Chapter – 10
Bells and Roses
"I don't know how it happened… it just did," Quasimodo whispered to his gargoyle companion, explaining all that had occurred within the past week. It was about midmorning and Belle was below him somewhere. With his new found alone time, the hunchback decided to speak with his old friends, considering it had been a while sense he had done so and he was certain they were interested to learn more about the change of situations.
Oh he knew that the gargoyles saw everything. But, they were his friends and of course they would want to know his own thoughts on the events. And, he really needed to speak with someone about what it was that he had been feeling. It was unnatural and like nothing he had ever known. And, definitely not something he could talk to Master about… and surely not Belle being as how she was the reason for such feelings. The only option he had was with his dear old friends that he had grown up with behind these stone walls.
"When I saw her in trouble, I had to do something about it. There was nothing that could stop me… and now she's here. Now… now she's seen me," he turned to face his hideous, grimacing friend, "She's seen me and she is unafraid." Even three days after that event, it was still almost impossible for Quasimodo to believe that it had really happened, that she had looked upon his face, his sin and smiled at him – touched him. Not only had she not cringed away, but she had touched him… laid her hand upon his cheek, wrapped her arms around his neck, and laced her fingers with his own.
Such things… such wonderful things – he had never imagined them happening to him. They were simple gestures of course… when she had wanted him to look at her, she had lifted his face, when she had needed support, she had clutched his neck, and when she was moved… she had touched his hand. Simple, meaningless gestures in the eyes of a normal man – but they were everything in the eyes of the down-trodden bellringer.
Quasimodo had never imagined there to be anything softer than her hands. And yet he felt it sin just to think about.
Despite that, being with her brought him great happiness. This happiness was something very new to his normally cold and dark tower, yet somehow it fit in quite nicely. Just thinking about her now caused him to yearn for her company, to hear more of her life before she came here, to tease her, and to speak of things he had only dared once dream of only to himself. To have someone to share with such dreams of adventure, of something more… it brought warm feelings to his heart. And, he didn't feel so alone. He wasn't the only one who wished for such things.
And most of all… when he was near her, his face just did not seem important anymore. When she looked at him, she saw his eyes; it was almost as if his imperfections were not there. Almost. It was still a barrier, but almost.
Normally he let her approach him when she was ready to see him rather than he go to her.
Even though by some miracle it appeared as if his face did not frighten her, Quasimodo was well aware of how fine a line it could be and he did not want to chance startling Belle in anyway…
To know that such kindness could be directed towards him, that he deserved it… it was almost too much for him to grasp the full understanding of. Quasimodo was not a boy who could express himself openly very well. And, so he showed his gratitude to Belle in silent gestures.
These past three days, every morning before she awoke, he would leave a single white rose on the bedside table, next to her book and candle. The roses were easy enough to get a hold of; there were abundant bouquets of them, and lilies as well, below that adorned the actual sanctuary. Each day a fresh set was brought in from the flower garden behind the cathedral.
He was certain that she enjoyed his little gifts for this morning when he had left her one, he saw where she had started placing them all together in a small, cracked pot in the far corner. She spoke nothing of them, but he had a feeling that her appreciation was as silent as his gratitude.
"I really am sorry I have not spoken with you in a while," he tagged on as an afterthought to his frozen, stone companions, "that isn't fair to you. You were my friends first and I apologize." It was just hard to be swayed by much when it came to his new found friend. He could sense that the gargoyles understood this. They were only made out of stone… as Master had said, but Quasimodo knew they were so much more than that. After all, he was only made out of disproportions and hideousness, but Belle saw so much more than that. The gargoyles had seen many things long before even Master was born. What they saw, he would never know… it was only their secret. To have friends so wise, so timeless – it was an honor.
Even now, Quasimodo sensed his friends urging him to speak with Belle. Perhaps even though they were real to him, there was something in the far corner of his mind that told him that the living girl below him was better suited company.
"I should go to her this time? B-but what would I say? W-what if I startle her?" he asked, so unsure, so nervous. She had always come to him, and thus had time to prepare herself for when she had to look upon his face. If he were to just… come out of nowhere, oh it hurt him to think of the possible fright it could cause her. The thought of scaring others with his face had never bothered him too much, it was just how things were… but the thought of scaring her- it caused him pain, it clutched at his heart.
Yet as Quasimodo thought on it, he realized that chance had been what had gotten him here to this point; and perhaps it would be chance that would work in his favor yet again. He had chanced going into the outside world to save her, he had chanced speaking to her, getting to know her, and he had chanced showing her his face. All had worked out well in the end and so perhaps now would be no different.
With a confidence that he wasn't aware existed, Quasimodo stood from where he was sitting on the platform high above in the belfry and grasped the rope nearest to him. Effortlessly, the hunchback leapt and swung his way down, his rough, calloused hands hardly feeling the burn of the hard rope. The only burning he felt was in his cheeks as he considered the possibilities of what would come out of this.
The minute his feet hit the floor boards, he picked up the sound of gentle humming.
Quasimodo swiveled his head around a few times in an attempt to locate the direction in which the sweet noise was coming from. It took him a little longer than average to pinpoint it due to his poor hearing, but soon enough he began moving towards where he knew Belle to be.
She was out on the parapets, sitting near the edge with her tiny feet hanging over the square, her nose in a book. It appeared as if she was so focused that she wasn't even aware of her own humming.
The song was not one that he knew of, but Quasimodo still enjoyed the pretty and rich sound of her voice. For a moment he wanted to just remain where he stood and continue listening; but that had not been what he came down here for - besides, it reminded him of his own embarrassing encounter when she had overhead him singing not too long ago. Quasimodo hadn't sang since.
Oh...he just knew that if he waited too much longer, he would lose what little nerve he had managed to gather for himself.
"Good morning, Belle," he said, his gentle voice floating from the shadows as he emerged out into the sun.
