//------------------------------// // Chapter 52: Horseshoe’s Visit in G Major. // Story: Beethoven's Tenth // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// Inside Beethoven’s head, a battle was raging in his imagination. A staccato beat of the timpani echoes the running of warriors with razor-sharp clarinets, a rain of arrows falls from the sky from the pizzicato of the violins, shrieking violas and the impact of the cellos and double basses. With a pencil, he captured the feminine wails of the flutes, the battle cry of the trumpet, and the falling of bodies from the tumbling piano. Yes! How else to make this symphony different from all the rest than to have the piano play a role in this last movement? Sure, he could use the harp, but Ludwig knew that it wouldn’t be enough. A Harpsichord wouldn’t fit, and the organ would take up too much room. Key signatures and time-shifted with the ever-changing mood. Going forwards and backwards on both Major and Minor circles of fifths, B-flat minor jumps to C-minor, then to A-flat Major to D Major in an instant. Common time to two-thirds, to three-quarter time to two-sixths, Ludwig was no longer confined to a steady beat or rhythm. His imagination was liberated to every musical color that no other composer ever dared to create. And Beethoven loved it! So much so, that he didn’t notice the door to his apartment opening. “Mr. Beethoven?” At his piano with sketches for the final movement lay about on the floor and his bed, the pony that entered called out again, but got the same response. The stallion walked in, stomping his hooves in hopes to get his attention, however, the giant went on scribbling and mumbling. Ludwig did look up when he noticed that there were two sharp knocks on the piano, he sat up. “Herr Horseshoepin?” The stallion nodded, “Wait, before you start talking, let me get that scroll… Jetzt wo habe ich das Ding hin?” The composer got up from his seat over the bed towards his overcoats, searching through their pockets before finding the magic scroll, “Now then, doubting Frederic,” he said as he unrolled the enchanted parchment onto the piano. “What brings you here?” Horseshoepin frowned, “You’re not going to let that nickname go, aren’t you?” “No, I will not, now why are you here? I was in the middle of writing something brilliant.” “Simply put,” the light brown Earth Pony sat down, letting his saddlebag slide off. “I’m here to talk to you about a couple of things. So first off, I’ve volunteered to play a part in that Choral Fantasy piece next month.” “Really?” Ludwig raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be playing?” He nodded, “I’ve started practicing a couple weeks ago, and although I believe that I can play it, I might need a few pointers on some of the passages in the score. In fact, I’ve brought my copy with me to go over with you. But before we can get to that, I need some advice on a secret project I’m working on, my first piano concerto to be exact.” “Do you have both of them?” Ludwig inquired and the Pianist nodded as he pulls one manuscript at a time out from his bags. He handed the composer his concerto first in which the giant started to flip through it. “This is your work?” Beethoven inquired. “It is meastro,” Frederic told him. “It’s something that I’ve never shown to anypony until now.” Beethoven looked at the manuscript before him in the stallion’s writing. Flipping through the first movement of Horseshoepin’s music, he shook his head before he skipped towards the second movement in hopes to find something interesting. At the slower movement, he stood up, “Now this is interesting…” he muttered, getting the Pianist’s hopes up. The old man started walking around the room, with one arm holding up the bounded score and the other to tap his fingers on the pages as if he were playing, he scanned the stallion’s music. “It has the sense of a love poem without words.” After Ludwig gone through the third movement, he turned to the Pianist, “Your first and third movements are forgettable, but the only redeeming grace from this is the Largo. Out of all of this, the second movement would be the most memorable. By itself, it is perfect.” “What were-” Frederic began but realized that the old man can’t hear him. So he hopped on the bed to reach for the scroll to show it to him. “What was wrong with the other two movements?” “They were not clear on what they wanted to be,” he said as he tossed the bounded tome on the bed next to the stallion. “Unlike the Largo, they were unbalanced, focused too much on technique then giving it a soul. The second one, however, is perfect. It has grace, enormous emotion, passion, balance, and as I said before, it was like a love ballad without words. That alone would be enough; it doesn’t need the other two.” Horseshoepin flipped his music over to the second movement, while Beethoven took the scroll into his own hands. “So just play the Largo? Huh… That’s disappointing… but understandable. I remembered back when I wrote this when I was still in my home country.” This got Ludwig’s attention, “Your home country?” “In other words,” Frederic clarified, “I wasn’t born here. Actually, I looked here for asylum since mine is still too dangerous to go back to.” The Pianist shook his head, “I guess, in a way, we’re in the same boat, only that I… envy you for more than one reason.” Now Beethoven’s curiosity was piqued. “How long have you been away from your homeland?” “As of now?” Horseshoepin thought about it for a moment, “About eight or nine years. I’ve spent that time playing for rich ponies and performing at the Philharmonic. I guess