Moonlight Sonata

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"A great poet is the most precious jewel of a nation."

Ludwig van Beethoven

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Crow touched the 'piano' with a finger. Oblio had told him that this was an 'instrument,' supposedly able to play music. This, the little crow-wing doubted.

He circled the large item, which occupied a lot of space. It was quite enormous and had the same color as his feathers. Crow touched a soft plume from his wings. He carefully selected a single feather and compared its color to the piano. They matched.

As the little crow-wing observed, he noticed the strange shape of the rather enormous instrument. He was unsure of how it was played. On one side it had a wooden cover propped up by a long, thin stick.

Viewing it from another angle gave Crow a completely different impression. Rows of petite black and white 'keys,' as Oblio had said. As there was little room to maneuver, Crow decided not to hover, but he longed for a view from above.

The piano was tempting to Crow. He touched a smooth white key and heard a sound, a solid note that vanished slowly. He tried again. The same note. Intrigued, Crow attempted to play a different note. He pressed down another key, this time a black one that was placed to the top-right of the first key.

His hypothesis being correct, it produced a different note. This time it was higher. Crow then chose a note that was further left, and a lower note came from it.

Baffled by where these noises were coming from, Crow got up on to the leathery black seat in front of the keys, and peered above the front of the piano, noticing long, shiny strings that were pulled taut and tight.

Each string was located behind a key. Crow experimented with one, and the string behind it quivered. Crow dared move closer, noticing the sounds it made.

Amazing... thought the curious little crow-wing, and yet he was still feeling that thirst for more, more knowledge. As a young creature born to feel curiosity, he simply couldn't resist.

Finding the source of this wonderful sound was not yet enough. And so Crow explored once more, getting off the seat he had been sitting so comfortably on.

Runes... Crow noticed small silver runes. Oblio could probably 'read' those, but he had once explained to Crow about what these symbols meant. They are the name of the company who built this piano, Crow recalled Oblio say.

What are these? A row of brassy-colored items underneath the keys. If Crow sat on the leathery seat again, his feet would be able to touch the items. They were like little platforms. Oblio addressed them as 'pedals,' and when Crow asked for what their uses were, he merely replied for Crow to find out on his own.

Trusting the word of the only human he felt comfortable with, Crow rested one foot on one of the pedals. Nothing happened, but he realized that, with a little pressure, he could press the pedal down. And yet, he still met no result. He attempted to make something happen by pressing a key.

It sustained the note, even though Crow was no longer playing it. Crow then selected certain pedals and met different results with each one. Once finished, the innocent young crow-wing leaned back, balancing himself on the seat.

Boredom made him yawn. He was not one to typically feel like he needed something to satisfy himself, but for once he felt disconcerted. He tipped himself a little lower and almost toppled over the seat.

Attempting to regain his dignity, the slightly shaken crow-wing began to play the piano. He was definitely not an expert, for whenever he played a note he was unsure of which one to play next. Oblio had told him that humans would play the instrument as a form of self-entertainment, but Crow failed to see how one would find enjoyment.

Whenever he pressed a key he found little pleasure in the note it made. He then used both his hands, and pressed ten white keys in turn with each finger. Dissatisfied, he played them two-by-two, from his thumbs to the rest of his fingers. It created notes that clashed against each other; an overall distorted sort of performance.

From the leftmost fingers of each hand, Crow tried to play the piano again. This time the notes still would not synchronize, however, but they met the ear better than the last one. Crow moved his right hand so that there was a distance of two keys, and then three. Once there were three keys between his hands, his playing sounded better.

"Crow?"

The crow-wing heard Oblio and turned his head around to see the human sticking his head into the open doorway. His blue hair was ruffled as if he had been on a very rough motorcycle ride. Crow noted that he had begun to grow used to using the foreign words that humans used.

"Yes?"

He titled his head, and Oblio smoothed back some of his hair. Crow planted his fingers into the piano again, causing a solid ten notes to resound, and soon fade away. Oblio smiled. "I see you've been taking interests lately," he remarked.

Slightly tipped off, Crow nodded. "I don't know why, but this piano..." He couldn't find the words he needed to continue, despite going so confidently into the sentence. A fondness made him brush his fingers against the white keys, and occasionally touch the black ones with the tip of his finger.