Belle did not startle, but it was clear from the tensing of her shoulders that she certainly had not expected him to come out and join her.
That did not stop her from placing her book in her lap and turning to face him. Much to his relief there was a smile on her face.
"Bonjour, Quasimodo," she greeted in return, a bit perplexed that he had chosen to approach her this time. That wasn't saying it bothered her – surely not. It was just a change, a change she was glad to see.
He remained at the entrance of the parapet and did not come any closer. Even though it looked all right, he didn't want to push his luck. His eyes fell to the book in her lap and Belle, seeing where his eyes had gone, subconsciously placed her hand on the book's spine.
Quickly, his eyes returned back to hers and he gave a small smile, one of which she returned right away.
"What are you reading?" he found himself asking; he was mainly trying to distract himself from the feeling of his heart seizing whenever she looked at him like that.
Belle lowered her gaze to the book she had placed in her lap and flipped it back over; opening it to the page it was on. She was more than half way finished. But, she had read it several times before – she already knew how it would end.
"Oh it's my favorite. It's a fairy tale about a prince in disguise," she said cheerily.
Quasimodo looked at her in question. A fairy tale?
Seeing his rather perturbed expression, Belle gestured with her hand a simple patting on the ground for him to join her.
Quasimodo paused for a moment before making his way carefully forward and seating himself next to her (with at least a two foot distance in between of course).
Belle carefully handed the book over to him so that he could at least look at some of the pictures, assuming that he wouldn't be able to read the actual text. It wasn't that she though him below her, it was just being educated to read was not a very common thing from what she had observed and she imagined the poor, sheltered bellringer to be no different.
How astonished she was as she watched Quasimodo take the book gingerly in his hand, open it, and focus his eyes. The way those eyes moved back and forth down the page and the way his brow furrowed in steady concentration made it more than apparent that he was reading what was before him. The look he had was very much different than the look the gypsy, Clopin had had when he was looking through the book after he had rescued her from the guards. Belle… couldn't believe it.
"You can… read this?" she asked after a moment.
The hunchback looked up from the page he had been looking over. Uh oh. He couldn't tell from the way her voice sounded if this was a good thing or not.
Not trusting his voice, Quasimodo simply nodded and handed the book back to her.
To his utter relief, Belle's eyes brightened and a smile broke out across her pretty face.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, "You are one of the few people I've met who can! How did you learn?" She couldn't help but ask this, she was very curious to know how Quasimodo in his condition had managed to be educated.
"I-I well, my... master taught me. He t-taught me how to read and write in Latin too and I'm learning more Greek now. He taught me to speak… he's taught me everything I know," Quasimodo said, in saying that last part he found himself once again realizing just how important Master was to him, and even Belle's obvious dislike of him and her points on how he was a bad person could not sway him.
He could not understand why his master taught him all these things as he could never really use them in the real world. He also could not understand his master's dislike of the printing press. With such a machine it would perhaps make reading a more common thing. If Master was so against all of Paris reading… then why bother teaching him? He would like to think that it was because he cared for him, but the hunchback could never be for certain when it came to his master and the motive behind his actions.
Quasimodo was then driven from his own quiet thoughts when he caught sight of Belle's face. She looked… stunned.
"You know three languages," she stated, hardly being able to grasp the belief of such a thing.
"W-well, two and a half...M-master spoke of teaching me Anglais once, b-but we never tried. He's hardly here as it is, so I've g-given up believing that we one day will. It would be a nice language t-to learn – though a very hard one," he went on, not noticing her shock. Speaking so much of his master and all that he had done for him had distracted him greatly. It caused an overwhelming surge of guilt to fill him.
He was defying his master this very moment; hiding and protecting Belle, a wanted fugitive, here in the very church that Master had gone to the trouble of raising him in. His heart, however, was far stronger than his guilt and Quasimodo knew that he would continue what he was doing now – no matter what.
"Quasimodo?"
The bellringer blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head. Quickly he focused on Belle, his face turning red with embarrassment at his sudden, pensive behavior.
"S-sorry…" he apologized with haste, closing the book and handing it back to the woman next to him.
"An apology isn't necessary. You just looked far away – where were you, my friend?" she asked.
"I-I-I was just thinking about my master," he said, hoping that she would not pry; and from what he knew of Belle, she wouldn't if she could tell he didn't want to talk about it.
She said nothing for a moment. Belle could scarcely imagine having to live under someone that seemed so cruel. What did throw her though was how exceedingly intelligent he must be to be able to teach Quasimodo so many things… that he was willing to teach him so much. A man that did that couldn't be all that bad could he? While Belle wished to believe so, she just didn't know. She did not know this 'Master' that Quasimodo kept bringing up at all and so there was no way for her to really grasp who he was as a person. All she knew was what her friend had told her.
Thinking it wise to turn the subject from something that didn't trouble Quasimodo, Belle decided to once again bring up the fact that he knew three languages – well… two and a half (as he had reminded her); he had said that he was in the process of learning Greek.
"I can't imagine what a wide window knowing two other languages must create," she said, the softness returning back to her eyes.
"I can't either," Quasimodo said, a bit sadly.
Belle then realized after he said this that in her time here, she had not seen any books.
"You mean-?"
"There a-are no books here other than the Greek manuscripts and o-of course the Bibles downstairs. I used to have a few of my L-Latin lesson book pages, but they were soon ruined because I read through them so much…" Quasimodo said quickly before Belle could become too shocked. He did not like seeing her that way at all.
"What about story books?" Belle gestured to her own book in her lap, not able to believe that Quasimodo, having the ability to know so much… did not have any other books to expand his horizons – especially with him living all alone up here. He was not aware of his own potential.
"Master never b-brought them for me. He said it was unnecessary for me to fill my head with such, how he put it, 'treacherous nonsense'," he explained. And, it wasn't like he could just stroll down to the library and borrow all the books he pleased. That would only end in disaster in so many ways.
