They all sat miserably tied up in the cells. It was demeaning, really. On top of keeping them behind bars, behind a lock door; they tied them up! With your arms behind your back and your elbows bounded together, it made balance difficult; which was a real annoyance because the ground was filthy, covered in all matter of bodily fluids and blood. Most people didn't seem to care, though. A mix of exhaustion, depression, and, of course, poor balance left nearly all gypsies sitting on the floor in a state of defeat.
Clopin wished, not for the first time, he would at least be put in a cell with La Esmeralda. His people tried their hardest to escape their bonds, even going down to chewing on the other's ropes. It was when that failed, Clopin used all his strength to stand. He nearly fell, but it still looked so graceful, even the people crying stopped to stare up at him. He had to show no emotion other than confidence, none what so ever.
"Brothers and sisters, we stand on the edge of the abyss. I'll be the first to admit, we're not getting out of this." A child started to cry, causing Clopin to speed up his speech. "But we are gypsies, are we not? Are we going to cower for a bunch of gadjos, or are we going to hold our heads high, dignity to our last breath?" A stir seemed to ripple through the crowd, captivated by Clopin's charisma. He grinned, soaking it in. "Are we going to let these gadjos think they've beaten us? No! We'll stand tall down to each moment we have, for we are a proud people! We will not show them fear; for what do we have to fear of them?
"Don't believe what they tell you!" Clopin continued, even making a few people smile despite themselves. "We will not go to hell! My people, I have died and come back with this message: we will never die! Our souls are free! We will ride the wind forever, just as we always have! Tomorrow, we may die, but will we be beaten?"
"No!" They cried, a few managing to get to their feet as well.
"Louder!"
"No!" Came the collected cry of almost everyone.
As another large grin spread across his face, he opened his mouth to say more when the room door opened. All the heads flipped, a number flashing terror before remembering to stay strong. Clopin felt deep wrath. But, instead, adoptive a puzzled grin as guards approached.
"Bienvenue, monsieurs guards!" Clopin swept a foot under him, which allowed a graceful but highly uncomfortable bow. "You've come a bad time. You see, we forgot to sweep the floors!" Before Clopin could help it, he wore a sympathetic voice to match his face. "But surly, monsieurs, you can at least forgive little Laverne? She is, after all, only four. Poor girl is downright terrible at keeping her tent clean." He tsked his tongue, receiving a small giggle from the girl.
The guard sneered, though Clopin felt a tingle of happiness as he glanced unsettling at the young children in the room. "Are you the one they've refer to as the 'Gypsy King'?"
For the briefest moment, Clopin felt ice in his chest. It was finally over. Never again would he be safe from the authorities. He had always been very careful to keep identity hidden from the guards, and especially Frollo. As he stared at the guard, he found himself wishful for the comfort of the mask he wore when performing to the pagans.
He would have never had admitted it had he not worried someone else would take the fall.
"The one and only," he said with as much of a mocked offended tone as he could muster. "Why, monsieur? Do I not frighten you? Pardonnez-moi, I seem to be losing my touch! It must have something to do with being tied up despite being in a cage and behind a locked–"
But before he could finish his joke, more guards came rushing in. They swiftly unlocked the door, and approached them all with their swords drawn, forcing everyone to back away towards the walls. His people scurried across the floor on their backs, using their feet to propel them. This definitely thwarted Clopin's mood down. "Now, now, that's not very nice." He huffed, but he didn't move, not bothering to care when the men circled around him. He briefly considered jumping atop of one of their swords to die in the way he chose. But, even if they would be dead by the end of the week or worse, Clopin didn't want to scar the children in the room.
"You're coming with us!" The same guard spat.
Clopin forced himself to shrug his shoulders and, when your elbows are tied together behind you back, it was a lot harder than it looked. It hurt a lot more too.
"Perhaps next week?" It wasn't Clopin best joke, far from it, but panic was started to cloud his mind because he knew exactly what was coming. He attempted to keep his face bemused as he was dragged off by his shirt, knowing full and well he had the entire of the room's attention on him. The one dragging him never bothered to make sure his knees didn't grind across the ground, despite Clopin's comedic 'owws' every time his knees hit the ground painfully, which was quite often, considering they were taking him down into the basement.
"In there, Gypsy King!" The guard behind him mocked as he delivered a well-aimed kick onto Clopin's back, sending him flying onto the ground. He gritted his teeth into a grin to hide his pain. He could live through this pain.
