//------------------------------// // Debut Performance // Story: The Music of Ponyville // by GrassAndClouds2 //------------------------------// The sun rose in the morning sky, and music floated up to greet it. The melody was sweet and gentle, the notes warbling just enough to evoke the image of birds and rising with the slow, dignified grace of the sun itself. The bass line repeated below it in a simple pattern, backing up the melody and adding some energy and spirit to the piece. It was morning, after all, a time when ponies awoke refreshed to take on the day anew. The bass ran with this theme: it was not too energetic, nor too powerful, but was instead simple, strong, and purposeful. It was the music of ponies greeting the sun and preparing for another day. As the minutes passed, both the sun and the music steadily rose. The sun inched up degree by degree, gradually suffusing the city of Canterlot and the nation of Equestria with its bright, warm light. The music simultaneously expanded and grew in power, the melody enriched by harmonies that built up and wound around it, and the bass line divided into multiple rhythms. One was purposeful and strong, like the steps of a farmer trotting out into her fields; another slow but steady, the movements of a craftspony preparing her worktable, and three more rhythms were skipping, darting, almost gleeful -- the motions of foals bounding out of bed in preparation for another day of learning and growing. By the time the sun reached its zenith, the music was as layered and deep as any chamber quartet. Soprano notes soared up like birds, alto tones skipped and cavorted like foals, tenor and bass notes conducted themselves with the gravity, but also the contentness, appropriate to adults. The final chords rose to the sky, embracing the sun’s rays that descended and illuminated the city, the castle, and even the musician performing on the little balcony off one side of the castle. If morning itself -- the sight of the sun, the sound of the roosters, the taste of cereal and oats and bananas -- had one unified song, this might well have been that song. Finally, it was over. The last few notes faded away into the morning, and the sounds from the city below could once again be heard. Ponies hurried to work, opened shops, dashed into classrooms seconds ahead of the implacable bell -- and above them all, in the castle, one gray-coated pony began to put away her instrument. Octavia Philharmonica, the youngest member of the House of Philharmonica and personal student of Princess Mi Amore “Cadance” Cadenza, smiled as she lowered her instrument into its case. “That,” she said to herself, “was lovely.” *** Lovely though it might have been, even the greatest of performances could be improved. This was a maxim Octavia lived by, and so as she walked back to her quarters, she was already thinking of how to play her ‘Sonata of Morning’ better the next time. “The foals,” murmured Octavia, carefully manipulating her cello’s case to get it down the flight of stairs. “Their lines kept running together... I should try to keep them more distinct so the music remains clear.” She smiled to herself as she thought of the image she wished to elicit in sound -- foals running towards school, this one so eager to learn she raced ahead, that one lost in a book and walking at a meandering trot, perhaps two others laughing about something silly one of their siblings did... “Octavia! Octavia!” Octavia turned to see the personal assistant Princess Cadance had assigned her. She was an orange-coated, pink-maned earth pony, and as usual, she was rushing after Octavia in a mad gallop. “Good morning Pageturner," said Octavia. "How are you?” “Fine -- but you’re late! Moondancer’s dance performance--” Pageturner took a few deep breaths for air. “Come on, we have to hurry! You’ll miss all of it!” Octavia frowned as Pageturner began to guide her down another hallway. “I need to make some notes about my performance this morning.” “No time!” Pageturner shook her head. “I was looking all over -- where were you?” “Just out on the eastern pavilion.” Octavia frowned as she was hurried along. “Pageturner, I really need to go over my sonata. Surely this dance can wait--” “It’s almost over!” “Then I will attend the next one. She performs weekly,” said Octavia. “But you promised!” protested Pageturner. Octavia thought back, and -- with a frown -- remembered herself, cornered after a lesson, agreeing to attend Moondancer’s next dance. She shook her head slightly, wishing that she could just go back to her quarters and work on her music, but she would not be forsworn. “You are right," she