A/N: This was yet again inspired from the Disney movie. You know when Esmeralda's looking at Quasi's home and she touches that little glass wind-chime thing? Well, that's what it's based off of. So thanks to whomever invented it on the Disney storyboard staff.
It was a chilly spring night as a young Quasimodo rang the church's bells. Hidden from the world because of his ugly appearance, he lived a life of solitude amongst the stone. A wart was precariously placed over one of his eyes and his nose was upturned like a pig's in addition to the hump on his back. But despite his unnatural appearance, he was as harmless as a newborn kitten. He could barely hear footsteps on the wooden floor when his Master entered the room.
Judge Claude Frollo was a cruel man who was a belligerent leader. His hatred for the Gypsies around him could be seen in his old face. He nose was abnormally large and his gray hair was thinning. The long robe he wore covered his abnormally tall, skinny frame. In the crook of his arm was a basket carrying a bottle of wine and croissants.
"Good evening, Quasimodo!" Frollo hollered over the bells.
"Hello, Master," Quasi said simply, landing before Frollo like a leopard from a tree. Eyeing the basket in Frollo's arms, Quasimodo went to retrieve the plates and cup. While Frollo's was made out of sterling silver, his was made out of wood.
"Eat," Frollo commanded, placing the buttery pastry in front of the hunchback. No sooner had Quasi taken a bite when they heard a sickening shatter downstairs.
"What was that?" Quasi asked.
Frollo sneered, standing abruptly and walking quickly down the spiral-stone staircase into the church bellow. Quasi followed; since the evening masses were over surely it would be alright to go down. The Archdeacon was angrily staring at the ground, muttering things Quasimodo couldn't understand.
"What has happened?" Quasi asked.
"Don't move!" the Archdeacon commanded.
Thank goodness Quasi hadn't continued to walk. Since his footwear was merely rags sewn together, the contents on the floor surely could've pierced his foot. Yes, that's right: broken glass was everywhere. Their multicolored hues glowed from the full moon outside.
"How could someone have done this? Never in all my life has the house of God been attacked." the Archdeacon wailed.
"Apparently this stone caused it," Frollo growled, struggling to pick up a big rock. Quasi almost chuckled, envisioning Victor and Laverne throwing Hugo at the window.
"Well, obviously this isn't from the architecture of the church. It's too round," the Archdeacon reasoned.
"Of course not! It was the Gypsies! Their refusal to abide by the hierarchy of Paris has been the downfall of us all!" Frollo ranted.
"Don't be rash Frollo! It could've been everyone! Need I remember the last time you jumped to the conclusions about the Gypsies?" the Archdeacon argued. Quasi looked at the clergy man with confusion. What did he mean by Frollo's last encounter with the gypsies?
"I have command over how the justice system is here! The Gypsies will rue the day they did this! I'll be sure of it!" Frollo declared,"Oh! And one more thing; make sure this is all cleaned up before the morning!" And with that, he stomped off.
"I'll clean it, sir," Quasi said, bowing before the Archdeacon.
"Well, if you're sure. Good night then, Quasimodo."
Once the Archdeacon had left, Quasi delicately began to scoop the glass into his hand. As the pieces glittered in the moonlight, he was struck by an idea. Perhaps he could use these pieces to decorate the belltower. Surely Frollo wouldn't mind! After all, he had just wanted them out of the way. Slowly but surely, Quasi had gotten all the glass cleaned up by the time the sun started to rise. After ringing the morning bells, he set out to work.
"Whatcha doing, Quasi?" asked Hugo.
"I'm making something," he said simply, bending over the table. The glass had been scattered over a table cloth. On top of the table cloth was a miniature version of Paris in the form of wooden carvings.
"What's it going to look like when you're done?" Victor added.
"I'm not sure," Quasi said.
First, he arranged the glass into the order he wanted. Then, he rummaged through his stash. It contained various items from bird feathers to chips of stone from old gargoyles.
"Aha!" he cried.
Finally, he found what he was looking for. It was the rags he had outgrown as a small child. Carefully, he began to pick at the loose threads. Once he had them to his preferred length, he carefully made small holes in the glass. Nearly four hours later, he finally finished his creation. The multicolored hues sparkled as he turned them in the sunlight.
"Oh Quasi, they're beautiful!" Laverne gushed.
"They sure are," Quasi exclaimed, hanging them on a wooden beam.
"Most people wouldn't think broken glass beautiful," Hugo pointed out, "but you managed to see past that and make something beautiful out of it." Quasimodo smiled. Perhaps Hugo was right. Perhaps the glass was something like him. At first it was broken, but it managed to become beautiful with some tending too. Maybe, just maybe, someone would do the same to him just as he had with the broken glass. Only time would tell. But until then, he was willing to wait.