’s Third came out on record, something extremely unexpected happened that September. Ponies that had heard the music at its premiere had not only bought the record but shared it among other friends. Soon, word spread about the record in that, even when foals and teenagers that couldn’t stand classical music, were suddenly recommending it to their friends, and their friends, and their friend’s friend. By the end of two weeks of its release, music store owners in Canterlot were rather shocked that the youth were putting their money, not on Sapphire Shores, not Countess Coloratura, but on Ludwig van Beethoven!

The Eroica became a curiosity when it spread outside of the capital. To the north, Rainbow Falls and the Crystal Empire’s youth said that the music was fun. In the East, classical orchestra’s from Manehatten to Fillydelphia were shocked to find their theater was not only packed, but over half of the audience were younger than eighteen! From Appaloosa to Dodge City, themes from the symphony were being played on the piano in bars. And in the west from Vanhoover to Applewood, the music was a spark of inspiration for artists and scriptwriters alike, searching for the next blockbuster for their movies.

But for one stallion, however, who was reading a newspaper that reported record sales, he looked on in disbelief.

“That can’t be right,” he said as he looked again at the results. “There’s simply no way-”

He flipped over to the reviews for that particular record, his jaw dropped at what he read.

While the whole symphony roughly clocks around for nearly an hour, Ludwig van Beethoven’s Heroic third Symphony is taking Equestria by storm, and for good reason. The music has provided those who hear it, a revelation. Instead of the stale, boring kind of classical music that would put you to sleep, Beethoven somehow made the genre not only spring to life, but exciting, emotional, and even though it lacks lyrics, it is absolutely incredible in its originality! Given that the artist who wrote all four movements is deaf, makes the music we hear even more unbelievable than anypony could ever imagine! After listening to the symphony all the way through, this critic asks if this could be the future of pop music as we know it. Only time would tell if such a thing is possible.

“Morning Svengallop,” the stallion with the pink salmon mane looked up. It was one of the backup dancers, who took a moment to read his expression. “Is something wrong?”

“Have you read this?” he held up the newspaper. “Did you see the record charts?”

“Uh, not really boss,” the dancer tilted his head, “Why, did the Countesses’ album fall out of the top ten?”

“Thankfully no, but there’s somepony that surpassed it.”

“Really?” the dancer took the paper into his aura. When he found the list, he blinked, “Who’s… Beet-hoe-van?”

“That’s not important,” the stallion in an expensive blue suit said as he picked up his equally expensive cup of coffee. “Do you know what genera that is?” The other stallion shook his head, “Classical. A, classical, record, is making more money than the Countess. How in the name of Luna’s oversized moon, did a classical album sell more this week then ours!”

“Maybe it’s good?”

Svengallop shot him a glare. “I don’t think so. Classical has been dead for years, records like that would be found in discount bins for a bit. You usually play that sort of thing if you wanted to fall asleep! So how did this guy get positive reviews from critics and the younger demographic? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I’m just saying,” the dancer said, placing the newspaper on the table. “Maybe if this guy has figured out how to make something like classical sound good… does he deserve to be on there?”

The manager shook his head, “I just don’t understand it. How are kids and teens buying into this? Because, that’s where the real money comes from, that’s who’s buying these records. As such, they want popular music that has costumes, choreography, and brilliant vocal effects – not violins, pianos and music that goes on for hours without any lyrics. That’s what classical music is, and this guy is getting more than us? How is that possible!”

“How would I know,” the dancer shrugged as he grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl. “Perhaps the guy is doing something right,” with that, he left the room.

Svengallop sat there; staring into the paper, half hoping that it would catch fire. No matter how much he tried to wrap his brain around him, he couldn’t buy into the idea that a nopony that he hadn’t heard of before could possibly make so much from such an unpopular form of genera. There must be more to this somehow. Kids never have the time or the attention span to listen to something that old ponies would listen to.

The question, of course, was what?

Picking up the paper again, he looked through the Los Pegasus Tribune under entertainment to look at the music section. Sure enough, there was an orchestra that’s going to play the Heroic symphony tomorrow night at seven-thirty. While he knew that the Countess had her show going at the same time, he thought that maybe he could slip out and take a listen to this to see for himself.

“After all, what do I have to lose?” he asked himself, picking up his cup of coffee. “If the show turns out to be boring, then at least I would know for certain that it’s all a fad. And fad is only one letter away from becoming fade. If the music is boring, then that means that this guy just simply got lucky, and his sales will drop eventually by next month. Ha, yeah,” he took a sip, “What do I need to worry about anyway?”

The next night, the manager went in feeling confident but left worried by the time the symphony was over.

Chapter 21: The Visit in D minor

Ludwig’s head was stinging. His eyes hurt in the light of the sun; so much so, he tries to shut out the light with a blanket over his head. Laying on his bed, he listens carefully to the ringing in his ears that morphed a choir of monks and nuns singing mass to an arrangement of strings. Violins to double-bass’s pray together for the same things: returning home, peace, hope of a better future, that God was listening in a faraway world, just to name a few.

What Beethoven didn’t notice was that his door opened and his Landlady entered in. Lyra looked over the large room at the disorganized mess. “Huh? Are all humans so messy?” she wondered aloud. She noticed that the bathroom door was open and emptied, yet it too had sketches of musical notes lying on the floor. “Did the maid come today? Where is… oh, never mind,” she walked up to the lump on the bed.

Pulling on the blanket, Ludwig jerked up, “Huh! What?” He looked down at the pony near the bed. “Oh, the Landlady with the human fetish,” he rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t have a fetish,” Lyra protested. “But anyway, it’s almost se-”

“Ach, too many words,” he interrupted. “Where’s that scroll?”

“Here, I’ll write it down,” the unicorn said as she snatched a quill and paper.

“What? Did you say something?”

The mint green pony wrote down her response.

I don’t have a fetish, it’s an interest, there's a difference. Also, it’s almost seven.

“Already?” Beethoven looked out the window. “Huh, I must have lost track of time.” He got up, “I’ll be going to be eating out at the Harvest Tavern for dinner.” He looked down at himself, “Gott, ich bin ein Chaos.” Standing up, he reached for his waist and overcoat, “I apologize for the mess, my maid told me through a letter that she’s too ill to work but hopefully will be better within a day or two.”

“That explains it,” Lyra nodded in acknowledgment before turning to the paper.

Since you’ve stopped dumping water in the middle of the room, I was wondering if it’ll be possible for me and Bon Bon to have dinner with you, just to get to know you better, and to congratulate you on your success.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “What success? What are you talking about? Where’s that magic scroll?” He went over to the only standing piano in the room in which he brushed aside some loose notes until he found it. “Ah, here it is,” he unrolled it, “As you were saying.”

Lyra looked confused, “You mean that you don’t know? The orchestra you were with has released a record of your third symphony, and copies of it are selling like crazy! I think right now that the record album is on the top ten bestselling lists. I’ve read the reviews from critics, and most of them liked it.”

“Records?” Beethoven asked, “Are you talking about those funny black discs that have groves in them like tree rings?”

“Eh… close enough. The point being is that the recording of your symphony is getting in a crazy amount of bits in the past few weeks. In fact, Derpy has heavy packages for you that are full of bits. She said something that it’s from the orchestra in giving your share of the sales.”

“So in other words, I’m a very rich man?” She nodded. Ludwig laughed, “This is Wunderbar! Looks like I don’t have to ask that purple princess for money anymore!” he smiled, “This calls a feast! I’ll take on your invitation for dinner, and we’ll go out to someplace that has a good standing.”

“Really?” Lyra blinked, “You would do that?”

“Good fortune is not a lengthy visitor,” he put on his waistcoat. “One should take advantage of it when such luck and wealth presents itself.”

“Okay then. I was hoping to ask you some questions for a book I’m writing. Since you’re the only human around, I thought I just wanted to ask you what your home was like.”

“If I get my hands on a couple pints of ale, I’ll tell you all about it,” he said. “Why not you go fetch the coins? I’ll be down there in a minute.”

While Lyra trotted down the stairs, Ludwig was putting on his overcoat, stuffing it with some scrap paper and pencils before turning to his shoes. As he was putting them on, however, he noticed in peripheral vision that the room was getting darker. Looking up, the light from the windows was being swallowed up, looking behind him, he saw the glass outside of the windows was being covered by something thick and black that poured over like oil.

When the room became completely dark, Ludwig fumbled over to the standing piano to take out a box of matches in order to lit some candles to get some light. Once this was done, he took the candelabra over to the window in which he found to be locked. “What is going-” his answer came as he saw it.

Like the first time he saw it, the shadow was pressed up against the door, its head lowered to the ceiling. An arm stretched across the floor and over onto the standing piano to where the magic scroll was and picked it up. This time, the scroll didn’t show its clear black ink but formed into gray words upon the parchment.

Quickly overcoming the shock, Beethoven scowled, "You again? What are you doing here for? It's not even June."

I’ve come to check up on you. My employer wishes to know how you are progressing.

“I'm not finished in case you haven't noticed.”

Quite true. No, you still have plenty of time. I wanted to see how far you’ve come with your work.

More hands stretched over the walls and the floor, grabbing up the pieces of paper off the ground.

Ah good… You haven’t neglected the request. Ah! What are these?

The shadow brought dozens of particular pages to its flat face.

A string quartet? Oh please don’t tell me that you’re getting distracted Herr Beethoven?

“Let those go!” Ludwig said as he started snatching the paper from the many arms of the shadow. “These are not for you! I have other ideas that I would like to work on the side too. I'll have you know that I have not been lazy with my symphony.”

The scroll came up to his face.

Oh I already know that. I've seen you write whenever you're not teaching ponies to play your music getting homesick. At least my Employer would be pleased that you are, indeed, working on his request.

“I am not your plaything!” Ludwig yelled as he threw an ink bottle at the shadow which shattered and splashed ink upon the wall. But to his bewilderment, the dark ink was somehow sucked into the creature like a sponge.

Frankly Herr Beethoven, that was quite rude. I'm only here because my job demands it, and all you're able to do is to cry about how you're forced to work on a piece of music? Well, if this keeps up, then I'm afraid that I have to go and tell my Employer that you're not interested in the symphony, nor going home.

Ludwig froze at what he read.

I was told that you can get rather cold, but I couldn't imagine you be this way in returning to go home to Vienna where you left behind an offended friend like Schiller to think that you're still angry at him. Or to leave your poor Karl into thinking that you've hated him for not becoming what you wanted to be. And how will you're "Angle," your "Immortal Beloved" would take the news that you've disappeared forever, leaving her all alone to mend a shattered heart?

With his head nearly bursting into flames, Beethoven marched over to the wall where the shadow stood, "You leave them out of this!" he demanded.

For what reason? Because I told you a truth that you don't want to hear? You and I know that the only way things can ever go back to normal and for me to leave you forever alone is if you finish the tenth. After all, you have your job and I have mine to make sure that you're still willing to write it. Given the fact that your mind has wandered off to writing a string quartet, I'd say that you don't want to go home to redeem yourself from your guilt.

“I haven’t neglected it," Ludwig said as he started to snatch his sketches back, "if that’s what you’re trying to say. I have been working on it day and night to make it sound perfect.” He grabbed another page from the shadow’s hands. “I don’t get it at all. Out of all the composers you could have kidnapped and force them to compose music for you, why me? You might get something out of Schubert or Sedlatzek. Or even Cherubini for crying out loud! Now there's the kind of man you want to kidnap and force to write music. Cherubini alone surpasses me in quality. S out of all the composers in Vienna your demon of an employer could have chosen to kidnap and write against their will, why go for the one that could not hear a thing? There are better composers then I am!”

My Employer disagrees. He’s a fanatic of your work. As I said, I’m only doing my job, Herr Beethoven. If my Employer wanted something from, say... An artist or a politician, I carry out his instructions. This isn’t anything personal. I only carry out what I’m told. No questions asked. For at least I do take pride in my work.

Narrowing his eyes, the composer folded his arms, “While I don’t know why I’m being placed in a world dominated by ponies that most of them don’t come up to my knee, I still work. For I do happen to like to juggle several themes in my head at once. I have to so that I wouldn't go insane on top of not being able to hear anything. Besides, if these ponies are taking an interest in my music, the least I could do is to show them how to play it right."

Understandable. Since you seem comfortable and hard at work, I think it’s about time I make my leave. I’ll be back to see how you’re progressing. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Beethoven.

The shadow shrunk away, dropping all the other manuscripts onto the floor as he shrunk behind the door. From the windows, light returned, revealing that he hadn’t moved at all. So Ludwig quickly opened the door to the stairs, only to find nothing there.

Thinking that he might be able to catch it, he crawled backward as fast as he could down the narrow stairs to the outside. But no matter where he looked, it seemed that the shadow was long gone.

"Verdammt!" he screamed, to which, caught the attention of his Landlady.

"Mr. Beethoven?" she called out, but he didn't look down. After pulling on his sleeve did he take notice. "What's going on?" she asked slowly.

Ludwig, however, sharply turned back to the open door of his apartment. Cursing up a storm under his breath.

_*_

Two sets of hooves slammed on the baby grand piano, its ugly cords rang throughout the house. Horseshoepin glared at the piano part of Beethoven’s concerto. “This is impossible!” he vented, resting his elbows onto the piano, pulling his mane with his hooves.

Frederic had been practicing the concerto ever since he lost his bet in proving the giant wasn’t deaf. In that bet, he promised that if he lost, then he would have to perform both two of his piano concertos. Normally he wouldn’t mind doing so, even with the most difficult pieces from Buch and Moztrot, he was able to learn each piece within a few weeks.

But this, however, he found that this Fourth Piano Concerto to be a real frustrating challenge since it broken nearly every rule in the book. For one, instead of the orchestra introducing the piano, it’s the solo instrument that’s taking the lead. It was also very detailed about how loud and soft each and every moment is supposed to be. And to top it all off, there were cords that demanded his hooves had to stretch in order to play them.

“Celestia, I really hate that giant,” he moaned as rubbed his eyes. “I need a break from this.”

Getting off the bench, he went over to a bookshelf in the music room where a portfolio was kept. He flipped open his manuscripts to an unfinished piano work. These were not the publish works that he released to the public, but rather, these were his more personal pieces. They were the ones about the nostalgia of his home country. Before he returned to his instrument, he also took out a jar of earth to be carried on his back.

Taking a quill with him and sitting at the piano, he put the Beethoven music sheets aside for his own work. He looked at his unfinished nocturne, the one that was in the key of C-sharp minor, and meditated for a moment, looking at the jar that was sitting beside the music. When he was ready, he pressed on the keys, remembering his homeland.

He played through what was written on the scratched paper for a bit, reminiscing about a rainy day that he left his country in an uprising. Back on the day he was given the jar of earth of his native homeland, so that no matter where he goes, he will always have a piece of something familiar with him. However, when he got to the part of the music where he left off, his hooves went still.

“Now what?” he asked himself as he stared at the page. While the music was okay by his standings, he felt that something was missing. Only, he couldn’t for the life of him put his hoof on what exactly it was. “What exactly am I overlooking?”

Pausing, his eyes drifted back to the piano concerto lying across the jar. Picking it up, he flipped to the second movement. Looking over at the notes that he has to play after the orchestra makes its brooding entry, he found it odd that he plays in a quiet, slow way. The long notes, while not too difficult to play, he noted a section that caught his interest. Near the middle of the second movement, there was a simplistic, if not tragic note that bled through the paper. As if the giant who wrote this was too missing something personal.

In a way, whatever he may have thought of him, Horseshoepin thought that in those bars, there was something they might have in common. This got him to thinking if such emotion like that was the key to this difficult piece. But to make sure, he would probably go down to meet the giant himself.

Author's Note

Funny enough, the last scene was meant for Horseshoepin in the last chapter (that was before I stupidly didn't save it). But now I think it's more of a set up before the premiere of the 4th piano concerto.

Chapter 23: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 1)

Author's Note

Obviously, this was suppose to be much longer, but you know what? I'm tired as it is.

I don't know if this is any good, but here you go.

Chapter 23: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 1)

On the way to the place of the premiere, Manehattan, Beethoven spends most of his time paying more attention to the third movement of his Tenth, then he did to the passing countryside on the train. Over hills and through tunnels, Ludwig shaped and reshaped his music while taking up a good two or so seats in one corner of the car. As Ludwig hummed, his mind was in his element as he finished the first, calming theme out before writing out a crescendo towards a more monstrous melody for the violins. He started to build it on top of the violas, but when he wrote out the cello section, he found the cords were starting to pile up into hideous harmonies, to which he scratched it out before starting again.

Sitting on the other side of him was Princess Twilight with her assistant, and the pianist that will perform that night looked on as the giant carried on with mumbling and scribbling.

“So,” Spike started, “You feel prepared for tonight?”

Horseshoepin nodded, “At least I have a good idea what I’m doing. Plus, he gave the opportunity to play on his own piano, which means that I must have done something right.”

“I know that Mr. Beethoven isn’t the easiest pon- er… human to deal with,” Twilight said. “But I do appreciate you and the orchestra being patient with him.”

“He’s tough in rehearsals, I’ll give you that,” Frederic remarked. “Between practicing this and the Fourth Symphony, we barely keep up with him as it is. At least we’ll be given a break by the time Nightmare Night rolls around before we rehearse the fifth. Celestia knows what nasty surprises that one has.”

“Yeah, that I can relate,” Spike rubbed his arm. “I don’t know if you know this, but I play the piano too. And something that I’m practicing for October is a piece he wrote. While it’s not that hard, it is difficult to get in all the right notes.”

“I’m willing to bet you that’s nothing compared to what I’m about to play,” the pianist leaned back. “This has to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever played. Period. Compare to the other difficult pieces that I’ve done in the past, Buch and Moztrot are easy compared to this. Oh! And to make things interesting, the instrument that we’re bringing isn’t your normal concert piano.”

“It isn’t?” Twilight inquired, “Why?”

“Because, his piano is defiantly from another time – for one, the thing is completely made out of wood, and not the modern steel frame that we’re used to. This means that I have a limited octave range and the keys I’ve noticed are smaller. So basically, I’m playing on an early model, the fortepiano. Now while the mechanics are more or less the same (if not simplistic); it does have a different tone that I’ve noticed. What else…? Oh! And the thing is a little longer than a modern piano since all of the bass strings are too straighten out like the alto stings, so there are no strings crossing underneath the higher strings at all, which gives it the look of a harpsichord, but not the sound.”

“What do you mean by tone?” the princess asked.

“When I practiced on it, there’s a kind of unusual clarity with every single key. So when I touched it very softly, it really gets soft. If I hit a key hard enough, it will roar. But the trick is when I play multiple notes, I have to press each of them with the correct amount of force to make it sound just so.” He sighed as he looked out the window, “Which is going to make things even more difficult since Prince Blueblood will be at the performance.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spike told him. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Yet, the pianist stared at the passing landscape, “I certainly hope so.”

_*_

Hours later as the sun was setting and the city’s weather teams were moving rain clouds overhead for tonight’s showers, Manehattaners were lining around the block at Carneghie Hall. The posters surrounding the tall brick building that promoted the premiere of two “new” Beethoven pieces: his 4th Piano Concerto, and his 4th Symphony. Just as the music hall had expected from the last symphony, the ones that were buying tickets were young ponies, teenagers mostly that put forth their hard earned bits to hear the hour-long concert.

By the time ponies finally entered the enormous white space with red seating, they’ve noticed that the first thing they saw on the half dome like space where the stage was, stood there a simple, long, and wooden instrument that was up and center with its lid open with a microphone sticking in. At first, this confused some ponies, wondering what a harpsichord was doing there. But as the time drew close for the orchestra to play, one by one, its members went up on the stage to tune their instruments.

To this, Princess Twilight and Spike entered to take their seats on the ground level near the middle of the red velvet seating. The little drake looked around him, “Where’s Blueblood?” he asked.

“Knowing him,” Twilight told him, “He’s most likely waiting for the right moment to enter.”

Indeed, on the uppermost balconies, Prince Blueblood stood behind a curtain with the entourage of his staff. When the theater seemed to be nearly full, he turned to one of his servants, “How long will this be?”

“Apparently,” the one nearest to him said. “This concert has only two acts, and both of them are only about half-an-hour each. They’ll be playing the concerto first and the symphony after.”

The blond unicorn nodded, “I see,” he peaked through the velvet curtain. “So many young ponies here – you’d expect they were going to a different kind of concert.”

“Do you see the giant out there?” one of them inquired.

He shook his head, “I don’t think so. Unless the thing is late, I don’t see him anywhere.” Turning back to his servants, he added, “Do we have the classical music kit ready?”

Another servant nodded, “Right here you’re Grace,” she tapped a hoof against a briefcase: “One neck pillow, sleeping mask, earplugs, sleeping pills, the works.”

“Good,” he faced the curtain as two of his enraged told hold of the curtain. “Here we go everypony,” the velvet vale was parted in which the prince entered the great, white hall. All four balconies worth of ponies greeted him as he took his seat that was on the front row and his blue seat was roped off.

When the last of the Canterlot Philharmonic came in, including the conductor and Pianist who bowed when their audience too clapped. But even then, they didn’t start because out from the doors of the music hall was Ludwig van Beethoven himself. Although he didn’t hear it, he was being greeted by his audience as they stomped the ground, and waved their hooves or their playbills at him.

Ludwig walked over to the very back of the hall, where a special chair that was made for him waited there, along with a pair of headphones. After putting them on, he felt the vibrations of the equine audience’s chatter before it faded away. He saw the conductor, Sea Sharp taking her place like Horseshoepin at his personal piano that now had its legs restored.

The hall was still for a moment after the conductor gave a nod, Frederic took the lead. He began with some sweeping cords, producing a curious sound. It was defiantly not like the plucking of strings like that of a harpsichord, but it wasn’t exactly like a piano either. No, this wooden instrument sounded much younger, optimistic, but disciplined that took the lead before the orchestra did.

The strings in return followed suit after the soloist established the main theme. There was something naturalistic sounding before the strings and brass joined in to build up the orchestra to make it sound adventurous yet majestic. Almost as if they were the sounds of a traveler beginning on his voyage to somewhere far away. Bidding everypony he knew goodbye before sailing off beyond the horizon.

A couple of minutes later, the piano started its solo, showing off its firework-like display of skills to the audience. Although for an instrument that looks like it should belong in a museum, there was a sense of confidence as Horseshoepin scaled up and down, doing trills and playing counterpoint on its reverse black and white keys. Engaging the orchestra in a boastful conversation where at times it was cocky in one moment and romantic the next.

Above Beethoven’s head, Blueblood listened on, sitting back a little. His ears pointed forward in judgment. “It certainly is… different,” he quietly commented.

“Does that mean you won’t need the kit, my liege?” one of the servants whispered.

“Keep it on standby,” he said. “Let’s see where this goes. It’s kept my interests so far.”

The sound of the fortepiano bounced off the white walls of the hall as Horseshoe thought back to that story the composer had told him was about, so he to imagined himself trying to be in his horseshoes. He imagined an alternative set of memories in his native homeland where he performed the piano for the first time, and how others were blown away at his skills. Just like this piece he was playing, he too used to show off of all the things he could do to wealthy patrons.

Horseshoepin played on this musical puzzle in which it used every single rule in the book to make it sound just right. While the orchestra provided the necessary support to give what he was playing gravitas, Frederic did look over from time to time at the giant that had his hands pressed firmly against the headphones as he tried to listen in. All the while wondering what the composer was thinking.

_*_

About twenty minutes from the beginning, the second movement, the Andante Con Moto, was much shorter compared to the rest of the concerto that began with the rhythm of dark strings. The pianist replied meekly yet, childlike cords that answered something bigger than themselves. The violas, cellos, double basses, however, didn’t seem satisfied, it demanded something better.

In Ludwig’s mind, although he could barely hear his own piano replying, the strings were talking in a familiar voice. It knew what that section was saying; it was something that was drilled into him as a child. ‘Es ist nicht gut genug Ludwig.’ Listening to this movement again, he heard his father’s anthem once more over Horseshoepin’s playing.

‘It is not good enough Ludwig.’

‘Just stick to the lesson.’

‘Stop playing that! It’s silly trash!’

‘Are you trying to get another beating?’

Beethoven tried as hard as he could to the piano parts; it was barely there as if the instrument was too recalling such painful memories. Yet, the voice was meant to be quiet, just like how the world grew increasingly to silence. He already knew the notes of the piano’s soul being played out; he knew that the pianist knew what he was doing. But he just could barely hear it himself.

Several minutes later, the orchestra was onto the last movement of the concerto. The strings trotted up with the piano following behind as if they readying themselves an epic race home. There was some teasing on both sides about who was going to lose. Almost childlike for both soloist and orchestra before a shout of go from the strings and brass that set the whole Philharmonic moving.

However, for Ludwig, who could hear the piano this time now that Frederic was playing loudly, it started to trigger his musical imagination. Taking out one of the scrap papers in his pocket, he thought back to the theme of the first movement of his new symphony in which a canon was being played out. He distracted himself from the rest of the concerto by jotting down the string section.

This time, he didn’t take off his headphones but listened in until he heard the applause from his equine audience to signal that the first half was over.

“That was quick,” he commented to himself as he took off his headphones and pulled out the magic scroll. Curious as to what his audience had to say.

Chapter 24: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 2)

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 26: Friendship of a Dragon in A Major.

Later that day, Lyra returned to Beethoven’s studio apartment with a bowl of noodle soup. Much to the composer’s disappointment, there was no meat in it. However, since he was forbidden to leave due to his cold, going out to the only place in town that sells meat was inaccessible.

For the afternoon, stuck in his room, coughing, sneezing and wiping his nose, Ludwig composed from his bed. He turned his attention to the third movement of his newest symphony, reviewing the first few pages to revise the brass and wind sections. Scratching out the discorded harmony and counterpoints to the point he found that he ran out of room to correct them. After making some notes on the very bottom of the page, he moved on to the Allegro part of the movement. Using the strings as a guideline, he pushed and pulled clarinets with horns, bassoons with flutes, trying to find a balance for all of them that coincided with the strings. Sometimes he expanded upon certain phrases while dismissing others when they didn't fit with the ever-flowing mood of the piece. For a while between sipping the noodle soup and juggling instruments in his head, he soon lost track of time.

By evening, a visitor came to the door, this time it was Spike with a book. After tugging on his sleeve to get his attention, the baby dragon waved. “Hey Ludwig,” he said slowly. “I’ve brought you something.”

Setting the score aside, Ludwig picked up the book from the young drake’s claws; it was a history book of Equestrian Music. “Compliments from Princess Twilight?” he asked and Spike nodded. After sneezing, Beethoven said, “Since you’re here, is it possible I could run you an errand?”

After spotting the magic scroll on the bed, Spike unrolled it and inquired: “What kind of errand?”

“Take some of those bits over there,” he pointed towards a box that was up against one of the windows. “Go to the hole in the wall where that gryphon works and buy me some chicken. I’ve haven’t had any meat all day.”

Spike looked over his shoulder, “Wouldn’t you mind if I take enough for me to snack on? After all, I haven’t gotten the chance to get away from Twilight to have some in a while.”

“I’ve got plenty,” Ludwig said before he coughed. “Now hurry, the sooner I get proper food, the sooner I can be healed.”

One salute and bagging a reasonable amount of bits later, the dragon left the studio, giving Beethoven some time to himself to compose from his bed. Nearly an hour later, Spike returned with a paper bag in his claw, kept looking over his shoulder all the while. After getting the giant’s attention, Ludwig pulled out a white box from the bag, popped it open to reveal the shredded chicken. Spike handed him a fork and the two started to dig in.

Eventually, Spike got a hold of the magic scroll before saying, “Oh Celestia this is heavenly! Thanks for sharing this with me. How well are you doing by the way?”

Ludwig sniffed, “No better than I was this morning,” and he sneezed.

“You know, since I’m here,” the dragon said. “Apart from giving you that book, Twilight wants to pass a message over to you. The copyists have finished printing out your next symphony that she’ll start sending them out to the orchestra once she gets them.”

“When will rehearsals begin?”

“If I remember it right, I think that they’re taking a break for this month but they’ll get together after Nightmare Night.”

Wiping his nose, Beethoven inquired, “What’s Nightmare Night?”

Spike thought for a moment before he replied, “Basically, it’s a holiday that celebrates how important it is to stir things up a bit. Foals and adults alike dress up in creative costumes, go to places to get scared for fun, go to Nightmare Night parties to play games, and for foals they go door to door to get candy. On that day, the unusual and the creatively scary is welcomed. Maybe when you get better, you could celebrate with us.”

Ludwig coughed, “I think I’ve heard a holiday like that before. In other countries in Europe, they have a holiday like how you described it. I think it's called… All Souls Day. I heard it’s quite popular in England and Italy. In which the children over there do something similar as you described.”

“All Souls Day?” Spike inquired.

“Something about that in the remembering all the souls that haven’t gotten into heaven yet, but I know very little on the subject.”

“Still, you should come, it’s really fun. And given that you’re a giant, you don’t have to dress up for anything.”

Beethoven raised an eyebrow, “Why? I’m already so freighting looking as it is?”

“Well, no I didn't say that. I mean that ponies tend to dress up as characters or creatures that they pretend to be. With you, however, there’s no need. You’re literally a giant; you can go as you are. I didn’t mean any offense.”

After taking a few bites of the chicken, Ludwig said, “As amusing as that sounds, I don’t know if it’ll be possible for me to participate such festivities.”

“What? Why not?”

Ludwig picked up the sketches on the bed. “I’m trying to make sure the third movement of my new symphony is just right. The sooner I complete all the movements, the sooner I’ll go back home.”

“Oh…” Spike put down his fork. “That’s right… I’ve forgotten already that you’re from somewhere else.” The baby dragon took another moment to carefully construct his question before showing the scroll to the old man. “Mr. Beethoven, you’re music is becoming popular, and you’ve probably just become controversial thanks to what you did the other night, you’re making a profit from the share of the record of one of your symphonies, so with all of that in mind, why do you want to go back?”

Beethoven too put down his fork and after wiping his nose, he looked at Spike in the eye and said: “Junge Drachen, I want you to listen to me carefully. As strange and wonderful as this world may be, the truth is Equestria is not my home. Vienna is. It’s lonely enough that I can’t hear what anyone is saying, but not to be able to be with my own kind, though corrupt as they can be; it is the only world I know. I have a nephew over there that I come to think of like my son. Karl. I saved him from his corrupting mother’s influence; try to ride her poison from him, to make him a better man…”

For a while, Ludwig became quiet. “Though at times, I wonder if all I’ve done for him wasn’t enough. He tells me that he can’t play the piano and that he wishes to join the army, particularly the Calvary since he’s fond of horses. It seems as if the more I try to get him to be a virtuous human being, the more he resists! He gambles, plays billiards, probably conversing with whores, getting drunk every night. In fact, do you know what a friend of mine has told me my Karl was miserable? What am I doing wrong? I teach him virtue, which I speak from experience has always made me happy, so why can’t my nephew be happy also?”

“To be honest Mr. Beethoven – I don’t know the answer to that since I’m just a kid. I’ve no clue about how to raise someone else. However, I can relate to being alone when you’re the only species around. Heck, I’ve never met another dragon until a few years ago. I’ve only known ponies since I was I was hatched, so even when up until some time ago, I was curious about what other dragons were like. But do you know what the funny was after I met those dragons for the first time?”

Curious, Ludwig shook his head after he coughed.

Spike continued, still holding up the scroll for him to read. “Even with my own species, I didn’t quite feel at home as I should have been. They considered me tiny over there, and the dragons aren’t exactly… nice. For me, Equestria, even if I’m not a pony, is where my real home is at. To a degree, I think I have an idea what you’re going through, I’ve been there.” The little drake smiled, “It always helps to have at least a friend in a strange land.

“Besides, regardless of what other ponies may think, I thought you’ve given Prince Blueblood what was coming to him.”

This got Beethoven laughing, “Is that so?”

“Seriously, after how he treated Rarity at the Grand Galloping Gala, saying something like that to him in public is the least of what he deserves.”

Now, this got the composer curious, “Why?" he sneezed, "What did he do?”

Spike rolled his eyes, “From what I’ve heard from Rarity, you know, the mare that tailored all of your clothes, she had him on a date and he treated her with such disrespect. Let's just say that it was completely the opposite of a gentlecolt from what I’ve heard from her. I was going to tell you that what you said back in Manehattan, that you’ve just earned my undying respect, only you’ve stormed out before I could say anything.”

“It is from my experience that aristocrats like princes, who care only for costly fashions and nosy pleasures are hollow - which reminds me of a song I’ve made an arrangement of now that I think of it.”

The dragon assistant laughed, “Oh! That would be funny if we sent a record of that song over to him!”

“An interesting idea young one… I’ll think about it.”

Spike looked out of one of the windows. “Oh, it’s starting to get late, Twilight will be wondering where I am. But before I go, I wanted to tell you that I’ve been practi-” He was interrupted when the giant sneezed, “Bless you. Anyway, do you remember a while back that I’ve mentioned that I've been practicing a piece of yours? I’m confident I can it play now.”

“I could barely remember. Which one is it?”

“It has a funny name… Fur Elise?”

“You mean Für Elise,” Beethoven corrected him. “Well, at least you didn’t play that one sonata that I was getting tired of hearing before I became deaf. Some of my people called it ‘Moonlight,’ but it’s been played so often that you would think that I have composed something better. However, I am rather surprised you’ve chosen that one.”

“Why?”

“That bagatelle, I’ve never published it. I wrote it as a gift for a woman that was nicknamed Elise, so as far as I know, no one in Vienna has heard of it. Yet, you want to play something that I haven’t published?”

“Why not? I think it’s good. Challenging, but good. My teacher, Octavia is hosting a recital in a couple of weeks where I’ll be playing. Besides, I’ve got the whole thing memorized.”

“If it weren’t for my cold, I would come,” Ludwig sniffed. “Would you tell me how they like it if my cold hasn’t gone away by them?”

“Sure thing. I have to go now before Twilight comes looking for me. Thanks for the chicken by the way.”

With that, the baby dragon put the scroll down on the bed and left the room. Beethoven finished eating his dinner before turning his attention towards a fugue in his tenth symphony.

_*_

Meanwhile, in Applewood, Svengallop looking at the schedule for November when he heard a knock on his office door, looking up he saw that his client opened the door. “Ah, Countess, just the pony I wanted to see.”

“Well, you did tell me that it was important,” she said before closing the door behind her. “I just finished eating dinner, so what’s up?”

“Countess Coloratura, we have a little problem. Come take a seat so I can explain this further.”

She did so, “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh no! It’s not you at all. You’re still incredible on stage, as always. But lately, concerning the record sales, we have some competition that’s come up recently. Have you by chance had heard of an artist by the name of…” he looked through some papers before muttering, “Let’s see if I can pronounce this right… Ludwig van Beethoven?”

“Heard of him? I’ve bought his record,” the singer smiled. Her manager looked up at her in surprise. “What? It’s catchy.”

Coughing, Svengallop resumed, “Uh, yes. But truth be told Countess, I’m starting to get worried because his record is selling more than yours. Not only that, but a classical record like his is not only getting popular but getting positive reviews, even one saying that it’s better than your album, that’s when I decided I need to do something.”

“Wait, really?” the Countess tilted her head, “he’s in the top ten?”

“At the top,” her manager clarified. “If his sales are that high, then I’m worried that you might lose your fan base, however, I have a proposal that I want you to hear.”

“Okay? I’m listening.”

He leaned forward, “I’ve checked the schedule that the Canterlot Philharmonic, the orchestra that’s playing Beethoven’s music and it turns out they’ll perform his Fifth Symphony for the first time right here in Applewood. Which, coincidently, is the exact same time that you’ll be performing at the Applewood Bowl, so this got me thinking, why not we host a battle of the bands sort of thing on that date. I can see it now: ‘Beethoven vs. Coloratura – The Battle of Giants!’ Where you, Countess, will get some time to sing both new and your greatest hits to the most outstanding, most spectacular, and stunning show ever performed in the world. I will spare no expense to dazzle our audience to remind them who is the queen of music.”

Putting a hoof to her chin, the Countess hummed, “You know, I’ve always wanted to do a battle of the bands, this could be really fun. And at the Applewood Bowl too! Plus, you say new songs? I’ve got a couple that I think many ponies would like to hear.”

“We’ll see,” Svengallop smiled.

Chapter 27: Nightmare Night Allegro in C # minor

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 28: The Piano in Appaloosa in B Major.

Weeks went by in the month of November, and Beethoven had been hard at work for the musical duel that was about to take place. Daily he went up to Canterlot by train to rehearse with the Philharmonic in which there were many shouting matches between him and the orchestra. Since the musicians either traded in their instruments for antiques or have their strings replaced with traditional gut strings, the Philharmonic was forced to adapt to playing the demanding score without breaking them.

However, despite the tough rehearsals, the ponies managed to refine the music before they all packed up and took a train towards Applewood, through the southern desert – taking the equipment for Ludwig to hear, as well as the composer himself along with them.

“Unglaublich,” Beethoven whispered as he looked out the passing land outside the passenger window.

Twilight tilted her head, “Did you say something?” she asked, but Ludwig didn’t notice her question. After getting his attention from the use of her magic, she repeated her question slowly to him.

“I say something?” he inquired and the mare nodded. “Yes. I’ve never seen the desert before.”

After a wave, Ludwig took out the magic scroll in which Twilight asked, “Really? Are there no deserts where you come from?”

“No. Europe is full of green meadows, farms, cities, forests, and mountains. But this,” he gestured towards the window, “is really unbelievable. I’ve never seen a land so empty and vast like this before.” He turned back to the Princess, “Not to mention so warm.”

“That’s the desert for you,” she said. “Where we’ll be spending the night, is one of the few places in this region that has a water source. Appaloosa is an oasis in the middle of nowhere that, the only other residents living there besides the settlers is the nomadic Buffalo Tribe that knows how to live off the land.”

Beethoven looked at the scroll puzzled, “What is this word here? I don’t understand it.”

“Huh?” Twilight went over and peeked over the scroll, but by the time she did the words had already a faded away. “What word?”

“You said something tribe.”

“Buffalo?”

“There’s that word again.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know what the word ‘Buffalo’ means?”

Ludwig shook his head, “It’s a word that I don’t recognize.”

“There’s an older term… Bison I think.”

Again, Beethoven shook his head. “I don’t know what you are saying.”

“Nevermind,” the Princess of Friendship sighed. “When we get to the town tonight, chances are you might see a few of them walking around. As I was saying, we’ll be spending the night there tonight before heading on for Applewood in the morning.” She glanced out the window once more before adding, “Oh, and before I forget: by the time we do get to Appaloosa, there’s a greeter there that can get rather… a touch intrusive. He’s not bad by any means, just easily excitable in meeting new po- I mean, anyone new. He’s a cousin of my friend Applejack, just to let you know beforehoof.”

_*_

Hours of trudging through the dry desert air over red and orange earth, the train slowed to a halt at the small settler’s town in which had a few green saplings growing around its borders. With a blow of the whistle, the doors were opened in which the members of the Philharmonic stepped out onto the wooden platform. By now, the sun was on its way westward but there was still enough time for them to find something to eat.

Looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun a bit, Ludwig thought, ‘Perhaps we ought to rehearse once more after dinner. Just to be sure everything is perfect before-’ he never got the chance to finish his thought as something yellow suddenly jumped up to his face. Beethoven tumbled backward in shock, tripping over an instrument case.

The yellow pony, with an ear to ear grin, said something before rearing up on his hind legs. Ludwig saw that the stallion was talking to him but there were too many words to decipher. Before Beethoven could take out the scroll from his pocket to find out what in the world he is talking about, other members of the orchestra had raised their hooves and they too were speaking.

By the time he unrolled the scroll, the stallion had a look of surprise, “That’s Beethoven?” the yellow pony seemed to ask.

“Yes!” Octavia told him, “The same giant that is deaf.”

The pony that startled Ludwig had his ears folded back, “Oh…” he looked at him with guilty eyes, “Uh… can ya understand me?”

“I can now,” Beethoven muttered, trying to get up. “What did you scare me like that for?”

“Ah didn’t mean none sir, really. Jus’ tryin’ ta say hello, only ya didn’t look down. Sorry about that, perhaps Ah should start over, name’s Braeburn. We’re glad to have somepon- eh, someone by the likes of you to be here in…” Ludwig looked up when there was a pause in the scroll to find the stallion was rearing on his hind hooves again, “Appaloosa! So what brings Y'all here for?”

It was then that Princess Twilight stepped out onto the platform, “Hey Braeburn.”

He craned his neck around the giant, “Princess Twilight,” he quickly bowed. “Long time no see! What brings you here?”

“We’re traveling to Applewood but we’re stopping here for the night.” She said as she adjusted her saddlebags, “I’m with the orchestra to hear the premiere of a new symphony of his.”

“Really!” Braeburn went up to her, “You mean this whole team is goin’ to play his music?” he pointed at Beethoven.

“Yep,” she said before had a thought. “In fact, if I remember right, the orchestra probably needs to do one more rehearsal tonight before the big day tomorrow.”

“That’s great news!” the cowpony smiled, “Everypony in Appaloosa has already heard his Heroic Symphony, if only on the piano, but we’ve never got enough musicians fer a whole orchestra. Do ya think it would be possible if Y'all had an open rehearsal in which the town might get the chance to hear it?”

“Do you have any place that has electricity?” the princess inquired, “We’re carrying a machine in order for Mr. Beethoven to hear his music.”

“Well… We’ve already set up a telegram office, which runs on electricity. I think this might work.”

Twilight turned to the rest of the orchestra, “What do the rest of you think?”

Octavia shrugged, “As long as everypony else doesn’t interfere too much, we should be fine as long as we get some time to go through the music once more.” The others, including Ludwig, agreed. The cellist added, “Perhaps we ought to do it after we have some dinner.”

“Well shoot!” Braeburn interjected, “Ah know jus’ the place!”

_*_

“The Salt Lick?” Princess Twilight deadpanned as the Philharmonic reached the saloon.

“What?” Braeburn asked, “They have other things then salt licks and cider. This here saloon has other things too like sandwiches, fries, and the fourth best apple pie this side of Equestria.”

“Fourth?” Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“Mine’s better.” One collective eye roll later, the members pass through the swinging doors of the saloon. The place wasn’t crowded except for the few stallions here and there that either drank or gambled in peace. There was only one bartender who was cleaning the glass mugs before he looked up at who was entering.

Beethoven had to crane his neck downward, nearly crawling his way through, and when he was in, there was only enough space for him to hunch over. By now, everyone in the saloon was looking up at him. However, Ludwig scanned around the space and spotted in a corner, a lone stand-up piano that exposed its strings and hammers for all to see.

While the orchestra was taking their seats, the old man went over to the piano. It had only one little chair and a layer of dust on every part except the keyboard.

Braeburn looked over as Beethoven touched one of the keys, “What’s yer friend doin’?”

Twilight looked over also, “Not sure, could you go get somepony to get everyone fed? I’m going to go see what he’s up to.” She trotted over and took out the scroll from his pocket, “Ludwig, what are you doing?”

“Why is there a piano in a place like this?” he inquired, “Especially in this state?”

“Uh, excuse me,” Twilight looked over to see the bartender going up to him. “Hey, don’t touch that, it’s for our pianist only.”

“He can’t hear you,” she told the uniformed stallion. “He’s deaf.”

“Well still, he’s not supposed to touch that, it’s only been tuned yesterday.”

It was then that Twilight got an idea, “Actually, why not you let him play?”

The bartender looked at her as if she lost her mind, “You can’t be serious? You just said that the… whatever he is, can’t hear.”

“But suppose he can play-”

“He can’t.”

Sighing, the Princess of Friendship said, “Then why not I make a bet with you? If you allow him to play something on that piano and if he plays it well, whatever meal he orders, will be on the house.”

Thinking it over, the bartender agreed, under one condition, “Alright, but he can’t play, then you have to pay double for all of these ponies here, deal?”

Smirking, Twilight shook his hoof, “Deal.” She then went over to Ludwig, holding up the scroll, “Mr. Beethoven, can you play something for us?”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because, the bartender over there said that if you could play something good on that, then whatever meal you want will be for free.”

There was a pause between the two before Beethoven looked up; “Free?” she nodded. Looking at the open piano, he said, “Get me a spoon.”

Off from the counter-top of the bar, Twilight borrowed a metal spoon and gave it to the giant. Sitting down, Ludwig adjusted the seat and putting the silverware between his teeth, let the other end touch part of the piano. For a moment, Ludwig closed his eyes before deciding what exactly to play. Perhaps he should give these settlers something… complicated

His long fingers on the keys, Beethoven began to play softly at first. Letting long, misty, notes that almost went unnoticed in the bar. While it wasn’t unpleasant for the first three minutes of it with its cloud-like sounds, it wasn’t anything clever. Just nice background music as far as anypony cared to observe. Light high and soft low notes complimented one another like a water painting.

Striding over to the bar, Twilight smirked, “Well?”

The bartender frowned, “It’s… okay, but not exactly worth a free meal as of yet.”

“Just you wait.”

So he did, as he returned to cleaning the glass mugs, he kept his ears perked at the piano, trying to hear so much of a wrong note. But oddly, there wasn’t even one in this atmospheric music. It was as if it was missing something.

Then, about three minutes in, the keys became stronger in volume before suddenly the mood changed to only a solo voice in which notes wiz up and down the black and white keys. Then another voice stepped in which a complicated, layered, and spinning fugue erupted in which it got much of the attention of the saloon.

But what made the bartender’s jaw drop was that even when the giant was using up every single square inch of the keyboard, using every trick in the book, every theatrical move that any musician could think of, there was not a single sour note to be heard. And it went on for another ten minutes!

The sounds of the fugue didn’t go noticed to outsiders, ponies outside and inside were peeking through at the deaf pianist that was at this point showing off. Even the very few buffalo that were in town were curious as to where this heavily textured music was coming from. For some, they were trying to make out the blur of fingers that were playing on the keys.

By the time that Beethoven played the final cords, he couldn’t hear the applause both outside and inside as he took the spoon out of his mouth. He looked up at the slack-jawed bartender, “Do you have anything to drink?” he asked.

For Octavia, there was only one word that came to mind by the time the deaf composer finished, “Show off.”

_*_

Vinyl looked again at the cable that was linking between the machine and telegraph office before she connected it with her speakers. After that was done, she was pleased to find that she had power. By now, the sun had already gone down and the orchestra had gathered just outside of town in which several lanterns were lit for them and the impromptu audience. Some of the townsfolk were chatting about how lucky there were here for such a special event in their own town while the orchestra was tuning up on their “antique” instruments.

Of course, they were waiting for the one that was going to conduct them, in which, a few minutes later, Beethoven was whipping his mouth with a napkin. He walked through the mob up to Vinyl, “Ah citizen,” he said to the white unicorn, squeezing her shoulder blades. “You’re just in time for the revolution.”

With a confused look, she handed him the headphones in which he put them around his skull. With the cord dragging behind, he went up to the Philharmonic, “So far, you’ve done much better than the first orchestra that rehearsed this. But before we begin, I want to say that while your playing is good, I can sense that some of you are holding back. Don’t be! This symphony is the very embodiment of revolution. For too long, the music you’ve often played has been ignored, but no longer! Tomorrow night is your chance to raise yourselves up, and the music that I know up from the dull, aristocratic pop music. The first eight notes in the very beginning is a call to action! Just remember, do not hold back on the crescendos, and let us practice for the revolution that is to come.”

He raised his right arm while keeping the other on his headphones, and what the ponies and buffalo of Appaloosa got that night, was fate knocking on the door.

Author's Note

Citizens! To Applewood for the Revolution!

Chapter 29: The Revolution Symphony in D # minor.

Author's Note

There, it's done. Now if you all excuse me, I'm gonna collapse over there. *CRASH* I'm okay!

Chapter 29: The Revolution Symphony in D # minor.

In Applewood’s many hills, there is one place that’s considered as a natural amphitheater which combined with the slopes of the hills and a concrete shell; the acoustics have become legendary in which anypony in the very back could hear just as well and at the same volume as those who are sitting in the front. It was here that a unique concert took place, completely sold out for a battle of the bands between the famous Countess Coloratura’s songs, and a new symphony from Ludwig van Beethoven. It was on that stage that Pop and Classical face in a duel to a jury of several thousand that crowded in that night.

There was a coin toss for whom to go first for the first half hour – to which, the countess won that round.

An hour after sunset, the concert began with a roar from the audience as soon as the electronic music came on. From the wings of the shell, the orchestra waited with Beethoven, who looked on with a pair of headphones playing out the music that’s going onstage. He sat there, folding his arms as he watches the light show, complete with an army of dancers, fireworks, fog machines, a rainbow of lasers, autotune voices, confetti, pulsing lights, and a continuous beat.

Near the end, Ludwig took off the headphones with a smirk. Octavia notice this, after pulling on his sleeve, it got him to take out the scroll for her to ask, “Aren’t you the least bit nervous?”

Beethoven laughed, “I don’t see why I should. Look out there, if there’s anything that they’re telling me, is that they are desperate.”

This took the cellist by surprise, “Desperate?”

“Have you noticed with all these lights and dancers in their weird costumes, that it’s the equivalent of… how you say… jangling keys in front of an infant. They are trying to distract you from the music they’re making. Ha! If you could call it such! Lyrics about narcissism, having a ‘good time’ (whatever that means), all to the same musical techniques that haven’t changed at all since the days of Herr Haydn. They may have a new sound, but I can play this backward in my sleep.”

Octavia looked over her shoulder, “Don’t ever let Vinyl hear you say that, she’d probably kill you for it.”

“We’ll give them what they came for,” Ludwig added. “No distractions, no bells, and whistles, no dancers to wave flags around. Only pure music, nothing more,” the giant snorted, “Besides if I wanted to go to a show where there are dances in odd costumes, distracting lights, singers that don’t do much, to some mediocre music, I would go see an opera by Rossini.”

“Who?”

Beethoven shook his head, “Never mind, sometimes I forget that I’m not in Europe.”

When the last of the Countess’s songs came to an end, there was an intermission in which the stage was cleared off and was being replaced with rows of chairs and plain white lighting. Vinyl brought out a long cord that extended to the very upper center of the stage that was connected to a pair of headphones with strips of vale crow.

Once everything was set up, one by one, the Philharmonic came on stage to tune their instruments. Meanwhile, on the other side of the shell, Coloratura was taken a breather while gargling down a water bottle. “I think that was pretty good out there,” she heard her manager say. “By the looks of it, I say I already know who’s won this battle.”

“That was a lot of fun out there,” the singer commented. “Really, I think you outdid yourself this time.”

“All for my client,” he smiled while looking onto the stage. “I think we’ve got this in the bag as it is. Look, they don’t even have dancers or special effects or anything. They’re lucky they haven’t been booed yet.”

“Hey, be nice Svengallop,” the Countess told him. “We haven’t heard them play; besides we’ve got a great audience out there so they’re just waiting for what he has.”

Her manager rolled his eyes, “All I’m saying, is that I think everypony knows who the winner here is.”

When the orchestra’s instruments were tuned up, the stage went quiet except for the audience that was in the middle of idle chat. That was until the giant finally walked out on stage to which about half were either applauding or booing, but Beethoven didn’t hear either as he strode to the very center where the headphones were. Putting them on his head, he wrapped the velcro around and tested it to make sure it won’t come off. Giving a nod, a small green light came on to which indicated that the headphones were on.

Svengallop sat down, with a smug smile and folded his forelegs, he commented, “And an instant win in three… two... o-”

“LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!!” the orchestra gave out a surprise battle cry before Ludwig started to conduct. Eight simple but powerful notes were being played out, yet, at the same time, it was so odd sounding that there was instant confusion among everypony.

“What they hey was that?” Svengallop voiced his thoughts along with the others before the orchestra suddenly silenced them with a crescendo. By now, no matter what anypony came to listen to, Beethoven now had everyone’s attention as the first movement developed. The strings were now taking the lead in this uprising with the winds were joining in their endeavors. Soon the brass followed in this outrage, it was as if the whole orchestra from the percussionist downward had enough and was taking some part in a riot.

Unlike the Countess that came before, there was no distraction; there was nothing at all to sugarcoat this outburst of the sound of anarchy. Yet, even in the chaos, there was some a rhyme and reason that adapted, flipped, punched, kicked, turned over, and changed at a whim with the music that had no structure. Even the very mood changes as it goes from pure rage to pure kindness in an instant and back again. But those four powerful notes were always present no matter where the orchestra turned.

Over the listeners, there was a storm of notes that assaulted them with roaring winds and thunderous drums that was immediately countered by strings and brass that tossed them into a whirlwind of sound. All they heard was raw, unapologetic, and basic but a strong force of nature that was as tough as the earth they stood on that nearly shook.

The Countess looked over to her manager who had only a look of horror, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

That was the problem. As aggressive and uncompromising as it was, it really was not only good, but it had more complexity than any of her client’s songs put together. Even though this orchestra, one that only plays classical music, was giving out a performance that didn’t need anything to hide behind and were putting their all into it. He could practically see all the fans and bits going up in flames. He realized that he was biting into something that was far bigger then he could chew.

And the worst part, there was nothing in Equestria he could do about it. Beethoven was the one that was in control. This music is not a revolt; it is a revolution that was unstoppable.

_*_

A few minutes later, Ludwig let out the abrupt ending of the first movement, in which, from the vibration of his headphones, could sense the audience was already clapping, shouting even. But the symphony had to continue, he gave a moment for them to settle down before moving onto the second movement.

This one was calmer compared to the first, the violas, cellos and the plucking of double basses begin with a lyrical promise of liberty. After the establishment of the theme, the orchestra joins in, contributing to this dream of freedom from fear, oppression, or censorship of their art. There was a sense of childhood like hope that everything that they could ever want was just around the corner. Momentum in the strings that opportunity was near, one in which that it would lead towards a golden age for music. One that was cleaver, better, and kinder, yet, all of them know that such a dream has not been reached.

Octavia looked up from the easier passages over to the audience that was behind Beethoven. In the bright overhead lights, she could make out the sea of faces in the darkness of teenagers that were listening. Really listening! For some in the front rows, they had a look of appreciation of being taken seriously. Even in this slower, but noble movement, the music was reaching something deeper within themselves. There was bewilderment when the orchestra went down a sudden turn or a sharp change in mood as if they were trying and failing at predicting where the music was going to go.

