//------------------------------// // Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 1) // Story: The Great Filly Violin Prodigy // by HeartTortoisePigeonDog //------------------------------// "Oh, I am so, so, so, so, soooo happy for you, Big Sister! Of course, I am also kinda sad you have to go--but still, you won! And you're gunna study under Beehoofen! You're gunna stay in the Castle!" Octavia hadn't let her go since leaving the theatre, and it was hard to walk. "Yes, Country Fiddle, you did outstanding. I could not think of a more perfect performance. That piece you played, clearly one of your own--you had your sister and I worried near the end that you didn't know how to finish it, but," with a great flourish of his hoof, "you expertly finished with the most unique ending I have ever had the great pleasure of hearing." Her father, carrying Octavia's cello, rained praise on praise on his eldest daughter as a way of covering up his hidden, broken desire: he had wanted Octavia to win. Still, how could he not be proud of Country Fiddle's original piece? He smiled, flourished his hooves, rustled her hair, pinched her cheek, and added praise on praise on her performance while Octavia continued to cling to and congradulate her sister. "And, of course, you simply must invite us to the castle sometime--I know mummy and daddy would surely love it!" She took Country Fiddle's violin as they approached their house. "And you should rest, Fiddlesticks. Daddy and I will take care of the essetials for packing," she beamed, adding a playful note on Country Fiddle's nick-name. It was only Octavia who ever used the nick-name. Country Fiddle held open the front gate for her father and sister. Her father kissed her, smiling ear to ear, as he walked past her. Country Fiddle stopped Octavia and took back her violin. "It's alright. Beehoofen had said I won't be needing anything but my violin: everything will be provided for me there." "Oh," she sighed, not a little disappointed, lowering her head and letting her mane cover an eye. There was a sparkle in her lavender eye that Country Fiddle could faintly see. Octavia suddenly perked up and again backed her sis' violin. "Let me at least take your violin to your room for you; you deserve it; please?" She could see, in her little sister's cheery eyes, that it would be vain to protest, and assented. Octavia brightened and galloped off through the small front garden and into their house. Country Fiddle lingered at the gate, looking out into the street, for a moment. All the praise had made her inwardly cringe, and she still felt the sting. "It isn't right," she reflected. "I should have lost! I made that slip and, in a deserate attempt to cover it up and impress, stole my sister's ending to her song. I messed up so much... And they all thought it was an original piece!" The guilt pierced her deeper. Throughout all of Canterlot, ponies had done their best to disfiguer and cover the ground with bricks and stone, but the small gardens and the air still proved that spring was spring. "Country Fiddle!" Her father called from under the eves. "Do come inside: your mother has lunch ready." Though she could cover it with passive lies, the truth was still the truth. She desided she would tell her family right away. Yet all throughout lunch she hesitated to begin. She ate only about half her food. It wasn't untill lunch was almost over that she gathered the courage and timidly spoke up. "Um..." She shook, afraid what they would think. "Everypony--family. I--I have to confess something that's been on my mind and tearing at my... heart..." They all looked conserned on their little filly. Octavia stopped chewing, cheeks still full of food. "I--I had... well... that piece I played--it wasn't an original piece--nor a creative interpretation--it was a song by Anponyo Vivaldi--and the ending was only a varriant I stole from Tavi's ending to her song--" She couldn't continue. She spoke so quickly, her family at first didn't seem to know if they had heard her right. Then, suddenly, of all ponies, her mother burst out laughing. Her father seemed to force a smile, but it seemed genuine all the same; and Octavia giggled, graciously trying not to spit out her food, and playfully tossed her sister's mane. "It's no joke!!" "Oh, sweetie, we don't doubt it. It's simply funny that you should take it so seriously," her mother managed, still giggling. "All ponies do just what you did all the time," turning to his wife, "well, the successful ones, at least. What does it matter if everypony thought it was original--or creative--what matters is that it entertained us and made us feel something; not to metion it truely showed us your unique, singular musical talent, and your talent to recover and make something your own (now that we know that it wasn't intentional). Honey, you have a great, stupendious talent in music--prodigical!--don't deny youself that." "Yeah, it's okay, big sis. I'm actually very flattered that you used a part of the song I played." "But---but, Tavi," burning tears welling up within her. "Come now," her father standing promtly up and picking up the dirty china plates and silverware with his magic, "You are clearly over-stressed from such an outstanding performance in the presence of the renouned Beehoofen. You simply need to relax. What say you all to a small stroll in the Canterlot Gardens?"