JMJ
CHAPITRE TROIS
"I knew he wouldn't come unless Gaston was dead …" Timothée hissed in a hollow petrifying tone that was barely recognizable as his voice.
M. Humbert and Claudie both stood up at once and tried to hold him back and calm him down, but the dragon was already taking hold of Timothée. Once the dragon took hold it was ever so much more difficult to get the boy to listen. Yet as the snout of a dragon began to protrude out of the human face, he seemed to be fighting it. The tension in his eyes squeezing shut seemed to prove him successful, but just as LeFou began to feel a little less in danger, he felt a sudden clasp around his ankle like a cracking whip. The half-dragon's eyes flew open and LeFou found himself yanked right under the table by the long and powerful tail.
"Whoa!" screamed LeFou.
"Timothée!" cried Claudie.
The tail whipped LeFou against the floor, and his tongue lolled out from the confusion and the pain. But the dragon did not look done yet as it swung around toward LeFou for a second attack.
"Stop it!" cried Claudie jumping in front of him.
"You'll kill him!" roared M. Humbert. "Is that what you want?"
The transformation which had grown the dragon almost to the ceiling now ceased. There was a pause. Then the boy began to reemerge and the dragon to dissipate. When he was back to normal fear struck his face and he looked down at LeFou.
"Guillaume?" asked Claudie glancing down at LeFou staring up at the ceiling in a haggard sort of manner. "Are you alright?"
Teeth clenched and hair on end, he blinked, but he looked as all right as he could be considering the circumstances.
"You take care of him again, Claudie," said M. Humbert. "I'll take Timothée."
"I'm sorry," said Timothée. "I'm sorry, I—" He pounded the table.
"Don't get angry with yourself!" said M. Humbert. "I order you."
Timothée sighed and allowed his father to take him away.
LeFou remained staring upwards for a few moments more, and then slowly he raised his head to Claudie who was sitting at the table again and staring back at him.
"We told you to keep your mouth shut," said Claudie.
"But he asked!?" cried LeFou, and he climbed back up onto his feet not too much hurt from the experience; though very shaken.
He peered up after where his father and brother disappeared up the stairs cautiously as if he half expected the dragon to sweep back down the steps after him for the kill, but the door closed to M. Humbert's bedroom, and nothing further happened. The clock ticked but otherwise all was silent in the little house.
"Claudie …"
"What?"
He slowly turned back to the kitchen.
"What are we gunna do?" he asked, eyes shifting uneasily.
"Turn him back to normal?"
"How?"
"We don't know yet," said Claudie. "We haven't figured that out."
LeFou rubbed his hands together nervously. "But it's a curse, right? There's always a way to break a curse."
Fumblingly then, he opened a cupboard and closed it again as though still in a state of shock. He opened another and pulled out a wine bottle. With a corkscrew he pulled off the top and turned the bottle to pour its contents into his mouth.
"Oh, no you don't!" Claudie snapped snatching the bottle away after the first gulp. She slammed it on the table.
"But, Claudie!" LeFou whined. "What are we gunna do?"
"Stop asking me that! Not get drunk on expensive wine for one thing! But now you see why we don't have time to baby you? We need your help."
"Well, I don't know what to do! He's my brother! First my best friend gets killed by a cursed beast in a castle, and now my brother's a dragon! What could be worse!?"
He grabbed the bottle again, but before his grip was strong enough Claudie snatched it away a second time.
"That's a terrible habit of yours! Trying to drink as much as Gaston turned you into a hopeless drunkard! It's obscene! And it's not gunna help anything!"
"No one can hold his beer like Gaston," LeFou said with a slight chuckle as he leaned back against the cupboards, and he sighed sadly. "Or at least …"
Claudie put her hand her brother's arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry about Gaston."
"Why?" asked LeFou with a shrug and a wrinkled nose. "You never liked him anyway."
"It wasn't him," retorted Claudie. "I never hated him. What do you think I am? I didn't want him to die, especially not like that! It sounds horrible what's happened." She paused and then asked gently, "Are you alright?"
LeFou shook his head. "No. What are we gunna do?"
"The only thing we can do. Work."
#
It was not considered in anyone best interest that LeFou share a room with Timothée. He slept with his father that night, and most uncomfortably for the bed was very small and both father and son woke each other up with their snoring. But it was far better than risking a dragon's wrath.
The next morning after breakfast Claudie prepared herself and her older brother for a trip to scout out work for him. He complained, certainly, but just the sight of Timothée shut him up again. LeFou had not quite forgotten the evening before just yet. He smiled nervously but said nothing until after Timothée went back up to his room, and it turned out to be a very good thing that he left when he did.
It was just after Timothée disappeared that the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" exclaimed LeFou, and as he stood back to see the figure at the doorstep in full he was rather taken aback at how delicate and lovely the petite woman standing before him was.
She looked like a porcelain figurine from the pastel colors of her hair and clothes, to the soft pale features on her face and tiny hands. She was no Belle, but her beauty was of a different kind.
"Bonjour, monsieur," said the woman looking down at LeFou with some confusion. "Excuse me. Comment vous appelez vous?"
"Oh, Bonjour! I'm LeF—" He cleared his throat sharply and held out his hand, his grin broadening. "Uh — I mean, Guillaume! Timothée's brother!"
"Is Timothée at home?"
"Celeste, right? Enchantée!" He tried to act gentlemanly, and it might have worked if he had not been smiling so goofily, but Celeste did not seem to notice either way as she looked over his head easily into the house in the hope of catching sight of her beloved.
