//------------------------------// // Chapter 43: Violin Audition in F # Major. // Story: Beethoven's Tenth // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// “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.