For Ludwig, however, it was the very sound of everything that he believed in mankind when the revolution first came to France, and all the promise it brought of a better future in the name of liberté, égalité, fraternité. Before the bloodshed or Napoleon, this music reminded him of what he used to believe France could pave the way for a better, brighter future for everyone, regardless of class or power. That was until that very dream was blown up in his face.

In the massive crowd, some of them were commenting every so often as the second movement swell and shifted. “It sounds like the soundtrack to a movie.” One said, “Just when you think you got it down, it changes on ya. Didn’t think classical can do that,” said another.

_*_

` The third movement began with cellos and double basses before the brass and violins began a steady march towards that dream of liberty. Now committed to their quest, they seem unstoppable as the notes were going forward to the audience. Even for those who like the Countess’s music, they’ve noticed that their hooves were tapping during the march. Here and there, heads bobbed or lips moved to the rhythm of the giant that even without having a copy of the manuscript in front of him was conducting them just fine. At the very quiet parts, he would crouch down; his back bent low like a lion in the grass before he would stand straight up tall at the louder parts.

For the young that made up most of the crowd didn’t seem to notice how long the symphony was taking. Even most the foals that happen to have bought the ticket for the Countess didn’t seem board from the music changes all the time. Their ears were paying attention to the stage, even when there was very little going on.

From the crescendos to the quiet parts of the scherzo, like that of Ludwig’s third symphony, there wasn’t a single dull moment.

Then suddenly, the strings went out of control from the march and went into an ecstasy of the excited impatient hurry. Again the audience was in bewilderment at this upbeat but confusing change of mood that swirls around them like flies since the notes were going so fast that they nearly seemed to be everywhere at once.

But just as quickly as that odd passage came, it returned to the march, only less confident as before. A few minutes later between the pizzicato and the flute, there were only the low notes of the strings and a drum beat. For a moment, the music took an incredibly dark turn, almost as if the composer was lost – violins wavered as if searching for a way out before growing again in confidence.

Then, out of the darkness, the orchestra came to a blinding and loud light. Piccolo, flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, double bassoons, horns, trumpets, trombones, now shine brighter and bigger than they ever did at the very beginning. Doubt was banished when the strings and wind come charging in to overthrow everypony’s preconceptions of what Classical was meant to be. Joy and freedom were now the order of the day as the orchestra united as one to overthrow the injustice that they were once under.

For ten minutes straight, even when there were a couple of moments of breath, there was momentum, even in those rare seconds of silence.

The Countess bobbed her head to the rhythm of the rich sound while her manager was sweating like a waterfall. He was regretting of even coming up with such competition now that Beethoven was not only proving that he has good music, but it exceeded above and beyond his lowered expectations. His future was up in the air now as the Philharmonic was playing proudly and triumphant.

Several minutes later, although their period instruments were played to near collapse, although the members were barely holding together, they all crossed the finished line as they played the last strong notes before the audience erupted in an avalanche of applause. Beethoven could pick up from the headphones there were screams of approval behind him, turning around he saw the young of Equestria was cheering. He, like the orchestra, though sweaty and ready to fall over, stood and bowed.

Minutes of stomping of hooves and whistles later, Princess Twilight along with Countess Coloratura on stage, walking up to Beethoven. The alicorn held a microphone in her magic and said, “Thank you everypony for coming to the battle of the bands! I must say that was quite the show, wasn’t it?”

The teenagers agreed.

“Alright, by a show of applause, let’s see who won tonight’s contest. Those for the Countess?”

She was given applause to which the singer nodded.

“And those for Beethoven?” That applause was immediately drowned out by a scream. Smiling, the princess said, “Then I declare that the winner is Ludwig van Beethoven’s Revolution Symphony!”

Offstage, Svengallop fainted.

The Countess turned to the giant, tapping against his leg, he looked down at her. “I wanted to sa-”

“What?” Ludwig took off the headphones.

“I said I-”

“Oh,” Twilight interrupted as she snatched the magic scroll from the giant’s pocket. “Wait a second… okay there, as you were saying.”

The singer started again, “Mr. Beethoven, it was a lot of fun doing this with you, and I bow to a skill far greater than my own,” she did so before adding. “I wanted to say that was some very great music back there, I loved it. So much so, that you’ve just gained yourself a new fan.”

Beethoven hummed, “Humility… a very rare thing for those the likes of you. Never let go of it.”

“Sir, since you’re here, I have a copy of your third symphony in my dressing room. Could you please stay for a while and sign it for me?”

“Since you don’t seem to be bitter, I think I might indulge in it.”

The Countess held up her hoof, to which, Beethoven shook it.

Chapter 30: Little Strongheart in B b minor.

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 32: Meine Unsterbliche Geliebte in E b Major.

The first thing that Beethoven noticed as he became conscious was that he couldn’t breathe. Although he felt physically weak, he panicked as he struggled to get a breath of air. In the first short breaths, the cool air came in like razor blades down his throat before he was able to breathe properly. He then opened his eyes, realizing that this was not the same room that he was before the doctors had given him something to “put him under.”

He found that he wasn’t alone. There were two nurses nearby, seeming chatting away about something. Their lips were saying too many words for Ludwig to read off of.

“Was ist passiert?” Ludwig asked softly. His throat was so dry that he could hear that it was hoarse, yet, this did get the ponies attention. The nurses started to talk to him, but the ringing was ever present, “What?” he asked. “I can’t hear you.”

One of them seemed to realized that she has forgotten something before facehoofing, trotting over to a nightstand nearby, she picked up the magic scroll before unrolling it in front of him. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Water,” the composer begged.

The other nurse quickly got a small cup to which the giant gulped it down his desert-like mouth. “Did something happen?” Ludwig asked.

“I’m happy to say that your surgery is over,” the nurse smiled. “The doctors have succeeded in removing your appendix within thirty-five minutes. Since it’s almost midnight and that you're a unique species, we’re going to have you stay in the hospital until you can walk around without pain, which we estimate it to be roughly a week. You’ll be given some pills at certain times to numb the pain while you rest. Now, mind you, we think that you can still be able to walk but only at short distances and won’t be able to stand up for very long. So, before we wheel your bed over to your room, is there anything my assistant can get you before you go to bed?”

Beethoven felt his hand over his abdomen to which he felt some patches where the scares where “I just realized that I hadn’t eaten all day.”

“We’ll fetch you some soup.” After the nurse told the other to go get the food, she pushed and pulled the giant down a hallway. Ludwig took notice again at the needle still inserted in his hand that’s connected to, what the doctors called an “I-V,” made out of clear, bendable tubes that snake up to a bag filled with what he thinks is water. In all honesty, he didn’t understand the need for having a needle in his wrist.

Beethoven was pulled into one of the larger rooms to which he was hooked up to a machine that, as far as the nurse had told him, monitored his heartbeat. “Now if you are in need of something,” the nurse explained to Ludwig as he read off the scroll. “You press this button here,” she pointed to his left. “Whatever you need: food, a drink, asking for more medication or you need help, you just press that and a nurse will come and see you. You can also control the bed to suit to your liking with this over here,” she pointed to another controller with two buttons that had arrows on them. “And the bathroom is right over there, any questions?”

“When can I compose?” he asked, “Is there any paper or pens around?”

“For now, let’s get you some dinner and some sleep. I’ll check with the doctor to see if you could. Just take it easy while I go check on that soup.”

So after a bowl of soup that was as stale as the room, he was in and a quick trip to the bathroom, the nurse gave him some pills. Both of these were meant to ease the pain and the other to help him sleep. About an hour later, Beethoven slipped into the dream realm.

Ludwig saw that he was walking on a stage wherein the middle was a piano. He heard that there was applause as he strides over to the instrument. Looking over, he realized where exactly he was! He was in the Theater an der Wien, his favorite place in all of Vienna to perform his music. Not only that, but it was a full house too with a cross-section of Viennese society clapping.

But as soon as he reached the piano and took a bow, he quickly realized that he had no idea what exactly he was going to play. However, that concern was short lived when he heard a voice ringing in the theater: “Präsentieren ihre königliche Hoheit - Riser des Mondes und der Sterne, die Jägerin der Alpträume, Herrin aller Dinge Spaß, und Mitherrscher Equestria: Prinzessin Luna!”

Taken by surprise, Ludwig, along with the theater’s inhabitants looked spotted that in a box near the stage, the blue alicorn emerged. She was given three cheers as she came into full view, waving to the audience before turning to the composer.

“Hello once again, Mr. Beethoven, I hope that I’m not interrupting something.”

“On the contrary,” Ludwig said, “It seems we were about to start.”

“Well, before you do, I came by to ask you something. For you see, I heard from the Canterlot Philharmonic that you were rushed to the hospital. Is this true?”

The old man looked up at her, “News must travel fast in Equestria as it does here in Vienna.”

Luna gave a confused look but then quickly realized what he meant, “Oh no. You’re not in Vienna, you’ve just fallen asleep.”

“I fail to see what you mean, your Highness.”

“Let me ask you this,” she said as she placed a casual hoof over the box’s gilded railing, “How exactly did you get here?”

Beethoven chuckled, “That's easy, I…” but then his mind went blank. He had no memory before coming to the theater, except… “I’m still in the hospital?”

“I would assume so,” then Luna inquired, “and I would guess that you’re already done with the surgery, which, by the way, how did it go?”

“They told me that they have successfully removed the cause of my ailment,” Beethoven declared, much to the delight of the “audience.”

“Did those doctors tell you how long you will be staying at the hospital?” Luna added.

“Perhaps a week, but you can never know from doctors.”

The Night Princess nodded, “I see. Then I and on behalf of my subjects, we wish you a speedy recovery. So to celebrate, how about we allow you to play anything you wish.”

Beethoven went over to take a seat in front of the keyboard. But as he did so, he looked up as he saw someone walking across the stage, much the whispers of the audience. The woman that approached him was all in black with a veil that obscured her face. “Ludwig?” she asked.

Luna raised an eyebrow; she was just as curious as the audience of who this was supposed to be.

Ludwig immediately got up, and went over to her to place a kiss on her hand, “Unsterbliche Geliebte, ich habe nicht erwartet, Sie zu sehen.” (For the English translation, scroll down to the Author's note. *)

“Sie haben mich nicht etwas für eine lange Zeit geschrieben.” The woman in black said, “Ich hoffe, Sie haben nicht um mich vergessen.”

“Verzeihen Sie mir,” Beethoven said, “ich habe viel zu tun, nach Hause zu kommen, fand ich es unmöglich, Ihnen zu schreiben.” He waved a hand towards the piano bench, “Werden Sie kommen und sitzen neben mir?”

At this point, Luna thought that whoever this was, it must be someone that Ludwig knows personally as the veiled woman took a seat next to Beethoven.

“Warum hast du mir nicht zu schreiben?” she asked.

“Erlaube mir,” Ludwig said as he placed his hands on the piano. Even though the Princess of the Night had no idea what the composer was saying, the music made her deduct further that this woman must be someone that he cared for deeply.

Beethoven spoke again, and as he did so, the stage began to change. Trees materialize from the wooden floor, sprouting autumn leaves that fell in a gentle breeze. “Mein Engel, meine Unsterbliche Geliebte, aus diesem Land der Ponys, ich habe Sie immer mehr fehlt. Gezwungen, eine neue Symphonie zu schreiben, und weit weg von zu Hause, mein Geist wendet sich an dich in meinen peacful von Momenten. Während mit Freundlichkeit behandelt zu werden, und das Land ist ein Wunder zu sehen, ist es die Erinnerung an alles, was ich in Wien lieben, dass mein Grund ist, dass ich zurückkehren möchten.

“Aber keine Sorge, ich arbeite jeden Tag hart an meiner Musik so habe ich das göttliche Privileg, so dass Sie bald zu sehen, wie ich in der Lage bin. Dieses seltsame und wunderbare Land ist insperiation voll, ich kenne eine Richtung haben, in dem ich zu dir zurückkommen. Bitte nicht für mich weinen, ist Ihre Liebsten bald in deinen Armen sein wird.

“Obwohl, ich gebe zu, dass eine solche Rückkehr zu einem hohen Preis zu mir kommen. Der einzige Weg, dass wir wieder vereint wird, ist, wenn ich meine zehnte Symphonie opfern, in denen Wien vielleicht nie hören. So viel wie es schmerzt mich, werde ich erfüllen, wenn es sorgt dafür, dass ich nach Hause kommen sollte, zurück. Obwohl ich und meine Musik wird verblassen, wird Ihre Liebe und Tugend für immer unsterblich bleiben.

“Bis zu diesem gesegneten Tag, ich werde bleiben, für immer dein, ewig mein, ewig uns - Ludwig.”

Luna had overstayed her welcome and made a mental note in sending a gift to the composer when he wakes up.

Author's Note

* For those who are confused at the very end and have no idea what Ludwig was saying, here's a translation of it:

Ludwig immediately got up, and went over to her to place a kiss on her hand, “Immortal Beloved, I did not expect to see you.”

“You have not written me something for a long time.” The woman in black said, “I hope you have not forgotten about me.”

“Forgive me,” Beethoven said, “I have a lot to do to get back home, I found it impossible to write to you.” He waved a hand towards the piano bench, “Will you come and sit next to me?”

At this point, Luna thought that whoever this was, it must be someone that Ludwig knows personally as the veiled woman took a seat next to Beethoven.

“Why did you not write to me?” she asked.

"Allow me," Ludwig said as he placed his hands on the piano. Even though the Princess of the Night had no idea what the composer was saying, the music made her deduct further that this woman must be someone that he cared for deeply.

Beethoven spoke again, and as he did so, the stage began to change. Trees materialize from the wooden floor, sprouting autumn leaves that fell in a gentle breeze. “My angel, my Immortal Beloved, from this land of ponies, I have been missing you more and more. Forced to write a new symphony, and far away from home, my mind turns to you in my peaceful of moments. While being treated with kindness, and the country is a wonder to behold, it is the memory of everything I love in Vienna that my reason is that I want to return.

“But do not worry, I'm working hard every day on my music so I have so that you see the divine privilege soon as I am able. This weird and wonderful country is so full of inspiration, that I now have a direction, where I can come back to you. Please do not cry for me, is your loved one will soon be in your arms.

“Although, I admit that to return is such a high price for me. The only way that we will be reunited is if I sacrifice my tenth symphony, in which Vienna might never hear. As much as it pains me, I will fulfill, if it ensures that I should come home, back. Although I and my music will fade, your love and virtue will remain forever immortal.

“Until that blessed day, I'll stay, yours forever, forever mine, forever us - Ludwig.”

Luna had overstayed her welcome and made a mental note in sending a gift to the composer when he wakes up.

Chapter 33: The Thanksgiving Hymn in G minor.

Ludwig woke up by the sunlight from the window. Much to his confusion, he found the nightstand next to him was nearly overcrowded with cards, flowers, bouquets made out of candy, and small wrapped boxes. There was barely enough room for the magic scroll that laid there on top of his composition book. Beethoven reached up to one of the cards, in which it wished him to: “Get well soon.” He looked through the others that said the same thing and were signed by many other ponies.

He felt the bed shook as he looked up to find a stallion there in a white lab coat and glasses – and for some reason, the coat dull gold and brown mane looked familiar to Ludwig, only he couldn’t figure out why. The doctor waved over towards the magic scroll to unroll it. Reaching over, Ludwig read off what the stallion was saying.

“Good morning Mr. Beethoven,” he said. “My name is Doctor Horse; I’m one of the doctors that lend a hoof into your surgery last night. How are you feeling this morning?”

With his free hand, he felt over to his stomach, “I still feel sore, but not as bad as yesterday.”

The Unicorn nodded, “Very good. I came by to give you a full report of the surgery.” He picked up a clipboard. “The surgery was indeed a success, and it was rather good timing too. Your appendix hadn’t burst when we removed it. Although we did have to up the dosage somewhat on those painkillers in order to accommodate your size. The staff is very relieved that we were able to do it on a completely different species too, which is a first in this hospital.”

He then looked up, putting the clipboard away, there was a frown on his face, “With that being said, I’m afraid that I do have some bad news that you’re entitled to know.”

Beethoven adjusted his bed, “What bad news? I’m going to live, am I?”

The stallion’s ears folded back, “Oh, you are defiantly going to recover from this surgery. Yes. But as we were doing it, we’ve made a thorough test on your blood, and to our alarm, we’ve discovered that along with the high white blood cell content, there was also a huge amount of lead in your system. I don’t know where or how you got so much of it, but yours was borderline deadly.

“So with that in mind, we’ve also checked your other organs to see if they were affected too. I’m sorry to tell you this, but while we can reduce the lead count in your system, it’s already taken a toll on your liver. It’s completely riddled with Hepatic Cirrhosis, which means that all the healthy cells are now replaced with scar tissue that prevents the organ to function properly. It’s nearly full of scares that, while not life-threatening right now, it will be in the near future. I’m afraid sir, that unless there’s another human that comes by, willing to give their healthy liver that has the same blood type as yours… there’s nothing we can do.

“I'm saddened to say, even with our medicine in how much it’s advanced… we estimated that given your size, that you have about, three to five years to live. I’m deeply sorry Mr. Beethoven.”

Ludwig nearly dropped the scroll in his hand. Did he read that right? This pony doctor here said that?

“Nothing?” the giant questioned, “Not even with the magic you ponies have?”

The doctor shook his head, “Everything, including magic, has their limits. While in the hooves of Unicorns, magic can be a tremendous tool in their day to day lives and even in this hospital can be lifesaving, there are some things that even the most advance unicorn doctor or nurse can’t do. Even the Princesses, as powerful as they are, they too have their limits on what they can or cannot do. While somepony like Celestia can move the sun to her will – she, nor her sister, Cadence or Twilight can use a spell to bring somepony back from the dead. Nor can they fix brain tumors when they arise or reassemble nerve fibers that are severed. And I’m sorry to say, your liver happens to be one of those limits. Unless another human comes by to willingly give up his liver to you so we could replace it, there’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

Beethoven put down the scroll onto the bed and stared blankly at a wall in front of him. “I knew… I knew death was coming for me. Even when I heard the humming and buzzing in my ears, I knew death was approaching swiftly. Still, even now, there’s a part of me that refuses to believe that I’m going to follow the same fate as many of the people I know will follow to in the end. Yet, I know that this is true: I’m going to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no cure for my deafness, why should there be no treatment for immortality?” Ludwig closed his eyes and shook his head, “I refuse to give in so easily. I wrote my way out of death before with nothing then the music in my head. I will do it again here. I will seize fate by the throat; it will certainly never wholly overcome me.”

He opened his eyes, reaching for the composition book, he flipped over to the sketch of the Third Movement. "Leave me be Herr Doctor, I have work to do.”

The doctor started to talk, but when Ludwig didn’t respond, he tapped upon the open scroll once again and said, “Sir, you should be resting.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have much time! A good man knows how to die, and if I’m going to do so, then let me do it in Vienna, with my friends and family together. Unfortunately, the only way I can accomplish that is if I were to finish my tenth symphony! I will not rest until it is finished! Now, get out.” But as he started sketching, he looked up to see the doctor was still there. "AUS!!"

_*_

“I can’t do this,” Ludwig sighed as he dropped both pencil and notebook on the bed to rub his eyes. Even with the ideas in his head, the pills he was given were making him drowsy. His mind could barely keep up with the third movement that he felt so near completing. What he needed, was a break.

The door to his room opened in which two white unicorns entered. For the younger, Beethoven recognized, “Fräulein Sweetie Belle?”

Waving, the filly said slowly, “Hi, mister, Beethoven. How, are, you?”

“Tired,” Ludwig said. “What are you two doing here?”

Rarity spotted the magic scroll and unrolled it in front of his face, “We’re here for two reasons darling. The first is that we wanted to come by to see how you’re doing. I trust that the surgery was a success?”

“At least I didn’t die,” Ludwig commented.

“Well… that’s good,” the seamstress said. “I’ve also wanted to apologize for not coming down to Applewood for the symphony. From what I’ve read from reviews, it sounds rather avant-garde that’s welcomed. I’m rather curious as to what it sounds when the record comes out. Still, I hope you and the orchestra are still planning to play the next symphony I trust?”

“All I can say,” Beethoven adjusted his bed. “Since I feel gratitude towards how this town has treated me since my arrival, I want to present my sixth as a gift.”

Sweetie Belle tilted her head, “How do you do that?”

“I’ll think of it,” the composer waved it off. “Now, what’s the other reason you two came?”

“Simply put,” the young sister pointed, “since winter is coming up and the weather is already turning cold, Rarity wants to make you a coat before the snow comes in.”

“I think it’s going to be an interesting experiment on my part,” Rarity said as she drew out a few samples of material and a sketchbook. “I just wanted to see what I’m going to be using, how much, and how you wanted to look. Now, since I’ve already gotten your measurements, I need your help to narrow down some things.”

As her older sister talked, Sweetie Belle craned her neck over onto the bed at what was written and scratched in the composition book, “What’s this?”

“The coral of my third movement,” Ludwig sighed, “But at the moment, I’m getting too tired to complete it. I suppose it must be something those doctors gave me that I’ve been feeling rather sleepy. I want to work on something else, but I’m afraid that I might doze off at any moment now.”

It was then that the young unicorn got an idea, “What if I could write it down for you?”

“Sweetie,” Rarity warned, “Don’t bother Mr. Beethoven.”

Ludwig, however, tilted his head in curiosity, “What do you mean Fräulein?”

“Well, I guess it would give me good practice for one,” she told him as he read off from the scroll. “I kinda, maybe want to be a singer someday, to where I might compose some songs too.”

“Oh mein Gott,” Beethoven moaned into his hands. “A woman composer? Honestly young one? You want to write music?”

This comment took both sisters off guard, “But sir,” Rarity protest, “There have been plenty of mares that have composed music.”

“Like how a dog walks on his hind legs,” Ludwig deadpanned. “It’s not done well but it’s amazing if it’s done at all.”

“Hey!” Sweetie squeaked, “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t learn how to write music as well as you can! I want to learn how you do it so maybe I could use what I learn in the future. Is that a little too much to ask?”

After rubbing his forehead hard, pulling his curly hair back and forth, Beethoven replied: “Maybe it’s those pills what those doctors have given me, but I’ll take whatever help I can get so that I don’t tire out so easily.” Sweetie nodded but frowned, her horn was about to grab the score of the tenth before Ludwig interrupted, “No, I want to work on something else to distract me for a while. Give my mind a break from that.”

“Um… okay? So what do you want me to dictate?”

“Turn to another page,” Ludwig ordered, “You’re going to help me write a movement for a string quartet. I trust you can write in all three clefs?”

The young unicorn nodded. “Isn’t a string quartet made up of two violins, a viola, and cello?”

“Yes, now draw up the clefs for at least several pages, then let me know when you got that done.”

As Sweetie started writing the clef signatures, her older sister showed Beethoven some fabrics and narrowed down some drawings in order to suit is practical needs. When the young unicorn was finished, she hopped onto the bed, next to the composer, she got his attention. “I got it Mr. Beethoven, so before we start, what key is it in?”

Ludwig gave it some thought as he starred at the sterile lights in the ceiling. “No key.”

Both sisters blinked, “No… key?” Rarity asked in confusion. “Nopony could write music if it doesn’t have a key signature.”

“For this,” Ludwig told her, “I cannot write this movement in anything but no key.” He then turned to the young Unicorn, “It’s common time. Molto Adagio, sotto voce…” Sweetie wrote the marking at the top.

“Got it.”

Through the ringing in his hears, Beethoven started to dictate, “First violin, in quarter notes, middle C up to A, then down to G, up to make two notes of C’s before down to F. Bar three, up to G, down to back to F and a half note on F. All tied.”

“Got it.”

“Second violin, bar two, again in quarter notes, middle C up to A, down to a double step of E and G, all tied. Then it back to middle C, E, D, again tied and finishing on low A. Viola clef, bar two: low C up to A before down to G… double notes of low and middle C’s fishing with those same notes as half notes. Cello, bar three: two-quarter notes starting on low C up to A tied, and finishing on low half note F.”

Sweetie wrote down the notes of the first three bars before asking, “Mr. Beethoven, what exactly am I writing?”

“It’s a hymn,” he said.

Rarity looked up, “What’s a hymn?”

“It means, a holy song,” Beethoven replied, “One that I dedicate to God for sparing my life, in order to finish my work.”

“Um…” Sweetie blinked, “Okay?” She readied her pencil, “Shall we keep going?”

Chapter 34: Visiting Hours in F Major.

The next day, Ludwig van Beethoven woke up to even more cards, flowers, and gifts that filled his room. A quarter of the cards that wished him a speedy recovery came from the Canterlot Philharmonic while the rest came from fans that hoped for the same thing. After “breakfast,” Ludwig tried to get back to work, yet the pills he was given still tired him out after a while as he wrote and rewrote bars of the third movement. He wrote in the first theme to single the beginning of the end of the piece, where violins and winds make variations while trying to find momentum when the composer's mind wasn't all there. But after stopping for a few moments to review what he had then he crossed out some of the unfavorable moments.

By noon, visiting hours were now open. He was a little surprised when it was Sweetie Belle that was the first to enter. “What are you here for?” Ludwig asked.

The filly fetched for the scroll for him to read, “Aren’t we going to continue on that quartet?”

Beethoven looked at her confused, “Why would want to still work on it?”

“Because I want to learn,” she said as she opened up a drawer by the nightstand to which she pulled out the sketch. “I’m serious about learning from you.”

“And you think you’ll do so by me dictating the quartet?” Ludwig questioned. “I don’t see how you’ll be learning from me.”

“When it comes to music, I already know how to sing all the key signatures, do all the tricks and all. The reason why I want to learn from you is that you’re the only one I know besides Pinkie and maybe Fluttershy that can come up with music from the top of their heads. So if I’m going to write music by myself, I don’t just want to know how it works, but more importantly why. If you dictate to me what notes to write, I also wanted to know why you put them there.”

After Ludwig adjusted his bed, he looked at her in the eye and said, “Little one, can I ask you a serious question?”

“I guess so.”

“Have you composed any music, all by yourself?”

“Well… no.”

“And why not?”

Ludwig took notice that the young unicorn hesitated, “Well… what if it’s bad?”

“How do you know your music is bad if you never write it down? You are an artist, are you not?”

Sweetie tilted her head, “What do you mean by that, artist?”

“An artist is one who has learned to trust himself. If you cannot do that, you are doomed to fail.”

“Well, yeah, I get that,” Sweetie said, “But with something like this quartet here, how does it work?”

“You are not seeing it,” Ludwig shook his head. “Music, like all art, it never ‘works,’ it never did. All art is a living thing that is connected to the artist. The mistake that my past teachers used to teach was that all music has a set of instructions for anyone to follow like building a lifeless bridge. But I’ve learned that all art grows with the one that’s creating them. This quartet, this music is a living thing, one that grows and develops, and as one idea dies, another grows from it like trees.”

“But how do I create?”

Beethoven thought for a moment and said, “Fräulein Sweetie Belle, I’m going to give you the same advice that one of my teachers had given to me. Although, despite how short of a time I’ve spent learning from Herr Mozart, before I left him, he gave me something that I never fully understood until I went deaf. He said that ‘The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.’ If you’re serious about creating art, then you have to learn how to be patient with the small voice that’s speaking inside of you. Because inspiration cannot come to the slothful when they don’t seek it out and listen carefully from it.”

“Huh,” the young Unicorn looked down at the quartet, looking at the pages. “I’ve never thought it like that way before. So you’re saying if I’m going to write music, that silence is the key?”

“Yes. Silence is the key, but listening is the lock. Once you unlock this, suddenly music becomes a higher revelation than all of wisdom and philosophy. Music is the electrical soil in which the spirit lives, thinks and invents.”

Sweetie flipped over to the last page of the sketch in which they’ve left off. “Okay. I think I have an idea what you’re saying. So, can we focus on working on this quartet?”

_*_

When Sweetie Belle got tired, she excused herself before the next visitors came in. This time it was Applejack and Pinkie Pie. “Howdy there Mr. Beethoven, how’ve you been?”

Ludwig looked down at his bed, “How do you think I’ve been?”

While the farmer ears folded back in embarrassment, Pinkie, however, hopped over to the bed. “I know we haven’t talked, or seen each other, or gone to parties in a while, but I think that since you’re in the hospital that maybe it might be the perfect time to get to know us better!” She then placed on his bed a box that was as pink as she was.

After looking up from the scroll, Ludwig turned his attention towards the present. Upon opening it, the box erupted in a puff of confetti. “What is this?” Beethoven demanded.

Pinkie held up the scroll to him. “This is my ‘Kit-to-survive-a-week-of-boredom-while-waiting-to-walk-out-of-the-hospital-because-of-your-appendix.’ I don’t give these away very often but when word came out that you’ve just had surgery, I had to put this baby together.”

“What’s in here other than exploding paper?” Ludwig tilted the box over to where he could see in it. There he found a clear bag of oatmeal cookies; something called a “joke book;” a mini chess set; a flask of what he hoped to be wine stuffed with a cork; hard candies; a couple of “emergency chocolate” bars; a crudely sketched and put together book entitled “Twilight and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day;” and what really caught the composer’s eye, was a collection of sheet music stitched together. He pulled it out of the box to which he held it up to Pinkie.

She grinned, “Since I know you won’t be able to hear my songs, especially the welcoming song that I sing to everypony that moves into town, I’ve decided to write it down for you, along with all my other stuff.” As Pinkie shifted the scroll to her other hoof, she added, “Do you like them?”

Ludwig scanned the sheet music in which it was a simple duet between the voice and piano. He flipped through the few other songs.

Pinkie nearly vibrated in anticipation to hear what Beethoven thought of them, “I like your songs,” he finally said. The baker smiled widely before Ludwig picked up a pencil and added, “I think I’ll set them to music.”

“Now hold on there,” Applejack said, but Ludwig’s attention turned to the sheet music as he started to write over it. The farm went up to him and put a hoof over it to get his attention.

“What?”

The orange mare picked up the scroll, “That ain’t a school assignment; Pinkie worked hard on that as a gift fer ya.”

“I never said that they were bad,” Beethoven said, “I’m making new arrangements from them. Besides, the mare gave these as a gift, as such; I may do as I please with them.”

“He does have a point,” Pinkie said as she looked over his shoulder, “Besides; it looks like he’s not really changing the melody of the Welcome Song. Huh… never thought of that before.” The party mare watched as her song was rewritten, notes were added, crescendos and decrescendos were placed into the piano part while the voice section was given a new rhythm and trills.

Taking the scroll into her own hooves, Pinkie inquired after she tapped on Ludwig’s arm: “Mr. Beethoven, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a really, really long time.”

“What?”

“I know that I’ve sent you invitations to come to my parties, so how come I’ve never seen you at any of them?”

“Never liked them,” Ludwig simply answered.

Pinkie had to do a double take, then a quadruple, before she started giggling. “That’s a really funny joke.”

“It isn’t.”

Then the pink mare’s jaw hit the floor, “But… But that’s impossible. Everypony likes parties.”

“May I kindly remind you Fräulein that I’m not a pony?”

“So? There’s so much to enjoy!”

Ludwig looked up from the scroll, raising an eyebrow, “Like what?”

“There are friends, and sweets, and streamers, and dancing, and music, and catching up with everypony, and jokes, and you get to see so many ponies smile as they have a good time – lots of things!”

“And how many of those things you’ve just listed require hearing?”

Pinkie then closed her mouth, “W-Well… you don’t need to hear to have a good time.”

“I don’t know how parties are like here in Equestria,” Beethoven said, “But in Vienna, I get invited by the rich for their parties to talk about things that have next to nothing to do with what I’m interested, and I’ve always been expected to play their background music for them. Sure, the food may be excellent each time I went, but when you can’t hear what the person next to you is saying, I might as well spend it alone. I may not know about you, but that has never been my idea of a ‘good time.’”

“Oh c’mon!” Pinkie throws her forelegs, taking the scroll with her as Ludwig could almost read. “Give me a break here! I’m trying to get you to be happy in the best way I know how! I’ve done it well with other ponies to brighten up their day.”

“Is that so?”

“She sure is,” Applejack pipped up. “She’s the best here party mare in this here town.

Ludwig then turned to Pinkie, “Then off with you! You’re a happy mare, for you’ll give happiness and joy to many of your fellow ponies. There is nothing better or greater than that! Besides, you’ve already given me something to be amused over,” he gestured over to the sheet music the party pony has given him. “There are several variations and arrangements I can make out from them. It’s good to have a challenge to the mind when one is stuck in a place like this.”

The apple farmer turned to her friend, “Ah think Ah can take care of things from here. You can go right along now.”

After Pinkie hopped away, now leaving the composer and the farmer behind.

“So Ah reckon that the apartment yer stayin’ is more tolerant of ya?” Applejack asked.

“At least I have a maid that knows what she’s doing,” Ludwig replied as he moved the scroll around.

“Considerin’ how you were when you’d stayed in the barn, Ah can only imagine what those girls are puttin’ up with.” The mare chuckled, “Look, Ah wanna come by to say somethin’ to ya. Ah’ve been workin’ rather hard ta make sure the farm is ready fer the winter that Ah hadn’t had time to listen to yer music. However, Ah have recently given a listen to yer third symphony recently.”

“From an orchestra or a record?” Beethoven inquired.

“It’s from a record that Rarity let me borrow. Ah took a listen to one night after all the chores were done and we’ve eaten dinner. Ta be honest, Ah didn’t really know what to expect, but fer one, Ah was really surprised that you wrote all of that. It was the complete opposite of what we’ve heard when you were playin’ in the barn. But to tell ya the truth… Ah didn’t finish listenin’ to it.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “And why not?”

Applejack sighed, “When the second movement started, the one with the funeral march… It… It brought something back and made me something that Ah haven’t done in a real long time. Ah cried. Somethin' that no music has ever made me do. Now, mind you, when it comes to feelings, Ah’ve learned how to control them and to show it when it’s needed. If you’d ask somepony like Pinkie Pie if Ah ever gets sad, she’ll tell ya that Ah cry on the inside. While that’s mostly true, there’s a little more to it. Ah’ve learned pretty early that there are some emotions that nopony wants ta see.

“But when the funeral march started…” she shook her head, “Ah had to use mah pillow to keep me quiet so that nopony else in the family would hear it.”

“I fail to see why you would cry over a funeral march,” Ludwig pointed out.

There was a pause before Applejack told him, “It reminded me of Ma and Pa… That music dragged me back to the day when we’ve carried them to bury them… Ah tell ya, even back then, Ah didn’t cry once, but… when it was playin’, the saddest day of mah whole life came back that… Ah couldn’t control it anymore. Ah missed them.”

Ludwig took a moment before replying, “As well as you should. I take that your memories of them are happy.”

To this comment, the orange mare tilted her head, “Why? Aren’t yours?”

Beethoven let out another sigh, “I guess you weren’t told about my father, have you?” she shook her head. “My father, he was not what you might call a happy man. While he taught me about the piano, he was never really satisfied. He wanted to me to be as great as my grandfather was, but when I so much as missed the wrong note, especially during a concert, he would beat me. In fact, the only time I get to hear praise from him as if he was drunk… which was frequent back then. He comes home far after midnight; drag me out of bed to practice, all night until dawn when my mother would come to put me to bed, to the sound of the morning bells.” He looked over to where Applejack was, who seemed horrified, “You might say that I don’t miss him as much as you miss your parents.”

“Oh gosh… Mr. Beethoven, Ah honestly didn’t know. Havin’ a life like that would make anypony cry.”

Ludwig chuckled at what he read, “Composers don’t cry. Composers are made of fire.”

“Do ya really believe in that nonsense?”

“I do. Yes I have struggled, and so has my music, but I have gotten so far is because I’m honest about my pain through my art. You can hear it in my symphonies, the concertos, quartets, trios, duets, sonatas, my great joys, and unhappiness is all right there if anyone is willing to listen.” He turned his attention to the composition book on the bed, “Now if you excuse me, Fräulein, I have plenty of work to do.”

For a while, even when Beethoven started to sketch again, Applejack hesitated. On the one hoof, the last comment was rudely dismissive. However, a part of her was sympathetic. To her, family was everything, is not as sacred as the earth she harvest from. Yet, she just heard that this old man had every reason to be bitter on top of his hearing problems.

Made up her mind, she marched over to the composer’s bed, and without warning, jumped up, and enveloped her hooves around his neck in a hug.

“Was machen Sie?” Beethoven asked in confusion.

Letting go, Applejack grabbed the scroll again and said: “We can help you be happy if you’d let us.” With that, she dropped the scroll on the bed and left the room.

Chapter 35: Shadow in the Snowflakes in A minor.

Author's Note

I'm not sure how good this is, but here you go.

Chapter 35: Shadow in the Snowflakes in A minor.

Ludwig continued to work on finishing the third movement of his tenth symphony. He felt that it was so close now that all it needed was an ending. At first, he tried for an abrupt ending with cords being piled on top of another, but he scratched it out because it seemed to abrupt. Then he rewrote it to be much longer, more dramatic but ended up crossing it out because it seemed unneeded. Then he tried for a much shorter conclusion, still, this didn't seem to work either. Never the less, he kept working at it. When he wasn’t working or being visited, he would look out the window from his hospital bed. There he slowly watched the frost starting to creep up on the glass as the Pegasi pushed gray and white clouds to fill the sky.

On the day before he was released from the hospital, Beethoven woke up to the first fall of snow of early December. The hospital staff started to put off a little bit of the festive decorations inside his room and out in the hallway. Scarlet ribbons and paper snowflakes were taped on the walls and pinned on the ceiling. He noticed that when the door was opened, there was a sign that said, “Happy Hearths Warming.”

When visiting hours came, it was Twilight that showed up, along with another pony. “Ah, the doubting Frederic,” Ludwig said as he looked up, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The Pianist rolled his eyes as Beethoven unrolled the scroll, “Hello again to you too, sir. I see that you’re doing well.”

“The doctors told me that they’ll release me by tomorrow,” the old man looked over to Twilight. “So what news have you brought me this time?”

“Well, Octavia wanted to pass the message along and say that the orchestra has begun rehearsing on your sixth symphony, just as you said.” Twilight’s horn lit up and levitated some clothing over to a chair. “Rarity wanted me to drop this off to you, which is good timing considering that the snow is starting to come down.”

“Thank you,” Ludwig nodded before turning his attention to Horseshoepin, “But why are you here? Out of all the ponies I’ve known, I didn’t expect you’re the one that would be visiting me.”

Frederic sighed and stepped forward, Beethoven just noticed that he had a saddlebag on his back. “Mr. Beethoven,” he began. “I… I want to get something off my chest. Since I’ve just seen all your published work that has to do with the piano, I wanted to make the trip here to say that… I’m sorry. I’ve underestimated you, as a composer, a pianist, conductor, not being a pony… everything. Looking back now to what I’ve said, that was insensitive of me, and I apologize for it. It was uncalled for, rude, and now that I’ve seen the published works of your piano sonatas, trios, concertos, and even that fantasy… I’m really sorry for not taking you as seriously as I should have been.”

Ludwig looked up from the scroll, “Why have you come to say this to me now?”

“Well…” the stallion sat down, “Let’s just say that, after playing for you and reviewing your work… You’ve given me the inspiration that I was lacking. Not many ponies know this, but aside from playing the piano, I’ve composed some pieces for it as well. Well… as an early Hearths Warming gift, I’ve written some Nocturne’s that I’m seriously considering publishing, and I’m dedicating it to you.”

Now Beethoven was curious, setting the tenth aside on the bed, the Earth Pony dug through and pulled out a portfolio in which he flipped it open to pull out a sheet of paper. After setting it on the bed, Ludwig took it up, “Is this the original score?” he asked and Frederic nodded. “It’s in E-flat Major… Sehr gute Handschrift für ein Pony.” Ludwig looked on, the sounds of the piano keys started playing in his head that he hums along. “It sounds like an aria… Herr Handel or Mozart perhaps…? No… This is quite new…” he read on further. When he got to the end, he handed the manuscript back to him. “This is good. It has grace, movement, and passion yet, there’s something melancholic about it. Is this the only thing of your work you’ve brought?”

He shook his head, “No sir, I’ve brought-”

“Wait,” Ludwig interrupted, “I haven’t read the scroll, what are you saying?”

“I said, I’ve actually brought all of my work with me, just in case you didn’t like that one.”

“Let me see,” Twilight lifted the portfolio up to the giant in which he got a good look at the several manuscripts there. Beethoven picked up one of Horseshoepin’s draft that had some sections crossed out, “At least you’re not lazy…” he commented. He picked up and looked through several pages, all of the piano pieces from Preludes, Nocturnes, and Etudes, “Some of these are interesting, but the sound of it… I can’t exactly place my finger on it… but there’s something… Polish, about it? I know it’s not in the style of the English, French, or Italians, yet, neither is it exactly German…”

He felt a tap at his side, in which Horseshoepin asked slowly, “So… you… like… them?”

“By the time I go, at least I can rest assured that this world will have much better music. Neither this world nor my own needs another Beethoven, but this world might need you and… maybe Fräulein Sweetie Belle, except she hasn’t shown me anything of her work as of yet.”

Frederic looked over to the lilac alicorn, “Who is he talking about, Princess?”

“The sister of one of my friends,” she turned to the old composer, “I’m rather surprised, why Sweetie Belle?”

After reading from the scroll, Ludwig started to put Horseshoepin’s manuscripts back in the portfolio, “The little one has offered up her services to copy a movement of a string quartet so that she may learn from me. Last time I’ve seen her, she told me that she’s starting to compose music of her own. She expects me to teach her about composition.”

“Really?” Frederic tilted his head, “How old is she?”

“Eleven,” Twilight answered. “I help her with her friends every once a week with their skills to help them find their cutie marks.”

“Oh…” the Pianist nodded, his ears perked up, "Do you hear hoofsteps?"

Over to the door, Twilight turned in time to see a familiar face peeking through. "Um... Am I interrupting something?"

"Come on in Fluttershy," and so the yellow pegasus entered through. "Are you here for Mr. Beethoven as well?"

"And for you too," she looked over to Horseshoepin, "Are you sure I'm not intruding on anything?"

"Not at all ma'am," he nodded to her, "I was showing Mr. Beethoven my Hearths Warming present."

"This early?" she blinked.

"I'll tell you about it later," Twilight told her friend. "So what do you need me for?"

The pegasus looked over to Ludwig who was going through some sheet music. "Can I speak with him first before I tell you?"

Although curious, Twilight waited for Beethoven to look over Frederic's work to where he was able to look up. "Ah, the yellow one that takes care of animals. When did you come in?"

As Ludwig was stuffing the portfolio, the mare timidly approached the giant, "I just got here sir. By the looks of it, you seem to be doing quite well."

"Do I? The food has been terrible and the pills make me sleepy, but at least I get be able to walk out of here tomorrow now that I don't hurt as much."

She nodded, "I see. I was wondering... do you celebrate Hearths Warming where you come from?"

Ludwig looked up from the scroll. "I don't exactly know what you mean, is it a holiday?" Fluttershy nodded. "When do you celebrate it?"

"The twenty-fifth of December."

"Now that's fascinating," he said as he handed Horseshoepin back his music. "Back home, we too have a holiday in which we called... Weihnachten. In which is a very important day that we celebrate that we too put up evergreens, ribbons, and lit candles. I'm not sure if your 'Hearths Warming,' is anything similar to my holiday."

"Oh... Um, Mr. Beethoven, can I ask you a... very personal question?"

Ludwig adjusted the bed and closed his composition book. "That being?"

"Just," she pawed at the tiled floor, "Please don't get angry when I ask this but... what do you miss? By that, I don't mean from friends, family and your country. Rather, what do you miss from hearing?"

Beethoven laughed, "What don't I miss?" then he raised an eyebrow, "Why are you asking this?"

"Curiosity," she simply explained. "I-I mean, I never known anypony that was deaf before. And someone said that you lost your hearing slowly. So, what exactly do you miss from not being able to hear?"

Ludwig looked out the window, "I don't miss music because I've always been able to hear it in my head. Even now. I could hear what a piano sound's like, or a viola, a clarinet, a choir, I can still hear them all when I'm not being able to... But, even with that said, there's a good many things that I do wish I could hear just one more time. The wind in the trees, the songs of birds, the crunch of snow underneath your feet, the laughter and crying of children, the clopping of hooves upon the road, the chime of a bell, the downpour of rain, laughter, the crackling of a fireplace, even voices that I had taken for granted... are now all gone. All the music of nature is lost to me." He turned back to Fluttershy, "It's those little things, those great masterpieces you hear every moment that I miss the most."

"Thank you, sir," she turned to Twilight, "Now can I talk to you?"

"I'll be on my way," Horseshoepin said as he nodded over to Ludwig, "and thank you for your blessing, Mr. Beethoven."

As the Pianist started to walk away from the hospital, Twilight and Fluttershy stepped out into the hall outside of the giant's room. "What was that all about?"

"Twilight," her friend told her, "I was wondering, that after hearing that from Mr. Beethoven, do you think it could be possible to restore his hearing, even if it's temporary?"

The Princess of Friendship shook her head, "The doctors here said that his eardrums have long been damaged beyond repair. Even the strongest hearing aids from the most skilled of Unicorns might be able to restore his hearing for at least a few minutes."

"But what about an Alicorn?" the pegasus inquired. "Twilight, you have more magic now than ever before. I've seen you do amazing things to where you've earned the title 'The Element of Magic.'"

"I know where you're going with this," Twilight stepped in. "But even with one alicorn, it will take an insane amount just to have him hear for an hour."

"What if there was more then one?"

Her lilac friend blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Well, I was thinking, what would happen if you got the other Princess to help you with that hearing aid spell?"

"Wait, hold on," Twilight lifted her foreleg, "Why are you bringing this up, to begin with?"

Fluttershy hid her face behind her pink mane, "I... I don't know. I thought it would be a nice Hearths Warming present to have him hear again, even if it doesn't last."

One sigh later, Twilight and Fluttershy started to walk down the hallway, "I'll tell you what," she said. "I'll look into the medical spells to see what I can come up with. It might be difficult, but after what you brought up, it might not be entirely impossible either."

_*_

The next evening, Beethoven noticed a huge difference as he stood up from his bed. He no longer felt pain in his abdomen, even when he bent down to reach for his new winter coat. After signing some papers and putting his clothes back on, Ludwig was finally able to walk out of the hospital with the composition book under his arm and a walking stick. He paused at a darkened window to taken a view of the new dark blue coat. Now having a proper view of the coat as a whole, it was similar to his usual topcoats by pattern, only that it was much longer as it reached down a little past his knees. The buttons, Ludwig could have sworn were made out of real emeralds, and while the sleeves were a touch too long, they were able to hide his hands from the cold. It also came with a blue hood that was encompassed in a thick, gray fur. After checking his pockets to see the key to his old and new apartment were still there, Beethoven proceeded to head towards the apartment complex.

The clouds above blocked out both moon and starlight, so the only source of light was from the lampposts and lit windows of the town as the composer cut through the park. It was bitterly cold on his face as the wind blew, yet, the falling snow nearly blinded him from where he was going. Then suddenly, all the wind and snow suddenly ceased.

Confused, Ludwig pulled off his hood to find that the lights of the town had gone dark. The only source of light now was from a single lamppost that only illuminated a part of the path he was on and some patch of snow. He swung around until he spotted two, glowing white eyes in the darkness.

"You again!" Beethoven said, this time more annoyed then frighten. "What do you want now? I just got out of the hospital."

A thin hand stretched down the path before it lifted itself, materializing to where the old man could see the outline of its clawlike shadow. Ludwig pulled out the magic scroll from one of his pockets before handing it over to the Shadow.

Well hello to you too. My Employer wished to know how you're progressing with the symphony. May I see it?

Ludwig clenched onto the composition book tighter, "No."

Oh? And why not?

"Because you're just a shadow," he replied. "And shadows, no matter how intimidating, cannot hurt me."

Just as Beethoven was about to turn around, he was suddenly lifted off his feet and felt as if his rib cage to his hips were tightening in a grip like a boa constrictor. He was drawn up to the Shadow's eyes. But was pulled back a little to see the scroll.

Are you sure about that statement, Herr Beethoven? Can we get down to business and see what you have written or do you want to make this any more difficult then it already is?

"My book," he said. "It's in my book."

Gently putting him down, the Shadow snatched the book into its hand, flipping through its pages.

Yes... Very good... Quite interesting indeed. But I'm guessing this Third Movement doesn't have an ending yet?

"I haven't found the right ending for it," Ludwig said, feeling his arms as if they were bruised.

And I also see that you've been working on sections of string quartets as well. Only this time, not as much as the symphony that you should be working on. Good, at least my Employer will be pleased.

"Demon," Beethoven said as he went up and snatched his book back. "Did you happen to know that I'm a dead man walking?"

And why are you bringing this up?

"Because those doctors back there said that my liver had too much lead in it and that I have only a few years to live. So tell me, did you know about that before you kidnapped me?"

What would it matter to my Employer if you're-

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR DAMN EMPLOYER!!" Beethoven roared as he tried to hit the shadow with his walking stick. "Did you, or did you not know about it?"

There was a pause from the shadow.

Let's just say that I found out the same time your doctor told you about it. I was there too.

Now Ludwig's temper was at a boiling point, "Sie Hundesohn! Du Fotze einer schmutzigen Hure! Sie wusste, dass ich sterben würde, und Sie haben nichts! Sprich zu diesem Arbeitgeber, dass Sie die Symphonie vergessen kann, weil sein Begleiter nicht egal, ob ich leben oder sterben! Gute Nacht du Teufel aus den Tiefen des Satans Arschloch!"

He was about to march into the darkness all on his own, but then the shadow flew the scroll up to his face, to which Beethoven froze at what he read.

I didn't want to tell you this, but you've left me with no choice. Herr Beethoven, your adopted son, Karl van Beethoven, is dead.

Ludwig snatched the magic scroll from the Shadow's hand and turned to face his glowing eyes. "What do you mean? I thought you just intended that you've been watching me this whole time?"

Along with picking you up from the ground like a rag doll and was able to sneak around without you or any of these ponies noticing, what makes you think that I can't hear about the news from your world? I may be a shadow, but I'm quite capable of doing so much when my Employer demands it. You see, your nephew/adopted son has become so depressed that he can't live up to your unrealistically high expectations, of always disappointing you, and feeling that he's responsible for your disappearance, that two months ago had bought a gun and put a hole through his head.

Beethoven shook his head, "N-No, you're lying!"

How can you tell if you can't hear my voice? Perhaps I am lying, or perhaps I am telling the truth. Or maybe the fact is that your precious Karl has shot himself, and you weren't there to prevent it. Your nephew is dead, all because you refuse to finish the symphony.

The Shadow was right, Ludwig couldn't tell if the creature was telling him the truth or not. Part of him wants to deny it, yet, another part looked back at how he treated him and wondered if there really was some sort of truth in it.

I do hope you would reconsider. After all, I did promise you that once you're done, you'll go back to the exact same place and time that we've left. So maybe, just maybe, you might able to stop him from shooting himself in the head. Are you sure you want to stop now when you're nearly halfway?

Leaning up against the lamppost and letting his composition book drop into the snow, Beethoven nodded.

Very good. I'll give a positive report to my Employer sir. Until we meet again, Auf Wiedersehen Herr Beethoven.

As soon as the scroll dropped into the snow, Ludwig looked up to find lights from the other lampposts of the park, as well as the windows from the town. Beethoven, with his back against the iron pole, slid down into the frost, picking up both the scroll and the notebook. And then, with the news of Karl heavy in his mind, Ludwig van Beethoven did something he hadn't done as a child.

In the light of the lamppost, he sobbed.

Chapter 36: Beethoven’s Silence in E minor.

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 37: The Forgotten Birthday in D Major.

Over at Sugar Cube Corner, the bakers there were getting into the holiday spirit as creations of sugar and gingerbread villages were being formed on an inside the glass counters where the cash register was. In the kitchen, Pinkie was focused on her work and walls of ginger were pulled out of the oven, cooling, and putting them together with colorful thick icing. She hoof selected the candy in which went into the shingles, the windows, chimneys, doors, doorknobs, the little flags for the mailboxes. Once she set the candy cottage up, she turned her attention to craft each gingerbread pony.

In the middle of making all of this, she paused as both of her ears folded back; tail inflated and got a funny taste in her mouth. To which, she gasped in horror. “What! No! That can’t be!” she rushed over to the counter, “Mrs. Cake, can you take over the kitchen for a sec?”

The blue mare looked over her shoulder, “Sure dearie is something wrong?”

“Yes something is wrong!” she exclaimed, “It’s awful, horrible, and tragically terrible!” she got into the mare’s face and looked at her in the eye, “My Pinkie Sense has told me that somepony didn’t get their birthday they deserved yesterday!”

“Wait, really?” the baker raised her eyebrow, “Funny, I don’t recall somepony’s birthday yesterday.”

“Me neither!” Pinkie said, “I’ve got to find out whose birthday didn’t get celebrated!” With that, she rushed upstairs to her room. The pink mare spotted her pet alligator on her bed, “No time to fool around Gummy,” she said as she let it bite onto her tale, “This is a birthday emergency and I could really use your help.”

She then hopped over to the foot of the staircase and took a moment to pause; looking all around her to make sure that nopony was watching she tapped on the ice cream like post to which it collapsed, triggering the trap door underneath her. With a “Wee,” she slides down the secret slide down to the top secret party planning cave. Pass the mountains of sugary sweeties, cakes, balloons, glitter, disco balls, traffic cones, emergency gifts, wrapping paper, and when she got to the bottom of the slide, she immediately went over to one of the many file cabinets.

“Who’s birthday was it yesterday?” she asked Gummy, who merely blinked. “My Pinkie Sense told me that I’ve forgotten somepony’s birthday, but how can that be?” she pulled open one of the filing cabinets under ‘December.’ “I know everyone’s birthday by heart, so who could I possibly be forgetting?”

Though file after file, the dates on the paper confirmed her knowledge that nopony was having a birthday that week. Yet, in the back of her mind, she knew that she was overlooking someone. “But who can it be? What pony didn’t get to celebrate their…” Then it hit her, “What if…” she turned to another filing cabinet, the one that had a question mark written on the side of it. “What if it isn’t a pony at all?”

