Right from the moment when I met her, saw her,
I said, "She's gorgeous!" and I fell!
Here in town there's only she who is beautiful as me,
So I'm making plans to woo and marry Belle!
The day was hot in the village of Molyneaux, most residents seeking shade inside their houses or the cooler shops about town. In the middle of July and with their harvest season still months away, the air of the village could be described as less than joyful. Dull, humdrum work filled the hours of every dull, humdrum day. So when a horse and several carts came wheeling through the village one late afternoon, many townspeople were intrigued.
A squat, fat man with a moustache that hid his cheeks hopped off of his horse, somewhat deftly for a man of his size. Probably a merchant to sell his wares, each villager thought with disappointment. It wasn't until a young, beautiful lady stepped out of a cart did they look back again. With long brown hair and large hazel eyes, most women immediately designated her as some bewitching brat who wouldn't dare lift a finger to help her old man. But, to their surprise, she immediately rolled up her sleeves and began carrying the heaviest boxes and equipment up to the abandoned lot before them.
In a matter of days, the rickety watermill and shed was transformed into a quaint, sunny home on top of the hill. The musty, grimy tanner's cellar underground was now used as an inventor's workshop. With the exception of an occasional splutter and a puff of smoke from the shop, the man and his daughter now lived in the perfect image of a farmhouse in the quiet village. Children seemed to love the new woman, for she was kind and gentle, and would always read them a tale from one of her many storybooks. When asked her name, she gave a smile and said, "Belle."
"Of course it is," a woman would scoff, taking in her obvious good looks and sweet nature. But, Belle never seemed to boast about her beauty or flaunt it at all. If one were to talk to Belle in depth, she would seem blissfully unaware of her comeliness to an intriguing degree. The only thing she would ever prattle on about was books and stories and her thoughts, never once remarking at how she adored so-and-so's dress or how so-and-so was amazingly handsome. She was just as eccentric as her father! So older women lost interest in her, girls her age never had a clue what she was talking about, and only the bookseller really enjoyed the lively lady's company.
Lines of men would tip their hats to her, wink at her, kiss her knuckles, and even wolf whistle to her on occasion. Belle never noticed, and if she did, she would wave or smile politely, a "Bonjour!" the most any man ever got out of her. They still insisted that, one day, they would make Belle swoon for them. And so, on this dry July afternoon, hardly a week and a half after Belle and Maurice arrived, the men continued to try and capture her attention as the beauty walked to and from shops and peddlers on her daily errands.
The baker made fresh sweetbread today, the scent wafting through the thin, hot air like an oil drop in water. The smell of honeyed dough hit Belle just a few feet from the shop, and she sighed happily at it. Okay, maybe just a loaf, she reasoned as she was brought to the shop by the tantalizing treat. The baker was a jolly man, a few years younger than her father, but perhaps a little rounder. He stroked his full red beard thoughtfully as he pondered putting candied fruits onto cakes, when he heard the rickety door swing open.
"Belle! Good to see you out and about," he greeted warmly. Wiping the floury gruel off his large, hairy hands, he approached the counter and the girl. "What can I do for you? I have some rye loaves just coming out of the ovens," he tempted, tilting his head sideways.
Belle shook her head. "Just a loaf of your sweetbread, if you have any left." She stood on her tip-toes to try and see if there was any more in the back of the bakery.
"Of course we do. Hold on one moment." He made his way to the back of the shop, searching for his delicious batch of bread.
Gaston had been having a pretty good day.
He had already killed two enormous bucks on this morning's hunt, which were currently being beheaded and mounted for his vast collection at the tavern. He sold one for quite a pretty penny, while the other he kept as a personal victory feast. The shoemaker had fixed up his old pair of black leather boots, which now shone like a black lake. He had rolled around with one (Or was it two?) of the barmaids on his bed just after lunch, and had since presumed his slick-haired neatness.
Yeah, it had been a pretty good day, hadn't it?
He hadn't realized he had voiced his thoughts until LeFou piped up, "It definitely has been, Gaston!" He trotted happily next to the hulking man, never one to miss a chance on complimenting the black-haired brute. LeFou's face became serious suddenly, and he turned to his friend. Stopping his bouncy gait, he looked upon his companion. "Gaston, you may want to stop hunting for a while, we're running out of space at the tavern for your trophies; it's getting ridiculous." He looked his friend in the eyes, and for a moment LeFou thought he believed him.