said. "I forgot. Please show me the way.” The argument taken care of, the two continued through the castle. They worked through the hallways that made up the governmental wing and cut through the Chamber of Commons and Chamber of Lords to get to the private section of the castle. A few more hallways, a quick dash through a lobby with ancient Roam artwork and architecture, and they arrived at a set of small double doors. “Here?” asked Octavia. Pageturner nodded, quickly taking out a comb and fixing up Octavia’s mane and tail. “She’s probably just getting to her big finish right now,” whispered Pageturner. “She’s been playing her Prench repatoire; do you know that one?” “Yes,” said Octavia. “Thank you.” She checked herself in a nearby mirror, asked Pageturner to return her cello case to her quarters, and then eased the door open and slipped into the room, The dance studio was small, with twenty or so cushions and seats set up around a dance floor big enough for about four couples at one time. On the floor was Moondancer, a pony with a bright white coat and a sharp red mane, moving over the floor with remarkable grace and agility. Playing the accompanying music was another of Princess Cadance’s students, Twinkleshine, a violinist who was standing just behind the dance floor. Her eyes were shut in concentration as she played a bright, spirited trot, and Moondancer’s hooves were almost a blur as she moved about the dance floor. Octavia looked at the seating area to find a good place to watch. Most of Princess Cadance’s other students were there, about a dozen musicians all together. Lemon Hearts, a pianist, was sitting the closest to the front, smiling brightly. Minuette, who built and used slightly arhythmic metronomes to produce some of the most complex and intricate beat patterns Octavia had heard, was also near the front and was tapping her hoof to the music. The other students sat a little further back, but all were fully engrossed in the performance. Princess Cadance was there too. Octavia’s heart skipped a beat as she saw her teacher and mentor sitting off to one side of the dance floor and smiling merrily as Moondancer moved and Twinkleshine played. The princess glanced in Octavia’s direction as the cellist eased the door shut, but her smile didn’t change. She just slightly inclined her head and gestured for Octavia to take the seat next to her. The cellist sat down, ears already focusing on Twinkleshine’s music and the sounds of Moondancer’s rapidly-trotting hooves. It was, Octavia thought, a Las Pegasus trot -- not Octavia’s style of music, but still based enough on classical principles that she could follow it. Twinkleshine was playing two themes which wove about each other, sometimes in conflict and sometimes in harmony, and Moondancer’s rapid steps seemed to determine which theme was more prominent at any given time. Sometimes she would trot to one theme, and it would rise and dominate over the other, and sometimes she would continually bounce back and forth between them as they built off of each other into something bigger... The next thing Octavia knew, the other students and Princess Cadance were applauding. Octavia joined in, hooves stomping up and down with the rest of the audience. Twinkleshine and Moondancer walked together so they were facing the Princess’s seat, and then both bowed. Princess Cadance smiled and bowed in return. “A lovely performance,” Octavia heard her say. “Moondancer, every time I see you perform, you improve. And did I detect some Prench styling in the last movement?” Moondancer beamed. “Yes! I talked to that pony you told me about, Madame La Grace. She gave me some tips. I tried to get my shoulder motion...” Octavia, thoughts now returning to her own music, was starting to slip out of the room along with the rest of the students. Cadance, though, caught her eye and motioned for her to remain where she was. A bit confused, Octavia stopped and let the others file past her “And Twinkleshine,” continued Cadance, “I loved your work with the cross-themes. Although...” Her voice grew teasing. “Have you been practicing your intervals like you should?” Twinkleshine blushed slightly. “I might have... uh... been distracted by that new Broadmane drama...” Cadance laughed, the sound like the tinkling of crystal glasses. “I can certainly understand that. Your performance sounded lovely regardless, Twinkleshine. You demonstrated remarkable control of your instrument, and your shadings were brilliant. Except for the short... very short, really... delays while you set up your intervals, it sounded perfect.” “I’ll work on them,” said Twinkleshine. “Next time, they'll