Belle could only frown at this.
"There is nothing treacherous about them," she said in defense of her beloved book, "The stories… they take you far away to a different place, a different time. They take you on quests, adventures… You read about characters, the trials they go through – and they become your friends…" She said this last part almost a little softer than the rest of what she had said.
Those fictional characters had been her only 'friends' for a long time.
Quasimodo tried hard to imagine this, wishing that he too had had that joy that Belle described. It would have made living in solitude all this time even more endurable; he didn't realize just how lonely he had been until Belle. What really stuck out to him though was when she brought up how the characters almost seemed to become her friends. That was not any different than the friendship he had with his gargoyles.
"I-Is that why you love books so much?" he asked after hearing her say all of those wonderful things about reading.
Belle looked at him. How did he know? She had said nothing about her love for books… only the joys of reading…
"Why, yes. How did you know?" she answered, another question quickly behind it. And to think she had been worried about sharing such a thing with him. How silly of her…
"Before I…I brought you here I saw you walking around out there… reading. W-with everything going on, all the people, all the yelling, all the d-distractions, you didn't look up a single time. Th-there was nothing, nothing that could stir you from the world you were in," he said, his voice taking on a lighter tone as he remembered the moment he had first laid his eyes on her. Realizing this, he averted his gaze for a moment whilst fighting the urge to blush. "I-I've never seen anyone concentrate that hard before…" He finished. It was obvious; anyone who put that much attention in their book clearly loved it.
Belle smiled, not really knowing why she had.
"Well, you're right. I love books. I love books more than anything. Aside from my Papa, of course," she said, trying to ignore the bitter sting in heart upon thinking about her dear father, "All my life I've longed for adventure, a chance to go and see the world."
Coming to a topic that she felt so strongly about lead Belle to setting the book on the ground and standing to her feet, leaning further out over the parapet. Quasimodo remained seated, listening intently.
"My situation is not nearly as extreme as yours. But, since I was young, I've wanted so much more than just the quiet life in my sleepy village. Every day is the same. Books… well books help me to escape that. They take me to far off places, places that I've only ever dreamed of going to… And, for just a minute, I am in that world, and I have everything I ever wanted…" Belle said, her voice passionate at first, but it eventually fell away.
As she stood there, gazing off into the clouds, watching birds fly by, she grew strangely sad.
Without a word, she sat back down, placing her elbow on her leg and resting her hand in her palm.
"Now though… now I see that all I ever wanted had been right in front of me the entire time…" she finally said after a while, "and now it's gone." Freedom.
Quasimodo felt distressed the moment he saw her happiness fade. Oh no…
He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words. As much as he wished that she loved staying here… he knew that no matter what, she was trapped and she would always be miserable because of that. She couldn't stay here forever… she wouldn't be able to stand it… While he had only known Belle for about a week, he still knew her well enough to know that she had far too much spirit to be suppressed here. It would… it would crush her.
Out of nowhere, he felt a hand lay over his own. Quasimodo almost jumped, but refrained. Instead, he turned to face Belle, finding her to be looking right at him.
"But I have you now. And this wonderful place… That is something I know I can be thankful for," she said kindly, appreciation in her eyes. Shortly after what she had said about losing her life, she had worried that she had maybe offended Quasimodo and wanted to let him know right away that she was not upset that she was here. It was merely the situation that had her so…bereft.
Where would she be without Quasimodo? Why, in a cell somewhere dark and cold of course. At least she was here. At least she was alive… and at least she had a friend. A real one.
Quasimodo smiled at her words, not daring to move his hand that rested under hers. He did not trust his mouth and so he remained silent. Belle seemed to seek comfort in just him physically being there, and if that was enough for her, then he would remain silent and still until the end of time.
The smile that her hunchbacked friend had given her was contagious and Belle found a genuine smile of her own melting over her face. It was so interesting…in just a single look that he had given her, he had brought her all the comfort she needed and he hadn't said or done anything. He had just listened. Listened and understood.
"You're a good listener…" she finally said after a while, removing her hand from resting over his and placing it back in her lap.
Quasimodo ducked his head meekly at this. Since she had been so open, he figured he may as well share something with her too.
"I've learned from the gargoyles… When I-I need to talk, they listen. Th-they don't say anything. I just talk… A-and it helps," he said, hoping silently that she would not find him ridiculous. His imagination had never seemed strange to him. The way he saw it, speaking with the gargoyles was completely natural, they were his equals and so he treated them as such.
Belle, while finding it unusual, didn't see it as ridiculous at all. It was no different than what she said before about the characters in books becoming her friends. Sure, she didn't actually talk to them, but they were all in her imagination as the gargoyles were in Quasimodo's. Other than her Papa, she did not think she would ever meet someone with as big of an imagination as hers.
"You have a wonderful imagination," she said out loud, wanting Quasimodo to know that she did not find his ways strange at all. It was just like his appearance really, while it was not exactly something she was used to, and a bit unusual, she still accepted it for what it was… and it grew on her with time…
Again, Quasimodo smiled and ducked his head, but he took the compliment.
"Y-you do too. I've never heard b-books being explained that way before," he answered.
"Do you ever consider of one day leaving here and seeing what you can of the world?" she asked all of a sudden, wondering if maybe his thoughts were as 'crazy' as her own.
"Oh yes… if I could. I dream of it all the time…" he answered, a wistful tone taking hold of his voice.
Belle reached out and touched his arm then and he turned to look at her again.
"Then make the dream real," she answered, already knowing what his response would be.
He gave her a sad smile, but said nothing else. They both knew what was stopping him.
"Forget about what you look like for one second, please? You are good, you are kind, you are very intelligent, and you see and understand things better than anyone I've ever known. If I can look past what is right in front me and see that amazing person underneath, others can too," she said, her voice firm and full of reason.
Quasimodo took the hand that was resting on his arm and held it for a moment, looking her in the eye.