Before Clopin decided he was willing to use the energy to stand, he sat up in surprise as a clawing voice breathed, "Well, well, well,"
"I always thought that was a foolish term to use." Clopin said with his grin still on his face as he turned to Frollo, emerging from the shadows. Wait? Didn't he use the exact same phrasing only hours ago to The Captain and The Hunchback? "At least when I say it, something 'well' is going on. You should say something more like, 'unwell, unwell, unwell'. Or, 'poorly, poorly, poorly',"
"Ah!" Frollo's eyes flashed dangerously, and he put on a smile as well. "But my day is going well. And it's only going to get better. Now tell, gypsy, where are the other vermin hiding?"
Clopin's heart sank, but he put on a puzzled smile instead. How could Frollo possibly have known that some of the gypsies were hidden during the invasion at the Court? His only ray of sunshine throughout all of this was a little under a hundred gypsies in Paris had escaped and were living free. Clopin knew exactly where they were currently hidden!
'Frollo coming at dawn? That isn't right! He'd never wait! These idiots must have led them right to us!'
Were the thoughts running through his head as Clopin jumped down and ordered everyone he could see to leave their stuff and run out the back. Recently the ceiling much deeper into the catacombs had collapsed, creating a large enough hole to climb through. Luckily, there was already a latter there whose purpose was going to be to be used to fix the hole, but now it was the gypsies' last hope.
Clopin turned to find La Esmeralda. He loved her as a sister and would never forgive himself if she didn't escape. He spotted her hugging The Captain of the Imbeciles. Wrath consumed Clopin's soul, and he suddenly couldn't remember if he was approaching Esmeralda to save her, or kill the idiot getting chummy with her. But before he could reach her, he heard a sly voice proclaim, "Nor would I!"
Instantly, Clopin and his people were surround by guards. He could hear Frollo saying, "After twenty years of searching, the Court of Miracles is mine at last." Before he approached slowly towards La Esmeralda.
"No!" Clopin screamed, "Salaud!"
He had to create enough of a distraction for both Esmeralda's sake, and the people fleeing quietly into the night. He pranced into the air, landing atop of a soldier's shoulders. He felt the man fall under his weight, as light as he was, as he simultaneously punched his way through two soldiers. Clopin was no fool, unless when he was trying to be. He knew there was no way out of this, but he wanted to be known to go down fighting.
It was a humbling moment when Clopin felt a fist into his jaw. Although he rolled the punch, it still hurt a lot. Perhaps if it had been ten, or even twenties years earlier, Clopin would have been able to jump back quicker. Sadly Clopin was only human. It seemed a near blink of an eye that Clopin was trapped in ropes with a guard he had given a bloody nose was pressing a foot onto his back.
"There will be a little bonfire in the square tomorrow, and you're all invited to attend."
The news seemed to finally freeze the burning fire of fury in Clopin's soul. He finally stopped fighting his restraints to look up at Frollo in utter horror. No! NO! Throughout his entire life, Clopin dedicated himself to his court! Every day he spent worrying about their safety, figuring out the best way to put food on the table, and watching over them as their king. The gypsies were his people, his family! He could not let this happen! Even if it was unless, Clopin kicked out his legs, hitting a soldier behind his knees. "You mindless brute!" He screamed as he did. "You follow Frollo like sheep!"
Clopin attempted to stand, but was quickly extinguished as a soldier stomped on his chest, causing the air to be knocked out of him. He heard his name being screeched by a gypsy girl, but he couldn't see who, nor did the voice really have much familiarity to it. Before he could recover, he felt himself be pulled into the air, and had new ropes tied to him.
Finally, he was thrown into a pile of other gypsies. Heaving, he forced himself up, looking for anyone familiar amongst the group. While most of them he only knew by face, he spotted a friend of his, before seeing a head of blond mess.
Clopin launched himself to his side. "Thanks for this," he said sarcastically, eyeing him with as much hatred as he could muster. "Thank you so much."
"I was trying to help!" Despite his glare, Clopin could see the regret in the captain's face.
"You know, The Hunchback is too naïve and sheltered to really think like Frollo, so it much easier for me to forgive him. You, on the other hand, have only the excuse that you have to work hard to process basic things like walking in that little blond head of yours!"
"How was I supposed to know Frollo was following us?" He demanded.
"It's called thinking!"
"Maybe if you hadn't been so busy trying to hang us; you would have noticed the troop!"
"Maybe if you hadn't waltzed in here with the troop…!"
