His fingers moved swiftly across the neck of the instrument, fascinating the audience, hypnotizing them in ways they could never even imagined. His posture was extraordinarily perfect, and his confidence awing. His chin, with no chinrest, rest upon the wood, the vibrations rattling his imperfect teeth. His eyelashes tickled his face as his eye lay closed, his confidence once again awing. No music, no composer. Just him.

An audience amazed sat through the full three hours, no need to stand to leave, no need to clap. They prayed it would never end. Such perfection had never been heard of before. Such purity had never been brought to their knowledge. Even the king himself had to be impressed. None had ever been so in love.

The finale was coming; everyone could tell his bow was moving from the tip to the frog faster and faster, his fingers moving even more swiftly from one string to the next. Delight and inclination filled the bodies of every member of the audience, each begging to hear the tune forever. Let the tune be never ending! Let this man be our god scent savior out of this cold winter! Let his music never end…

Alas, it did.

Once his bow played the final note, an A on the D string, he took a moment before lowering it upon his lap, his eyes hesitating to open as he looked down. Yes, he was always displeased with its ending.

The audience rose, the man's gaze at the ground. How could such a beautiful thing be over?

Nevertheless, he looked up and smiled, standing from his chair and soaking up the gratification he had sent throughout the room.

Bowing the people only became louder. The pride he had within him bloomed as he bowed once more, his smile only becoming vaster; greater; grander.

It was the best night he had lived.

Taking one last bow the king himself came up to the stage, his guards following, their smiled hidden.

The king placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, his gratitude remaining as the audience continued to applaud, yet his envy could not get the better of him. He was king, yes, but when did he get such an applause? When was his life this celebrated? When did his people cheer him for after three hours of nothing but one instrument and a possible accompanist?

He had to calm himself.

This was not his day.

As the clapping died down he smiled and brought the attention to him, "Tonight, we celebrate a marvelous young gentleman, whose art form is a glory and a pleasure to have. Whose music is a gateway into beauty. This young man has given us a pleasure we are not to ignore, thus we shall reward him."

The king made a gesture and two men arrived with a box. The young musician handed his instrument to another and opened the gift.

"A medal," the king said, "for your beautiful music."

The young man looked up at the king and smiled, soon shaking his hand, "Merci, votre Altesse."

The king patted the young man's back, then clapped, queuing everyone else to do the same.

What a night for this man. What a marvelous beginning to a new life! What joys were to surround him next? What new treasures would be unfolded?

In due time, everything would begin.

In due time, his life would kick off.

In due time, everything would change.

In no time would he be ready for it.