"Yeah, anyway!" said LeFou with a shrug. "Timothée's home, but—"
"He's still ill!" Claudie interrupted. "I—I'm afraid he's not any better. In fact it may be getting a little worse."
She glanced down at LeFou uneasily.
"Then it's all the more reason why I should see him," said Celeste. "My father barely allowed this visit. You know he doesn't quite approve of the marriage anyway, and I …"
She wrung her hands quite distressed.
"I'm sorry, Celeste," said Claudie. "But you just can't. Not right now."
LeFou scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Well, maybe you could—"
"No!" Claudie broke in.
"But maybe the sight of me will cheer him up," urged Celeste. "Please, Claudie."
"Yeah!" LeFou agreed nodding vigorously.
"It's out of the question," Claudie said. "He's in his room, and he can't come down. Please."
Completely distraught the young woman withdrew, but only after making Claudie promise to tell her the moment Timothée could see her. LeFou was surprised to see her get into an elegant carriage which drove her off.
"Whoa," said LeFou, and he turned up to Claudie brightly as they exited the house as well. "That's quite the girl Timothée's got. What a catch! She's rich too, isn't she?"
"Moderately so," said Claudie with a nod.
"Whew!" exclaimed LeFou. "Well, and a rich father too. Huh. Well, I guess that's all the more reason not to let them know what happened to Timothée. I mean if her old man doesn't want her to marry him now, just think how he'd be if—"
"Yes. We have!" Claudie said. "And we don't want to think about it anymore. We're gunna cure him before that happens."
"How's getting a job gunna cure him?"
"We need to eat. We need a house."
"Well, if you ask me, I think there's only one way to cure what's wrong with Timothée."
"What's that?" asked Claudie hesitantly.
"Let him marry the girl. With a girl like Celeste around he'll never get angry again!" exclaimed LeFou stopping in mid step to throw out his arms dramatically.
"Ug!"
"What? I didn't even know Timothée could get that angry like that. The only one who gets angry around here is you." And here LeFou laughed. "Good thing you didn't turn into the dragon otherwise we'd all be dead."
"Oh!" moaned Claudie rubbing her temple. "Could you just grow up?"
"Pfft, I'm older than you."
"Then act like it."
#
There was only one job that fit his qualifications, the qualifications of a town fool that is, and that was a street cleaner, but it was instantly LeFou's thought that if they asked their uncle perhaps he would have an idea for something better as he had for Timothée. If there was anyone the opposite of a fool in the family it was Uncle Jérémie. Thus after the idea came to his mind, LeFou lost no time in making arrangements to visit him. Claudie came as well, and it was that Jérémie had just the sort of job for him.
"Assistant cobbler."
"Cobbler?" asked Claudie.
"Yes," said Jérémie leaning back in his chair in a comfortable office where he worked. "I know a cobbler who has had some trouble keeping help these days. It's what I do, keep track of things, and I can guarantee you, Guillaume, that you would be invaluable to him for your size. You would not need to lean over to help people try on their new shoes."
LeFou made a face. "Shoes?"
"Well, if you'd rather clean up sewer sludge from the street corners …" said Jérémie with a shrug.
"No, but—" moaned LeFou.
"He had a boy," Jérémie went on, "for a while helping him, because only a young man would do for such work, for he is successful even if a bit of a penny pincher. So low wages, I'm afraid, to begin with, but if you prove yourself as a respectable and valuable employee I'm sure you can muster a raise out of him. You have a way of flattering people when you want to even if it's usually unintentional."
"So you'll put in a word for me?" asked Guillaume.
"If you promise to work and make it worth everyone's while," muttered Jérémie lighting a cigar. "Earn your name back, so to speak. 'Guillaume' is too strong a name for a lazy good-for-nothing. I will start calling you 'LeFou' myself if you're not careful around me."
"Oh, I understand, Uncle Jérémie! No sweat!" LeFou said. "There's no way I'm spending my time cleaning up horse poop all day. You won't regret it. You'll see! I'll live up to Guillaume le Conquérant and Guillaume … Aw, y'know! I'll live up to my name!"
"That's the spirit."
"If he'll keep to it," agreed Claudie.
"Well, then you'll just have to make sure he does, Claudie," said Jérémie. "You're good at that." He paused to blow out a puff of smoke. "Timothée's not getting better then? Seeing as you had to kidnap Guillaume?"
"I came home on my own, Uncle Jérémie!" LeFou insisted.
"I meant to bring you here," retorted Jérémie.
"Oh, that … well, I came on my own for that too."
"Whatever happened to that old scoundrel you used to hang around with?" asked Jérémie as though absently, but anyone who knew Jérémie knew that this tone was his cataloguing tone. "Gaston."
LeFou hesitated twiddling animatedly and fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Gaston got killed, uncle," said Claudie.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," said Jérémie.
"He made up for himself," said Claudie. "I guess, according to Guillaume."
"He saved the village!" LeFou exclaimed climbing upright in his chair and leaning over the desk.
"The mythical monster from the wood?" muttered Jérémie. "There had to have been some truth to it."
"Oh, there was!" cried LeFou. "It was living in the prince's castle and it was huge and the castle was—"
Claudie made a slicing motion for him to stop.
"And Gaston, uh, killed him there," said LeFou seating himself and looking rather gloomy.
"He was the one who was rumored to have been killed at the castle then?" said Jérémie. "I didn't know he had that kind of courage, honestly." He shook his head sadly. "Quite a tragedy."
When Claudie and LeFou departed Claudie reminded him, "Uncle Jérémie is a realist. He won't believe in cursed castles."
"Or dragons either," shrugged LeFou. "I 'spose that's why you never told him earlier. Too bad! He probably would know exactly how to cure Timothée."
