What you sat on...

by Owlor

Dear Pinkie Pie

Dear Pinkie Pie

As you should be aware, a tree does not grow overnight. Indeed, in the growth rings you can see quite clearly how even the mightiest oak has grown at the rate of at most a centimetre a year. And the early life of a tree is hardly unproblematic. In fact, by the time a tree has gotten to that age, it has survived countless attacks by grazing animals, forests fires and loggers. Not to mention a number of diseases that can completely ruin the wood.

Getting a wide enough plank for a cello requires a tree at least half a century years old. For a double bass, almost a full century, and most trees simply won't make it this long with its quality intact. In fact, out of a thousand trees, only about a hundred produce wood of the right quality to be used in musical instruments, and of those all but ten will be useful only for low-budget fare. And out of those ten, only one will be deemed good enough to be used by a master luthier.

It isn't strictly a matter of quality, but also one of history. An old tree is like a history book and quite often a better one than the one that would've been printed on its pulp had it been harvested a decade earlier. The weather of each year has left its own mark on the growth rings. For example, maples older than 75 years will have a missing ring due to the infamous “year with no summer”. And considering the overall change in climate, it can be safely said that an instrument made a century ago simply won't have the same qualities as one made today.

Oh, and don't get the idea that all you need for a good instrument is “a tree”, no matter how high-quality that tree may be. In order to get the properties exactly like, you need to layer several types of wood. Each instrument maker has their own 'recipe' which they'd prefer to keep a secret, but for a basic cello, you need four elements:
* Spruce, representing winter.
* Maple, representing autumn.
* Willow, representing spring,
* A varnish made out of egg-whites, gum and honey representing summer.
Each ingredient needs to be high-quality, even the type of honey has a certain influence over the harmonics, or so I'm lead to believe.

Not to trivialize the contributions of the luthiers; anypony who know how to cook knows that it doesn't matter how good the ingredients are, a bad cook will only spoil them. And instrument-making, more than most arts is a skill that can only be perfected through generations. There's a reason most luthiers are known only through their family name, such as the brilliant Guarius family, or even the popular but overrated Strato-various. However, both of those families have died out by now, and with them, their secrets.

The art of instrument-making itself have grown like a tree, small and primitive at first, mainly focused on lyres and harps, but reaching out to the heavens once the foundation was solid enough. And like a tree, it' endured its share of 'forest-fires'. A lot of luthiers simply went insane during the Discordian era, and it's only due to the zealous (and at the time illegal) archival efforts of the former court librarian, Jupiter Sparkle that even a fraction of pre-Discordian knowledge could be salvaged. Many families had to re-learn their art from scratch, the ones that didn't just disband and became farmers, that is.

Even a personal tragedy can rattle the foundations, if not bring it down completely. The last stallion who possessed the secret of the braided bowstring technique committed suicide over the death of his lover, who died at sea. Maybe it's only a story, but they say that she actually survived; lived on a deserted island for a year until she got picked up by a sailboat and that she was on her way home around the time he killed himself. A whole school of instrument-making could've been saved if the northern winds had been more cooperative and she had arrived just an hour earlier.

But like I said, that's just a story. Do you want another one? Well, exactly 1245 years ago, a mare called Delirium Do got it in her head to travel to the west Horse-shoe Peninsula. In her diary she states that she had a dream that she'd meet her true love there. She brought a a house and its surrounding forest, in which she found was a grove of rather unusual oak trees. The unique terroir had produced an unusually thick kind of wood, with long, fine fibres that gave it a springy quality. Being an entrepreneuring sort, she immediately went out looking for potential buyers of the wood and happened on a mr. Guarius Twain.

The stallion was the only practising member of the family at the time, but his business was not going well. His instruments had gotten a bad reputation due to a disastrous performance at the Nocticular Opera house. The fact that the violinist was drunk at the performance had been kept from the public in order to prevent a scandal and the sensationalist press opted to blame his alto-violin instead. (Unfairly, I might add.)

So, he was all set to close up the shop when Delirium convinced him to build one last cello, just to try out the wood. I suspect that she was less interested in the artistry, or having him as a customer than she was in getting inside that frock coat of his, but the result was spectacular. The oak married perfectly with the spruce and produced a rich deep tone that became nothing short of legendary. This made him an in-demand instrument maker again, with lots of advances coming in.

