//------------------------------//
// Chapter 60: Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Beethoven in F minor. 
// Story: Beethoven's Tenth 
// by CrackedInkWell 
//------------------------------//

“So how much further is it?”

Twilight looked over her shoulder at the enormous group of volunteers that were carrying Beethoven’s things. Whatever carts that could be spared they brought with them to hull the enormous furniture along with the scraps of paper that Ludwig had written on. The group of ponies that were following Princess Twilight all morning had trudged through the Whitetail Woods on that cool summer’s morning. And as the anniversary of when the old man was discovered was tomorrow, so the Princess thought it was appropriate to have Mr. Beethoven’s things packed up and ready to go. 

The alicorn quickly identified Thunderlane, who was carrying a basket of the giant’s manuscripts, to be the one asking the question.

“Not too far away now, I think another five minutes and we should see the room itself.”

The charcoal pegasus flew down next to her, “What condition do you think the place will be in? I mean, nopony has set foot in that place for a year. Not to mention that it’s been out here exposed to the elements.”

“That’s why we’re here to clean it up before he leaves,” Twilight replied. “Remember, Mr. Beethoven had locked the door before he moved to Ponyville. Chances are, the place itself is just in need of a good dusting. And if worst comes to worst, then we should fix whatever has been damaged.”

“If you say so,” the stallion muttered.

Several minutes later, the volunteers finally arrived at their destination. The tiny apartment that seemed to have been cut out of a larger building was right as they left it. The windows weren’t broken, which was good. The roof held up the debris of leaves and sticks that were collected over the past year. The paint on the plaster was chipped, and the still varnish on the locked door was peeling while the doorknob was nearly covered in rust.

Twilight took out the skeleton key that Mr. Beethoven had given her, and while it took a good deal of effort, she managed to unlock the rusty door. Inside, the wooden planks were covered in an even layer of dust, the walls and ceiling were dangling in cobwebs. And in one corner, Twilight could see that there was some mold growing in a sickly blue color.

“Okay,” she said, “First thing’s first, have we got the brooms?” Twilight asked as she looked behind her. Several ponies lifted their brooms above their heads. “Good, let’s clean this up before we put everything back in its place.”

_*_

In all, Ludwig had a good day. As the carriage rolled along the path through the forest, Beethoven reflected his final day in Equestria. The weather wasn’t too hot from his daily strolls, his neighbors had offered him a breakfast of raspberry and chocolate chip muffins, he came up with a new theme for a string quartet in his walk through the park, had lunch with Spike as they feasted on chicken, and he just received the crucial copy of his Tenth symphony that needed that final bar to be filled out.

The sun was setting, and he decided that he would spend his final meal in Equestria with the two mares that had helped him the most, which happened to be the very mares that were riding with him to his small apartment. On the left across from him, Octavia propped her chin on her hoof, her attention towards the passing trees. And on the right, Ludwig watched as Vinyl was writing something down on a notepad before she flipped it over to show him.



	You know, we’re really gonna miss you.



“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Ludwig said. “After all, I would be missing several things as well of this country.” The unicorn DJ tilted her head to the side. “For one, I will be missing your machines that had helped me hear somewhat. I will also be missing your trains, the wonders of electricity, your enlightened leaders, your exotic foods, and of course, I will be missing you both as well. You were helpful with my music, and helping me hear it as well. Now, since I’m returning to a land where powering up your batteries will be useless,” he pulled out from his pocket the pair of headphones along with the small music device over to them. “I’m afraid that I have to return these to you.”

Both Vinyl and Octavia looked at one another in surprise, “But Mr. Beethoven-”

“Wait,” Ludwig cut her off as he searched his other pocket to pull out the magic scroll. “Now talk.”

The Cellist continued, “But Mr. Beethoven, we gave these to you. It’s your gift.”

“One in which I cannot use in Vienna. We don’t have the means to power up this device, and electricity is still a new thing for us. So I don’t know if I’ll be able to use these again. Which is why I’m giving these back to you, in memory of my time here.”

Vinyl took them in her sapphire magic, levitating over to her to hold in her hooves.

“Mr. Beethoven,” Octavia spoke, “Are you sure that there’s no way to convince you to change your mind, after all, you’ve done for Equestria?”

