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.”