A/N: I got a review and about 4 favorites, so I'm going to keep at it. I just don't to write a story people may not be reading.
I would still like more reviews, because they inspire me to continue. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I want to make sure you are having fun reading this.
Critiques are WELCOME.
Chapter 2: Not a Fool
The bells of Notre Dame echoed through the nunnery at dawn, waking all those whom had taken their solemn vows of eternal service to God and their community.
Soleil Charlotte slowly opened her round hazel eyes, squinting at the appearance of light. A couple of her sisters were already out of bed and dressing in their habits.
She yawned and slid off her cot, the cold stone floor shocking her feet awake. She quickly tiptoed to the wardrobe in the left corner of the room, grabbed her habit and a thick pair of woolen socks. She sat and quickly pulled on the socks to protect her feet from the freezing ground, then walked behind a changing screen and peeled off her night dress and changed into her uniform. Once she was dressed in her robes, she picked up her veil and walked up to the looking glass. She set down the veil on an old wooden side table. She opened the single drawer beneath the hard wood, pulled out a horse hair brush and combed through her dull, dry hair.
Soleil Charlotte was not an extraordinary beauty, but by no means ugly. She had a long, soft, oval face; a skinny pert nose, and a small mouth with light, rosy lips. Short curly bangs swept across her forehead, with long dirty blonde straw-like tresses dusting the middle of her back. Her eyes were a dark hazel; large, round, heavily lidded, and twinkling with a trustworthy kindness. Her figure was quite slight, with long graceful limbs covered in creamy, peach toned skin. Her beauty was one likened to that the Virgin Mary; resembling a sense compassion, kindness, and humbleness- some of which were qualities she possessed- she did not have the sex appeal or lustful beauty that so many women had.
"Ouch!" She yelped suddenly, catching a knot in her hair.
After untangling the little rat's nest, she set down the brush and pushed her tedious waves back and pulled the veil over her head. Her bangs poked out from underneath the head piece and so she tucked them gently back in place. She looked herself over in the mirror to be sure she was well put together, and left for breakfast.
Notre Dame was relatively empty that morning. Many people had decided to skip morning mass in order to attend and prepare for Paris' favorite celebration- The Festival of Fools. Soleil Charlotte was not a fan of this holiday. Why would people dedicate an entire day to be silly and foolish? There were already quite a few people in the city that seemed to be celebrating this on a daily basis. She felt there were much more important things to be accomplished; such as helping the less fortunate who were starving and sick. Being foolish would not help their cause.
"Soleil," called a voice from behind her.
She did like being called by her first name- she felt that being named after the sun, people would not take her seriously.
She turned to see her father, the man who had given up monkhood in order to care for her.
"Papa, you know I prefer to go by Charlotte." She replied with a kind smile.
"Why? You are the light of my life!" He teased. "Alright, Charlotte. Come, walk with me- I feel as though we haven't had any quality time in such a long while."
He was right. Charlotte was very focused in contemplation and charity work and they hadn't had a real conversation in weeks. He could understand her dedication to her position as a nun, and though she was not his legitimate child, he always felt a need to be around her, to be sure she was happy. Even as a monk, he never felt as much love and pure bliss as he did with his daughter.
"How was the mass this morning?"
"Quite empty- many people are out preparing for the festivities, I suppose," Charlotte said; a hint of resentment in her voice. "I don't see why we would have to create a holiday based purely on silliness."
"It might not be the most rational of celebrations, but it does bring the people together. They do have a lot of fun."
"I appreciate that it brings people together, but why can't they bond of something more beneficial? A single nunnery cannot care for the entire impoverished class of Paris."
He paused and put his hand on his chin, looking at her quizzically; contemplating the way in which he could explain and help her understand benefits to this holiday.
"Charlotte, who puts on the Festival of Fools?"
"Gypsies."
"And would you say they are impoverished?"
"I suppose."
"Who makes the most profit from the festival?"
Charlotte sighed in defeat.
"The gypsies. I understand your point, Papa."
"I think you should go." He suggested.
"What?"
"You should go to the festival. I think it would be a good learning experience."
"Papa, I can't! I have duties I need to attend to here. I do not think my going will be a better use of my time."