be absolutely perfect!” “I look forward to hearing it.” Cadance nuzzled Twinkleshine for a few moments. “Now... I should probably let you two get back to practicing.” “Yes, Princess,” they said, bowing low. Octavia nodded at them as they left. Moondancer paused when she saw Octavia, as if she hadn’t noticed her before. “Oh! … hi, Octavia. I didn’t know you came.” “I said I would, and I did,” said Octavia, inclining her head slightly. “I enjoyed your performance.” “Thanks.” Moondancer paused. “You were late, though.” She raised an eyebrow. “Busy?” “I was practicing and I lost track of my schedule,” said Octavia. “My latest piece can only be played at dawn.” “Yeah, but...” Moondancer frowned. “Why can’t you come to my shows? You’re really good at music, Octavia. I’d like to have your feedback.” Twinkleshine nodded. “We’re supposed to be helping each other. Giving each other advice so we can keep growing as musicians” “And I do,” said Octavia. “Every lesson, I always comment on any piece that is performed. I fulfill my obligations.” “It’s not about obligations!” said Moondancer. “Can’t you come to our performances, sometimes, even if they aren’t official lessons? Just as a friend?” Octavia frowned and locked eyes with her classmate. “I--” Princess Cadance held out a wing. “Twinkleshine, Moondancer,” she said. “Haven’t you both occasionally been so enraptured by music that you lost track of time?” The two musicians looked at each other. “Yes,” said Moondancer. “You are all musicians,” said Cadance. “The world of sound, the subtle melodies and intricate rhythms that move the world, have the same hold on all of us. We should all understand that, and make allowances when needed.” She smiled gently. “Now, Octavia, you will attend their next exhibition in its entirety?” Octavia bowed. “Yes, Princess.” Moondancer and Twinkleshine bowed too, but they still looked upset to Octavia. The cellist frowned. “And--” “No, it’s alright,” said Moondancer, though her tone indicated otherwise. “I really should get back to practicing... by your leave, Princess.” “Of course.” When Twinkleshine and Moondancer were gone, Cadance turned to Octavia. “I think I could use a walk,” she said. “Would you care to join me, Octavia?” “Of course, Princess,” said the cellist. “Splendid. Let’s take the garden path.” The flowers of the Eastern Castle Garden were just coming into bloom; spring was imminent and the equinox was only a few days away. Octavia nodded a little as she looked at the brilliant colors of the petals. She could use that beauty for her music, she thought, and demonstrate in sound what the castle gardeners had so carefully sculpted in the dirt. She could set up themes for the tall, strong flowers with many petals, and for the smaller ones with only a few blossoms, and add in a rapid buzzing section for the yellow bees-- “Octavia,” said Princess Cadance. “Yes, Princess?” Cadance hesitated for a few moments, using her magic to straighten a crooked rose. “I too have noticed that you seem to be avoiding my other students. Is something wrong?” “No,” said Octavia. “I have not been avoiding them, Princess. I pass them in the halls all the time; I attend all our group lessons--” Cadance held up a hoof to stop Octavia. “Yes,” she said. “You have diligently attended every lesson over the past years, which I appreciate. But on your own, during leisure time, you never seek the others out. You spend almost all of your free time by yourself.” “I must practice,” said Octavia. “I hope you understand that, while I appreciate your devotion to your craft, that kind of single-minded focus is not something I expect of my students.” Cadance smiled. “You are still young, Octavia. You shouldn’t be spending all your time cooped up in a practice room. Look at the others. They are all spectacular musicians, among the best of their age -- but they still find time to explore, and play, and have fun with each other and the other residents of Canterlot. I believe Minuette is even training for a 3-kilometer charity race.” “If they feel that they can spend time on leisure activities, that is their business,” said Octavia. “But I know I can still improve. I cannot justify wasting my time on other pursuits while my technique and skill lag behind where they should be.” Cadance’s smile seemed to fade slightly. “Those ponies are my other students,” she said, quietly. “Time spent with them is not ‘wasted’, Octavia.” Octavia blinked. “That isn’t what I meant!” she said quickly. “They are all skilled musicians in their own right. But time I spend with them is time I am not improving my own ability. I am not good enough to allow for