From there, she began to narrow down her most likely suspects, “Okay… I know it’s not a gryphon… nor dragon… nor Yak… Buffalo… Deer… Hydra… Draconequus… Haunted Doll…” She narrowed her brow. “And all of them are not in Ponyville, except…” With a realization, she pulled open a drawer and pulled out the only file labeled: Human.

Opening the only thin file she had on that particular species, she looked on the single sheet of paper of Ludwig van Beethoven and saw that her suspicions have been confirmed. Under birthday, she put in, “Unknown.”

Now that she has made her deduction, Pinkie slid back up the slide with a long “eeW” and quickly finding her winter coat, set off to find Mr. Beethoven.

_*_

Ludwig ended up going to Twilight’s library to refresh his mind about the concertos of Bach. To do so, he poured himself into the copied sheet music of the master’s counterpart to look through the harmonic tricks that the composer can use in the symphony. After spending about a few hours going through a couple, Beethoven turned to his composition book to which he would narrow it down a part of the First movement for a violin or two, both the violin sections, viola, cello, and double bass to give it a short concerto of fifty or so bars.

Flipping to the beginning of the symphony, Beethoven reviewed the monk’s theme where the strings all sang in one, sacred voice before that monophonic tone turned into a polyphonic duet in which the sound becomes richer with the winds singing along in their mass. He turned to the last page of it where it ended with the trills of the flutes and clarinets while the violas and cellos seemed to be rising.

It was from there that Beethoven tried to take what he learned from this “Buch,” and wrote out for the two violins a variation of the monk’s theme in the Baroque style. To which the other strings came into play to give grace and momentum to the tiny concerto, not to say that there were mistakes along the way as he accidently wrote in the wrong notes or the rhythm changed the mood he was going for.

Then suddenly, he felt the cold air from behind him and fell out of his seat as Pinkie’s face suddenly popped out from nowhere. The mare jabbered on about something frantic to which Ludwig had no idea what she was talking about. He waved his hand, “Stop! Stop! Let me get out my scroll.” Only after taking out of his breast coat pocket did he permitted her to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday was your birthday!” Pinkie questioned him. “I could have thrown you a party in a heartbeat, so why didn’t you?”

“First of all,” Ludwig started to get back on his feet, “Never come up from behind me. Secondly, I didn’t know it was my birthday.”

The pink mare’s jaw slammed onto the reading desk that Beethoven was working on. “You don’t know when your own birthday is!”

“Birthdays are for the aristocrats. I wasn’t born one, so why bother learning about the day? All I know I was born sometime in December and that’s it. And what did you mean by ‘throwing me a party?’”

Pinkie looked at him as if he asked what color the sky was, “As if a birthday party for you, duh. Has anypony ever thrown you one?”

“Never in my life.”

The mare let out a horrified gasp, “WHAT!! And you’re how old?”

Ludwig shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“W… Well do you know when you were born?”

“Seventeen-hundred-and-seventy.”

“Okay, and what year do you think this is?”

“Eighteen-hundred-and-twenty-five, why?”

“Give me a sec,” Pinkie pulled out a small chalkboard from her mane. “Let’s see… one thousand seven hundred and seventy minus one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five is…” When she solved her problem, she was surprised, “You never had a birthday party thrown for you in all of the… fifty-five years you’re alive!”

“Never.”

Pinkie’s eye twitched at the straightforward response. The very idea that was being presented that someone like Mr. Beethoven go on for fifty-five years of life and never once had a birthday party was not only impossible to conceive, but it was, “Unacceptable!” she cried. “I will not let someone like you to go on with life to never celebrate their birthday! No need to worry, Mr. B! I cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye promise that I will give you the best birthday party that has been long overdue!”

“Pinkie!” Twilight’s voice could be heard from the room upstairs, “Would you mind keeping your speech about through Mr. Beethoven a party down, I can hear you from all the way up here!”

“Sorry!” she called back in a whisper.

“Who were you talking to?” Ludwig asked.

“Never mind that, I really need to get to work on putting together your-”

“I thought I told you that I don’t like parties,” the old man interrupted.

“But not the kind with a large group of ponies?” she inquired. “Well that’s okay, I’ll make it small then, in which I can have it ready to go in no time.”

“I have to work,” the composer held up his music.

“Then we can have it after. After all, you haven’t had anypony celebrating your birthday for over fifty years for crying out loud! Well, today that’s gonna change, I’ll have everything set up in a hour-” just then she felt her right hind hoof itch, her tail swapped left, and her pupils dilated a bit. “On second thought, come within two. See you then.”

“Now wait a-” Ludwig began, but the pink mare had already hopped away, out of the library door. Beethoven shook his head as he put the scroll down on the reading table, “I’ll never understand these ponies.”

_*_

Hours later, the old man reviewed the music in his head. The double violins played around like children with the theme while the rest of the strings tried their best to try to catch the rowdy young ones. Ducking under the lights and garlands, Ludwig hummed and played games with the tune as he decided to head home. Since the mare didn’t say exactly where his supposed birthday party was to be held, he figured that it might be at Sugar Cube Corner, but since he didn’t feel like it, he just went on towards the apartment instead.

After walking over the icy streets, trying not to slip, Beethoven arrived at his apartment. Crouching down, he opened the door and crawled up the stairs to the other door to the studio. After pulling out the key to unlock it, the room suddenly lit up to find that space was occupied.

Above the smiling ponies, the cakes and presents, he saw a banner overhead that read: “Surprise! Happy Late Birthday Beethoven!”

“What is this?” Ludwig asked as he stood up. His answer came when a familiar pink pony hopped up to him, “Oh, never mind,” he added.

True to Pinkie’s word, the party itself was a rather small affair. The guests consisted of Princess Twilight, her assistant, friends and their siblings, his neighbors along with Octavia and Vinyl. After the cake was passed around, the ponies grabbed their wrapped gifts.

Sweetie Belle was the first in line that offered up her gift to the composer. “I’ve… just… finished… it… today.” She spoke slowly as in her light green aura she had with her a rather thin present. Curious, Ludwig took hold of the gift to unwrap it to find neatly written sheet music. He was taken aback at what was written at the very top.

Impression of a Swan by Sweetie Belle. Dedicated to Mr. Beethoven.

“You wrote this little Fräulein?” she nodded with a smile. Looking over, it was a simple duet between piano and violin. Even the notes didn’t seem complicated for the piano part, and neither was the violin. He followed along the simple tune, going over to see if there were any mistakes. Only between the flowing water of the piano and the slow dance of the violin, he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. “Simple… very simple but this piece has promise. There is movement, grace, and emotion at the very end. It has great strength in its simplicity.” He looked up to see the filly’s sister step forward as he was giving her praise, “Fräulein, I’m afraid I’ve been mistaken. You must keep an eye on her because I can hear one day that she might give the world something to talk about.”

After the young unicorn thanked him, the next in line to give him his present was the Cellist and the DJ. He was offered up a box in which, inside he found a pair of black headphones with a single white eighth note on the circular earpiece.

Octavia waved for Ludwig to take out the scroll so she could explain, “We wanted to give you this as part of your Hearths Warming present, but since it’s your birthday yesterday, Vinyl figured that we give you the other half on that day. She hoof picked this specifically for you so you don’t have to borrow hers, and has a reasonably long cord.”

“Well thank you, both of you,” he said as he set the present on the bed. “Since you’re here, how is the orchestra coming along?”

“I think that our first few rehearsals are going splendidly now that we have marked our hoof positions in the string section. The winds are struggling but we think we should be ready in time.”

“Excellent, one of these days I should come up to Canterlot to hear it myself.”

Vinyl wrote down a message on a chalkboard before showing it to Ludwig.

“‘You know, just out of curiosity about the new symphony thingy you guys are gonna play, does the next one have a name?’” Beethoven read out loud, “Yes, it does, but after spending half a year here, I’m thinking of renaming it.”

The gray mare raised an eyebrow, “To what?”

“I don’t want to give away the surprise.”

Author's Note

Coming up next, the Sixth Symphony. :pinkiehappy:

Chapter 38: Hearths Warming Eve in A Major.

All around Equestria as the weather grew colder, the ponies anticipated for the big day of Hearths Warming. Trees and flagpoles were set up, seasonal dishes were being prepared at home, and last minute shopping became commonplace. But in Ponyville, posters announced that the Canterlot Philharmonic was coming to their town to play for them a new symphony by Ludwig van Beethoven. This got the citizens there excited because the concert itself was for free for anyone that would show up.

The Philharmonic had practiced the four movements while given direction from the deaf composer. Telling them to intensify, speed up, slow down, put emotion into this and restrain yourselves that until it was good enough. Once he was satisfied, he trusted the conductor, Sea Sharp to lead the orchestra for the special concert.

While Beethoven kept himself busy, he made careful arrangements to send some gifts of his own. Thanks to the help of Princess Twilight and Spike’s smoky delivery service, he had chosen a particular piece to two particular ponies: Prince Blueblood and Svengallop as a sort of joke.

Then on the eve of the holiday, while the sky was gray, the bright lights lit up the streets and homes of the town. On that day there was a gentle snowfall as the train from Canterlot rolled up to the station. Half of the passengers who came out were the orchestra while the other was relatives and friends who come for the occasion of the holiday.

This was what Spike was seeing as he kept a lookout from one of the windows. Up close to the cold glass, he peered out on a gray afternoon until he finally spotted the very ponies he was looking for. Excited, he ran downstairs, “Twilight!” he called out. “They’re here!”

Before long, there was a knock on the library door. Twilight flew up to it to open the door wide, “Mom, Dad, Shining, and Cadance!” she drew them all into a hug, “It’s so good to see you all again.”

“Hey there little Princess,” the father said hugging her back. “How’s it been?”

“Can we come in?” Shining asked, “It’s really cold out here.”

As the librarian alicorn stepped aside to let them in to which they were greeted by Spike, Princess Cadance stood there in the doorway. “Hey Twilight, are you forgetting something rather important?”

For a moment, Twilight stood there confused until quickly realizing what she was talking about.

“Sunshine! Sunshine! Ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”

After the two of them hugged, Twilight asks her how she was in the Crystal Empire. “Thing have been rather slow,” she explained, “Nothing much to talk about really.”

“So what about you sweetie,” the mother asked, “How are things with you?”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy,” the Princess of Friendship told them as she closed the door. “Between my friends and going over Mr. Beethoven’s music, it’s been a rather productive year.”

“Speaking of which,” Shining spoke up, “Is it true that the giant is having his newest symphony being played here?”

“And it’s tonight for free? Yes indeed.”

“When is it?” her father inquired.

“It’s at seven,” Spike told him. “Down in town hall of all places. You guys wanna come?”

“I don’t see why not,” Cadance said. “After all, it’s been too long since the last time we’ve been to a concert.”

_*_

Hours later, the Sparkle family made their way through freezing winds and bright lights towards the heart of town. There was already a mass of ponies that were making their way through the front door and into the large circular room. In the very center was the orchestra was right above them was a microphone, the wire hung from the tall ceiling that leads to a machine that was right next to a large wooden chair.

Ponies crowed around the tuning orchestra while others took their seats on the many balconies overlooking them – to which, one of them that the Sparkle family found themselves in. “I think I can see why this place was chosen,” Twilight’s father commented, “this place has some really good acoustics.”

“Well it was originally built to give public speeches,” Twilight informed him. “So I completely understand why Beethoven had chosen this place to perform the Sixth Symphony.”

“Speaking of which,” Spike said as he looked down, “Where is he?”

Twilight too leaned over. She could see her friends and her family, along with Ludwig’s neighbors, some of whom waved over to her. Then she took notice of the clock, “Well, we’re still early, I’m sure we’ll get to see him soon enough.”

When the face of the clock showed it was seven, the double doors of town hall opened up where a cold wind blew in the conductor and the composer, both of whom immediately received applause as they made their way to their places. Sea Sharp took out a note and raised her hoof, “Everypony! Mares and Gentlecolts, can I have your attention, please? Before we begin the premiere of the sixth symphony, Mr. Beethoven has requested that I should read this first.”

With her magic, she held it up to her face and read from it: “‘To the Citizens of Ponyville, for the past six months you have taken care of me by giving a place to live, time to work, played my music and have healed me when I needed it, I feel deep gratitude for the kindness you have offered me. For although I still feel homesick, you ponies have gone out of your way to make me feel welcome in this strange land. As such, for the occasion of your holiday, I, Ludwig van Beethoven, have decided that this symphony shall be dedicated to all of you. My gift for your Hearths Warming is that I am changing the title of this symphony, in which it used to be called, ‘The Pastoral,’ has now been changed to, ‘The Ponyville Symphony.’”

There was an erupted applause by the time Beethoven had sat down, took out his headphones for Vinyl to plug in.

The unicorn mare continued, “Also, Mr. Beethoven has said that if any of you would like to clap between movements, you’re allowed to do so. So, on behalf of the composer and the Canterlot Philharmonic, we shall be playing for you: Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony.”

After the stomping of hooves died down, the conductor turned around to lift her baton. The strings readied themselves while Sea Sharp looked over their heads to Mr. Beethoven. With both hands over the speakers of his headphones, Ludwig gave a small nod to begin.

Cellos and violas began low and softly while the violins rise up like rays of the morning sun. The strings grew more with light like a sunrise over a valley. Strings wax and wane before the horns gave it a golden glow that increased in strength as clarinets too joined in. The wind instruments took root like trees, seemingly to welcome the bright morning.

There was nothing cold or mechanical of the sound of the first movement, for the ponies listening, they heard something natural and pure like the forests that surround the town. In an odd way, it was like listening to a long forgotten carol that foals used to sing long ago was now brought back to life. Rich sounds of violins, horns, and clarinets played jokes and games through the forests of bows that rise and fall.

In the back row, the apples could easily imagine their orchards on a warm spring day when the leaves sprout their green leaves and start to blossom. For the families of Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, they heard the music of the wind. Rarity’s imagined their younger days, playing games at the park. Over on a balcony, the Pie family listen on to music that all except for one considered it too sweet. But for each of the Sparkle family, it brought memories of childhood, of games, spells and book fortresses that stood up to many battles during the Toy Wars.

For the Crusaders, in their minds, the first movement brought their impressions of summer while on their never-ending quest for their cutie marks. Each of them had a different memory while listening. Applebloom remembered their camping trip into the wilderness. Sweetie from the time they’ve scuba dived into a lake, while Scootaloo racing through the town on her scooter.

Near the front row, Derpy, Dinky, Lyra and Bon Bon sat up and center as they heard the source of the sound shift from one room to the next. The young unicorn leaned up against her mother, “Doesn’t this remind you of that camping trip way back?” Dinky asked.

Her mother looked down from one of her eyes, “How so?” she whispered back.

“Do you remember that time when you had time off, that we’ve decided to go camping up in the Foal Mountains? Especially on that morning when we saw that sunrise?” her mother nodded.

“And attempted to make muffins over a fire?” she giggled, “How can I forget?”

Beethoven’s Landlady leaned on the candymare next to her. Both of them knew what they were thinking: they started to remembered years ago when they’ve really started talking to one another on that playground. They recalled the games their imaginations play out adventures in which would start out their lifetime relationship with one another.

Octavia, as she paid attention to the score, her bow gliding over the spontaneous notes that go from simple notes to more rhythmically challenging. As much as she tried to stay focus, her mind went into a garden in the spring, when everything seemed to be full of color. Like the music, her imagination became rich with flowers, gossiping birds, and the living, breathing nature of the early morning.

_*_

“That was quite lovely,” Mrs. Shy commented as the audience applauded.

“Kindy catchy,” Zephyr Breeze leaned back against the wall, “Are you absolutely sure he’s deaf?”

“He is,” Fluttershy told him, “Which makes all of this more amazing if you really think about it.”

Mr. Shy tried to shoosh his family, “They’re moving on.”

Indeed, after the applause died down, the conductor led the orchestra into the next movement. Flowing strings and a steady long note of horns began, like ripples in a pond. The first violins establish the opening theme of a lazy afternoon in the summertime. Wind instruments too added to the atmosphere as an impression of a cool breeze. The oboe too painted a clear sky and silent trees that sway with the wind.

For Fluttershy, such a slow and easy pace of this movement were relaxing. It reminded her of the first time she explored the forests surrounding Ponyville. Looking up to the sky at the foliage of green from the maple, spruce and birch trees, she could practically hear the music of the wind from the violins, flutes, and clarinets. While it wasn’t as exciting as the opening movement, the Pegasus did think that it was taking its time to paint a scenic portrait of the land. She could almost hear the soft steps of animals in the distant cellos and double basses.

Snapping for a moment from her daydreaming, she looked over to where Beethoven sat, listening intensely to his headphones. ‘I wonder what he’s thinking about?’ she thought.

Beethoven sat on the wooden chair, listening to as much as he could pick up from the vibrations. His mind transported itself back into the woods near Vienna where he spent many walks with his friends and his nephew. Through the eyes of his imagination, he saw a hodgepodge of memories along the trail in all four seasons. His early attempt at romance in the spring; conversing with his students in the summer; being comforted by his friends in autumn, and scolding his nephew in the winter – Ludwig’s mind went back and forth through the memories of the Vienna Woods. Yet, now hearing the music play out again for the first time in years without him interrupting it, he’d forgotten that there was loneliness too in the violins, though beautiful as they were.

In that crowded town hall, barely anypony were paying attention to the couples that held hooves as the music played on. Mr. and Mrs. Cake nuzzled in the very back, perhaps reflecting on the days they’ve been together. Teenagers snuck in a quick peck here and there, while those who hadn’t had a special somepony looked on towards a crush of their as they daydreamed with the symphony. Even Lyra and Bon Bon fell under the spell as nopony noticed that their tails entertained with each other’s.

Several minutes past, then suddenly and unexpectedly during a melancholic moment, there was silence. Fluttershy opened her eyes in time to see a soloist playing the flute play short, simple notes that sounded like a nightingale, then a high oboe imitated as a quail while two clarinets a cuckoo bird. There were a few bars of strings and horns before that quartet of wind instruments repeated their simple songs. After that, the rest of the orchestra gently ends the first movement before the ponies in town hall erupted into cheers.

There was only one word on Fluttershy’s mind, “Beautiful,” she whispered.

_*_

Octavia took in a deep breath as she turned the page of her score, ‘And now for the difficult part,’ she thought before the conductor moved on. The cellist waited for a few bars as the violins and violas start some short by lively notes before the lyrical clarinets and flutes added to the introduction. She kept time as the music developed from these bouncy notes towards a kind of folk dance as soon as the horns came into play. The music grew as more energetic towards the crescendo-like youth on a sugar high at a fair. The way that the strings interacted with the orchestra was playful in every sense.

The third movement captured everypony’s attention as it played games with them. Strings trotted by as a youthful clarinet pay tag before an elderly horn watches over. Violins and violas engaged themselves in a dance with the cellos and double basses. Horns and wind instruments interacted with one another, making the sound richer and bigger before it suddenly slows down and starts up again.

In the audience, a couple ponies had started to bob their heads as the tune repeated itself. The atmosphere this time was more festive like with the winds and horns giving it some character of Hearths Warming in a sense. In an odd way, it almost resembled a carol without words. There was excitement and joy in the bouncing strings and grandeur when the orchestra combined as one voice.

Pinkie was trying to hum along to the clarinet solo that sounded as happy as she was. There was a sort of build up from the strings before it suddenly changes in tune but not in the mood as if the violins spontaneously started a new dance. ‘Something like the dance-off festivals in the summer,’ she thought.

Indeed, as the movement went on, the foals listening were tapping their hooves to the beat of the ebb and flow of the music.

Even Applebloom’s forehoof tapped along the happy tune, she too was trying to hum along to the catchy melody when unexpectedly, the mood changed abruptly. The little Earth Pony, like everypony else, was suddenly confused when all the joy ceased and the lower sounds of the cellos and double basses rumbled. The violas almost seemed to be trying to get away from something. A section of violins was as confused as the audience as they tried to get an answer to what was going on. There was a final warning from the winds before the orchestra exploded into a storm.

Nopony had expected the mood to change so suddenly, gone was the festive tune which was now replaced by bellowing horns and intense high strings. Even the percussion thundered every few bars, making the younger ones jump at the loud noise. Applejack wrapped her leg around her little sister with a chuckle, but then remembered something she learned about the old man in the hospital. From the thundering drum that the strings instantly screamed in response, the orange Apple could swear that she heard the voice of Beethoven’s father. As the storm intensifies, the thunder sounded more like an angry voice calling out for “LUDWIG!!”

For Applejack, this was not a storm she was listening to, but the very echo of the composer’s drunken father: angry; viscous; cruel; uncompromising beyond belief.

Thankfully, the hurricane did not last long as the darken mood dies down, another takes form. A clarinet starts to calm down the orchestra before a flute scales upward before the clarinet began to sing a new song that the horn echoed. This time the atmosphere has changed again to the very sound of relief. The violins now take on a tune of a kinder spirit, reassuring that everything is alright now, the storm has passed.

Now the ugliness was now being swept away, for extreme beauty of sound rang off the walls of the town hall. It was as if from the destruction came a rebirth of something new into the world. Something greater truth was learned from the struggle in which those who heard it became better than before. No matter how each pony viewed one on another in that room, there was a sense of brotherhood in all of them that united them all.

This last movement encompassed everything that the holiday stood for, a stronger friendship with one another. It brought a sense to pride in their hearts, even to the musicians playing.

In the end, Octavia performed this uplifting, cleansing music to its conclusion. All around her, when the orchestra reached its crescendo, it gently lowered itself down like a sunset. While although soft, it was still grand beyond words. With two final cords, they symphony was over.

A roar erupted from town hall as ponies stomped on the wooden floors. Whistles, shouts of, “Brilliant!” “Bravo!” and “Awesome!” rang out in the circular room, to which did not go unnoticed by Beethoven who finally opened his eyes. Taking off his headphones, he stood up and walked straight towards where Sea Sharp had stood to the very center of the room. After taking turning around in a circle, he bowed.

Chapter 39: Hearths Warming Day in E Major. (Part 1)

Author's Note

Since I haven't updated in a while and this chapter idea is becoming too big, I've decided to split it up a bit. I do hope you'll enjoy just the same.

Chapter 39: Hearths Warming Day in E Major. (Part 1)

The next morning as the sun slowly crept above the gray horizon, foals from all across the land awake with excitement. Yes, for the young, Hearths Warming is the most anticipated day of the year for every filly and colt, especially early in the morning. From Applewood to the Crystal Empire, the chant for “Presents!” was cried out to the sleep-deprived parents.

In the palace of Canterlot, however, two Princesses and a Prince were making their way towards the private family room. As expected, inside the large, elegant room where the fireplace blazed, it was nearly filled with presents and gifts from all over Equestria. Boxes and bags of every shape, size, description, and color were stacked along the walls of the room in bows, shiny paper, and stickers that had their names on them.

Luna practically hopped around the room, “It’s bigger than last year’s! Oh, where do we start?”

“I think,” Celestia put a hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “That the first thing we need to do is to sort out which gift belongs to which.”

“Like what we did last year,” Blueblood rolled his eyes as he went towards one of the piles. “By the looks of it, it might take us days to sort this entire thing out.” His horn glowed, pulling on the rope to summon the servants. A butler came to the door, “Send up some ponies to organize all of this for us.”

“Yes sir,” the servant said, but before he left, they heard the sun princess moaned.

“Blue,” Celestia said. “You keep forgetting that the point of sorting this out for ourselves is so that we get the thrill if finding our names on a gift.” She looked up to the butler, “Although, could you send up some ponies to help clean up the wrapping paper that’s no doubt going to end up on the floor?”

“Right away milady,” he bowed as he back away towards the door.

“But auntie,” the white stallion whined, “doing this ourselves is going to take forever.”

“Get to it then,” Celestia pointed to a corner of the room, “Your Auntie Lu is already at work.”

Indeed, the princess of the moon was swimming in the pile of boxes; her tail only indicated where she was. “Oh! What’s this?” suddenly her head popped out as she pulled something out with her magic. A closer look, the gift was bounded up in brown paper and twine. “Wow! Nephew, you must be really lucky today.”

“Why’s that?” he asked as he approached the pile that Luna was almost buried in.

“This one is from Mr. Beethoven, and it has your name on it!”

He blinked, “Wait, let me see that.” Taking the present into his magic, he immediately opened it by undoing the twine. There he found four copies of some rather short sheet music, he raised an eyebrow. “‘Mark Yonder Pomp of Costly Fashion?’” He read aloud. Flipping each of the pages, he wondered aloud, “Why would he give me this?”

“Perhaps it’s for somepony to play it,” Celestia suggested. “Maybe we could get some musicians to practice this a little so we may hear it? I’m curious about what Mr. Beethoven has given us too.”

“As do I,” Luna agreed before diving back in. “But first thing’s first presents!”

_*_

Inside Beethoven’s head, as he walked through the snow, Ludwig improvised the duet of violins for the first movement of his symphony. He tries to find logic and build yet, figuring out a way to stay true to the Baroque sound. He tried singing aloud the double melody this way and that, but it just wasn’t what he was looking for as he headed towards the Golden Oaks Library. The reason for going was partly for research and partly because Princess Twilight had invited him to have breakfast for the sake of the holiday.

Upon approaching the front red door, he tapped it with his walking stick when a familiar dragon peak his head through. He smiled and opened the door widely, “Happy Hearths Warming, Mr. Beethoven,” Spike said slowly when Ludwig ducked and crawled inside.

As he expected, the library was nearly crowded with ponies of the family and friends of Princess Twilight. All around him garland hung on the walls with the colorful tiny lights while he smelled something familiar, “Is that apple strudel?”

Spike nodded. He waved for him to take out the magic scroll. “Yeah, AJ and Pinkie have been in the kitchen nearly all morning making breakfast for everypony. Besides, there are some ponies here that really want to meet you.”

“Like who?” From the corner of his eye, he saw the lilac princess leading two other ponies.

“Good morning Mr. Beethoven,” Twilight nodded, “I would like for you to meet my parents. This is Night Light and Twilight Velvet.”

“Why?” Ludwig questioned.

The gray mare next to the princess steps forward, “Hello sir. We wanted to see you after that concert you gave.”

“The Sixth Symphony?” They nodded. “Well before you go on, where can I get breakfast from? Your daughter here promised me food.”

Night Light motioned his head towards a table to which the giant took the hint. After taking up several pieces of strudel, Ludwig sat on the stairs while Twilight held up his scroll to read off of. The father started with, “I wanna say that what we’ve heard last night was incredible.”

“Beautiful even,” Velvet agreed. “It’s rather amazing that even given your uh… condition, that you were able to put together something so stunning.”

“Vielen Dank.” Both parents blinked before Beethoven clarified, “I mean, thank you. I wrote it before I became fully deaf, all in memory of what I miss most.”

“Missing what?” Ludwig looked away from the scroll, only to find that the three of them hadn’t moved their lips, but did catch that it was coming from another alicorn. This time, this new pony was bright pink. By her side was a familiar stallion that the composer swore that he had seen him before.

Reading the confusion on his face, Twilight introduced Beethoven to her fellow princess, Cadance of the northern Crystal Empire, “And you already have met my brother,” she added.

“I have heard so much about you,” the princess of love reached a hoof out to him; only he didn’t reach his hand out to shake it. “Um… Well firstly, I think I speak for everypony here that we’re all impressed with your latest symphony. It fit pretty well with the holiday and I can’t wait for the record of it to come out.”

“You’ve heard my symphonies?” Ludwig asked.

She waved her wing over to Shining, “You can thank my husband for introducing them to me. In fact, you have a surprising effect on not just on the empire, but on Equestria as a whole. It’s really never seen before.” The giant raised an eyebrow so she continued, “You see, the youth over where we rule over have always wanted to hear something new. They once considered the classical stuff like Buch and Moztrot to be tiresome and not worth listening to. Then when your records came along, the parents told us that your music had an interesting effect on their lives. From them, they told me that these symphonies are teaching them patients and the importance of listening. Your music is able to emphasize their conflicting emotions, especially among teenagers to channel their feelings constructively. And I think you’ve might have sparked a craze in the empire in which more of the young want to learn how to play an instrument.

“With all of this in mind, I do have two questions to ask of you. How did you do it?”

Beethoven thought for a moment before replying, “I’m not sure why your ponies like my music, but I think it might have to do with one of the very few lessons that Herr Mozart had taught me.”

“And that being?” Shining inquired.

“He told me a story that I would never forget,” Ludwig explained after taking another bite of the strudel. “Herr Mozart told me that years ago, the Emperor of Austria had plotted a surprising duel at improvising the piano with another virtuoso. Clementi, I think it was, who after going first, had proved that he was able to improvise more brilliantly, faster, and did technical feats that nobody had done before until that night. Mozart was stunned that this pianist had outplayed him before he got to the piano, yet, on that night he won all the same. Do you know how?”

The Sparkle family shook their heads.

“When Herr Mozart sat down at the piano, he didn’t impress everyone by playing quicker by Clementi’s technique, because there was no point in that. Instead, he played to where it moved them to tears, and that was the secret. Anyone could play the right notes and learn how to play even the most difficult of pieces – but to play it without passion or express an emotion would be forgettable. That’s why my music stands out, even from this new music. It has impressive technical feats of sound, but hollow in real emotion.”

“I see,” Cadance nodded. “One last question, now that the sixth symphony has been played, what’s next?”

“If everything goes right, and I am able to go back to my home, I would like to have the Philharmonic play the rest of my symphonies, my seventh, eighth, ninth, and perhaps my tenth. Other than that, I want to put together a few other things.”

Twilight’s mother raised an eyebrow, “And that being?”

After taking a bite from his breakfast, he said, “I want to personally play my fifth piano concerto. Organize this country’s best string players to play out some experimental pieces for my string quartets. And I want to organize a quartet of singers, along with a choir to perform my best vocal works such as my Choral Fantasy, a Mass in time for the first day of spring, all of which would be merely practice for the ninth.”

“What’s a mass?” Night Light inquired.

“It’s…” Ludwig trailed off as he thought for a moment, “I sometimes forget that no one in this world has even heard of Christianity. Well… to put it in the most simplistic of terms, a mass is a holy rite in which we Catholics take time to worship and remember God. It is why I wanted to play my finest work on the first day of spring, for it is the most sacred day of the year in which would be a perfect time to sing it in the original Latin tongue.”

“Now that would be interesting,” Twilight commented, “I mean, hearing a piece of music in a language that’s completely unknown to us. Of course, chances are that we might need you to help pronounce the words. Oh! Speaking of which, Mr. Beethoven, I have a present for you.”

“That being?” Ludwig asked as he finished up his breakfast.

“Well, I have something that would interest you, a spell really, in which I think you would defiantly like. To put it simply, there is a way to temporarily restore your hearing.”

When Beethoven read this, he dropped his plate, sending it tumbling and smashed on the wooden stairs. “What did you say?” the old man grabbed the scroll.

“The good news,” Twilight explained, “is that I have found a spell that, if it works, could be able to restore your hearing to make it as clear as the day you were born for an entire day. While it would require all the princesses to compensate such an enormous amount of power, I’m afraid that there is a downside. That is if it works, it’ll only work once. You see, the spell will enhance whatever sensitive part of your eardrum is left, but in doing so, it’ll permanently damage it to the point where if it works, it cannot be undone nor attempted again. Which means that you’ll have to choose carefully a particular day in which you’ll be able to hear again for a full twenty-four hours.”

Ludwig looked at the scroll in disbelief, “You can give my hearing back?”

“I’m only 87.274216945% sure that it will work,” Twilight told him honestly. “After what’s been going on, and that you’ve let us hear to some amazing music, it’s the least we could do.”

“Well then,” the giant stood up, “I’ve already decided the exact day. But for now, for such news, I would like to return a favor.” He walked over toward the kitchen, ducking through the low arch and towards the standup piano. After sitting down and looked over his shoulder, seeing how Applejack and Pinkie were taking notice of him, he asked for them a spoon.

Twilight and her family crowded around the piano, after putting the magic scroll onto the piano, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I normally don’t do this, but since I feel deeply grateful for the gift you’ve given me, I too will do the same. I’m going to give you, Princess, a march of thank you.” Setting the spoon in his teeth and letting the other end touch the piano. Setting his hands upon the keys, he began to play upbeat notes of a proud song.

Chapter 40: Hearths Warming Day in E Major. (Part 2)

With his present, a copy of Buch’s music, his composition book under his arm while holding onto his walking stick and waving a pencil in the air in the other, Beethoven walked through the town, humming loudly as he conducted the mini-concerto in his head. Over slippery ice and snow that crawled up to his knees, Ludwig trudged through the winter’s day towards the music-themed cottage, completely unaware that the sun was casting a double shadow behind him. Hearths Warming day was still young as it was now the afternoon when Ludwig went up to the door and knocked it with his walking stick.

It was answered by Octavia, “Hello Mr. Beethoven,” she stepped aside to let the giant in. As he did so, he took notice of the mess of wrapping paper that sprawled about on the floor. Over by the couch, the DJ held a garbage bag, stuffing it with one misshapen paper at a time. The Unicorn looked up and gave a wave.

“Frohe Weihnachten für euch beide.” Ludwig began to take off his coat, “I see that I’ve missed some excitement.”

Both mares were confused for a moment before Vinyl took up her notepad.

Nah, this is how this place looks like every year after we’ve opened up all the awesome gifts.

“Speaking of which,” Ludwig took out the brown present that was held together with twine. “Before we get down to business, I have a gift for you two as well.”

Curious, Octavia took hold of the package in her mouth while Ludwig dug into his pockets for the magic scroll. The gray mare hopped over to the couch to which she and Vinyl opened it. After cutting the twine, they pulled off the paper to find three bounded sheet music.

“Piano Trio No. 3 in C minor?” Octavia read aloud, “And you’re giving this to both of us?”

“Of course,” Ludwig said. “Apart from Princess Twilight, you two have been a huge help in this new world. Being musicians yourselves, I thought it was appropriate that I give you both something that is challenging and interesting in of your fields.”

“Speaking of which,” the cellist turned to her roommate, “go get Mr. Beethoven’s present.” While the white unicorn left the room, Octavia approached Ludwig. “Since you’re here, we want to give you a collective gift from us, Fluttershy, and that cow pony from Appaloosa. Vinyl thought it would be a good idea to put all of our Hearths Warming presents into one box.”

Vinyl came back into the room, and in her aura, there was a small red and green box that was tied in a yellow bow. As Ludwig took it into his hands, he untied the bow, pulled off the lid and dumped it out into the palm of his hand. It was about the size of a card, with buttons, some kind of wheel, and a glass-like window just above it. “What is this contraption?” he asked as he looked over the scroll.

“Well, to put it in a nutshell,” Octavia explained. “It’s a portable music player, something that Vinyl has when she wants to listen to her music. You’ve seen it before several months ago, but now you have your very own. It contains hundreds of songs and pieces of music that I have carefully hoof chosen for you. Also, it has Fluttershy’s and a…” she looked over to Vinyl, “What was that bloke’s name again?” The DJ wrote her answer. “Ah right, Braeburn Apple’s records too. This is meant to be used with your new pair of headphones to listen to.”

Beethoven looked at the device once more, “How does this contraption work?”

It was then that Vinyl stepped in. Through her notepad, she wrote and pointed out the workings of the music player. From how to turn it on and off, how to charge the battery, how to access and make playlists, and even selecting a song, after all, this was done, the DJ gave him a pair of earphones as she showed him the message:

You probably want to listen to something called, “Braeburn’s Audition,” I think you might really like it.

After plugging the headphones in and placing it over his skull, Vinyl selected out the particular recording and let it play.

There was a pluck of a violin string before there was a still moment. Then suddenly, through the vibrations, came the first chord of the violin. For the first few seconds, the violin hummed on double stings as if it were tuning or finding an idea to work off of. Then the piano came onto the scene, its minor key gave it a direction towards something mysterious. Braeburn’s violin, curious at the prospect, began its journey, cautiously at first towards the wilderness as the piano walked with it for the start of the journey.

Beethoven closed his eyes and waited, he wanted to hear the part where the violin springs forward, its steps quickening towards a forest of notes. Then suddenly, the duet sprung into a race into the unknown. Every so often in this race, both instruments caught their breath, to take a moment to take in the wondrous scenery of the uncharted land before springing off once more through rocky chords and muddy quick notes.

Such energy was this violinist from a desert town! What lightning and thunder from those hooves that expertly play out even the most difficult of passages with grace! As Beethoven listened, he wondered how come no one in this world has heard his playing like this before.

He felt a tug from his overcoat, cracking an eye, he found the cellist pulling on it with her mouth. Her head tilted towards the scroll, but Ludwig frowned. “What is it? I’m trying to hear the music.”

With a sigh, Octavia got a hold of the scroll, and making sure that the composer was looking at it, she asked, “How did you get that record from Appaloosa in the first place? We know it was addressed to you, but why?”

Putting the violin sonata on hold, Ludwig took off his headphones, “Because I want to put together a string quartet of the finest musicians in the land to play some new work of mine. I have sketches of music that I want to experiment if anyone would like them. This pony in that desert town has very good skills at the violin, and I know about your playing on the cello, but I also need another excellent violin and violist too. As soon as I polished those pieces, I want to assemble this quartet to play it.”

Octavia blinked, “Okay… And when do you expect us to play this?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps by around spring if I’m lucky,” Ludwig then looked at the device again and noticed the other songs listed. “This is such a useful invention, I think it has that Buffalo chants on here too, just as I asked. Though I wonder what else this thing has…” he scrolled through the playlists and spotted the names by the titles. “Ah! This is perfect! There are works of Buch on this thing, work on my symphony is going to be so much…” Then he stopped at a name and raised his eyebrow, “Who is Vifilly?” he shook his head, “Probably no one important. Now, what else does this have?” He scrolled further down until something caught his eye.

Nature – by Fluttershy. 6:27.

“Was ist das?” he pushed a button on the device, and instead of the headphones vibrating sounds of music, what he heard was something surprising.

For the first time in seven years, though it was faint, he could hear the chirping of birds! He nearly dropped the device as he could detect the familiar sound of wind blowing in the trees and the rustle of leaves as someone was walking through a forest. Birds cooed and chirped on his jawbone as Ludwig pressed the headset firmly against his head, trying desperately to hear natures voice once more. Every so often, he could barely hear a dog barking somewhere while the birds continued on with their chat.

Then he quickly took off the headphones and put his hands around his eyes, trying to hold back of what he picked up. It wasn’t until Vinyl tapped on his knee that he looked up.

Is something wrong?

Beethoven shook his head, “No. No. That was the kindest piece of music I’ve ever listened to. Quite thoughtful really, but I’m getting too distracted. We need to discuss future concerts.”

_*_

“Are you absolutely sure you want us to play this?” the pianist asked, looking over his shoulder.

Prince Blueblood raised an eyebrow, “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

The quartet, a Violinist, Cellist, Pianist, and a Tenor looked at one another, “I wouldn’t say that,” the singer said. “It doesn’t have anything propane to the Royal ear.”

“Now I’m curious,” Luna commented as she leaned back against the couch in the music room. “What has Mr. Beethoven given us that make you four so nervous?”

“Do play anyway,” Celestia told them. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

The other musicians turned to one another before flipping open their copies on their music stands. Both violinist and cellist readied their hooves over the strings, ready to pluck it. The violinist lifted her violin, singling the others to begin. There was a pizzicato of strings and a cascading piano began to play before the violin and cello put their bows to play a Moztrot like melody.

In Prince Blueblood’s mind, he thought that maybe all the suspicions of the giant sending something vulgar were melting away. Maybe this piece is a song of forgiveness for him calling the composer a pig.

Then, the Tenor sang:

“Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion

“Round the wealthy, titled bride:

“But when compared with real passion,

“Poor is all that princely pride.”

Blueblood’s expression quickly turned into a sharp frown.

“What are the showy treasures?

“What are the noisy pleasures?

“The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art:

“The polished jewels' blaze

“May draw the wondering gaze;

“And courtly grandeur bright

“The fancy may delight,

“But never, never can come near their heart.”

“Stop at once!” the Prince commanded. All the instruments died out before any of them could go onto the second verse. “What was that?”

“We tried to tell you…” the Tenor trailed off.

At his side, Blueblood heard his aunts giggled, “What?”

“Oh nothing,” Celestia mused, “Though I must admit that song is rather an accurate portrait of you.”

“What!”

“It’s true,” the sun princess said. “If anything, knowing your nephew is that Mr. Beethoven’s song perfectly describes you in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Really?” Princess Luna chimed in. “In fact, let us see that sheet music,” her horn glowed at the tenor’s copy and floated over to her. “From this thing, it’s right that you’re not that passionate about anything that we know of.”

“Yes, I am!”

Both alicorns raised their eyebrows, “Name one,” they said in unison.

“Well…” Blueblood trailed off, looking at his aunts back and forth, “I’m good at establishing connections with foreign ambassadors?”

“But not with Mr. Beethoven?” Celestia questioned.

The eyes of the prince twitched. “It’s not my fault that he gets offended at a drop of a hat.”

“Even when you called him a… as you say, ‘hotheaded swine?’” Luna interrogated. “Other than that, ‘gaudy glare of vanity and art,’ is another good description of your spending habits.”

“We’re royalty Auntie Luna, we’re supposed to set an example of taste.”

“Especially when you have a bathroom that is a golden leaf, a rococo style where even the ceiling is painted with extremely attractive pegasi? Not to mention that the toilet is covered in large diamonds, the rug is made out of Zebrican lion manes, and the tiles on the floor have been shipped from the Crystal Empire?” Celestia asked. “I understand enjoying extravagance, but that alone is just tacky.”

“It’s not tacky!” the Prince objected. He got up from the couch, harrumphing, “For now on, I don’t want to have anything to do with that deaf ape!” he stormed out of the room, slamming the door for good measure.

“We’re defiantly going to hang on to this, aren’t we?” Luna inquired.

Her elder sister smiled, “But of course, it’s catchy too.”

Chapter 41: New Year in C # minor

The day after Hearths Warming, Ludwig was back to work once again. Lyra, Bon Bon, Derpy, and Dinky knew that he was at it again when the familiar sounds of marching feet, nonsensical singing, banging chords and splashing of water could be heard above their heads in the mornings. Bon Bon, in particular, was grateful for the new radio so that she could turn up the volume whenever her neighbor was making nonsensical noises overhead. On the morning before the start of a new year, Lyra looked up from their dining room table from her breakfast and said, “What do you think he’s doing up there?”

The Candymaker shrugged, “Probably back to composing again. Did you take a look at the state of his room?”

“I did,” the Unicorn cut an orange in half, “he’s back to writing on the walls again. Only this time, I think he’s writing notes too in a language I’ve never seen before.”

“How do you know they’re notes?”

“Like the other day when Mr. Beethoven has gone out for his walks, I went in to find the maid was copying the stuff on the walls right? Well, I’ve noticed that it was scribbled with arrows and I did pick up some of the names on the walls like Buch, Vifilly, Moztrot, Little Strongheart, but that’s all I could read next to the musical notation. Some of it was crossed out while others were circled. It’s like he’s trying to organize something.”

“Maybe it’s the new symphony or something,” Bon Bon shrugged. “Speaking of which,” she picked up the newspaper nearby, “I’ve read somewhere that the Ponytones are going to be singing live tonight for the first time on the radio.”

“Really? What are they singing?”

“Some arrangement by Mr. Beethoven,” she answered. “It’s gonna be playing on the national channel, and it’s suggested by the composer and Princess Celestia herself.”

“Think we’ve might give it a listen to it when the clock strikes midnight?”

Bon Bon shook her head, “No need apparently, given this guy’s popularity, anypony with a radio might be tuning in, since its being broadcast throughout the country.”

“Well, I guess we might as well give it a listen to at the party tonight.” The stomping from overhead ceased, “You think we ought to invite him?”

“Something tells me that he’ll be too busy to attend it,” Bon Bon commented.

_*_

On paper, the two violins played faster, higher, adding double steps to the chords to which it got so high that in Ludwig’s eyes, it collapsed. With a frustrated growl, his pen smothered the offending phrase out of existence before ripping the page altogether. “Verdammt! Diese Balken wird nicht funktionieren.” The feeling of it wasn’t quite right, nor was it the tone of those dueling violins in the first movement. It was as if Beethoven was overlooking something important.

Over by his nightstand, he looked over at the charging music player and his pair of headphones. He needed a break and time to reflect on what he was going to do next. He got up to put them on while going over his notes that have been circled. After finding the name, he turned on the small device and scrolled down the playlist until he came to a piece that piqued his interest.

It was the First Movement of Vifilly’s Violin Concerto in A Minor that he pressed play on. Pressing his hands against the speakers, he felt the vibrations of the violins and harpsichord in their menuet. In his imagination, this old fashioned music danced around in their strange Venetian masks. Given its minor progressing chords, he saw it was night time in his mind’s eye, probably sometime during the crazy Carnival that he heard about. It was dark but reeked of elegance at the same time in its entertainment. When the solo violin came into play, it dances its own ballet alone, leaping and sidestepping in and out between the light and darker keys before the rest of the strings copied the soloist’s variation.

This dancing movement of the simple strings was lively as it was mysterious. Almost like a star ballerina with its twists, bends and jumps upon the grand stony plaza where it wasn’t flooded. The other strings moved about in waves like the waters that famous city was built upon in Ludwig’s mind.

Going back at the only standing piano with the music player in his pocket, he looked back at the mini-concerto in the first movement and realized what it was missing. A dance-like movement in the melody – with the music still playing on his skull, Ludwig sketched the offending passages to intimidate the ballet of strings, crossing out the winds while at it.

Yet, unlike the composer he was half listening to, he suddenly got an idea to let the dueling violins to play continuously in this tiny concerto of his symphony. Where notes hung as the Allegro stepped over to Largo and suddenly leaps back to the Allegro again. Even after the music from the tiny machine faded away, Beethoven found his inspiration to complete it, leaving only the fugue in need to be taken care of.

Eventually, his hand was aching from the rewrite. ‘Alright, at least I have a good outline of that part now. I guess I can write up the strings by tomorrow… But what about the Fourth Movement?’

So sitting back down on his bed went through the playlists to sample pieces that Little Strongheart had recorded for him. Up until now, he hadn’t settled on how the Fourth Movement should be structured. But Ludwig had already narrowed down to three interesting recordings for inspiration and deleted those he had no use for.

‘The closing piece needs to be something different,’ he thought. ‘Something that no other composer has ever done before, but the question remains is how? I want this to stand out from any other movement of all of my symphonies. Only, how exactly is one to write it?’

He first selected from the playlist a song called, “The Medicine Chant.” The first thing he could pick up from the vibrations was an odd rattling of metal for several seconds before a solo wind instrument took the lead. In all of his years and his memory of each instrument, Beethoven heard nothing like it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a bassoon, nor a clarinet, or piccolo, or even a flute. But as the rattling became a beat with the drums, Ludwig thought that this wind instrument was something ancient.

Then from his jawbone, he picked up voices in a language he couldn’t understand. It had a rather odd effect on the instruments as the voices were not keeping to the same beat. As more voices came into the chat at different octaves, it became interestingly complex as this chant without a melody became richly textured. It was like a primitive fugue only there wasn’t a subject, much to Ludwig’s curiosity.

What interested in this chant that even with all its layers of sound and timing, there was not a moment of disharmony in it! Somehow, in some way, while each member performing was playing a few simple notes, it was in a way timeless that any note could go to any other note. As he listens carefully as he could through the ringing in his ears, he could have sworn that they managed to find harmony, even when the singers weren’t in the same key!

‘Could such a thing be possible?’ he wondered. ‘Is it possible to break every rule of composition and still result in something so complex?’

When that chant ended, the next song began; this one was called “The War Chant.” It started as a steady drumbeat when a solo voice started the melody in that strange language. Not too long, the beat of the drum became sharper sounding, darker even as more voices joined in the chant with the rattling metal sound. As the beat became faster, more voices joined in as shouts and calls flew up like frighten birds. Ludwig could imagine warriors, long before recorded time, preparing themselves for a fierce battle against their enemy. Crowing and intimidating battle cries became more visible as the beat became faster still. It was if an army of Ravens with spears, bows, and arrows were singing this before they charged at their pray.

Before he moved on to the next song, Ludwig paused it as he had an interesting thought, ‘Nearly every symphony, from every composer, has ended their music on a triumphant note. Why my last one was a tremendous rush of joy to the very end – a happily ever after. But this music… this ancient music… there’s a sense of melancholy to its complexity.’

With this thought in mind, he presses play for the last listed song, simply titled “Lullaby.” From the vibrations, he heard that voice again, only this time; there was no drumbeat, just the voice that was singing slowly. Relaxed, calm, but somehow sad in his language, the melody Beethoven noticed that it was in a steady, minor key.

Then, came the wind’s solo. That unknown instrument repeated the melody from the beginning, yet, gave an almost improvise sound as it progressed. To Ludwig, it seemed sadder but still beautiful like a dying bird. Even at its crescendo, the instrument was soft like a grandmother’s voice.

As Ludwig was listening, a thought came to him, ‘Perhaps, the only way to end this symphony, was to tell a unique story, in a unique way. It will end with tragedy, in which my symphony will end like this: soft, simple, lonely, but beautiful nonetheless. Just as it began with the cello… it will end with the cello.’

Opening his eyes, he went over to his composition book and flipped over to the near back of it. There he wrote in his idea: “4th Movement: Adagietto. Die Zukunft Pathetique.”

_*_

Later that evening at Sugar Cube Corner, Pinkie was throwing the annual New Year’s celebration as ponies danced, talked and played games until midnight. In one corner of the shop, the cake’s new radio was playing, providing the background noise for those who ate and drank the night away.

Sitting at a table, Octavia found herself talking to the Princess of Friendship. “So Ms. Melody,” Twilight began, “any news from the orchestra?”

“There is, Your Majesty,” the cellist replied. “Starting in a few days, we’re going to tackle a piece for violin and orchestra, an Overture, and his Seventh Symphony. This time, we’re planned to go to Baltimare to play a concert.”

“How difficult are these pieces?”

Octavia looked at her with a deadpanned expression, “It’s Beethoven, how hard do you think they are? But anyway, at the same time, Ludwig wants to hold an audition for the sole purpose of putting together a string quartet to play some experimental pieces he’s written during his time in Equestria. After that, we’ll go to Vanhoover to perform this piece in a language nopony understands, and to play it right after Winter Wrap Up.”

“I somewhat remember Mr. Beethoven talking about that,” Twilight nodded. “I think it’ll be interesting to see what it sounds like.”

“Do keep in mind,” Octavia pointed out, “That’s just the winter season. I can’t imagine what the spring will bring for us.”

“Hey everypony!” everypony turned as Pinkie announced, “It’s almost time for the countdown!”

“Turn that radio over;” Applejack called out, “Mah brother will be on any minute now!”

There was a hush as the radio was changed to a different station. It was turned in time as a pop song was ending and a stallion’s voice came to the air. “Once again, thank you for joining Equestria National Radio 100.7. We’re now a few moments away from the start of a new year, and joining with us for our celebration is a singing group from Ponyville, the Ponytones, here to probably start a new tradition as they will be singing a new song called, 'Auld Lang Syne,' Arranged by the rising star in both Classical and Pop music, Ludwig van Beethoven.

“Now before our first live performance, it’s time to count down to the new year in ten, nine, eight, seven, six-”

Everypony in the room counted down with the announcer on the radio, “Five, four, three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

There was a cheer in that room. While ponies toasted with their glasses and others kissed whoever was nearby for good luck, the radio started to play something new. A duet piano and violin played a short prelude in a form of a march before familiar voices started to sing proudly.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

“and never brought to mind?

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

“and auld lang syne?

“For auld lang syne, my dear,

“for auld lang syne,

“we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,

“for auld lang syne.”

“That’s mah brother!” Applejack cried, “He’s famous now!”

“We twa hae run about the braes,

“and pou'd the gowans fine;

“But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,

“sin' auld lang syne.

“For auld lang syne, my dear,

“for auld lang syne,

“we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,

“for auld lang syne.

“And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!

“and gie's a hand o' thine!

“And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught,

“for auld lang syne.

“For auld lang syne, my dear,

“for auld lang syne,

“we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,

“for auld lang syne.”

Twilight turned to Octavia, “What do you think?”

The Cellist raised an eyebrow, “It’s a catchy little tune, but I do have one question.”

“That being?”

She looked at the Princess in the eye and asked, “Were they speaking Equestrian?”

Chapter 42: Forgotten Folklore in G # minor.

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 43: Violin Audition in F # Major.

“Dodge City!” the Train Conductor announced to the car. “This stop is Dodge City.” The train had slowed to a halt, doors were opened to let ponies get on and off, while Braeburn stayed on. Underneath his seat, he had his suitcase, a letter from Beethoven himself, an old winter coat, and propped up next to him was his violin case.

Judging by the sun, it was still early in the day, and given the rate of stops, he’d expected to be in Canterlot by around three in the afternoon. Looking at his hooves again, he flipped through at the sheet music he’s expected to play with the Philharmonic in the next several weeks. He was still going through his mind over the notes at which hoof position to shift to in certain places.

“Uh, excuse me?” Braeburn looked up from the music to see who was talking to him. “Is this seat taken?” the Pegasus waved a hoof to the empty seat across from the cowpony.

“Nah son, Y'all can take it.”

“Thanks,” nodding, the deep purple Pegasus with a long, pulled back gray mane placed a violin case onto the seat before sitting next to in. Braeburn noticed that the pony’s cutie mark was a violin bow pulling across four lines.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for the yellow Apple to become slightly curious. “Ya expected to play somewhere stranger?”

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he responded, after adjusting his glasses. “I’m hoping to get a job up in Canterlot.”

“That’s funny, there’s where Ah’m headed off to.” The cowpony reached a hoof across to him, “Name’s Braeburn, by the way.”

“Call me Bow,” he shook his hoof, “Just simply Bow. I’m guessing you’re in the Orchestra?”

“Huh?”

“You have your instrument and sheet music too.”