A year later, they both got married. Sadly, it would mark the beginning of the end for their relationship. Delirium started to matter less and less to him now that he was getting rich enough to attract attention from young socialites. The record of his infidelities is extensive, to say the least. At the same time some of Delirium's mental instabilities began to manifest themselves. She had never been the most stable of ponies, but Twain had kept her grounded. Unfortunately, there was nopony around to keep him grounded.

When he discovered that he could play to his wife’s loose grasp of reality by simply denying he had gone anywhere after a night of salt rocks and loose mares, he took advantage of this 'gaslighting' technique quite frequently. All those nights she spent alone thinking he was still there didn't do good things to her mind. Her inner demons caught up with her one faithful night when she set fire to the grove just to get his attention. After burning down most of the forest, including her old shack, she migrated to Canida where she became a farmer.

After the prototype, only three cellos were made using the same wood and model. One of the cellos is currently at the talons of the griffins following their invasion in '09. Another was the concert instrument of the bassist Clammy Boots until it got broken during the riots at the première performance of “Rides of Spring”.

The last one was missing for many years until it was found in the attic of Quartz Tiara's summer home. She should have gotten it appraised, but the family's finance was in ruins and she needed some bits quick. She auctioned it off during a garden party that happened to be attended by a young classical music enthusiast... me!

I fell completely in love with its timbre and its simple, but competent design and I bought it, even tough I was hardly rich at that point in time. It cost me every single bit I had saved up for college and even then it wasn't a fraction of the prize it was worth. In all honesty, I never intended to spend that much on it, but I got into a bidding-war with some nouveau riche hag named Amberol Scratch, and in the heat of the moment, I went “all in”, as they say. My family were... less than pleased with this decision, in fact they kicked me out on the spot.

I spent the next half a year with my crazy uncle down in Stalliongrad, playing gigs at the local jazz clubs together with a band to raise money for my education at the Royal Philharmonic School. Things were looking up... right up until the point where my uncle tried to cop a feel on me. I could blame his drink but truth is, he had always been a dirty old goat and he misinterpreted some of my comments. I didn't really have anywhere else to go, but after that I think it was obvious to both of us that I had to leave.

I did so in the middle of the night, with my cello in its case, the few bits I had managed to scrape together and nothing else. I should probably have taken it to the pawnbroker, gotten myself a loan and rented room at some flophouse somewhere, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I lived for a year busking at day and at night sleeping under a bridge clutching the case like a lover.

I think the loneliness was the worst part of it, I could deal with the poverty and the occasional sleepless night hiding from the guards. It might even have been somewhat exciting, like in the stories of Olive Twist, if I just had somepony to share it with. Over time, I got used to being invisible, however. I played my music for deaf ears, hoping for somepony to throw me a few bits out of pity. All thoughts of finding love had been soundly erased from my mind, then I met this stallion...

He had it all, he was rich, handsome and classy and he apparently got entranced enough with the simple melodies played by some humble bum in Equestria's shining city to fall in love with her. The whole thing played out like a fairy tale, he got me back on my feet and I discovered how much I had missed the supposedly dull life of fancy dinner parties, opera nights and mingling.

One day I got the letter I had been dreaming about for my entire adult life, an acceptance letter from the Royal Philharmonic School. When I saw the monogram “RPS” I knew immediately what it was and my mind stopped working for the rest of the evening. I had him open the letter, my hooves where shaking too much and when he read it to me in that fancy accent of his I must've cried a little.

It didn't completely end like a fairy tale, however. We broke up fairly undramatically a few months into my first term because... well, let's just say that his affinity for my music may have obscured the fact that he wasn't as into mares as he first thought. I can't help but wonder if I had been holding him back without realizing it, because it was only after he broke up with me that he became the phenomenon he now is. You've probably seen his name in the papers: Hoity-Toity.

Anyhow, I'm rambling. I just wanted to give you a sense of just how rare a good musical instrument is, and how much it means, not just as a tool, but as a piece of history and a personal treasure... So that you know what you sat on.

Sincerly
– Octavia Philharmonica, Chardonnay Avenue, Canterlot

Comments

[Celestias Paladin]

Nicely done though I think I need to go rewatch that scene... luckily have have all of season 1 on DVD so...

Alright, you did a good job on this. Even the modern made string instruments still take a long to time to craft.

[Twilitbook]

*stands up and applauds* If one was looking for a comedy, a piece of sadness, or deep touching life, I'm afraid they won't ind it here.

If they're looking for a wholesome, informative piece with just the right amount of creative freedom to make it real and a story, then this is something that ANYONE who knows a thing about stringed-instrument would enjoy. Always a pleasure to come across pieces like these.

