Beethoven's Tenth

by CrackedInkWell


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.