“Oh,” Braeburn suddenly acknowledged what Bow was saying. “Nah, Ah really ain’t with the orchestra in Canterlot. But Ah’m needed there though with my fiddle playin’. Ah’m hired by Mr. Beethoven himself to go over ta play some of his stuff. Since the winter months are our slowest times in Appaloosa, Ah figured that this would give me somethin’ ta do.”

Bow’s eyes widen, “Beethoven? Thee Beethoven has sent for you!”

“Yep,” he nodded with pride. “Ah’ve sent a recordin’ of a song that he wrote, and turns out, he likes it so much that he wants me to take part in a stir-”

“String quartet,” the other Pegasus interrupted before the train started moving. “Yeah, I’ve heard about that Beethoven is hosting auditions for that. Though, I am hoping in finding a real job over there as well.”

“Huh,” Braeburn looked the other stallion over again, “Outta curiosity, how old are ya? Ah say that you look a couple years younger than me.”

“Seventeen,” Bow answered, “I’ll be turning eighteen in April. But I’m hoping I can get a good job at what I love, so I think this audition might get me with that. If I get a place in the Philharmonic at least, then I would hopefully have a steady enough job to move out.”

“So you play the violin too?”

“Uh-huh, since I was eight. I’ve played mostly the Classical stuff and improvise a little, and I’m really good at sight reading too.” The older teen stopped for a moment, “I know this is kinda off topic, but have you meet him?”

“Who?”

“Beethoven.”

“Yeah, twice really: the first was when he was in Appaloosa a couple months ago when he and that orchestra rehearsed his Fifth. The other was he was goin’ back to Ponyville.”

“What is he like?” Bow inquired, “Is it really true that he’s deaf?”

“Oh yeah,” Braeburn nodded, “the only way he could hear anythin’ is by machines or if he doesn’t have those ta haul around, he carries around a scroll so he can know what everypony’s sayin’.”

“And is it true that the Giant has a short fuse? I mean, that he gets offended easily?”

The cowpony shrugged, “Ah’ve only met him twice, so Ah wouldn’t know.” He looked out the window when a thought came to mind, “Say, if yer goin’ ta Canterlot, shouldn’t ya bring a coat with ya?”

Bow rolled his eyes, “Please, I’m a Pegasus, we don’t feel the cold.”

_*_

“C-Celestia’s m-mane it’s f-f-freezing!” Bow shivered. Hours later, he and Braeburn were in Canterlot that seemed to be iced over. Perhaps it was because of the altitude that the capital was at where on every street there were hills of show and streams of ice. The teenager heard a chuckle next to him from the well-prepared stallion in a brown coat.

“Well Ah did try ta tell ya,” Braeburn said. “But at any rate, that theater should be somewhere here.”

“I-I-I h-hope it’s h-heated,” Bow wanted to rustle his wings to get some blood flowing in them if it weren’t for the case on his back.

The cowpony looked at the letter again at the address, “We’re on the right street. But where… ah! There it is!” No sooner had the yellow Apple pointed at the theater did the Pegasus bolted down the street towards the place of warmth. The Earth Pony rolled his eyes and trotted up to the doors where it had a sign taped to the inside of the glass doors that read. “Quiet! Rehearsal in Progress.”

When they stepped inside, they heard music being played at a quick tempo of strings and horns doing musical acrobats. Braeburn found the teenager trying to warm himself, “You think that Mr. Beethoven is in here?”

Before he could answer, there was suddenly a pileup of chords at a crescendo like a train wreck before the Philharmonic died off one by one. And then, there was a growl before a voice thundered from the heart of the theater.

“WARUM HAST DU AUFGEHÖRT?! WAS IST FALSCH, MIT IHNEN PONYS !!”

“Oh boy,” Braeburn sighed. When Bow asked him what the matter was, he responded, “That’s Mr. Beethoven’s voice alright.”

“DIESE MUSIK IST NICHT, DASS SCHWIERIG!!”Beethoven continued to rant. “Ich kann nicht sehen, warum du nicht spielen kannst, was geschrieben steht!”

“Ludwig!” a mare’s voice rang out. The two stallions poked their heads into the theater. On stage, they not only saw the orchestra but the giant as well with a pair of headphones on. There were wires above that dangled microphones over the musician. A mare, they assumed was the conductor marched up to one of these microphones. “First of all, Equestrian, please? And second, would you give these guys a break? We’ve been practicing since nine this morning and chances are, we’re probably a little bit tired.”

“And in case you have forgotten,” Ludwig scolded in his enormous seat. “We have only two weeks to get through the Violin Romance, the Overture and this symphony! Well, we would have practiced the Romance if that cowpony hasn’t gone missing!”

“Or maybe he just got here,” somepony from the orchestra pointed out.

“What?” Beethoven asked. “Who said that?”

Sea Sharp looked over to the back of the theater and took notice of the stallions there. “Ah good, the violinist has arrived. You’re Braeburn Apple, right?”

The yellow cowpony walked in with Bow trailing behind, “Yes ma’am. Could ya tell Mr. Beethoven here that we jus’ got here by train not too long ago? Plus, Ah didn’t come here alone.”

But the conductor didn’t have to, the giant took notice of him, “Ah, took you long enough to get here. You have practiced that piece I’ve sent you I hope?”

“Yes’m,” Braeburn nodded. “Ah have been workin’ on the piece.” He trotted up to one of the microphones and spoke into it, “Mr. Beethoven, could Ah interest you inta given these fellas a break for a moment?”

“Why?”

“Well, rumor has it that yer lookin’ for some ponies that can play the strings, somethin’ about a quartet.”

“Yes actually. Apart from you, Octavia and Ms. Alto, I’m in need of a second violinist. So far, I haven’t heard one that has reached my qualifications.”

“That’s funny, Ah happen ta be travelin’ with a fella that’s lookin’ fer an audition of jus’ that.” He turned to the young Pegasus, “Why don’t ya come on up here and introduce yerself.”

Gulping, the teenager trotted on stage, swinging his violin case onto his hooves before approaching the microphone, “Uh… H-Hello, s-sir. It’s… Oh, forgive me; I’m just so star struck right now. It’s really such an honor to meet you, Mr. Beethoven.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “And you are?”

“Call me Bow, sir. I was hoping t-to audition for you, and this orchestra.”

Beethoven looked over to Sea Sharp, “Have everyone rest,” he stood up from his wooden seat. “Well then, Bow, how well trained are you in music?”

“I’ve been playing the violin for nine years now. I’m a fast learner and I can sight read pretty good. Oh, and I can improvise if I needed to.”

“Is that so?” Ludwig, with an electrical cord in his hand, walked over to the teenager like a general. “Then you must know that I demand the best musicians. Never mind the orchestra; I needed the finest just so much to be in my quartet. Do you understand that, Herr Bow?”

Gulping, the Pegasus nodded.

“If you really are serious in auditioning for me, then I shall judge you on three qualifications: passion; accuracy; and learning to quickly adapt to any given key, mood and tempo. Can you meet up my expectations?”

“I… I think so. Yes.”

Ludwig narrowed his eyes before turning to the orchestra, “Bring out the piano. Octavia, I need you to assist me.” Once the piano was pushed on stage, Octavia pulled out some sheet music she got on Hearths Warming. After Ludwig’s approval, he said, “Play the Prestissimo,” and sat down at the piano bench without any music to look at.

With a music stand set in front of him, Octavia flipped the score to the final movement. “Have you ever seen this music before?” she inquired.

Looking up as he opened his case, Bow answered, “I don’t recognize it. Although I do think I can play it.”

“Good luck,” the cellist said as she went to her instrument.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Ludwig warned.

Taking in a deep breath, the Pegasus lifted his bow, “I need this job, so let’s play.”

“I may be deaf, but I will be listening carefully with these,” Beethoven tapped on the side of his headphones. With a nod, Ludwig waved his hand. “Eins, zwei, drei!”

The trio began with on monstrous chords that seemed like the roar of a beast. Ludwig listened carefully between his playing and the young violinist. He tried to tune in to the violin sections to see what this Pegasus has to offer the composer at the point of a critical scalpel. Dissecting its sounds for any mistakes Bow would make.

From what he could hear, the teenager has flexibility and knows when to pronounce each note, when it should be loud or quiet in certain areas. Since the stormy music is already in his head, Ludwig had the liberty to look up to scrutinize the violinist. Bow’s eyes were on the music sheet, playing ever so close attention to the detail of where each note was going, even at the faster parts. The teenager’s ears were pointed upward, taking in from both the piano and cello to find a balance from the music that he’d never seen before.

At some parts, even with the surprising explosion of notes, it would seem to the giant that this teenager had played it before somehow. Not only can the violinist play each note just right at the right tempo, but Bow seems to know how to pronounce each phrase on the paper. Like a singer, this Pegasus was giving his all into the instrument as he was sweating from the anxiety of hoping he won’t get a single note wrong. He was moving his bow about so much, that it amazed Beethoven somewhat that his glasses were able to stay on at all.

The orchestra too listened intensely. This young stallion was very good at the instrument; even those in the violin section were impressed at his playing. As the movement went on, even the conductor had the same general thought that he should be allowed into the Philharmonic.

Even Braeburn was impressed; he had a hoof tapping to the beat at the really exciting parts.

Minutes later, when the trio ended their musical storm quietly, they were received with applause, much to Bow’s relief. “Well?” he spoke into the microphone, “was that good?”

Beethoven closed his eyes, meditated on the question. “You hit every note (as far as I can hear). There was a good deal of passion, and you were able to adapt to the sudden changes in this piece… I believe that I have finally found my second violinist in the quartet.”

Bow sighed in relief, “Oh thank you, sir! Does this also mean that I’m part of the Philharmonic too?”

“Let’s find out,” the Unicorn conductor turned to the orchestra, “All those in favor of letting this guy in say ‘Aye.’” Many did, “Those who are opposed say ‘Neigh,’” Few did. “By majority rule, you’re in kid.”

“Yes!” Bow flew up in the air in joy. “I finally have a real job! So when can I start?”

“How about now,” Beethoven grabbed a book of sheet music over to him. “We’ll need to rehearse the Romance piece now that the Appaloosian is here.”

With a smile, Braeburn took out his violin to tune it.

Chapter 44: The Baltimare Concert in B b minor (Part 1).

The ponies (and only human) on the train to Baltimare could see nothing but the rage of a blizzard. Gray clouds and gray trees zipped by as the white snow fell sideways from the windows of the speeding train. In the back of the train, the newly formed quartet was joined by the Princess of Friendship and her friends Rarity and Applejack.

“Are you all excited for the concert?” Twilight asked as she sat down next to them.

“It has been a really tough two weeks,” Bow said. “With all the practice, you would think that I’ve accidentally joined boot camp.”

“Oh that’s nothing,” Alto the violist laughed. “You should have been there when Mr. Beethoven was rehearsing his fifth symphony!”

“Tell me about it,” Octavia moaned, “Still, at least we’ve gotten through everything easily enough.”

“Ah mahself am a bit nervous bein’ on stage,” Braeburn confessed.

Applejack chuckled, “Don’t tell me ya have come down with the case of stage fright?”

“Well… not terribly. But jus’ a little, Ah’ve never played in front of such a huge crowd before.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, “Why? Your performance has gotten better each time we’ve rehearsed.”

“That’s because Ah gotta know y’all over the past two weeks. Now, however, Ah gotta play in front of folks that Ah don’t even know.”

“You’ll be fine,” Alto waved a hoof. “Mr. Beethoven himself said that if he didn’t think you couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Sure. But the real challenge is gonna be comin’ after this here concert.” Braeburn pointed out.

“What do you mean darling?” Rarity asked.

“Well,” he took out underneath his seat some of the printed music scores, “now this right here, the Giant wants us to know how to play in a month from now. Now, some of these here, any of us can play no problem in a week or two. However, there is one that none of us are lookin’ forward to.”

“That being?” Twilight inquired.

“The Fugue,” the entire quartet said as one.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Applejack asked.

“What’s wrong with it?” Octavia grabbed the larger paper book from Braeburn. “What’s right with it is the better question! I mean, where do I begin?”

“Where do we end?” Alto chimed in, “In all the years I have been playing, I have never seen anything like this before.”

“This fugue at the end,” Bow added, “Is brand new from Beethoven himself, only… I think he’s starting to really lose it.”

“We’ve tried ta running it through the other night,” Braeburn explained. “Ah can’t really decide if it’s brilliant above mah level or jus’ plain bad. It’s almost borderline ugly, and really difficult ta play.”

“Really?” Twilight questioned, “But we’ve heard Mr. Beethoven’s pieces, most of which are beautiful in spite of his deafness.”

“Why the works we’ve been hearing are simply sublime,” Rarity added.

“Even downright impressive that for a deaf guy, he’s able to change how we listen to music,” Applejack concluded.

“I beg to differ on the fugue,” Octavia deadpanned. “Don’t get me wrong, with the other pieces; I think he’s closing the door on Classical music as we know it with these string quartets. Yet, with the fugue… we’ll face the music when the time calls for it.”

“Well if we’re moving on,” Rarity said, “I do have a question for you Braeburn Apple,” he asked what it was. “Since you’ll be playing first a Romance for Violin and Orchestra, do you have a picture in your head as you’ll be playing this, or do you just follow the notes?”

The cowpony raised an eyebrow, “Ah don’t know what yer implyin’.”

“I think what she’s asking,” Twilight interpreted, “is when you’re playing the Romance, does your mind have a mental picture in order to fit with the tone of the music?”

“Oh…” Braeburn blushed, “In a matter of speakin’. But Y'all don’t wanna hear about it.”

“You had yer eye on somepony?” Applejack grinned, “Why cousin, why didn’t ya tell us sooner?”

“It was jus’ a crush way back,” the yellow Apple folded his forelegs, “Y’all don’t wanna hear the details.”

“Why not? You’ve gotten all of us curious now, and this is somethin’ new commin’ from ya. Ah mean seriously, why do ya have ta be all hush hush about it?”

“ ‘cause it ain’t yer business who Ah happened ta like. But that ain’t important, what is that Ah still remember how Ah felt back then when Ah get on that stage.”

“Hey guys,” Bow interrupted, “We’re here.”

The ponies in the car looked out the windows to finally see the city they were coming into. In the backdrop of falling snow and gray clouds, the first things they’ve noticed were the newly built factories. Towering structures just outside of the tiny city itself, built from brick, glass, and iron, the enormous smokestacks poured out the excess yellow steam high up in the air. There were five or six of these as the train rolled on the icy tracks towards the sea, where the real town was. As they looked out of their windows, ponies in either uniform or in their old winter coats talked to and fro, not taking notice of the train.

As the train started to slow down, they’ve noticed that the small city’s building got less grim as they entered further in until they stopped at the station. The Philharmonic grabbed their instruments and stepped out into the cold, taking in of the impressive marble stonework and glass skyscrapers, though few there were. As they unloaded unto the platform, they also noticed that unlike the factory district, the ponies waiting there had much finer, and thicker coats, much better suited for the weather.

“I wonder if London is like this,” Twilight turned to see it was Beethoven that spoke. “I’ve read somewhere long ago that it was like this, half elegant and half grim, with all the factories popping up.”

The alicorn took out the magic scroll from his pocket, “I’m not sure what you mean, is London a city?”

“The capital of the Kingdom of Great Britain said to be one of the largest cities next to Paris in my world,” He blew into his hands for warmth. “Now then, where is that theater?”

“I know where it is,” Twilight pulled out a map. “It’s actually a five-minute walk from here.”

Applejack looked over to the map, “By the looks of it, Ah think it’s down that way.”

“The sooner we get out the cold, the better,” Ludwig started walking towards the street. But he paused for a moment; he thought he saw something else move from the corner of his eye. Something quick, but when he looked over, he saw nothing.

_*_

Hours later, there was a line leading up to the Horseshoe Bay Theater. A simple building of two floors, the white façade of marble with its columns made it almost look like an ancient temple from the Pegasi. There were posters all around and some ponies were giving out playbills of what was playing that night. Needless to say, before the ponies could get into the theater, there was talk of intrigue of the three new Beethoven pieces they’ll be able to hear: the Violin Romance No. 1; the Egmont Overture; and the Symphony No. 7. A hodgepodge of the Baltimare citizens from rich to poor was buying up tickets until they were sold out.

Once inside, ponies found their seating in the old theater of red velvet, golden painted seats, and a tin roof. Before them, a massive scarlet curtain stood, waiting for the right time to open. As seven o’clock drew near, Princess Twilight and her friends Applejack and Rarity took their seats at the very front of the only balcony. Ludwig took his seat in a specially constructed chair where a pair of headphones was waiting for him.

Seeing that they were on, Ludwig put them on over his head, in which he can somewhat hear what was going on behind the curtain.

“Okay,” Sea Sharp the conductor said. “The mics are on, everypony has their instruments out. Mr. Apple, do you have your violin out? Good. Is everypony else ready? Got your music with you? Good. Okay, let’s raise the curtain.”

The scarlet veil parted wide to reveal rows of empty chairs before the Philharmonic made their way to their seating. As soon as they sat down, one by one, they tuned their instruments until every last one of them was ready. Then the conductor came out on stage to the sound of applause from the audience. With a smile, she bowed to them before giving her short speech.

“Mares and gentlecolts, young and old, on behalf of the Canterlot Philharmonic, we welcome you to tonight’s program. Now before we go ahead and start, I want to make some quick announcements. In the audience tonight, we have Princess Twilight Sparkle here with us in her first ever appearance in Baltimare.”

As the theater applauded, Rarity urged her to stand up and wave over to them. She did so before sitting back down again.

“And also, here in this theater is the Giant of Ponyville himself, the very composer whose music we are all here to play, tonight we have Ludwig van Beethoven.” The audience applauded louder than before, but the old man sat still in his seat, his hands pressed against the headphones. “Now, the order of pieces we’ll be playing will be done in two acts. The first we’re gonna play a Romance for solo violin and orchestra, then onto an overture. We’ll then take a short intermission before we play the new symphony. So here playing as our soloist, all the way from Appaloosa for his first, serious public performance is Braeburn Apple. Please give him a warm welcome for tonight’s program.”

The audience applauded again as the stallion, who was now in a suit and tie, but still wearing his hat, walked nervously on stage towards the microphone next to the conductor’s stand with an equally nervous smile. Before Braeburn put the violin under his chin, the conductor went over and the two of them whispered for a minute.

From the balcony, Applejack muttered, “C’mon cousin, you can do it.”

On stage, the yellow Apple nodded before taking his place in front of the microphone. The conductor cued the rest of the orchestra to ready themselves, but now, everypony was waiting on Braeburn. He had his eyes closed shut, and his shaky bow at the ready, he waited until everything was quiet.

He took in several, calming deep breaths, trying his best to clear the fact that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of ponies staring at him, waiting for him to do something. The cowpony was trying to remember the life several years ago before he moved to settle Appaloosa, in particular, of the pony that he parted ways with. With one last breath through his nostrils, he began to play.

Over the strings, the sound was warm, familiar, like the one he knew as a teen. He remembered the way his feelings had developed slowly, how it came to become a haunting thought. The smiling, rapid heartbeat, the sense of being so safe, how he could let his guard down, and how thinking about his friend had comforted him, even when nopony was listening to him. As the orchestra added to the melody, it made his memory all the richer, deeper, even vivid of the times he had gotten to know the pony he had called his best friend.

So many rich memories mixed with the double step melody, the sense of humor they would trade back and forth, how they would hate school and love life in any given season. At the same time as Braeburn played, he wondered if things could have been different. What would have happened if he had been a little more honest with his best friend? Sure, they parted ways long before he moved to the desert oasis of Appaloosa, but part of him still wishes that… ‘Oh come now,’ he thought to himself. ‘Ya left on a good note. Besides, you know how much life is better now. Besides, life in the Wonderbolts is a whole lot better than… Yes! It is better, and it’s not like yer own best friend has forgotten all about ya. You still get those letters after all now and then. You still keep in touch but…’

He didn’t want to think about it, not while he’s performing.

Up in the balcony, Applejack listens on with curiosity, even when it’s clear that her cousin was sweating underneath all those lights, he was able to play beautifully with the orchestra. But considering what she heard on the train ride here, she can’t help but wonder, ‘Who is he rememberin’? And why hasn’t he told anypony about it? It’s like he’s tryin’ ta hide somethin’. But even if that’s true… what is he tryin’ ta hide?’

For the composer who was listening, however, his mind was filled with something completely different. From the vibrations of the headphones, the romantic violin now sounds melancholy to him. Instead of a serenade that everyone always mistook from the title, all he picked up was a requiem. After spending half a year away from the place he calls home, Beethoven couldn’t help but think back to the time he wrote that piece. It was written in the same year that he thought of suicide when his hearing was going and was before he was rejected by another countess. To him, this was the song of a lost opportunity, of what might have been… what could have been?

Unbeknownst to him, or to anyone in that darkened theater, behind Ludwig, he had two shadows. One was reflecting his posture as he listened to the performance, while the other, had the silhouette of a hand over his shoulder.

Chapter 45: The Baltimare Concert in B b minor (Part 2).

When Braeburn and the rest of the orchestra finished the last note, the theater erupted into applause. But even with the stomping of hooves, even the cowpony heard a mare’s voice in the balcony yelling, “Way ta go Brae!” For the violinist, he merely chuckled before he bowed low, relieved. He has done it, though he was sweating as he gone through an Iron Pony Competition, he managed to do pretty well what few ponies have done. The yellow Apple looked up to see what the composer’s reaction was, he was clapping.

“See,” he heard the conductor say as she shook his hoof, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“At least Ah didn’t mess up,” he smiled. “Good luck with the rest of the concert.” Braeburn then left to take a rest backstage.

When the applause died out, the orchestra flipped over to the overture. Octavia glanced over behind her through behind the curtains where Vinyl was adjusting some dials. ‘So far so good,’ she thought. Returning her attention to the conductor, she raised her baton to which she along with her fellow members readied themselves. The sound they produced was an odd one.

At the beginning, where the strings, horns and the entire wind section held out a whole note, the strings opened the Overture with a rather dark, noble but a serious melody. The clarinets and bassoons paint a backdrop of serenity to this nocturnal like music, but this didn’t last as the strings walked back into repeating the opening theme as before. After that, the strings balanced this night music with a balance of tranquility and uneasiness, as if something dreadful was bound to happen.

In her seat, Octavia paid attention to the notes on the page and the rhythm of the Philharmonic. In her mind’s eye, this strange beginning was the equivalent of a prison. It was restrictive, confining in the cold minor key. Rhythms that was so limited that it was as if the music was suffocating. The Cellist looked out into the audience, their eyes and ears were paying close attention to them. As she wondered for a moment of what all of them were thinking, came the real fire of the piece at its first crescendo.

The ponies that sat there, they heard struggle among the beauty. Noble actions with dark intentions, the music of the violins spoke whispers of storm brewing among the calming wind instruments. For some, it was almost like listening to an imitation of a hurricane in Horseshoe Bay as violas and cellos thundered.

In the very back, Ludwig was counting out time from what he could pick up. In his seat, he was getting restless as every so often at the really exciting parts, he would wave his hand around, even his fingers would move as if he were playing every instrument at once. At the louder moments, he was humming along with the strings.

Up in the balcony, Rarity whispered, “It really does sound like the soundtrack to an epic film, doesn’t it?”

“Ah’ll sa-” Applejack began but she was quickly shushed. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Ah’ll say, can ya imagine it like a ship out at sea that’s caught in a storm? With all them sailors goin’ about ta haul down everthin’ while the winds blow about?”

“And with the captain giving orders to everypony,” Twilight nodded. “Yes, I can see that.”

Near the very end, the Overture’s waves of the strings and horns turned onto a different course as if suddenly they found a way out of the hurricane. Strings, horns, and winds tossed and turned as they unfolded the sails towards their destination towards their sunny exit. On stage, Octavia ended the piece on a rather abrupt but hopeful note. There were cheers from the audience this time with the avalanche of stomping hooves.

The conductor turned around, “We will resume after a short intermission,” and with that, the curtain was drawn. “Alright everypony, fifteen minutes before we get onto the symphony.”

Octavia slumped in her seat, her forelegs felt as if they could just fall off. “Good Celestia that was brutal.” She heard the clopping of hooves as the orchestra moved about, setting their instruments aside to take a break into the backstage that has water bottles. But the gray mare didn’t feel like moving at that point.

It was then that her roommate came up to her with a cold bottle of water in her magic. She offered it to her, “Thanks Vinyl,” Octavia took hold of it to take a drink from it. “I hope you're not boarded by our playing.”

Vinyl smirked and shook her head.

“Judging from the look on your face, I would say that you might have a few new ideas coming out of this concert.”

The DJ unicorn shrugged.

“You know, since we have a moment to breathe,” Octavia set the bottle on a nearby chair. “I think I do owe you from dragging you around to these concerts, not to mention having to put with Mr. Beethoven’s behavior. Something fun when we’re not doing work,” Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “You know, after this quartet shows off Ludwig’s newest pieces in Canterlot next month, how about after that, we go on a trip to Los Pegasus and just have some fun for a week?”

Vinyl frantically nodded her head with a smile before she hugged her. Her roommate hugged back, “You’re quite welcome.”

_*_

Braeburn had already put away his violin backstage. He looked out between the curtains as the Philharmonic were tuning up to play the seventh symphony. Knocking a water bottle back, he was suddenly blindfolded by a pair of wings.

“Guess who,” the cowpony heard two voices behind him say. Breaking from the wings, he swung around and was surprised at who was there.

“Soar! Spitz!” the yellow Apple embraced both of them, “Hey you two! Long time no see! What are y’all doin’ in Baltimare?”

“We’re here for you,” the yellow Pegasus, Spitfire told him. “We’ve read the news that you’ll be playing for the first time.”

“And playing for Beethoven,” the sky blue Pegasus, Soarin grinned. “How can we pass up on something like this? How you’ve been brony? Neither of us has seen ya in a while.”

“Jus’ keepin’ mahself busy,” Braeburn said. “Makin’ a livin’ in Appaloosa, maintainin’ relationships between us settlers and the Buffalo tribe, harvestin’ apples, practicin’ hoofball, rodeo, fiddlin’ around on the fiddle, jus’ givin’ mahself somethin’ ta do.”

“Sheesh, and here I thought we were busy,” Spitfire replied.

Soarin laughed, “Yeah, but as for us, we’re just doing the same old stuff. Screaming at recruits, training, performing, paperwork, traveling around the country, you know those kinds of things. But anyway, let’s get down to what we’ve really come back here for.”

There was applause as the curtain on stage was parted to which Sea Sharp came walking on stage. “Oh shoot,” Braeburn looked over, “Do Y'all wanna go back to yer seats or…?”

The pegasi mare shook her head, “Not yet, we haven’t gotten to let ya know a couple things. So how about we go ahead and address the hydra in the room,” on stage, the orchestra began to play Ludwig’s symphony. But Spitfire went on. “First of all, that was some really good playing back there.”

“How did you get a violin to make it sound like that?” Soarin stepped in.

Braeburn laughed embarrassingly, “Oh ya know… years of practice.”

“You know bud,” the blue stallion playfully swats the cowpony on the back with his wing. “With that kind of playing, I’m rather surprised that you’re still single.”

“Tell me about it,” the Wonderbolt captain chuckled. “Maybe after tonight, you’ll be practically swimming with fanmares.”

“Eh… sure…” Braeburn looked away. “Still, do ya think that what Ah played was good?”

“It was great,” Soarin said. “Whoever knew that you can play like that from all the time we’ve known you?”

“Maybe you should play your violin a little more often,” Spitfire nodded. “What we’ve heard back there, you’ve got real talent here.”

“Uh shucks,” Braeburn blushed, “it’s only a hobby.”

“You really should keep it up,” Soarin added.

“So what’s the other thing ya tell me?”

“Oh!” both Spitfire and Soarin looked at each other. “Well,” the yellow mare said, “Since you’re here, we’ve figured that we have an announcement to make that we want you to hear first before anypony does.”

The yellow Apple tilted his head, “What do ya mean?”

Both Wonderblots looked at one another with a smile, “Well,” Soarin started. “You know that me and Spitz knew each other for a couple of years.”

“And that we’ve been working together,” the mare continued, “that eventually, we’ve started dating for a while.”

Braeburn could feel his heart drop to his stomach, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Soarin nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve been going out whenever we could. Just little things, you know like coffee, flights, going to concerts.”

“You might say,” Spitfire blushed, “That one thing leads after another and…”

“Eventually we’ve decided to take a huge step…” Soarin trailed off.

“We’re engaged,” both pegasi said in unison.

For a solid minute, while the orchestra played on as youthful winds and energetic strings played on. The music swelling up and making even more complex sounds, for Braeburn, it was as if time was suddenly frozen. He could do nothing but look on at their happy faces after they said them. All that the cowpony could think of was only one sentence: ‘I’m too late.’

“Uh, you okay?” Spitfire asked.

The Violinist put on a lying smile, “Yeah, yeah. But congrats you two! When are ya planin’ on gettin’ hitched?”

“We were thinking,” Soarin told him, “that maybe not this spring but the next that we’ll go through it. Just with all the things we have to do, we have to push the big day back somewhat.”

“Ah see… Ah see…” the cowpony said softly, “If yer both happy about this.”

Spitfire chuckled, “Oh we are. As we said, we just wanted to stop by to tell ya that you did great and that we’re planning on getting married soon.”

“Until then,” Soarin patted him on the back with his wing, “maybe when spring break comes rolling in, maybe we should play a couple rounds of hoofball.”

“Yeah…” Braeburn nodded, “sounds good.”

“Great, we’ll head back to our seats then,” Soarin told him as he and Spitfire started to make their way out. “Later brony.”

“Wait!” Braeburn objected. When the two ponies looked back at him, he hesitated. With his mind going blank of what he wanted to say, his mouth automatically said, “Ah hope Y'all enjoy the rest of the show.”

“No problem,” Spitfire waved back at him as she and her fellow Wonderbolt exited out.

For the rest of the first movement, Braeburn felt numb. He felt empty. Even when the music swoon and sway to a youthful, warm summer’s sound, where clarinets and violins bounced in happiness, the stallion only felt a wintry cold shock. The very pony he was unknowingly playing for, has told him the very thing he feared.

Leaning his back against the wall, he sat there, his ears folded back but he could still hear the music of Beethoven’s music.

When the Philharmonic finished with the first movement, much to the delight of the audience, there was a moment of silence before they moved onto the second movement. It began with the opening of the winds and horns before the double basses, cellos and violas began marching out their rhythm. It started out as quiet, grim, but steady as it moved forward.

Then the violins added onto the layer, from the simple rhythm, a counterpoint began that Braeburn was now really listening, because it somehow sympathized with him. The stallion held himself, his head sunk low; he felt the first of many tears to silently drip down.

The music started to build up bit by bit, violins gaining strength in this odd sort of a march. While the opening theme never went away, the building crescendo as more instruments joined gave a sense of hope from this slow, mechanical beat. When the horns came, it was as if hope and despair were now interlocked with one another.

Out in the audience, this contradiction made the folks of Baltimare reflect on their city. The industrial, steam driven, compressed beat and the lyrical, richly dressed melody were woven together to form a kind of unified harmony. In their seats, factory workers and well-to-dos were hearing a kind of reflection of their own city in this music.

For Ludwig, as he tries to listen on, his muse was whispering through his headphones. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out his composition book as he flipped over to the unfinished first movement. The remaining fugue that has been scratched out several dozen times still remains unconquered. From what he was picking up, Beethoven was playing in a new theme that he was inspired by what he was hearing. Of course, he didn’t want to do the exact same theme from the Seventh, but his mind was rearranging, stretching and squishing notes until he could focus on something he can work on.

Taking off his headphones, the giant was left into his own world as the audience applauded, calling for the music to be played again.

_*_

Later that night on the train home, Ludwig carefully went from car to car until he got to the caboose where the quartet was in. The four ponies looked up at him as he entered, “From what I can gather,” He said, “that was a good performance. Herr Apple, you’re playing was an excellent effort.”

Braeburn didn’t say anything.

“Herr Apple?” Beethoven took out the magic scroll, “Did you not hear me? I said your performance was very good.”

“Ah guess so,” he said softly.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “What is wrong with him?”

Octavia shrugged, “He wouldn’t tell us.”

“He just suddenly got depressed,” Alto stated.

“We don’t have a clue what’s going on,” Bow concluded. “So did you come all this way to congratulate us?”

“Not entirely,” Ludwig informed, “Rather, I came by to give all of you the proper frame of thought for that fugue the four of you are having trouble about.”

“Oh?” Octavia raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I want all of you to be frank with me, what do you all really think about the great fugue at the end?”

The four of them looked at one another, “Terrible,” the cellist said.

“Difficult,” said the second violinist.

“Confusing,” said the violist.

“Ugly,” said the first violinist.

Crouching down, Ludwig had Braeburn look at him in the eye, “Ugly you say? Do you think the fugue is ugly?” the yellow cowpony nodded gingerly. “Well, of course, it’s ugly, but is it beautiful?” All four gave him puzzled looks, “I can tell you don’t understand. You see, this fugue is not meant to be understood, but experienced. From it, I am putting the ugliness of thought, feeling, and memory onto a pedestal because I’m perusing a new form of music. I am opening art to the ugly.” He pointed at Braeburn; “You say that you are depressed?” he nodded. “Good, you might need it as a tool of inspiration.”

Chapter 46: The Great “Riot” Fugue in F minor.

Inside Beethoven’s mind, orchestras of powdered wigged angels were playing out a heavenly fugue. Walking over the snow, the giant jotted down the notes of the baroque style fugue for the strings and the counterpoint he relearned from the pony form of Bach. Like a god, he extended or shortened the notes of the main theme, played it forwards, backward, upside-down and sideways. On that cold morning through the park, he was getting close to finishing the First Movement of his symphony and he knew it. Singing, scratching, humming and jotting, the fugue was soaring in his imagination, in which would make the very composer of those organ pieces he played as a teen proud.

Then he attacked the wind section, juggling counterpoints, reversing the second theme in the oboe section, letting the clarinets tumble down the scale before they repeat the earlier theme. Though bitter winds may blow about and around him, slapping loose snowflakes in his face, Beethoven’s creativity was in overdrive.

Flipping over to the next page, Ludwig rushed over to the finishing line. Stabbing in trills and opening up crescendos to the final, closing chord. Then Beethoven stopped, the First Movement was complete! Three out of the four movements were finally finished! But just to make sure, Ludwig flipped over to the very beginning to see what could be expanded or cut out.

“I’m rather glad to see this is coming along nicely.”

Out of shock when he saw the words on the manuscript, he dropped the book. There on the ground stretched within his shadow in the sunlight was the creature that was looking back at him with those piercing white eyes.

“What do you want now?” Ludwig scolded as he picked up his composition book. “I’m very busy as it is.”

The shadow tilted his head to the side and stretched out a hand into the snow, and with his fingers, spelled out words in the ice.

“In truth? I know that you just completed your First Movement at last. And sooner then I or my Employer thought. I won’t be here for long, just show me the manuscript and I’ll leave you alone for a while.”

“Right now? The last time we’ve met you’ve encased me in darkness, and now you appear as my shadow to ask to see my work?” Beethoven folded his arms. “What exactly are you, that you require the music of a deaf man? You’re a spirit of sorts are you not? Are there orchestras where you come from?”

“No one plays music where I am from.”

“Then for God’s sake, why do you want my symphony so badly!?” He threw his composition book at it, to which the shadow started flipping through the book.

“Believe it or not, it is just for my benefit, as well as yours.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. “The only benefit you’re offering me is to go back to Vienna, same time, same place, to rescue my Karl from killing himself. So what could you benefit from kidnapping me and forced to write something at this magnitude?”

“I’m not bound to tell you.”

“Why!”

“Because my Employer says so.”

“Why!” Ludwig stomped in the snow. “You have kept me in the dark for far too long! I demand to know!”

“But you’re not allowed.”

“Say’s who!”

“My Employer!”

“Cut the nonsense! It’s clear that you… Shadow People are doing this for a reason! That Princess Twilight has said that your kind has done this before. To get treasures from other people, but you’re a spirit! What in all of creation do you need treasures or my art for? Ghosts don’t need treasures, only the living can enjoy th-”

“SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH LUDWIG!!!”

Beethoven saw in the snow, the shading of the words had become gigantic as if the spirit was screaming at him. But the composer blinked, “Why did you call me by my first name spirit?” The words faded, and the turning of the pages on the ground ceased. “In all of this time, you only referred to me by my last name, yet, you just used my first?” No reply. It was then that Ludwig thought of a question that he hadn’t thought up before. “You knew me before, have you?”

“This conversation is over.” The shadow wrote to him. “For my sake, and yours, let’s not bring this up ever again. Don’t question it!”

“Too bad, you know me before all of this has begun! How else would you know where to find me in that apartment on the edge of Vienna?”

“Goodbye… Herr Beethoven.” The eyes on the shadow closed, and the form of Ludwig’s shadow morphed until he recognized it was his.

“Wait! Who are you?” he knelt on his knees and clawed at the ground, but it was already too late. The creature, whoever it was, was gone.

_*_

About a month of rehearsing later in the month of February, the Canterlot Philharmonic proceeded to have its annual charity concert; the money from the tickets would be contributed towards the orphanage in the capital. But that year, the event had to be extended for several days, because for that year, the theater had a full house because of the main attraction at the very end: a series of six, experimental movements for string quartet by Ludwig van Beethoven.

Among those in the crowded theater, the composer, Princess Twilight, Spike and Rarity sat in a private box while Ludwig was listening in with his pair of headphones.

On center stage, Braeburn, Bow, Alto, and Octavia played through the first five movements on their instruments in front of a microphone. Over the course of their performance, they’ve to swoon their audience from tears to joyful cheers between the movements they played. So far, their reaction was pretty good.

At the applause of the end of the fifth movement, the quartet flipped their pages and adjusted them to the final movement of the whole concert. For a moment, all four hesitated; they looked at one another, then over to the composer who only nodded at them. Taking in a deep breath, Octavia said, “No matter what happens, keep going.”

The rest of the quartet nodded and readied their instruments. It was up to Braeburn to take the lead as he raised his bow. After taking a deep breath, and making sure his hoof was on the right notes, the quartet began with him making those first quick “grace” notes.

What the audience heard, was something monstrous. Chords clashed against one another of something huge, harsh and cruel on their ears. Many ponies in the audience looked at one another in confusion for the first few bars. Was that opening a mistake? Then why haven’t they started over?

But for a moment, the quartet continued on with the mood suddenly changed to a somber, serious tone. The audience for a moment assumed that this was what they were really going to be hearing. Many of them leaned back in their seats as each instrument takes its turn of a smooth but cold melody.

The quartet then became soft, as the first violin tip-hoofed slowly towards something. But what could it be? Then suddenly, Braeburn’s violin shrieked as the notes became faster while the viola pulsed out the beat. Bow’s violin repeated the same ugly theme, and when Alto’s turn came into play, the whole quartet’s music became hideous. It was as if the whole music was in a freefall with no logic or reason.

“Boo!” Somepony from the audience cried out, many other tied to shush that pony until someone else objected.

“My ears!”

“Shut up!”

“Stop this!”

“Brilliant!”

“Garbage!”

“Bravo!”

“Cease this trash!”

“Keep playing!”

“Awful!”

“Quiet!”

Voices in the theater multiple, some booed or hissed, others applauded and cheered for the quartet to keep going while the rest tried to quiet everyone else down. Ludwig looked over in disbelief, even with his limited hearing; he could pick up from the microphone what was being said.

“Quiet down!”

“Tell them to quiet down!”

“Hey, I’m trying to listen!”

“I’m out!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“Take your hooves off of me!”

“Sit down!”

As the music continued to play on, ponies were either tried to get up or have them stay and listen. Through his headphones, Beethoven could hear some of them were whistling, imitating the sounds of animals, and he even saw some threw their playbills at the quartet.

Yet, even from all of this, the quartet continues on playing, focusing not on the audience but on the sheet music as the bows ricocheted over the strings. Notes flying this way and that in total chaos yet even with the intense shrill; the musicians tried their best to find a harmony with the disorganized counterpoint.

Ludwig turned to Twilight, “Can’t you do something?”

“I can try,” she said slowly for him to read her lips. Standing up and putting her forelegs over the balcony, she shouted over, “HEY! QUIET DOWN!”

“Princess Twilight!” someone in the audience yelled, “Stop this infernal music at once!”

“It’s terrible!” another said.

“WOULD YOU ALL PLEASE SETTLE DOWN?” but the audience wouldn’t listen as they and the music got louder. Twilight focused her magic, and tried to make sure that it didn’t affect the composer or the performers, “EVERYPONY FREEZE!” a burst of magic later and the theater freeze except for the quartet that continued to play the fugue. “Whether you like this music or not, could you at least be civil so the rest of us can listen?”

She holds them still for a moment before releasing them, as soon as she did, several ponies got up and walked right out of the theater. But after the theater went quiet for a minute, the riot started back up again.

“They need a psychiatrist!” a mare said to which there was laughter.

“Beethoven needs a psychiatrist!”

“Shut it!”

But still, the quartet continued to play on. Braeburn tried his best to shut out what the world was saying and focused on not only the music but the memory of what happened in Baltimare. His conflicting emotions of loss, anger and confusion beat upon the strings. In a way, he almost felt like crying, but it would seem that his violin was doing that for him. All that emotion that he was feeling in the past month poured out into his section of the fugue.

The teenager played his violin as well; his focus was more on the disrespect they were getting from the audience. He figured that in these intense bars where they were screaming at them, his instrument might as well scream right back. The Pegasus has come so far and he’s not going to be discouraged like this.

Alto was uncomfortable, sweating even. She had never seen anything like this where they played classical music, and yet the audience is telling them that it is horrible while she was playing. As much as she tries to keep focus, she wished that this fugue was shorter so she could get up and leave herself.

Octavia on the other hoof, from time to time looked over to Ludwig, feeling rather sorry for him. Months of playing wonderful, incredible music and suddenly they’ve come to playing something brand new from him that turns out to be terrible. Yet, as the old saying goes, the show must go on.

It has to go on.

_*_

About ten minutes later, the quartet ran towards the final bars. Braeburn played out the overall theme as the rest of the quartet came to a loud finale. When they were at last finished, the theater was quiet for a tense moment before they were rained on with both boos and applause. “That’s it,” Beethoven’s voice can be heard, “you did it!”

The curtain finally dropped, separating the audience from the quartet. What remained of the packed theater, some were shaking their heads in disgust while others with intrigue. Before Ludwig could get out of his seat, a folded note popped on the velvet railing. Twilight took the note to unfold it, she frowned.

“What?” Beethoven inquired, “What does that say?”

Twilight’s lips moved, but Ludwig didn’t understand so he snatched the note anyway. On it, there was only one sentence:

Good Celestia, you really are deaf.

While he felt a comforting hoof on his arm, the giant swat it away as he stormed out of the theater. Twilight sighed as she went backstage to where the quartet was. When she found them, she said to them, “That was a very brave thing that all of you did.”

“We were booed,” Alto pointed out. “Did you hear what they shouted at us?”

“Not to mention they threw things at us,” Octavia said, “Never in all of my years as a Cellist have I received such treatment.”

“And we have to do it all again on Monday night,” Bow shook his head.

“I am truly sorry for everypony’s behavior,” Twilight said. “What happened back there was inexcusable, even for Canterlot. I have no idea why they reacted like that.”

The yellow Apple sighed as he put his instrument away, “Ah don’t think Ah can do this anymore.”

The three musicians turned to look at him, “What do you mean?” Octavia asked.

“Ah want ta leave,” he told them, “Maybe, after next week, Ah wanna go back to Appaloosa. If ponies are gonna be like that fer the next concert… Ah don’t wanna play no more.”

“But you’re the best violinist here,” Bow objected. “What about that choir piece after Winter Wrap Up?”

“How about you can be mah understudy,” Braeburn put a hoof on the teenager’s shoulder. “After all, you have some pretty good fiddlin’ skills too. Perhaps ya can put them inta good use. But as fer me, Ah sorry, but Ah’m done.”

Chapter 47: Moving on in E b Major.

Riot at the Theater!

Beethoven’s Experimental Music Causes Uproar. Audience and Critics Opinions Split Down the Middle.

Canterlot, Equestria.

Last night, the Canterlot Philharmonic hosts its annual charity concert in which it ended with a string quartet (see above) plays Ludwig van Beethoven’s newest pieces for the first time. The quartet was carefully hoof chosen by the composer himself to exhibit his latest six movements in which he composed during his time in Equestria. Many audience and critics agree that the first five movements were extraordinary, a work of genius even at the masterful skills of the musicians.

That was until the last movement in which the quartet played a fugue that nopony could agree if it’s too avant-garde or just plain bad. Within the first minute of the fifteen-minute-long fugue, the audience was jeering loudly, declaring it a masterpiece or trying to quiet everyone else down.

“For me, I could barely hear a thing,” said Fancy Pants. “To be honest, with the entire ruckus that everyone was making, it’s amazing anyone could hear it at all, even with Princess Twilight’s attempt to calm everyone.”

“That right there,” said Caesar, a Canterlot socialite who agreed for a comment right after the performance. “Hast to be the worst piece of garbage that I’ve ever heard, and I thought that techno music was bad.”

“Yes, I agree,” stated Upper Crust. “If anypony has any doubt that the giant is at all deaf, this is not only proof of that, but all the reason to send the creature into a lunatic asylum!”

But not everypony agreed.

“From what I’ve heard tonight, was the most original, most marvelous thing of what music is capable of,” Said Strotvinsky, an upcoming composer from Applewood. “If the audience was quieter, I would say that this fugue is a breath of fresh air for art. Beethoven is a pioneer for modern music in Equestria!”

“It’s a curious piece at the end, in a good way.” A stallion named Paganeighni, a tourist commented. “If anything, especially for those violinists, all the movements, including the one at the end is truly an eye-opener of what those simple instruments are capable of. I believe that with what we’ve heard, music may never be the same again.”

The critics who went to the performance during the time of the riot were, like the audience, split as to Beethoven’s newest pieces. While both sides were appalled at the behavior on behalf of the audience, they are just equally divided on their thoughts of the music that caused the riot.

Pop music critic, Techno Beat wrote: “For a string quartet that was being played live, Beethoven has really known how to keep the thing going for a good fourteen to sixteen minutes. For a guy who grew up in a society that is two hundred years ago from ours, what I heard was incredible! The intensity of the fugue could easily rival the sickest beats of DJPON3. For the opening and closing parts, it really sounds just like rave music, something that for a giant who can’t hear, is in this critic’s opinion, surprisingly ahead of his own time!”

Other classical critics were not so forgiving. The music critic Counterpoint wrote: “Words cannot describe of what I have heard tonight. I’m still trying to process what just happened that even now at my desk I keep asking myself, ‘What was that?’ As much as I love Beethoven’s revolutionary symphonies and piano works, the fugue at the end of the program has to be the most grotesque, ugly, dizzying, confusing scratches ever put to paper. It’s absolutely mystifying to me that the Giant of Ponyville has given masterpiece after masterpiece, has given to the world something so amateurish and messy; I can only compare it to reading the mad writings on the walls of a madhouse. I really do hope that the composer hasn’t lost his touch, but tonight was something that justifies the riot it caused.”

Beethoven declined to comment on the riot as he left in a rage before he could be questioned by any reporter.

The Canterlot Philharmonic is proceeding to premiere the giant’s next work in which would be using a choir of voices for the first time. While it was originally planned that Braeburn Apple was going to take an important role in this work, he has declared that he planned on quitting and giving the role over to a young upcoming violinist, who goes by the name of Bow.

Beethoven crumpled up the newspaper and threw it across his studio apartment. What happened last night was a disaster. A catastrophe of how his equine audience reacted to the fugue that he painstakingly crafted. No doubt that his new reputation in Equestria has been tarnished by this one movement, that someone like Spengallop is probably dancing at the reviews that are in circulation at this point.

The door to his apartment opened up to which Octavia stepped through. “Ah, Fräulein Melody, what brings you here?” He reached over to the nightstand for the magic scroll. “Here to bring even more bad news?”

When Ludwig unrolled the scroll, she replied, “On the contrary, I came on behalf of the orchestra. It’s about the piece we’re doing in Vanhoover.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“Frist of all, we don’t have a choir or voices to fill for the singing parts yet.”

“Then get one.”

Octavia was taken aback at this, “Mr. Beethoven, the concert in Vanhoover is roughly a month away. Just how exactly is anyone going to organize a choir to rehearse within a month on such short notice? Who would do that sort of a-”

“What about Opera companies?” the giant interrupted. “Where I came from, performers were able to memorize an opera of mine in three weeks. If we act now, we should be able to get them to sing a Mass in no time.”

“Even so, that only brings up my second point. The lyrics are in a language that nopony understands, we have no clue what it says nor its meaning, or even how to pronounce it.”

With a free hand, Ludwig placed it on his forehead and sighed. “Then what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

“I was talking with Vinyl about that, and she suggested that since you’re the one who wrote the thing, chances are, you might know how to speak it and its meaning of it. Mr. Beethoven, with your permission, once we get a choir and singers organized; may we record your voice reading the text, and perhaps give a translation of it?”

Beethoven groaned, “How long will this take?”

“That depends on how long you want to do this. If you want, Vinyl can have this all recorded and ready to go before we go off to our holiday, in which we will be gone for a week. And before you object, don’t worry; I’ll make sure I set some time to rehearse my parts while I’m gone. Don’t worry, I’ll have Horseshoepin act as messenger colt to either come to you in person or write to you what’s going on with the orchestra.”

Ludwig looked out one of his windows to judge the light of the shadows, “Well, since it’s not quite a noon, I suppose I could read somewhat before I return to work. After all, even with our failures, we need to move onto what’s next. Tell me, do you have the score with you?”

“It’s at our home,” Octavia said. “Come to think of it, maybe I should invite Princess Twilight along, knowing her, I’m sure she would be interested in you speaking in an unknown language.”

“What? Latin?” Beethoven got up to put on his winter coat, “Oh no, I don’t speak Latin.”

The cellist blinked. “Hold on, you wrote a piece of music, in a language that you can’t speak?”

“What did you say?” Ludwig looked back at the scroll, “I didn’t see what you were saying.” The gray mare repeated her question to him before Ludwig set the scroll down on the only piano that has its legs. “I don’t. But I was taught these words and their meaning since I was a little boy. They’re all prayers you see, and we had to learn them whenever we go to our worship services. Latin is the original language that’s been used since its founding.”

“Okay…?” Octavia raised an eyebrow, “But you still know what the words say?”

“I do. I wrote it from the heart, and when you hear it, may it return to the heart.”

_*_

Days later, thanks to Princess Twilight pulling some strings to getting the Canterlot Opera company to assist in performing the choir piece, rehearsals began right away. The music is being provided for this newly formed choir had the pronunciation of the Latin text as well as the translation of it. Of course, there were ponies that were rather confused at some of the meaning and characters mentioned in the piece. Others shrugged and with the help of Sea Sharp, they sang with the orchestra.

Hours later into the rehearsal, after making notes and going over several bars, the Opera Company started to sing from their books the end of one of the sections called, The Credo.

“Et vitam ventúri sǽculi,” the choir tried to sing. For the first few minutes into that particular part, the group could sing it without a problem as the strings; winds and brass tried their best to follow along. Then suddenly, the music became faster, the singers found that the notes were flying faster than they were able to read. Voices became messy and ugly chords clashed with one another to the point where the choir forced themselves to stop.

“What’s wrong?” the conductor asked as she turned around to face them in their seats.

“We can’t sing this,” A blue unicorn mare with a pulled up yellow mane got up from her seat. She held up her copy of the score. “The tempo is way too fast and the ties between the notes require us to give more breath than anypony could possibly sing. Even as a professional Soprano-like me, this is extremely difficult.”

“I have to agree with Mrs. Pitch here,” a tan earth pony stallion too stood up. “Even for the Tenor parts, and all the time I’ve spent in the Opera, I’ve never seen anything as impossibly complex as this. I could hardly read this thing since there are so many markings.”

The rest of the company agreed.

“Everypony,” the unicorn conductor lifted her hoof. “Everypony, listen to me, this is only our first rehearsal. Yes, I know perfectly well that Mr. Beethoven’s music is difficult to work with. Believe me; this music is just as hard to deal with as the giant himself.” Here, she got some laughs in the theater. “I’ll tell you what, let’s just get through this score as much as we can, and when we come back, we’ll focus on this. We’ll take it slowly to understand how to perform this and increase the tempo after that. After all, the week before we head off to Vanhoover, the composer will come here to inspect his work beforehoof. Knowing him, he would want to make sure that it’s all up to standard.”

There were murmurings in the theater.

“Come on now,” the conductor faced her copy of the enormous score. “We have still much to get through before the day is out. Let’s try to pick up at bar four-hundred-and-thirty and we’ll go from there.”

_*_

Svengallop propped his hindlegs on his desk, a smirk on his face as he read the newspaper. “Beethoven’s record sales are finally going down,” he read off from the text. It’s been weeks since the famous incident in Canterlot, and by the looks of things, or as much as the manager hopes, his fortunes are finally changing. “All I need is for him to make another mistake and the Countess is set for life.”

There was a knock on the office door. Putting the paper and his legs down, he said, “Come in,” before the door opened. “Ah Countess, what brings you here?”

“Well, I just had an idea that I really want to talk to you about – something to do with what I might be singing in the near future.”

“Okay honey, I’m all ears.”

“I want, at least just this once, to sing for Beethoven.”

Her manager frowned, “Come again?”

“Well, rumor has it that after the Equestrian Games, Ludwig is going to practice his Ninth Symphony in which there will be voices, and I was hoping if I could somehow be a part of it.” The singer smiled, “I mean, think of it, besides the fact that I love his music, I think it would be good for us too to have a celebrity singer like me to play some role in Beethoven’s music.”

“Countess…” her manager sighed, “I don’t know. Considering what’s going on with that giant right now, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“The problem is that since the scandal in Canterlot when Beethoven show off his latest work, it caused such an uproar that his record sales are dropping.”

“Oh that’s terrible,” the Countess said sympathetically. “What’s he doing now?”

“From what I’ve read? He’s still writing his tenth while practicing for some other work. The…” he looked to his paper on the desk. “Apparently it’s some choir piece called the ‘Missa solemnis,’ whatever that is.” He looked back up at his client. “I personally wouldn’t advice cooperating with him if things go south for the giant. After all, he might become unpopular by the time the games roll around.”

