Author's Notes:

Not sure if it's any good, but here you go.

Lyra and Bon Bon had sat down for breakfast by the time that Ludwig was pacing around above their heads. The candy maker was reading the newspaper while the unicorn was spreading marmalade on a piece of toast. As she took a bite, Bon Bon said aloud, “Hey Lyra, take a look at this in the advertisements.”

The unicorn took hold of the paper in her aura, “Where?”

“It’s underneath the shampoo add, do you see it?”

She did, “Huh… the prices for radios have gone down a bit, have they?”

“Yeah, they were about two hundred bits last month, but now it’s half that.” Bon Bon turned to her cereal. “If it keeps dropping at this rate, do you think we might be able to afford it?”

“Maybe the price could be reasonable by Hearths Warming,” Lyra gave the paper back to her. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting idea, to have a gadget like that in the house?”

“We could probably catch up with those rich ponies that already own them. Besides, it would probably be nice to listen in to something to drown out whatever he’s doing.” She pointed a hoof towards the ceiling.

“Well… sure,” Lyra said, “But it’s not like he can’t play anything good himself. I mean, we’ve probably heard some pretty good piano music whenever he actually plays it.” Then she looked up in thought, "Say, Bonnie, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you think the upstairs is haunted?"

To this, Bon Bon raised an eyebrow, "Like ghosts or something?"

"Well yeah," she nodded. "I mean, apart from his stomping and playing music, did you ever pick up some whispering too?"

The Candymare shrugged, "Not really, I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary as of late."

Lyra looked up at the ceiling in thought, trying to change the subject. “Do you think that all humans are like him, or is he just the one?”

“Huh?”

“What I mean is, are all humans deaf or is it just him?”

Bon Bon groaned, “Not this again.”

“What? There’s a real human right over our heads that, despite his condition, has the capability of playing well. Besides, if what those critics say about his first two symphonies is true, he might have some real talent in writing music. Kinda makes you wonder if humans have a strong culture around music or something. Maybe he might know a thing or two about the instruments we use like my lyre or-”

The landlady’s train of thought was suddenly derailed as they heard a splashing sound right above them, and instantly the two ponies swiped their food away before a rain shower descended upon the kitchen table.

“Ugh! Again!” Bon Bon looked up in annoyance. “Why does he keep doing that? He knows there’s a bathroom up there to do this!”

“Maybe it’s a human thing,” Lyra said sheepishly while the Candymare looked at her with a sharpen gaze. With a sigh, the mint green unicorn put away her breakfast. “Okay, fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

“That’s gotta be like the sixteenth time this week alone!” the Earth Pony complained. “Does he know what that does to the floor?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Lyra said as she walked out of the apartment. Closing the door behind her, she turned around to nearly run into somepony. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“No, it’s fine,” Octavia said. “Aren’t you the landlady here?”

“Yeah?” she raised an eyebrow, “why?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Beethoven; I need to speak with him.”

“Funny, I was about to go up to him myself to talk with him.”

The two of them went over to the door that leads to the second floor. Since the front door was unlocked, meaning that he was awake, the two of them went through and up the stairs to the other door at the top. There they found Beethoven; his shirt was off and tied at his waist drying his head that was dripping with water.

“Oh my,” Octavia gasped as she saw what state the room was in. Although Ludwig had by now moved in for little over a week, the floor had scattered music sheets and piles of dishes lying all over the place. Besides the three legless pianos, she noticed that there was a puddle of what she hoped was water that was nearest to them.

Lyra went up to him and tugged on his trousers, “Huh?” Ludwig turned around. “Ah, the landlady and Octavia, what are you doing here this early in the morning?” He walked over to the only standing piano and offered them the conversation book.

The unicorn picked it up and wrote down a note for him.

First of all, what happened to the maid that Twilight had sent you?

“I fired her,” he said as he untied the sleeves of the shirt that was around his waist and went over to the box where his clothes are. “A few days ago, I came back home to find that she not only had stuffed my boots with my music, but she made my other shirts too stiff and washed off a piece of my symphony off the walls without so much as copying them. If you want to get me a new maid, make sure the next one doesn’t disregard whatever I wrote.”

Lyra continued:

I’ll make an urgent note to Twilight about that.

Secondly, I’ve been given complaints from everypony downstairs about your behavior. You play too long into the night; make noise in the morning, and not to mention that you keep dumping water on my kitchen table! If you’re going to live here, could you at least show some courtesy to everypony below?

“Well forgive me if I happen to work harder so that I happen to miss my real home,” he said as he pulled out a shirt.

This has nothing to do with work, you already know the rules about playing loud music past ten o’clock in the evening and to dump that water over your head in the bathtub! We don’t try to bother you since we try to leave you alone, but you haven’t left any of us in peace. I really do want to let you stay here, but if this keeps up, then I’ll force myself to take up action if this continues.

“Call it a force of habit,” he said as he buttoned up. “I don’t know if I can trust that bathroom anyway, with all your newfangled complicated pipes that I have no idea where it all goes.”

Lyra facehoofed, “Is that why it smells like an open sewer in here?”

“What?” Ludwig asked.

The unicorn wrote down a quick message.

I’ll tell you what, as long as you use the bathtub from now on to dump water over your head, I’ll be sure to tell Princess Twilight about the maid problem. Deal?

“Don’t worry, I’m about to go out for my walks anyway to compose.” Mr. Beethoven then turned to Octavia, “So what are you here for?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Octavia said to Lyra, “Might I borrow this?”

Once the conversation book was passed to her, the landlady went downstairs while the Cellist wrote her message.

