Outside one of Ludwig’s windows, there was so much life. Beneath all the colorful electric lights, the string of evergreens and scarlet bows and bells, foals were having snowball fights in the streets while carolers sang their hearts out. The citizens of Ponyville were overall excited for their upcoming holiday.

However, inside the studio apartment, while Beethoven just got back to the hospital to a warm, clean and organized room, he didn’t bother to touch any of his pianos for the last few days. The stomping, loud singing, piano playing had become mute. Even the neighbors noticed how unusually quite their nosy neighbor was being.

With a blanket over him, he sat next to the only standing piano where his notebook was wide open but completely blank. Although he was so close to ending the third movement, his feelings prevented him from doing anything. With his elbows on his improvised desk and covering his eyes, his mind pondered at what the shadow said. At the same time, the twelfth or thirteenth bottle of cider sat there, almost half empty.

There was a knock on the door, in which Beethoven didn’t notice. One more knock later, the door to his apartment opened. To which four ponies stepped through, taken completely aback how bare the room was from the cheerful Hearths Warming decor.

“It’s so bare,” Dinky commented.

Lyra agreed, “Apart from all the bottles, it’s cleaner than it’s ever been. So where’s… never mind.”

Bon Bon was the first to approach the giant where she gently went around some of the bottles to where she gave a few gentle taps against his leg before he bolted up.

“Huh!” Ludwig jumped. “Oh, the neighbors,” he started to take in some calming breaths before asking, “What do you want? The scroll is by the nightstand.”

Derpy went over to fetch the scroll to which she flew it over to the piano and dropped it. By the time he unrolled it, the gray mare asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” the Landlady said, “We know you’ve just got home from the hospital and all, but you’ve been really quiet for the past few days.”

“It’s nothing,” Ludwig said softly.

“I beg to differ,” Bon Bon told him. “Nopony has heard you play for a while now, and you hardly made any noise. Plus with all these bottles around, it looks like you’ve been drinking. So what’s going on?”

The composer closed his notebook, “It doesn’t concern you,” he said. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“But it’s two in the afternoon,” Dinky objected. “We know something is wrong. So what is it?”

Ludwig looked up at his downstairs neighbors, “None of you are leaving without an answer, are you?” They nodded. With a sigh and grabbed the nearby bottle he replied before giving a swig. “I’ve received news that someone I care about has died. Now go away.”

This took all four ponies by surprise. “Oh sweetie,” Derpy flew over, putting a wing over him. “We didn’t-”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Beethoven snapped at her. Needless to say, the mailmare immediately backed away while Ludwig swings his arm around. “Leave me alone.” He slumped back on the piano.

“Okay then,” Lyra started backing away. “Uh, you know what guys; maybe we should come back later.

Dinky, however, with determination in her eyes, stepped forward. “No.”

“Who said that,” Ludwig looked up from the scroll in a demanding voice. “Who spoke?”

The little unicorn raised her hoof, “I did. I don’t care what you say; I am not going to leave you until you’re all better.”

This surprised the adults, “Uh Dinky,” Lyra warned, “What are you doing?”

“Doing the exact same thing that mommy did when daddy didn’t come back.” She hopped over onto the piano bench. While her mother landed next to her. “If nopony else, I’m going to be here for you. Not to say anything, but to be here when you need somepony the most. Whatever you’re feeling, no matter how much you don’t want to show it, that feeling deep down won’t ever go away until you set if free. Do what you need to, and let it go.”

Ludwig could only glare down at her, “I can’t decide if what you’re doing little one is either brave or foolish.”

“It worked for me when I missed daddy,” she simply explained.

“It really did,” Derpy said. “The way I did it was that I just sat next to her to really listen to all she had to say. Giving no judgment, no advice, just be there to really pay attention as she expressed herself. My muffin did so with her drawings to help her feel better. So what makes you feel better?”

He looked at the composition book before him, “Writing music.”

“Okay,” Derpy nodded. “Then just write out what you feel. We’ll be here to pay attention to you.”

At that point, Ludwig flipped the scroll upside down so he won’t be able to see what anyone else was saying. For a good long moment, he looked at one of the windows to where the snow was falling from, only listening to the ever-pressing humming. Then his attention turned to his composition book to which he flipped it to the near back of it to a blank page.

Without thinking, he wrote the clefs for a string quartet, in C minor. At the top of the page, he wrote the words: “Cavatina. Adagio molto expressive.” From that still silence, a soft voice emerges from the second violin, crying. Ludwig started to write out what was not only in his head but from his grief. He didn’t care if there were other ponies in the room, nor did he thought about the mistakes he was putting on paper. Ludwig started to sketch away at the depressing notes that spoke from his soul.

All he could think about was the words of the Shadow. “Perhaps I am lying, or perhaps I am telling the truth. Or maybe the fact is that your precious Karl has shot himself, and you weren't there to prevent it. Your nephew is dead, all because you refuse to finish the symphony.” The very idea that his adopted son had committed suicide was unthinkable, that his last chance of being a father was gone. Being worlds away, a sense of helplessness was overwhelming.

