//------------------------------// // Chapter three: Lessons // Story: Octavia’s Story // by Elkia Deerling //------------------------------// I did not even play the last part of the piece, but focused instead on her left hoof technique. She was undeterred by the sudden loss of the second voice. Quite the opposite happened. The little filly closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the last passage of the piece in C major, arguably the happiest key in music. It wasn’t hard to conclude that she was indeed in the mood for something cheerful. The last note was a staccato note, but instead of playing it short she turned it into an ornamentation, moving lighting fast from a low C up the scale to a high C. A smile adorned her lips as she opened her eyes and looked at me, even before the sound had echoed away through the windows of the living room. What would be my judgement? ‘That was truly beautiful!’ I said, nodding vigorously. ‘Was it?’ Treble looked doubtful. ‘I know that twiddly bit at the end wasn’t what the sheet music said, but…’ ‘But you made it work out absolutely brilliant, and I appreciate your creativity, Treble.’ Still Treble didn’t look satisfied. ‘It’s just… when I go play in the student orchestra I can’t do something weird like that.’ ‘Hm… perhaps not…’ Now even my smile faded a little. ‘Everypony will give me funny stares. I mean, not funny, but more like, disappointed,’ Treble said, fumbling with her pink ponytail while she spoke. I put my cello on the stand together with my bow, then stepped closer to my student. ‘Usually, when you play together with others, you have to play exactly as the sheet music says, because it might indeed sound… off, if you start your wonderful improvisations all of a sudden.’ I paused and smiled a sly smile. ‘Or perhaps it would also be nice to surprise the rest of the students and shake them awake with some nice forte-pianos!’ Mission accomplished! Treble giggled along, almost losing her grip on the small cello in her hooves. ‘Whoopsie daisy! Let me get that for you, my little virtuoso.’ I reached out and placed Treble’s instrument carefully on its stand. After that I stroked her mane. ‘So you’re not disappointed, even though it wasn’t perfect?’ Treble said. ‘To me it was perfect, and that is what counts for the moment,’ I answered. ‘It sounded perfect because you made it perfect. It was your very own voice sounding through your instrument. I wish I could have played as expressively at your age.’ A blush flared up on Treble’s white cheeks, which made her look even more adorable than when she had the tiny cello in front of her. ‘Golly! Thanks, Miss Octy. I, um… Yeah, thanks a lot!’ I knew that look in her eyes when she cast them downwards painfully well. It was time for me to ask her a question. ‘This might seem a bit random, but, may I ask you, why did you decide to play the cello?’ ‘I… didn’t. My parents kinda chose that for me,’ she mumbled back. Just as I expected. ‘I see…’ Treble’s expression darkened. To my own surprise, she continued all by herself. ‘And it gets worse! They only want me to play sad songs. You know, minor keys and stuff. Every time I ask why, they tell me that “music is suffering,” and that “the essence of all arts is suffering,” whatever that means.’ I couldn’t stand listening any more. Three years she had been my student, yet I had never dared to ask her that question, nor had she ever shown her opinion about this matter. ‘So that is why you always want to do pieces in major keys when we play together?’ ‘Yeah… now you know my secret.’ My mouth was open in a silent gasp. ‘I could never have guessed! You always look so happy when you play. I can hear that as well.’ Her shoulders slumped for a moment, but then she met my gaze and smiled again. ‘I know, but it’s not really the music that cheers me up. It’s you!’ ‘It is me?!’ ‘Yes, of course, silly Miss Octy. You’re the best music teacher I’ve ever had!’ She grabbed my hoof in a funny hoofshake. I just stood petrified. ‘But… why?’ ‘That’s easy! You’re kind and always give a million compliments. Oh, and you let me choose the pieces, of course. No minor keys in your lessons, haha!’ Upon her giggle, I thawed a bit. Yet I retreated my hoof and rubbed it as if a flyder had stung me. ‘That is very friendly of you, and I appreciate your compliments very much,’ I said, discovering that I sounded stiffer than I actually wanted to. ‘We’re a dream-team! With your help, I’ll be a pro cellist in no time!’ Treble jumped up and down. ‘That’s what my parents say too. “You will fulfill your destiny, my daughter.”’ She probably mimicked her father’s voice. The exaggerated tone struck a false chord in me, which made my bones rattle. Was it just me, or did her imitation sound just like my own father? He had said that exact same sentence to me many times, when I was still a little filly. Involuntarily, I fumbled with my bowtie. ‘Are you alright, Miss Octy? You look a bit strange.’ That concerned gaze called me back to action. ‘Yes, yes, I am quite alright. Excuse me for my… absent-mindedness. I was… um… distracted.’ ‘Oki-doki!’ Treble swished her flowing pink tail aside to reveal her cutie mark: a treble clef. It looked just like mine, except smaller and adorned with the colors of the rainbow. ‘Yeah, music is my special talent, I guess, but I still think it’s odd that my cutie mark is a treble clef. I mean, it should be a bass or alto clef, right? We’re playing cello and not violin, after all.’ ‘My cutie mark is a treble clef as well and I too, play cello,’ I said, although my tone wavered a bit. Something was on my mind. ‘Of course I also play piano accompaniment from time to time, where I have to read treble clef.’ Treble gasped. ‘Two instruments?! Wow! You’re even more talented than I thought. Only, how do you know what your special talent is, then? Piano or cello?’ I let a small silence drop just to think how to say what I wanted to say. When I finally gathered up the words, I crouched down so I could look Treble straight in her big, blue eyes. ‘I know very well what my special talent is, but I think you misinterpreted yours, little Treble.’ ‘Mis—mis—interwhatnow?’ ‘Oh, eh… I mean, misunderstood.’ ‘But it’s right there on my flank!’ She pointed. ‘Music!’ Gently I guided her gaze back to me. ‘Yes, the treble clef means music, but what does music mean?’ Treble tapped her chin and took guesses. ‘Sounds? Notes? Instruments? Cellos? Orchestras? Tones? Keys? Bow strokes? Bowties?’ I chuckled. ‘Yes, you are giving all the right answers. Yet, there is one you forget. That doesn’t matter, because I have seen many musicians forget it.’ ‘Which one do you mean? Tell me, tell me!’ ‘Do you remember when I said you could play very expressively and made your voice sound through your instrument?’ Treble’s gaze wandered. ‘Yeah, uh… I wasn’t sure what you meant with that, honestly.’ ‘That’s okay. Don’t worry.’ To my gentle words, she paid attention again. ‘The only thing you should remember is that music is not only about talent, hard work, and prestige, but about expressing yourself with sound.’ ‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded, but I could hear in her voice that she did not quite understand. I placed my hoof on her shoulder and took a deep breath. ‘With “expressing yourself” I mean letting your emotions sound through your instrument. If you feel happy you play fast and lively, with quick sixteenth notes and arpeggios; and when you feel sad you play slowly and gravely, for example vibrating semibreves that last for at least a bar.’ ‘Ah! Now I get it!’ Her eyes glimmered. ‘Very good!’ I cheered. ‘That little improvisation of yours was yours and yours alone, and you played it only for yourself, to show that you enjoyed playing the piece. Am I correct?’ Treble nodded. ‘You should do that more often. Not only when you play solo, but also in the orchestra. Explain to the conductor what you intend to do, and perhaps he or she will incorporate your ideas in the original composition. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?’ ‘Sounds really cool!’ Treble said. I continued. ‘Learning to express yourself through your music is a very valuable lesson, little Treble. A lesson I had to learn the hard way. In fact, the realization came to me years ago when I least expected it, and at the most inappropriate time imaginable: during a solo performance!’ Apparently I voiced it as a joke because Treble laughed. From the inside it didn’t feel like a joke. I felt myself chuckle along anyway. ‘And the music will always be yours. Not your parents’, not the composer’s, not the conductor’s, but completely yours. No matter how boring or dreadfully sad the piece is, if you learn to express your thoughts and emotions, you can always put something from yourself in the music.’ ‘Okay… Alright…’ I nodded. ‘It doesn’t matter if you do not understand yet, Treble. Some things you learn automatically when you practice, as you know all too well. Trust me. It will come.’ There was a small silence in which we both thought. Then, Treble suddenly scooted forward and threw her hooves around me. ‘Thank you, Miss Octy.’ ‘You’re welcome,’ I quickly uttered, before a tear fell down and my voice began to croak. ‘You are very welcome, my little virtuoso…’