Ludwig shook his head, “As much as I want to, this land is not my home. My home is where my friends and family are, many of which are in need of a long-overdue apology. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if the last thing that they’ll remember me by is an argument. I missed many things in Vienna that I’m looking forward towards to enjoying again.”

“That being?”

Beethoven laughed, “The food for starters. Proper ale and Italian wines too. The people that I know and love, along with the forest that’s just outside of the city – it makes me wish ponies like you could see it. Vienna is nothing like it in the world, or in any other. A city of musicians that we crave for the new and the cleaver, I do believe, if you two had gone to visit it, you might become all the rage from beggars to princes.”

“I’m sure it’s a lovely place,” Octavia said, “Although, there is something that has been bothering me concerning your departure.”

“That being?”

“How are we going to conduct your next symphony without you? I mean, you have helped a good deal in clarifying how certain passages are supposed to flow.”

“Shame on you, Fräulein,” Beethoven huffed. “At this point, I thought you and the Philharmonic would have known me by now. After all, I have already whipped the orchestra into shape that, even without me, would have known how to interpret my work at this point. I’m sure that you can perform the Tenth without a problem. Although…” Ludwig trailed off, “before I leave tonight, I would need you to do a very important favor for me.”

Octavia’s ears perked forward, “Anything.”

“At the final movement, where the orchestra dissolves to only a cello solo, I have left out a note that I’m planning on writing tonight that signals the end of the symphony. When I am gone for good, it is important that you write out this final bar.”

“Of course sir, what is it?”

Here, Beethoven took out from his pockets a piece of scratch paper and a pencil and drew out five lines in the bass clef. He wrote two bars of music with only a single whole note and a bar of silence before folding it. “This is the last note to end it, can I entrust you to give this to those publishers to make a new copy of the Tenth?”

Octavia took the folded piece of paper and nodded, “Of course, sir.”

_*_

The carriage pulled up to a huge crowd of ponies. With the sun just touching the horizon, Ludwig stepped out of it to a forest flooded with Equestrians from all over the country. Although Beethoven could not hear them, he could see it in the light of their lanterns, of their pleading eyes, they were begging him not to go. As the giant made his way towards his tiny apartment, the ponies cleared a path for him to trudge on. He saw the signs they were holding up, half of them were saying goodbye, and the others were asking him to stay.

Still, he walked on, with the copy of his Tenth under his arm; he walked towards the only room in the darkening forest. There at the door, he saw Princess Twilight Sparkle and her assistant, waiting for him. He stopped right in front of them, “I didn’t think that I would see this many ponies in one place to wish me goodbye.”

Twilight waited as he pulled out the magic scroll, “I want to apologize on behalf of Princess Celestia, Luna, Cadance, my brother and Prince Blueblood who couldn’t make it here tonight. Still, on behalf of everypony here and beyond, we want to say one thing to you before you go.”

“And that being?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. In less than a year, you’ve become a source of inspiration, and hope for many ponies. Who would have thought that a giant that was deaf can write the greatest pieces of music, that we have ever heard that goes on par with Moztrot or Buch? You gave a dying genre of music a second chance when most thought it was irredeemable. And with your last symphony, you gave the world the very song to hear when we needed the most. I don’t know if we’ll ever see anypony the likes of you again, but we will be treating your scores of music as a national treasure. For that, goodbye Mr. Beethoven, and thank you.”

As Ludwig looked up after what he read, he saw Spike’s claw gesturing for him to turn around. Beethoven looked behind him to see waves of white handkerchiefs in the air, waving to him in solidarity. Even before he could move, he felt something grabbing at his leg, only to look down to see Spike hugging him.

Twilight’s horn glowed and offered Beethoven the skeleton key with a smile. Ludwig took hold of the key as the little drake let go, “Thank you,” he said as he went over to the familiar door to unlock it. But before he could enter, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Auf Wiedersehen Prinzessin Twilight, möge Gott Sie segnen.”

Stepping inside, he found the old room was a good deal cleaner then he left it. The furniture and his legless piano were in the same place, but the plates, silverware, glasses, along with his manuscripts and bundles of scratch paper were all tied up in twine and were neatly placed about the room. Closing the door behind him, he picked up some matches and lit the candles over the piano before sitting down on the bed.