"You're a thief!"
"You have no brain!"
"Vermin!"
"Gadjo!"
"Beak-nose!"
Just then, a guard grabbed Clopin from behind, seemly tired of the growing argument. Clopin was about to fire more insults at the gadjo, when he spotted the gypsies around them yelling at the captain, so it seemed just as well. The next few hours involved a mix of kicking soldiers, being throwing into a cell, and feeling everything slip away from Clopin.
Clopin was brought to the present as Frollo kicked him in the face, causing him to spit out yet another tooth. "Thanks for that." He said, grinning with blood dripping out of his mouth. "Now I'm missing a tooth on both sides of my mouth! It matches!"
"Where are the gypsies hiding?" He asked, nonchalantly looking down at the Gypsy King below.
Clopin sat with his legs cross, refusing to whip his blood off his chin. "In the Court of Miracles, of course! Want me to give you directions?"
"Stop playing with me." Frollo's face snarled into a frown that would smite Clopin down if it could. "Tell me where they are hiding."
"Now, now, Frollo." Clopin tsked his tongue again. "You must learn to interact a little better! Otherwise people will think you anti-social."
"For the good of you scum, I must–"
"–Agh! Don't use 'good' and yourself in the same sentence again! I don't think my ears could take it a second time!"
After this comment, Frollo kicked Clopin again. Though it hurt, it felt much more satisfactory that Clopin managed to get under his skin. "Doing your own dirty work?" Clopin asked, looking up at him on the floor. "God must be proud you're so willing to dirty your own filthy hands!"
"Vermin like you should not speak His Name."
"What else should I call Him? If you work for Him, a few names come to mind." Frollo started to strike Clopin with his foot again, but it didn't stop the gypsy from yelling out a few suggestions. "Salaud, with a capital 's' of course. Abandoner, Killer of the Innocent," He had a few more, but Frollo knocked the air out of him with a more aimed hit.
As he was gasping for air, he heard more soldiers come clanking in. With their approach, Frollo quickly stepped back, obtaining a much more calming composter.
"Sir, we have two others claiming to be the king."
"Sir, I feel like I must warn about the one we have now. He took down five of my best men before we managed to capture him."
The two guards spoke roughly at the same time, giving Clopin a mix of pride and worry. He glanced up as he heard his name gasped by a concerned familiar voice. Oh no, not Jacques. He would give himself up to save Clopin. Next to him was a lad just out of adolescences whose name, regrettable, wasn't coming to mind. Clopin did recognize him from the years of puppet shows he did for the younger crowd years prior and as the boy he caught listening on conversations once or twice.
The poor young fool didn't know what he was going into when he said he was the King.
"Don't you dare!" Clopin hissed. "You are not taking the fall for me. I am the Gypsy King!"
The elderly man smiled at him. He was someone Clopin went to many of time for advice, and was, by far, the oldest of the gypsies. Over the years, Jacques became a mentor and a good friend to Clopin. "Hush, your façade is over. You don't need to pretend anymore."
It dawned on Clopin like an avalanche of snow. Jacques would not survive over ten lashes of a whip. Therefore, he would die and the secret would stay safe. But Jacques didn't know what the secret even was! Only Clopin knew, and he also knew he would never say, ever. It would just be fruitless torture that would only cause Clopin intense pain until his death. For Jacques, it would be quicker, but as equally painful.
How easy it would be to bow his head and lie that he was not the King. Have Jacques take the fall? Clopin could live much more comfortably until his death.
But Clopin would never do that to another gypsy!
"Jacques, I appreciate your offer, but I will not have you be tortured in my place! I am the Gypsy King. Now, I order the both of you to tell the truth." Jacques refused to speak, and the boy started to cry.
"Y-you are the King, Clopin." The lad whimpered. He wasn't crying out of fear, but sadness because he knew the sacrifice his king had committed.
With that, a guard grabbed the back of Clopin's tunic, and dragged him further into the torture chambers. He felt as they tied a new rope his wrists before cutting the other bonds off him. Using the new rope, they tied Clopin to a pillar with his stomach pressed tightly against it. Some more men stepped forward and ripped Clopin's favorite tunic off of him, leaving only his pants. Slowly, he heard a whooshing noise that cut through the air. Nearly instantaneously after, pain erupted onto Clopin's back. He felt his back inflame, but he refused to cry out. Another swooshing noise later and Clopin gasped, but again refused to cry out. His hands curled up in sure willpower. Panting he whispered, "Is that the worst you can do?"