"If only that were true," he said, knowing that his circumstances with Belle were special. Everyone else would be just as Master had said they would. Still, her words filled him with a flame of hope that refused to burn out. He let go of her hand.
Belle found herself resisting the urge to shake his shoulders and again repeat all that she had just said. Would he ever see? Would he ever get it? Or had this so called master of his completely distorted his view? There was no point in arguing this with him for now… His eyes had grown sad and she did not want this so far wonderful day turning around…
For a while neither said anything and just sat where they were, watching the activities on the streets below them. Soon enough though, the winds of the conversation before blew over and Belle felt a little lighter. She would change his mind… somehow. She just knew it.
A thought then quite suddenly reached her, and her eyes grew bright at the idea.
"Quasimodo… would you like to read this with me?" she asked, picking up the book that had been resting beside her and holding it out to him.
The hunchback looked up with sincere surprise. That was a question he had not expected to hear from her at all. And, yet he simply couldn't refuse.
"Oh! Well… Y-yes. I-if you don't mind, I mean. I-I-I'd love to. Sure…" he spoke all this quickly while ringing his hands together and avoiding eye contact. Hesitantly, he turned and took the book from her.
Belle just watched him with an amused yet adoring smile on her face.
"Of course I don't mind. I would not have offered if I had. We'll start at chapter one so you can really understand what's going on. It wouldn't bother me to start over anyways," she said, watching as he carefully flipped the book open, handling it as if it would just simply tear to shreds in his hands at any moment.
Nonchalantly, Belle moved closer to him until her side was pressed against his. It was easier to see the book this way, not to mention she didn't mind sharing a little of his warmth – it was occasionally drafty up here.
Quasimodo tried very hard to not make the breath he just hitched in obvious when he quite suddenly felt her presence at his side. Instead, he held the book out a little more so that Belle could see it without having to strain herself.
"I'll read a page, and then you'll read a page, does that sound all right to you?" she asked him, the anticipation clear in her eyes to get started. There was just something about the idea of sharing this moment with Quasimodo that seemed really special and she just couldn't place why. It was something that had to be done.
Quasimodo smiled and nodded his head.
"That sounds perfect," was all he said.
And so, just like that the two began to read. There was no way to tell who enjoyed it more, as one read, the other that listened had the most content of smiles on their faces. It had soon almost gotten to a point where when they were listening to the other read, they were focusing more of the even flow of their voice rather than the words they were actually saying.
As Belle listened to Quasimodo read, she had to resist the urge to close her eyes. He really did have the most soothing, gentle voice. She had never really noticed too much until now. Before, whenever he spoke, she always paid attention to what he was saying, finding it to be important, rather than the way it sounded when he said it.
It was different now though. She had read the story before… but never like this. Since she was a young child, she had never had anyone, save her Papa, read to her before. And, watching Quasimodo read; the way his eyes would twinkle and the corner of his mouth would drift upwards in a smile of pride at how well he was reading – it just made hearing the story all the more special to her.
Whenever he spoke… there was always a little bit of a stammer in his voice – granted, it was fading the more he got comfortable around her – but as he read, there wasn't a stutter of any kind. All he was saying was quite clear…
"Belle…?"
To her horror, she realized she had completely zoned out in listening to him read, her eyes focused not on the page, but on his lips. Belle shook her head and blinked a few times. Now it was her turn to have a red face.
"I'm sorry!" she quickly said, trying to focus now on where they were at, "I was just… very enthralled with the imagery. The way you read – it was so easy to lose contact with reality for a minute there…" Okay so that wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't like she could tell him 'Oh, yes sorry I was just so enchanted by the sound of your voice and the stars in your eyes!' Not only would she be mortified at such a cliché, but she was certain that he would be too. It had not taken her very long at all to figure out how shy Quasimodo was… and still was most of the time.
Even now at her compliment of how well he read he smiled bashfully and closed his eyes.
Belle quickly picked up where Quasimodo left off and she smiled excitedly when she realized it was chapter three.
"Oh! This is one of my favorite parts," she exclaimed, looking from Quasimodo back to the page, "she discovers that it's Prince Charming…"
Quasimodo laughed softly at her own eagerness.
"I wouldn't know," he teased, considering he had not read it yet.
Immediately realizing her error, Belle wanted to slap her forehead. What had gotten into her? She was not acting herself at all! This whole having someone else to share her love of reading with had had her acting all excited and impulsive and it appeared as if there wasn't much she could do about it.
"Again… I apologize. It almost feels like, with how you read, you know the book already…" Shaking her head at herself and avoiding Quasimodo's playful gaze, Belle cleared her throat and began.
Now it was Quasimodo's turn to lose focus. Her behavior had him laughing inside and smiling like a fool. Belle always seemed so mellow and composed. Now, she was almost acting like a child in a bakery full of sweet bread; and he had to say he almost enjoyed the change. She seemed happy, and after hearing earlier how she still felt 'trapped', it was relieving to him that she could feel joy and excitement.
Unlike Belle, who had barely heard what was being read to her, Quasimodo hung off of every word. While still enjoying the smooth, melodic, rise and fall of her voice, he was also captivated by the story. He was beginning to understand now, Belle's strong love for fairy tales. Getting inside someone else's head, seeing things through a different perceptive, it was astounding! Not to mention… it took him away from his bell tower.
Quasimodo just loved how Belle would do the different voices in the dialogue; it put a smile on his face. He tried it too whenever it was his turn, but would just end up making himself laugh at how foolish he sounded. He wasn't as good a story teller as Belle yet, but that didn't matter. They were reading, they were in each other's company, and they were happy.
The sun rose higher and higher over Paris as they continued on, but both were completely lost to time.
They were in their own world, their own fantasy. Best of all though, was that it was a place they were sharing together.
It was only when Belle's stomach gnarled with hunger that she paused in her reading and realized just how much time passed. It was almost late in the afternoon!
