A/N: Here's chapter four! Longest one so far! And they will only keep getting longer! I am happy to say that someone you all know very well shows his face in this chapter. He made a brief appearance in chapter three, but it was all too brief in my opinion. Anyways, please enjoy!
Chapter – 4
From One Fugitive to Another
"You did a good job, Emmanuel," Quasimodo's soft voice gushed as he polished the now silent bell, the only sign of her previous singing being the faint echo that still resonated through the dusty air.
The bellringer's arms ached slightly, as they always did at the end of a full day if pulling that rope and letting the bells sing their songs to Paris; but Quasimodo loved the feeling. To know that his strength was used for such a grand cause filled him with a rare joy.
Once he finished cleaning his iron beauty, he smiled at her before taking the rag in one hand and full out dropping off the rafter he was standing on. In rush of calculated speed, his free hand reached out as he fell and grasped on to the next rafter below him. Quasimodo dangled there for a moment before dropping again, landing firmly on his feet. It always gave him such a thrill whenever he performed such complex acrobatic moves.
With limited access to the world around him, the bellringer made it his job to know the world of his stone domain and how to get himself into every nook, alcove, and height of it. His unfortunate, crooked shape made maneuvering through such a place easier for it seemed almost as if it was made to live where it did. It was as if Quasimodo had unknowingly and unintentionally adapted to his environment to be one and live in harmony with it.
He limped awkwardly toward the nearest parapet, finding it to be his favorite time of the cycling day. It was almost sunset and it was there in which he could watch over the city below him and marvel at the beautiful winding colors of the sun sinking. It was beneath him that men made their way home after a tiring day of work, where the glorious smell of bread and stew being cooked filled the air and summoned children inside for dinner, where a woman and man would stroll together hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings and light secrets to each other. Quasimodo saw it all and more.
He knew each and every one of them, every single face imprinted in his mind. Each face painted on a wooden figurine residing in his miniature masterpiece of Notre Dame square. He couldn't really ever explain why he had decided to make such a thing to be perfectly honest.
Perhaps simply because it gave him something to do. But in truth, since he could not walk among them, he did the next best thing by creating them all in his own fantasy world where he not only knew them, but they knew him as well. They knew him, how he looked and they did not care. But, Quasimodo knew he was just wishing for something that would never be. His Master had crushed that hope before it could ever fully develop into a dream.
His vibrant blue-green eyes explored over the city, not stopping or focusing on anything specific. It was interesting to him how everyone below seemed to have such a routine. He always saw them doing the same things at the exact same time of day. While he was not one to talk about boredom, he could not help but wonder how they always managed have such repetition each day when they had such a wide world and endless possibilities to take in.
Even with his limited space, Quasimodo always tried to make the best of his time on earth and never lived the same day twice. He tried often to climb a different route up to the bell ringing platform or when he was going to the top of one of the towers. He would imagine different fascinating conversation with all of his gargoyle companions and names for each of them. The bells all had personalities, names and secrets as he did. And, he never left his Notre Dame square replica set up the same way twice. His figurines were constantly in different positions. There was only ever one thing that remained the same there, and that was his own little figurine, stooped and distorted just as he, which stayed aloft in the Notre Dame cathedral, watching over all before him like some crooked angel.
Quasimodo was distracted from his mind the moment his eyes rested on something, or rather someone, that did not look like they belonged there. While everyone seemed to be in almost a certain repetitive rush as they moved about the square, this individual in particular was moving a part from them all, her pace slow and even. Quasimodo narrowed his eyes further; she was reading!
Intrigued, he leaped over the parapet and grasped on to a gargoyle a few yards below with his feet pressed firmly against the wall. He leaned further out over the square to get a closer look. It was a woman, he could tell that much from where he was, but he still needed to get closer. This was someone he had never seen before in the town he practically memorized and thus his interest had been captured. It was still a while before he had to ring the vespers, he didn't see anything wrong with getting a closer look, as long as he remained out of sight.
Letting go of his hold on the gargoyle, Quasimodo fell several more yards before grasping his powerful hands onto another stone platform. He was only fifty feet or so from the ground beneath him. Now, there was no way that he would go any further, but it at least allowed him to see this new stranger more clearly.
Her face was still partially hidden from him, but he could see enough. Her slender, elegant frame maneuvered easily around the madness of the citizens of Paris, even though her eyes were glued to her book. With the many noises and all that was going on, not once did she look up. He found this utterly fascinating. Quasimodo was aware of the lack of reading in Paris, him being one of the few in which who actually could thanks to his master and his teachings. Never had he seen such focus, such concentration. Oh how he wished he were closer to be able to study her face better. However, Quasimodo knew very well his boundaries and that Frollo would be absolutely furious if he were to defy his order of staying hidden in his tower. The boy had learned very quickly to never break any of his master's rules. And, he did not plan on doing so now… he just wished to be closer.