Three, four, five, six… After six lashings, Frollo bent down close to Clopin's face. "Tell me where the gypsies are hiding." He growled.
Gathering up as much blood and saliva as he could, Clopin spat, and was very proud of his aim. "Hit him again!" Frollo demanded, smearing the ooze from his eye.
Clopin felt the pain that caused tears to spring to his eyes and loud moans to escape his lips. He tried to remember how many lashes a man could survive without dying. If the soldier was using all his strength, he figured he won't last over twenty without passing out. If he was holding back as he is supposed to according to the law, Clopin could easily last fifty. However, easily was relative.
After twenty-four lashes, Clopin finally let out a small shriek of pain, but quickly shut his mouth. He could never remembering being in so much agony before! It clouded his brain, forcing nothing but flaring nerves to come to mind. Clopin was everywhere at once, past, present, and even future. He was having a hard time remembering anything, but one thing was clear in his mind: stay silent. Not a word.
"Where are the gypsies?" Frollo hissed into his ear.
Clopin forced his watery eyes open. Frollo's face jumped into view. How had this man not aged over the years? It had easily been twenty years since the time Clopin had first laid eyes on him. It was just before the Court had been discovered and inhabited by the gypsies. Clopin himself had only been in his teens at the time, but he never forgot that hideous face that arrived in his nightmares. Clopin's greatest enemy… perhaps monsters never aged.
For a moment, Clopin couldn't remember where he was, or the year. His eyes glossed over, and threated to drag him to the depths of unconsciousness. Was he ten or forty? Was his family alive or had Frollo killed them already?
"Playing hide and seek." He mumbled, becoming lucid just long enough to spit that out. Keeping his eyes opened proved to be too much of a strain, so he closed them, breathing heavily, but not crying. His knees tickled as a tinkling sensation of blood streamed down them. It was almost amusing (in a morbid curious sort of way) to him how he could feel that despite the anguish on his back.
He waited for the lashes to resume, actually semi-hoping for them to start once more. At least during the momentarily new wave of pain, he could escape into the numb part of himself. He knew deep down that the more strokes he received, the worse the pain would be later, but he didn't want to focus on that now. Besides, a part of him wanted to pass out and escape and he felt he would let himself if he made it to fifty.
The flogging continued. Clopin begged for the moment he would become immune to the throbbing anguish, but the time never came. Each new whoosh numbed the previous one, but felt much more painful that the one before it. With each hit, a number when up in his head. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three…
Finally, Clopin counted forty. He was gasping and whimpering in pain now, but knew screaming would carry all the way to where his people were being held as prisoners. "I can count…" he mumbled either in his head or out loud, he wasn't quite sure. "Jacques taught me…"
"Where are the gypsies hiding?"
Oh right, that's where he was. It was funny to Clopin that Frollo had to remind him. "With the wind…" He slurred. "Gone with the wind. Gypsies are always riding the wind."
He heard Frollo stand, and he braced himself for more flogging. His body screamed for no more, but he knew it was a fruitless request. He waited in the tense air, wishing they would strike and get it over with. In some ways, waiting for the torment was actually worse than receiving it.
Yet it didn't come. Curiosity overpowering exhaustion, Clopin eyes fluttered opened and he turned his head towards the back where he could see the man with a cat o' nine tails whip looking tired and Frollo with his back towards the gypsy. Clopin focused on the man with the whip. The ends of the whip were covered in tissue and blood… his blood. The man holding it seemed to be panting and rubbing his arm.
"Poor baby," Clopin mumbled darkly.
Suddenly, Frollo gave a half turn back to Clopin, a sinister grin spreading across his face. There was some madness in his eyes that rarely showed. It didn't surprise Clopin, though it was so unusual for Frollo's madness to be showing.
Clopin had a feeling he should have been more scared, but he just felt tired. He was tired of fighting, tired of hating, just so past tired. If he was going to die within the week, why should he care anymore, really? Not to say he wasn't ready to betray his people, far from it. He was just tried of Frollo.
"Can we get on with it?" Clopin said with an eye roll. He was greatly pleased this offset the guard he mentally named Whipping Salaud and Frollo.
"Very well," Frollo approached Clopin holding a melting candle on atop a round small handle holder. Without warning, he dumped the melting wax onto Clopin's back.