Taking in a deep breath, he flipped open the copy of Tenth to the last page and took out a pencil from his pocket to write in the final note. As soon as he did, he noticed that the windows and the room itself had become darker. Looking up towards the door, he saw the Shadow with its unblinking white eyes. He took a quick glance around the room to see that the windows only showed a dark void.

“It’s all finished,” he said as he took out the scroll and tossed it over to the creature. “It took me a good deal of time, but the score is at least complete.”

The Shadow took up the magic scroll with its impossibly long arm and held it up to Ludwig’s face.

“What a relief indeed. Now just give me the manuscript you have, you will go home, and I would have something to show my Employer.”

Ludwig stood up from his bed, “Not yet.”

“What?” the words on the scroll inquired.

“I’ll give you my Tenth,” he started as he slowly walked towards the piano. “But for a price of my own.”

“You are in no position to bargain.”

“Am I?” Ludwig questioned as he knelt down at the only light source in the room. “If I recall correctly, you don’t really care if I get left behind in that land of ponies, do you not? Yet, you have invested so much in my writings. I will give you the symphony, but in exchange, I want to know why you and your employer want it so badly to go to this extreme length to get it.”

“I told you, I’m not bound to do so.”

“As you wish,” Beethoven then held the pages of the manuscript right over the flames of the candles. But just as he did so, suddenly, a shadowy hand snatched at his wrist to keep the symphony away from the fire. “For a spirit that said there is no music where you came from, you seemed to be interested in preserving this score.”

The Shadow made no reply.

Ludwig continued, “Tell me exactly why you need a symphony, or I will let go of this.”

The shadowy hand loosened, letting it become flat on the piano and the floor. “I’m not going to win this, am I?” Beethoven shook his head. So the creature moved along the walls to the bed, in which, surprisingly enough, it took a seat. To make things even stranger, the silhouette formed an arm, this time with the outline of clothing, to pat on the bed, as if to invite him to sit with it.

Holding on to the manuscript, Ludwig did so with suspicious eyes.

Then the Shadow held up the scroll, “A year ago, you asked me who am I, however, you had asked the wrong question.” It said, “Ask me rather, who I was.”

The old man folded his arms but kept the bounded score close to his chest. “Fine. Who were you?” Before his eyes, the shape of the shadow had changed. No longer was it tall and narrow with a simple outline of a head. It took on the silhouette of a man. One that had the outline of a powdered wig with a bow in the back, the features of the face became more defined as it looked to the side to reveal a nose, mouth, and chin. An outline of a coat, decades-old became a little distinct with all its buttons, collars and cuffs.

In the back of Ludwig’s mind, there was something… frighteningly familiar about this silhouette that the creature was transforming into. But for a long time, he couldn’t figure out who exactly it was. Then the Shadow took hold of the scroll, and its dark mass of an arm holding it up to him, it’s piercing white eyes looking over.

“Do you recognize me? In life, I was your greatest fear and your first teacher. I had taught you everything and placed great expectations on your shoulders. To my friends, they called me Johann. But to you, you called me Papa.”

Ludwig instinctively leaped backward as he got up. “What! Is this a trick?”

The shadow’s eyes narrowed, “No you stupid boy! Why would an eternally damned man lie?”

Although startled, Beethoven was suspicious of its claim, “Prove it.”

“Your grandfather was the Kapellmeister in Bonn; I began to teach you the piano when you were five; I took you out of school so you would have more time to practice; your brothers and sisters names are Kaspar, Nikolaus, Anna, Franz, and Maria. Do you want me to go on?” When Ludwig didn’t reply, the scroll further read, “And in my lifetime, I had nearly beaten you to death… twice.”

Now the composer was convinced, “What the living HELL are you doing here!” he roared.

“Exactly,” the scroll read. “Ludwig, sit down.”

“Get out!”

“Do you want an explanation as to why I am here or not! How can I offer you the truth if you won’t let me?”

Although clearly angry, Ludwig returned to his place on the bed. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be burning for all eternity?”

“Oh, I wish that were the case,” the scroll read. Beethoven asked him what he meant. “Have you ever heard the phrase that Hell is other people? As it turns out, there is such a place, but it’s not what you think it is. After I died, it was the first time I met… him. My Employer that I can never quit from, for he told me that for all my crimes against God and mankind, I was sentenced to live in the shadow of the one that I hurt the most – in this case, I was designated to be your shadow for all eternity. I was to be hurt when you were hurt, to fall sick when you were sick, to suffer as you suffered. My punishment was to live your life, again, and again, and again forever. To never be able to comfort you, or to say that I was sorry, or to do anything about your hearing; until the end of time, I am forced to live your miserable life.”

