Chapter 1- Change
The moon was just beginning to fade into the pastel sky as Jocelyna lay wide awake in her sleeping wagon.
She had awoken early and couldn't get back to sleep. She had spent the last half hour lying on her side, staring at the wooden wall that featured the carvings she had made every year on her son's birthday. All numbers, one to twenty, were still clearly visible on its surface. The carving of the number, '20' still maintained its position as the last of the numbers on the wall since her son had not aged another year just yet. But she no longer felt the need to carve her son's age on the inside of her sleeping wagon for she was now finally able to experience each of his years with him. He was home at last.
Quasimodo had, indeed, been brought back home.
It had been five months since she had brought Quasimodo to the gypsy camp, the Court of Miracles, after he had joyfully accepted her offer in that little room in the Cathedral. She was delighted by the way he was approached by the fellow gypsies.
Nearly the entire camp came to greet Quasimodo at the entrance. Just like the way he was embraced by the townsfolk earlier, Quasimodo was met with cheers, applause, whistles and many pats on the back. Everyone in Paris knew of Quasimodo's valour so it was no surprise that the gypsies, though lived in hiding from Frollo so they rarely left the camp, knew about it too. But that has changed now. Frollo's gone. There was no need to hide anymore. The gypsies were free.
Jocelyna could tell Quasimodo felt more comfortable with every day he was at the camp. Of course he would feel shy and uneasy at first but everyone was so nice to him that he soon began to feel almost confident around the gypsies. He was becoming more self-assured in talking to everyone and having casual conversations with them.
He had already made many friends in the camp which he loved to converse with during meal times and generally throughout the day. He was soon becoming very popular. He was even becoming less aware of his appearance- it seemed no one cared.
Jocelyna had introduced Quasimodo to her two closest friends in the camp, Clopin and Esmeralda. As she had expected, they both welcomed him immediately and after getting to know him, grew immensely fond of him (Clopin apologised greatly to Quasimodo for his part that led to that dreadful event at the Festival of Fools). It really wasn't difficult to adore the young man- even after one small, simple conversation with him. Many times someone would come up to Jocelyna to congratulate her on having such an amazing and kind-hearted son. As ever, she couldn't agree more.
Jocelyna, with help from the other gypsies, had built a brand new wagon for Quasimodo to sleep in. She even knitted several blankets for him. This particularly reminded her of twenty years ago when she had knitted a few small blankets for Quasimodo when he was a baby. She deliberately chose light turquoise thread to match his eyes.
She had no idea what the time was but she could tell it was just beginning to break into dawn, as she faintly heard the occasional shuffling of feet or the muffled talk from those around her which signalled most of the gypsies were now awake too. She also heard from the wagon to her left someone give a gentle yawn and a soft sigh. She smiled to herself, knowing that it was Quasimodo. It was an absolutely wonderful feeling waking up every morning and knowing that her son was just a yard away from her rather than in the Cathedral which always felt so far away.
Though Quasimodo no longer lived in Notre Dame's bell tower, he did still attend to his daily duties of ringing the bells. Every morning, well before anyone else was awake, he would leave the Court of Miracles to ring the bells at the Cathedral to signal the start of a new day.
Quasimodo had not visited the Cathedral this morning, as it was Sunday and, thus, the day of rest which meant the Paris citizens could lie in until mid-morning mass which Quasimodo would ring for later on in the day. Like he used to, he would also ring for other church events that took place throughout the day, every day. One could say this would get quite irritating; having to walk to and thro several times a day every day to ring the bells but Quasimodo loved it. Not only was it a chance to get some fresh air which he was deprived of for twenty years but a chance to visit his old friends, the bells, which had stood by him and got him through those long, lonely years of isolation.
The bell tower was pretty much empty now. On the day of his move to the Court of Miracles, Quasimodo went up to there to collect certain things to have at the camp. The bell ringer did not possess many things at all.
For starters, Quasimodo never really had a bed. For twenty years, his pillow was merely one of his old tunics that he had worn years ago before it got too small for him and his mattress was simply the cold, hard, sometimes wet, wooden floor of the bell tower. Frollo never provided the young man with a blanket or anything that passed more as a pillow.
The only things Quasimodo took from the tower that day were his tunics- all identical to each other and all as tattered as the next- and his various pairs of brown hose and navy blue shoes which were all worn out from being washed so frequently of dust and debris. He decided he would keep his miniature city and the miniature carvings in the bell tower. He was, at last, no longer at a distance from the townsfolk so he felt he didn't need his carvings to feel a part of the real Paris citizens. Plus, he always liked to feel that there was still a part of him in the bell tower when he wasn't there to ring the bells. He admitted to himself that it was silly to see it like this but the bell tower was the only home he knew for twenty years; despite it being his prison, he still felt an attachment to it.
Jocelyna decided it was time to greet the day. After completing her daily morning routine of washing, dressing and brushing her hair, she made her way across the large camp and to the wooden tables for breakfast. The area was now buzzing.