Quasimodo soon realized this as well. The bells! Oh! He had masses to ring!
Shortly after Belle had stopped reading, he leapt to his feet, the action a little difficult due to his crooked body. She looked at him in concern.
"I-I-I have to ring the mass!" he said, before wheeling around and scampering off.
Belle watched him go, shaking her head with a fond smile on her face.
Seeing as how he was going to be busy for a little while, Belle slowly stood and, with book in hand, went inside the tower as well.
Setting the book on the bedside table in her room and grabbing an apple out of the basket of food left for them, Belle began to descend the many platforms and ladders.
Sometimes when Quasimodo was kept busy like right now, or when she just wanted a change of scenery, she would go down to the actual cathedral itself and silently attend whatever mass it was that was going on. To all the peasants that came, she didn't look like a wanted fugitive to them; she just looked like one of those who simply chose to stand in the back instead of join them in the pews.
It was always a beautiful service and one she knew Quasimodo would enjoy if he weren't so nervous about coming down. But, it wasn't like she could blame him. And so, alone, she went down the winding stair case that eventually lead her to the grand and fantastic open sanctuary she wished more than anything that she didn't consider her prison.
Quasimodo managed to begin ringing Emmanuel just in time. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Already there were days where he wouldn't ring on every hour, if he started not ringing for masses too, people would surely begin to think something was wrong and question what was going on up there. And with how word traveled through Paris… no doubt it would soon get to Master.
He just couldn't bear the thought of what would come to that. He knew it would have to be faced one day in the future… Master was bound to come back some day and at that point he would have to know what to do about Belle. For some reason… even the thought of the right of Sanctuary did not comfort him.
But, again that was something he and Belle could discuss later. He did not want to worry her…
Instead, Quasimodo found himself thinking once more of their lovely day spent reading that book… Immediately a warm smile came to his face. That had been far from what he was expecting. He couldn't wait to read with her again. It had been a huge insight into her world. And, she had let him in willingly. He didn't even ask… she had invited him.
Again, he found he wanted to do something for her. Share something of his own world.
His eyes locked on to the great, bourdon bell that swayed before him.
That was it! The bells! He'd show her the bells.
His iron ladies…
Quasimodo almost found himself feeling a bit nervous – his bells were the biggest part of him. His closest friends… this was going to be a big step for him.
Soon enough, Emmanuel was quieted and Quasimodo eagerly swung and bounded his way down to the platform below.
It didn't take him long to realize that Belle was no longer with him.
As always, a bit of unwelcome panic flared up into his heart and dried his throat. But, Quasimodo quickly tried to calm himself down, knowing that she was downstairs attending the mass. The first day she had decided to do that she had told him in advance and so he tried not to worry too much.
But… it wasn't easy. Her safety meant everything to him and when she wasn't near him where he was able to physically protect her, it did not feel right.
Deciding to distract himself, he limped over to his craft table and seated himself on his makeshift stool.
Looking over his model village, his eyes rested on the piece of fabric that was covering his latest work. He was almost done, there were just a couple things left to paint. Quasimodo reached over and lifted the fabric and took the figure in his hands, he then picked up his paint brush, dipped it in the blue paint and was soon quite busy.
Only once did he pause his work and that was to light the candle at the corner of his table as the sun had begun to set. Soon he would have to ring the Vespers, but he knew he would be finished before then. He only worried about not being done before Belle returned.
In no time at all though, his work had reached its completion. Quasimodo held it out away from him towards the candlelight to study. Nothing could help his soft smile as his eyes carefully scanned over the figure in the bouncing light of the flame. This was his best one.
As if on cue, he heard the ladder far behind him begin to creak as someone started climbing it. Gingerly, he set his latest addition to his village on the table and turned in his seat so that he could face her.
Sure enough, Belle's head poked up from below platform, followed by her shoulders, torso, and the rest of her. She took one look at him and then noticed the untouched basket of food. Belle put her hands on her hips disapprovingly.
"Quasimodo! Have you not eaten this entire time?" she asked, concern in her voice.
Chuckling softly, he stood from his stool and walked towards her.
"No… sorry. B-but from the looks of it, you only had an apple - you're one to talk," he teased, coming to a stop in front of the basket.
He hadn't meant to not eat… with everything going on in his mind and his heart, he just hadn't thought to. It wasn't like he could explain that to her though.
Smile still in place, he reached out and picked up a loaf of bread and took a bite out of it. After swallowing he turned back to her.
"Better?"
Belle laughed then before grabbing a piece of bread herself.
"You left so suddenly, I never had the chance to ask you – did you enjoy the book? Well, what you read of it anyway…" she asked.
"Yes. I understand now how real the worlds become… and the characters. I-I almost forgot I was even here for a moment."
Belle grew excited by this. If only she had more books to show him….
"There are more stories than that, you know. With different plots, different characters," she went on. For some reason, she had in her mind that somehow, some way she would show them all to him. That didn't seem possible at all right now, but not showing someone as educated as Quasimodo the world of books just was not an option to her. "That one is my favorite though."
"I-I can easily say that it's my favorite o-of everything I've ever read," he replied. Considering all he had ever really read had been lessons, passages from manuscripts… that wasn't saying too much.
She smiled. So did he.
The two then seated themselves and ate in comfortable silence.
After swallowing another mouthful, Quasimodo spoke up.
"What kept you after mass? I know it e-ended a while ago."
"Oh I was just speaking with the archdeacon. He wanted to know how I was doing since the last mass I went to. He always has nothing but kind things to say about you," she said.
"Really?" Quasimodo asked, genuinely surprised.
Belle nodded her head, trying not to be too upset at the constant reminder that Quasimodo seldom received praise of any kind.
"Of course. He speaks of how kind-hearted you are and talented to be able to ring the bells so well. He wishes you weren't so shy, but he understands why. He's quite fond of you," Belle stated, noticing how Quasimodo bashfully bowed his head.