Not to mention, the shy bellringer would be totally mortified if she were to see him. He wouldn't even know what to say, what to do… Yes, it was certainly best to remain where he was no matter how much his secret yearnings told him otherwise.
Quasimodo followed her with his eyes as she sat at a stone bench off to the side of the square. He couldn't help but wonder where she came from and why she was here of all places, but he just ignored the thoughts knowing that he would never receive an answer. Instead, he was content to simply study her whilst remaining hiding in the shadows of the statues and stone of his beloved home and nest.
She had been so enthralled in her book and the lovely atmosphere that was Notre Dame square that Belle hardly noticed the time falling away along with the sinking sun. It was only when she found herself having to squint to be able to read the words on her page that she realized that it was almost dark.
Oops! She had promised her father she would be home before dark! Belle pushed a stray strand of hair that constantly got in her face back and placed her book in her basket. Well, it appeared it was time for her to head back. The girl stood from her bench and peered up at Notre Dame for a moment, simply admiring its unusual yet overwhelmingly beautiful structure. There was something sinister and eerie, yet marvelous and holy about the place and if it weren't for the fact that she had to get home, Belle knew she would have gone to explore and look around.
The evening mass was about to end soon and thus the bells would ring once more. A big part of her really wanted to linger a moment longer to be able to hear them, but she knew that she ought to be getting along considering she knew her father and that he would be terribly worried if she kept him waiting too long, especially since this was a new place.
And so, she was off, sparing Notre Dame once last longing glance. Just as she was about to turn away, she froze for a moment, her eyes catching something (or someone) that did not seem as if it belonged on the tower. Narrowing her eyes, she realized that whatever it was was no longer there and therefore probably a trick of the light. It was strange; it almost had looked as if some sort of person were there. However, Belle knew that a human being climbing around on such a tall building was absurd and that even she was ridiculous for thinking as such. Shaking her head, Belle reluctantly turned from the cathedral and started heading back towards the crowded mass of cottages and people around her.
Almost the instant she was under the shadows of the crowd, she felt several pairs of eyes following her. Whether if it was for her appearance or for the fact that she had been so enthralled in her book earlier, Belle was not sure and did not care to dwell on it and so she sped up her pace slightly.
It just didn't make sense to her how they could be so skeptic towards those who were different. Belle wasn't planning on changing anything about herself though, so either they got used to it or they didn't. It wasn't up to her to change their opinions; it was only up to her to be herself.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a guard not too far away look rather fiercely at her. Belle subconsciously pulled that strand of hair from her face again and turned away. If she remembered correctly then that was the same guard that had been so accusing to her earlier when she and her father were only trying to gain access to the entrance, anything from him would most certainly not be enjoyed.
As she continued on, she did not see the guard gesture to a few others before hopping on to his horse. It was only when she heard thundering hoof beats behind her that she finally turned around again.
Her hazel eyes widened in surprise and she froze up for a moment, not at all sure of what was going on or what was about to happen. They all reached her within a few seconds and the guards pulled their horses to a stop.
The guard she recognized gestured for two others to dismount and she could only back up a few steps.
"Excuse me, is there a problem?" she asked, her voice a lot stronger sounding than she was currently feeling at the moment.
"No Mademoiselle, no problem at all," the guard said smugly. Belle could only glare up at him, not at all amused by his rude behavior. Suddenly, one of the other guards roughly grabbed on to her wrist. She automatically attempted to jerk her hand away, but found that to be near impossible with his strength.
"What are you doing? I've done nothing wrong," she gasped, still trying to pull away from him. Belle was completely bemused and very well close to panicking which was unlike her normal calm state. "Let go of me!"
"We're not permitted to answer questions from prisoners," the man that held her sneered, finding her attempts only too amusing. She reminded him of a trapped humming bird. A spirited one she was indeed.
"Prisoner? What have I done exactly?" Belle asked, trying to keep her voice even and not betray the flaming outrage and fear that was currently inside her causing her heart to pound.
Again, the guards refused to say anything and Belle could only once more attempt to remove herself from his grasp with poor results.
Oh this was not good in the least. Belle looked around frantically for help, for something and yet no one was there. All had either gone inside or were just ignoring the situation completely. Wordlessly, the guard began to tug her along and Belle flinched, yet again trying to pull away.
In desperation, her body seemed to act on its own as her right leg suddenly flew out from under her and struck the guard in the groin. Now, it wasn't nearly as painful as it would have been if he weren't wearing armor, but it caused him enough surprise and discomfort that he momentarily loosened his hold on her. Once her arms were free, she fleetingly whacked him upside the head with her book. That was all Belle needed to be able to tear herself from his grasp completely.