She instantly spotted Quasimodo amid the great crowd of hungry gypsies. After all, he was hard to miss.
She walked forward to see that he was sitting on a table next to the self-proclaimed gypsy leader and her best friend, Clopin and sitting opposite the beautiful 26 year old gypsy dancer, Esmeralda. From what she could see from the plates aswell as smell, breakfast that morning appeared to be sliced grapefruit with pine nuts. grapefruits were a rare delicacy in the camp, as they were always difficult to find. It was her absolute favourite.
After waiting in the long que to receive her portion of grapefruit and nuts, Jocelyna made her way to the tables. She was greeted with cheery hellos as she took a seat next to Esmeralda which had her seated opposite Clopin. Quasimodo gave her a warm, welcoming smile as she sat down. Jocelyna's heart never failed to give a joyful leap every time her son smiled at her.
"Bon matin, we were just talking about making Rhayeder here some new clothes. You know, gypsy attire," Clopin now turned to address Quasimodo, "honestly son, you can't wear those boring green tunics forever. It's time." He turned back to Jocelyna, "so we need your opinion."
She glanced at Quasimodo with a here we go again look. He chuckled at this along with Esmeralda who had caught her look too. Clopin, on the other hand, was oblivious since he was far too busy describing this fantasy outfit of his.
"-I'm thinking... purple and orange tunic...green shoes with peachy, orange rims and...yellow tights." Quasimodo had been drinking his cup of water but he spat a mouthful out upon hearing the last bit. Water was now comically dripping down his chin and front. Esmeralda, Jocelyna and others closest to them laughed heartily at the amusing sight. Clopin, however, looked glumly at him.
"What? We need to spice it up a bit!" With no sign of approval from Quasimodo, who was now wiping his chin with the back of his large hand, Clopin hastily added, "alright, fine...maroon tights then." All three jokingly sighed in disagreement. It was clear that conversation was over.
The bell ringer loved every bit of his days in the camp but he especially enjoyed the meal times. The atmosphere was always incredible. There was the occasional sound of violins and lutes that filled the camp with sweet, harmonious music.
Every single person was more than willing to engage in conversation with him and happily ask how he was doing in this brand new environment. He had never felt so at ease during mealtimes.
Back in his days in the bell tower, if he was allowed it, a meal would be the most awkward and uncomfortable moment for him. There was usually a painful, palpable silence between Frollo and himself or an even more painful lesson which either consisted of him reciting incredibly long Bible verses to Frollo, reciting the alphabet and the long words linked to each letter or the most frequent lesson of declaring to Frollo what he had been taught his whole life- that he was a hideous monster.
After a few minutes of happily eating their grapefruit and nuts, Esmeralda enquired to Quasimodo, "so when are you first ringing the bells today, Rhayeder?"
The young man had just that second stuffed a large forkful of grapefruit in his mouth so he chewed hastily in order to answer her question as quick as possible so as to not seem rude.
"Um...mid morning," he answered simply to minimise the chance of accidently spitting out any remains as he swallowed the last bit of fruit. Once all trace of fruit was gone, the young man added, "I actually want to leave a little earlier. It's just that the archdeacon has asked me to help him finish off fixing the Cathedral's pillars. They... er...broke..." he added sheepishly, remembering it was him that had completely demolished the Cathedral pillars five months ago. Quasimodo bowed his head in shame. He had never wanted to wreck the pillars of beautiful Notre Dame Cathedral but there was someone that he just couldn't bear to lose. It was a sacrifice.
Clopin gave Quasimodo a sly wink and a nudge in admiration of what he, too, had witnessed just five months ago on the daybreak of Jocelyna's planned execution.
The rest of breakfast went by with the four just making general conversation about absolutely anything. It was these simple meal times that Quasimodo loved the most. There was never a need to think too much or be constantly prepared for the arbitrary beating. General conversation was what he had always wanted with his master but something that he was never able to experience until his arrival at the Court of Miracles.
It was true, everything had changed and Quasimodo couldn't have been more thrilled.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Well, here you go guys, the sequel is here! Woo woo!
You may have noticed that I used 'Quasimodo' when referring to Quasimodo rather than 'Rhayeder'. He is known now as Rhayeder by everyone in the story and they call him by that name (e.g. Clopin referring to Quasi as 'Rhayeder') but I just figured to use his old name in the narration. With writing 'Broken Bridge' I got so used to referring to Quasi as 'Quasimodo' so it was kinda a bit weird going from 'Quasimodo' to 'Rhayeder' so quickly. I also felt you might now know Quasi more as 'Quasimodo' rather than him as 'Rhayeder', as there is more Quasimodo, the isolated outcast than Rhayeder, the loved baby who was featured in like two chapters.
Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter, I'll post more very sooooon! :-D
Reviews would be awesome :-D
Also, 'Broken Bridge' is the prequel to this story for those who haven't read it yet (should be in this list somewhere...). This story will make much more sense if you do decide to take a look at it. :)