Bravo.

Edit: WOW. Really? 1 dislike already? Some people have been reading too much clop.

[lupin the vapour]

This should get featured callin it right now.

[Owlor]

1921962
Well, to be clear, it's not something that happens "on camera", I wanted to explore the idea of Octavia writing a letter to someone who accidently destroyed her cello and I was thinking "Hmm, who could've plausibly done such a thing?"

1921989

If one was looking for a comedy, a piece of sadness, or deep touching life, I'm afraid they won't find it here.

Too bad, that was what I was going for... (comedy in that it's essentially a shaggy dog story, sadness in that it's exploring the rich history of something that got destroyed and life in that I wanted a sense that ponies troughout history have struggled with interpersonal problems and that history isn't just a bunch of famous names and dates) Well, Can't win 'em all, I guess.

this is something that ANYONE who knows a thing about stringed-instrument would enjoy.

Tough it has to be said that at some point, artistic licence comes into play. In the end, it's a story, not a factual account and I encoruage anyone who finds the topic interesting to look up the actual history and facts behind this, I guarantee that it's at least twice as interesting as this fic.

[Celestias Paladin]

1922131
Was her double bass really destroyed or not?

[Owlor]

1922156
No, not explicitly, like I said, it's more of a "what-if" scenario.

[Twilitbook]

1922131

*blinks* Well, I didn't realize the Cello got destroyed. I thought Pinkie just sat on it. I mean... Pinkie Pie... 99% sure she could sit on a glass thread and not break cause screw physics, its Pinkie Pie. I thought it was Octavia writing the letter because Pinkie Pie showed such disrespect to an instrument with a rich and colorful history.

Not familiar with the shaggy god concept story, sorry. Its definitely a good SOL story, but not something that makes me go "Wow, that was super deep and profound." Its a wholesome story for sure.

[Celestias Paladin]

1922176
Ah... I see. I'm kind with Dawnscroll about it, Pinkie did show disrespect to the bass and could have damaged it.

[Owlor]

1922190

I thought it was Octavia writing the letter because Pinkie Pie showed such disrespect to an instrument with a rich and colorful history.

That interpetation works too, and I think I find that idea funnier.

Not familiar with the shaggy god concept story, sorry.

Shaggy dog-story... well' its a type of joke that goes on for very long building up to a punchline that either isn't there, is kinda lame or just unexpected. A real shaggy dog story is usually based on a pun, such as this example by Isaac Asimov:

As is well known, in this thirtieth century of ours, space travel is fearfully dull and time-consuming. In search of diversion, many crew Members defy the quarantine restrictions and pick up pets from the various habitable worlds they explore.

Jim Sloane had a rockette, which he called Teddy. It just sat there, looking like a rock, but sometimes it lifted a lower edge and sucked in powdered sugar. That was all it ate. No one ever saw it move, but every once in a while, it wasn’t quite where people thought it was. There was a theory that it moved when no one was looking.

Bob Laverty had a heli-worm he called Dolly. It was green and carried on photosynthesis. Sometimes it moved to get into better light and when it did so it coiled its wormlike body and inched along very slowly like a turning helix.

One day, Jim Sloane challenged Bob Laverty to a race. ” My Teddy,” he said, “can beat your Dolly.”
“Your Teddy,” scoffed Laverty, “doesn’t move.”
“Bet!” said Sloane.

The whole crew got into the act. Even the captain risked half a credit. Everyone bet on Dolly. At least she moved.

Jim Sloane covered it all. He had been saving his salary through three trips and he put every millicredit of it on Teddy.

The race started at one end of the grand salon. At the other end, a heap of sugar had been placed for Teddy and a spotlight for Dolly. Dolly formed a coil at once and began to spiral its way very slowly toward the light. The watching crew cheered it on.

Teddy just sat there without budging.

“Sugar, Teddy, Sugar,” said Sloane, pointing. Teddy did not move. It looked more like a rock than ever, but Sloane did not seem concerned.

Finally, when Dolly had spiraled halfway across the salon, Jim Sloane said casually to his rockette, “if you don’t get out there, Teddy, I’m going to get a hammer and chip you into pebbles.”

That was when people first discovered that rockettes could read minds. That was also when people first discovered that rockettes could teleport.

Sloane had no sooner made his threat when Teddy simply disappeared from his place and reappeared on top of the sugar.