that.” “Do you think that music is only about pure ability?” asked Cadance. “No, of course not. But...” Octavia paused. “Princess, music is my special talent. It makes me happier than anything else in all the world, and it can be so beautiful... even more beautiful, in my opinion, than this garden.” She nodded at the gorgeous flowers. “Such a medium demands the highest possible skill from those who work with it. When I perform music, I honestly feel I have an obligation to the craft, and to the ponies who developed the styles and techniques I use, to do my absolute best. If I am not continually improving my ability, I am doing those ponies and the craft a disservice. “And, also, I feel I owe it to you to perform at my best. You rule the nation, you have so many responsibilities, and yet you take time out of your schedule to train me.” She hesitated, tongue moving fruitlessly as she tried to form the words. “The gift of your time is an honor I must be worthy of, and if I am not constantly striving to make the most of that gift, I feel it is unfair to you.” Cadance was silent for a few moments. “I truly value your devotion and love for your craft, Octavia,” she said. “And I do appreciate that you value my time. And yet...” She smiled. “Music is wonderful, Octavia. But there is so much wonder in the world, and I would not want you to miss out on all the rest of it because of single-minded focus. I want you to associate with the other students more. Show an interest in their hobbies and leisure activities... perhaps develop one or two of your own.” She chuckled. “Not only will this make you a better musician, but I think it will help you grow as a pony as well.” Octavia wanted to shake her head. She had so much to do, so much music that she wanted to compose and so many great works to perform, that she didn’t know where she could find the time to do anything else. How could she justify training to run with Minuette, or baking with Lemon Hearts, or following Twinkleshine and Moondancer to some silly dance club, when there was so much music in her that she had to express? She simply didn't have the time. “Besides,” the princess continued, “a musician must be able to work with colleagues -- performers, composers, conductors, and all other sorts of ponies -- in order to demonstrate their art. There is little use in great musical ability if you cannot collaborate with other ponies long enough for the world to hear it. I think you still need practice in that, Octavia.” An idea struck Octavia. “But Princess,” she began. “I feel that I am capable of that kind of collaboration. Please -- let me prove it to you.” Cadance blinked. “Prove it how?” “Grant me a public performance. With a group, as part of a larger event -- however you please. Let me show you that I can work with others to demonstrate to the world my own ability, and your teachings, without needing to spend time on non-musical activities.” She bowed low, looking up at the princess from the ground. “I believe that I am capable of this task, princess. Please give me a chance to show you that my method of practicing works. And, if I perform to your satisfaction, please allow me to continue practicing as much as I deem necessary.” Cadance frowned, looking almost disappointed. Octavia glanced away, blushing a little. She respected the Princess on so many levels, but she couldn’t seem to find a way to convince her that she felt very strongly about this. That she wanted to play music, and all she wanted to do was play music, and she had a duty both to the princess and to the craft itself, and... “Very well.” Octavia was certain she had misheard. “I -- I apologize, Princess. What did you say?” Cadance took a few steps closer so she was standing very near Octavia. “I strongly believe,” she told Octavia, “that you are making a mistake, and that by neglecting opportunities to make friends, you are limiting yourself as a musician. But it is your life, and I cannot dictate how you should live it.” Cadance was silent for a moment. “I want you to perform at a particular event which will require you to work very closely with several other ponies. I think this will help you to understand the value of friendship, which will only further improve your abilities and yourself. But if, at the end of the event, you still believe as you do now, I will not ask you again about diverting your practice time for other activities.” Octavia could not quite contain her smile. “I will not let you down,” she vowed. “The Vernal Equinox celebration,” said Cadance, “takes place in three days. I will be attending the celebration in a rural village called Ponyville...”