Without pausing to even think about what it was she had just done, Belle ran.
"After her!"
Just as she rounded the corner of the bakery, Belle heard the whinnying of horses and knew that they were hot on her trial. The girl had no idea where to go and looked around frantically for a place to hide or go. This was absolutely ridiculous! She hadn't done anything… What on earth did they think they were doing, arresting innocent people like this? That was far beyond rude, it was almost monstrous.
Suddenly, a voice sounded off to the left of her.
"Chérie, over here."
Belle whipped her head around and her eyes widened at the sight of the same gypsy man she had seen from earlier standing next to what appeared to be a secret door in the wall behind him. Without pausing for consideration, Belle fled towards him and into the door just as the guards rounded the corner. Almost as soon as she was inside, the door was closed behind her. For a moment, Belle wondered if her choice to go towards the gypsy was just as bad as staying where she was and getting caught.
But, the moment she looked up and saw the kindness yet mischievousness in the gypsy's face, she knew that all was well.
"Those buffoons never take a hint, I'm afraid," he said, peering through the small crack that the door made to see if the guards were still looking for her. The man then turned to her and performed some kind of bow with his hat before placing it back on to his head. "Clopin Trouillefou at your service."
Now that she was standing still and the adrenaline of frantically running from pursuers was gone, Belle found herself panting heavily while staring in fascination at the man, Clopin Trouillefou. She leaned against the wall for a moment and said nothing at first, still trying to catch her breath.
"Th-thank you, my name i-is Belle," she finally managed to stammer, clutching at her chest. She was still so very confused as to what in the world had happened and how she had ended up in this state, but at the moment she was just thankful to be safe and hidden from those… fiends.
"From one fugitive to another, a thanks is not needed, Belle. We are all brothers and sisters of the streets and we help each other out if we can," Clopin said in a very matter-of-fact tone.
Belle just looked up at him in confusion. A fugitive?
"But, I'm not- I'm not a fugi-"
"And what do you call what just happened then, chérie? A tea party? I'm afraid I saw no crumpets; or more importantly, any tea," the gypsy cut off smartly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
She continued to simply stare, not entirely grasping the concept of where she was or why she had been driven to such measures to end up here.
"I don't understand, I haven't done anything… my Papa and I just arrived today. There hasn't been time for me to be able to even consider breaking the law…" she said. If there was one thing Belle hated more than anything, it was not understanding or knowing something when it felt like she should. It made her feel very frustrated and lost – two bad combinations in her opinion. Hopefully this Clopin would have some answers for her.
"Oui, you don't have to do anything to rouse the wrath of Frollo and his puppets. Just looking at the crétin would be enough to earn you a lovely stay at the Palace of Justice," Clopin explained, bitterness in his voice. It was strange to hear such a thing come from someone who seemed so merry before. Was it all a façade?
Belle still was overwhelmed by all this information she was receiving and hardly knew what to make of any of it. Frollo? Palace of Justice? What did it all mean? However, if there was one thing that she surely was, it was intelligent. As she processed all of this based on what Clopin had said, she came to the realization that whoever this 'Frollo' person was seemed to be in charge since it sounded like he had 'puppets'. By puppets, he must have meant the guards. Was it this Frollo who had ordered her arrest?
If that was the case, then what in the name of all things good had she done? Was it that she was reading? Endless questions were filling her mind but while Belle usually loved her curiosity and yearning for knowledge, this was not something she was particularly enjoying. Even when she was figuring answers out, there were new questions just behind them. It seemed as if this gypsy was the only one who could provide her with anything that might possibly make things more clear.
As she looked around where she was, a new question filled her mind. It might be a good idea to figure out where in God's name she was. Her eyes landed back on Clopin.
"Where am I exactly?"
"Why if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret hiding place would it?" he replied back in that same mischievous yet playful tone he had been using before.
Belle tried not to scowl at him for his response and instead remained quiet and patiently hoped he would provide her a more elaborate answer.
"You are in one of the many passages we use to play cat and mouse with all the pleasant guard folk," he explained.
Her eyes widened in understanding then. Perhaps that was why so many people accused them of witchcraft. Because they unexplainably disappeared all the time. The gypsies weren't dangerous, just simply masters of illusions. There was yet another question in the back of her mind though and seeing as how this Clopin seemed willing enough, she figured she might as well go ahead and voice that one as well.
"Why did you help me?" she asked. He had said something earlier about 'brothers and sisters of the streets', but how did that apply to her? She certainly wasn't a gypsy…
Clopin just looked at her and chuckled, uncrossing his arms.
"Why wouldn't I help you?" he asked, turning the question on her.
Belle found herself lost for words yet again that day and instead regarded the strange man carefully, very much mystified by him.