That was, until they both couldn't contain their laughter any longer. Gaston burst into loud, thunderous guffaws and LeFou followed with his hiccup-like chuckles. Gaston thought he may just have to compliment LeFou on that joke, until he spotted a flutter of brown hair. He glanced up just in time to see a woman walk into the bakery, a woman he had never seen before. Grasping LeFou by his coat and stopping his chuckles short, he spoke with urgency, "Did you see that?"
LeFou turned to where the man was pointing, to spot a shock of brown locks and a wave of a green gown. Thinking with all his might, he remembered the newest inventor had a daughter who fit the vague description. "It may be the new girl in the village, who moved into the house on the hill. Y'know, that inventor is really some-" his remark was cut short by Gaston promptly dropping his coat and walking toward the strange girl, leaving his smaller companion in the hot dust.
"-if you have any left," was all Gaston caught of her and the baker's exchange when he stepped through the door. The baker said something that probably wasn't important, then headed to the back of the bakery. Perfect! Gaston thought. Some alone time with the mystery woman. He really hoped she was at least attractive or worth his time, just as penance for him actually pursuing her.
"Might I say, that green dress really complements your hair," he approached the lady from behind using his smoothest Casanova tone. She turned at the voice, and he was delighted to see that she wasn't merely pretty, she was quite beautiful! Did his breath really catch as he caught sight of her? No, it was probably just his lungs reacting to all the yeast floating about in here. He leaned easily against the wooden counter, towering over the girl and her basket of goods. Was he really spotting a book in the basket? Maybe it was a cookbook.
She blushed lightly, but then seemed to take the compliment in her stride. "Thank you," she answered in a voice clear as bells. Unsure of what to say or what to do, she continued waiting for her bread to arrive.
Oh, so she wants me to make all the moves? No matter! Gaston was an expert at winning over women. He would have her in his arms within minutes. "I'm sure you already knew this, but I'm Gaston." He flashed his cockiest grin and raised that wiggly eyebrow.
"I'm Belle, and no, I did not already know your name, Gaston." At this point, the baker returned with her bread, and she cheerfully gave him a few coins and received her food. How did she do this like she was actually pleased to see the baker, when she was obviously so much better than commoners such as him? Gaston followed behind her as she made her way out of the shop.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" He asked, puzzled. He couldn't have heard her correctly, could he?
"I said that my name was Belle, and that I had no idea who you were until you introduced yourself to me," she answered somewhat slowly, as if she thought he may have been simple. Gaston continued to walk with Belle.
"Well, as long as you know it now, you can brag to everyone in the village that you've had an actual conversation with me," he placed his fingers to his chest, as if she should be grateful that this man chose her to talk to.
"What on earth would compel me to do that?" Belle wondered aloud, covering the insult with her sweet-as-cherries voice.
"I'm sure you may have noticed, but I am a person of great importance here in Molyneaux. I have many a trophy for my uncountable number of hunting kills hanging in the tavern."
"You must be very proud of your accomplishments," she inspected a couple lemons in one of the fruit stands on the main road.
"You should come to the tavern with me; I'd even let you buy me a beer!"
"I'm not that big of a drinker."
"Then how about you just gander at my trophies, along with the rest of the village?"
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to get in anyone's way of seeing your mounted heads."
"Then you should join me for a meal at my home. I'm sure the barmaids would just love to cook me dinner!"
"I had a rather large lunch, and besides, my father needs me at my home. I have some very important things that I need to get to him right away." She started off toward the direction of her house. "It was a pleasure meeting you," she turned to say, remembering her manners.
"Just come to my home if you ever get, you know, lonely!" he called before strolling away. She's just playing hard to get, he thought coolly. She'll have to come around sometime.
"I certainly will keep that in mind!" She replied over her shoulder, her pace picking up just the slightest bit. My lord!, she thought with annoyance, Please forbid that he ever may breed.
Alright, so their exchange was kinda inspired by the one in Anchorman, during the party scene. But still, I'm really pleased with how this came out! It was a lot easier to write than I expected, probably because Gaston is the most fun character I have ever written ever. He's like if my narcissistic side grew any larger, then lost a few brain cells. (If that makes any sense) But so anyways, this is really just the tip of the iceberg with all the BatB stories I wanna write. So expect more, cause it's coming slowly but surely!
Please Review and Rate and all that jazz.