Initially, Clopin let out a strangled scream, but he forced himself to bite down on his lip. He could taste the blood, but he bit down harder, doing his very best not to scream. He could barely feel the pain in his lip for his back was literally on fire. He could feel consciousness fleeing from him, but he didn't fight back. He grabbed onto the slipping feeling, and finally allowed himself momentarily release from the worse agony he had ever felt.
Devoid of dreams, Clopin came to as water was splashed onto his face. He was so miserable, and couldn't remember why.
"Where are the gypsies?"
"You can never rid of us." He garbled automatically, going in and out of sleep.
"Where are they hidden?"
"Where you'll never find them…" Clopin mumbled, feeling a light feeling around him. Someone slapped him, and he finally was fully woken up. He let out a gasp and a moan, but still refused to scream. He glared up at Frollo now as his face was inches from his. "I am the only one that knows, and I'll never tell. Beat me, crush me, and even kill me, but you can never break the Gypsy King. Claude Frollo, how disappointing it must be… that you can't break me." Despite the intense pain, Clopin let out a giggle. "That rhymed. I must remember to write a song about it."
For a moment, it almost seemed like Clopin shattered Frollo. Body shaking, his hands reached forward as if to strangle him. His eyes flared angrily, but suddenly he stopped. Calm and collected, his voice was as sly as a snake. "No matter. Perhaps I should bring Esmeralda in and give her a good flogging too. Maybe that will loosen your tongue."
And Clopin laughed. He laughed at Frollo's bluff because it was too pathetic. He laughed because the thought terrified him. He laughed because, if nothing else, Frollo was becoming desperate. "Even if you did, I would never talk, nor would she. Besides, you never would. Frollo, you think I haven't seen the way you look at her?"
Just then, Frollo's madness sneaked all the way through, but just briefly. "Clever little vermin, twisting the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts."
"What does the bible say about denial?" Clopin countered.
"Take him away and let him rot with the other cretins."
But Clopin wasn't done. A fire lite up in his soul the way only it could when someone threated Esmeralda. "Listen here and listen well, Claude Frollo." he growled, dropping his whimsical tone for the first time in a long, long time. "If you dare to hurt Esmeralda, hurt a single hair on her head, the grave won't stop me from coming back and doing the same to you tenfold! If you hurt her – and I'll know if you do – you'll taste the fires of hell!"
"I said, take him away!"
They were dragging Clopin, but he was too physically exhausted to fight back. "I'll know!" He yelled after him.
Then Clopin wanted to cry. He wanted to cry from both the pain and the situation he and his people, especially Esmeralda, were stuck in. But he had to ignore the temptation because he was thrown back into the same cell he was in before. They threw him back first, which caused such a wave of anguish Clopin shut his eyes and gritted his teeth to avoid shrieking. There was no way he would have lasted that long, only to fail now.
"Clopin!" People crowded around him. Clopin opened his eyes and gave a small smile to help calm the concerned looks "We were so worried!" gushed one. "We thought we heard a scream…?"
Clopin made a mental praise in his name for not shouting save that lone short one when Frollo poured the wax on him. "Wasn't me." He lied. People were starting to give him questionable looks as if to why he was lying on the floor still. Unfortunately, Clopin barely had enough energy to stay awake, let alone sit up. The pain helped, but his body still craved sleep.
"Told you it wasn't him!" declared a younger lad by the name of Alexandre. He glanced down at Clopin, wearing a triumphant grin. At once, it melted into panic. "Clopin!" He gasped, staring down at the man with wide horrified eyes. "Is that blood?"
"Probably," Clopin gave him grin, feeling lightheaded. "Everyone bleeds, kid."
Before he could protest, a woman pushed him over so he was on his stomach. There was a loud gasp and a few people started crying. There was a loud and active commotion above and around him, but Clopin was starting to feel like he didn't care anymore again. He started to slip into a trance state of not quite asleep, but not awake. It reminded him of being very drunk.
A woman bent down until she was inches from Clopin's face. In his current state of mind, Clopin wouldn't have even bothered to focus on her, until he was well aware that the woman was now shirtless. After the shock wore off, Clopin remembered wondering how she managed that with her elbows tied together. "This is going to hurt." She warned, but Clopin was too busy staring to have it really process in his head.
Suddenly, someone started to mess with the inflamed wounds on his back. "Hello?" Clopin snapped, turning his head to glare at whoever dared. He did his best not to yell, but that hurt!
Before his strength betrayed him, Clopin took a moment to see that most people, men and woman, we now shirtless. He spotted an odd couple in the back removing the male's shirt by having one of the gypsies grab ahold of it with their teeth to pull it off.