"Thank you," she finally said after a while. Oh she knew that gypsies weren't evil! She couldn't believe that people believed otherwise. This man had saved her and for no reason at all. Perhaps not all gypsies were this way, but even so- not all were bad either.
Clopin's smile widened slightly.
"What did I tell you before?" he asked in response to her thanks.
The girl paused for a moment a bit confused, and then a small smile hit her face.
"From one fugitive to another," she said, accepting the fact that she was now outside the law.
Suddenly, a small hand puppet strangely resembling the gypsy only it was wearing a mask appeared on Clopin's right hand.
"Very good, chérie!" it exclaimed in a piercing, high voice, Clopin's mouth not moving at all. Belle let out a surprised laugh and looked at the strange thing.
Clopin scowled at the puppet.
"Now now now, what have I told you about interrupting important conversations?" he scolded, shaking the finger of his other hand at the puppet.
The thing drooped its head
Belle laughed again, enjoying the strange show she was receiving.
Clopin and his puppet proceeded to have a rather heated argument on manners for a few minutes while an amused Belle watched on. It was only when Clopin whacked the poor thing with his own hat that the conversation was ended.
"Terribly sorry about that. The silly boy doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut," he said once the puppet was put away and his hat was placed properly back on his head.
"That's all right, it was nice to meet him," she replied, just going along with it. She had a feeling that that was what he would have wanted.
Clopin laughed at this before looking at her again. It was then that he spotted the book in the basket she still had around her arm. Miraculously, Belle had managed to hold to her book after the unfortunate event with the guards.
Before Belle knew what he was doing, Clopin reached out and pulled her book from the basket. She made a move to stop him, feeling a strange protectiveness over her cherished books, but instead forced herself to remain still.
"You read," he stated, flipping through the pages. Belle could tell from the way his eyes held little focus as he investigated that he couldn't read the words. Oh, was he just another one of those judgmental villagers? For some reason…Belle didn't think so.
"Yes," she said without hesitation, looking at him carefully to see how he would react to such information.
Clopin continued to flip through the book, it having caught his interest. Belle figured that gypsies would not know much of books having to live on the streets. Not to mention that if there were people like this 'Frollo' in charge, then books would certainly be restricted from them.
After another moment, he tossed it back to her, forcing the girl to frantically reach out and try to catch it before it hit the ground. That finally earned a scowl from her and Clopin just shrugged.
"Well, it made a good weapon," he remarked in reference to how she was able to get away from the guards.
"Books provide an even greater weapon than just something to hit someone with," she said. Clopin raised his eyebrows. "Knowledge," Belle finished.
The smirk that suddenly appeared on his face made her feel less than comfortable.
"Yes, but chérie- the knowledge you need to survive out here you can't find in a book I'm afraid," he said, using the same tone she had had when explaining the use of books.
Belle opened her mouth and then closed it again. This gypsy certainly knew how to win an argument. For someone who didn't read, he was very clever.
Clopin simply laughed again at her silence and shook his head.
"Well, it is here that I must bid you farewell. The gypsies will be needing their king among them again soon," he said importantly. The surprised look that suddenly appeared on her face after he referred to himself as king was priceless and he couldn't help the chuckle that left him after that.
A king? The king of the gypsies? Things were starting to come together now with how street smart he was and his knowledge of the many winding passageways and secret hiding places around here. Once she got past the whole he-was-king part, Belle realized then that once he was gone she would be alone…
This was normally something that did not bother her, but considering she was now a… fugitive, there were people after her for reasons she still did not know.
"What should I do?" she asked in not a helpless tone, but rather a determined one- a tone that clearly stated that she was not going to just sit here and hide for forever.
Clopin seemed to pick up on that and it was easy to say he admired her for it. This woman was almost as bold as a gypsy; not something he ever saw in the regular peasants.
"Stay here until night fall. A majority of the guards are on the south side of Paris then. You will have a better chance of sneaking past the few remaining to where you need to go," he said.
Belle nodded her head.
"All right," she stated a lot more confidentially than she felt.
The Gypsy King nodded at her once.
"Very well. Adieu, chérie. And good luck to you," Clopin said. Just then his eyes focused on something behind her. Concerned, Belle turned around. When it was clear that nothing was there, she turned back.
Without even making a sound, Clopin had gone, not even leaving a shadow in his wake.
A/N: Oh how I love Monsieur le Gypsy King... as I'm sure we all do. I hope you liked this chapter and I hope I did his character justice. Don't worry, Belle and Quasi will surely meet next chapter, I promise! I am sorry it's taking so long, I just think it's very important to set the stage and I don't want to rush anything. If there is one thing I can't stand, it's rushed stories and plots.
Please review, you have no idea how much that helps and encourages me to keep going. The more I know you all enjoy reading this, the more I enjoy writing it! Until next update!