When they first met, they were so blissfully young and spent so much time together; a passerby would believe them to be siblings. He was a cherubic, rosy-cheeked child with a mop of dark hair always smashed under a cap. She was a skinny child, skin slightly warmed by the sun, brown hair constantly streaming behind her, as she was constantly running around. They both had lived in Montfermeil at the time – we believe Montparnasse's parents could have originated there – she at her father's inn, and he on the streets. They had absolutely no worries, day after day being filled with shrill cries of excitement, laughter, and high-pitched squeals. Any problem which arose between them was easily solved by an instant wrestling match; a bop on the head, a pinch – the two would fall to the ground and fight it out.
On a particularly sunny fall day, they decided to go on a rumpus around the outskirts of town. At the time, he was roughly six summers; she four. Who watched these children? Why no one. Time spent on making money was much more effective than time wasted on observing children act out their daydreams. They could walk and talk anyway, so they could take care of themselves.
Montparnasse had picked up a dead branch early on in their adventure, and was now using it to hit the back of Éponine's calves. Each time she was whacked, she would hurry up her gait, but eventually slow again after a few seconds. This created a strange pace as they moved through the towering blades of grass. The boy was amused, seeing as he had discovered a way to control his friend. He began to hit her with more and more vigor.
Finally Éponine stopped, turning around with her arms outstretched.
"I'm not movin' until you cut that out," she growled, mimicking the same phrase her mother used on her.
Montparnasse hit her with the stick again. "Yeah, well what're you gonna do 'bout it, squirt?" He approached her until they were less than a few inches apart. Standing on tip-toe so that he would tower over her, Montparnasse smirked at Éponine.
Éponine grabbed the other end of the stick and snapped it off.
"That's stupid," Montparnasse observed in the obnoxious manner of a child.
Éponine flung her piece, hitting him in the face and neck. "You're stupid," she chided.
Montparnasse now had a trail of dirt down his face, and a few fragments of bark stuck to his neck. He was oblivious to them, delicate eyebrows furrowing; he threw down his stick. He was obviously quite angry with his friend. He even stepped on the stick, cracking it to emphasize his attitude. They both realized where this was headed. The two children stared at one another as if they were adults angry about a monetary discrepancy. Because their game was just that serious.
Éponine screamed as she ran wildly through the field, Montparnasse chasing after her. They ran until he caught her at last, which was fairly quickly. He collided with her, their small limbs tangled in a pile.
"'Parnasse," Éponine whined, "get off – you're too heavy!"
Montparnasse, in childish innocence, crushed her even more. "Why should I? You broke my sword. And you're comfy." But then he frowned, face entirely blank. "I should hit you even more for that."
Éponine wiggled, trying to get away. "Ew, and you're all dirty…get off!"
But then he laughed, rubbing his sweaty head against her arm. "'Ponine, you're such a baby! I don' even know why I hang 'round you."
She yelped at the attack, "Get off! No! 'Parnasse please stop!"
A toothy grin lit up his face as he looked down at her, all the simplest childhood thoughts reflected in his eyes. He rolled off of her and into the tall grass, nearly disappearing. "You're a good friend, 'Ponine," he mused, folding his arms under his head. Montparnasse sniffed a few times, before zealously trying to wipe his dirty face on his sleeve.
"I know that already," she snapped.
He sighed, gazing up into the clear sky. "Do you think we'll be friends for a long time? I think I'd like to be friends for that long." He nodded dramatically, head stirring the grass.
"That's all good, 'Parnasse," Éponine said quickly; she seemed uninterested. "But, I don' think - ah! Crap - snake!"
Montparnasse sat back up and peered over at her, pushing the grass aside like two curtains. Twisted around his friend's ankle was a thin, shiny but chocolate colored snake. Éponine was sitting up as well, her leg extended in a silly fashion.
"Get it off," she cried, face scrunching up in disgust.
He stood in front of her, hands open, unsure and actually quite nervous about grabbing the reptile. The snake hissed; tongue poking out every so often, but showing no sign of leaving Éponine's leg. Montparnasse fixed his cap anxiously, eyes unblinking and focused on the rope-like creature which was slowly slithering higher.