He didn't say anything after that for a while, feeling almost a little uncomfortable. Quasimodo was very thankful when he realized it was time for him to ring the Vespers. The sun was almost completely set. Before he stood, he remembered his idea earlier.
"I-I must ring the bells for the Vespers now. W-would you like to see them?" he asked, not daring to breathe.
The look she gave him was strange. It was almost as if she was asking. Really? I can? Are you sure?
"There's nothing I'd like more," she replied, interested to see this other part of Quasimodo's world that had been in the dark for her.
"A-All right. This way," he said, making his way towards the platform with the slanted ladder. Belle was right behind him. When Quasimodo climbed to the top, he turned around and held out his hand for her, helping her up the rest of the way.
Belle had only been up here one other time, and she remembered it being lovely, but her memory paled in comparison to what she saw before her now. The last rays of the falling sun trickled in through openings in the tower, casting its light on the iron bells and filling the room with a glimmering, bronze light. It almost looked as if the very air was richer than the king.
She had forgotten that she had stopped moving until she felt a soft tug at her hand. Right away, she turned and locked eyes with Quasimodo; he smiled at her in amusement before guiding her the rest of the way in. The floor boards were uneven in some places and parted in dangerous ways where one could fall through if they weren't careful; he didn't dare release her hand just yet.
Once they were in the center though, Quasimodo let go of her hand and loped over towards a post. With no effort at all, he climbed his way up it until he was on the rafter with two bells above his head.
"This is Jacqueline and the one on the left is Gabrielle," he said proudly, as if he were introducing either one of his most dear friends, or a cherished, ancient relative.
Belle said nothing, but nodded her head, gazing up into the rafters high over her head. Again she was almost truck dumb by the vastness and amount of all these bells. She was sure that even if she had chosen to say anything, they would swallow any sound that her voice made.
Grasping the rope in his hands, Quasimodo looked back over his shoulder at her.
"Uh… you may want t-to cover your ears. I-It's very loud if you're not used to it…" he warned.
Belle smiled up at him in appreciation and placed her hands over her ears. Oh yes. She was very aware of how loud they could be. The bells had taken her by surprise on more than one occasion in the past.
Without any deliberation at all, Quasimodo gave a great pull on the rope, a loud clang sounding off shortly after. He kept his steady rhythmic movement until both bells were singing out into Paris. As always, he lost himself in the sound and for a moment, he forgot the Belle was even below him, watching.
Boldly, he leapt from the rafter towards a larger bell and grasped the lip. The force of his body knocking into it sent the bell swinging and tolling deeper and louder than the other two. It was a beautiful, almost dark, harmonic tone.
With her hands clasped firmly over her hears, Belle watched on breathlessly as Quasimodo practically flew around the bells, getting them all to sing, each sound different yet flowing well with the next. The look on his own face, she observed, was nothing if not contented happiness. This was what he was meant to do. What he had grown up doing. Seeing him do as such… it was right. She felt as if she were watching the very soul of Notre Dame at work.
It didn't last too long for soon, Quasimodo dropped from the rafters and was beside her again. Belle waited until the bells had swayed their way to silence before speaking.
"You looked so happy," she stated, only pointing out what she had observed.
The merry twinkle did not leave Quasimodo's eye.
"I am happy. All my friends are up here with me," he replied without hesitating.
Belle quickly understood the meaning of his words and wordlessly placed her hand on his shoulder.
The bells were his friends, the gargoyles, and she was too. She was a part of what made him so happy.
He let them stay as they were for a few moments longer before turning his head towards where all the other bells were.
"I'll introduce you to the rest," he announced happily, pulling away from her but gesturing for her to follow.
When they were further into the belfry, Quasimodo leapt onto a wooden post again and climbed his way back up to the rafter.
His hand reached up and caressed the bell next to him fondly before he turned to the woman looking on in curious wonder below him.
"This is Guillaume," he said, patting the bell he had just touched delicately, "And further back is Pasquier, Thibauld, and Eli."
Belle followed his hand as he gestured to the different bells, each one varying in size and shade, and probably sound if she were to hear them ring again.
"Do all your bells have names?" she asked, finding this all fascinating.
Quasimodo nodded his head before flipping off the rafter and landing beside her. He was very pleased to be talking about something he knew very well – after all, he had grown up with these ringing beauties and it had been his obligation to know every little thing about them.
"Do some of them have different purposes?" Belle found herself asking as she reached out and touched the bell nearest to her, it was so small she was sure that even she could give it a simple push and send it ringing.
"Yes," Quasimodo answered, his eyes on the bell that she had grazed with her fingertips, "that right there is Little Marie – her song sets the souls of all the children free who've died."
Belle gave a sad smile at the bell, what a tragic and beautiful task…
"This is Big Marie," he limped over to the bell near Little Marie, this one decently bit bigger, "when her voice rings out, it's for the mariners that set sail."
His hand just barely raked over the iron, as if he was almost afraid to touch the bell and insult it with his ugliness.
Belle followed him around the room with her eyes, noticing how he seemed to cherish the bells as if they were the finest treasure in all of France, in all the world. And, to Quasimodo – they might as well have been.
"Is there a bell you like the most?" she asked, wondering that even with his deep love for all of them, if there was one that he preferred even more.
A strange, lopsided smile suddenly graced the hunchback's face and he nodded his head. He tried to ignore the irony of that question and give her a real answer.
Wordlessly, he looked upward and she followed his gaze to the bell looming high above them. Belle stared up into its very center, almost hypnotized by the way the shadows inside almost made it seem an endless abyss.
When Belle turned to face Quasimodo, she gasped to see him no longer beside her, but up on the rafter standing next to the large bell.
With genuine carefulness, he placed his palm on the thick bead line.
"Grand Marie – mother to the other two. She rings for lovers who wed…" his voice faded then, but he tried not to let it.
Belle continued staring upwards at him and his favorite.