"I insist. I will go have a chat with Mother Superior Greta and tell her you will be attending the festival. Besides, my dear, God's work can be taken outside the church walls."
"Do you recall the last time I went out by myself?"
"Of course, you little imp! You had me worried sick- but you were only seven. I think twelve years might have matured you enough to keep you more careful and alert. Just make me one promise."
"Yes?"
"Promise you'll at least try and enjoy yourself," he said tenderly putting a hand on her shoulder.
Charlotte gave him an unsure look. He knew she didn't want to go, but he also knew exposing oneself to new experiences will allow them to better understand people, and most important, themselves.
"Now off with you!" He shooed her away. "And change out of your habit; you don't want it to get dirty!"
She slowly made her way to the abbey, trying to waste as much time as possible so she wouldn't have to be at the celebration long. When she finally got there, she changed out of her habit and into a long sleeved white dress and layered a beige pinafore over it, then covered her dreary locks with a faded green handkerchief. Catching her reflection in the looking glass, she gave disappointed huff and stormed out of the nunnery and into Paris.
The streets were busy with people in crazy, colorful costumes and gypsies preforming at every corner. She began to walk around, examining all the decorations, shops, and people made up for the festival.
It was very similar to what she had remembered when she was mischievous little girl- it was full of beautifully displayed food, toys, and clothing- it was a magnificent sight. No doubt Notre Dame was the jewel of Paris, but the change of scenery opened her mind to other types of beauty.
She approached the square where the rest of the city had begun to crowd as the time approached for the most anticipated event- the crowning of the King of Fools. A bouncy tune began to play, and the crowd started singing in unison. Men in black robes began to march raising colorful flags were making their way into a large round space that the audience had made for their arrival. Confused and curious, she slid around people to get a better look.
Come and join the feast
Of
"Fools!" bellowed a gypsy dressed in gold and purple costume with a violet mask, sliding out from under the black cloaks of the marching men.
The colorfully dressed man was long and lanky, and had a long large nose and tanned skin. His shoulder length black hair was half hidden by an extravagant scruffy purple hat while a sharp goatee graced his chin. He began to sing and dance with a stout, hunched man who had gotten into the center of the circle. His quirky humor and his playful personality made her feel comfortable; that it was okay for her to enjoy herself. He bounced around the crowd continuing to belt the song and dance as though it would be his last opportunity- he was going to give the people a show.
"Hurry, hurry-here's your chance!" he sang as he approached an older man in a large black and purple hat and matching black robes.
"Judge Frollo." Charlotte whispered to herself.
She knew this man better than she would have cared to. Ever since she could remember, he had been coming to the church on a regular basis. But she had never seen him at the steeple, only him going up and down the bell tower, which was completely off limits. In her pre-teens, curiosity got the best of her and she tried to sneak up multiple times, but always had been caught by the judge. Once, she had caught a glance of a boy hunched over a table, but then pulled swiftly back down by thee firm grip of the judge and to her father. He demanded every time that she be punished with a sound lashing, which he would refuse instantly. Both felt being yelled at a bitter old man with dark secrets was punishment enough- as well as a week's worth of cleaning chamber pots.
"See the mystery and romance!" He continued, nudging Frollo knowingly with his elbow.
"Come one-, come a-ll! See the finest girl in France, make an entrance to entrance! Dance La Esmeralda-, DANCE!"
And with a puff of pink smoke, the man was gone, and replaced with the most beautiful woman Charlotte had ever seen. She danced sensuously in a showy red dress; with thick, shiny, raven hair moving with her and almost having a dance of its own; her crystalline aqua eyes piercing the souls of her audience. She teased the judge by climbing on his lap and kissing his nose, but then smashing his ridiculous hat over his face- which made the audience roar with laughter.
As the beautiful woman danced, Charlotte, for the first time in quite a while, was envious. She couldn't figure out why though; beauty and appearance had never been concerns to her. As a nun there was no reason, because she has no one to impress except the Lord- and such petty things were of no importance to him. Deciding now was not the time to contemplate this moment of weakness, she pushed the thought out of her mind and continued watching.
Esmeralda finished her number by taking the spear from a soldier, stabbed it into the stage, and swung her body around the staff until she touched ground, and then bowed her head as she was showered in applause and gold coins.