His father became still as he looked away but still held up the scroll. “In truth, I’ve given up how many times I witnessed you be born, beaten, heartbroken, grow old, and die only to come back again. But that’s not why I’m here. Ludwig, my greatest dream was to see you as famous as Herr Mozart. But knowing the last few years ahead of you, I am worried beyond description when I know that in these last years of your life; you’ll grow out of favor among your fellow men.”

“Out of favor,” Ludwig said, baffled.

“It’s true. After you wrote the Ninth, people begin to wonder if you’re even capable of writing music anymore. Remember how those Equestrians didn’t take too kindly to your Great Fugue? Just wait until you hear what the Viennese have to say about it! And since I can’t see beyond your death, I worry if you’ll become like your teacher Salieri has. To let your music grow fainter, ever fainter until no one plays it at all. I did not teach you to play the piano so in the end, you’ll just be forgotten!

“So… I summoned my Employer, and begged him, not to change my condition for something new, but for some insurance that your name will be remembered. Well… he said that he would, only on the condition that I somehow convince you to write a symphony that mankind would never hear. Of course, I couldn’t just tell you right away who I was that wanted this, knowing you, you would never have agreed to this. So he gave me some limited powers just to convince you to write the symphony so that your name and your music will be immortalized.” He held out his shadowy hand. “That is the price, Ludwig. Your songs, concertos, sonatas, symphonies, trios, quartets, and that opera will be remembered as long as man breathes, all it costs is that manuscript you’re holding.”

But Ludwig wasn’t ready to hand over his score. “So that’s it then? You kidnapped me beyond space and time; place me in an unfamiliar world, finding out that I don’t have much time to live, and only to find out that Papa did it out of insurance?” his eyes narrowed. “You wanted my name to be immortal? Ever since you started teaching me, you always said that no matter how I put finger to ivory, it was never good enough for you! The only time you complimented me was when you were drunk while the other times you were punching me around when I did the slightest thing wrong. Yet, you come back from the dead in order to secure my legacy? After all, you’ve done! Face it, Papa, this is not for me, you did this for yourself. You’re stealing my work so you can make your justified punishment easier. Do you realize that you’re robbing future generations in our world just so you can have peace of mind? You really haven’t changed at all!”

Just as Ludwig quickly turned his back on him, the scroll came up to his face, “Oh, and you consider yourself better? The famous Ludwig van Beethoven, the short-tempered genius who stolen the son of one of his dying brother's simply because he didn’t think the mother was good enough for the boy! Sure, I maybe have been a drunk when I was alive, but at least I didn’t steal someone else’s child!”

In a rage, Beethoven threw the music at the shadow of his father, “Get out! Take the damned symphony and leave! Karl has been raised by a better man than you had ever been!”

So Johann did, scooping up the score in one of his shadowy hands, he let it dissolve into the inky blackness of his form until it was no more. Getting up from the bed, Beethoven’s father morphed back into the skinny shadow once more, his eyes moved about as if he was shaking his head. 

“Like father, like son,” he said to Ludwig before the magic scroll too enveloped in the darkness. Once it faded away, a flash of light came across the room; Beethoven swirled around to the windows to see lightning and the lighted rooftops of a familiar city. Ludwig looked around the room once again; the Shadow of his father had disappeared.

The first thing he did was to go straight to one of the windows to fling them open to the story air. From the shingled roofs to the cobblestone streets, he knew one thing was for certain. He was home. He was back in Vienna.

Just to make sure, he rushed over to the door to find the familiar hallway of the mangled apartment building. Ludwig sighed in relief. He was back, but he had much to do. The first thing he did was to grab his top hat, his overcoat, and a small pocket full of jewels in hopes he could find his nephew. He had a guess that if he was anywhere at this time of night, it probably would be at the White Elk tavern on the other side of the city.

‘He’s wrong,’ Ludwig thought as he stormed out. ‘I’ll show him! I’m the better man!’ And with that, he slammed the door.