"She's beautiful," she said, taking her eyes off the bell and moving further along. She then caught sight of another bell – larger than any of the others – high up above another platform.
Intrigued, she headed over to the nearest ladder and began to climb it.
Quasimodo easily saw where she was headed and swung from rafter to rafter to meet her there.
When she reached the platform, she circled the bell a few times, her eyes wide at its massiveness.
Hesitantly, Belle reached out and touched it, the iron warm beneath her palm.
"Who is this one?" she asked, fully drawn in now by this amazing instrument.
In no time at all, Quasimodo was beside her and he gently tapped the bell with his finger so that it vibrated, the lowest of sounds coming from it.
Belle smiled at the warm vibration she felt, the low noise it made being strange and eerie, but at the same time, mysteriously beautiful.
"Emmanuel…" he finally introduced.
Her smile grew and she ran her hand further down the bell, its sound fading then.
"Emmanuel," she repeated. This one was her favorite.
"The biggest of them all. This one sings for Angelus, the hours in the day, most of the masses, and a majority of the festivals," he explained, noticing how Belle would not look away.
"This is my favorite of all your friends."
He could not help the strong sense of pride he felt that she seemed to enjoy his friends almost as much as he did; with the way she studied Emmanuel…
"Would you like to ring them?" he asked, unable to resist the idea.
Belle turned suddenly at such a notion.
"I can?" she asked, wanting to make sure. The bells seemed to be a very personal part of Quasimodo's world – the thought of anyone else ringing them seemed absurdly wrong.
"Yes, b-but only if you want to," he said quickly.
"Of course I want to. I don't see it being very possible – my strength is nothing compared to yours," she said, half teasing and half serious.
Quasimodo's eyes lit up as she said yes and he, with much less hesitance this time, took her hand and led her towards the ladder before helping her down.
"I'll help you," he declared.
Soon enough, they were on the center platform where several ropes hung. Quasimodo walked towards one of the less frayed of the ropes, taking it in his hands and holding it out to her. Belle reached out and grasped it.
She almost hitched in a breath, she hadn't even pulled yet and already she could just feel just how powerful the instrument was looming above her. Her eyes looked up high into the oblivion that was the tower ceiling before locking back on to Quasimodo. The look she gave him was clearly one that stated 'what am I supposed to do with this?'
The bellringer grinned at such a look and tried to refrain from chuckling. He only offered her one word.
"Pull."
Not saying anything, Belle gave a mighty tug.
Nothing happened.
If anything, all there was was the wind whistling through the openings in the bell tower, as if mocking her. The weight she was distributing was uneven and Belle almost found herself losing her footing, having only the rope to depend on for balance.
Out of nowhere, she felt a warm hand at her waist, keeping her upright and steadying her.
It was a good thing neither could see the other's face. Both were red.
"Here…" that soft voice said behind her.
The trembling hand that rested against her waist then went to her shoulder, the other going around her on the other side and grasping the rope just above where her own hand was.
He was quite suddenly directly behind her, his folded chest firmly pressed against her back. Belle swallowed hard at the contact, certainly not expecting it… but not disliking it.
Carefully, the hand on her shoulder then moved forward and rested over her other hand that held the rope.
"Pull," he said again.
She found herself obeying without thinking about it. This time though, as she pulled, he pulled with her.
The rope gave immediately, and after a few tugs – the bells were soon to follow.
Belle hardly noticed how loud they were, the bells were nothing compared the pounding of her heart racing through her ears.
"Y-you're doing it," he encouraged then. Belle could almost hear the smile in his voice.
She nearly looked back at him and grinned, but feared to do so at their sudden proximity to each other.
"No. You're helping me," she replied, wondering if he could even hear her.
With his strength behind her, as a crutch, Belle almost felt invincible. It felt to her as if nothing in the world could get her so long as she was like this. Never had she felt more protected…
…Never had she felt more confused at what it was that resonated in her heart.
They kept at it for several more strokes when quite suddenly, Quasimodo released any hold he had on her.
Nothing could stop the loud gasp of surprise that left her as her feet abruptly left the ground and she was suddenly dangling quite high up, swinging right along with the bell.
"Oh!" Belle gasped, surprise wracking her body at suddenly being this high up with nothing else around her. This had been entirely unexpected!
The hunchback was just as surprised at seeing her go sailing upwards as she had been. He had let go to simply give her a chance to ring the bells herself… not give her flying lessons. He was so used to solidly being planted on the ground while ringing, the concept of her strength (or lack thereof) had not occurred to him until just now
"It's all right!" he hollered up at her, "just hold on!"
Once the bell stopped moving, so would she.
Belle just nodded and shut her eyes at his instruction… it wasn't like she had any other option. It was perhaps a ten foot drop from where she was to the platform below her… one she could probably make, but she did not want to risk re-twisting her ankle.
Finally, finally after what seemed like eons, the bell stilled.
Belle opened her eyes and looked back down at Quasimodo directly beneath her.
"Belle, let go of the rope – I'll catch you," he said, his voice firm and not wavering, "I promise."
He meant it.
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes again, Belle released her hold.
She didn't even feel herself fall.
All she knew was that there had been no warmth… and now suddenly warmth was all around her.
The moment she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. It didn't take her long to realize that her face was pressed deeply into his chest.
Belle slowly lifted her head to look up at him, hazel clashing profoundly with turquoise.
Somehow in her fall, she had managed to land perfectly in his arms, her own arms wrapped tightly –perhaps to the point of near strangulation- around his neck.
And he was holding on to her almost just as tightly. As if both their very lives depended on it.
When she was this close to him it was almost as if the deformity was nonexistent; all she could see were his eyes and the windows that they truly were. She saw the panic, the concern, and the relief. What she also saw… was something soft; soft yet strong. It was a strength that she suddenly felt stir her own heart. Several trembles wracked his body, but Belle hardly noticed.
Neither moved. Neither spoke.
