Le Bell Ringer
By: EricaX
Fandom: Hunchback of Notre Dame
Author's Note: A little drabble of Quasimodo's thoughts after he returned to his bell tower after being humiliated at the Feast of Fools. Takes place just before he ventures down to watch and listen to Esmeralda sing "Outcasts".
He should have known. He should never have gone out there. The Master had been right all along. The most humiliating moment of his lonely life. Once that tomato had struck his face, he knew something was wrong.
Out of shock he had taken a hand and rubbed at his face, feeling the cold mush under his fingers and seeing it was the remains of a rotten tomato.
He had always been told that he would be treated cruelly if he ever showed his face to the world of people below his bell tower, but never had he thought that rotten vegetables and food would be thrown at him.
He had it coming. That was his punishment for going out and trying to join in on the festivities. All he had wanted was one day. One day out there and he would have been perfectly content. But even though he had been out there for one day, he didn't feel nearly as content as he had planned. If anything, he now felt worse.
He had disobeyed his Master, which was something he never should have done. His plan had been for him to have been seen, but that didn't go as planned. He dreaded the thought of seeing Judge Frollo. Obviously Frollo had intended for the humiliation down there to be his punishment, for he had done nothing to stop it, even after he cried and begged for him to.
Being tied down to the wheel, with no way of escaping; having no choice but to allow the crowd to dish out what they had. He had felt utterly helpless. He had struggled as hard as he could against the men who tied him down, but they had been too much for him.
He had gotten dizzy and disoriented as the wheel spun around and around, thinking it would never end.
But then, she had appeared.
The crowd had gone silent and suddenly she was there.
The angel in his dark life.
She had been kind to him and defended him, even though she could clearly see his hideousness. She defended him even though she had been the one who had pulled him up on stage.
She said, "Don't be afraid. I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen."
No, it wasn't.
She had even gently rubbed off some of the mush on his face.
Looking back at the events that had just taken place, Quasimodo sat on the beams inside the bell tower, alone with his only true friends: the bells of Notre Dame.
Now he sat and regretted ever going out there, knowing that now he was to be forever alone.
Quasimodo sighed, bowing his head down low. He had changed his clothes, throwing away his ruined ones. His shirt had ripped and was now beyond repair. He didn't care. He had others. He took a hand and ran it through his red messy hair.
Nothing would ever change, he thought bitterly.
But Quasimodo then looked up and blinked when he heard the sweet, angelic voice singing from far below, her words captivating him, leaving him no choice but to go and see who it was. Her words touched his aching, lonely soul and as he kept to the shadows, looking over the balcony, he watched Esmeralda sing below him.