The composer made of fire felt tears forming in his eyes before they fell onto the pages. Tears dripped onto the score, creating a metronome-like beat to the pencil that was composing the quartet. Cello and Viola sang low while the two violins lean on each other for support as they weep. Beethoven’s imagination went into overdrive as he envisioned the worst – his nephew’s grave that carved in stone showed he died at the tender age of nineteen. Even the very number seems accusing him of having a part of taking Karl’s life.

“Gott im Himmel,” he spoke softly, “was habe ich gemacht?” He struggled to sketch out the notes now. “All mein Streben nach Tugend und gab es Karl... jetzt hat zu Asche verwandelt. Mein Kind, habe ich versucht... zu schützen, ist jetzt weg. Ich schob ihm zu weit. Ich verlangte zu viel. Was nützt ein Vater wie ich, als ich für mein Kind nicht da war, als er mich am meisten gebraucht?”

“What do you think he’s sayin’?” Bon Bon asked.

“Something really sad,” Lyra replied as they too walked over to Beethoven. “I wish there was something we could do for him.”

“What he needs most,” Derpy said, “Is to have somepony by his side. Give him time to grieve so he may feel better afterward.” She looked over to them as Ludwig continued to sob. “We just have to be patient. Dinky,” she patted her daughter on her head, “I’m proud of you.”

The little unicorn smiled, “I’ve learned from the best.”

Lyra, meanwhile, looked around the room, “Hold on, has Mr. Beethoven eaten at all? Where are the plates?”

“Oh dear,” Bon Bon commented, “Perhaps somepony should at least fix the poor guy something.”

“What about that dumpling soup from the other night? Do we have any left?”

“I’ll go look,” the candymare looked over at the dejected composer, “Poor guy.”

_*_

It took at least an hour to get Mr. Beethoven to calm down; he mainly spoke in German and sketched out the rest of the movement. Once Ludwig had no more tears to shed, only then was he ready to listen to what his neighbors had to say as somepony brought him soup. Ludwig told them in further detail about what the shadow had mentioned about his adopted son.

“That sound’s awful,” Bon Bon commented. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“So this Shadow thing,” Dinky spoke up. “Could it really do all those things? I mean, being able to sneak anywhere without anypony noticing?”

“Apparently so little one,” Ludwig took another bite of a dumpling.

“How do we know that the Shadow isn’t here right now?”

This gave all the adults some pause, some of them looked down at the floor at their own shadows. Lyra shuttered, “It’s almost like the whole Changeling scare again.”

“A what?” Beethoven asked as he looked up from the magic scroll.

“A Changeling,” his Landlady repeated, “do you know what they are?”

“Do you mean the fairytales?” Ludwig asked, putting down his spoon. “I think I’ve heard of them when I was a child in own country.”

“Really?” Dinky piped up. “You mean you have Changelings in your world?”

The old man shook his head, “Merely fairytales. In places in Europe like England, Scotland, and Poland, there's an old tale of which they used to explain children that are afflicted by sickness or deformed. As a child, I heard that they came with many names like, Wechselkind, meaning ‘change child.’ Where infants are stolen by fairies and are replaced by their own, for various reasons. They say that they come in the middle of the night to take the infants out from their cribs and put their children in their place that looks like the one they just replaced. But as I said, they are only superstitious fairytales.”

All the ponies looked at one another, “How do you know it’s superstitious?” Bon Bon questioned.

“Because, where I come from, we had a movement called the Enlightenment in which we studied the world, not by religion or folk legions, but by the truth of nature itself. Those who are more educated will tell you that the deformities are not from fairies but caused by natural forces. Besides, no one was able to catch a real fairy or a changeling. Until then, Changelings are only fairytales to me, only told to frighten people.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Dinky said. “About the Shadow thing, what I really want to ask is, what did it say if you did write out your music?”

“The creature said that if I complete the symphony, I will return home. Same place, same…” he then sat up, “time…” he looked over at his composition book with a realization, “maybe this isn’t a commission for me anymore.”

He felt a hoof tapping his shoulder, looking over to see Derpy before looking at the scroll, the mailmare asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The shadow said that if I complete the tenth symphony in a year’s time, I will go back the exact same time and place as I left. And if what the creature said was true, that Karl died at his own hand two months ago… This is no longer a commission by some demon anymore; this is a rescue to save his life. I am going to finish writing this symphony, even if I am on my death bed!”

Ludwig flipped open his notebook to the unfinished First Movement, “I just need to work out the cannon, short concerto, and fugue,” he muttered to himself. But before he could start sketching, he looked up at the mares around him. “Now I have a purpose and I thank you all for it. And you know what? Since all of you have helped me a good deal, as well as this town, I’m now more determined to make sure that my gift to all of you will be perfect.”

Dinky’s ears perked up, “You’re giving all of us a present?”

Beethoven nodded, “Hopefully I can rally the orchestra in time for your Hearths Warming.”