'What comes up must come down…' Clopin thought as his head hit the floor again. He made a mental note to hurt gravity should he ever get the chance.
Laverne's mother Clair grabbed ahold of Clopin's hand. "You need to untie me, Clopin." Grunting, Clopin ran his hand across the knot and weaved his fingers until he discovered the weak link and the knot loosened enough for Clair to be free.
With his back facing Clopin (likely due to his binds), someone shoved a rolled up shirt into Clopin's mouth. "Bite on that."
It tasted awfully like sweat and smelled something terrible. It occurred to Clopin that the shirt probably had gone a month without being washed. He was about to spit it out when he felt someone, probably Clair, peel away wax off his skin. Wanting to howl, Clopin focused on biting the shirt as hard as he could. 'Forget the pain!' He told himself over and over. 'Just bite! Bite! Bite, saluad! You are the Gypsy King! Show no weakness!'
When she picked out the wax out of his gashes, Clopin thought he would faint, but he somehow held on. Just as Clopin was about to give in and finally let his pain be heard, he could hear someone singing.
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were–I have not seen
As others saw–I could not bring
My passions from a common spring–
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow–I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone–
And all I lov'd–I lov'd alone–
Then–in my childhood–in the dawn
Of a most stormy life–was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still–
From the torrent, or the fountain–
From the red cliff of the mountain–
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold–
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by–
From the thunder, and the storm–
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view–
By the time the song was finished, Clopin's back was being swathe in bandages made from the shirts people had eagerly given their king. Clopin's back had become something of a constant throbbing that seemed to dull down and all Clopin wanted to do was sleep. Instead, he forced his palms onto the ground and pushed himself up.
"You need to rest!" Clair protested, but Clopin held a hand to silence her. It took a lot effort, and even more waving down help, Clopin managed to prop himself into a standing position using the wall for support. He smiled at his people, soaking in their gratitude. These people made each of those torturous moments earlier worth it. These people, who have nothing, had that taken away, and now faced death, gave the shirts on their backs for Clopin.
He loved them dearly. In a heartbeat, no faster, he would give anything to set them free. Little Laverne looked up at Clopin, old tears in her eyes. He had nothing to give them, not even hope. The only thing Clopin had left was song…
Slowly, he opened his mouth and sang the lyrics of a happy song. Some of the notes were slightly off because of the occasional flinch of pain, but Clopin sang as loud as he could.
How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love's beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there's no untying!
Yet remember, 'Midst our wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.
Guards were running towards them now. There were shouts for Clopin to be quiet, so he sang louder. Quickly, the other Gypsies joined in, singing a song of freedom and love.
Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;
Longest stays, when sorest chidden;
Laughs and flies, when press'd and bidden.
Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odor to the lily,
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver,
Then bind Love to last forever.
Clopin thought it was an echo from the gloomy Palace of Justice, but realized it was the booming voice of every gypsy there, shouting the last words with as much passion as they could.
Love's a fire that needs renewal
Of fresh beauty for its fuel:
Love's wing molts when caged and captured,
Only free, he soars enraptured.
Can you keep the bee from ranging
Or the ringdove's neck from changing?
No! nor fetter'd Love from dying
In the knot there's no untying.
And for a moment, Clopin could have sworn he heard Esmeralda singing as well. The thought made him grin.
o.O.o
Gadjos- Means 'non-Romani' or 'outsider'. Though not technically an insult, Clopin usually means it as one.
Bienvenue- Welcome
Monsieur- Sir
Pardonnez-moi- Pardon me
Salaud- Bastard
I did not write the songs/poems used in this. I've written poems before, but none I feel are good enough to be shared. So, I borrowed some poems by my favorite authors. "Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe, and "Freedom and Love" by Campbell. They're both in Public Domain, but don't forget those brilliant writers wrote it, not me.
For the record, I have no idea if they played Hide and Seek back then, but I couldn't find anywhere that said they didn't, so I just kept the line because I liked it.
This was the first fan fiction I have ever written. I wrote it back in 2013, and had intended to let it be a one-shot while I never touched fan fic again. But for various reasons (that I explain at the end of the 2nd part), I wrote a quick sequel, and another to follow-up that one. And, since I could, I went back and edited this first part a bit. Even so, if the writing seems a little different from the next two, it's because there was a year and a half in-between them and I didn't completely rewrite it when I decided to post it.