"The hills are alive with the sound of music...! With songs they have sung for a thousand years...!"
Fantine twirled about a tree, he skirt flying behind her and shoes discarded beside her wimple. The cool breeze of the French hillside rushed over her hair and across her finger tips. The young woman smiled brightly as she skipped beside a brook, singing loud and proud.
"The hills fill my heart... with the sound of music..."
She gazed across the clouds and over the abbey. She searched for the sun. The bright circle that amazed her and unfortunately took her attention halfway through her chores.
"My heart wants to sing every song it hears! My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds rhat rise from the lake to the trees! My heart wants to sigh like a chime that flies from a church on a breeze! To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way! To sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray!"
Fantine turned abruptly when a loud, familiar sound dimmed against her ear drum. It was the church bells she'd heard oh so many times times before. 'Oh, drat!" she thought, picking up her shoes and making a beeline for the abbey at the base of her hills. Remembering her wimple, the nun-to-be stumbled back over and grabbed the piece, consequently losing herself in the sight of the yellow sun. Fantine sighed and pressed a hand to her heart, drinking it in.
"I go to the hills when my heart is lonely! I know I will hear what I heard before! My heart will be blessed with the sound of music! And I'll sing once more...!"
Meanwhile in the abbey, Rev. Mother Musichetta was having a very heated discussion with visiting priest, Father Montparnasse, before the Bishop. The old holy man sighed and rolled his eyes at the younger (but still got along) children of the church before him. He didn't regularly find himself visiting the abbey or parishes in his old age, but Father Montparnasse had called him forth in what he had worded as "a serious issue concerning the church's reputation." As it turned out, the issue was within the ability of the training nun, Fantine. Apparently, Fantine and two other training nuns had visited Fr. Montparnasse's parish and Fantine had shown nothing but ill-practice. So much that the Father had returned her to the abbey with a letter asking if they'd just picked a random girl from the street and instructed her to play nun. This had thus angered Musichetta, the Rev. Mother. She found that Fantine was capable and quite the quick learner, and that the Father could not request her leave just because of her youth and malexperience.
"My, my," the Bishop finally spoke, stepping forward and drawing the two apart. "Where in our scripture does it say we should argue about who is capable of performing the will of our Lord? What testament may I find it in, won't you tell?"
"It isn't there," grumbled Montparnasse. "But all I'm saying-"
The Bishop raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. "It isn't there?"
Montparnasse opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He frowned and looked down, rasping out a low, "No, your Grace."
"Exactly," the Bishop firmed, a smile spreading over ancient teeth and red gums.
"Your Grace?" Musichetta requested.
The Bishop turned his body and have the Mother his full attention. "Yes?"
"Please do not take Fantine from us. She is capable of being a nun! She just needs to... to..."
"To not be Fantine," interjected the Father rudely.
"Enough!" called the Bishop. He stepped forward and waved over three sisters. "Sisters, what do you think of Sister Fantine?"
The first one, Sister Madeleine, a muscular looking woman with ginger curls peaking slightly, stepped forward.
"Yes, Sister Madeleine?" Musichetta addressed the nun.
"I just want to say I think Sister Fantine is a very good nun," the Sister hummed her approval. Then, she back tracked, "Except when she's not such a good nun..."
Montparnasse raised a hand as if to say, 'see what I mean?' The Bishop kindly waved him off and watched as a second nun, this one being well into her late thirties and sporting a pair of cracked glasses.
"My, my, Sister Fauchelevent," the Mother scoffed, observing the nun's cracked glasses. "Whatever happened to your glasses?"
"I was taking a walk with Sister Azelma when I tripped and cracked them," she admitted. "I can't find my other pair."
Musichetta nodded. "Very well. We will see that we find you a new pair. And please, do try and be careful."
The Sister smiled and adjusted her glasses. "Sister Fantine is great fun. If only she could keep her head out of the clouds," she said.
The Bishop accepted her answer and turned to the final nun. "And you, Sister...?"
"Azelma," the young women said warmly. "Sister Azelma."
"Yes, Sister Azelma!"
"Oh, I love Sister Fantine very much," Azelma gushed, pressing her hands to her heart and hugging herself. "Although, she seems to always be in trouble."
"You see, your Grace?" roared Fr. Montparnasse. "She is not an asset to the abbey!"
"You have no say in who is or isn't an asset to the abbey!" shot back Mother. "Fantine just needs help to understand that she is a nun now and not a little girl!"
"She's been here ages! She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear!"
"She waltzes on her way to mass and whistles on the stairs!" chimed Sister Fauchelevent.
"And underneath her wimple she has curlers in her hair!" added Montparnasse, earning mock gasps from the Sisters.
"I've even heard her singing in the abbey!" Sister Madeleine confessed, looking ashamed afterwards.
"She's always late for chapel-" Sister Frauchelevent brought forth.
"But her penitence is real!" sang Azelma.
Montparnasse grumbled and shot out an, "She's always late for everything-"
"Except for every meal!"
The Sisters giggled momentarily before Montparnasse sang, "I hate to have to say it but I firmly feel..."
"Maria's not an asset to the abbey!" finished the Sisters, their faces upset.
The Bishop seemed to let this tumble in his mind. He looked to Musichetta and frowned. Taking her chance, Musichetta stepped up, "I'd like to say a word on her behalf!"
"Then say it, Mother."
"Fantine make me laugh!"
The Sisters all nodded furiously in agreement, grinning.
"How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find the word that means Maria? A flibbertigibbet, a willow the wisp, a clown!
"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her! Many a thing she ought to understand! But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say! How do you keep a wave upon the sand? Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
Sister Madeleine stepped up and waved her wand for attention. "When I'm with her I'm confused, out of focus and bemused! And I never know exactly where I am!"
