Authors Note: Hi everyone! Um, this is my first story, but if no one likes it or I run out of idea's or if it's just horrible I'll take it off the site, no need to embarrass myself, right? Anyway to the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, it'd be kind of weird if I was a 128 year old man.
Eponine's POV
"My little dear, 'Ponine," my father said to me, "Can you go out and get some pastries for the inn?" he asked, I nodded enthusiastically. I would do anything for my father, he's my hero.
"Yes Papa, I'll go," I replied and he bent down and gave me a kiss on my nose. With that I ran to the bakery in my new purple dress. My name is Eponine Thenardier and I am eight years old, I have long, curly brown hair and I have dark brown eyes.
"Monsieur I would like to buy twenty pastries please," I said to the baker and handed him the amount Papa gave me.
"Right away mademoiselle," the baker said and turned around to fetch the pastries. He returned soon and I made my exit. On my way back to the inn I took a short cut down an ally way. I heard different noises and started to get frightened. A man jumped out in front of me and tried to take my pastries.
"Help! Help! Please anyone!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. No one came, the man lifted his hand to me then brought it down. I didn't feel any pain, but I heard the slap connect. I opened my eyes to see a bundle of blond hair and the side of a young boys face.
Then he did something I've never seen before, he knead the man in between the legs, took the pastries and my hand and ran while the man stayed crumpled on the floor. We stopped after about ten minutes when we were a good distance away from the man. We probably would have kept running if we weren't out of breath.
The boy looked at me and I got a good look at him. He looked to be around my age and was slightly shorter than I was. He had golden curly hair that was caked with dirt and grime, he had on a dirt stained shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a loose torn up tie around his neck, he also had on torn trousers and he had no shoes. The feature that stood out the most was his eyes. They were bluer than any ocean and so full of fire and passion and light.
"Thank you for helping me Monsieur," I paused waiting for an answer. He looked at me funny.
"Your weird, I've never been called monsieur before," he said. "My name is Enjolras." he said smiling at me. "What's your name?"
"I'm Po-" I stopped remembering that my father told me to never give my name, "Patria, Patria Jondrette." I made up. He looked skeptical.
"I know your lying," he told me, "your pretty good, but can you at least tell me your first name?" he asked.
"Fine, my first name is Eponine," I exhaled.
"See that wasn't so hard, was it?" the blonde boy smirked.
"Why are you rude to me if you saved me?" I asked.
"Well I learn some things on the streets," he shrugged.
This was the start of a great friendship for me.