The Best Type of Harmony

by Cheshire Cat

Rating: everyone
Tags: Random
Length: 636

Harmony Horseshoepin, daughter of the famed violinist Frederic Horseshoepin, just wishes to be loved. Her wish of become a known cellist seems to be sinking into the depths of the Everfree Forest, and she fears that it will never be found again. But when a strange mare comes into the picture, hoping for a friend, Harmony just may find the hope and courage to do what she loves best.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-04 01:48:59 UTC

Chapter One

Harmony Horseshoepin paced her room, muttering rapidly to herself. Her dark gray mane was mussed, a result of the laying in bed, wide awake that she had been doing before deciding to stand. While the majority of her quiet words were incomprehensible, the words bothersome fathers did pop up here and there.

Harmony's prized cello stood propped up against her bed. Her mother had given it to her for her birthday, when they had deemed her trustworthy enough to care for her own cello. It was a beautiful instrument, well made, and old.

"Take good care of it," Octavia had said, gently. "It was my first-- and most prized-- instrument. Now it will be yours." With that, she had pressed her cheek against her daughters, letting it rest there a moment, before pulling away. Harmony had never felt that expanse of emotion from her mother before. It was a strange feeling, but a comforting one.

Harmony had not given those words a second thought, she had been so caught up in the moment. Now she thought of her mother's words again, having wondered about it before, pondering them. Octavia had seemed so sad, which was unusual for the seemingly unfeeling pony. It had been her prized cello, concluded Harmony, so of course she would be sorry to see it go. The cello's unique mahogany polish gleamed in the moonlight, and Harmony stopped her pacing to gaze at it thoughtfully.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. A sudden idea had struck her-- and idea for a new composition for her cello. Harmony trotted to her bedside table, where she kept a stack of paper and a quill. Her pale green magic enveloped the writing utensil and began scratching away. After a few minutes, she regarded the music carefully.

"Maybe... Just maybe..." Harmony's green eyes narrowed in thought.  The rest of her conclusion was not heard, however, for a sudden knock at the door made her jump to her hooves. A glance around her cluttered room made the cellist let out an audible groan, but she made her way towards the sound nonetheless.

"Hello?" Harmony pushed open the door with one hoof.

"Harmony?" A dark blue mare stood in the doorway. Her green eyes looked confused, and her head was tilted slightly to the left. "What in all of Equestria are you doing this time of night?"

"Oh," the late-nighter gave her sister a sheepish look. "I was just composing a new piece for my cello, and I guess I lost track of the time... Sorry, Aria."

Aria smiled softly. "That's quite all right. Just.. please try not to make so much noise. I could hear your muttering from my bedroom."

Harmony blushed, embarrassed. "Was I really that loud?" she asked. "I'm terribly sorry. I'll try not to do it again."

The mare took in her younger sister's eyes-- red from lack of sleep-- and frowned. "Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned. "You know, if anything's bothering you, that I'm here for you."

The overtired cellist shook her head vigorously. "No, no, I'm fine, Aria, really." She looked at her sister's tired, drooping face and nudged her in the direction of her room. "Now, off to bed. You look exhausted!" Ignoring the feeble protests from Aria, Harmony continued to forcibly shove her sister down the hall. Aria finally consented and slumped off. Harmony smiled at her retreating back, and then ducked back in to her music.

___________________________________________________________

Morning. The time of day that Harmony disliked most. Having worked on her music for the majority of the night, and slept very little, waking was just about the toughest thing that she had done.

She wrenched her eyes open. The daylight streaming in through the window felt like fire to her eyes, much too used to the familiar darkness.