The gypsy man reappeared and proceeded to sing in the same tune, excited for the next event- the crowning of The King of Fools. Many masked people were pulled up on stage by Esmeralda, including the stout, hunched man she had seen the gypsy man dancing with at the start of the feast.
Esmeralda went to the beginning of the contestant line and proceeded to pull off each mask where the faces beneath twisted themselves to look as ugly as possible. Each was booed and thrown off stage until they came to the last- the hunched man. Grabbing at his face, Esmeralda tried to tear off what she thought to be a false visage, but was indeed his true face. The Esmeralda and the crowd gasped in horror, and people began to panic.
"It's the bell ringer from Notre Dame!" Charlotte had caught amongst a sea of comments.
"No," Charlotte said aloud.
The poor creature covered his face in embarrassment, ready to run.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, don't panic!" Called the gypsy man. "We asked for ugliest face in Paris- and here he is! Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame!"
He began to sing again, crowning the hunchback King of Fools. He was carried on a chair to a small platform where the gypsy presented him with a scepter. The main event and the gyspy's drawn-out melody finished, everyone cheered for their new king as confetti rained down in celebration.
Seeing the tears and look of triumph on his face, Charlotte felt very proud and happy for the boy. Being a modest woman, she simply smiled broadly and clapped loudly for his majesty.
Suddenly, a tomato struck his face, and the whole crowd paused in shock. A head of lettuce was thrown next, hitting his shoulder causing him to slip on the remains of the red fruit beneath him; knocking him over. Before she knew it, he was tied down to a wheel on the stage, spinning as he was struck with various foods. He begged for help from his master, but no one answered his plea. This had to stop, even if Charlotte had to do it herself. So made her way to the stage to free the poor thing from his binds and the cruelty that he had been shown.
Before she could get there, the beautiful dancer was already climbing the steps. The crowd went silent, no more things were thrown. She removed a scarf from around her waist and leaned closer to the hunchback, who flinched as she came close. She whispered kind words to him and wiped his cheek.
"You there- gypsy girl," Called Frollo's voice from his seat on the main stage. "Get down at once!"
"Just as soon as I free this poor creature." She responded, pulling out a knife.
"I forbid it!"
And she cut the ropes that held him down in an act rebellion
"How dare you defy me!"
"Well, it appears we've crowned the wrong fool," Esmeralda yelled, picking up the stained crown Quasimodo had been wearing. "Because the only fool I see is you!"
And she threw the crown, which landed at his feet with a comical squeak.
Angry and flustered, he dispatched his guards on the defiant beauty. They approached her on horses, as she counted out the ten soldiers. She pulled a hanky from her large bosom, feigning the grief of her situation.
"What's a poor girl to do?" She sobbed sarcastically. She blew her nose into the cloth, and with another puff of pink smoke, she disappeared.
"Oh, boys!" Called Esmeralda's teasing voice from a basket of props and costumes. And the chase for her began.
The crowd aided in her escape and dampened the guards' pursuit with cruel obstacles. Esmeralda was quite impressive in her get away; she had been able to knock four guards off their steeds by throwing a helmet like a discus at their heads- she even gave a bow, as if it was just a performance for the feast.
As she began to skate on a wooden mobile, Charlotte glanced over at the humiliated judge. His face was twisted with a passionate fury. There was a murderous look in his eyes that made Charlotte quake. If he caught her, Charlotte knew she was going to face a Hell on earth. With this new found concern, she looked back at the gypsy; now on top of the bright red stage cover being twisted in a spiced violet blanket. When the cloth was pulled away, La Esmeralda was gone.
In her absence, dark clouds covered the sky and rain began to sprinkle. Attention was back on the hideous boy back on the platform. After Judge Frollo ordered his men to search for the girl, he approached Quasimodo, a look of disgust on his face. The defeated boy whispered an apology to his cruel master, and limped like a wounded dog back into his sanctuary.
Alright, friends. I know that this chapter is mostly reiterating the events of the beginning of the Disney film with a nun thrown in- I promise next chapter will have more substance. I'm already working on the third chapter now, and Charlotte is going to put a spin on things. Just lettin' you know. So
R&R if you want more!
Much Love,
Hannah
