Quasimodo rang Notre Dame's giant bells with his powerful arms, soaring from one rope to another with the grace, speed and agility of a fly or cat.
The boy brought the entire Cathedral to life, turning it into a vast symphony in stone.
He loved the feeling of weightlessness and freedom that ringing the bells never failed to bring him. In exchange for the strength he put into pulling each rope, the bells instilled in him a much greater strength, a feeling that he can do anything.
The bells had always been good to him, and being left with weak hearing was a small price to pay for the joy each of his many musical friends gave him. He even lovingly gave them all their own names.
He couldn't remember how long it was that he had been the bell ringer of Notre Dame. He knew he must have been young when he was appointed the position, as it seems that was always who he was.
In the many times his strength and skill was needed to ring the bells through the years, he never missed one. Be it for or celebrations and feasts, of which there were many in Paris. For Christmas, Easter, for christenings, confirmations and baptisms, and for every Sunday worship, he never failed to ring them.
He will always be grateful for this job, for the sad fact is, this is his one and only time when he can be allowed to experience life outside the house.
The young man's gratitude towards his protector was undying, for he recognised the inconvenience the boy must have brought when he first took him in 17 years earlier. Quasimodo trusted his decision to protect his ugliness and monstrosity from the world as much as possible with profound and complete faith.
He has not once in his life disobeyed or questioned his guardian. Indeed, this was partly out of fear of him. The faint cuts and bruises permanently decorating parts of his body are a reminder of what would happen were he to make him angry. Yet the boy never hated his guardian for his harsh treatment; it's difficult to judge cruelty when you've never known kindness.
Quasimodo had long ago accepted his limited life. But a life of almost complete imprisonment was still difficult for the hunchback, who secretly wished more than anything he could see more of the world beyond the few short streets that stretched between the house and the Cathedral.
This small scratch of the world was all he knew, and, as he begrudgingly affirmed to himself many times through his years, was all he will ever know.
The hunchback had been ringing for several minutes when he could just about make out through the wide gaps in the tower's slates the growing sight of crowds arriving at the Cathedral for the Sunday mass.
He smiled to himself. He looked forward to the sight every time, pleased that he could do his part for the church.
Once the bell ringer could notice the large crowd of parishioners outside the Cathedral eventually disappearing inside, he made the last few pulls, letting his friends ring their final cadence for the morning.
Heart beating fast and sweat forming on his temples, Quasimodo expertly navigated along the beams and high landings of the tower and dropped gracefully onto the hard floor far below.
He glanced upwards, admiring the many bells still swaying and singing their song as orchestrated by their skilled maestro.
Quasimodo was finishing his habitual cleaning of the tower of any bird feathers and mess when his weak ears picked up the faint sound of the worship coming from the Cathedral's nave. This was a routine sound for him but he always loved to listen to it every time. It sounded so beautiful, almost heavenly, to him. And this week's melodies sounded particularly wonderful.
He had to listen closer.
Running a bulky arm over his forehead to wipe off the sweat, Quasimodo made his way down the ladder that stretched from the bell tower to the lower landing, and limped down the narrow staircase which he guessed took him to the Cathedral's balconies.
His heart was racing; he had never been in this part of the Cathedral before, and was dreading the possibility that he could get caught any moment. But the angelic sound of the worshippers' voices married beautifully with the choir's own vocals quickly banished any remaining thought of returning to the safety of the tower.
Certain that he was in the shadows, he leaned against the balcony, peering over, and listened intently.
The last hymn had eventually been sung and Quasimodo, delighted to be able to have enjoyed this first-hand, felt calm and content.
This rare blissful moment passed a swift second next, however, when Quasimodo suddenly noticed a young woman glance up at him, as though she somehow knew he was there. Stumbling at first in his haste to hide himself from her prying gaze, he ran with as much speed as his crippled legs could muster, back to the safety of the bell tower.
Quasimodo made it back in a matter of seconds, shaking and breathing fast from both adrenaline and fright, and silently promising never to do something thoughtless like that again.