I’ve actually come on behalf of the orchestra Mr. Beethoven. To put it short, it’s about the third symphony you’ve given us and the piano concertos you’ve assigned to Mr. Horseshoepin.

“Funny you should mention it,” Ludwig said as he tied a cravat around his collar. “I was playing to go up to Canterlot myself about the matter. How is it coming along?”

We’ve been going your symphonies and the fourth piano concerto for over a week now and I do want to ask you this: Are you trying to make life a little more difficult for the rest of us? For starters, the third symphony alone is massive! Not to mention that the mood keeps changing all the time and we have arguments on how this thing is supposed to sound like. There are so many markings in the score that it’s extremely difficult to read, much less to keep it at the right tempo you’ve dictated. And don’t get me started on what you’re putting my pianist friend through! Our instruments are barely holding together after each rehearsal!

To top it all off, do you have any idea how difficult it is playing this music? I had to explain to my friend Vinyl that it’s like playing “Dragon’s Mare,” “Faster Than Light,” “Dark Souls,” “Mega Mare 9,” “Battlefrogs,” all at the same time, on expert mode, upside down, blindfolded – yet, that is only the training to how difficult playing that symphony is.

“I don’t know what you mean by these names down here,” Ludwig pointed at the last paragraph. “But if I understand what you’re saying, you find my symphony very difficult?” She nodded, “I thought I was told that you were the best?”

“We are,” Octavia said slowly.

“So are you telling me that you can’t play it?”

All I’m saying is that this music is extremely difficult. Don’t get me wrong Mr. Beethoven; we’ve come to the consensuses that what you’ve written is epic, and pioneering. But it’s so hard to play.

By now, Ludwig was putting on his waistcoat, “Tell your orchestra to play it exactly as I have written it. All the notes that I have written are exactly as where they need to be. Besides, I’m letting your friend play my piano concertos anyway for when he tried to make a fool out of me.”

Look, the point here is that we need you in Canterlot now so you can sort out the mess that’s going on in that theater. Besides, this may be the only time you’ll be able to hear it.

“What do you mean?”

I mean that there’s something that we’ve just found out yesterday that does require your attention. Since our Memorial Day is coming up next week and given the theme of the symphony, Celestia herself is inviting the orchestra to premiere it at the palace before her, Prince Shining Armor, and a good portion of the Royal Guard and their families. Since we’re not exactly prepared, it’s gotten everypony really stressed about the whole situation. Simply put, we need your help.

“But why would this be the only time that I’ll be able to hear it?” Beethoven inquired as he put on his overcoat and hat. “Won’t your friend have the hearing machine ready by the time of the premiere?”

Octavia shook her head.

She’ll be in Los Pegasus by then. There are openings during our rehearsal week, but we can’t agree on what this new music is supposed to sound like. We need you to come over today to sort this thing out.

Sighing, Ludwig put on his hat, stuffed his coat with paper, pencils and the conversation book and picked up his walking stick, he said, “Very well Fräulein, to Canterlot.”

_*_

Even when Beethoven couldn’t hear it, there was anxiety ringing inside the theater. Ludwig could read the nervousness off of their faces as they looked through the score one more time. Some of them were either tuning their instruments or making sure that what they’re playing won’t break as some of them have.

There on a music stand right next to the conductor’s laid a pair of headphones resting with a wire running off backstage. Overhead there was the familiar black microphone that dangled like a piece of fruit from a tree. No doubt that the DJ had already set this up.

“Giant’s here,” somepony from the horn section said as Ludwig and Octavia climbed up onto the stage.

Before Beethoven could sit down, he noticed that something was missing from the orchestra, he turned to the conductor, “Where’s the third horn?” he pointed to the brass section.

Sea Sharp said slowly, “Why would we need a third horn player for?”

“It’s for the dance in the third movement,” he said. “I had it written specifically for that. You can’t play this symphony without it.”

Octavia tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, “Why not we just play through the first movement first?”

“Play the movement first?”

She shook her head, “First movement, as a start.”

Ludwig eventually sat down and looking over off to the side of the stage, saw a white unicorn with all of her gadgets giving him a nod. After putting on the headphones over his skull, he told them, “Begin.” With that, the conductor raised her baton and the orchestra readied themselves for the musical trek.

Beethoven listen intensely for the first few seconds of it until he suddenly pulled the earphones off his head, stood up and yelled: “STOP!” The Philharmonic quickly died down, “What was that?”

“We’re sorry sir,” one of the ponies said. However, Ludwig asked what he said before putting his headphones back on. “I said we’re sorry maestro, we’re trying-”

“Don’t apologize!” Beethoven snapped, “Don’t give me petty excuses! I was told that you’re the best, but what I picked up was the exact opposite!” Ludwig sat back down, taking a deep breath he said, “Obviously, there’s much work to do and we have very little time. So to begin with, give me the first two chords.”

They did, and Ludwig shook his head, “Again, louder.” They tried, “Louder still.”

The conductor looked over at him, “But sir, we don’t play louder than that.”

“Are you telling me that this orchestra is incapable of producing a thunderclap as it supposed to be?”

“Of course we can play it,” a stallion in the percussionist section called out.

“Spielen sie dann für die Liebe Christi!”

Even though nopony in that theater had any idea what he just said, one pony that was playing the clarinets nervously raised a hoof, “Excuse me, but couldn’t we take it slower this time?”

“Absolutely not,” Beethoven adjusted the headphones. “The very start is a summons, one that cannot be slow, but urgent.” Putting both ears over his head, he said only one word: “Again.”

So the orchestra readied itself for the first two, thunderous chords.