The Earth Pony singer hummed in thought, “I see your point. But if things do turn out better for him, could you get him to have me audition so I could take part in his ninth.”

“I won’t make any promises on the outcome… but if that were to happen, I’ll try to get into contact with Mr. Beethoven.”

“Oh thank you Sevn,” she got up, walked around her desk to hug him, “You’re truly the best.”

“Thank you. Now if you please excuse me, I still have work to be taken care of.”

“Sure thing,” the countess started to leave his office. “Remember, we’re heading off to Manehatten in a couple of hours.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he replied as the door was closed. The manager smiled again as he picked up the newspaper, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the garbage can. “As if the tone-deaf giant can redeem himself.”

Chapter 48: Missa Solemnis (Part 1) in B b Major.

Winter was drawing to a close when the train from Canterlot to Vanhoover rolled along the tracks. Ludwig looked out from the windows of the car to see that every so miles, he would see ponies pushing snow, clouds being removed and even trying to wake up the animals that were asleep. As much as he tried to work further in finishing the tenth symphony, such a sight was peculiar to him. Looking over to the Cellist and DJ sitting across from him, he inquired, “Do you ponies have to move the seasons by yourselves and not let nature take its course?” before glancing at the unrolled magic scroll.

“It’s an Equestrian tradition,” Octavia explained. “Right before the beginning of a new season, we tend to play a part in making sure things run smoothly at certain parts of the year. For example, in Ponyville they have the running of the leaves to clear the leaves for winter. With Winter Wrap Up, certain ponies are usually assigned to clean up the snow and ice so that spring can begin the rules vary from town to town of course.”

“Where I come from,” Beethoven said. “We do not have this much control of the weather, nor the seasons that govern. Though I can give you ponies credit that you have a sense of balance. If the people of Vienna have such power, they would demand day to day that it shall be summer all year long except for Christmas in which snow would fall.”

“That’s quite understandable,” the Cellist nodded. “Since you’re here, and we should have enough time to set things up and to have one last rehearsal before the premiere tomorrow, I do want to ask you something since we’re where.”

“And that being?”

“I’ve noticed the schedule that in April, we’re going to be performing in the Crystal Empire, just right after the Equestrian Games too. So I was wondering if you know for certain what we’re going to be playing over there.”

Beethoven dug into his pockets, trying to find the particular scratch of paper, “April 29th? Ah, here it is. Since we have a choir at our disposal, I figured that they would become useful for the Choral Fantasy. Then after the Coriolan Overture, there would be a short rest before we introduce the world my Eighth Symphony.” Placing the paper back in his pocket, he added, “I figured that we would start rehearsing for the ninth right after that, and to give me a change of scenery to compose my Tenth.”

It was here that Vinyl tapped on Octavia’s shoulder and pointed at Beethoven. “Oh yes, I’ve nearly forgot. Vinyl has a question for you Ludwig that she promised me I would inquire you sometime.”

“What would that be, Fräulein?”

“About your Tenth, since it’s nearly a full year, how close are you to finishing?”

Beethoven opened up his composition book, “I have the beginning of the last movement written down. The other three movements are in a vault in Princess Twilight’s library for safekeeping. I’ve carefully chosen the right themes to work with, and I’m thinking of adding a piano to the symphony for the first time.”

“It’s rather a shame that Princess Twilight couldn’t come,” Octavia commented.

Ludwig looked up to his scroll before glancing at the gray Earth Pony, “Did you say something?” The cellist repeated her comment before the giant replied, “Yes, a shame indeed. Though I did read somewhere that the Moon Princess will be attending tomorrow, I know she liked my Third Symphony.”

_*_

The ponies of Vanhoover who came to the Orpheum Theater were tired. Those who bought the tickets and slumped into their seats had finished with Winter Wrap Up in their city. Breaking up the ice in the bay, removing snow from the street, guiding birds from the south to the warmer north, they were worn out. As ponies entered the grand old theater, the first thing they’ve noticed was the blank banner that hung over the stage, while some were confused, others just sat and waited in their seats.

The second thing they’ve noticed was that on the huge balcony in the very center, space was roped off while it displayed the banner of the Princess of the Night. Before the show began, a voice boomed, “Presenting her Royal Highness – The Riser of the Moon and the Stars, the Huntress of the Nightmares, Mistress of all things Fun, and Co-Ruler of Equestria: Princess Luna!”

Applause erupted as the midnight alicorn walked down the steps to her seat, waving to the occupants of the theater. Four Lunar Guards flanked her on either side with spears in their hooves before standing at attention to where the Princess sat.

Minutes later, from out of the side of the stage, a curtain parted to which the giant stepped out. Although he couldn’t hear it, the auditorium was full of murmuring and whispers as Ludwig marched to the very back where his seat was set up. In one pocket, he clenched a rosary, while he used his free hand to put the headphones over his cheekbones.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight came on stage to which a very old looking Earth Pony stallion with a beard came on stage. “Good evening everypony, and Your Majesty,” he nodded towards Luna. “Before we begin, I want to take this moment to tell you our program for tonight at the Orpheum. What you are about to hear is something rather unique, for the next eighty minutes, we’re going to hear a choir sing a series of prayers. It will be sung in the original language called Latin; the lyrics of which will be translated on the banner above me into Equestrian for all to follow. So sit back and listen to the masterful performance by the Canterlot Philharmonic and the Canterlot Opera Company of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis.”

Ponies stomped their hooves as the curtain rose to reveal the orchestra and choir on stage. Sea Sharp came on stage with a grin as she went up to center stage, bowed, and stepped onto the conductor’s stand, taking the baton in her aura.

A hush came over the tired audience as the orchestra present themselves ready to begin. The first thing they’ve heard was an opening of strings, horns, winds, and timpani, playing with grandeur, purpose, and reverence for something gigantic. For the first couple of bars, a humble but noble theme rose in that darken theater like clouds of a storm.

Just then, the choir and the quartet of singers stood up, and upon cue, voices brought light to the dim theater. The singers, between the bursts of sound, took turns to humble the others while overhead, the banner begun to translate.

Kyrie eleison.
(Lord, have mercy.)

For several minutes, both choir and singers sang those two words, ranging from timid to rejuvenating while the orchestra binds them all together as a kind of order. The quartet of singers from Soprano to Baritone engaged in a harmonic conversation although they spoke those two words. Painting for everypony to listen to a world with its own mythology and mysticism like a forgotten legend. Strings from violins to double basses cast a spell with its melody and counterpoint while the winds and horns illuminated the stage like the lights overhead.

The words on the banner changed as the singers took the lead:

Christe eleison.
(Christ, have mercy.)

Although nopony had any idea who or what this Christ was, the singer's enter locks with their voices and their harmonies danced with the orchestra while the choir from time to time answers them. Notes climbed upward and tumble down like clouds in a wind, airy but full of substance that the listeners, not even Luna could explain. For some, their imaginations went towards the flight of the Pegasi, looking down at Equestria from the skies. What no one could deny was the vast majesty of sound that they were being treated with, even when it was sung in a completely different language.

In the back of the theater, as the microphone was picking up the vibrations of the orchestra and choir, Beethoven clenched onto his rosary from his pocket. “Er ist auferstanden,” he whispered as he worshiped the music.

_*_

After the applauding died down, Sea Sharp, along with everypony on stage turned their pages to the next section. The blue unicorn raised her baton, and a loud, ecstatic rush of drums and horns stampede forward.

Glória in excélsis Deo,
(Glory to God in the Highest,)

From the choir, voices raise above like fireworks with explosions of percussion, strings, and horns. Winds cascade outward from the sheer power of the strong beginning. Yet, curiously, just as it opened with an enthusiastic beginning, the violins and violas pulled it back to calm.

et in terra pax homínibus bonæ voluntátis.
(and on earth peace to people of good will.)

Pastoral and light became this sound word, like flying over the clouds at dawn over untamed mountains. Yet this moment of peace didn’t last long as the wind from the choir unexpectedly tossed and twirled like a lost kite over a beach. Climbing high one second and strong to low and gentle the next, many ponies decided to let go of trying to predict where it will take them next and just let their imaginary sails get caught in the wind.

Laudámus te,
(We praise you,)

benedícimus te,
(we bless you,)

adorámus te,
(we adore you,)

glorificámus te,
(we glorify you,)

With soft wind instruments now at the helm, the quartet of singers stood up. A song of thanksgiving drifted from their mouths into a bright sea of caressing violins, flutes, and clarinets.

grátias ágimus tibi propter magnam glóriam tuam,
(we give you thanks for your great glory,)

Up in the front row of the balcony, Luna leaned towards one of her guards and whispered, “Whatever god they’re singing about, it would seem that Mr. Beethoven is rather zealous in his music.”

“I’m not exactly sure what is going on,” the guard whispered back, “It’s like listening to an opera that they’ve forgotten the actors, costumes, sets or plot to sing it in.”

The choir joined in, gently at first as the repeated the music of gratitude, swelling up until it became like huge waves over the audience.

Dómine Deus, Rex cæléstis,
(Lord God, heavenly King,)

Deus Pater omnípotens.
(O God, almighty Father.)

But even then, the strings drew the enormous passion back before the quartet continued while the bows from the strings rippled gently as before.

Dómine Fili unigénite, Jesu Christe
(Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son,)

Once again, the choir returns for one last moment in its last rush to the shore.

Dómine Deus, Agnus Dei, Fílius Patris,
(Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father,)

As they slowed down at the calming shoreline, the winds and brass let out a sound eerily similar to the pipes of an old organ before moving on. The quartet continued to play their voices, singing praises to a god they do not understand it, nor know about. But for Beethoven, his imagination returned to the grand cathedrals of his faith. Especially for the Easter, he remembered the Latin choirs, the burning of incense, the old story of death and resurrection, the hope of immortality, and the sacred communion at the end.

That was another thing he missed after his hearing had failed him, no longer was he able to hear the Gloria’s and Requiems became mute to him. He knew the reason why he wrote this a few years ago because to Ludwig, this was the only way he could worship, through music, in loving memory of the sacred words that were sung in those masses he used to listen to – by writing in the very language of God.

As the singers and choir went back and forth, the giant waited for the end of the Gloria for the fugue in the end. If this was a time to redeem himself and his music, this would be it.

in glória Dei Patris. Amen.
(in the glory of God the Father. Amen.)

The fugue swirled around the theater, transfixing the ponies at the heavenly music as the choir sang their hearts out. Almost like a ghost of Buch possessed them to sing something as complex as theme and counterpoint worked together to gravitate, generate something enormous that it could barely fit inside the auditorium. Notes drive themselves further into the beautiful unknown.

At the final, pounding, powerful chords there was a moment of silence before the ponies, including the Princess of the Night, stood up. Cheering at the mastery of what they’ve just heard.

Chapter 49: Missa Solemnis (Part 2) in B b Major.

Several minutes later, the orchestra and choir continued into the next section: The Credo. From what those in the theater could interpret, this next prayer was more of a decoration of the god that Beethoven worshiped. It explained, rather slowly, of what the composer believed from the message the banner showed.

Like the Gloria, the singers passionately sang their hearts out. Unapologetically, and loudly saying the mystical language out into the darkened theater. But then, just as it rose to a new height in volume, the orchestra suddenly slowed down and became quieter. In the sudden stillness, the basses and tenors started to sing.

Et incarnátus est de Spíritu Sancto Ex María Vírgine,
(He was incarnate by the Holy Spirit, of the Virgin Mary,)

In the balcony, Luna tilted her head. The sound of it was something very old, no, ancient sounding. It was like a fuzzy memory to her as the now humbled choir let out a melody, seemingly older than time. But no matter how much she tried to recall, she couldn’t find a reference to tell if such a tone was original or not. Yet, the voices, eminence and eternal, was like listening to the sky of her own domain.

Even with the quartet took over for a moment, the odd sounding notes that seemed to have no key signature, said the words in a melody that was timeless. The theater was perfumed with mystery as the Equine audience listened to the almost exotic theme. For there was nothing, even for the performers on stage, could compare it with. No culture that they know of has come close to something like this.

But then, the orchestra grew in strength, and with the main tenor leading the way, returned the piece to a familiar key.

et homo factus est.
(And was made man.)

The choir repeated the words, rejuvenating the music back to the world of the living. As the mass of ponies and the tenor took turns repeating the words, it was as if they had gained some new wisdom in the meaning that nopony else understood. But just as this relief was heard, suddenly the mood came to a dramatic and serious, with the quartet not taking the lead.

Crucifíxus étiam pro nobis sub Póntio Piláto;
(He was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate;)

Princess Luna looked down over the balcony, heads turned to one another, with as just much confusion as she. No doubt that everypony had the same questions as she had, ‘What does crucified mean? Who, or what is a Pontius Pilate?’ Even when the choir joined in an epic but still serious manner, it still didn’t give them any other indication that this “crucified” thing must be bad.

Passus, et sepúltus est,
(and was buried,)

When one of Luna’s guards read that, he leaned towards the Princess and whispered, “You know, as good as the music is, this whole thing is getting really weird.”

“One must remember that Mr. Beethoven is not from our world,” the blue alicorn softly reminded her guard. “After all, he is from a different time, culture, and society altogether. Perhaps it is no surprise that these prayers would appear strange to our eyes. Although, I do agree, a little more explanation would have helped to understand the significance of these said prayers. Though, it does make one curious as to why is giving such praise to this god.”

“Personally,” her guard whispered back, “I think that it’s just overall odd.”

Several minutes later, the choir came to the very end of Credo. A clarinet and horn singled for the beginning of the end of that movement. The short intro by the winds was cut short as the sopranos on the stand truly began the prelude.

Et vitam ventúri sǽculi. Amen.
(And the life of the world to come. Amen.)

As voices add on, the audience’s ears picked up the familiar rhythm of a fugue beginning. The counterpoint from the other singers gave off the impression of a Buch fugue as the main theme of the Latin phrase was repeated a few times. Like a living organ, each voice and instrument took turns playing with the melody before weaving notes with the others like a complex tapestry of sound.

Then, minutes later, the choir paused while the orchestra continued on, setting the theme of another fugue. This time the tempo was much faster, almost like a dare from the composer himself to try to sing on a melody as difficult as this. The choir took up the dare, the result, from Soprano to Baritone, First Violin to Percussion, engaged into the near impossible, each performer pushing themselves to the brink at the whizzing notes that went by like a hive of bees.

In the very back, Ludwig waved his hand around as if he was conducting at the beat from the choir with each powerful pronunciation of the text. For a split moment, he imagined himself as God controlling the heavens as stars and planets spun around at a madman’s pace. From this disorienting speed, he saw an order from the impossible that his equine performers were performing such a miracle.

But as the choir grew soft, he crouched in his seat, leaning forward to listen in to the quartet of voices taking on part of the mass. From what he could pick up as they sang the “Amen,” he was pleased that these opera singers were giving their voices resonate the sheer awe of what was heard. This went on for a moment before the thunder of the choir repeated the word twice before the quartet closed it with humility on their lips.

_*_

Bow was a bit nervous when he stood up before the closing of the Sanctus. He had already memorized his solo, but he felt reinsured to at least see the sheet music for the teenage Pegasus to play off from in case he had forgotten something. Looking over at the conductor and listening to the orchestra behind him, he felt tired after spending over an hour straight of playing this music in a dead language.

But as the time came when he placed his violin underneath his chin and bow at the ready, he took one last glance at the composer that was sitting in the very back. Thankfully, he was listening. Closing his eyes, he waited for just the right moment to start playing his solo. From his hooves, an aria arose with the orchestra and a gentle choir behind, Bow’s violin sang probably more sweetly than it ever been. Although, even when the young Violinist could describe it, he felt as if the song was written for him. He was on the very edge of crying.

Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
(Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.)

In his solo, Bow heard a reflection of what he wanted most for a dream come true. Although it wasn’t his voice, his violin was being heard, not in the background, but front and center. He didn’t even notice that his wings opened slightly from the heavenly ecstasy of the high notes. Even when the quartet of singers began their parts and took a few bars to breathe, Bow wanted more. He didn’t want his solo to end. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait for long as his instrument took wing into this airy melody.

The Violinist couldn’t explain it as his bow took flight, but as he played minute after glorious minute, he could have sworn that somehow, Beethoven had written the solo just for him. For the first time, all worries had melted away, nothing existed except for peace. It was sweet from those climbing high notes and rich with the choir in the background. The emotion he put into it was like how he felt when he flew for the first time – free.

Hosanna in excelsis.
(Hosanna in the highest.)

At the final minutes of the piece, when the choir sang with all their glory, a tear escaped Bow’s eye as he played on. It was not out of sadness, but one from pure joy. For all he cared, he found his destiny on that stage, playing the last, closing note before it gave way to an avalanche of applause.

“Brava!”

“Do it again!”

“Bravo!”

Cheers erupted in the theater, and although the symphony had one last movement to go, for them, it would seem that they’ve reached their finale. For the Violinist, with tears running down his face and a humble smile, bowed low to them.

“Pony! Eure Sünden werden vergeben werden!” the giant in the back bellowed out.

Chapter 50: Clarification in D minor.

“That was beautiful.”

“Yes, it was an intriguing sounding language to be sung in.”

“Did you hear that violin solo?”

“Now that was just what I needed after a long day.”

The choral piece was over, but the equine audience that came out of it was still talking away as they were leaving the theater. Beethoven looked down at the scroll, smirking at the comments he was reading as the ponies passed by him. So far, what he read was overall positive.

“Mr. Beethoven, I presume?”

Ludwig looked up to see the dark blue alicorn with her guards nearby. “I take it that you approve of my work?” the composer inquired.

“It was an excellent effort maestro. What we’ve heard tonight was something rather quite new regarding choral work. Coming from a mare that has heard quite a number of choirs in one long lifetime, which says a good deal I assure you.”

“So I take it that you liked it?”

“Of course we did, it was very good,” Luna smiled. “What we’ve heard has pushed the boundaries of what choir work can be capable of. Although... I would confess that the translated lyrics did keep us in the dark.”

Beethoven stood up from his seat, “What do you mean?” he asked before looking at the scroll.

“Now, please do not misunderstand me, I’m not saying that the original text you used was bad or anything of the such. Only, as beautiful as the music was, the meaning behind it seems rather a loss to us. From what we’ve understood, these prayers spoke of praising a god, yet, at the same time, it wasn’t clear as to why that god was being praised for.”

“Did you not read the Credo?” Ludwig interrogated. “It is the very soul of the whole mass.”

“But it still has left some unanswered questions.” Luna clarified, “Please keep in mind, Equestria has no knowledge of your beliefs or the contexts behind them. For all we know, there is a creator god, and a son that, for one reason or another, had gotten someone named ‘Virgin Mary’ pregnant. Then suddenly it talked about suffering at the hooves of some other individual, came back days later, to do… something. Do you see the problem here? Without letting anypony know who or what you are talking about, the full meaning of the lyrics are lost to all of us, and what is left behind is the music. Does that make sense?”

The old man stayed silent.

“Permission to speak freely Princess?” one of her guards asked.

“Granted.”

A Batpony in armor step forward, “Mr. Beethoven, I think I speak on behalf of everypony here that no one denies of the enormous effort you’ve put into this piece. There’s a sense of mystery in the language and text you’ve chosen. It has a mythology and a sound world of its very own. I would think after listening to that, Equestria would probably perform this for years to come because of its novelty.”

“Mythology?” Beethoven’s eyes narrowed, he steps forward, glaring down at the guard. “Are you calling my beliefs a myth?”

“Um… no sir, I wasn’t implying that at all. I was just-”

“Do you know why I wrote that?” Ludwig interrupted. “Do you!” the guard shook his head. “One of many reasons why I wrote that Mass is that it’s the only way I can truly worship the Almighty by the only way I know how, because, in case you have forgotten, I AM DEAF!” The Lunar Guard flinched, “When I could no longer hear those sacred prayers of the church, I had to turn towards myself, the church within the church to worship the memory of those prayers so dear to me. The only way I could do that was to write it down, for music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life. So do you think, I so much give a damn of what you or anyone thinks?”

Luna lifted her foreleg between them, “Mr. Beethoven,” the Princess of the Night scolded while holding up his scroll in his face. “He was trying to give you a compliment.”

“And I, Madame,” he snatched the scroll out of the alicorn’s aura. “Am trying to tell your guard why I’ve written the Mass in such a way.” Beethoven paused before taking in a deep breath, “I am not sorry for what I’ve said. The Mass is perfect as it is, whether you ponies understand it or not.”

The Princess sighed before responding, “Perhaps, at another time, would it be possible to set some time to explain your piece to me. Not as a critic, but as a student. I do wish to learn and understand why these lyrics mean so much to you.”

Beethoven reached into his pocket to pull out his composition book, “Perhaps at another time. I am busy at the moment, my muse is calling me.”

“Perhaps you won’t be busy in your dreams?” Luna inquired, but the giant had already rolled up his scroll before the Princess could finish.

_*_

The Night Princess was able to locate where the composer was in the dream world. It took a while to find him given that his sleeping body was on its way towards Ponyville by train. To her relief, Ludwig seemed to be having a pleasant dream at the moment. After stepping inside, she found herself in a forest and realizing her tall legs were caught in a bush. It took a minute or two to get out of them, but once she did, she set out looking for the composer. After taking flight, she spotted two figures on a trail, so she flew behind them, softly landing in order not to disturb them. They were walking slowly but close by to one another, and as the Princess noted, this dream features Mr. Beethoven to be much younger for his curly hair had not a single strand of gray. Next to him was the same woman in black that Luna saw months ago.

“Ludwig, wann kehrst du nach Wien zurück?” the veiled woman asked. “Ich weiß, wie sehr Sie den Wienerwald im Frühling lieben.”

Ludwig, walking arm in arm, patted her hand, “Ich weiß ... Ich weiß ... Aber ich habe sehr hart gearbeitet, um meine neue Symphonie zu beenden, um Sie wieder zu sehen.” Looking forward on the trail they’ve been walking on, the oaks and birch trees stood proudly in the glow of dawn. Fresh green grass and buds of flowers slowly open up in the cold dew. “Ich hoffe, Sie fühlen sich besser, wie ist Ihre Gesundheit?”

“Meine Erkältung ist gegangen, zumindest - obwohl mein Arzt mir gesagt, nicht zu essen rotes Fleisch oder Rotwein für den nächsten Monat.” The veiled woman looked over to him. “Ungeachtet meiner Gesundheit mache ich mir immer noch Sorgen um dich. Herr Beethoven, wann erwarten Sie, nach Hause zu kommen?”

“Die ersten drei Sätze meiner Symphonie sind vollständig; Ich muss den vierten Satz beenden. Aber wenn Sie bedenken, wie einzigartig ein Ansatz für diese Musik, die ich tun muss, ist, meine Vermutung, dass ich in der Lage, es bis zum Ende des Frühlings zu beenden.”

At this point, Luna cleared her throat, “I hope I’m not interrupting something important.”

The couple sharply turned around, the veiled woman jumped with a gasp while Mr. Beethoven with a mild annoyance, “You again?”

“Pardon my ignorance on human physiology,” the blue alicorn began, “but is it me or have you grown to be much younger?” She then turned her head towards the woman in black, “Friend of yours I presume?”

“What do you want now?” Ludwig asked coldly.

“I was hoping if this would be a good time to talk a little further on the choir piece you’ve given us. But as I can see, it would seem that I’ve stumbled upon a much more… personal moment.”

“Ludwig, wer ist das Pony?” the woman in black inquired. “Wie kann sie sprechen und warum trägt sie eine Krone?”

“Sie ist ein einzigartiger Freund von mir.” Ludwig said as he waved a hand towards Luna. “Dies ist Prinzessin Luna, Herrscher der Nacht und hat kein Gefühl der Privatsphäre.” He then turned towards the Princess, “This here is someone that is very dear to me. I owe her quite a lot in my life to.”

“Really?” Luna tilted her head, “I didn’t know that you were married.”

Beethoven paused, “I’m not…” he shook his head, “Will you be staying here for long? I wish to continue my walk.”

“Could I join you then? I wouldn’t mind a little stroll through the woods when I ask a few questions. It won’t take very long; I should be out of your mane in no time.”

After asking the veiled woman, Ludwig allowed the Princess to walk with them further down the trail of his dream. As they did so, the trees started to take on different shapes. The Birch trees looked like clarinets while the oaks took on shapes of cellos. Even the bird calls sounded more like flutes and piccolos.

“Could you tell me please,” Luna began, “what are the origins of the god that you wrote in that choir piece?”

“That may take a long time to explain,” Ludwig pointed out.

“In dreams, time flows much slower, so please, begin at the beginning, go on until you get to the end, then stop.”

And so, Beethoven described to Luna, as much as he could, the story of creation, of Adam and Eve, of the tribes of Israel, of Moses, of King Solomon, and the prophets of the Old Testament. But when he got to the New Testament, however, when he described the atonement to Luna only did she suddenly raise a wing, “I have a question.”

“Over what?”

“About these parts of the crucifixion, when this Messiah offers himself to put himself into indescribable suffering from torture to execution, only after to come back afterward, for the sole purpose to give mankind a clean slate of the transgressions that their long-dead ancestors, Adam and Eve had committed, correct?”

“That is true,” Ludwig nodded but raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, now here’s my question: why does this God, who you said was all good, is better than its creation morally, who instead of simply saying the words to their ancestors ‘I forgive you,’ demands to have a human sacrifice on behalf of everyone, only for that sacrifice to come back to life which is not much of a sacrifice if you really think about it?”

Beethoven’s eye twitched, “What are you implying?”

“I’m saying that as clear as your devotion to this, isn’t this a little… what’s that word? Inconsistent? Don’t get me wrong, in Equestria, you can think as freely as you wish as long as it doesn’t harm anyone, but shouldn’t this have some consistency?”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” the composer replied.

Luna frowned, “You have no answer to my question, do you?”

“What do I look like? A priest? I just told you from what I know. Now I don’t want to discuss this further.”

“But what you have told me doesn’t make sense. For example, if this god knows everything, why would he let Adam and Eve eaten the forbidden fruit when he could just step in to prevent it?”

“Holen Sie sich die Hölle aus meinem Traum!” Beethoven shouted. “Get out!”

Luna stepped off the trail, recoiling from the response, “Alright! Alright!” she then tore a hole back into the dream world with her horn, “It never hurts to ask,” she added before she left the composer to his dream.”

“Was hat Sie gesagt?” the woman in black inquired.

Ludwig sighed, “Vergiss es,” he told her. “Ich schwöre, ich bin an einigen Tagen von Idioten umgeben.”

_*_

Ludwig woke up earlier than he intended to. With the ever-present ringing in his ears, his head turned towards the covered window of the train car. Sitting up carefully as to not to hit his head, he pulled away the blinder to see that they were not quite to Ponyville yet. They were passing through a forest.

The composer reached over for his pair of headphones and the tiny music machine to turn it on. After selecting the item, he laid back down, putting the speakers onto his cheekbone, closing his tired eyes to listen to the recording of birds singing. In his imagination, he could have sworn that the random, staccato chirps were the war cries of flutes.

‘Perhaps I could use that,’ his groggy mind thought.

Chapter 51: Reflections in A minor.

Ludwig did not return to his apartment when the train arrived in Ponyville. With the snow now cleared away, the sun finally gave its warmth and the color green had returned, the giant decided to take a stroll before he went to have some lunch. In fact, Beethoven didn’t go into town right away, his attention turned to the Whitetail Woods to get away from everypony for a while to reflect.

Before he stepped into the threshold of the forest, the giant took a moment to pause, taking out the little music machine and the pair of headphones from his pocket. After selecting a song and putting the speakers over his head, he walked on with both his hands behind his back. From the speakers, a familiar piece he heard long ago came through, a Moztrot melody of strings and woodwinds went through his skull like a gentle breeze before the reply of the piano came for him to meditate.

‘I hate having these thoughts,’ he considered mentally. ‘First the French, and now from the dream princess – all question the wisdom that I was taught as a boy. What do they know of the Bible? What do they know of God’s goodness and all he did for mankind’s salvation? As far as I know, the Moon Princess is just arrogant for questioning something so sacred! This shouldn’t bother me in the least…

‘Yet… why is it so? I only told her from what I know as a little boy. Grant it, I haven’t attended mass in… when was it again? Last Easter? Christmas…?’ Walking over a little bridge, Ludwig shook his head. ‘Oh come now! Listen to yourself! Just because you haven’t gone to communion doesn’t mean that you’re not virtuous. You work hard, wrote a handful of Masses, and tried to unite mankind with the last symphony! Not to mention you say your prayers twice a day, even in this foreign land. Even when you're hearing was completely lost seven years ago, you still pray, you still believe in the Almighty. That is what you believe… isn’t it?’

While Beethoven continued to walk on, for a moment, his busy mind took a pause. Part of his should have answered, “Yes, absolutely.” But there was something within him that was calling it out as a lie. As if the question he asked himself wasn’t so easy to answer. This concerned him. He remembered from the dream last night when the blue alicorn advised him to be consistent in his thoughts and beliefs. It was something that the Age of Enlightenment has taught him to find consistency in the nature of everything, to replace superstition with practical knowledge.

Then he started to ask himself another question: Why?

‘Even if that arrogant mare was right, that the stories in the Bible are inconsistent, then why do I still believe?’ The old man walked forward on the trail, stuffing his hands in his pockets full of paper. As the movement in the piano concerto continued in its wondering, so did Ludwig’s mind as he navigated through the ever-present noise in his head. Did he ever doubt – maybe when he talked about the ideas of the Enlightenment that demanded to question everything that Vienna stood for. To use reason as a compass for a way of thinking, yet, he knew that he had taken a different path when he wrote his third symphony.

Walking through the woods, he pondered back to some of the darker days of Vienna, when the French came marching in. Back when it seemed that hope was banished underneath the tyranny of Napoleon. Back to the days when his deafness was becoming more pronounced, further isolating him. And yet, within him, there was still a small fire of hope of a better future.

Then he remembered something: back in the days when he was being taught by Salieri, “Music Herr Beethoven,” he recalled him saying, “is the very language of God. While words may change in meaning with time until the original has transformed completely, music cannot. Every note is either right or wrong absolutely, nothing, not even time could change that.” The more Ludwig thought about it, the more he wondered if one of his old teachers was really onto something.

Suddenly, he felt his legs had bumped into something. Quickly looking down, he found that he nearly ran into Fluttershy who backed away. “Oh, beg your pardon!” she said.

“Did you say something?” Ludwig asked, and the Pegasus nodded. As he was searching through his pockets for the magic scroll, he inquired, “What are you doing out here for little Fräulein?”

She waited until he took out and unrolled the scroll, “I was double checking to see if there were any animals that have slept in after Winter Wrap Up. What are you doing out here Mr. Beethoven?”

“I was in deep thought. Something came up that I needed to think through before I could return working.”

“What were you thinking about?”

For a moment, Ludwig looked up, “Divinity.” He looked back down at the yellow Pegasus with a curious look. “But I don’t suppose you want to listen to an old man’s thoughts.”

“On the contrary,” Fluttershy began, “since I hardly get to see you, perhaps we could… I don’t know, talk a little? I’m willing to listen.”

Beethoven, putting one hand in his pocket, started to walk around to continue down the trail, “Are you coming to walk with me or not?”

The shy pony did and listened to the giant’s story of the Mass that was performed in Baltimare the night before, of Princess’s Luna’s questions and what he has been reflecting on. Fluttershy didn’t interrupt except to ask the occasional question before thinking up a proper response.

However, Ludwig beat her to it, “Does this world have any religions of its own?”

“I guess it all depends on the pony you ask,” she said. “Personally, I don’t really know anypony that belongs to a group like yours… Or at least, as far as I know. There used to be a cult that surrounded themselves around the Princesses. Although I don’t know too much about, you probably want to talk to Twilight about that. But tell me, this religion of yours, what does it do?”

Beethoven gave some thought, “To comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.”

“I see…” Fluttershy thought for a moment, “How is this done?”

“By charity, through prayers, sermons, the holy scriptures, and the word of the Almighty,” Ludwig answered.

“Is that the only way to do it?”

The giant looked down at her, “What are you implying?”

“I mean… that perhaps, if I was a goddess, and I wanted to spread a message that would be understood by everypony, and it wouldn’t change through time, I… I might not want to write it down in words. After all, when books get older, the words they use and the meaning of it tend to get lost among other ponies centuries after they have been written. Maybe, if I had the talent, I might instead compose music for all to hear.” The yellow Pegasus looked up at him, “I think your old teacher is right on one thing: that each note in music is timeless and can penetrate through all cultures and countries. Why… when they played your symphony on Hearths Warming Eve, the ending was the most beautiful and most comforting thing that I have ever heard. Maybe that is why your music is so popular, not just because it sounds pretty, but it speaks to anyone who would listen.”

For a while, Ludwig was silent. While his mind was still full of constant noise, he saw wisdom from this mare. Perhaps, the scriptures and prayers as he knows them will change their meaning in a thousand years or so. Maybe the sermons and prophecies would become less understood by many to eventually be studied by few who could decipher them. Yet, she was right, the emotion and comfort in the music will still remain the same.

He felt a tug on his coattails before looking back down at the pony as she mouthed, “Are you alright, Mr. Beethoven?”

“Yes… Yes, I think that I am.” He paused for a moment by a tree to lean back on. “All this reflection of my beliefs, and I think you just gave me the answer.”

Fluttershy blinked, “I did?”

Ludwig nodded before looking up at the sky, “So in return, I will share to you what I believe. Don’t only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets, for it and knowledge can raise men to the Divine. Yes, that is my philosophy. For us musicians are perhaps as close to the Almighty as we can be, we hear his voice, and I read his lips.” Then he looked down, “My mind is clear now. Thank you little one.”

“If you wanted to have somepony to listen to,” Fluttershy advised him, “you can always come to me. That is… if you wanted to.”

Beethoven nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind Fräulein. Now on your way,” he pulled out his composition book, “I have work to do.”

_*_

“The Crystal Empire?” Frederic Horseshoepin raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t the Equestrian Games taken place over there Ms. Melody?”

Octavia sipped her tea, “Indeed, but we are planning to perform after the games. Rehearsal wise, we have roughly about a month and a half to go through Mr. Beethoven’s pieces.”

The Pianist leaned back from his seat to pluck a flower from his Canterlot garden, “Could you remind me again what we’re playing exactly?”

“Well, we should open with a twenty-minute fantasy that requires a piano, an orchestra and a choir at the very end – after that is a disturbing sounding overture, and then his Eighth symphony which thankfully is much shorter than his previous ones.”

“A disturbing sounding overture?” Frederic inquired before munching on a daisy. “What do you mean?”

The Cellist thought for a moment, “I… I don’t know how to describe it, to be honest. Sure, I’ve read the score, but I can’t help but feel that there is something… (oh what’s the word?) monstrous about it. From beginning to end, the mood is tense from the start, even at the soothing parts.”

“So you are getting bad vibes from a piece of music?”

Sighing, she replied, “Something along those lines. But other than that, the rest I am looking forward to.”

“Oh you poor dear,” the stallion chuckled, “don’t tell me you’ve got the case of Stockhoof syndrome?”

Octavia mockingly laughs, “Very funny. No, it’s not that, but partly because after playing the giant’s music for nearly a year, at least I have an idea what to expect.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Just out of curiosity, do you still hold a grudge against Mr. Beethoven?”

“Come on Ms. Melody,” the Pianist said as he poured some more tea. “I don’t outright hate him, after having to play that difficult concerto. But after I’ve been publishing some of my pieces, I’ve been looking into his sonatas.”

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Horseshoepin paused for a moment, “Actually, I did.” He said before sipping his cup, “Considering how he told us a couple months back of his experience going deaf and knowing that he’s pretty much in the same boat as I am that being away from our homeland, I’m now seeing his work with empathy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that this makes me like him, but rather, I do understand where he’s coming from.”

“Understandable,” Octavia nodded as she took out from her saddlebag, a bounded manuscript before setting it on the table. “So I can safely say you will play the Choral Fantasy?”

“Let me take a look,” Frederic took the sheet music and began flipping through it. He studied carefully at the piano parts for several minutes, “Difficult,” he muttered. “But very pretty at the same time… Interesting too… Not to mention challenging, but then again, this is Beethoven we’re talking about. Yet… I think I can do it with the composer’s help.”

“Then once I get home, I’ll inform Mr. Beethoven about your decision.” Octavia took one last gulp from her tea, “Besides, it’s good for you to have me over for tea, my friend.”

“No problem,” the stallion replied before closing the book, “Besides, even in the month of Hearts and Hooves, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Chapter 53: The Crystal Concert in D Major (Part 1).

Svengallop scowled as he looked at the news article that might have been the thousandth time since they got on the train. It was something that he hoped would never see in the past couple of months, yet, there in black and white was the very cause of his disappointment and his client’s excitement.

Beethoven’s Fortunes Turned Around

After the failure of the experimental quartet piece a couple months ago, the composer, Ludwig van Beethoven has seemed to have regained his status in the musical world through his choral work. A mysterious but stunningly beautiful work, “The Missa Solemnis,” has reminded us why we love Beethoven’s music.

The hour-long piece was performed in Vanhoover, to which has since been given positive reviews from critics and audiences – and for good reasons. While the enter thing is sung in a language called Latin, the melodies, complex fugues, and the stunning violin solo near the end were just enough to gain the Giant’s reputation back. While the actual translation is still cryptic, it does work to its favor in giving the music a sense of mysterious grandeur from another world. The violin solo near the end is probably the most memorable because of how heart-breakingly beautiful it is, probably setting a new benchmark for serious violinists to come.

Since the Missa Solemnis was a hit, the Canterlot Philharmonic and the Canterlot Opera Company have scheduled to play in the Crystal Empire to premiere a new choral piece for orchestra and piano; a tragic overture; and the composer’s Eighth Symphony. This next concert will be held after the Equestrian Games at the newly built “Illumination Opera House.”

It is also reported that Beethoven is seeking to increase the size of the choir while at the Empire to rehearse for his Ninth Symphony.

“Aren’t you excited Sven?” the manager looked up to his client. They were in a specially made private train car that was designed for these long trips. Sprinkled in luxury and comfort, the car was heated to combat the falling snow outside.

The Countess’s manager set his newspaper aside. “To a degree,” he simply said.

“I can’t wait,” the Singer beamed, “I’m so glad for Beethoven to come back on top again. Did you hear that violin solo?”

“I have Countess,” he propped his head with a hoof, his eye looking out the window to the waltzing snow, “Though I consider it too long for my tastes.”

“Well, I thought it was perfect, kinda romantic too.” The Countess reached for another bonbon from a nearby pedestal. “I would really be interested to hear it live whenever I get the chance. Do you think we’ll get the chance to meet the violinist who did play that?”

“The recording you have is from the Canterlot Philharmonic, so I wouldn’t be that surprised.”

“Do you think that I would play a part in his Ninth?” she wondered aloud before popping the chocolate in her mouth.

“Well, it is what you want Countess,” Svengallop responded. “If you wanted to suddenly sing classical music, then I must make it happen. It is my job, after all, to get you in after all.”

“I’ve chosen my audition piece,” she told him.

This got her manager’s attention, “You did?”

She nodded; she got up and went over to one of the trunks, “If I’m going to be auditioning to sing for Beethoven, I think I need to sing something that would impress him. To make a long story short,” she opened up the lid and dug around, “I’ve looked through libraries on solo pieces to find something that would match up his demanding music. And I think I have found the very song to convince him to let me join,” here, she pulled out an aged, yellowed music sheet and hoofed it over to Svengallop.

The white stallion raised a pink eyebrow, “Vifilly?”

“With all those singing lessons,” the Countess smiled, “I believe I can do it. I mean, it’s not as difficult as those other songs that I sing on a daily basis.”

Svengallop flipped through the music, “You know it’s in Istallion, right?”

“I know,” she nodded, “I’ve been practicing how to pronounce it for a while now, but I think I’m ready.”

_*_

Hours later and finding a place to sleep, both Countess Coloratura and her manager set towards the Crystal Empire’s opera house with a small band of bodyguards. Around the shiny streets and through their equally sparkly crowds that recognize the singer, along with the occasional stop for the Countess to stamp a couple of her fan’s albums, they managed to get to the crowded opera house.

The building itself, like the rest of the city-state, was made in a towering, lilac crystal structure with columns and a massive dome. It was brilliantly lit by sage lights that help illuminate the grand theater. So the singer, her manager and the bodyguards slipped through a passageway that leads up to the box seats to where theirs was reserved. Their spot happened to overlook the oval-shaped auditorium and the stage that held many chairs, a shiny grand piano with its lid taken off, and the conductor stand. Overhead from the stage, a bank banner stretched across each wing, but nopony could miss the wire that held a hanging microphone. Near the stage, a seat that was noticeably larger had a set of electrical equipment with a white unicorn fiddling around. Above her was a massive and elaborate chandler that held hundreds of lit candles to give light to the nearly crowded house.

“Imagine what it would be like to play in here,” the Countess commented.

Svengallop looked over at the interior of the theater, “It would be a challenge to play in here, given the shape of this place, given the acoustics.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this place,” he pointed out, “This was built solely so that you won’t need a microphone. I can practically hear everything here. You might drop a pin and everypony would hear it.”

Minutes later, the theater stood up as a light shined upon a particular box where the banner of the Empire was on full display. From behind the curtain, that audience applauded as Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor came through, waved and took their seats.

It didn’t take long for the orchestra to fall in; they walked to their seats with their instruments. Some of them were beginning to tune up, a humming that grew from the winds to the strings, then onto the brass. Next, the choir came as they trotted up to the stand behind the orchestra; each of them held their scores close by. Then the Pianist and Conductor took their places, waving to an applauding audience. But even then, they did not start. Out from the wings of the stage, came the giant himself to which the younger members of the audience screamed. Many of them were stamping their hooves while others were waving pieces of cloth or their hats as Ludwig hopped off the stage and towards his special chair. Once he sat down, he took out a pair of headphones from his pockets and placed them over his head.

“He didn’t so much as a wave to anypony,” Svengallop commented quietly before the Countess shushed him.

Once the younger members of the audience calmed down, the lights dimmed, but the stage brightens for all to see. It was here that Sea Sharp spoke, “Good evening mares and gentlecolts,” she began. “Before we start, let me say that on behalf of the Canterlot Philharmonic, the Canterlot Opera Company, and of Mr. Beethoven, we thank you all so kindly for coming out to hear us play.”

There was applause before the blue unicorn continued, “Tonight, we’ll be playing in the course of an hour, three new pieces from Ludwig van Beethoven. The first you are going to hear is a fantasy for piano, orchestra, and choir, which will, in the end, will be sung in the composer’s native language of German. After a ten minute intermission, we’ll be playing for you the…” she took out a piece of paper from the stand, “Coriolan Overture, (I think that’s how you pronounce it) then finally, we’ll premier the eighth symphony. Oh! When the choir starts singing, a translation will be provided above me. So without wasting any more time, let us begin with Ludwig van Beethoven’s, Choral Fantasy.”

After the applause died down, Horseshoepin looked down at the keys for a moment before looking up at the microphone that was overhead. Then he glanced over at the giant who nodded for him to begin. Setting his hooves down on the first chords, he opened up with a solo prelude.

From the piano, a grand but serious opening emerged. The intimation of thunder came out from the instruments’ mouth that included its echo. Chords climbed up and down before a moment of peace than to suddenly repeat those stormy notes. This storm only lasted for a moment before the keys started to trickle down like morning rain that soon became enveloped with the storm. Winds from the lower notes blew the higher ones into a whirlwind.

Yet, just as soon as it began, the storm subsided for something to escape. Like a bird, Horseshoepin’s hoof was now set free into the open air of the Opera House. Young but wondering flyer, the keys were searching for a new direction as if it were lost. That was when suddenly the starting melody reappeared, but the free flyer would not give way to the strong currents.

Next, to the Countess, her manager looked at his watch, frowning. It was nearly three minutes since the soloist started, he wondered when or if it will get interesting. That was when he heard, softly at first, the lower strings were finally making themselves known. The cellos repeated the opening theme while the piano tries to start a new line of conversation – even when the rest of the orchestra starts, the notes from the piano still fly’s over.

But the serious tone was broken, however, when a pair of horns suddenly, and finally, gave the music color that it was missing. Suddenly the drably orchestra was dragged out into something colorful. Even the piano seemed to finally found something agreeable. Now the borderline improvised music was taking on a much younger, if not joyful tone as it soars into the air with its newfound peace. Even the pianist was now enjoying this new change when a single flute joined in with the flight. Oboes too took courage in singing this new melody before the bassoons seemed to bounce around with the idea. Then a string quartet took the airy concept into a short Moztrotian style, and before anypony knew it, the orchestra readied themselves as it flew together at once, like a flock of birds.

“It’s catchy,” the Countess whispered. “I think I rather like it.”

“Show off,” Svengallop muttered, but his client didn’t hear it as the piano became one with the orchestra. Horseshoepin seemed to exploring this joyful theme as his hooves went up and down the keyboard, pulling out every trick in the book to give the music texture, color, and emotion like a painting. For the soloist, he could see in his mind’s eye that he was using the instrument to paint a massive canvas of bright violins and dark bassoons with a splash of timpani – and the keyboards were his paintbrush.

Almost like an adventurer, the Pianist explored several moods and hidden corners to the interest of the crystal opera house. One minute, he would be pounding out a rebellious rhythm, the next he walks into the music’s elegant side with its trembling trills.

Thankfully, the orchestra wasn’t too far behind on this musical adventure. Strong chords provided the majestic mountains while the winds its elusive forests. At times, there would be pizzicato of falling rain while at others the blinding light from the shiny horns.

Before long, the choir at last opened up their scores – and while a quartet of singers began, the banner above formed words in which the audience took notice.

Schmeichelnd hold und lieblich klingen unseres Lebens Harmonien,
(How lovely and fair the sound the harmonies of our life,)

und dem Schönheitssinn entschwingen Blumen sich, die ewig blühn.
(From a sense of beauty arise flowers that bloom forever)

Fried und Freude gleiten freundlich wie der Wellen Wechselspiel.
(Peace and joy flow hand in hand like the changing play of the waves.)

Was sich drängte rauh und feindlich, ordnet sich zu Hochgefühl.
(Dark emotions, rough and hostile, now order themselves into exalted feeling.)

Wenn der Töne Zauber walten und des Wortes Weihe spricht,
(When music’s enchantment reigns and poetry’s consecration speaks,)

muss sich Herrliches gestalten, Nacht und Stürme werden Licht.
(wondrous things take shape , night and storms turn to light.)

Äuss're Ruhe, inn're Wonne herrschen für den Glücklichen.
(Outer peace, inner bliss are the rulers of the happy man.)

Doch der Künste Frühlingssonne lässt aus beiden Licht entstehn.
(But the arts, like the spring sun, causes light to flow from both.)

Then suddenly, the whole orchestra and choir explode in great joy.

Großes, das ins Herz gedrungen, blüht dann neu und schön empor.
(Great things that have touched the heart, blossoms anew and beautifully on high.)

Hat ein Geist sich aufgeschwungen, hallt ihm stets ein Geisterchor.
(The spirit that soars upwards is echoed eternally by a chorus of spirits.)

Nehmt denn hin, ihr schönen Seelen, froh die Gaben schöner Kunst
(Noble souls, greatly receive the gifts of the noble art)

Wenn sich Lieb und Kraft vermählen, lohnt den Menschen Göttergunst.
(When love and strength are joined together, mankind is rewarded with divine favor.)

While they repeated the words again, the momentum still continued. The solo singers took their turns to shine before the choir returned with greater strength. This went back and forth with Horseshoepin balancing the piano with the magnificent song of the choir. A few minutes later, and feeling like he was galloping a marathon, the Pianist and the orchestra hammered the closing chords to the roar of the crystallized audience.

Among those who were clapping their hooves, Coloratura shouted “Bravo!” over the roar before turning to her manager, “That was really good, wasn’t it?”

“Yes Countess,” he replied in a deadpanned tone. “That was very excellent indeed.”

Chapter 54: The Crystal Concert in D Major (Part 2).

Author's Note

My apologies for taking so long, a user named Circut Breaker has volunteered to edit this chapter (and to this point, the next several chapters to come). So please excuse my tardiness and please enjoy this chapter.

P. S. I am looking forward in describing the Ninth too. :pinkiehappy:

Chapter 54: The Crystal Concert in D Major (Part 2).

During intermission, the Opera House became noisy with conversations from the audience. The choir had already left and the piano was pushed off stage. The stage itself was open but bare except for the chairs and music stands. Svengallop glanced down at the giant in his sized-up chair, who had his headphones around his neck and writing something down. With his forelegs resting on the railing of the box, he sat there thinking.

“Something on your mind?”

“Hm?” he looked over to the Countess.

“You looked like you were thinking about something,” she clarified.

“Oh, I am. I was just planning ahead somewhat.”

“And that being… what?”

He sighed, “Countess, I’ve been thinking. Suppose Mr. Beethoven did let you sing in his next concert, what is it precisely are you trying to accomplish here? His music is still in the top ten and your songs are just barely underneath, he upstaged you back in November, so why exactly do you want to audition for him?”

“Because it’s rather a smart choice,” she told him. “I mean, think about it – if Beethoven let me in, even just to be part of the choir, I would get to sing his awesome music and you could spread the publicity that I’m in it. You’ll get ponies to coming in not just to hear me, but also to listen to some great stuff from the guy. So it’s really a win-win situation for everypony.”

Her manager hummed, “I suppose so… However, since I’m gonna take this chance to get your music back on top, it has to be big. Something that will get your audience back for sure…” He thought for a moment, looking down at the chatting audience until his eyes rested on the electrical equipment by a familiar looking white unicorn. It was then, that he got an idea, “I got it!” he said. “I think I just thought up the perfect way to do it.”

“You do?”

Svengallop smirked, “I think, that if Mr. Beethoven lets you join, perhaps I could persuade him into making you a lead singer if possible, and have his concert be broadcast live to all of Equestria and beyond. Perhaps I could even pull a few strings to have not only his music but your voice be heard around the world. After all, that new radio thing is becoming increasingly popular in its’ use, so why not have your gorgeous voice be heard in every living room on the planet?”

“Sven,” his client grinned, “That’s a great idea! If the audition goes well, you should really put that together.”

“Yes Countess,” he said as he noticed that the Philharmonic was starting to return to their seats. As soon as the orchestra sat down, they started to tune their instruments and even played random passages of what was to come. For a few minutes, the chaotic sounds of each section were nearly drowned out by the chatting audience until the lights dimmed.

The conductor reappeared on stage once more and the crystal onlookers kindly applauded as she went up to the stand. For a moment, the Opera House became still in its silence. Waiting to see what this Overture had in store for them.

What came out from them was surprising, it wasn’t a grand opening nor was it quiet. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3qbOTgEJOkInstead, the first two chords could only be described as monstrous. If anypony were asleep, those enormous, loud clashes would certainly wake them up. This repeated three times before the violas and cellos shanghaied the audience down to something darker compared with the opening music. The strings were filled with shadows, and the winds bare as dim lanterns. As to the melody itself, it was like following a stranger down a twisted, narrow street.

Unlike the opening music, there was something rather unfriendly about the Overture, yet intriguing. Even at the climax, with its entire dark atmosphere, the violins quickly followed it with some relieving light. However, the mood shifted again as it went to a minor key, still keeping tension among the musicians. Nopony in the entire audience could make up their minds that if the music was presuming a monster, or it was presuming after them. The cellos were chasing them while the oboes and violins still kept up the tension, even at its quieter moments, the persistent heartbeat of a tempo refused to let up.

But when those screaming chords from the beginning reappeared, the Opera House knew, it was the very music that was running away from a bloodthirsty monster. Something huge that was crashing its way down the narrow melody like a dark dragon. The violins hid underneath the shadowy sound until the monster past and sighed with relief. Then, they and the clarinets tried to make their way through the rubble of the lower strings. The two sections searched for an exit the winds held a sense of uncertainty and doubt.

Then to their horror, with a crescendo of strings, the beast had spotted them! Now it was a life or death run through the slim bars. Trying to get out of the roaring creature’s sight, to hide away to throw it off its tracks. For a brief moment, it would seem that they have done it. But before the clarinets could get their breath back, they were on the run again. The horns were blowing fire as the midnight monster was on their tails.

The creature let out a few terrible roars, and then it slowed down. What was this? Had the thing caught up with its prey? The violas and the tense cellos became sluggish, almost as if the moment itself had become frozen. The monstrous melody was no longer scary but confused, had it lost them at last? Pizzicato strings dew a rather large question mark as the orchestra finished the Overture.

It took a moment before the Equine audience applauded, if not uneasily. “Well,” the Countess commented, “That was rather… dark.”

“What is he up to?” her manager murmured. “Gone from cherry music to that? Why would he do that?”

On stage, the Philharmonic was switching music sheets to the last piece of that night, seemingly unaffected by the change of mood in the Opera House. Even Beethoven was rather unmoved in his chair. Arms folded, he could barely make out the whispering that was being picked up from his headphones. Yet, even at that moment, he still felt confident like a chess master. After all, it was his idea to bring his audience into the darkness, and when the unicorn conductor lifted her baton, it was said that night that those who were near the composer had heard him say, “Es werde Licht.”

From the grim atmosphere, the orchestra’s opening to the Eighth Symphony burst open with the sounds of dawn. The opening chords illuminated the theater in strings, horns, and percussion followed closely by Moztrotian winds. It was bright, youthful, if not a touch mischievous, bursting with energy like a foal upon golden sands. Clarinets playfully skipped whilst violins trembled in a breeze. Even with those thumping horns, it was almost like exploring the idyllic paradise of an island with all of nature on full display.

There was so much wind in the piece, the bassoons, and oboes swaying like palm trees while the energy of the strings, percussion, and the horns trotted at different speeds to explore different parts of this paradise of a movement. From the sunlit fields of flowery violins and violas to the shadowy groves of the cellos and oboes, the rush of the rhythm shifts spontaneously changed color, but never relieved it’s mood.

The music was chock full of childhood hopes and dreams with a touch of adventure. From the younger audience, dreams of pirates and the search of treasure were evoked by the music. They could almost hear the booming cannons from the compressed beats of the strings and horns. It was easy for them to daydream with the correct balance of wonderment and a swashbuckling melody.