Sloane won, of course, and he counted his winnings slowly and luxuriously.
Laverty said bitterly, “You knew the damn thing could teleport.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Sloane, “but I knew he would win. It was a sure thing.”
“How come?”
“It’s an old saying everyone knows. … Sloane’s Teddy wins the race.”

(Slow and steady wins the race, geddit?)

As a side note, there IS such a thing as a Shaggy God story, it's a nickname to a type of science fiction story where the twist is that the story is a sci-fi retelling of a biblical account, most often Genesis.

Its definitely a good SOL story, but not something that makes me go "Wow, that was super deep and profound." Its a wholesome story for sure.

Well, it was never intended to be, I just wanted to make a nice slice of life story, and if that's what I managed to do, I'm pretty satisfied.

[SuperPinkBrony12]

Oh Pinkie Pie I'll bet you wish you hadn't done that now.

[Syvvak]

Good story. Had some mistakes but very good. I believe this seems more of the letter she would write if it was disrespected, not destroyed. Also, was the pony she was bidding against Vinyls mon?

[Owlor]

1925645

I believe this seems more of the letter she would write if it was disrespected, not destroyed.

Yeah, I've been changing my mind on the interpetation of my own story, which just goes to show that I just write the stuff, I don't necesseriy know what it means either...

Also, was the pony she was bidding against Vinyls mon?

Eeeyup, Amberol was a brand of phonograph cylinders from the Edison company. I just liked the sound of the word and it made sense as a precursor to Vinyl.

[Syvvak]

1925686

That is now my new head canon for OC Vinyl mom. Cool thought btw.

[theYasha]

Pinkie's only possible reactions:

1 Oh no i cant believe I sat on such an important thing *shame*

2 What? So? The point? That was stupid. This is boring. Oh! I know! I'll go pranking with Dashie!

[Alex Warlorn]

perfected trough generations.
perfected through generations.

known only trough their family name,
known only through their family name,

Very very very very very very very VERY NICE work. Here's hoping Pinkie actually READS the letter all the way through.

[Alex Warlorn]

I get the feeling these two mares know each other SOMEHOW.

[reader238]

I liked octavia's letter to pinkie pie; she gave her a sense of exactly how much care and hard work went into making such a fine instrument. Even going as far as comparing it to that of a bakers job, and then goes on to tell pinkie how much the instrument means to her personally and all the hardships she faced with that cello, then she wraps up with subtling telling pinkie how annoyed she was when when pinkie disrespected instrument and long time friend by sitting on her.

[Lucefudu]

1922190 Are you kidding me? Pinkie Pie sat on it. The pony whose diet consist of basically 99% carbohydrates! These go straight to her flanks, y'know?!
Only Rarity's butt could top that.

Ah... Rarity's butt...

Uncover the secret message by trying to read what I wrote here >I'm just fucking with Owlor. But now that you've found the secret message, please send your answer to Old Pink, care of the Funny Farm, Chalfont. Oh, hang on! Carolyne's on the phone.

[The Iguana Man]

Enjoyed it, but I agree that it works a lot better if Pinkie didn't destroy it, just disrespected it, for three reasons:

1. I don't think Pinkie, as impulsive and thoughtless as she is, would ever do something like that, even by accident.
2. It speaks about Octavia's character that she'd have this sort of reaction to someone disrespecting an instrument, and
3. If Pinkie did destroy an instrument of such rich history, both grand and personal, even with someone as reserved as Octavia on the receiving end... yeah, she's not getting out of that one with all of her limbs.

Hmm, psycho Octavia, now there's a thought...

[Owlor]

Hmm, psycho Octavia, now there's a thought..

Well... if you find my furaffinity page, I might've drawn something like that already....

[Themaskedferret]

Beautiful. I'm only sorry it took me so long to read it.

[Heart of Blades]

Read this what feels like ages ago and forgot to comment and fav. Shame on me! Anyway, amazing one-shot, the whole premise is certainly something I see Octy doing.

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

Bravo. Just... bravo. You have no idea how much I'd give to have Pinkie read this letter.

[thelonesomeone]

she doesn't read it she would be too focused on the pretty paper to bother reading the letter. so its a waste of effort but hey whatever makes you feel better about yourself.

[Alex Warlorn]

This remains a classic!

[ObabScribbler]

[PresentPerfect]

This was quite good, and somehow, my favorite part is Olive Twist. :D

[MixMassBasher]

What a nice introspection of Octavia's thoughts on instrument making and its' history. Nicely done!