Author's Note: I recently finished reading Victor Hugo's novel "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", which inspired me to re-watch the Disney movie. And in doing so I realized, Disney far oversimplified the character of Frollo. The Frollo of the novel is a human, sympathetic creature. I was truly sad when he died. So I wrote this to plead his case. Sort of. It turned into more of a philosophical thing. But it was a nice recoup and personal wrap up after The Shadow-Men. I think I'll do something fluffy and a little more fun next. This story is not fun. It's not funny. It's pathetically serious.
"Claude Frollo, step forth."
The man who came forth was tall and gaunt. He glided as opposed to walked across the dark floor, his heavy black robes swishing behind him. He held in his hands a triangular headdress of black and gray cloth. A single read scarf flowed from its center. From this costume the Judges could tell that the man before them was a judge of the mortal world, likely a Frenchman.
The man came to a halt before the great semicircle of judges before him. He had seen them once before, the night the gypsy escaped the cathedral; faceless entities clothed in red monk robes. They rose high above him, looking perhaps down upon and through him. Six to the left, six to the right, and one in the center that rose above the rest, and clothed not in red, but in black, so that he was hardly noticeable in the darkness of the hall.
The Hall of Judgment was unlike any on the mortal plane. The floor was translucent, and looked down into a swirling blackness of cloud and smoke and stars. Were it not for the hardness beneath his feet, Frollo would not have known there were a floor at all. There were no walls or ceiling, but the same darkness below stretched to both sides and above. In short, the Hall of Judgment was hardly a hall at all, but more a place set in time and space where it would serve its sole purpose.
"The case of Claude Frollo is cut and dry." Announced the first judge on the right. "He shall be sent to Hell, under the charges of Genocide and Homicide.
Frollo took a step back. "And," the Judge continued, "for Running."
"What?" croaked Frollo, his ethereal throat constricted in fear, "I have not run anywhere."
"Perhaps." Admitted the same Judge. "But you had every intention of running just now, did you not?"
"But I did not run!" Frollo protested. "Am I to be judged for a crime I only thought of?"
"The crime of Running shall be omitted." Replied the fifth right judge.
"But then we must call into question his other offenses!" cried a Judge from the left. "For how many of the stated crimes were enacted only in essence, not in action?"
"Such is not necessary." Protested a Judge from the Right.
"But such omission must be applied to all possible cases." Insisted the sixth left Judge.
The empty hoods turned to face the tall black Judge between them, who had remained silent and motionless throughout the conversation. "The final Judgment is yours, O Lord."
The Dark One stood silent. Then, in a voice deep and echoing, it replied "You may proceed with a cross examination."
Frollo sighed in relief, but then returned to his worried position as indecipherable whispers shot through the semicircle of Judges. At last, the first on the right spoke again. "Claude Frollo has been charged with Genocide in the case of the Romani People. Do you deny it?"
The question, although ostensibly aimed at Frollo, was targeted more to the Judges on the left of the Dark One. The third left judge offered up the first point.
"How many Romani has Frollo killed?"
"Records state around a hundred or so."
"I asked not for the records. How many has Claude Frollo killed with his own hands?"
There was hesitation before the response. "One." The first judge replied sulkily.
"But!" cried the third Judge on the right. "He has ordered the deaths of the others. Therein lies the crime of Genocide!"
"But those who killed under his order had every ability to disobey." Protested the second Judge on the Left. "Shall we pin their sins upon him?"
"He ordered it!"
"They obeyed!"
"Silence." The Dark One ordered. It did not shout, nor was there anger in its voice. It was a simple spoken command. "Proceed to the next charge."
The sixth Judge to the right spoke up. "The charge of Homicide. The murder of a Romani Woman." It paused for dramatic effect. "A Romani Mother."
There was murmuring of discomfort from both sides of the Dark One. "Is this the one Romani he killed with his own hands?" the Dark One questioned.
"Yes." Responded the first to the right.
"But it was an accident!" Protested the third to the left. "He merely knocked her down and she broke her neck! It was through no true fault of Claude Frollo!"
"You simplify the issue." Replied the second to the right. "Frollo chased her down on horseback. When they reached the cathedral, he took her child, and kicked her to the ground, where she died."
"There was no possible way for him to determine that his actions would lead to her death! And is it not also true that he took the child in, and raised him?"
"He did so only at the behest of the archdeacon." The first right Judge countered icily. "Otherwise he would have drowned the child, and added another death to his soul."
"But he did not. He raised the boy for twenty years."
"Twenty years of confinement do not erase the stain of murder. And is it not true as well that he tried to kill the boy again, just before he died?"
"He failed in doing so."
"But the attempt was made."
In the midst of the debate, Frollo stood silently, twisting the red scarf. His skin had become lined with a thin layer of sweat. He did not ponder why such things as sweat even existed within the plan of the Afterlife, and instead turned his thoughts to more pressing matters.
He did not think himself to be a bad man, let alone one destined to Hell. He had done all he had done in the very best interest of the people of Paris. He had fought for decades to remove the sources of temptation and corruption from their lives, fought to salvage their very souls from the brink of damnation. But he was to be punished for his methods? Were not his intentions only the purest?
"Claude Frollo." Remarked the Dark One. "You too, may speak. What have you to say in your defense?"
The judge looked up into the empty hood of the Dark One. He seemed to tower ever higher. Frollo felt the fear of his final chance scurry down his spine.
"I-" he began, and hesitated. He swallowed. "I will admit, I have, perhaps, made mistakes. At my behest, men have killed. At my behest, men have died. I have ratted out the gypsies and the corrupt, and I have judged, and persecuted, just like yourselves.
"But I have done it all in the name of God Almighty. I have done it all to ensure His Glory, and to save the common people. What you deem sin I had long since deemed necessity. It is true, I admit I commanded the hunt and deaths of the gypsies, but I myself should not be judged for what I myself did not do.
"And the woman. I… I did not mean for her to die. It was not my intention. All I meant was for her to come to justice. And I did not drown Quasimodo, and his confinement was for his own protection. You must know what happened the day he left the bell tower." There was a widespread murmur from both sides, while the Dark One remained silent.
"You have made your point." The Dark One said at last. "I have reached my verdict."
Have you?
Author's note: I actually had a lot of trouble coming up with the title for this. At first, I thought I'd call it "Dies Irae", (Day of Wrath) after the latin chant, but then I realized the translation made no sense with the story. So I thought "Dies Existimatio", which I think is "Day of Judgment", but I really wanted a Latin chant. Finally, while I was watching HoND, I realized that in the background of "Hellfire", the monks were chanting "Mea Culpa". So I checked the translation of it, and it came out as "My Fault." And I was pathetically happy about this. There, just a bit of trivia for you all.