For the parents in the audience, they thought about their children. All those little moments of playtime, of pretending with their toys, drawings, and games with their foals blended together with the music. With the sudden changes and crescendos, the robust theme had its own sense of fun while never once insulting its own audience.

In the royal box, Princess Cadance leaned against her husband. To their minds, it was a wish of what they could have once everything was settled within the Empire. A foal of their own that would be as happy, curious, and bouncy as the strings.

Even the Countess was caught up in this youthful spell; her mind went back to those days at summer camp when she was just a filly. Back to those days when she would play tag, splash around in the cool lake, and scaring the wits out of other campers by the campfire. This opening movement reminded her of the one pony that she had shared so much time with from so many summers ago, and how fun she was.

Near the end of the movement, Beethoven had one hand on his headphones and the other moving around with the music. His fingers twiddled about like he was trying to play the violins, clarinets, drums and the bright horns all at once. He almost had the urge to spring up from the seat as the orchestra went to one last crescendo, only for the winds to bring it to a close.

As soon as it did, the audience was applauding. Their spirits successfully lifted after the gloomy music from before. Of course, Ludwig picked up the rumbling from the vibrations of his headphones, so glancing over his shoulder; he smirked at the nodding approval of his shiny audience.

Once it all died down, the Philharmonic turned to the next movement, the shortest one they’ve ever done. And it started out as a kind of dance. Sixteenth notes from the winds pulsed out a metronome-like beat as the violins began their graceful scherzando. The cellos entered a kind of duet with the higher notes, waltzing together in the air of the opera house.

In their box, the Countess’s hoof tapped to the beat in time to the music. “It’s like something you dance to at the Grand Galloping Gala, doesn’t it?” she whispered.

‘More like clichéd ballet music,’ Svengallop thought, he could easily see it as something as those mares in bright pink tutus would dance to. The melody and the shockingly steady rhythm were bouncy and agile as it leaped, bent, and twirled around. In a way, it was something that he might use to start falling asleep, the bassoons, oboes, and horns making it sound serene while the strings, it sounds like the violins and cellos were dancing on water.

The one thing he could be grateful about was that that movement was short, much to the surprise of the audience. Yet, they did clap their hooves nonetheless. On stage, the Philharmonic moved on with the next part of the symphony.

_*_

The final movement of the symphony began with a murmur. It started softly with the violins and flutes, jittery and excited. And suddenly, the orchestra exploded, rushing into the audience with horns and thundering drums. A minute ricochet off the walls of the oval theater, where violas and piccolos, humming cellos and triumphant bassoons bounced around like a room full of rubber balls. The sheer energy and momentum were great and unstoppable as one instrument danced with each other blindly, not taking note of what was going on.

Even at its serene parts when the music tried to give the audience a break, it was cut short as the orchestra thundered on its way like an avalanche. What maddening music that was both bewildering and a joy to listen to! Ponies were listening to it intently as the dizzying melody swept them up in this roller-coaster ride of a piece. This was what they’ve come to hear! This was it! This was the Beethoven that they were looking for!

The Countess glanced over to see that even her manager was caught up in the wild spell; she smirked as he his forehoof tapped to the beat. “You like this?” she whispered.”

Svengallop froze before he set his hoof down firmly. “It’s… decent, I’ll give you that.”

She giggled at that, “C’mon, you’re enjoying this.”

Her manager rolled his eyes, “So what? This isn’t that bad.” He folded his forelegs before adding, “Could use some lasers to make it interesting.”

The chaotic ballet continued on within the orchestra. Who, along with their audience, were enjoying themselves immensely. It was almost as if they were playing a game of skill with their instruments. Letting the music sing to form a balancing act that would put any circus to shame, all the while their notes doing flips, back turns, and even somersaults – yet, there was still perfect harmony in the loud, almost borderline discorded song.

Several minutes later, this cosmic piece came to an end at a tremendous crescendo, the dance of the instruments performed their great firework-like display of grandeur before the final chords took a bow. The equine audience stood up and applauded, shouting Beethoven’s name above the “Bravo’s!” and “Awesome!” To this, it didn’t take long for Ludwig to notice as he heard it through his headphones. He got out from his chair, turned around, and bowed.

The orchestra did the same as the tsunami of cheers flooded the opera house, even the Countess did the same as she cheered with everypony else (much to the discomfort of her manager).

Then finally, when it all died down, a spotlight was trained upon the Royal box to which the couple stood up. “Mr. Beethoven?” Cadance raised her voice, “Can you hear me?”

“Wait! Wait!” Ludwig waved his arm as he searched his coat pockets for the magic scroll. It took a minute or two for him to find and unroll it, “Did you say something?”

“I did,” the pink alicorn nodded. “I must say, firstly, what we’ve heard tonight has exceeded ours and everypony’s expectations. We’re very happy to have you come to the Empire with your poetic and colorful music, thank you.” The audience agreed with her as they cheered and clapped their hooves.

“Secondly,” Prince Shining Armor took over, “I speak on behalf of my wife that we are deeply impressed at what we’ve heard. So much so, we’ve decided to go ahead and let you borrow the Crystal Clear Choir to rehearse for your next symphony. After what we’ve heard, we’ll be looking forward to you blowing us all away at the amazing music that you have no doubt in store for us.”

“Thank you, Your Highnesses,” Ludwig said, “and I promise that when I reveal my Ninth to this world, it shall be the greatest moment of my life.”

“Long live Beethoven!” somepony in the audience shouted, and the ponies took up the call, already excited for the next symphony to come.

Chapter 55: Baroque or Bust in A Major.

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Chapter 56: The Calling in C # minor.

“What do you mean ‘no’!?” Svengallop demanded.

His outburst attracted several onlookers that were near the expensive café. On that morning (about a few days after the Countess auditioned,) the white Earth Pony had decided to talk with the giant at one of the Empire’s most well-renowned restaurants. The composer himself sat on a low wall, with the table at his knees, looking down at the magic scroll that was held in place with a cup and some silverware.

“As in I do not agree with the proposal,” Ludwig clarified. “It’s one thing to have your singer be the main soprano for the symphony, but it’s another when you want to have my music be taken up by your radios.”

The manager was slack-jawed, “But-But don’t you want to have your music to be heard live, from all over the world to those who probably have never heard any of your symphonies? I’m more than willing to use my money to get that thing heard!”

“It is because I have two problems of that invention,” the old man said as he reached for a handful of freshly baked rolls. “The first is that as you said, my music would be heard across the world. They say the radio can go to the living rooms of homes if they set the adjustments on that thing just right. Where would the money be if you have a huge audience that gets to listen for nothing?”

Svengallop facedhoofed. “And the other?”

“I have taken a listen to one of my pieces on the radio on the New Year; the DJ had helped me listen to the sound waves as they sang Auld Lang Syne. Although I could pick up their voices and the instruments, I could barely pick it up from all the constant hissing and crackling noise that the machine was making. So how would I know for certain that if my Choral Symphony goes into the airwaves that those with radios can hear it clearly?”

Grunting, the stallion leaned forward on the table, his forehooves firmly rubbing his temples. “Look, I’m proposing something that would benefit both of us. First of all, the radio is actually a great way to encourage ponies to buy your albums that, in case you haven’t noticed, your symphonies have been super popular on both classical and pop channels. It’s one of the reasons why you’ve been doing as well as it is. But none of your works have been done live, so this would be a great opportunity to show it off to everyone that has a radio so they would demand to buy the record.”

“Even if that were the case,” Beethoven said between bites of bread. “I can see what you’re trying to do, for I may be deaf, but that doesn’t mean that I’m an idiot. I’m not going to have your Countess be the star simply because you bribed me into doing so. As of now, there are hundreds of perfectly capable singers for the solo Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Baritone parts in the fourth movement.”

“But you’ve heard her sing!”

“So I did. She’s fortunate that I let her, besides, if for a moment I didn’t think she couldn’t sing she wouldn’t be rehearsing, to begin with. Consider yourself lucky that I at least have allowed her in at all.” He took another bite, “Besides, unlike the last time I’ve had this symphony performed, I had limited resources in what theater, orchestra, and choir to use. So because of that, my ninth didn’t make much money. This time, I’m determined to give the audience in my next concert the best of the best. Perhaps the Fräulein may sing with the other soloists, or maybe she won’t, but at least be grateful that she gets to sing at all, Herr Svengallop. I’m afraid that you will have to do better than this to convince me otherwise.”

Svengallop sighed, but before he could respond, his ears perked up, as did everypony else. A voice vibrated off from the crystal said, “Attention Citizen of the Crystal Empire and Visitors: By orders from Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor through telegram, due to an emergency in Equestria, the city is to be put on lockdown. The shield will be raised to which nopony is to enter or leave the Empire until further notice. We are ordered not to lift the shield until one of the members of the Royal family says so otherwise. We further ask to please remain calm, for the Crystal Heart will be protecting us from whatever threat that Equestria is facing. Thank you.”

As ponies all around Beethoven were showing concern, the old man looked down on the crystal wall he was sitting on. “Did someone speak just now? What is going on?”

_*_

By the time Ludwig returned to the Opera House, the sky above was covered in a sea-like dome. While it was a curious sight for the old man to see, his focus was on something else. As he walked inside the opera house, he saw that while the orchestra and a good chunk of the choir were there, they were not preparing to rehearse. Many of them sat in the rows of seats; all of them looked worried.

“Why are none of you rehearsing?” Beethoven questioned. “It’s ten o’clock and there’s much to do. In fact, where is the rest of the choir?” He spotted an orange, crystal mare moving her mouth. But the giant said, “Wait! I can’t hear you,” as he pulled out the scroll and unrolled it.

“I said,” The mare repeated, “that the reason that some of us aren’t here is that of the news from this morning. In case you haven’t heard, Equestria is under attack, and Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor aren’t here. We’re up here without a leader while something was wrong with the sun not rising on time, which means something has likely happened to Princesses Celestia and Luna. So forgive us if some of us aren’t up to rehearsing when we don’t know if we might be in danger ourselves.”

“And your response is to do nothing?”

“You have a better idea?” Ludwig looked up to find Bow, the first violinist come flying up to him. “The situation is grim as it is. We don’t know what’s happening out there, why it’s happening, or if somepony is doing something about it. To top it all off, everypony in this city is now trapped in here until one of the Princesses come by to let us out.”

“You’re saying that is if dread is an excuse to be lazy,” Beethoven scolded them. “Last time I’ve checked, the sky is still in one piece, we’re still alive, and regardless of what is happening in Equestria, all of us still have a symphony to perform.”

At this moment, Octavia stood up, “How could you say that? Considering all the things that have happened in recent years like Nightmare Moon returning, the Changeling invasion, Discord, or even King Sombra here in the Empire, how do we know if there will be an Equestria to return to? Our homes are probably getting demolished as we speak, and we can’t go anywhere until the shield is lifted.”

“Hopelessness is not an excuse to stop creating art,” Ludwig told them as he headed towards the stage. “If anything, now would be the perfect time to rehearse.”

“What?” objected everypony in the entire theater.

Beethoven stopped as he saw what was on the scroll in his hand before he turned around, “This is precisely why I wrote the Ninth Symphony. Playing each of the four movements is an act of defiance against everything the rest of you are feeling right now. Hope against hopelessness, courage against fear, order against chaos, joyful love against depressing hatred, that is what this symphony is all about! If none of you don’t believe what I’ve just said then you know where the doors are! The rest of us are going to change the world, give light to the darkness through the music I’ve written.” With that, the giant went over to sit in his chair, putting his pair of headphones on.

Musicians in the opera house looked at one another, and then, one by one, the orchestra flipped open their cases and assembled on stage. After tuning their instruments, they looked over to the giant, “Now,” he said, “Let’s begin with the first movement, start softly but mysterious with the second violins, horns, and cellos. First violins, be as light as air but keep the same tone, same with the clarinets. Oboes, flutes, and bassoons, your job is to build up the crescendo with the timpani. Now, let’s run this through.”

_*_

Fortunately, the shield was taken down later that day when news came that Twilight had settled the threat. By the time that Beethoven, along with the rest of the Philharmonic and choirs were heading back to Equestria, they’ve learned what was going on. From what they could gather, a manipulative creature called Tirek had come very close to destroying the land by draining the magic from everypony. Even, it is said, from the spirit of Chaos himself that the creature had tricked into this devious scheme. In the end, Princess Twilight along with her friends did manage to subdue the threat after a great battle.

What those reports didn’t tell them, was the damage that was left behind. As they headed southwards, through passing towns and villages, they could see in the eyes of ponies that they were shaken. Although there was a relief, there was a worry in the faces that the train rushed past.

On the way to Canterlot, Ludwig saw more signs of the battle through the windows. At first, he saw only a couple of scorch marks on the trees and farmlands. However, as they drew closer to the capital, he began to see that buildings that were standing mere weeks ago had been knocked over; craters that began small became larger as they drew near the mountain. He was even stunned as he saw another mountain that had a huge hole punched through it.

By the time the train pulled up to the capital, the first thing the Philharmonic did as they left was to go straight towards their homes to see if they were intact. However, as the composer stepped out, he was greeted by Princess Twilight and her dragon assistant.

As they waved, Ludwig took out the magic scroll, “Princess Twilight,” he said, “Rumor has it that you’ve defeated a demon while I was away.”

Both of them exchanged an uneasy look, “Uh… Yes, that is true,” Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Equestria is safe again, but…”

The giant looked up from his scroll, “Is something wrong?”

Twilight took in a deep breath as if she was bracing herself for something, “Mr. Beethoven, I have some good news and bad news that I think you should know.”

“Can you please promise that you won’t freak out when we tell you,” Spike added.

This got Ludwig curious, “Why? What happened?”

“I guess I should tell you the bad news first,” Twilight began. “You see, the bad news is that during with my fight with Tirek, obviously, some things have gotten damaged. And… I’m sorry to tell you this, but do you remember when you entrusted me to have your manuscript for your Tenth Symphony to be kept in a vault in my library’s basement?”

Beethoven looked down at her, his eyes narrowed, “And you are telling this because…?”

“My library was destroyed,” Twilight said at last. When Ludwig read that, his heart sank as she continued. “I’ve revisited the library after the battle, and I found that the vault that kept your newest symphony was blown open. The manuscript didn’t survive.”

The scroll that Beethoven was holding dropped onto the platform, “What.” His voice became low as he stepped forward, and his face twisted into rage, “Are you telling me that the very thing that would guarantee my way home has been turned to ashes!”

Spike quickly picked up the scroll and held it up high, “Wait! Before you get angry, just hear us out! There is some really good news too!”

Beethoven folded his arms, “What news could you possibly have to distract me the fact that my work has been demolished by a demon?”

“We’ve already photographed the entire thing,” Twilight continued. “Right after you left to the Crystal Empire, I’ve taken the liberty to send hundreds of photographs to our publisher that transcribes all of your symphonies. They have a copy of all the previous movements you’ve made and, last time I’ve heard from them, they have some questions regarding some of the notes you’ve written for clarification. So really, your tenth is safe. All they need is your last movement.”

“Then why haven’t you told me that first!”

“The point is your music is still safe,” Twilight pointed out. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. So take a moment to calm down before I say anything.” It took a good a few minutes, but after Ludwig’s temper cooled, he was ready to listen. “Mr. Beethoven, since I’ve already known about your next symphony, and you’ve already told me what it’s about, I speak on behalf of my country that we need this music now more than ever. The ponies of Equestria need to hear this symphony. After all, many are still feeling the shock of what has happened, and you have something that would heal all of us. I’ll do whatever it is you require so that as many ponies from all over the country can hear your message of hope because that’s what many of us demands right now.”

Beethoven thought for a moment. Yes, there is truth in what this lilac princess is saying. After all, he saw it in the faces of the orchestra during rehearsal on the day of the battle. He even saw it on everyone else’s as the train trudged its way down. This poison of fear was widespread, and these ponies needed an antidote to it. While it was true that he has it, Beethoven knew that performing it in just one concert hall would not be enough.

Just then, he spotted Svengallop stepping onto the platform along with his client and their entourage of crewponies. With a sigh, Ludwig walked up to them and said, “Herr Svengallop, for the sake of this country, I have changed my mind about your offer. The symphony must be put on the radio.”

Author's Note

Two things: Firstly, Happy Birthday Herr Beethoven!

And second, I cannot tell you how excited I am for the next chapter! At long last, I get to my personal favorite piece of music of all time. The Great Ninth is coming soon! :pinkiehappy: :rainbowdetermined2: :raritystarry: :pinkiecrazy:

Chapter 57: The Great Healing Symphony in B Major.

Three weeks later, after hours of rehearsals; arguments with Svengallop; and trying to find the right theater to house the enormous choir, orchestra, audience, radio equipment and the machine for Ludwig’s hearing – they were now ready. The place to perform the Ninth Symphony wasn’t a theater at all. It was taken place in an enormous chamber that once was part of a mine inside Mt. Avalon. The location was carefully chosen because it provided the perfect acoustics for all the web of microphones to pick up.

The chamber was actually hollowed out further for this particular event to house the audience that came to hear the symphony in person. Ponies who could afford to come from all over Equestria to be crammed inside the well-lit cavern. Among those in the audience, as Beethoven saw from the conductor stand, were his neighbors, Braeburn Apple, the entirety of Twilight’s friends and their families and at the very front was the entire Royal Family. Four alicorns Princesses and two unicorn Princes sat there for the event.

Between him and the audience was the crew of a local radio station that ran wires and monitored strange machines. When the time came, a smartly dressed stallion stepped up to the microphone. Ludwig put a hand on his headphones when he started speaking, “Mares and gentlecolts, may I have your attention please?” The audience went quiet before the gray unicorn went on, “Thank you. Since it’s almost time, I want to give all of you some instructions before we go live. The first is that I ask everypony to please remain silent in between the movements so those at home can hear. If you feel that you must get out from your seat to leave, please do so as quietly as possible. We ask you to try to not to talk during the performance. Thank you.”

The stallion turned to the radio crew, “Are we ready?”

“In a minute,” somepony said. Ludwig turned around to face the orchestra, with a baton in hand; he waited for the red lightbulb to light up, a signal for him to begin.

“And we’re on if seven, six, five, four…”

The enter cavern went quiet for a moment until the stallion by the microphone spoke. “Hello and thank you for tuning in to Equestria National Radio 100.7 for our very special program. I’m Air Wave, and tonight we are bringing to you folks at home the premiere of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony for choir and orchestra. We are coming to you live inside of a cavern of Mt. Avalon with an equally live audience, among which is the entire Royal family, all here for this historic occasion.

“Before we hear this new symphony, those of you at home should know that this is perhaps the most ambitious radio broadcast to date because we have assembled a system for those of you at home can hear the Canterlot Philharmonic, the Canterlot Opera Company and the Crystal Clear Choir at the highest quality possible. You will be hearing the combined choir in the closing movement, along with a quartet of four singers: the Countess Coloratura as Soprano, Silver Note as Alto, Copper Bell as Tenor and Nota Lunga for baritone. The song at the end will be sung in the composer’s native language called German. I will provide the translation before the closing movement. The composer, Ludwig van Beethoven will be conducting the orchestra this evening.

“So without further ado, we are proud to announce the premiere of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth, the Choral Symphony.”

Once the applause from the audience died down, there was a moment of silence before the signal for Ludwig to begin lit up. Hunching his back forward, he lifted the baton, the cue for the orchestra to play. At first, only the horns, violins and cellos murmured softly while the second violins gave pulses of sound. Clarinets, oboes, and flutes came in as if they were tuning up, but as it grew louder, the sound became increasingly tense until, with the timpani, the orchestra shook at the enormous crescendo.

It was as if a god had woken up from an eternal sleep. An ancient, yet, powerful being rose with fearful trumpets and the echo of thunder from the drums. Among the terrible sounds of its awakening, the universe stood still as the orchestra repeated the opening – as if the divine being was looking for something through the void. When it did find it at the crescendo, the god stretched forth to bring about a storm of lightning, thunder, and the descending whirlwind of the strings.

But after a moment of this violence, the winds brought about a different character. This one seemed to be a good deal kinder than the mighty deity that had stormed through. The melody of the winds floated in the air gracefully like a Pegasus ballerina, wings fearlessly cutting through the storm with no fear. Soon, the innocent melody went up to the raging god in the midst of its temper tantrum, asking gently what was wrong. But the god only barked incoherently, even when the Pegasus tried asking again, the deity’s voice repeated the same answer. Getting nowhere, the Pegasus of song followed the god to see where and what it might do like the two rhythms mixed together for a moment.

Over on the air, radio waves cascaded beyond Canterlot. Zipping through forests and slithered across deserts and seas, ponies that happened to be tuned in turned up the volume to hear the symphony. For some, it was background music for those who were trying to rebuild after Tirek. For others who had nothing better to do, or whose feelings were caught up in a cycle of helplessness, they were paying attention. As strings and winds rose and fell like the flapping of wings, so the music traveled beyond Equestria to those who have never heard such an immersive piece of art.

In countries where the name of the composer was only a rumor, their ears perked up at what they found from turning the dials on their radios. Out from the speakers, a curious story without words was being played out in bedrooms, living rooms, waiting rooms, train stations, and a hoofful of restaurants. Yes, curiosity was the word for those who tuned in, for they could tell it was classical music; only to them, it seemed to have come alive from the grand strings to the meditative winds.

Back in Canterlot, Ludwig hunched over at the quiet parts, trying to listen as intently as he could from the headphones. For the equine audience watching him conduct, to watch his arms move and fold about was as if the giant was impersonating a Pegasus in flight. It probably would make sense as those who were closely listening to this first movement heard new, ever-changing landscapes. From cloud forests to deserts of fire, to mountainous cities of strings to seas of brass, violins, and timpani, it was as if Beethoven was sculpting a fantasy world with nothing more than sound.

In this first movement alone, all known rules of musical gravity, logic, and physics were being twisted, bend, and made up as it went. Unstoppable like a coming storm, and its mood-changing at a moment’s notice, Beethoven was taking everypony inside the cavern and beyond into the world inside his head. Chaotic in its crescendos and beautiful in its melodies, they were all at the mercy of the old man to dictate musical reality as he sees fit.

Minutes later, near the end, the orchestra took on a kind of march where the horns pounded out a rhythm and the oboes danced to the march while the strings provided the wind to stir the orchestra up. Then together, like the hoofsteps of a giant, the entire philharmonic stomped out the remaining few bars to bring the movement to an end.

Ludwig noticed that as the red light next to him went out, his headphones picked up a rumbling sound. He glanced behind him to find that his audience applauding, stomping on the ground, clapping their hooves. To this, he smiled before facing the orchestra that was flipping their sheet music to the next movement.

When the light came on, the entire string section began the second movement with a battle cry. The Scherzo started with a rush as violins charging forward; clarinets, trombones, horns, oboes, and trumpets too sped into the imaginary battlefield. Violas and cellos added tension to the rapid heartbeat pacing, to which the whole Philharmonic army was now at full force. The sound both inside the cavern and on the radio grew increasingly louder until the orchestra attacked in full force.

Even when it was immediately followed by the winds to slow things down, the pizzicato of the strings still kept the movement ever forward. Then just as suddenly, the strings pulsed out sharp attacks while the winds tumbled up and hopped down the scales. This Philharmonic civil war frequently changed moods from tranquil one moment to horrifically violent the next before it flipped back again. And just when the audience thought that they knew what was going to happen next, it surprised them when suddenly the orchestra went silent before it repeated the beginning.

For one Princess, the music brought her back to what happened weeks ago –especially with Tirek and the awesome power that she was responsible for holding. What had occurred was still fresh in her mind. Twilight felt the cold fear of losing, the hot hatred of what the demon had done to her home. She felt the bruises as she was being thrown about, and the electric discharge of her horn that unleashed intense magic at the creature all being reflected as the music clashed against itself.

In fact, for Equestrians, this second movement hit home a little too closely, especially for those who were in Ponyville at the time. They too haven’t forgotten the scars that were left behind, both on their town and them as well. For those who were hearing the music, it brought them back to the paralyzing fear of what would happen to them.

For those who listened to the Scherzo on their radios, especially inside of Equestria, all they could remember is when they tried to flee from the demon that drained their magic until they were almost lifeless husks of themselves. This music was dark, but there was something about it that made them want to keep listening.

Then suddenly, from their speakers, the mood changed to something light and stable. Oboes sang a folk dance while the bassoons hopped from note to quick paced note. Even from the cellos, double basses and violins, they too had set aside their bloodlust to something lighthearted. Horns spoke of nostalgia for a bygone, golden age while the violins danced above them, the violas joining them. The winds did the same as if the orchestra was now under a truce. For a moment, they found unity in a dancing folk tune and peace from a simple nostalgia.

As sweet as it was, it didn’t last long before the civil war started back up again. Just as the beginning, the strings, and the winds engaged in bipolar warfare. For several minutes, it repeated the unpredictable fight that seemed to have no end. However, at the last minute, the dancing folksong returns for just a moment before the orchestra brought it and the movement to a speedy, climatic end.

After the applause had died out, Ludwig picked up from his headphones the voice of Air Wave. “For those who are just tuning in, you are now listening to the live premiere of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. What you’ve heard was the second movement and we are about to head right on into the third. After that, I will come back on to give this live audience and those at home a short introduction to the final movement. This is Air Wave on Equestria National Radio 100.7, and thank you for joining us.”

There was a still moment before Ludwig saw the red light that allowed him to continue on into the Adagio. Pressing a hand over one of the speakers, he tried to count time as the bassoons, clarinets, violas, and cellos began to paint a new landscape. He watched for the bows of the violins to join in to create the feeling of the aftermath from the previous movement. The strings, winds, and horns started up a dialogue of an unstable peace and an uncertain future. Both sides trying to come to terms of the emptiness that the battle had left behind, yet, at the same time in the slow-moving notes, they try to salvage whatever hope remained.

On the airwaves, the meditative adagio served as a kind of reflection. From the violins, a simple melody spread its wings like a single bird and took flight. For those villages and towns in Equestria, that soaring melody was like a young phoenix in their minds. They looked around at the destruction that Tirek had left behind, of the rubble to see that perhaps, with plenty of hard work and commitment, they could build again – because from those speakers, that melody which the entire orchestra now enriches and develops, it was the very symbol of hope.

The music didn’t sugarcoat the fact that moving on will be easy. Healing is played at a slow tempo, where there will be times where trying to overcome is difficult, it will be the most rewarding to those who persist. Even for those who listened, who were themselves were going through the darkest of times; the music they heard was a candle that illuminated their lives.

In Ludwig’s mind, as he was hunched over conducting, this music he had written not too long ago had now transformed into something other than he intended. What was meant as a scene depiction of summer in the Vienna Woods was now a symbol of hope. After all, he already had chosen the melodies, time changes and what spirit last movement of his tenth to be, what needed to be done was to refine it. He could finally go home and hopefully rescue his nephew from suicide. Perhaps, even make amends to those he offended when he left. As much as he appreciated being in this new world of fantasy, he missed Vienna with all its people, food, and friends. What a story he would tell too, even if, upon reflection, that his time in Equestria would be forever seen as ravings of a madman.

‘Should I tell them where I have been this whole time?’ he wondered. ‘If I never set eyes on this land, and someone else had told me about Equestria, I would call the authorities to commit him into a hospital. Who would ever believe that I had my music being played by an orchestra of ponies? No one! It all seems like a fairy tale in hindsight, but what a tale it is! If I had more time, I would probably write a grand fantasia of all the wonders that I have seen. If only death wasn’t as close as those doctors had told me months ago.’

Minutes later, the third movement came to an end. After kind applause from the live audience, the choir that has been sitting down this whole time finally stood up, flipping open their scores for what was about to come. The radio announcer now took this opportunity to take the microphone.

“This is Air Wave, and you are listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony on Equestria National Radio 100.7. Now before we get to the final movement of this wonderful music, I would like to take a moment to inform those at home of what they are about to hear. For the first time in history, we will be hearing a choir being sung in a symphony. But this will be unusual because the language they will be singing it is in the composer’s native tongue of German. Fortunately for us, Beethoven has given out a translation of the lyrics in Equestrian, to give you all a good idea what they are singing about.

“The translation is, as follows,” he pulled out a sheet of paper in front of him. “‘Oh friends, not these tones! Rather, let us raise our voices in more pleasing and more joyful sounds. Joy! Joy, beautiful spark of the gods, daughter of Elysium, we enter, drunk with fire, into your sanctuary, heavenly daughter! Your magic reunites what custom strictly divided; all men become brothers, where your wings gently rest.

“‘Whoever has had the great fortune to be a friend’s friend, whoever has won a devoted wife, join in our jubilation! Indeed, whoever can call even one soul, his own on this earth! And whoever was never able to, must creep tearfully away from this band!

“‘Joy all creatures drink at the breasts of nature; all good, all bad follow her trail of roses. Kisses she gave us, and wine, a friend, proved in death; pleasure was given to the worm, and the cherub stands before God.

“‘Glad, as his suns fly through Heaven’s glorious design, run, brothers, your path, joyful as a hero to victory.

“‘Be embraced Millions! This kiss for the whole world! Brothers, above the starry canopy, must a loving Father dwell. Do you bow down, millions? Do you sense the Creator, world? Seek Him beyond the starry canopy! Beyond the stars must He dwell.’ I know that is quite a lot to take in, but trust me when I say, give yourself a moment to let the music explain for itself.

“And now, with the help of the Canterlot Opera Company, the Crystal Clear Choir, and our solo singers include: the Countess Coloratura as Soprano, Silver Note as Alto, Copper Bell as Tenor and Nota Lunga for baritone – the Equestria National Radio is proud to present the final movement of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. I’m Air Wave, and thank you for tuning in.”

On the air, the stereos became quiet, but then a moment later, their speakers shook from the combined brass, wind and timpani as the final movement opened. Cellos and double basses quickly followed with a serious tone. At first, for everyone listening, the first few seconds was probably the darkest music they’ve heard. That was, until in utter confusion, the theme from the first movement was repeated briefly as chords of winds and brass were suspended while the strings paused.

However, just as it started, the serious lower strings repeated the grim theme before the winds repeated the music of the second movement. Yet, even this too died out, as if the string instruments themselves disagreed on playing it again. And just to make things even more confusing, the familiar truce theme from the third movement came back, only for those lower strings to call it off. Everypony at this point was thinking of the same thing, ‘What is Beethoven up to?’ This beginning was so odd that many wondered if this had any direction at all when the winds now take on a new, yet, simplistic theme. It was as if between the strings and the winds with the brass were arguing, trying to settle down on what to do next.

But then, there was a small moment of silence. From the double basses and cellos, it started softly, almost like a whisper. Throughout the world, many turned up the volume to see if anything was playing at all. As it turned out, there was. From those low notes, a very, very simple song emerged. It sounded like a tune that a foal would hum, and therefore, doesn’t seem that remarkable until the violas and bassoons came. When it did, this innocent little tune slowly became richer with every passing bar.

In Equestria, those who were listening heard the very song of solidarity. No. Not just that, it was as if whatever hopes that were crushed, dreams that were shattered, personal freedoms that were suppressed, confidence that was silenced, all of that was given a voice again like a longtime friend. When the violins came, those who were hurt by the demon weeks before now felt rejuvenated.

Inside the well-lit cavern, the entire orchestra was now in on the triumph of misery. That simple tune at the start has become unstoppable. Royals and comers alike could sense their pride in both their country and Equinity was resurrecting itself from despair. For those few minutes, it seemed like nothing, not below the earth or in the stars above that could change it.

The orchestra slowed down a little bit, but just before the audience could take a mental breath, the terrible theme from the beginning reared its ugly head. Just then, out of the chaos, a low voice declared, “O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!” When the strings returned, they appeared to be hesitant, “Sondern laßt uns angenehmere an stimmen,” the orchestra played a few chords as if asking if this was it, “und freudenvollere.”

Now made clear, the orchestra started playing the foal’s theme. “Freude!” the baritone said as the male part of the choir repeated the word. “Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum! Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.”

Both choirs from the male side repeated the last few lines from the baritone with the orchestra now making them sound massive as if they had quadrupled in size. Yet among the grandeur of the instruments, a quartet of singers was heard, their voices precisely weaved in the tapestry of the symphony.

“Wem der große Wurf gelungen, Eines Freundes Freund zu sein; Wer ein holdes Weib errungen, Mische seinen Jubel ein! Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund! Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!”

This time the mares from both choirs repeated with vigor. It was as if the heavens themselves had yielded to give this fantastic melody a universe of beauty to have it echo off the walls of the cavern. The orchestra quickly adapted and developed the child’s theme.

Then the quartet of singers sang in operatic rigor: “Freude trinken alle Wesen An den Brüsten der Natur; Alle Guten, alle Bösen Folgen ihrer Rosenspur. Küsse gab sie uns und Reben, Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod; Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben, Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.”

From the choir, it echoed beautifully like an army of angels announcing to the universe the arrival of their creator with the earthly orchestra accompanying it. But then, there was a pause as if everything was holding their breath before the lowest notes of the horns and drums produced a pulse. It started slowly at first, but it soon became the beat of a march with the winds and brass playing together. This march was humble but triumphant.

Then came the voice of the creator, with a tenor voice that had the skill of a lark. “Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan, Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn, Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen. Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,” with a long-held note, the male choir came in to complete the repeated lyric with as much confidence and victorious spirit.

It was then for the orchestra’s turn while the whole choir rested, playing out a cadenza of complex melodies that nearly made its listeners dizzy from the passionate music. The horns made it sound like a festive dance that has gone out of control with its spinning violins. With the music become faster, wilder, and yet somehow all in control at the same time, nopony could guess where this movement was going.

But then, the tempo slowed down until all the instruments were reduced to the rhythm of a heartbeat. It was reduced further to a pair of horns, carrying out the pulse as if time stood still. A moment later, the whole orchestra returned along with the entire choir to applebuck open the doors to a universe of indescribable beauty. In that climactic crescendo, joy becomes tangible, the world they know doesn’t exist, time becomes timeless, the whole universe sang with one voice.

“Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum! Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt. Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.”

Just as it starts, the vision ends, horns and the lower strings moved on with the male choir sing in one voice: “Seid umschlungen, Millionen! Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!” While it wasn’t pretty at first, the rest of the choir and orchestra turned it into something deeper as they repeated the lyric. It switched back to the male choir with their horns and cellos as they sang: “Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.” From it, especially for one Night Princess, the music painted out a clear, starry night when the sun had just set. Voices and instruments in total harmony and counterpoint that moved slowly like the moon that Luna moves every evening.

But out of it, a great fugue emerged. Mare’s voices shot down from the heavens like falling stars. With the other voices combined, the melody rained down brilliant, golden light into the imaginations of its listeners. Yet, even in this master of counterpoint, the ever-present feeling of joy was still recognizable.

Then unexpectedly, the choir, along with the strings, bassoons, and oboes tap out the same tune in a slower tempo. “Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt? Such' ihn über'm Sternenzelt!” The voices swelled up, gaining in volume until it became smooth, “Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen. Über Sternen muß er wohnen.”

An ecstasy of violins and violas hopped and leaped like the opening of a dance when the quartet of singers began. “Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium,” though his headphones, Ludwig can pick up the Countess’s voice as she sang with the others. “Deine Zauber binden wieder,” if anything, the old man was rather impressed that she can manage to find the perfect balance of her vibrato and allowing the others to shine as well. “Was die Mode streng geteilt,” Even when the emerging of the choir, their voices are still powerful enough to project through the building crescendo. “Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.”

The choir repeated the same, upbeat rhythm that was dripping with joy, “Deine Zauber binden wieder, Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen,” but just then, the choir died down as the soloists took over.

“Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.” From this quartet, a vision of heaven was illustrated with nothing more than their harmonized voices. Like the foal’s song, it was simple in its cords, but divine in its simplicity as their voices rise and fall with the perfect balance from one another.

Just as Ludwig was about to conduct the last few bars, he could have sworn that there was a strong scent of peppermint before the strings lead the final dance of the night. This time, the entire orchestra was giving everything it’s got to display its firework like finale, and the choir now sang with a passion! “Seid umschlungen, Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt! Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen. Seid umschlungen, Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt! Freude, schöner Götterfunken!”

‘And to think,’ thought Ludwig, ‘that the whole world is hearing this.’

“Tochter aus Elysium. Welt! Freude, schöner Götterfunken!” from the Philharmonic orchestra, everypony was now racing through the final bars. Bows went flying along strings, brasses were trying to keep up the rhythm, winds were being pushed to their limits, and the percussionist was drumming out louder than ever before. Of course, they were all exhausted, but now they were so close that they consecrated every last amount of energy they had into the music. Nevertheless, the great symphony had ended with a bang.

Almost immediately, Beethoven picked up on his headphones the roar of the audience, and he could imagine that the entire world was doing the same. He turned around to see that everypony stood up, some were stomping on their hooves while others were waving hats, forelegs, and their playbills. Even the radio crew was doing the same as they clapped their hooves. The Royal family too applauded, even Blueblood (reluctantly).

As Ludwig bowed low, roses came into his sight; he looked back up to find that the audience was tossing the red flowers at his feet. But as he glanced back at his audience, he noticed a strange shadow in the very back. This shadow wasn’t the one that kidnapped him, but this one he saw was rather odd. It was very tall, lanky, had a claw on one hand and a paw in the other. The head was like the shape of a goat, only the two horns it had, one was that of a stag and the other, that of a dragon. Before he saw it leave, this shadow produced a bouquet and placed it behind the very back row of the audience.

By the time the crowd had calmed down, the radio host noticed that Celestia was walking towards the microphone, “And now,” said Air Wave, “we shall have the privilege to have Princess Celestia say a few words,” before he stepped aside from the microphone.

“Thank you Air Wave,” she nodded as she stepped up. “Fellow subjects of Equestria and those from afar, I used to think that Mr. Beethoven’s Third Symphony was the best piece of music ever written. Tonight, however, I may have to recant that statement to say that this is the greatest work of art that I have ever heard. I want to take this moment to thank Ludwig van Beethoven for sharing something that has helped us heal as a nation.” Her horn lit up, and underneath her wing, a golden medallion with a scarlet silk ribbon floated over to the giant. “Mr. Beethoven, although you are not an official Equestrian citizen, I would like to award you our highest honor on behalf of the Royal family and the ponies of Equestria. For going above and beyond in the arts, and helping us recover from a national disaster, I award you the Mustang Heart.” She placed the medal over his head, “Thank you, Mr. Beethoven.”

Clenching the medal around his neck, the composer bowed once more.

While this was indeed a huge honor, Ludwig still has one last thing to do in Equestria before he returns home. One in which he has been looking forward since December. And since all four princesses were here, he might as well let them know when to have his Hearths Warming gift is given to him.

Chapter 58: One Last Time in F # Major.

About a month later, when the warmth of summer was just starting to settle in, Ludwig was on the train to Canterlot. On his lap, the final page to his tenth symphony laid open. He nodded in approval as he reviewed the ending. Just as it opened with a cello solo, it would end with it. After a frantic month of scratching and revising some passages in his closing movement, the solo was only a note away from being finished.

If anything, Beethoven was rather proud of himself, he managed to finish his whole symphony the week before the shadow had promised to return him to Vienna. All he had to do was to write that one last note, but he didn’t feel that it was the right time to do so. After all, he had planned his farewell concert at the theater that his first and second symphony was performed in.

But on that morning, as the train neared Canterlot, on that very day in which the Philharmonic will perform his Fifth Piano Concerto as well as Horseshoepin’s piece, he felt impatient. This was because, if all went well, today he will finally get the miracle that he longed for.

As soon as he got off the train, he headed towards the palace; after walking through the cobbled streets and ducking beneath several arches, he walked through the gilded doors of the castle. After being shown to the throne room, he took out the magic scroll as he saw all four alicorns waiting for him.

“I have two questions,” Ludwig said, “are you sure this spell will work, and if so, how does it work?”

“I have gone through this spell several times,” Twilight told him, “and yes, I’ve even experimented a little. So the good news is that I, along with my fellow princesses know how to carry out the spell so there would be an incredibly high chance that it will work. The other being that for this to work, we need something that you constantly wear so it will be near you for a whole day. All you have to do is to put it on.”

“And it’s completely safe,” Luna added. “Though it would take a good deal of power from all of us, I do think that after that last concert you gave, it’s the least we could do.”

“We’ve been fully rested and used as little of our own magic for this,” Cadance said. “Just to be sure you have enough energy to last you for twenty-four hours.”

“Although,” Celestia stated, “Please keep in mind, Mr. Beethoven. Such a spell that uses up this much power has never been done before. In terms of magic, this is rather uncharted territory. If by chance that this doesn’t work-”

“Then I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ludwig interrupted as he looked up from the scroll. “I had plenty of my shares of quack doctors telling me that they can cure me. But being in a land where I’ve seen miracles every day, I do hope that you four would be able to pull it off. Now then…” Putting the scroll back in his coat pocket, he looked down at himself to see what they could use off of him. He spotted the red cravat around his neck, “Would this work?” he asked as he untied it and offered it to the alicorns.

Twilight’s magic took hold of the fabric and nodded. “Wait… right… there…” she slowly moved her lips to him as they took some distance from him to stand in a sort of a circle. Curious, Ludwig watched the procedure as his cravat floated in the air as Twilight’s aura, then Celestia’s, and then Luna’s and finally Candace took hold of the cloth. At the same time, they lowered their necks and closed their eyes as their horns glowed brightly. Then when they opened their eyes, all the giant could see was that they were shining as bright as the midday sun while their horns fired light at the piece of fabric. It got so bright that Ludwig had to look away as they cast the spell.

But as soon as they started, it was over. Beethoven looked up; he noticed that each of them seemed tired, almost as if they didn’t get to sleep for days as Twilight gingerly placed the cravat around his neck, “Well?” Beethoven asked, “Did it wor...” his questioned died off as soon as the fabric touched him. For the first time in eight, long, painful years, the ever-present ringing that went on day and night fell silent.

It was as if an enormous pressure that was building up in his head was finally gone. What happened? Did it work? Beethoven took a step back and immediately paused. He heard an echo of a footstep. Reaching into his pockets, he heard the rustle of paper. He even held his hand next to his ear and snapped it. He looked over at the princesses, “Say something,” he told them, “anything.”

Luna groaned, “I now really need some sleep.”

“Oh süßer Gott!” Ludwig gasped before turning to Cadance, “And you!”

“Uh… hi?” she gave a weary wave.

Beethoven turned to Celestia, “I assume that it is working?” she asked.

Only he turned to Twilight, “Mr. Beethoven, can you hear us?”

Ludwig covered his face, “O Gott im Himmel, es funktioniert!” he paused to take in a deep breath, “I can hear again.”

“Ludwig?” the Princess of Friendship asked, “Are you alright? Is this too much?”

With only a hand that covered his eyes, he shook his head, “No… I…” he laughed a little, “I didn’t expect that it would work at all!” Removing his hand, he whipped a few tears away. “I can’t believe that my hearing is back. No ringing or humming at all.” Ludwig immediately tied the cravat around his collar. “And you say that I have until tomorrow morning for this to wear off?”

Celestia nodded, “Indeed. After what you’ve done for our kingdom, it’s the least we could do.” She yawned, “Although, I do have one question to ask. What are you going to do now that you have your hearing back?”

“Apart of putting it into good use for the farewell concert tonight,” Ludwig said as he walked towards one of the stain glass windows. “I want to go to the forest that is just outside of this city. It’s been so long since I heard the wind in the trees or the music of the birds. So if none of your mind, I’m going to take a walk without the constant ringing in my ears.” Before he left the throne room, he turned to the princesses and asked, “Are any of you coming to the concert?”

Luna yawned, “I’m sure that we… all will. But for now, I need some needed sleep.”

“I think we all do,” Cadance agreed before smiling at the giant, “and before you go, I have to ask. Since you’re the one that’s going to be playing, do you know the piece you’ll be performing?”

Beethoven laughed, “I’ve always known how to play it.” He tapped the side of his head, “It’s still in here. So I won’t have to concern about practicing. Well then, it’s a beautiful day, and I want to take as much advantage of it as possible. Aude, Your Highnesses,” he nodded to them, “and thank you.”

_*_

He was close to the edge of the city, and all around him, the clopping of hooves, the idle chat and whispers of voices, the passing of carriages were everywhere. Ludwig couldn’t believe how much he actually missed hearing all of this. Nearly every second, his ears would pick up a new sound. A ‘ding’ here, a ‘thump’ there, a shout, a cry, a cough, a sneeze, or a flutter of wings, it was like a blind man seeing color for the first time. It never went to the point that it overwhelmed him if anything; he smiled at every little thing that was coming to his senses.

Then as he walked down one of the streets, his hears picked up on another sound that he missed. A piano. It was faint, but he could tell where it was coming from. At one of the houses, there was an open window in which the music floated out of. He crouched down a bit to get a better look at who it was playing, only to find that the pony was Horseshoepin, looking down at the keyboard.

“Herr Horseshoepin!” the giant shouted. Behind the glass, the stallion’s ears perked up, looking around the room. “At the window!” When the pianist saw who it was, he gave a puzzled look as he got up and went over to open the window further.

“Mr. Beethoven?” he tiled his head in confusion.

“That was very good playing,” Ludwig said, “Was that yours?”

“Well yeah, I’ve been practicing for the concert toni…” he trailed off. “Wait, how did you-”

“I heard it,” Beethoven laughed. “For the first time, I’ve heard it!” The stallion looked at him confused, “Your Princesses put a spell on my cravat, one in which would help me hear clearly until tomorrow morning. So for the time being, I have my hearing back.”

“Oh,” Horseshoepin blinked, “Well, congratulations, Mr. Beethoven! Only, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be practicing for the concert tonight?”

“And waste this gift on a beautiful day like this, are you mad?” Ludwig started moving, “Come walk with me.”

“What? Where?”

“In those woods outside of the city,” he paused as he looked over his shoulder, “Are you coming or not?”

“I… Just a minute,” the Pianist closed his window and sometime later, stepped outside of his home. “I might as well; you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Fair enough,” said the giant, “it would be like the old days when I used to talk to my friends face to face without that annoying ringing in my ears. And since you are a composer yourself, at least I have someone worthy to talk to.”

“Sure,” he trotted up to the old man’s side, “What do you have in mind?”

_*_

“Do you hear that?”

Horseshoepin’s ears waved around on his head, “What? Do you mean the birds?”

“Yes,” Ludwig nodded. By now, they were taking a rest by a boulder that was on the side of the dirt trail they’ve been walking on. It was in the perfect spot too, being in the cool shade of the hot sun with its rich greens overhead. All around them, the forest stretched out as far as they could see, with wild bushes nearly everywhere. “They’re much more disorganized than I last remember,” Beethoven commented, chuckling to himself. “It’s rather amusing of all the tiny things that I have forgotten about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… like the sound when your boots are on the ground. Or when you kick a rock and it bounces off a tree. Even the buzzing of insects, I’m referring to all the little sounds that you might overlook. If I had more time with my restored hearing, why, I could probably write a concerto, all inspired by these sounds alone! It’s rather incredible of all the things that I’ve… taken for granted before my hearing left me. Things that I didn’t think about are now coming to me here.”

Horseshoepin looked around, taking in what Ludwig had said. Perhaps for the first time, he was paying attention to the background sounds of the world. At the gentle rustle in the tree branches, the humming of bees, the distant whistle of the train, and the quiet of the forest, “You know,” he said at last, “I’ve never about thought it like that. I mean, what I find amazing is that you just got your hearing back, and the first thing you wanted to do is to come out here.”

“Why not?” Ludwig asked, almost offended. “If you were unable to hear for years and was just now restored, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did the same! After years of hearing constant noise, the only thing I wanted is for that blasted ringing to be still. Would it hurt to hear nothing but the quiet of nature?”

“No sir,” the stallion shook his head. “Though, this idea of hearing music from these woods… It’s an odd concept to me.”

“It is a philosophy that I have taken to heart after I read Shakespeare. I’ve long forgotten what play it was from, but the quote will go with me, even after I die.”

“And that being?”

“He wrote once: ‘The Earth has music for those who listen.’” The old man sighed, “And centuries after he wrote that, he is perhaps more right than ever before. Just, listen to that.”

Horseshoepin did so, his ears were now opened to the slow tempo of the forest.

Chapter 59: The Farewell Concert in B b minor.

Even before the concert started, the tickets have already long sold out. The theater in which Beethoven premiered his first two symphonies and his string quartets were packed up to the rafters. Despite the idle complaints of how crowded it all was, (and more than a few protests from some fireponies) everypony waited for the big event near the second half of the program. After all, it was the main reason for coming there.

Up in the balconies, all four Princesses plus a prince, a baby dragon, Ludwig’s neighbors and landlady, Rarity and her sister, the Apple family plus their cousins, and Countess Coloratura were all there for the same reason as the audience. That being, this will be the first time that they get to hear the giant perform, but it will also be his last public appearance in Equestria. After all that he’s done for nearly a year, it didn’t feel right to miss out on a concert from someone that had completely changed the way they listened to music.

In the wings, Ludwig sat there waiting. At the moment, Horseshoepin was playing a movement from his concerto – the one that the old man had suggested months ago. He was still amazed how clearly he was able to hear everything as the violins began their Largo for a minute. The sound was pure and clear, the high notes didn’t fade and the soft moments weren’t muffled. It sounded like waves upon the shores of a lake, easily flowing in and out. Then, when Horseshoepin started to play, the only thing that came to mind was something like a lost love song.

‘At least this world is in good hands, or rather, hooves,’ Beethoven thought. ‘In hindsight, it is amusing to think that after spending about a year in this place that I have changed so much. Giving the works of the masters’ new life, the young are interested in my music, and there’s already a few out there that can contribute something good in this world like him and that little unicorn filly. Still, I wonder what will become of this world and my music after I return home. Where will music go after my departure?’

While he ponders this, he listens to the piano creating poetry with the orchestra. It would seem at times that the slow piano almost sounded like something like a cocky teenager trying to woo someone, by taking risky notes and dramatic acoustics. At the same time, it would seem to Beethoven that this pony knew what he was doing. During the performance, the descending keys perfectly intimidated falling snow; at other times, he would hear the laughter of the couple, walking closely in the cold. From the orchestra, every so often it would sigh lovingly, in which the love-struck strings would do so perfectly.

Ludwig crossed his legs, ‘I’ll give him this,’ he thought, ‘At least he knows how to create the right atmosphere; with grace and the right amount of passion. It’s rather depressing to think that perhaps my world doesn’t have a pianist like him, or even if there was, I’m rather angry that I’ve never heard of him.’ The old man listened to the love scene that unfolded, as he did so, he thought, ‘It’s not bad, though my concerto is better.’

As the dreamlike ballad continued on with the imaginary couple slipping and joking in this tranquil picture, Beethoven let his thoughts run free. ‘I wonder what the other composers here in Equestria will do after I’m gone? Though I’m sure someone like Herr Horseshoepin would do just nicely here, what about everyone else? What sort of music will they have to come up with once they’ve performed the Tenth? Surely they can’t go back to how music was, because I’ve already perfected what Herr Bach and Mozart tried to do. What influence will I have on this world’s composers in ten, twenty, fifty years from now?’

While Beethoven pondered this, onstage, Octavia was also in deep thought. As her bow gracefully slid across the strings of her cello, she came to a realization. This is the last week that Mr. Beethoven will be in Equestria, and they still haven’t seen the score of his next symphony. Up until then, Ludwig had been present at their rehearsals to clarify some confusing passages, but what will they do when the giant is gone for good? ‘We’re all going to miss him in one way or another,’ she thought. ‘After all, he’s the only composer that Vinyl ever liked. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the best… person (I think that’s the right word) to be around. But there’s no denying the impact he’s made. At least we still have his music.’

Minutes later, Horseshoepin received a round of applause after he played the final, dreamlike notes on the piano. After taking a bow, he announces, “And now, Fillies and Gentlecolts, for our final piece for tonight, the next pianist may not need an introduction, but he is here by the most remarkable of circumstances. For tonight, it will be the first time in years that he has performed since the loss of his hearing, yet, here he is with his hearing temporary brought back, and he will be playing for you his Fifth Piano Concerto in E-Flat Major. So here he is, performing for the last time, Mr. Ludwig van Beethoven everypony!”

There was a roar before Ludwig walked onto the stage and bowed. He headed towards the open piano and took a seat before he looked over to Sea Sharp to start the concerto. The unicorn mare gave a nod as she raised the baton, cueing the orchestra to raise their bows to ready themselves. From the strings, horns, and percussion, a brilliant cord like the first rays of the sun burst forth before Ludwig scaled up the keys with a grand beginning of his own. It is true that he hadn’t played this in years, yet he still remembered each and every note of it.

Besides, Beethoven liked the sound of this grand entrance. It was young, strong, confident and energetic. And he’s grateful for the fact that no matter how hard he hit the keys, it showed no signs of breaking. In a way, with his hearing back, he felt young to be doing this again – almost as if he was transported back in time when he was best known as a brilliant, if not short tempered pianist. For once, he was in total control and harmony between himself and the instrument.

Even with the orchestra replaying with their modern instruments, the range of brilliant colors flowed out in these jubilant sounds of a morning festival. Clarinets and strings played childish games in the royal dawn, as violins and violas proceeded with an elaborate ceremony of sunlight. In the audience, it reminded Celestia of the Summer Sun Festival in which she would show off to the world her ability to raise the sun above the horizon. This young, vibrant energy sure captured the pomp and enthusiasm of the event itself!

A few minutes later, the real star of the show, the Imperial Piano returned with a crown of trills upon its head, a scarlet robe of ascending harmonics and the voice of fortissimo. Ludwig’s fingers remembered the elegance and power that it possessed to show the world. In this music, and with this piano, he the pianist was the Emperor which the whole world was at the ferocity and mercy of his skill. At one moment, he oversaw the army of brass that praised his name, then in the next, he daydreams of his romantic youth with the accompanying cello. But this doesn’t last long as the Philharmonic interrupted his moment of peace with shouts of honor, and he returned the same gesture with taste.

Up in the box seats, Applebloom leaned over to her cousin, “It almost sounds like there’re two orchestras goin’, doesn’t it?”