it’s only known that I’m seriously considering composing more than a hobby with me starting to publish my works. All to keep me busy…” he sighed, “Though I still miss living in Ponyland. It’s pretty much on the other side of the world, but on most days… I tend to miss the country festivals, weddings, the great forests, and ancient cities. But above all, I miss the ponies there. My parents, relatives, brothers, and sisters… even the mare I had a crush on.” “A what?” Ludwig asked. Frederic picked up the score, “When I wrote this, I was in love for the first time. You were right; it was a kind of love letter in disguise. At the conservatory in Warsaw, I’ve met a mare that was just as good, if not, a better Pianist than I was. I was so beneath her, but she was so nice to me that when I was starting to write my own music… I had her in mind when I wrote this. But when the revolution broke out, I had to flee the country, taking my music, and an urn of earth of the country I love so much. “I guess you can see why I envy you. At least there’s a chance you may go back to where you came from, while I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see mine again.” Ludwig looked up from the scroll, “As this Fräulein of yours ever heard any of your music?” He shook his head. “You’re not the only one that has dedicated music to a woman.” Horseshoepin looked up. “What do you mean?” “In my youth,” Beethoven went around and sat at the piano. “I had fallen in love more times than I could count. All of them were countesses or some other aristocrats that I teach or play for. Many pieces for the piano I wrote for. In Vienna, I used my talent to woo a room full of women to the poetry of my music, even moved them to tears.” The old man felt a tap on his sleeve, and looked over to the scroll when Frederic said, “Can I ask you a personal question? Are you married?” Ludwig laughed bitterly, “Do you really think any woman would want a deaf man to be their husband? No, I never was married –although I had tried to propose a few times.” “I see… but do you have somepony special waiting for you in your home country?” The giant frowned, looked down at the stallion sharply. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked.” “Let me see the other score,” the old man reached for the copy of his fantasy and opened it. Looking at the piano parts, he saw that there were some notes that were etched into the paper of where to put one’s hooves for example. He also noticed that some passages were circled in pencil with question marks above them. “Ms. Melody is in town, is she not?” Beethoven asked as he kept flipping through the score. “I think…” Horseshoepin began but quickly remembered that the giant can’t hear him. So reaching for some scratch paper and a pencil, he wrote his response down and put the note in his line of vision. “You think so?” Beethoven read when he suddenly got up, “Time to go.” He said as he went to get his coat, composition book, and the scroll. For a moment, the Pianist was confused, until he remembered the equipment that was at Octavia and DJ Pon3’s cottage. He quickly assumed that meant he wants to play it for him. So after gathering up his belongings and waited for the giant to get ready, the two of them set out into the street. Ludwig, all the while, took out his composition book and started jotting down or scratching out some notes. “I am missing someone other than my nephew.” “Huh?” Frederic looked up at him with confusion on his face. The composer continued, “There is a woman in Vienna that has remained loyal to me after all these years. Even when I couldn’t hear anymore, we still send letters to one another. I would gladly propose to her if she wasn’t already married and was in love with me. Then again, I guess she wouldn’t want to lose her position to someone like me.” This got the stallion curious, pulling on his coattails, he mouthed slowly, “What… was… she… like?” “Aside from beauty and grace,” Ludwig said as he continued to compose. “The Countess that I knew loved every note of music I produce. Every symphony, concerto, sonata and quartet, she admired the talent I have. Perhaps the only woman that I know that I could have a conversation with that knows about the virtue of Bach and Haydn. She has been reading more, or at least, what she last told me. I think she said something about reading Gulliver’s Travels for the first time. She is very generous, kind, and patient, even when I wasn’t. Although she does not feel the same way as I do, she doesn’t mind that I send her love letters.” He said as he muttered, “Meine Engel, meine Unsterbliche Geliebte.” Beethoven looked down, and judging by the look that the stallion was giving him, he pulled out the scroll and unrolled it onto the book. “Have you ever written anything for this Countess?” Horseshoepin asked. “I’ve been putting together a series of string quartets,” Ludwig explained. “Once I finish this symphony and go home, I’ll be polishing up my string pieces, adding new movements and dedicating the work to her.” “What’s her-” the Pianist was about to ask but a gust of wind blew unexpectedly and the scroll flew off the composition book. Frederic immediately went galloping after it; luckily he was able to put his hoof on it before the wind could carry it away. Picking it up in his mouth, he brought it back to the giant. “Danken,” he said as he snatched it up and put it into his pocket. “Let us hurry along. The sooner I hear what you have so far, the sooner I can return to work.” Then he added, “While I’m over there, I assume I have to record the poem in the fantasy for the choir’s sake.”