"Hurry up! 'Parnasse!" She demanded, squealing each time the snake crept closer.
Closing his eyes tight, he quickly reached forward, grasping the snake roughly and yanking it off. He opened his eyes. The snake was no longer on Éponine's leg, since he was now clutching the oily reptile. He screamed and hurled it, so that it went plummeting into the grass a few feet away with a swish. He stared in the direction the snake had gone, heart pounding in his small chest. Éponine burst out laughing, her merriment slicing through the silence.
"What?"
Éponine was holding onto her stomach, trembling from her own laughter. She managed to croak between giggles and gasps for air, "You scream just like a little girl! I don' think even 'Zelma screams like that!"
Montparnasse flushed, alabaster skin taking on a light shade of pink. "I do not." He crossed his arms, trying to show he was rather serious. "Stop laughing. I saved you from that snake. You should be grateful." He puffed out his chest like a puny rooster.
Éponine continued, getting to her feet unsteadily. Her small face had become flushed as well, although not from embarrassment. She yawned, rubbing her eyes as her laughter began to quiet.
Montparnasse suddenly grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her face before biting her.
The two returned to the inn around dusk, Éponine puffy eyed, sporting red and irritated teeth marks on her cheek. Montparnasse lagged behind, his hands shoved in his pockets indifferently. As the inn came into sight, Éponine took off, running furiously. She was such a tattle-tale. It was not as if the mark on her face were obvious or anything. Plus this was not the first time they had an accident like this. Montparnasse hurried after her, grabbing onto her shoulder and yanking her back.
"Don' you dare tell on me," he threatened.
Éponine peeled his fingers off. "Leave me alone!"
Montparnasse clasped his chubby hands together, dropping to his knees in the dirt. If he was not going to get her to cooperate through threats, he would have to try another approach. "Oh please 'Ponine, don' tell on me!" He gazed up at her, already a professional at the puppy-eyed look; he had been in trouble so many times, he had had enough practice.
Éponine was feeling her cheek and the tiny indentions his teeth had made. She sighed loudly, "Fine." She did not want to be a tattle-tale, especially to her older friend. She thought him to be so cool, and wanted to be just like him, although he was always being mean. They played and had fun, but Éponine knew Montparnsse definitely had more fun than she. His fun included picking on her. "But," she continued sneakily.
He looked up, fearful. "What?"
She smiled. She would have her fun. "You need to give me money."
"What?" He stood. The squirt was blackmailing him.
Éponine held her palm out. "You 'eard me. Give me what you got."
Montparnasse glared at her; he slowly dug in his pocket. He nearly threw the coins and ragged lint ball at her. "Here. Now I don' wanna hear you tattle-tale-ing, understand?"
Éponine put the money away and pasted the lint back on his shirt. She was smiling brightly, the teeth marks still extremely visible. Montparnasse was disturbed by this, and frowned, shaking his head at her until her smile faded. He flung the lint off his shirt and into the wind.
"So what're we gonna tell your folks?"
Éponine shrugged, suddenly worried. "What're we gonna do 'Parnasse?"
Montparnasse snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. He replied casually, "We'll tell 'em a stranger did that to you."
The girl nodded, feeling as if her friend were a genius at that moment. "Yeah, we'll tell 'em we were just walkin' and then someone did this to me," she responded enthusiastically. But then she took on a puzzled look. "Do you think they'll buy it?"
Montparnasse turned her around, pat her on the head, then pushed her in the direction of the inn. "Of course. Now why don' you go an' tell 'em that. I'll wait here."
"Okay." Éponine complied happily, entirely clueless to the whole slew of questions which would come from such a foolish explanation. Finally, she felt as if she were on Montparnasse's level, and that they were getting along after their little incident. She did not want him to be callous towards her because she just wanted to be his friend. Of course, Éponine would never admit this to him, because then she would seem even more like a baby.
The boy chuckled to himself as he watched her go, glad he did not have to answer for his wrongdoing. Éponine was really nice in that sense - she listened to whatever nonsense he thought of. But then his mind went onto more serious matters - was she coming back? Were the Thénardier going to ask him if he would like to stay for supper? Was it possible to get his money back? And maybe a new stick as awesome as the last one? He sighed. He had way too much stress to deal with.