Braeburn nodded, “Yeah, it really does. Maybe that’s because he has those… claw thingies that’s makin’ it sound like that.” He looked over at the stage, “Ya know, it’ll be sad ta have him go.”

“Will ya ever pick up yer fiddle again?”

The cowpony shrugged, “Don’t know, but Ah’ve been thinkin’ about it though. Ah mean, ponies in Appaloosa have been askin’ about it, even a couple askin’ if Ah could teach them too. But it’s only a hobby though.”

“But yer real good at it,” the young Apple told him. “Even if ya don’t wanna record again, at least start teachin’ ponies how ta play it. If Ah lived closer to ya, perhaps you can teach me ta see if Ah have a cutie mark in fiddle playin’.”

Braeburn raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you already try that?”

Applejack shushed them before her younger sister could answer.

Up in another box, Rarity looked over to her little sister as she caught her writing something down in a notebook, “What are you doing?” she whispered to her.

Sweetie Belle held up her notebook that was scratched in with musical notes, “Putting down some ideas,” she simply replied. “I’m taking notes from this so it would give me some inspiration when I write music. There’s seemed to be plenty of it in the last few minutes.” She returned to her notebook, “Now shush, I’m trying to listen.”

“You’re not trying to copy him, are you?” the tailor inquired.

Her younger sister sighed, “No. I wanna do my own work, but I first want to hear how it’s done so that I could learn some of the tricks he uses. If I’m going to write songs, I might as well learn from the best.”

Rarity thought for a moment, tapping a hoof to her chin, “What about that pianist that just played a few minutes ago? You know he wrote that lovely bit, so when Mr. Beethoven leaves, maybe I could find a way for you to learn composition from him.”

“You would do that?”

She nodded, “Why not? I think that it would be an excellent experience for you. Though I cannot promise that you’ll be able to write like Beethoven, I do think you’ll be able to write like a Sweetie Belle.”

Her younger sister nuzzled her. “Thank you Rarity.”

_*_

About twenty minutes later, the first movement came to an end with the piano racing towards the finale. After that, there was a moment of silence as the Philharmonic turned their pages to the Adagio. Sea Sharp took one last look around to see that everypony was ready before she started to conduct. From the violins and violas, a calmer, simple melody rose like a lazy summer afternoon. This slow piece was warm, bright, but not overly proud, almost like a certain Princess that was listening to it.

Indeed, as Beethoven began his part on the piano with a slow descent from the higher keys, Celestia reflected a time she and her sister shared long ago. Back to when things were simple, before the crown, before the harsh winters, or even when the very idea of Equestria was only a distant dream. She could still remember a childhood in all its innocence. Of those times of playing tag in the mountain forests to the distant flights with their mother, the Sun Princess remembered that time fondly of wilderness untouched.

For Luna, this music reminded her of those firesides with their mother under the stars as she told them all sorts of stories. From tales of playful spirits to knights being rescued by princesses, of dragons and gryphons, it filled their young imaginations of worlds and magic beyond their understanding. It reminded her of dreams among the stars that seemed too revolved around her.

All Cadance could think about as the serene music poured down like a gentle waterfall as the time when she was dating Shining Armor. From the piano, she could easily see in her mind’s eye the picnic that she set up beside the tall, misty waterfall of the Smoky Mountains. She could still feel her stallion’s head resting on her neck, taking in the moment of the swirling pools of cool water, underneath the shade of an oak tree on that sunny August. But in reality, her husband was doing the same, nuzzling her as a quiet reminder of his love for her.

In another box, Beethoven’s Landlady, Lyra, felt a peck on her cheek. She looked over to Bon Bon, “What was that for?” she whispered.

“Oh, nothing,” the Candymare replied. “How do you feel that our neighbor is going back to where he comes from?”

Lyra thought about it for a moment, “On the one hoof, it’s gonna be sad to have a real human going away. Yeah, even with all the complaints and, let’s face it, he wasn’t much of a neighbor with playing his pianos at three in the morning or sometimes letting water leak through the floor, or even write on the walls. I won’t lie, the cleanup was a pain. But then again… Just listen to that. He has given us what humans are capable of doing, and it’s amazing in the face of his disability. It’s rather inspiring for anypony. On the other hoof, at least it gives me enough material for that book I’ve been promising to write.”

The cream earth pony raised an eyebrow, “About him?”

“Yeah. A book detailing of what he was like when he moved in, plus, I think I’ve got the perfect title for it. ‘Beethoven Lives Upstairs.’ Besides, asides from Princess Twilight, we probably have some insight into the guy then anyone.”

“Well, maybe before you start doing that, maybe you should interview other ponies that have known him. You know, like the Apples, Princess Twilight and her assistant, just ponies that knew him.”

Lyra told her that she would think about it, “But for now, let’s enjoy the moment, together.”

On stage, Beethoven’s mind drifted to the people he missed the most. Karl was one of them, in which he could still save him from dying at his own hand. His friend Schiller, he is in need of an apology after they performed the Ninth for all the things Ludwig had said to him. And yet, of all the people that’s been going through his mind, of past friends and family, of brothers he hadn’t seen and patrons he hadn’t talk to, one still haunted him. His Immortal Beloved. Maybe if he returns to Vienna with all the gold he’s made in Equestria, perhaps he could give her a gift that she would approve of.

But he kept his attention on those black and white keys. With his ears, he listens and waits in anticipation for the bassoons to slow down time to surprise the audience for the next movement. After pressing a few gentle, atmospheric keys to the pizzicato of the strings, Ludwig smirked wickedly and impatiently went straight into the third movement with a tumbling roar. It certainly jolted a few ponies awake as the piano suddenly combusted into a carnival of sound. Beethoven’s hands went about the keyboard in Rhapsody, playing the opening of a circus of wonder and fun.

It wasn’t long until the orchestra to falls into this festive spell, like an evening of playing carnival games with all the lights and bustling crowds. Horns and strings shouted upon the rhythmic rides that play with their expectations. Winds and percussion kept time with the sweetness of fairground food. Ludwig’s piano zips by like a rushing rollercoaster, but curiously enough, he slows down time itself to give the audience an overview of this bright and colorful land.

Up in the boxes, next to Princess Twilight, this fun music sent Spike back to the times he been to those carnivals that would come into Canterlot. While the drake may be young, he still remembered the rides that he used to be terrified of, like the rickety roller coaster that went incredibly fast through several loops. But he also remembered the clouds of cotton candy, the deep fried chocolate bars, the funnel cakes, the merry-go-rounds, and the games that promised prizes if you tossed a ring or threw a ball. Both the piano and orchestra onstage made the dragon assistant nostalgic of those times when he was younger and he would go to these carnivals during the summer. Back to those times when Twilight was still a unicorn and Shining was still single, but they did have a ton of fun throughout the whole day.

On stage, Ludwig was trying to suppress a laugh as his fingers were but a blur. In this lively music, he was in his element, even for a man that was over fifty years, he felt twenty as the notes scaled up and down with hands of fire. He glanced up at the audience once again; some of them were swaying to the rhythm while others were nodding to the beat. Even the older ponies were caught in a trance in this contagious music, why, they were smiling. The younger in the audience could barely keep still, and this was what he wanted as his hands beat on.

However, even with all this jubilant music, the concerto had to come to an end. So Ludwig led on the Philharmonic to a spinning finale in which he made the instrument become softer and quieter until he fired upon the audience with fireworks that the orchestra closed with several, golden chords. At the end of the bang, the equine audience stood up and cheered.

For the old man, it was the most satisfying sound in the world as he got up and bowed low. He turned around for the Philharmonic and the conductor to do the same, so they did. Once everything had died out and after several bows, Ludwig spoke, “Everyone, as my time here in Equestria is about to come to an end, I think it’s about time to give credit, where credit is due.”

“Don’t leave us!” someone in the audience cried.

But Ludwig held up his hand, “Wait! Before any of you speak, while I still have my hearing back until tomorrow morning, let me have my say.” The theater went still, “Firstly, I wish to give my thanks to the citizens of Ponyville for taking me in – especially for my landlady who is here tonight, and who has had to put up with my horrific style of living.” This got a laugh out of the audience, “Also, to Princess Twilight Sparkle, the enlightened princess, who without her, none of you may ever hear my music and to have it published for posterity in this world. Not to mention that she saved my next and final symphony from destruction.”

After the applause died down, Beethoven continued, “Secondly, I wish to thank this orchestra, who in the past year has endured and surpassed every obstacle I could throw at them. They seemed to have managed to perform all of my works, even when I couldn’t hear half of it. But in this orchestra, I want to thank two particular mares that have made this all possible. Fräulein Octavia Melody and Fräulein Vinyl Scratch, without these two, I would never have my music performed, and to have the machines that had me hear what they were playing.

“But if there’s anyone that I should be really be thanking, it is all of you. For giving my music a chance in this new world, to revive the old masters, and pave the way for the music that I know and love towards a brighter future. I will leave my music at your mercy, to inspire, to educate and to be a compass for future musicians. Although I will miss my time in Equestria, I will leave with the knowledge that it is in… good hooves. However, before we end, I want to give you all a farewell. A farewell to this world, and my hearing – I want to play for you, one last time.”

There was a murmur as Beethoven approached the open piano. Once he sat down, he looked at the keyboard for a very long time. He, along with every single pony in that theater knew that whatever he played, will be the last time he would play in public. But what was he going to do?

All sat at the edge of their seats as Ludwig lifted his hands and placed them gently upon the keys. Thus, through his fingertips and his imagination, the piano began to sing goodbye to everyone, and everything. A simple tune with haunting chords came like a gentle phantom. Ludwig hunched over the piano, his hears listened intensely to what might as well be the last sounds he’ll ever hear. He let his heart embrace and hold onto the improvised song as long as it could.

What nopony expected, especially from Applejack, was what happened as this song developed. Without so much as making out a sound, Ludwig was crying. The orange mare remembered back in that hospital room months ago how he said that composers apparently don’t cry, yet, the lights of the stage made it undeniable, there were tears flowing. The keys that he played were perfect; from the trills, to the decrescendo on the piano as Beethoven played his heart out. It was hard for those watching and listening not to tear up themselves at the heartbreaking yet heartwarming scene that was being played out to them.

Beethoven, for those ponies, would leave them, but the memory of that night as he played the piano for the last time would never be forgotten.

Author's Note

From the Editor: "Editor's note: Farewell, Beethoven. It has been an honor and a pleasure listening and editing. -Circuit"

Chapter 60: Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Beethoven in F minor.

“So how much further is it?”

Twilight looked over her shoulder at the enormous group of volunteers that were carrying Beethoven’s things. Whatever carts that could be spared they brought with them to hull the enormous furniture along with the scraps of paper that Ludwig had written on. The group of ponies that were following Princess Twilight all morning had trudged through the Whitetail Woods on that cool summer’s morning. And as the anniversary of when the old man was discovered was tomorrow, so the Princess thought it was appropriate to have Mr. Beethoven’s things packed up and ready to go.

The alicorn quickly identified Thunderlane, who was carrying a basket of the giant’s manuscripts, to be the one asking the question.

“Not too far away now, I think another five minutes and we should see the room itself.”

The charcoal pegasus flew down next to her, “What condition do you think the place will be in? I mean, nopony has set foot in that place for a year. Not to mention that it’s been out here exposed to the elements.”

“That’s why we’re here to clean it up before he leaves,” Twilight replied. “Remember, Mr. Beethoven had locked the door before he moved to Ponyville. Chances are, the place itself is just in need of a good dusting. And if worst comes to worst, then we should fix whatever has been damaged.”

“If you say so,” the stallion muttered.

Several minutes later, the volunteers finally arrived at their destination. The tiny apartment that seemed to have been cut out of a larger building was right as they left it. The windows weren’t broken, which was good. The roof held up the debris of leaves and sticks that were collected over the past year. The paint on the plaster was chipped, and the still varnish on the locked door was peeling while the doorknob was nearly covered in rust.

Twilight took out the skeleton key that Mr. Beethoven had given her, and while it took a good deal of effort, she managed to unlock the rusty door. Inside, the wooden planks were covered in an even layer of dust, the walls and ceiling were dangling in cobwebs. And in one corner, Twilight could see that there was some mold growing in a sickly blue color.

“Okay,” she said, “First thing’s first, have we got the brooms?” Twilight asked as she looked behind her. Several ponies lifted their brooms above their heads. “Good, let’s clean this up before we put everything back in its place.”

_*_

In all, Ludwig had a good day. As the carriage rolled along the path through the forest, Beethoven reflected his final day in Equestria. The weather wasn’t too hot from his daily strolls, his neighbors had offered him a breakfast of raspberry and chocolate chip muffins, he came up with a new theme for a string quartet in his walk through the park, had lunch with Spike as they feasted on chicken, and he just received the crucial copy of his Tenth symphony that needed that final bar to be filled out.

The sun was setting, and he decided that he would spend his final meal in Equestria with the two mares that had helped him the most, which happened to be the very mares that were riding with him to his small apartment. On the left across from him, Octavia propped her chin on her hoof, her attention towards the passing trees. And on the right, Ludwig watched as Vinyl was writing something down on a notepad before she flipped it over to show him.

You know, we’re really gonna miss you.

“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Ludwig said. “After all, I would be missing several things as well of this country.” The unicorn DJ tilted her head to the side. “For one, I will be missing your machines that had helped me hear somewhat. I will also be missing your trains, the wonders of electricity, your enlightened leaders, your exotic foods, and of course, I will be missing you both as well. You were helpful with my music, and helping me hear it as well. Now, since I’m returning to a land where powering up your batteries will be useless,” he pulled out from his pocket the pair of headphones along with the small music device over to them. “I’m afraid that I have to return these to you.”

Both Vinyl and Octavia looked at one another in surprise, “But Mr. Beethoven-”

“Wait,” Ludwig cut her off as he searched his other pocket to pull out the magic scroll. “Now talk.”

The Cellist continued, “But Mr. Beethoven, we gave these to you. It’s your gift.”

“One in which I cannot use in Vienna. We don’t have the means to power up this device, and electricity is still a new thing for us. So I don’t know if I’ll be able to use these again. Which is why I’m giving these back to you, in memory of my time here.”

Vinyl took them in her sapphire magic, levitating over to her to hold in her hooves.

“Mr. Beethoven,” Octavia spoke, “Are you sure that there’s no way to convince you to change your mind, after all, you’ve done for Equestria?”

Ludwig shook his head, “As much as I want to, this land is not my home. My home is where my friends and family are, many of which are in need of a long-overdue apology. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if the last thing that they’ll remember me by is an argument. I missed many things in Vienna that I’m looking forward towards to enjoying again.”

“That being?”

Beethoven laughed, “The food for starters. Proper ale and Italian wines too. The people that I know and love, along with the forest that’s just outside of the city – it makes me wish ponies like you could see it. Vienna is nothing like it in the world, or in any other. A city of musicians that we crave for the new and the cleaver, I do believe, if you two had gone to visit it, you might become all the rage from beggars to princes.”

“I’m sure it’s a lovely place,” Octavia said, “Although, there is something that has been bothering me concerning your departure.”

“That being?”

“How are we going to conduct your next symphony without you? I mean, you have helped a good deal in clarifying how certain passages are supposed to flow.”

“Shame on you, Fräulein,” Beethoven huffed. “At this point, I thought you and the Philharmonic would have known me by now. After all, I have already whipped the orchestra into shape that, even without me, would have known how to interpret my work at this point. I’m sure that you can perform the Tenth without a problem. Although…” Ludwig trailed off, “before I leave tonight, I would need you to do a very important favor for me.”

Octavia’s ears perked forward, “Anything.”

“At the final movement, where the orchestra dissolves to only a cello solo, I have left out a note that I’m planning on writing tonight that signals the end of the symphony. When I am gone for good, it is important that you write out this final bar.”

“Of course sir, what is it?”

Here, Beethoven took out from his pockets a piece of scratch paper and a pencil and drew out five lines in the bass clef. He wrote two bars of music with only a single whole note and a bar of silence before folding it. “This is the last note to end it, can I entrust you to give this to those publishers to make a new copy of the Tenth?”

Octavia took the folded piece of paper and nodded, “Of course, sir.”

_*_

The carriage pulled up to a huge crowd of ponies. With the sun just touching the horizon, Ludwig stepped out of it to a forest flooded with Equestrians from all over the country. Although Beethoven could not hear them, he could see it in the light of their lanterns, of their pleading eyes, they were begging him not to go. As the giant made his way towards his tiny apartment, the ponies cleared a path for him to trudge on. He saw the signs they were holding up, half of them were saying goodbye, and the others were asking him to stay.

Still, he walked on, with the copy of his Tenth under his arm; he walked towards the only room in the darkening forest. There at the door, he saw Princess Twilight Sparkle and her assistant, waiting for him. He stopped right in front of them, “I didn’t think that I would see this many ponies in one place to wish me goodbye.”

Twilight waited as he pulled out the magic scroll, “I want to apologize on behalf of Princess Celestia, Luna, Cadance, my brother and Prince Blueblood who couldn’t make it here tonight. Still, on behalf of everypony here and beyond, we want to say one thing to you before you go.”

“And that being?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. In less than a year, you’ve become a source of inspiration, and hope for many ponies. Who would have thought that a giant that was deaf can write the greatest pieces of music, that we have ever heard that goes on par with Moztrot or Buch? You gave a dying genre of music a second chance when most thought it was irredeemable. And with your last symphony, you gave the world the very song to hear when we needed the most. I don’t know if we’ll ever see anypony the likes of you again, but we will be treating your scores of music as a national treasure. For that, goodbye Mr. Beethoven, and thank you.”

As Ludwig looked up after what he read, he saw Spike’s claw gesturing for him to turn around. Beethoven looked behind him to see waves of white handkerchiefs in the air, waving to him in solidarity. Even before he could move, he felt something grabbing at his leg, only to look down to see Spike hugging him.

Twilight’s horn glowed and offered Beethoven the skeleton key with a smile. Ludwig took hold of the key as the little drake let go, “Thank you,” he said as he went over to the familiar door to unlock it. But before he could enter, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Auf Wiedersehen Prinzessin Twilight, möge Gott Sie segnen.”

Stepping inside, he found the old room was a good deal cleaner then he left it. The furniture and his legless piano were in the same place, but the plates, silverware, glasses, along with his manuscripts and bundles of scratch paper were all tied up in twine and were neatly placed about the room. Closing the door behind him, he picked up some matches and lit the candles over the piano before sitting down on the bed.

Taking in a deep breath, he flipped open the copy of Tenth to the last page and took out a pencil from his pocket to write in the final note. As soon as he did, he noticed that the windows and the room itself had become darker. Looking up towards the door, he saw the Shadow with its unblinking white eyes. He took a quick glance around the room to see that the windows only showed a dark void.

“It’s all finished,” he said as he took out the scroll and tossed it over to the creature. “It took me a good deal of time, but the score is at least complete.”

The Shadow took up the magic scroll with its impossibly long arm and held it up to Ludwig’s face.

“What a relief indeed. Now just give me the manuscript you have, you will go home, and I would have something to show my Employer.”

Ludwig stood up from his bed, “Not yet.”

“What?” the words on the scroll inquired.

“I’ll give you my Tenth,” he started as he slowly walked towards the piano. “But for a price of my own.”

“You are in no position to bargain.”

“Am I?” Ludwig questioned as he knelt down at the only light source in the room. “If I recall correctly, you don’t really care if I get left behind in that land of ponies, do you not? Yet, you have invested so much in my writings. I will give you the symphony, but in exchange, I want to know why you and your employer want it so badly to go to this extreme length to get it.”

“I told you, I’m not bound to do so.”

“As you wish,” Beethoven then held the pages of the manuscript right over the flames of the candles. But just as he did so, suddenly, a shadowy hand snatched at his wrist to keep the symphony away from the fire. “For a spirit that said there is no music where you came from, you seemed to be interested in preserving this score.”

The Shadow made no reply.

Ludwig continued, “Tell me exactly why you need a symphony, or I will let go of this.”

The shadowy hand loosened, letting it become flat on the piano and the floor. “I’m not going to win this, am I?” Beethoven shook his head. So the creature moved along the walls to the bed, in which, surprisingly enough, it took a seat. To make things even stranger, the silhouette formed an arm, this time with the outline of clothing, to pat on the bed, as if to invite him to sit with it.

Holding on to the manuscript, Ludwig did so with suspicious eyes.

Then the Shadow held up the scroll, “A year ago, you asked me who am I, however, you had asked the wrong question.” It said, “Ask me rather, who I was.”

The old man folded his arms but kept the bounded score close to his chest. “Fine. Who were you?” Before his eyes, the shape of the shadow had changed. No longer was it tall and narrow with a simple outline of a head. It took on the silhouette of a man. One that had the outline of a powdered wig with a bow in the back, the features of the face became more defined as it looked to the side to reveal a nose, mouth, and chin. An outline of a coat, decades-old became a little distinct with all its buttons, collars and cuffs.

In the back of Ludwig’s mind, there was something… frighteningly familiar about this silhouette that the creature was transforming into. But for a long time, he couldn’t figure out who exactly it was. Then the Shadow took hold of the scroll, and its dark mass of an arm holding it up to him, it’s piercing white eyes looking over.

“Do you recognize me? In life, I was your greatest fear and your first teacher. I had taught you everything and placed great expectations on your shoulders. To my friends, they called me Johann. But to you, you called me Papa.”

Ludwig instinctively leaped backward as he got up. “What! Is this a trick?”

The shadow’s eyes narrowed, “No you stupid boy! Why would an eternally damned man lie?”

Although startled, Beethoven was suspicious of its claim, “Prove it.”

“Your grandfather was the Kapellmeister in Bonn; I began to teach you the piano when you were five; I took you out of school so you would have more time to practice; your brothers and sisters names are Kaspar, Nikolaus, Anna, Franz, and Maria. Do you want me to go on?” When Ludwig didn’t reply, the scroll further read, “And in my lifetime, I had nearly beaten you to death… twice.”

Now the composer was convinced, “What the living HELL are you doing here!” he roared.

“Exactly,” the scroll read. “Ludwig, sit down.”

“Get out!”

“Do you want an explanation as to why I am here or not! How can I offer you the truth if you won’t let me?”

Although clearly angry, Ludwig returned to his place on the bed. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be burning for all eternity?”

“Oh, I wish that were the case,” the scroll read. Beethoven asked him what he meant. “Have you ever heard the phrase that Hell is other people? As it turns out, there is such a place, but it’s not what you think it is. After I died, it was the first time I met… him. My Employer that I can never quit from, for he told me that for all my crimes against God and mankind, I was sentenced to live in the shadow of the one that I hurt the most – in this case, I was designated to be your shadow for all eternity. I was to be hurt when you were hurt, to fall sick when you were sick, to suffer as you suffered. My punishment was to live your life, again, and again, and again forever. To never be able to comfort you, or to say that I was sorry, or to do anything about your hearing; until the end of time, I am forced to live your miserable life.”

His father became still as he looked away but still held up the scroll. “In truth, I’ve given up how many times I witnessed you be born, beaten, heartbroken, grow old, and die only to come back again. But that’s not why I’m here. Ludwig, my greatest dream was to see you as famous as Herr Mozart. But knowing the last few years ahead of you, I am worried beyond description when I know that in these last years of your life; you’ll grow out of favor among your fellow men.”

“Out of favor,” Ludwig said, baffled.

“It’s true. After you wrote the Ninth, people begin to wonder if you’re even capable of writing music anymore. Remember how those Equestrians didn’t take too kindly to your Great Fugue? Just wait until you hear what the Viennese have to say about it! And since I can’t see beyond your death, I worry if you’ll become like your teacher Salieri has. To let your music grow fainter, ever fainter until no one plays it at all. I did not teach you to play the piano so in the end, you’ll just be forgotten!

“So… I summoned my Employer, and begged him, not to change my condition for something new, but for some insurance that your name will be remembered. Well… he said that he would, only on the condition that I somehow convince you to write a symphony that mankind would never hear. Of course, I couldn’t just tell you right away who I was that wanted this, knowing you, you would never have agreed to this. So he gave me some limited powers just to convince you to write the symphony so that your name and your music will be immortalized.” He held out his shadowy hand. “That is the price, Ludwig. Your songs, concertos, sonatas, symphonies, trios, quartets, and that opera will be remembered as long as man breathes, all it costs is that manuscript you’re holding.”

But Ludwig wasn’t ready to hand over his score. “So that’s it then? You kidnapped me beyond space and time; place me in an unfamiliar world, finding out that I don’t have much time to live, and only to find out that Papa did it out of insurance?” his eyes narrowed. “You wanted my name to be immortal? Ever since you started teaching me, you always said that no matter how I put finger to ivory, it was never good enough for you! The only time you complimented me was when you were drunk while the other times you were punching me around when I did the slightest thing wrong. Yet, you come back from the dead in order to secure my legacy? After all, you’ve done! Face it, Papa, this is not for me, you did this for yourself. You’re stealing my work so you can make your justified punishment easier. Do you realize that you’re robbing future generations in our world just so you can have peace of mind? You really haven’t changed at all!”

Just as Ludwig quickly turned his back on him, the scroll came up to his face, “Oh, and you consider yourself better? The famous Ludwig van Beethoven, the short-tempered genius who stolen the son of one of his dying brother's simply because he didn’t think the mother was good enough for the boy! Sure, I maybe have been a drunk when I was alive, but at least I didn’t steal someone else’s child!”

In a rage, Beethoven threw the music at the shadow of his father, “Get out! Take the damned symphony and leave! Karl has been raised by a better man than you had ever been!”

So Johann did, scooping up the score in one of his shadowy hands, he let it dissolve into the inky blackness of his form until it was no more. Getting up from the bed, Beethoven’s father morphed back into the skinny shadow once more, his eyes moved about as if he was shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” he said to Ludwig before the magic scroll too enveloped in the darkness. Once it faded away, a flash of light came across the room; Beethoven swirled around to the windows to see lightning and the lighted rooftops of a familiar city. Ludwig looked around the room once again; the Shadow of his father had disappeared.

The first thing he did was to go straight to one of the windows to fling them open to the story air. From the shingled roofs to the cobblestone streets, he knew one thing was for certain. He was home. He was back in Vienna.

Just to make sure, he rushed over to the door to find the familiar hallway of the mangled apartment building. Ludwig sighed in relief. He was back, but he had much to do. The first thing he did was to grab his top hat, his overcoat, and a small pocket full of jewels in hopes he could find his nephew. He had a guess that if he was anywhere at this time of night, it probably would be at the White Elk tavern on the other side of the city.

‘He’s wrong,’ Ludwig thought as he stormed out. ‘I’ll show him! I’m the better man!’ And with that, he slammed the door.

Chapter 61: Finale in C minor.

Octavia sighed, she mentally rechecked everything. Her cello had new strings, the bow had plenty of rosen, the completed score was right there before her. It had been a month since Ludwig van Beethoven had returned to… wherever he came from, and the Philharmonic practiced the giant’s last symphony. Not to say that the interpretation was exactly simple since the composer left. There were disagreements on the exact tempos and phrases in some parts between the conductor and the musicians. To add to the stress… it was agreed upon that Beethoven’s final piece will be performed to both a live audience and on the radio.

The cellist was the first to arrive for last minute practice before the rest of the orchestra arrived. She could hear the theater being filled up from the other side of the ruby curtain as she went over some of the more difficult bars in her solos. However, she did feel ready.

“Three minutes until showtime, everypony,” Sea Sharp said to the orchestra. “We should start tuning now while we still can. Where’s Horseshoepin?”

“Here, ma’am,” the stallion’s voice said from across the stage. Although he wouldn’t be playing until the fourth movement, the grand piano was tucked nicely near the center stage between the second violins and the violas.

Soon enough, the Philharmonic tuned up their instruments, matching their harmonic humming to one another for what was to come. Then, there was silence as all they can hear is the idle chatter from behind the curtain. When the curtain was pulled aside, they were greeted to a roar of applause as their conductor strode to the center where a microphone stood waiting. It was then that Octavia noticed the glowing red light bulb in the balcony, which could only mean one thing: they were live.

“Good evening, Fillies and Gentlecolts,” Sea Sharp began. “Tonight we are here to honor a friend of the Canterlot Philharmonic, and a great composer, Ludwig van Beethoven. While it is unfortunate that Mr. Beethoven can’t be with us tonight as we premiere his last symphony, we can be grateful that we have a copy of this truly remarkable music in which you all are about to partake.

“Comparing this to his other nine symphonies that we’ve played, this one stands out. This is because the score that we were given is actually a story. Or to be more precise, it is a tale of an alternative history of classical music, through the imagination of Beethoven. He left behind a record of what music was in his world in the first two movements, how music is now in the third, and interestingly enough, what music could be in the fourth.

“So here on Equestria National Radio 100.7, we present to you here at the Royal Lunar Theater and at home, the premiere of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 10, a History of Music in A minor.”

Octavia took in a deep breath as the unicorn conductor hopped onto the stand, she lifted her bow to the strings and waited. Once the theater became quiet, Sea Sharp nodded to her to begin. The cellist looked at the score, and noticed that the marking was most unusual – it had no time signature. No beat to indicate how fast she was meant to play other than the instruction: “Adagietto, pianissimo. Gently, almost like a prayer.”

Looking at the notes on the page, Octavia began to play on the lower strings slowly. From her instrument, the sound of the melody was ancient, as if it came from before recorded time. It was a simple, humble, quiet little tune that her hooves guided so effortlessly. Before long, the double basses, cellos, and violas replied to her in monotone as it repeated the song. Octavia further developed the song for a short while before the bassoons, oboes, and violins repeated the theme.

Horns and trombones then took the spotlight with a tone that could be mistaken to have come from a lost civilization. When combined together, the orchestra spoke in a language that seemed simple, but exotic. Even more so since Sea Sharp still hadn’t lifted her baton, much to the confusion of the audience.

But when she did begin to finally count time, clarinets, flutes, and violins now turned the one voice of a melody into a duet. Harmonies came when high and low notes met, adding more rhythms into the voices of this ancient chant. From it, two voices became three as the violas and oboes joined together. Three became four when the horns, trumpets and double basses helped enrich the sound. For several minutes, it almost sounded like a choir singing in a forgotten language.

Yet, even with all of the humble tranquility, the opening of this movement was searching for something, carefully feeling for something. But what could it be? The brass provided the answer as it added a new, ever-increasing golden sound the symphony reached for its first crescendo. The strings seemed to have climbed over, the tone unexpectedly changed from this simple chant to the opening of a baroque concerto. Violins and violas were giving counterpoint of light to the darker notes of the cellos like brushing light and shade onto a painting. The melody was the same as the opening, but this time it came alive with trills and clever, dancing notes.

Then all went still as two violins wrestled with one another like colts – each one trying to outdo the other while the violas and cellos kept the beat. As one violin does acrobatic tricks with bombast, the other would counter it with borderline aggressive yet skillful attacks. The two of them would go back and forth in attitude, almost as if they were in an intricate dance for dominance.

However, it seemed like it was the end when suddenly the entire string section held long, whole notes, the two violins slowed down to change the tone of the piece. This time, it was as if the whole fight was in slow motion as the cellos brought the theme back, nearly ghostlike as the two violins now sang in heartbreaking harmony. As one note is held up high, the other would scale up and downwards before they joined together only to break up again. There was a hint of sadness when those two violins played together with the signature baroque trill.

But this stillness didn’t last long as the first violin resurrected the opening theme with fire. The bow took on double-steps to make the wooden instrument glow brightly like a phoenix ready for battle. The second violin’s bow rapidly bounced as if it were firing notes at the other. Somehow, the overarching theme was still there in those speeding violins that dueled with one another. It was thrilling to listen to as well as to imagine.

Still, the movement didn’t end there. Just when it looked like when the violins had come to a draw, the brass and winds reappeared to do something even more unexpected than the surprise mini-concerto. From the trombones and horns, they repeated the theme in its Baroque style, but as the winds came in to repeat the song, it became clear that it was starting a fugue. It wasn’t too long until the violins added another layer as the instruments continued on with their counterpoint. As the theme was passed along to the cellos and violas, the counterpoints worked off one another like an elaborate machine – each adding and contrasting layers that pulled and swapped on one another while somehow highlighting the overarching theme. Every so often, sections of the orchestra would be given rest as the sound spun around the stage with its fast pace scales and trills. For Octavia, it almost sounded like something that Buch would write as her bow sped along the strings.

At the final crescendo, where chords of strings and brass were played, the first movement came to an end. Octavia took a moment to wipe her brow as the audience applauded before she flipped the page to the next movement. In a sense, the Cellist was relieved of this second movement in which not only was it easier to play, but it was a warm-up for what was to come.

For Octavia, this second movement was familiar, almost Moztrotian in tone. The largo began with only strings, smooth, elegant and precise. If anything, with the soft horns, it was like the opening of a forgotten dance before a solo oboe lead the way forward. Her cello kept time to this slow movement, brass and winds were building a contrast to the waltzing strings, as if they were whispering sweet nothings to each other like lovers. In a way, for Octavia that is, it was like listening to a fantasy of a dance with the oboe being the star of this movement.

Although even she had to admit, while it was indeed pleasant to listen to, it wasn’t exactly like the Beethoven that she had been playing. If it weren’t for the name on the top of her copy music sheet, she would have easily mistaken this to be the work of some other composer. ‘He does a good job at imitating Moztrot,’ she thought, ‘and thank Celestia that it’s the shortest movement in the bunch.’

Indeed, a few minutes later, the dancing movement came to an end with polite applause from the audience. Octavia took one last look around at her fellow musicians, and judging by the looks in their eyes, they were thinking of the exact same thing: ‘Here we go, everypony.’

Sea Sharp cued for the strings to play the opening bars of the third movement. This time the music sounded much like Beethoven’s other symphonies as the horns carried it onto the winds to develop a peaceful atmosphere. Oboes and clarinets created a scene of peaceful countryside with its wood-like sound. For several minutes, the winds and strings carried on an idealistic day of a lazy afternoon.

Octavia looked out to the audience as they played, a few of them had a look of confusion on their faces as they had just played something tranquil and calm in the last movement and are now repeating it in tone in this one. In fact, most of them had a look of boredom, expecting something different to come around.

Luckily, nopony had to wait for long when at a still moment in the piece, the orchestra unexpectedly burst into a storm. Violins tried to gallop away while the cellos, brass, and percussion thundered through the tranquil landscape. It would seem that the violins were on the run for their very lives. To this, the audience was pleased as it bared the signature of Beethoven, the drama that they came to listen had finally emerged.

From the Philharmonic, this monstrous storm created mass conflict between the meek violins, clarinets, and oboes with the raging cellos, percussion, and brass. The way how the beat seemed to gallop into the audience, even when only the humble voices were heard, drove the intense pursuit further. At this point, nopony could guess where this music was taking them, nor have any idea how it would end.

For many tense minutes, this intimidating storm of a piece blew those who were listening into a hurricane where counterpoint and harmony fought for survival. Everything was up in the air and spinning like a twister while Sea Sharp tried as best she could to keep time. Trumpets and piccolos were swept up in this vortex like innocent bystanders. What was happening in this unpredictable music?

Just when things were turning for the worst, the long-held notes from the horns brought everything to a standstill before repeating the opening like a sigh of relief. As it did, there was a sense that order was finally restored, and the strings took a much more active role in giving this liberation a richer color. The strings rejoiced in this new found peace as the weary winds slowly set themselves to rest.

At the end of the movement, there was a burst of applause from the audience. While the orchestra prepared for the final movement, Horseshoepin, who was sitting in the wings of the stage, came out to take his place at the piano. By the time the audience died down, Octavia, along with the first and second violinist and the first violaists raised their bows, looking over to the conductor to play the last piece of Beethoven’s music.

The first thing that everypony heard was a chord of low notes on the piano, and high, smoky strings on the violins and viola. It began as a soft morning when the sun had yet to rise above the horizon. Octavia raised her bow to the higher strings of her cello and began with a melody that welcomed the sunrise. It was warm, yet the song itself had exotic trills as if the string instrument was an ancient flute from a distant culture. A piccolo softly came like a child that was just awoken by their mother to continue on the melody.

Then one by one, sections of the orchestra were added on as horns, then oboes and violas further developed the simple melody. On the piano, Horseshoepin played long, echoes of chords that paused the atmosphere of the piece. It was like a village of instruments was waking up to the sound of the morning song between cello and piccolo.

When Octavia finished her opening, the rest of the cellos and double basses beat out the rhythm of a single note drumbeat. The rest of the violins came forward to play a new theme, one that was wise and confident as the horns, trombones, and violas added an earthy tone to it. Flutes and the treble notes of the piano gave a lively, dance-like mood.

As this was going on, the piccolo would spontaneously laugh, like a playful foal. Octavia’s cello would take on the part of a watchful mother who would speak to the young one. In between the feminine violins and clarinets and the masculine horns and oboes, the solo piccolo and the cello would help transition from one part of this exotic movement to the next.

But then, all went still as a rumble sounded from the lower keys of the piano and the percussion. There was a sense of alarm from the horns, violas and double basses. Violins trembled as it rounds to a crescendo in which the cellos now gave a surprise battle cry. From there, chaos ruled, plucking strings came down like arrows, flutes screamed and bassoons groaned. This was a musical ambush in which everything, even the tempos, frequently changed.

Octavia’s cello took on a new song, one of desperation. In the nearly unpredictable rhythm, both she and the piccolo were playing together in order to try and escape the attack – notes galloped from the horrific battle as the violins were on the charge. Trumpets and bassoons clashed like warriors fighting to the death, Horseshoepin, meanwhile, took on the charge of beating the war drums with the lower keys and trying to keep harmony at the higher notes.

Then, one by one, each instrument in the Philharmonic became quiet. Each layer was stripped away. First the flutes and clarinets, then the violins, the trumpets, oboes, violas, horns, bassoons, double basses, percussion, cellos, all faded away until only the piano remained. As Horseshoepin played on, the opening theme from the very beginning of the symphony reappeared, only this time it was tinted with melancholy.

The piccolo returned in a new variation of what the piano was playing. It now sounded like a lost child, calling out for someone, anyone to find them. Octavia pulled her bow across the strings to play the morning theme to comfort the fears of the piccolo. When the single wind instrument too quieted down, only she and the piano remained, to which, the cellist played a new melody; one which sounded like a lullaby.

To Octavia, it was as if the whole world had stood still as she played. The heart-wrenching song grew increasingly quieter, her hooves played those exotic trills that sounded like the instrument itself was tired. ‘No more,’ it seemed to say with those sorrowful, low notes, ‘No more.’ The piano too faded away with its last set of chords that left the cello all alone. A few bars later, Octavia played as softly as possible to where it was nearly a whisper. The lullaby echoed in the theater as she played four, very slow notes to which she paused for the sound to resonate before she repeated it until at the very last whole note. She then lifted her bow ever so slightly off the strings, to give the whole theater a moment of silence.

When she dropped her bow to her side, it was over. The audience took the cue to applaud, standing up in their seats, stomping their hooves. Shouts of “Bravo!” rang throughout the theater. Even the orchestra too clapped their hooves as Sea Sharp insisted on Octavia to stand up. So she did, with her instrument to help support her, she stood on her hind legs, and bowed.

_*_

On a late April day, a poet was looking down in a grave. Shaking his head, he looked up at the gray stone that bore the name of his friend with the hundreds of flowers that encircled it. But no matter how many times he looked at it, he still couldn’t believe what he was reading:

Ludwig van Beethoven

17 December, 1770 – 26 March, 1827

“I still cannot believe that you’re gone, old friend,” the poet said as he shook his head in melancholy. “You still had so much to give.”

His ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, he saw a young man in a military uniform. He stopped a few feet from the grave. “Herr Schiller?”

The poet nodded, “I am.” He tilted his head towards the newcomer, “Who are you?”

“Karl, I am…” the soldier paused, “was Ludwig’s nephew.”

“Oh? So you were his adopted son? I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Schiller held out his hand to which the uniformed man shook it. “Though, out of curiosity, how do you know me?”

“Lucky guess.” Karl shrugged. “Uncle Ludwig wouldn’t stop mentioning you before they played his Ninth Symphony, and again a year later. So I just assumed that you were one of his friends, are you?”

“Indeed I was,” he nodded, looking back at the grave. “And he has spoken quite a bit about you as well. Please pardon me when I ask this but, is it true that you’ve nearly killed yourself sometime back?”

The uniformed man put his hand to his head. “Unfortunately, but I just couldn’t go through with it, not to mention how painful recovering from a bullet was.”

“I can only imagine,” Schiller placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry I brought it up, but it’s very rare to meet someone who is closely related to him. Truth be told, all I’ve heard about you came from him. Though, I can see from the uniform that it’s true that you’re in the military?”

Karl nodded, “Calvary actually. You know, Uncle Ludwig wasn’t glad I was making this choice of a career. It wasn’t until a couple months ago that I was able to fully join. Strictly speaking, I’m still in training, and the only reason I’m here is that of the news that he’s dead.”

Ludwig’s nephew stepped forward towards the foot of the grave, looking down at the black coffin that lay there. “Tell me, Herr Schiller; is it wrong that I don’t feel sad as I should be?”

The poet tilted his head, “I don’t quite know what you mean.”

“On the one hand,” Karl clarified, “Uncle Ludwig wasn’t the best father to have. Not just because he couldn’t hear anything, but he was too… unpredictable. He would be screaming at you one moment then be gentle before you knew it. He had too high an expectation of me, first of being the perfect son and being a pianist like him. But I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be, and I still can’t play the piano. I could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t criticizing me for something or another. And mother…

“But on the other hand…” he looked over to Schiller, “Uncle Ludwig had calmed down these past few years. I mean look, at least he gave his blessing for me to go into the army. He became a little bit kinder too, although not much, he really was trying to pay attention to me more. It’s not that he never loved me; perhaps it was just a bit too much. I know what he did was what he thought was for the best of me, but at this moment, I can’t help but feel free. Is that wrong?”

“No, I understand,” the poet said reassuringly, “Herr Beethoven has always been a difficult man to put up with. And you were right, he did care about your well being, so how are you now?”

“Well,” Karl stuffed his hands into the pockets of his uniform. “I think I will get by, now that I have a job in the army. Though, as of right now, I’m facing a bit of a problem.”

“That being?”

“A lawyer has come up to me this afternoon after the funeral and I found out that Uncle Ludwig has left me everything. His music, broken piano and all, I confess that I’m not exactly sure what to do with it all. I mean, he has a whole room full of scratch paper, some of which he told me in his last letter that he was planning on turning it into a new symphony, some string quartets, and… what was that last one again…? Oh! And he mentioned about doing something rather odd.”

This got Schiller’s attention, “Oh? What did he say?”

“He was thinking of writing another opera, but the subject sounded like a fairytale gone mad. I mean, he talked about a setting called… called…” Karl snapped his fingers in thought until it came to him. “Equestria! That was it! And his outline of the opera is really bizarre. It had talking ponies, princesses that were a part unicorn and part pegasus… it talked about sisters where one controlled the sun and the other the moon, and six friends being set on a quest to defeat a villain… I don’t know, to me, it sounded like he had really gone mad. And he was serious about it too, I mean look,” he dug into his pockets to pull out a letter, “this was the last thing he sent me, look on the back, there’s a sketch of the overture.”

“May I see that?” Karl handed over the letter in which he saw the notes on the back. It was indeed in Ludwig’s handwriting, the sheet music written for the piano. Schiller looked on at the overture which only took up about half of the page.

“Seems rather short don’t you think?”

Indeed, as the poet read the score, it had a grand opening before it follows into a pleasant, pastoral melody. As a sketch, it was light and it had an intriguing rhythm, with moments that had the sublimity of Mozart. The notes from the lower bar climbed upward as bright chords sounded from above, something like the fanfare of a trumpet.

“Perhaps you should hold onto that,” he said, giving it back to Karl. “If we’re lucky, perhaps something like that would be worth something.”

“Have you seen the funeral?” Karl deadpanned. “When my uncle had several thousand lining up the streets to see him as a war hero, I don’t think Vienna will be forgetting him any time soon.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Schiller said as he looked at the grave again. “Still, it is rather depressing that we never got to hear anything more out of him. He did say a few years back that he was thinking about working on two great symphonies, his ninth and tenth of course. The choral one was fantastic, but it’s a shame that we’ll never hear what his tenth may sound like if he actually finished it.”

“Remember, my Uncle did leave behind a room full of sketches,” Karl pointed out. “Maybe if we’re lucky, we might find some clues as to what it would sound like. But I’m afraid that I might have overstayed my welcome. If you wouldn’t mind, sir, I would like to have some final words with my Uncle before I leave.”

“Oh, certainly,” Schiller stepped aside.

Karl van Beethoven looked down at the coffin in the ground. For a long time, he tried to think of what to say as the sky was dimming. “Uncle… if you can hear me… We both know that things haven’t turned out the way we thought they would. I know you’re disappointed that I didn’t become a musician like yourself. And let’s admit, you were not the perfect father, as I was not the perfect son. Still, I am grateful that you let me go into the army; I still have a ways to go with my training.

“Now, with all that being said, I do have a confession to make. Uncle, I am envious of you. Even as I stand here talking to your grave, I can already hear that you might be wondering what I meant by that. Well, it’s just that after listening to your last symphony, you were able to create something so heavenly without having the ears to hear it. You showed us a new form of music that no one, not even I had thought was even possible. How could I compete with that? Especially knowing that when I too go to my grave, you will be remembered for doing the impossible, while I don’t possess the talent or the creativity to do anything like that.

“Still, we do have our lives to live. Many out there would say that it’s a tragedy that you are gone. And even though I will never admit it, I wasn’t prepared for you to go either. I’m sure that I can get by, though, considering the last time we met, I wish that I could have said goodbye better.

“Uncle, I know that you had a hard life, wherever you are, I hope that you could find some peace. Goodbye Uncle Ludwig.”

Schiller patted him on the back, “That was very noble of you. Would you care to stay for dinner? I know a tavern that has roast beef on Fridays.”

Karl shook his head, “I need to head back for training, I came to Vienna to say goodbye to my Uncle.”

“Very well,” Schiller started to walk away. “Until we meet again, have a good life, Herr Beethoven.”

“Good evening, Herr Schiller,” Karl said to him before taking one last glance at the grave, giving a military salute before he too walked away.

Author's Note

:rainbowderp: It's... It's done. It's finally done. It took me longer then I expected but... it's finally done!

Okay, before I ask the big question, I want to thank Circut Breaker for editing chapters 54 to 61. Thank you so much for polishing the final act of this massive story, and thank you for being brave enough to volunteer.

Now, since we've come to the final chapter, I would like to ask all of you one simple question: What do think of this story?

:fluttershyouch: That is, if you don't mind of me asking.

As an afterthought, if you want to see the full soundtrack that I've used for this story, click here.

Music Guide

I've posted this as a sort of guide for those who want to know where certain pieces belong to which.

Chapter 3 - Piano Sonata No. 14 (Moonlight Sonata) 3rd Movement.

Chapter 4 - Bagatelle in F minor.

Chapter 7 - Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor Op. 13 "Pathetique" 2nd Movement.

Chapter 9 - Für Elise.

Chapter 9 - Rondò alla ungherese, quasi un capriccio Op. 129 "Rage Over a Lost Penny".

Chapter 10 - "Music to My Ears" by DJ PON-3.

Chapter 10 - Concert Etude #4 for solo cello by Bukinik.

Chapter 11 - Cello Sonata in A Op.69: Allegro, ma non tanto, 1st Movement.

Chapter 11 - "The Old Grey Mare" Variations in the style of Beethoven. Improvised by Richard Grayson.

Chapter 12- Salve Regina (Cello solo, arranged from the Gregorian Chant by Tomoyan).

Chapter 13 - Symphony No. 1, 1st Movement.

Chapter 13- Symphony No. 1, 4th Movement.

Chapter 13- Symphony No. 2, 1st Movement.

Chapter 13- Symphony No. 2, 2nd Movement.

Chapter 13 - Symphony No. 2, 4th Movement.

Chapter 15 - Piano Sonata No. 17 "Tempest," 3rd Movement.

Chapter 17 - Symphony No. 3, 1st Movement.

Chapter 17 - Symphony No. 3, 2nd Movement.

Chapter 17- Symphony No. 3, 3rd Movement.

Chapter 17 - Symphony No. 3, 4th Movement.

Chapter 18 - Piano Sonata No. 14 (Moonlight Sonata) 1st Movement.

Chapter 19 - String Quartet op. 135 (Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo).

Chapter 22 - Nocturne No. 20 in C# minor by Chopin.

Chapter 23 - Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58.

Chapter 24- Symphony No. 4, 1st Movement.

Chapter 24 - Symphony No. 4, 2nd Movement.

Chapter 24 - Symphony No. 4, 4th Movement.

Chapter 25 - String Quartet No. 13 in B-Flat Major, Op. 130: II. Presto

Chapter 27- Beethoven - Rondo a Capriccio REMIX by TPRMX

Chapter 27 - String Quartet No. 14 in C# minor, Op131. Allegro (7th Movement)

Chapter 28 - Piano Sonata No. 29 "Hammerklavier," Op. 106: 5th Movement

Chapter 29 - The Spectacle (Razzle Dazzle) from season 5, episode 24.

Chapter 29 - Symphony No. 5 in C minor.

Chapter 32 - Piano Sonata No. 1, Ops 2. 2nd Movement (Adagio)

Chapter 33 - String Quartet no. 15 op. 132. 3rd Movement: Molto Adagio.

Chapter 35 - Nocturne in Eb Major. Op. 9 No. 2 by Chopin

Chapter 36 - String Quartet in B-flat major, Op. 130. 5th Movement: Cavatina

Chapter 37 - "The Swan," for violin and piano by Saint-Saens.

Chapter 38 - Symphony No. 6, 1st Movement

Chapter 38 - Symphony No. 6, 2nd Movement.

Chapter 38 - Symphony No. 6, 3/4/5 Movements.

Chapter 39 - Turkish March, from "The Ruins of Athens," arranged for solo piano.

Chapter 40 - Violin Sonata No. 9 (Kreutzer), 1st Movement.

Chapter 40 - "Mark Yonder Pomp of Costly Fashion," arranged by Beethoven.

Chapter 41 - Violin Concerto In A Minor, 1st Movement by Vivaldi.

Chapter 41 - Native American Music & Chants by Phil Thornton.

Chapter 41 - "Oyate Miye" (War Song) by The Native Tribes United.

Chapter 41 - "Lakota Lullaby" by Robert "Tree" Cody.

Chapter 41 - Auld Lang Syne by Beethoven.

Chapter 42 - Cello Sonata in D Major No. 5, Adagio.

Chapter 43 - Piano Trio No. 3 in C minor Op. 1 No. 3: IV. Finale (Prestissimo).

Chapter 44 - Violin Romance No 1, Op. 40.

Chapter 45- Egmont Overture.

Chapter 45 - Symphony No. 7: 1st Movement

Chapter 45 - Symphony No. 7: 2nd Movement.

Chapter 46 - String Quartet: Große Fuge, op. 133

Chapter 48 - Missa Solemnis: Kyrie (excerpt).

Chapter 48 - Missa Solemnis: Gloria in excelsis Deo

Chapter 48 - Missa Solemnis: Gloria; In gloria Dei Patris

Chapter 49 - Missa Solemnis: Credo; Et incarnatus est

Chapter 49 - Missa Solemnis: Credo; et vitam venturi sæculi

Chapter 49 - Missa Solemnis: Sanctus; Benedictus

Chapter 51 - Piano Concerto No.6 in B flat, K.238. 2nd Movement: Andante un poco adagio by Mozart.

Chapter 53 - Choral Fantasy for Piano, Orchestra and Choir.

Chapter 54 - Coriolan Overture

Chapter 54 - Symphony No. 8: 1st Movement.

Chapter 54 - Symphony No. 8: 2nd Movement.

Chapter 54- Symphony No. 8: 4th Movement.

Chapter 55 - In fourore iustissimae irae, RV 626. By Vivaldi.

Chapter 57 - Symphony No. 9: 1st Movement.

Chapter 57 - Symphony No. 9: 2nd Movement.

Chapter 57 - Symphony No. 9: 3rd Movement.

Chapter 57 - Symphony No. 9: 4th Movement (Ode to Joy).

Chapter 59 - Piano Concerto No. 1, 2nd Movement: Largo, Romance by Chopin.

Chapter 59 - Piano Concerto No. 5, "The Emperor"

Chapter 59 - Bagatelle No. 3. Op. 126.

Chapter 61 - Reconstructed Largo from Oboe Concerto in F Major (Hess 12)

Chapter 61 - Symphony No. 10, Unfinished (Reconstructed by Barry Cooper)

Chapter 61 - Beethoven's Last Thoughts (reconstruction from the sketches of Ludwig van Beethoven)

Chapter 1: Overture in B minor

Author's Note

Final Warning: The story you're about to read is currently unedited.

Chapter 1: Overture in B minor

For the deaf, it wasn’t true that they couldn’t hear anything. For the worst of cases, all they can hear is a ring that never ends, even when they fall asleep. Their breathing and heartbeat too, is always present, as if they play in a never-ending loop. But that’s all they can hear as far as they are concerned.

Except for one that was, inside his head, all he heard was a quartet of strings. Notes and rhythms were taking root like the trees that were growing around him in the near evening. With both arms behind his back, holding a little sketchbook, he walked slowly in the countryside the notes swam around in his skull.

A year ago, Beethoven’s symphony, his ninth so far, has failed him financially. Sure, it was widely praised as a work of genius by his critics, as something that has captured the spirit of optimism for all. However, when it came to the payment of the tickets sold, there was barely enough to get by and not enough to pay off his debts. To make matters worse, that same year his nephew Karl, the last generation of the Beethoven musical dynasty, had dropped out of becoming a musician and instead had decided he wanted to pursue a military career.

The air turned cold so he pulled his collar up further, he kept on walking until he felt the cold rain on his head. “Ach, perfect!” he shouted, “Can this possibly get any worse?”

As if a reply from the universe, he saw lightning flash in the distance. Although he can’t hear the chuckling thunder, he could instantly tell that a storm was coming and fast.

“Just what I need,” he grumbled as he quickly put his sketchbook into his overcoat and started to make the march back towards one of the latest rented room towards the city. This time it was a tiny room on the very edge of Vienna, in the poorer parts of the musical capital. After all, it was all he could afford at the moment.

