//------------------------------// // Chapter 30: Little Strongheart in B b minor. // Story: Beethoven's Tenth // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// With joy in their hearts, the Philharmonic, Beethoven, and Princess Twilight began their return journey to Ponyville and Canterlot. Once again, they stopped in Appaloosa to spend the night before making the trip the next morning. After giving the news that Ludwig won the contest, the townfolks threw him and the orchestra a party at the Salt Lick. Ludwig sat in the very back, with his composition book open, his mind tried once again to plan out how to piece together the last movement. He looked on how to put the music together in his mind, putting his imagination into overdrive. Out of all the movements of his tenth, this one proved to be the most difficult. How exactly does he compose music that goes beyond not just the music he knew, but even further then Equestria’s? What themes would he use? How would he use them? Suddenly he felt a tap in which made him look up from the low table he sat by. There was Braeburn again, this time he had a smaller buffalo next to him. She had on a headband of white and purple triangles with two eagle feathers sticking out behind her head. “Wait a moment,” Beethoven said before he took out the magic scroll, unrolled it and placed it on the table. “Now talk. Who is this?” “Sir,” Braeburn spoke, “Princess Twilight told me that you’ve never known or met another buffalo before. So, she and Ah thought it would be a good idea to introduce ya to a good friend, and ally of mine. Little Strongheart of the Buffalo tribe, and also the daughter of Chief Thunderhooves.” “You must be the Giant of Ponyville that I’ve heard about,” Strongheart said. “The ponies in this town have talked about the music you and this orchestra played together, and that they quite enjoyed it.” Ludwig nodded, “Thank you little one. Though I must correct you one something – I am only human, not a giant.” “Oh… then what are you?” “A person, but I understand why ponies in this land have called me that since, to me, most of you appear small in my eyes.” Beethoven looked up at her once more, “I don’t think I saw you the last time, are you from this town?” She shook her head, “Not really. My tribe has a tendency of moving place to place, but Appaloosa is close to our stampeding grounds. The village I live in is still quite a ways away from here, so forgive me if I’ve missed the rehearsal of your music.” The chief’s daughter looked over onto the blank pages of the composition book, “Are we interrupting something?” Ludwig shook his head, “No. I’m just thinking something through before I start writing. Only it seems that I’ve run into a barrier that I’m not sure how to overcome it.” “You’re tryin’ ta write new music?” Braeburn asked. “That’s precisely the problem,” Ludwig put down his pencil. “I have a million ideas and have no direction where to go. Out of all the movements of this new symphony, with perhaps hundreds of sketches, I have been looking at this page for months and still have no idea how to begin it. I had in mind of composing a symphony that would tell the story of music’s past, present, and future, but it is the latter part that I don’t know where to start.” Both Braeburn and Strongheart looked at one another for a moment before taking a seat across from the old man. “Excuse us, Mr. Beethoven,” the cowpony said, “But what do ya mean when ya said ‘future?’” He looked up at both of them, and instead of answering the question, he asked, “How well trained are you two in music?” “Well… Ah can play the fiddle,” Braeburn confessed. “And I know my tribes chants for whatever occasion,” Strongheart told him before adding, “Why?” “I am asking because only a fellow musician would understand my predicament. You see… we know that in music, there are certain rules that we all follow; rules that have slowly changed over time to become more complex than its predecessor. Of course, I have revolutionized music, both in Austria and here again in Equestria. However, with my new symphony, I want to give a vision of what music can become in the distant future. How would the relationship between harmonies and keys be governed beyond the progression circle of fifths? What rhythms and melodies would be used to create new sounds that haven’t been thought up before? How do I go beyond the idea of what, as you may say, classical music could grow up to be when it hasn’t happened yet?” The chief’s daughter put her hoof to her chin, “Or maybe, you need a different perspective?” Beethoven tilted his head, “I don’t follow.” “In the tribe, I grew up in, we have a few sayings. One of them being: ‘The only way that a mountain can change is when one makes the effort to stand in a different spot.’ While the mountain itself doesn’t change by its very nature, the way we view it does if we decided to look at it from a different way. Like music, while the very idea of using sound to… what’s the word? Convey an idea by song, so can you play the same thing on a drum or a fiddle. The music I’m familiar with is traditional, passed down by word of mouth, and the tunes we chant is said to be older the Equestria itself!” Ludwig looked up from the scroll with a raised eyebrow, “Your music is older?” Strongheart nodded, “Our chants haven’t changed much, if at all. During the winter months, we do our best to make sure we all memorize them by heart so that we can pass it down to the next generation such as we’ve done for thousands of years. Of course, we have our own voices, drums, rattles, whistles and pan flutes for our rituals both public and secret, but try to imagine that excitement of such songs in your own orchestra. How do you think it would sound?” “How would I know,” Beethoven pointed at his ear, “I can’t hear anything.” “But that ain’t true,” Braeburn said. “You’ve used those headphone things ta hear the vibrations. So do y’all think that if we put their chants on a record, that yous might be able to hear it?” Ludwig leaned back in his seat, “What is exactly is the point of this? How can I write about music of the future from tribal chants?” “Ah think Ah know where she’s goin’ with this,” the cowpony said. “If Ah got this right, she’s suggestin’ that the key to this new music you’re tryin’ ta write is in the distant past. Perhaps, if ya take a listen to her music, and try to get the feel of it into an orchestra, then you might go so far back that you’ll end up goin’ forward.” “Exactly!” Strongheart nodded, “Besides, I’m more than willing to educate others about our culture. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, maybe the music of my tribe would give you the inspiration that you need. Nopony has ever come to us to study how our chants work, so you might be the first to learn something from us.” Beethoven thought for a minute. While he has been taught the classical traditions of Bach, Mozart, Salieri, and Haydn, the idea of learning techniques from a completely different culture was an interesting one. After all, he had studied the ancient modes that made up the Gregorian chants, what secrets does this tribe have that the rest of the world will benefit? “If I get a recording,” he said, “then I might see what I can make from it.” Strongheart smiled, “That’s great news. I’ll try to make some arrangements to have some of my tribe record our public chants by the time Hearths Warming comes around. And hey! Maybe I can finally convince Braeburn to record that music you wrote.” This time, Ludwig’s attention turned to the yellow cowpony, “Really? Which one?” “Strongheart!” Braeburn turned to his friend, “Don’t bring it up.” “Well, why not?” the chief’s daughter replied, “It’s true that you are playing a piece that he wrote.” “Ah ain’t good at it.” “Uh, yes you are, I heard it.” “What? Since when?” “From that time-” it was as far as Strongheart got before Ludwig slammed a hand on the table. “Stop dancing around the question!” Ludwig snapped. “What piece?” Braeburn gulped, “It’s… uh… a-a single movement… from a violin sonata.” “Which one?” “N-Number nine… Ah think.” This took Ludwig by surprise, “The Kreutzer? You are playing that?” The cowpony blinked, “Uh… yeah?” “An advance piece… How long have you played the violin?” “Ten years, give-or-take.” “Now I’m curious,” Ludwig stated. “Are you any good?” “Ah’m okay-” “Oh don’t be so modest,” Strongheart playfully punched Braeburn’s foreleg. “I think you’re good at it.” “It’s only a hobby.” “Even so,” Ludwig said, “I would be interested in hearing it. If you are good at it… perhaps I could recruit you.” Both Buffalo and earth pony tilted their heads in confusion, “Pardon?” they both asked. “Apart from the Tenth Symphony, I’m putting together some sketches for string quartets. I want them to be played right here in Equestria, and I want the finest musicians there are. A quartet that is made up of the traditional two violins, a viola and cello – and if you’re recording is at all any good, perhaps I could have you play a part in it.” “Wow,” Braeburn sighed, “Playin’ fer Beethoven… Well… Ah’ll have ta think it over.” Ludwig understood. _*_ It wasn’t until Beethoven woke up that he felt something was wrong. At first, he tried to ignore the dull pain in his stomach by trying to go back to sleep, but it didn’t go away. When he rolled over on his makeshift bed, the pain intensified a little. “Was ist los?” he asked himself as he put a hand over his stomach. As he got up and walked around, he felt a secondary pain on the lower right of his abdomen along with the empty feeling in his stomach. At first, he thought it was gas, but when he passes it, the pain was still there. He then went to his bag in which he drew out a small loaf of bread, and after a few bites, it didn’t help. Even after he visited the toilet, the pain was persistent, and at times the pain moved from one side of his abdomen to the other. He even tried laying down, but again, no matter what he did, it only made him feel sick like he was about to vomit at any moment. So putting a shirt on and grabbing the magic scroll, Ludwig crawled out of his little hotel room and went straight to Princess Twilight’s. After banging on it a few times, she opened the door with bags under her eyes and a messy mane. Ludwig wasted no time in telling her, “I think something is wrong with me. Where is the doctor?”