Oblio watched, blinking his hazel eyes. Crow hadn't the words to describe what he felt towards the piano. It was a strange sense of longing and nostalgia. It was strange; he had never seen a piano before.

"Here," Oblio offered, and Crow stood up, so that Oblio could use the leather seat. Crow's wings were becoming somewhat inconvenient, so he retracted them in a flurry of smoky feathers. Oblio placed both hands on a selection of piano keys.

And then he played.

Crow listened as Oblio played a strange symphony, that began at a slow and steady pace, gradually lowering its notes so that it presented a sort of grave impression. And yet it was wonderful to hear. Crow hummed under his breath. Oblio was playing with such a passionate expression that Crow stopped humming, and watched as Oblio continued, with the piano's notes ringing in the air.

It was more than a fair pleasantness that Crow heard. It was quite difficult to explain what he felt, but Crow was soothed and calmed by the continuous vibration of the strings as Oblio rhythmically hummed along. Crow did the same, and the notes never stopped coming.

There was an odd tingling in Crow, something that was hair-raising, but it was warm and fuzzy, and Crow found himself liking the sound of a piano. It was not a bad thing, he decided, to prove a certain enjoyment to a human's creation.

For many wing-beats, Oblio sat there, creating a brief world of music and adventure. It was so new to Crow, but he loved it. He watched as Oblio ended the sequence, and was surprised to find a tinge of regret as the music stopped. "Play something else," he pleaded. "It was so beautiful."

Agreeably, Oblio nodded. "It is, isn't it? It's like poetry, but it's at the same time so different," he pointed out. Crow nodded; Oblio had taught him poetry, but the crow-wing immediately found the piano far more eye-catching; or ear-catching, if the phrase was more appropriate. He now knew what was so interesting about the piano. The word itself made him smile. And yet he didn't know why.

"What does piano mean?"

Oblio was silenced for a while, thinking. Crow waited patiently until he received a reply from the human. "Piano, if I recall correctly, comes from the word pianoforte, which stands for quiet and loud. So, it seems, piano can mean soft." He finished with a flourish, and yet was in no hurry to perform another song for Crow.

"I see. Who made the song you just played?"

For a second time Oblio quieted, and then answered rather swiftly. "His name was Ludwig van Beethoven. A great man, and has composed many arts. Here is one of his most well-known, the one he called Fur Elise."

With that he raised his hands and placed them on the keys, playing an entirely different piece compared to the Moonlight Sonata. It went on with a livelier pace, and Crow listened as it reached its peak, and the music changed, but he still loved the way a piano sounded. He wondered why crow-wings had never made such a wonderful invention. Such a shame that no one else was able to hear it.

And then Crow dared ask Oblio something quite personal. "How did you learn to play the piano?" he queried, and Oblio stopped playing abruptly. His hands fell back and supported him on the seat. Crow knew that he had made Oblio reveal something painful.

"My father," he murmured. "Ah, but who else? No one. I loved learning to play the piano. Poetry was still a hobby, but the piano... it's been a long while, and yet those memories are so fresh. I miss my father dearly, but that is why I love this piano. It holds memories that I couldn't keep in my heart," he explained. Crow imagined the shattering of Oblio's wing-soul—but he had no wings. Even so, there must have been something in particular that became hurt whenever Oblio visited the memory lane.

Unexpectedly, Crow's wing-soul was bound to sympathize, and so he did. "I'm sorry," he murmured, but did not say any more. Oblio seemed to understand, and continued to play. Crow, however impressed with the arts of Beethoven, wanted Oblio to perform his new favorite.

"Could you play Moonlight Sonata?"

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author's note

I was feeling quite fond of Crow lately and this happened. I had originally placed this in an upcoming Feather Of The Crow chapter, but it didn't fit in, so I made it into a one-shot. I still have plenty of drafts, and I have done about a third of my Sweet Dreams story.

If anyone actually reads this, I can tell you that I loved to play piano when I was around ten. The hobby wore off eventually, but there's still a dusty piano that I want to reunite with... that sound like an odd ship, doesn't it? But no, I probably won't return to it yet. The piano itself, on the other hand, has always fascinated me.