The Performance

by ScarletRibbon

Prelude

The auditorium was dim. Hushed whispers reached her ears, but Octavia paid them no mind as she took her place at the front of the stage. She peered to her right, where the silhouettes of the rest of the orchestra blocked out the dull red lights from the back of the stage.

Every performer was in their place with their instruments: violins, horns, violas, trombones, oboes, tubas, trumpets, a harp, flutes and a handful of percussion instruments. Octavia smiled to herself nervously. She was the only cellist for tonight's performance.

It was a single piece; the introduction to this year's Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. The composer of tonight's piece was a dear friend, and Octavia was proud to have the chance to perform it tonight in front of hundreds of Canterlot's finest ponies.

The lead oboe sang out a forlorn, sustained A. The audience hushed. The rest of the orchestra quietly began to play their own A. Octavia slowly drew her bow across the A string and listened intently. Each performer went through the tuning ritual, producing waves of different pitches up and down the scale as the strings players tested all of their strings, and minute adjustments were made. Each instrument slowly faded away as the various performers were satisfied with the results.

The sound reverberated through the hall for a moment, letting the sheer breadth of sound warmly linger in the air, filling the auditorium's audience with a sense of grandeur.

The conductor—an older, white unicorn mare with a blue mane and matching eyes—was shuffling nervously back and forth. Next to the unicorn, a green earth pony tapped her with a hoof and they both approached the conductor's podium. After the unicorn conductor stepped up to the podium, the earth pony trotted to a microphone on the side of the stage. A spotlight came on, illuminating him.

"Good evening, fillies and gentlecolts," he announced. "Tonight, we are going to be treated to some amazing performances—first up, we have the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Aeolian Mode." A second spotlight came on the conductor, who bowed deeply to the audience, her ears flicking this way and that while the warm light remained focused on her.

"And with a special solo performance by Canterlot's own Octavia Melody!" A third spotlight came on, this one right in Octavia's eyes, rendering her nearly blind to the audience. Hooves tapped out a light applause. The earth pony stepped aside, and the spotlights faded. The stage lights came up to a warm glow as the applaused died.

Out of the corner of her eye, Octavia saw the conductor pick up her baton with her magic. Every performer's instrument shifted from its resting position, now prepared to play. Octavia raised her bow. And with a flourish, the song began.

Andante.

Violins, flutes and bells rang out as the song began. The melody, initially, was familiar to ponies of all walks of life. A traditional Hearth's Warming tune, only fully orchestrated. Horns and violas followed several measures later as the sound built up to something more grand. More and more notes continued to shake up the leitmotif with each phrase, adding a bit of unique flavor.

Accelerando.

The tempo rose. This was Octavia's entrance. She placed her bow to her cello and let her lowing strings sing their song, building up to what would soon be her moment.

What was a soft jaunt before was now building into excitement as the old, traditional sounds faded in favor of a more modern interpretation that only vaguely resembled the original. The passage was coming to a climax. Octavia mentally steeled herself for what was to come.

Crescendo.

Octavia played her part, louder and louder, approaching the peak where her solo part would take over. The concert hall dimmed slightly, a spotlight appearing over Octavia as her solo began—The tempo and dynamic dropped sharply.

Elegy.

The orchestra faded away to just the soft cries of the horns, which faded away, and then soon, Octavia was alone. She had practiced this solo countless times. Her bow cried across the strings, a soft winter-time lament that grew into something... more. Octavia became lost in the music as she played—a memory that seemed like a lifetime ago coming to her mind.

Comments

[Greatazuredragon]

Beautiful work so far. Especialy how you describe the music.