The storm above him was beginning to pour with rain over him, prompting him to go faster. Looking up at the sky, he could see that it was swirling in dark violet that every so often flashed with lightning. “Where did the storm come from anyway?” he asked himself aloud. “Wasn’t it clear when I left?”

When the winds blew and the rain came down harder like falling pebbles, Ludwig picked up the pace and started to run faster towards the city, not taking notice of a slithering shadow following him. By the time his shoes trampled over the cobblestones, he noticed that even the residents of Vienna were taken in by surprise. Left and right people and animals seek shelter from the surprise storm.

Luckily, it didn’t take too long to reach the “apartments,” that he was staying in. Once he closed the door, he took a moment to catch his breath before climbing up to the top floor of the decrypted stairs to his tiny room. As he did so, he saw from the windows that the lightning was becoming more frequent by the minute. But for a brief moment in that flash, he thought that he saw a strange shadow. However, upon turning to the window, it was gone. He went up to it to only see the empty streets.

“What is going on out there?”

Once he felt that he could breathe again, he took his trek up the stairs, not taking notice of the screaming children, nor the arguing parents and their barking animals behind each door he passed. Nor did he hear an extra set of footsteps behind him. But once he got to the top fourth floor, he took out his key and unlocked the door to his room. As expected, it was just as he left it.

The legless piano was still lying flat on the floor; a few of the strings were already long broken. Everywhere the floor was littered in spilled ink, dried urine, and mounds of dishes that have been forgotten to be picked up, weeks of dust, broken quills and pencils, scattering bugs, pieces of candlesticks, scattered laundry, and thousands of papers from untouched scratch paper to finished bound copies of his music. In between are sketches of ideas that he promised himself that he’ll get around to it eventually of musical notations. On the unmade bed were the torn up pieces from his conversation book.

“Since I’m here,” he muttered to himself as he felt the door close behind him, not noticing an extra shadow had slipped in. He knelt down at his piano and pushed away the scraps to make room for his sketchbook, as well as picking up a pencil and some disregarded matches. After lighting a candle, he flipped open his book pass the muddied and overcorrected bars to a clean page. Without setting a clef or a signature key, he started to jot notes down. His mind returned daydreaming back to the string quartet with the melody of that mournful violin. Not taking notice of the storm raging outside.

He couldn’t hear the sheer noise that was going on outside or from within. If anyone were in the room, they would have heard whispers of a million voices before the room would descend into total darkness. With nothing but candlelight illuminating the blacken room, Beethoven looked up at the windows to find a thick, black veil was covering it.

“Is it night already?” He asked himself as he got up to open the window. He would expect to see the flickering lights of the city, only to see an empty void in its wake. As much as he tries to peer into the inky darkness, he couldn’t see anything but black.

Stepping back and closing the window, Ludwig thought that his heart had stopped when he saw that he wasn’t alone in the room. At the door, was a shadow that was very tall, and very lean. There was the shape of shoulders, a neck, and a head. But was deeply disturbing about it was that it had two, bright white dots for eyes that never flickered, nor blink.

“What are you?” Beethoven demanded his back firmly against the window.

He saw on the floor a hand that was as thin as a tree branch, grew across the floorboards over to the piano. Grabbing his conversation book, the flat shade suddenly became more defined as it lifted itself with the book up to the composer and opened it.

On the blank pages, he saw shadows forming the words: “Herr Beethoven?” It stayed for a moment before it faded.

“What do you want?”

“I have come to commission you,” it said.

“From who,” Ludwig demanded. “And what are you?”

“Please, do not be afraid. I’m only a messenger, here to make sure that the commission is carried out.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I’m afraid that I’m bound not to tell you. However, I can say that for your work, you shall be greatly be rewarded for your efforts.”

“What work? What do you want from me?”

“My employer wishes to give him something priceless, something that only you alone can give.”

“Then stop dancing around the question!” he furiously questioned, “What do you come for?”

“Your next symphony,” the shadow wrote to him. “One in which I’m giving you a year from tonight from completing.”

Beethoven scoffed, “Then you really don’t know me! A symphony takes time, surely, years of fine-tuning and refining. All of my symphonies had taken me many months to find the right themes alone! And you expect me to write out a whole symphony in a year?”

“I am only a messenger, and that’s part of the message.”

“Part?”

“Ah yes, there’s more,” it said as the shadow slowly moved around the room, but kept the book in place. “In order to… motivate you in carrying out this commission, I am taking you someplace far away – beyond the boundaries of your universe, beyond your ideas of space, time, and reality, in which you will stay for a whole year in. But there is a warning to this: if you don’t finish it in a year, you will never see all those you know and love in Vienna ever again.”

“What!” Beethoven shouted as he angrily marched over to the shadow, who still kept his book in front of him. “Are you seriously kidnapping me, and forcing me to do the impossible! What sense does that make!”

The shadow held up his message, “I’m only doing what I’m told. I am to drop everything inside this room to this new world for you to work on your symphony. In a year’s time, we will return here in this room to collect the payment. If you can manage to do it, you’ll go back home, in the same place and same time as we’ve left. But refuse, or aren’t able to complete it in time, then you can forget about your world.” In a fit of rage, Ludwig punched the wall, breaking the cheap plaster. The shadow’s reply, “You do know you can’t hurt shadows.”

Clenching his fist, Beethoven sat down on the bed with the shadow following closely behind him.

“How do I know you won’t go back on your word?”

“I wouldn’t exist if my employer knows I can’t keep it,” it wrote to him. “One last thing, my Employer has also instructed me to keep a close eye on you, just to see if you're complying on carrying out the commission. Even doing some check-ups every now and again to see up close you are with it. Oh, and by the way, we’re here.”

Confused, Ludwig looked over his shoulder to see trees in the window.

“Get some sleep, Herr Beethoven,” the shadow said. “You have a long day before you, a new world to discover, and a new symphony to compose. I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.” Closing the book, he let it fall to the ground as his arm melted back into the floor, retracting to its black body. The shadow then returned over to the door, in which it sunk right underneath the crack underneath it.

Ludwig got up from the bed to open the door, all he found on the other side was a forest, and a group of lights in the distance of the storm.

Chapter 3: Music of the Deaf in C # minor.

Ludwig opened up his sketchbook again; a melody of a clarinet drifted into his ringing ears as he jotted down and tied some quarter notes. Even when he can’t hear the flapping of wings behind him, he could sense that the Pegasus was leaning over to see what he was doing.

Glancing over his shoulder, his suspicions were proven correct as the blue pegasus was looking over with curiosity. He saw the mare’s lips move, although her voice was mute to his ears, he already knew what she was asking.

“What are you doing?”

Beethoven closed his little sketchbook, “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

This time Rainbow flew over until she was face to face with him, giving a puzzled look, “Was that music?”

The old man took a moment to try to read the mare’s lips, “Was that music?” she nodded, “Yes it was.” Rainbow talked some more but Ludwig flipped open to a blank page, “Write it down.”

Taking the book and pencil into her hooves (in which Beethoven marveled that the creature could do that without fingers) she wrote to him a message.

I thought you said you were deaf?

“Indeed, I am Pegasus,” he replied. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”

Yeah, I don’t.

But instead of giving the book back to him, she flipped through the pages of the book. But then paused at a page, as if she was studying it, “Can you read music?” Ludwig asked.

Rainbow shrugged, “A little,” she said. At a closer look, the writing was messy and muddied, as if the notes were written in a hurry. She flipped over a few more pages to find some that were clearer to read. Running a hoof at a particular passage, she tried humming it.

Beethoven watched at the pauses the pegasus gave between pages before turning them. Although an animal, Ludwig could see that she had a look of curiosity, intrigue even, as she looked through the notebook.

Finally, Rainbow picked up the pencil and asked him one question:

You wrote all of this?

He groaned, “Yes, it’s all mine. Now do you have any other questions, I’d like to have my book back.”

The pegasus thought for a moment, writing down her question before giving it back to him.

How long have you been out here?

“Since this morning, unfortunately,” he said before returning to composing. “Now until we get to that village, can I remain in peace? I have work to do.”

Of course, Ludwig didn’t care the overall confused look that the pegasus with the rainbow mane was giving him; he had to put his whole focus on his new symphony. But he returned to the biggest barrier that stood in his way, what theme is he going to do? After all, he had promised once to the Philharmonic Society of London had commissioned him to write a symphony years ago that he would instead write two.

But now that he has a limited time frame of composing the whole thing in a year has brought up a completely different challenge. Should he scrap his original ideas for his tenth and start anew or go for working on another symphony with a chorus? The shadow didn’t say what the theme should be about, only just to write it.

Ludwig flipped back to the Clarinet sketch and let his mind return to the sounds of it to set the notes down, once again unaware that he was humming loudly.

Rainbow looked over her shoulder at the two-legged giant, “Weirdo.” She mumbled as she led the way.

_*_

On an average day, the citizens of Ponyville could sometimes tell who was new in town. At times, creatures friendly or unfriendly tend to stop by every once in a while. By now, it wasn’t uncommon to see an epic battle happening right at one’s doorstep and then give insurance agencies headaches at the flood of reports they’d receive every couple of months or so. Eventually, the town ended up the policy of being cautious, but friendly whenever anyone was new in town.

So it wasn’t surprising as soon as Rainbow Dash came into town with Ludwig in tow, everypony within sight quickly backed away from the giant that was almost as tall as some of their houses. He was practically about twice as tall as many of the ponies that gawked upward at the creature with the unkempt mane.

Everywhere Beethoven walked or ducked under, there were not just ponies all around that was colorful as his “friend,” but there were unicorns and pegasi everywhere that looked on at him in curiosity.

“Pegasus,” Ludwig said, “Where are you taking me?” he handed her the notebook.

With a frown, she snatched the items out of his hand and jotted down:

It’s Rainbow Dash; I have a name you know! I’m bringing you to a… sensible friend of mine that deals with these sorts of things.

“This friend of yours, is she like you? With wings?”

Eh… Sure. But she has a horn too. But the point is she’s really smart so she might help you get you back home to wherever.

From the corner of his eye, Beethoven saw a unicorn trotting by with a basket suspended in the air by a blue light. “Something tells me that it is going to be very unlikely.” Although Rainbow didn’t write it down, Ludwig could immediately tell what she was asking, “Because things like that don’t happen where I come from.”

Rainbow craned her neck at the unicorn he was pointing at, “What, you mean do magic or something?”

“What?”

Groaning, she wrote down one word.

Magic?

“If that’s what you call that unnatural sorcery, then yes.”

Rainbow only rolled her eyes.

A few minutes later, the old man followed the pegasus to a what looked like a tree with a sign of a book hanging from it. But upon closer look, he found that this living tree was actually a building with windows and a red front door! Looking through one of the nearby windows, he found that inside was a library with books that were stuffed inside the hollowed tree.

He felt a tug at his coat sleeve to look down at the blue pony that held up the sketchbook to him with a message.

Please wait here, I need to talk with my friend first before meeting ya.

“Hey, Twi?” Rainbow said as she went inside. “Twilight? You in here?”

“Hang on a sec,” a voice said before a baby dragon descended from the stairs. “Hey Rainbow, you do know that your little book club with Twilight isn’t until later, right?”

“I know that,” she said. “Do you know where Twi is? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s downstairs, why? Invented a new move again?”

“Gee, what gave ya that idea,” Rainbow words were wet with sarcasm, “But in all seriousness, I think it’s important because I’ve found something while moving some clouds around that I do think she needs to see.”

“Well okay,” Spike started to make his way across the room to the door to the basement. “What did you find?”

“It’s…” she glanced over at the front door, “Kinda hard to explain, it’s one of those things that you have to see to get it.”

“Being elusive today, aren’t we?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Okay, give me a sec, I’ll go fetch her.”

While the baby dragon disappeared downstairs, Rainbow stuck her head out for a moment to make sure that Ludwig was still there. And he was, sketching away and humming loudly some unrecognizable tune.

“Rainbow,” Twilight’s voice turned her attention away towards her newly turned Alicorn friend. “What brings you out here this morning?”

“Well,” she looked over at the door before saying, “Okay, I’m just going to get straight to the point. I’ve found a weird… guy in the middle of the Whitetail Woods.”

“Like a camper?”

“I… I don’t think so. Far from it actually, whoever he is, he’s clearly lost, not to mention that he’s a little… unusual.”

“Unusual like how?” Twilight raises an eyebrow.

“Like in a way that an alien from outer space, walks on two legs, can’t hear a thing, but somehow can read Equestrian just fine.” The new princess blinked, seeing that she’s clearly lost her, Rainbow sighed, “He’s just waiting outside. Just remember that the guy can only communicate through his notebook.”

“…. Okay?” the lilac Alicorn walked out of the basement door before Spike emerged from it too.

“Hey Twi,” he said. “Since I’ve got everything done, I’m gonna go practice on the piano for a bit.”

Twilight nodded while her assistant went into the kitchen where the stand-up piano was kept.

“So where is your friend anyway?” the Princess of Friendship asked as she neared the door.

Rainbow stepped out, “Right over here.”

The Alicorn stuck her head out of the library door, looking around for a moment until she spotted him. Her eyes widened as big as dinner tables, craning her neck upward at the man that’s scratching out a phrase. “Wha… Who?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Rainbow commented. “Have any idea what he is? He said that he’s a… whomun? But I don’t think I’ve heard of that. You?

Twilight shook her head as she stepped out with wide-eyed curiosity, walking around in front of Ludwig. “Um, excuse me, sir?” But he went on mumbling and scribbling. “Hello? Sir?” she raised her voice a little louder only to get absolutely nothing from him.

Rainbow stepped in to tug on his coattails.

“WHAT!” Beethoven shouted, making both ponies jump and their wings spread open. His sudden roar got the attention of nearby ponies.

The blue pegasus pointed a hoof at the princess, “This here,” she said slowly, “is my, friend.”

Beethoven looked over at her before returning to Rainbow Dash, “What is she? She looks like that she couldn’t decide between being a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Hey!” Twilight shouted, but of course, Ludwig didn’t hear it.

“So I suppose you have a name in this country of Houyhnhnms?” Ludwig offered her his book with a pencil. “And I hope that they’re no obnoxious Yahoos too, are they?”

Twilight took the book gingerly in her magic, not letting her eyebrow down. “My… name… is… Twilight… Sparkle… and… I… have… no… idea… what… you’re… talking… about…” she said as she wrote before showing her message to him.

Ludwig sighed, “At least I can put to rest that theory,” he muttered. “I never knew anyone name Sparkle. Then again, I ought to expect that being in such a strange land overnight.”

“Hey Twi,” the two ponies looked over at the baby dragon that poked his head out. “Sorry, I’ve just heard some shouting, is everything… what is that?”

With a puzzled look, Beethoven traced what they were looking at, “And now there’s a tiny dragon. I’ve officially seen everything.”

Twilight quickly scribbled down a short message before showing it to the old man.

His name is Spike, my assistant.

Beethoven raised an eyebrow, returning his gaze at the small, scaly creature. “Since when do little ponies need assistance when they can make my notebook fly in the air?”

Spike shrugged, “How do I know?” he turned back to Twilight. “If everything is fine out here, I’m going back in to practice my scales.”

“What did he say?” Ludwig asked.

Twilight quickly gave him the message:

He has piano lessons to practice.

“Piano?” Beethoven asked with intrigue. “You have a piano?” Spike nodded, “Then I assume it’s only for you since you’re the only one other than me around here that has fingers.”

“That’s kinda speciest,” Rainbow muttered.

“Can I see it?” Ludwig asked, “I’m rather curious that in such a place where this town is mostly filled with equines that can actually think, then I’m wondering what a piano looks and sounds like.”

Rainbow deadpanned, “You’re kidding me right? You can’t even h-”

“Too many words,” Beethoven pointed at the book. “Write it down.”

She did, questioning why he would want to know what a piano sounds like if he can’t hear it. “Curiosity,” he told her. “I want to play it.”

“You’re hearing him saying this, do you?” the pegasus turned to the lilac princess. “This guy is clearly out there for way too long. I think he’s insane.”

“Sorry?” Ludwig interrogated her. “What did you say?”

“Read my lips,” she said, “I… think… you’re… crazy!”

“Really?” He narrowed his gaze at her before turning to the dragon. “Is the piano inside?” He nodded before the man pushed him out of the way into the library. “Well? Where is it?”

“Hey!” Twilight interjected, helping her assistant up. “You can’t just barge in here!”

Of course, all Beethoven heard was the ringing. He ducked down at the pocket of rooms until he spotted what he was looking for in the kitchen. But before he sat down at the piano, he first took the cookbooks off the shelves and placed it in front of the instrument so that he could sit down properly. Then he opens up drawers until he took out a long wooden spoon.

He then saw his sketchbook floating in front of him with a message.

What do you think you’re doing!?

“Proving a point,” he muttered. “That being deaf doesn’t prevent me from doing this!” He clenched the spoon with his teeth while placing the other end onto the wood of the stand-up piano. With fingers placed on the keys and his feet on the pedals, he played out his frustration of being taken for granted.

Before anypony or dragon could object, the lanky creature suddenly began to not only play, not only play it fast and loudly but good. Really good… No, impossibly good.

Notes flew up and down the piano with the speed of summer lightning and back again with intense concentration. A melody tangoed its way through the well timely chaos. Beethoven’s fingers were continuously in a state of being in a blur that elegantly danced between the white and black keys before their very eyes.

Thunderstruck, the three of them turned to one another, “You guys are hearing this? Right?” Spike asked aloud.

“You just found him in the woods?” Twilight asked her friend.

“Yeah. Just by himself, sketching music,” Rainbow shook her head in disbelief of the music that was coming out of the piano. “I thought he was crazy. I mean… how is he doing that? He can’t even hear us! Yo! Can you hear us!”

But still, Beethoven played on.

“How is that even possible!” Rainbow extended her forelegs, “The guy is stone deaf for crying out loud!”

Spike stepped forward, his eyes still not being able to be taken off the rapid-fire notes. “You think he’s done something like this before.”

“Well, obviously,” Rainbow said. “But how is he doing this? This must be a trick or something, right Twi?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t think this is even faked. Even if it is, I must say that it’s a very good trick.”

“I don’t think he’s faking it,” Spike said. The three of them listened to Beethoven’s outraged music to the end of the last, thunderous chords.

Chapter 22: The Master and the Pianist in A minor

By Beethoven’s instructions, Horseshoepin was summoned down to Ponyville for him to listen to what he’d practiced. In all honesty, Frederic felt unprepared as he trotted up to the house of Octavia Melody, the place where he was told to come. After knocking on the door, he was greeted by a white unicorn.

“Good afternoon,” he nodded, “is Ms. Melody or Mr. Beethoven here?”

“I am,” a voice from the door said. “Come right in Frederic,” as he stepped in, he noticed the familiar gray mare getting up from the couch. “Here for the torture session?”

The pianist laughed, “Yes, as ready as I will ever be,” he unhitched his saddlebag and pulled out the concerto out. “I tell you, Octavia, this has to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever played, and says a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” she rolled her eyes, “you ought to have been here when we rehearsed that duet to introduce his music. Honestly, I’ve never met anypony that was this touchy about his own work before.”

“Oh that’s comforting,” he said as he went over to the piano. “Where is the giant anyway? I thought he was going to be here.” It was then that a sticky note levitated in his face in a blue aura, quickly deducing it was from the unicorn. “‘Give him time,’” he read aloud. “Hopefully he does come; there are some parts in this thing that are just so overly complicated.”

“Which reminds me,” Octavia inquired, “how much of it have you gotten it down?”

As he set up the music sheets, taking notice of the microphone on the piano, he gave his reply. “So far? I think I got most of it down, but there are some passages that fly by so fast that it always throws me off. However, the most difficult part is the slow movement where I’m not exactly sure what mood he’s trying to convey here if there’s any mood at all.” He grudgingly sighed, “At times I’m wondering if he chose for me to play this just to torment me.”

“Well, you did try to call him bluff when he auditioned his music,” the Cellist pointed out.

“Don’t remind me.”

Just then, they heard the familiar, heavy footsteps approaching the door, the gray mare looked out the window. “Here we go everypony. Vinyl, turn on the machine.”

As the DJ flipped on the microphone and earphones, the door opened up to which Ludwig let himself in. “Ah, there’s the doubting Frederic,” he said with a smirk. He went over and picked up the headphones, “How was practicing my concerto?” Beethoven asked as he put the device to his jaw.

“Not fun,” the Pianist said into the microphone. He narrowed his gaze, “You chose this particular music to get back at me for calling you fake several months ago, isn’t it?”

“Ja.”

Horseshoepin frowned, “I really hate you.”

Ludwig laughed, “Well now, enough sulking! Let’s hear what you have so far.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. I’m only doing this because I have some questions for you.” Frederic turned to the piano and open up the keyboard. Meanwhile, Beethoven sat on the couch, both hands on the headphones, looking at the pianist.

Horseshoepin played out the parts he had, and pause in between bars that had nothing for him to play with. For a minute, there was nothing from the composer before he went to a passage that he fumbled. As soon as he realized this mistake, he turned around, “Okay, how in Equestria is anypony able to stretch his hoof at this passage here? I mean look, the notes on the bass clef are eight notes apart while on the treble clef their quarter, eighth and sixteenth notes all at the same time! The only way this is playable is if you have two ponies playing this. Otherwise, they’re way too high!”

“They are not too high,” Ludwig told him. “They are perfect! It’s your hooves that are not perfect!”

“Do you want me to play this or not!” Horseshoepin shouted back.

Beethoven folded his arms, “Play it again, exactly as I have written it.”

He did, Frederic played his part from the very beginning, pausing at the places where the orchestra was supposed to play before resuming. This time, when he got one of the difficult parts, he hit the right notes at the right time as he performed on.

Ludwig listened into the headphones intensely, “That’s it,” he nodded, “Give it some oomph.”

For the next several hours, although getting exhausted, his hooves were cramping up, and Mr. Beethoven stopped him to point out what he got wrong – Horseshoepin practically collapsed on the instrument. “Sweet Celestia, make it stop,” he moaned.

The giant, on the other hand, took off his headphones, “That was better than I expected.”

Frederic’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, “What! Did you even hear that catastrophe back there?”

“What?” Ludwig put the earphones back on, “Did you spoke just now?”

“Yes I spoke!” he said into the microphone. “How could you say that was good? I kept messing up the whole time!”

“Let me ask you this doubting Frederic,” Beethoven told him. “Explain to me, what is music? What does it do?”

The pianist looked at him perplexed. “It… I don’t know, it uplifts the soul I guess?”

“Complete nonsense. If you hear a marching band, what do you do?”

“March?”

“If you hear a Gavotte, then what?”

He shrugged, “Dance?”

“And if you hear fanfare that announces the arrival of some important person like your Princesses, does your soul uplift itself?”

“No. You pay attention. But what does this have to do with anything?”

“That is the power of music,” Beethoven explained. “Once you hear a melody played just so, the listener is immediately transfixed like being under the spell of hypnotism. For those who hear it, have no choice but to transport themselves into the mind of the composer. So let me ask you, Herr Horseshoepin, what was in my mind when I wrote this? Really think about.”

Frederic blinked. He looked over at the other two mares in the room. “You’ve got me,” Octavia said while Vinyl shrugged.

He turned back to the giant, “Alright, I have no clue. What was in your head when you wrote all of that?”

Ludwig took off his headphones and placed them on one of the arms of it. “It’s a story. The whole concerto was written during a very difficult time. When I was young, oh… probably about your ages I suppose, that I moved to Vienna for good for fame and fortune in the music capital of the world. Back then, I was more known as a virtuoso pianist than a composer.” He laughed, as he recalled something nostalgic, “My patrons were always aristocrats that, for fun, would have me outplay, and out improvise another virtuoso to see which was more creative. I’ve always won.

“As the years went by, and my works become better known when I was… what was it? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? Was when I started to notice a humming in my ears. It started softly at first, just a mere annoyance over the sound of my performance. But as time went by, I couldn’t hear high notes, even when played loudly. Then I couldn’t hear soft-spoken voices, yet, shouting was intolerable for some reason it was too sensitive.

“Then one day…” Ludwig paused for a moment, “One day I was out walking in the countryside with a pupil of mine when he stopped me to have me listen to a shepherd playing the flute… But no matter how hard I tried to listen, I didn’t hear it. Very slowly, but unmistakably, I was going deaf. I ask you, Herr Horseshoepin, how could you play with other musicians when the buzzing is louder than your piano, or the orchestra? Do you know what it’s like to say to people: ‘Face me; speak louder; shout; write it down; I am deaf,’ do you?”

Frederic didn’t reply.

“No. Of course, you don’t. How can you know when you have perfect hearing? Here I was, a famous pianist that all of Vienna wanted to hear… and my own hearing was leaving me. Do you know what kind of humiliation I face every day because of this? I have a neighbor downstairs, who has a young daughter, that can hear bells in the morning telling her that school is about to begin… and I hear nothing.” He sighed, “Absolutely nothing.”

The room was quiet; Frederic and Octavia looked over to Vinyl that was writing something down on a small chalkboard.

Dang! That sucks!

The others silently agreed.

“There’s a reason why I’m telling you this,” Beethoven continued. “This concerto was written ten years after I realized I was going deaf. The first movement illustrates what I was like as a pianist, young and full of life. The second is my illness making itself present while my soul tried to reason what to do with itself. However, the third movement is that answer. Even with my hearing going and now gone, nothing in heaven, earth or hell is going to stop me from creating great art. This is what I liked your performance, especially in the last movement: it is a song of defiance. It is a statement. ‘I am an artist. Misfortune, you are nothing. Fate, come and get me.’”

Horseshoepin looked at Beethoven, waving a hoof to put the headphones on. “Wow,” he said into the microphone. “When you put it like that, suddenly this incredibly difficult music has more meaning in it now. I had no idea what it was trying to convey, but now hearing your story… Mr. Beethoven, I think I can do this. I think it might be possible for me to play it.”

Ludwig looked over at the clock on the wall, “I’m going to eat out for my dinner. I know some good places in town; could I interest any of you in coming? I have plenty of money.”

Frederic shook his head, “No thank you, Mr. Beethoven, I want to go home to rest, and maybe practice the concerto again before I go to bed.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Ludwig added, “If you do get good at it in time for the premiere, I’ll have you play on my favorite piano for the entire world to hear.”

The Pianist tilted his head, “That’s an interesting idea,” he said into the microphone. “I’ll think it over. But I suppose the same time tomorrow?”

_*_

Later that night, Frederic Horseshoepin was at his piano looking at the giant’s score. This time, it wasn’t out of frustration, or loathing the fact that he’s the one that’s going to be the soloist in Manehatten. Rather, he looked at the notes in the second movement with fresh eyes. Now the bars of ink took on a different meaning for his piano part, for the notes weren’t dots anymore. It was a portrait of the giant’s soul, his mentality of living with his disability.

Looking at it again, and playing it out on his piano, emotions like loneliness bleed from the cords that stack on another.

He shook his head as he stopped, “He knows what I’m going through.” Horseshoepin looked over to where his portfolio was. After going over to it and taking out his unfinished piano score, he gazed at the blank bars of his Nocturne in C-sharp minor. “I know what to do now,” he nodded.

Taking out a pen, the pianist sketched a developing passage of his own music. He realized what was missing from his own puzzle: the sense of isolation. It was so obvious! This personal memory of leaving his rebel torn country was leaving out that isolated element of being in a new land. And that the only comfort he could get from being so far away – was music itself.

He worked so hard at it that he didn’t take notice of the rain that was hitting against the windowpanes, by the time he looked up; all he could think was how perfect the setting was at this moment. Horseshoepin paused for an instant as he looked at what he’s created. Even though he knows that such work probably won’t see the light of day, there was a sense of pride at what he has in front of him.

So, placing his hooves on the keyboard once more, Frederic took a breath, and played out his memory.

Chapter 25: The Cold Presto in D Major.

Author's Note

And so after dozens upon dozens upon dozens of interruptions later, I give you a short chapter just so to keep the story going.

Chapter 25: The Cold Presto in D Major.

Ludwig van Beethoven Destroys Blueblood at Concert

Manehattan, Equestria

Last night, the Giant of Ponyville has done something that no other artist had dare done before. At the end of the hour-long concert of his 4th Piano Concerto and 4th Symphony, Ludwig van Beethoven (see above) was criticized by Prince Blueblood that saying while the pieces were good, they did have, “Too many notes.”

Enraged, Ludwig declared to everypony in Carneghie Hall that the prince had no say in his work. That he doesn’t get to judge because he was so detached from both society and artists that he has no right to criticize, “You with your servants and comforts,” he says, “you don’t speak for anyone inside this room other than yourself.”

When Blueblood questioned what gives him the right to say such a thing, Beethoven tells him that divinity gives him the right since he’s deaf. “Since you seem to be such an eloquent speaker, sir, perhaps when you go mute, only then you’ll have the authority to judge anyone.”

The Prince, after losing his temper in calling the giant a: “hotheaded swine.” The composer responded the biggest burn ever said to Equestrian Royalty. “What you are, you are by accident of birth; what I am, I have made it my own… There has been, and always will be a thousand Prince Bluebloods, just like you; but there’s only one Beethoven!” he said before storming out of the theater and into the rainy night.

“That was really shocking,” the Prince said after the performance. “Even when I gave the harshest of criticism to anyone, I’ve never heard such a sharp insult in all of my life! Mr. Beethoven is really lucky that he’s not an Equestrian citizen, he would have gotten into much deeper trouble he should have been for such disrespect.”

“If you ask me,” Spike, dragon assistant to Princess Twilight told the Manehattan Times, “I think I understand where Ludwig is coming from. He’s very sensitive and can be easily offended if you’re not careful. So what that he lost his cool? The guy can’t hear a thing, so how can anypony not in his situation?”

“I can’t say if what Beethoven did was brave or stupid,” a teenager, Blasted Earphones said. “But what he did back there was bad flank! I mean, I’ve been to every concert in Manehattan to where the prince shows up, and I’ve never seen him get owned like that before. The guy stood up for his art and I respect him for that.” Then he added, “Can’t wait for the record to come out. That guy can write some wicked piano solos!”

Indeed, despite what the younger audience had seen from last night, many of them hold the opinion that they will buy the record of his new piano concerto and symphony when it comes out.

Svengallop couldn’t believe his eyes at what he just read, especially at the last sentence. What any sane manager would consider being career suicide, that not only had this Beethoven done just that, but he’s getting respect from that demographic because of it! He stared on perplex, how was something like that even possible without a much bigger backlash then that giant should get?

Putting the paper down and propping his elbows on the desk for his chin, he pondered the whole situation. For the sake of the Countess, he must do something. The record of the third symphony is still killing it on the top ten charts, and that doesn’t even cover all the printed music that’s going on in circulation! Now the manager pondered over a single question.

How to get their young demographic back?

His eye trailed down to the calendar on his desk. It contained a schedule of future concerts, events, interviews, and places to be for the Countess. Then, he suddenly got an idea. Getting up from his chair, he went over to the door to the office to say to his sectary: “Pen Stroke, find me the schedule for Beethoven’s next concert.”

_*_

Ludwig sneezed, to which the doctor quickly stepped back. Beethoven was back in Ponyville, it was a few days after the last concert, and the composer woke up sick. The landlady called for a doctor when she noticed that Ludwig wasn’t making his usual noises and that she went up to check up on him.

For the yellow doctor, he was wearing a surgical mask for the sake of caution before he checked the old man’s symptoms. Turning to the green unicorn at the door, he told her, “From what I can see,” he said. “He has a fever, sneezing, runny nose, watery red eyes… I can safely say that Mr. Beethoven has come down with a cold.”

“So nothing contagious right?” Lyra asked.

Shaking his head, the doctor took off the mask over his muzzle. “In theory, we don’t have anything to worry about. Although I don’t know anything about human biology, it does look like he has the common cold, which, give him some soup, cough medicine and two weeks rest, he should be back to normal.”

“What did he say?” Ludwig asked. Picking up a blank sheet of paper, Lyra wrote to him that he has a cold and should rest for two weeks. “Ugh, I feel like I’m dying.”

“If his condition worsens,” the doctor said as he trotted out the door, “please come and tell me. Until then, good morning ma’am,” with that, the stallion went down the stairs and out of the building.

Lyra wrote him a message, asking him where the magic scroll was. He pointed to one of the newer pianos that were still legless on the floor. After finding it, she unrolled it so that they could talk, “Could I get you something,” she asked.

“My composition book, for one,” he said before he coughed. “I must work.”

“But the doctor said that you need rest.”

Beethoven snorted, “So what? I’ve lost my hearing a long time ago, that’s a flimsy excuse for being lazy.”

“It’s not being lazy, you need healing.” Lyra pointed out, “I’ll go run some quick errands, and inform Princess Twilight that you’re sick.”

As soon as the mint unicorn left, however, Beethoven rolled out of bed and grabbed some scrap paper, a hardcover book, and a pencil. Sitting back down with a blanket wrapped around him, he immediately started drawing lines on the paper before dictating a quartet. Since he still has to work on the symphony, he decided to write something short.

Though his runny nose provided an annoying distraction, his mind hammered out a theme for two violins, a viola, and a cello. His pencil started jotting quick notes as a melody starts to sprout. All four strings seemed to be nervous, jumpy even at first. The first violin starts to gain strength before it flies all over the page in a hurry.

His writing hand was restless, even when his sneezing and coughing were telling him to slow down. But his imagination was relentless as he continued on, ever forward even in sickness. Not even taking notice that the door had opened.

“Mr. Beethoven?” Dinky Do asked as she entered the room with a basket of freshly made muffins on her back. She spied the giant on the edge of the bed, humming to himself a tune while his face was looking downward at what he was scribbling. She stomped on the floor to get his attention. Nothing. She took a step closer and did it again, but he still didn’t notice her.

So the young unicorn went up to the bed-frame itself to kick at it, this time it got Ludwig to look up at her. Wiping his nose, he asked, “What is it? What do you have?”

“These are for you,” she said loudly as she placed the basket on the bed. As Beethoven picked up one of the muffins, Dinky took the chance to take a look around at the room, and even a closer look at the writing on the walls. Only, she could barely read the notation since some of it was scratched out.

“Looks like a small cake,” Ludwig commented, taking out the scroll with his free hand. “What are these?”

“They’re muffins,” she told him. “Lyra said that you’re sick so mom and I baked these for you. And you’re holding a blueberry one, by the way.”

Ludwig put down the scroll to tare a part of the top of the muffin off to examine it closely. After sniffing the warm, cake-like substance, he popped it into his mouth. “It’s like very sweet bread,” he commented. “Is this really something you would eat for breakfast young one? This is like something you would eat as a dessert.”

“You could eat them at any time,” Dinky stated, “My mommy and I ma-”

“Too many words little unicorn,” he handed the filly the magic scroll. “Hold it up, and then talk.”

After she followed his instructions, Dinky continued, “As I was saying, muffins can be eaten at any time, Mr. Beethoven. We’re known in Ponyville for making the best muffins in town. When we’ve heard that you were sick, mommy fixed these up and hopes that you might get better soon.”

Ludwig sniffed before taking another bite, “These barriers are tart… This is by far the kindest thing a neighbor has done for me. In Vienna, where I come from, I tend to move often. The neighbors I had either didn’t like me or were afraid to go near me. But I can’t recall the last time anyone has offered me food out of kindness. Tell your mother that Herr Beethoven thanks you both.”

“I’ll tell her that, just take it easy, okay. I heard Lyra is going to get you some soup, just to let you know.” Dinky placed the scroll back on the bed.

Before she could make it out, she heard Ludwig say, “I ought to remember to repay the kindness little one.” And with that, he sneezed.

“Bless you,” Dinky said instantly before she left, leaving Beethoven alone with a string quartet in his head.

Chapter 31: The Flight to Ponyville in F minor

“Ach! Seien Sie sanft!” Beethoven yelled, the Appaloosa doctor immediately retracted his hoof away from his exposed stomach. The unicorn looked over to Princess Twilight in confusion.

“What he say?” he asked.

The alicorn held up the scroll over Ludwig’s face, “We didn’t get that, what did you say?”

“Don’t push on it so hard,” the giant complained before he covered his mouth, taking in deep breaths. Before anypony could ask what was wrong, Ludwig lurched to which Twilight immediately handed him a trashcan before he vomited.

“Oh Celestia,” the doctor said as he looked over his notes. “Let’s see… fever, nausea, has pain near his lower abdomen, vomiting, uncomfortable to walk around or to move… are you sure this was just from this mornin’?”

Twilight nodded, “He had a cold back in October, but I’ve never seen him like this. Do you know what might be wrong with him?”

“Ah wanna check one more thing,” he said as he opened a box of surgical needles. After picking one, he looked over to be sure that Beethoven was looking at the scroll. “Sir, Ah want ta draw a little bit of your blood. If Ah could see yer foreleg if you please, Ah’ll make this as quickly as possible so Ah can make mah diagnosis.”

Once this was accomplished, the doctor looked at the blood sample under a microscope and was running a spell all the while. “Yep, he may have a different body then us ponies, but Ah think Ah know what’s wrong.”

“Why?” Twilight asked, “What does he have?”

“Since his blood has a high content of white blood cells, and given all the symptoms, Ah concur that he has appendicitis. That means yer friend needs ta get to a real hospital immediately fer surgery. Since we haven’t exactly set one up here in Appaloosa, he hasta to either go to Applewood or Ponyville to get ‘em treated. The sooner we get him over there, the less likely that it would rapture, and if it does, then he’s in serious trouble.”

“Good Celestia,” Twilight sighed as she went over to the old man. “Ludwig, we need to get you to Ponyville right now. I’ll get your things and send a telegram to the doctors in Ponyville that you need to undergo surgery.”

“Surgery?” Beethoven repeated and Twilight nodded, “Hundesohn!” he said before he lost his entire breakfast in a trashcan.

“In the meantime,” the doctor added, “Try ta make sure that he lays down on the way there. Ah know the railroad isn’t exactly smooth, but Ah would recommend that shouldn’t try move around as much as possible.”

“Oh süßer Jesus, ich werde sowieso sterben.” Ludwig muttered, “You said surgery? They’re going to cut me up?”

“Yer appendix needs ta be removed as soon as possible. But don’t worry any, Ah’ve heard good things comin’ from the surgeons in Ponyville. It’s one of the most common and safest procedures out there.”

At this, Beethoven laughed and both the doctor and Twilight wondered why he’s laughing. “In Europe, my people tried to avoid surgery if they can because doing so was deadly. Even from pulling teeth by careless doctors! You said so yourself Herr Doctor, you’ve n- owe! Never seen the likes of me, how do I know I won’t end up dead?”

“Well,” the Appaloosian unicorn replied, “in a proper hospital like the one in Ponyville, they have x-rays and scans in which doctors can look into yer body without physically opening it up. From there, they can make a plan of usin’ the techniques they know and accommodate it to yer unique body. But Ah think we’ve waited enough time, Y'all need to get on the earliest train arrivin’. Oh, one more thing, Ah think it would be a good idea that you go on a fast from here on out. So don’t eat but drink plenty of water before the surgery.”

_*_

“This is torture!” Ludwig complained. He was lying on the floor of a private car since the seating was far too small for him to lie down flat. However, with every jolt of the car, Beethoven’s insides moved around too, causing him more pain. “I won’t be surprised if I end up dead by the time we get to Ponyville.”

Twilight’s ears folded back. By now (and thanks to her for giving the engineer the order to go as fast as reasonably possible) they were headed their way back towards Ponyville where they expect a cart that will drop the composer to the hospital. Until then, even with her extended knowledge, she wasn’t exactly sure on what kind of spells to use to help ease Ludwig’s pain. After all, she may be a Princess and a Librarian, but she was by no means a doctor of medicine.

Her ears did perk up when she heard a knock on the door, it sided open in which she spotted Octavia and Vinyl, “Pardon us, Your Majesty,” the gray mare asked, “May we come in?”

“Just Twilight,” she corrected, “and yes you may, but watch out for Ludwig.”

The two mares carefully stepped around the giant so that they wouldn’t step on him. They sat on the other side from twilight’s seat.

“I’m going to go straight to the point,” Octavia says. “The orchestra is worried about Mr. Beethoven, and so are we. Is there something we could do?”

Twilight shook her head, “Until we get to Ponyville, there’s hardly anything anypony can do. He’s already in enough pain as it is without the train bumping on the tracks.”

Vinyl lit up her horn and pulled out a notepad in which she wrote down the following message:

Isn’t the big guy going to be okay?

“I… I hope so,” the lilac alicorn offered a reassuring smile, “Once we get into town and to the hospital for the doctors to perform the surgery, he should be alright.”

“But this train probably won’t be able to make it there until later tonight,” the Cellist pointed out. “Are you absolutely sure there’s not a thing any of us can do Princess? We could gather up some of the cushions from the train for him to lie down on.”

“What are the three of you talking about?” Beethoven moaned, “I hope you’re not plotting on throwing me off the train in this condition.”

Vinyl scratched down a quick message on her notepad.

No, we wanted to see how you’re doing; by the way, do you need anything?

“Unless you know how to relief the stones that are pulverizing my insides into soup, I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” there was another jerk from the train car to which Ludwig groaned. “I can’t believe it, I’m going to die.”

Wide-eyed, Octavia looked up at Twilight, “He can’t be surely!”

“From what the doctor back in Appaloosa has told me,” the Princess said, “since he felt the early signs this morning, he should be fine as soon as the surgeons in Ponyville do the surgery on him. I’ve already sent a telegram over to the hospital to give them a heads up as to what to expect.”

Another painful moan as Beethoven clenched his abdomen, “I’m going to die here. Far away from home with so much left unfinished. Dear God, I haven’t done nearly enough for the name of art.”

This comment surprised everypony in that car. Vinyl wrote down everyone’s thoughts.

Dude! What in Equestria are you talking about? You’ve written really good music, and coming from a mare that doesn’t listen to that much classical, that says a lot!

“Ah yes,” Ludwig said sarcastically, “Beethoven can write music, thank God, but he is completely useless on earth. I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t drink the pain away, can’t compose, can’t play, can’t hear and can’t sh-” another jolt from the tracks that made the giant hiss.

“Vinyl,” Octavia said, “Ask him if there’s something that we can do, does he need cushions to lie down on or what?”

The unicorn transcribed her roommate’s question onto the notepad and showed it to Ludwig.

“I’ll take anything just so I won’t have to hurt this much,” Beethoven told them. Sometime later, the two of them return with several dozens of seat cushions from the train in which they constructed a crude padded bed for the giant to lay on. With a little help from Twilight of lifting and placing him on the cushions before he added, “Thank you, is there any water?”

While Octavia left to fetch him, pitcher, to drink from, Vinyl stayed behind, writing something down on her notepad before tearing the yellow page out and gave it to him.

Don’t tell Octie I said this, but ever since you came here, you have been an influence in more ways than one. Before, I thought that Classical was for old ponies that were meant to help them fall asleep and that I knew what real music was. But when you came with your songs, you’ve made everypony, including me, looked at music in a whole new way. In other words, you made classical come alive. Like that last symphony, I heard a few days ago, that was incredible! I didn’t know anypony could write anything like that! You singlehoofenly turned the Music Industry on its head in ways nopony would expect. Plus, you were a badflank when you called out Prince Blueblood for what he was! That and you were able to win a battle of the bands with nothing but an orchestra and my equipment, who could have foreseen that? What I’m trying to say, is that Equestria needs this music, and we need you! Please, don’t die on us.

By the time Octavia came back with a pitcher of water, Beethoven gulp some down before facing the white unicorn, “I will not make any promises if I don’t know if I can keep.”

_*_

That evening, at the train station, a team of doctors and nurses were waiting next to a cart to carry the giant in. When the locomotive pulled up to the station, the doctors immediately sprang into action as they carried a larger-than-normal stretcher, “Where is Mr. Beethoven?” one of them asked the passengers before they were pointed to the car that the composer was in. With the help of Twilight, they lifted the old man onto the stretcher in order for him to be carried out onto the white cart.

“Use this to communicate with him,” the Princess gave one of them the magic scroll. “Remember, he’s deaf, so whatever you have to tell him, make sure he sees this before any of you talk.”

“Has he eaten anything along the way here?” another doctor inquired. Twilight filled in the doctor’s quick questions before they loaded him into the cart - not taking notice of a darting shadow that went underneath. Satisfied with the answers, the doctors now began their gallop towards the hospital while two sat beside Beethoven: one of them to ring the bell to get other ponies out of the way, while the other sat next to the giant.

After unrolling the scroll and holding it over Beethoven’s face, he tells him, “Don’t worry sir, once we get a few scans from you, we’ll be sure to get to work immediately to remove your appendix. Of course, we’ll be using some anesthetic to put you under. We’ll be measuring your vital signs all the while when an anesthesiologist looks over you to see that you won’t feel any pain when this is through. Now, before we get to the operation, we’ll have you know that we’ll make a very small incision to where the appendix is located so we can remove it and stitch you back up. Although, since this will be the first surgery where we’ll be doing it on a human, we’re going to have you stay at the hospital for a while until we see you fit enough to leave. Any questions?”

Beethoven blinked, “I’m the first human to be performed surgery on?” the doctor by his side nodded, “Then what are my chances of living?”

Chapter 52: Horseshoe’s Visit in G Major.

Inside Beethoven’s head, a battle was raging in his imagination. A staccato beat of the timpani echoes the running of warriors with razor-sharp clarinets, a rain of arrows falls from the sky from the pizzicato of the violins, shrieking violas and the impact of the cellos and double basses. With a pencil, he captured the feminine wails of the flutes, the battle cry of the trumpet, and the falling of bodies from the tumbling piano. Yes! How else to make this symphony different from all the rest than to have the piano play a role in this last movement? Sure, he could use the harp, but Ludwig knew that it wouldn’t be enough. A Harpsichord wouldn’t fit, and the organ would take up too much room.

Key signatures and time-shifted with the ever-changing mood. Going forwards and backwards on both Major and Minor circles of fifths, B-flat minor jumps to C-minor, then to A-flat Major to D Major in an instant. Common time to two-thirds, to three-quarter time to two-sixths, Ludwig was no longer confined to a steady beat or rhythm. His imagination was liberated to every musical color that no other composer ever dared to create. And Beethoven loved it!

So much so, that he didn’t notice the door to his apartment opening. “Mr. Beethoven?” At his piano with sketches for the final movement lay about on the floor and his bed, the pony that entered called out again, but got the same response. The stallion walked in, stomping his hooves in hopes to get his attention, however, the giant went on scribbling and mumbling.

Ludwig did look up when he noticed that there were two sharp knocks on the piano, he sat up. “Herr Horseshoepin?” The stallion nodded, “Wait, before you start talking, let me get that scroll… Jetzt wo habe ich das Ding hin?”

The composer got up from his seat over the bed towards his overcoats, searching through their pockets before finding the magic scroll, “Now then, doubting Frederic,” he said as he unrolled the enchanted parchment onto the piano. “What brings you here?”

Horseshoepin frowned, “You’re not going to let that nickname go, aren’t you?”

“No, I will not, now why are you here? I was in the middle of writing something brilliant.”

“Simply put,” the light brown Earth Pony sat down, letting his saddlebag slide off. “I’m here to talk to you about a couple of things. So first off, I’ve volunteered to play a part in that Choral Fantasy piece next month.”

“Really?” Ludwig raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be playing?”

He nodded, “I’ve started practicing a couple weeks ago, and although I believe that I can play it, I might need a few pointers on some of the passages in the score. In fact, I’ve brought my copy with me to go over with you. But before we can get to that, I need some advice on a secret project I’m working on, my first piano concerto to be exact.”

“Do you have both of them?” Ludwig inquired and the Pianist nodded as he pulls one manuscript at a time out from his bags. He handed the composer his concerto first in which the giant started to flip through it. “This is your work?” Beethoven inquired.

“It is meastro,” Frederic told him. “It’s something that I’ve never shown to anypony until now.”

Beethoven looked at the manuscript before him in the stallion’s writing. Flipping through the first movement of Horseshoepin’s music, he shook his head before he skipped towards the second movement in hopes to find something interesting. At the slower movement, he stood up, “Now this is interesting…” he muttered, getting the Pianist’s hopes up. The old man started walking around the room, with one arm holding up the bounded score and the other to tap his fingers on the pages as if he were playing, he scanned the stallion’s music. “It has the sense of a love poem without words.”

After Ludwig gone through the third movement, he turned to the Pianist, “Your first and third movements are forgettable, but the only redeeming grace from this is the Largo. Out of all of this, the second movement would be the most memorable. By itself, it is perfect.”

“What were-” Frederic began but realized that the old man can’t hear him. So he hopped on the bed to reach for the scroll to show it to him. “What was wrong with the other two movements?”

“They were not clear on what they wanted to be,” he said as he tossed the bounded tome on the bed next to the stallion. “Unlike the Largo, they were unbalanced, focused too much on technique then giving it a soul. The second one, however, is perfect. It has grace, enormous emotion, passion, balance, and as I said before, it was like a love ballad without words. That alone would be enough; it doesn’t need the other two.”

Horseshoepin flipped his music over to the second movement, while Beethoven took the scroll into his own hands. “So just play the Largo? Huh… That’s disappointing… but understandable. I remembered back when I wrote this when I was still in my home country.”

This got Ludwig’s attention, “Your home country?”

“In other words,” Frederic clarified, “I wasn’t born here. Actually, I looked here for asylum since mine is still too dangerous to go back to.” The Pianist shook his head, “I guess, in a way, we’re in the same boat, only that I… envy you for more than one reason.”

Now Beethoven’s curiosity was piqued. “How long have you been away from your homeland?”

“As of now?” Horseshoepin thought about it for a moment, “About eight or nine years. I’ve spent that time playing for rich ponies and performing at the Philharmonic. I guess it’s only known that I’m seriously considering composing more than a hobby with me starting to publish my works. All to keep me busy…” he sighed, “Though I still miss living in Ponyland. It’s pretty much on the other side of the world, but on most days… I tend to miss the country festivals, weddings, the great forests, and ancient cities. But above all, I miss the ponies there. My parents, relatives, brothers, and sisters… even the mare I had a crush on.”

“A what?” Ludwig asked.

Frederic picked up the score, “When I wrote this, I was in love for the first time. You were right; it was a kind of love letter in disguise. At the conservatory in Warsaw, I’ve met a mare that was just as good, if not, a better Pianist than I was. I was so beneath her, but she was so nice to me that when I was starting to write my own music… I had her in mind when I wrote this. But when the revolution broke out, I had to flee the country, taking my music, and an urn of earth of the country I love so much.

“I guess you can see why I envy you. At least there’s a chance you may go back to where you came from, while I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see mine again.”

Ludwig looked up from the scroll, “As this Fräulein of yours ever heard any of your music?” He shook his head. “You’re not the only one that has dedicated music to a woman.”

Horseshoepin looked up. “What do you mean?”

“In my youth,” Beethoven went around and sat at the piano. “I had fallen in love more times than I could count. All of them were countesses or some other aristocrats that I teach or play for. Many pieces for the piano I wrote for. In Vienna, I used my talent to woo a room full of women to the poetry of my music, even moved them to tears.”

The old man felt a tap on his sleeve, and looked over to the scroll when Frederic said, “Can I ask you a personal question? Are you married?”

Ludwig laughed bitterly, “Do you really think any woman would want a deaf man to be their husband? No, I never was married –although I had tried to propose a few times.”

“I see… but do you have somepony special waiting for you in your home country?” The giant frowned, looked down at the stallion sharply. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Let me see the other score,” the old man reached for the copy of his fantasy and opened it. Looking at the piano parts, he saw that there were some notes that were etched into the paper of where to put one’s hooves for example. He also noticed that some passages were circled in pencil with question marks above them. “Ms. Melody is in town, is she not?” Beethoven asked as he kept flipping through the score.

“I think…” Horseshoepin began but quickly remembered that the giant can’t hear him. So reaching for some scratch paper and a pencil, he wrote his response down and put the note in his line of vision.

“You think so?” Beethoven read when he suddenly got up, “Time to go.” He said as he went to get his coat, composition book, and the scroll.

For a moment, the Pianist was confused, until he remembered the equipment that was at Octavia and DJ Pon3’s cottage. He quickly assumed that meant he wants to play it for him. So after gathering up his belongings and waited for the giant to get ready, the two of them set out into the street.

Ludwig, all the while, took out his composition book and started jotting down or scratching out some notes. “I am missing someone other than my nephew.”

“Huh?” Frederic looked up at him with confusion on his face.

The composer continued, “There is a woman in Vienna that has remained loyal to me after all these years. Even when I couldn’t hear anymore, we still send letters to one another. I would gladly propose to her if she wasn’t already married and was in love with me. Then again, I guess she wouldn’t want to lose her position to someone like me.”

This got the stallion curious, pulling on his coattails, he mouthed slowly, “What… was… she… like?”

“Aside from beauty and grace,” Ludwig said as he continued to compose. “The Countess that I knew loved every note of music I produce. Every symphony, concerto, sonata and quartet, she admired the talent I have. Perhaps the only woman that I know that I could have a conversation with that knows about the virtue of Bach and Haydn. She has been reading more, or at least, what she last told me. I think she said something about reading Gulliver’s Travels for the first time. She is very generous, kind, and patient, even when I wasn’t. Although she does not feel the same way as I do, she doesn’t mind that I send her love letters.” He said as he muttered, “Meine Engel, meine Unsterbliche Geliebte.”

Beethoven looked down, and judging by the look that the stallion was giving him, he pulled out the scroll and unrolled it onto the book. “Have you ever written anything for this Countess?” Horseshoepin asked.

“I’ve been putting together a series of string quartets,” Ludwig explained. “Once I finish this symphony and go home, I’ll be polishing up my string pieces, adding new movements and dedicating the work to her.”

“What’s her-” the Pianist was about to ask but a gust of wind blew unexpectedly and the scroll flew off the composition book. Frederic immediately went galloping after it; luckily he was able to put his hoof on it before the wind could carry it away. Picking it up in his mouth, he brought it back to the giant.

“Danken,” he said as he snatched it up and put it into his pocket. “Let us hurry along. The sooner I hear what you have so far, the sooner I can return to work.” Then he added, “While I’m over there, I assume I have to record the poem in the fantasy for the choir’s sake.”