"Unpredictable as weather!" said Montparnasse.
"She's as flighty as a feather!" agreed Sister Frauchelevent.
"She's a darling!" Mother insisted, stepping toward the Father.
Montparnasse scoffed loudly and rasped, "She's a demon!"
"She's a lamb!" Musichetta near shouted.
"She'll out pester any pest, drive a hornet from it's nest!" sang Sister Madeleine.
"She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl!" added Frauchelevent.
Sister Azelma let herself smile and point out, "She is gentle, she is wild!"
"She's a riddle, she's a child!" Sister Madeleine grinned, singing.
"She's a headache!" Montparnasse argued.
"She's an angel!" Musichetta fought back.
"She's a girl!" The Bishop announced, stepping forward with a weary smile on his face. He looked over the women and priest for a spell before their voices rang out again:
"How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find the word that means Maria? A flibbertigibbet, a willow the wisp, a clown!
"Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her! Many a thing she ought to understand! But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? How do you keep a wave upon the sand?"
Just then, Fantine ran into the abbey. He shows hit the cobblestones roughly, creating a terrible clacking noise with each rushed stomp. Her mind was repeating the mantra 'get in unnoticed' over and over until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. She did, however, notice that she would look suspicious with flushed cheeks and dry mouth, so Fantine dipped over to the faucet and drank a handful of water down. The young woman picked her wimple back up and went to run again when she noticed the mob of disappointed nuns, a priest, and the Bishop himself stood before her. Fantine was, of course, completely done with trying, and slowly made her way back into the abbey.
Frowning slightly, the Bishop turned back to Musichetta and shrugged. Montparnasse grinned wickedly and pumped his arms in the air for call of celebration. The nuns all growled under their breath as they walked past him to follow Fantine's path.
With a great sigh, Mother stepped forward and breathed, "How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand...?"
Fantine sat on the bench outside Mother Musichetta's quarters. Again. Her back was improperly slumped forward, and she rest her elbows on her spread legs. She watched as her toes tapped the stony floor of the abbey, the clickity-clack satisfying her musical soul. Fantine didn't dare sing. Not in the abbey. Oh, she could hardly get over that she'd sung without permission outside the abbey today. But she did feel she had a good reason, and with reason their is purpose or something like a helpful quote... The hills were just so green and the birds were singing and the clouds were puffy and white! How could she not be a part of that?
Fantine was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely noticed when Musichetta waved her inside. With trembling knees, Fantine rushed inside and placed a kiss to the Mother's hand, spewing a sloppy apology.
"I do not want an apology," Musichetta said sternly. "I did not call you here for that."
"Oh, Reverend Mother, allow me to ask for forgiveness," begged Fantine. She dare not look up.
Musichetta inhaled deeply and gestured for Fantine to go on. "If it will make you feel better, go ahead."
"Thank you!" Fantine took a deep breath and leaned forward as she spoke, "It's just that I was doing my chores when I saw the sun, Mother! And I swear I could see the Heaven's glowing below it, I swear it if I could. How could I not run out to see the sun in all its beauty? The grass was green as ever and the birds were singing of that Castle I told you about! Heaven's kingdom, the Castle on a Cloud!"
"Yes, Sister, I recall you telling me of countless tales of your adventures to the Castle. In your dreams, of course," said Musichetta.
"Yes, that Castle!" Fantine confirmed, grinning and crowning at almost the same time. "The birds were singing of it, and they were beckoning me! I had to be a part of it, you understand, don't you?"
"I see. Well, Fantine, we must learn to resist. What is it that you have learned while in the abbey?" The Mother asked.
"To learn what is the will of God, and to live it wholeheartedly," answered Fantine.
Musichetta nodded in approval. "But have you learned to obey rules or use commen sense? What if it had fallen dark and you became lost?"
Fantine laughed at the question, shaking her head. She noticed her actions and cleared her throat to call attention from her rising blush. "That could never happen," she insisted as if it were elementary information. "Those are my hills. I grew up on them. They brought me to you! I would climb atop the trees and look over into your garden. I would hear the nuns singing on their way to chapel and I knew then I wanted what you had."
Mother Musichetta couldn't help but smile warmly. However, what had to be done had to be done. "Fantine, Father Montparnasse visited the abbey today with Bishop today to speak of your performance while visiting his parish. He wanted you to be taken from abbey. After much consideration, the Bishop thinks it best you leave."
"Leave?!" Fantine gasped. Tears were stinging her eyes and she squeezed them shut tight.
"No, no, no, my child!" Musichetta discovered her mistake. "Only temporarily."
"I can't leave the abbey!" the young woman demanded. "This is my home, my family!"
"It is to see that you learn," Musichetta sighed. She stood and crossed the desk to cup Fantine's face in her hands. She noticed the young woman's trembling lip and help a finger up to signal she stop that nonsense right away. "You will be fine. You shall become a governess for a retired and highly decorated naval hero, Captain Valjean."
"A captain?" Fantine gasped, no longer upset and now mesmerised by the thought of a captain.
"Yes. He has seven children and has been left with them after their mother died. He's been having trouble keeping a governess, which is why I trust you will not follow the line of women."
She was shocked. "Seven?!"
"You love children, Fantine," Musichetta gasped.
"Yes, I know, but seven?" Fantine spout, gobsmacked.
"I'm assured you'll find a way. Now off you go."
There were no words after that. The only sound that Fantine could hear was the subtle tapping of shoe against stone as she made her way across the abbey.
Seven children? How was she supposed to handle that? She'd never as much as babysat, let alone serve as governess! Fantine could barely control herself, now she had seven children to order and care for? Saints preserve, how was she to manage?