All they saw, all that mattered, was their eyes; their eyes that told each other things that they, in all their discussions, had not yet said to each other. Things he had felt for a while, things she was only just now starting to feel.
"I-I guess the bells are far heavier than you," Quasimodo mumbled stupidly, having nothing better to say- but wanting to say something.
Belle continued to look unblinking into his eyes.
"It would appear so…" she replied, her voice breathless and barely there.
Never had they been this close. And Belle realized with bewilderment that she wanted to be closer-
Somewhere high above the, a fluttering commotion started up as several pigeons abruptly took flight. And just like that – the spell, or whatever on earth it was that had come over them both, was broken.
Shaking her head, Belle took a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
The bellringer gently set her back on the ground, keeping his hand on her arm until he was certain she had her footing. Once he took his hand off her, he moved a couple feet away.
Belle cleared her throat awkwardly and looked elsewhere than his face, her eyes landing on the bells high above again. She could just faintly still hear their low vibrations in the heavy air.
"People are going to wonder what the occasion was… The bells don't normally ring at this time, do they?" she asked softly.
Quasimodo clasped his trembling hands together in hopes to still them.
"No th-they don't…" he replied, sneaking a look at her, only to find that she was doing the same thing.
Not being able to stand the confused silence that seemed to have come over them, Belle's eyes softened and she moved forward and took his hand.
"Thank you," she said then.
Quasimodo almost jumped when she took his hand, but he managed to control himself.
"For what?"
"Everything. Reading with me, the bells… catching me," she spoke that last part in a bit of a lighter tone.
Quasimodo laughed nervously and looked down at his feet.
"Y-you're…you're welcome," he answered.
Belle squeezed his hand and he looked back up at her.
There was no light now except the faint rays of the moon, but both their eyes flickered like hungry flames in the darkness.
"Your bells are beautiful. Paris is lucky to have someone as gifted as you look after them and help them to sing," she stated.
He modestly rubbed the back of his head.
"I just pull the ropes."
"It takes more than pulling the ropes, Quasi, I experienced that first hand," she teased. Quasi she liked that variant of his name – she chose to ignore its actual meaning.
To her delight, a genuine chuckle left him – not the nervous laughter from before. He too had enjoyed the shortening of his name and expressed as much by the soft, lopsided smile he gave her.
"Yes, I'm sorry a-about that. I-I didn't realize the bell would take you with her," he said in a flurry of words, as if he feared he couldn't get the apology out fast enough.
The look she gave him though stilled his lips.
"You don't need to be sorry, you were able to catch me – and now that think about it, being up there was quite… exciting," had she not been so startled then, she probably would have enjoyed it; though she wasn't about to try it again anytime soon
"Was it th-the adventure you were looking for?" Quasimodo jokingly asked, remembering how she spoke before of wanting more out of life.
Belle smiled.
"Something like that," she answered, trying not to think about what she had felt shortly after she had let go of the bell...ans she had been in his arms. That had certainly been an adventure.
Realizing that he was still holding her hand, he let go and let his arms fall limply at his sides, but the shy smile still remained on his face.
Even though it was not all that late, Belle felt strangely tired after the events of the day. She almost felt bad, it always seemed as if she was the one to turn in before he did, as well as wake up after him. How Quasimodo could have such energy all the time was beyond her, but she did not question it.
"You're about to go to bed, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.
Belle started at this. How did he know?
"Yes, actually. How could you tell?"
Quasimodo hesitated for a moment, but then finally answered.
"You… you just had that look is all. Y-your eyes always seem to dim a little just before you make the decision…"
She couldn't describe what it was she felt then, but it couldn't have been anything short of endearment. Her hunchbacked friend noticed every little thing about her, things even she herself had overlooked. But, the second she thought more on it, she knew it made sense. Of course he would be observant… his little wooden village downstairs was enough proof of that.
"What don't you see?" she playfully asked, beginning to back up a little towards the ladder.
He almost appeared taken aback by this. An answer didn't seem to want to come.
"I-I-I only see what I'm meant to see," he finally said after putting a bit of thought into it.
Her soft laughed filled the darkness. A knowing look appeared in her eyes.
"You see the world, Quasimodo," she said then before turning and making her way down the ladder, leaving him with his thoughts, "Goodnight."
He remained frozen there well after she had left and the sounds of her footsteps had ceased, the only movment from him being the light trembles of his hands.
She… He…
Oh…
Belle carefully climbed down the last of the ladders, thoughts whirling around in her head like a vicious wind. Where had that come from? What was this? The bell. The roses…
It had not been hard to see that Quasimodo cared for her; she knew that he was not used to kindness and therefore reacted quite strongly to the kindness she showed him. What she was by far not expecting was to care so heavily for him in return. Or at least begin to…
Never in a million years had she imagined feeling towards him what she had felt earlier. She was just being silly; and the fact that she was up in this tower with no one else to talk to other than him… of course she'd feel some sort of bond towards him.
It was just compassionate friendship and nothing more.
If it is simply that then why is it taking so much effort for you to convince yourself?
Before Belle could even attempt to shake that thought form her head, her eyes landed on Quasimodo's craft table.
It wasn't the table as a whole that had gotten her attention… it was the newest edition standing there in the middle of the model village.
Moving closer to the table, Belle got a better look at the figurine under the moonlight.
No detail had been overlooked; there was nothing extraordinary about it – but it was more than apparent that it had been made with a loving eye. Belle picked up the little wooden model and observed it carefully, a smile growing more and more on her face.
Everything from the minute ribbon in the hair to the hands holding a basket with a tiny book inside was perfect. Belle felt her heart tighten when she laid eyes on the bright, happy smile and the tiniest pink in the cheeks.
It was her.
It was her through the eyes of Quasimodo.
Again that feeling was there; and this time, Belle didn't try to fight it.
After staring at the smaller version of herself for a while longer, she placed it back on the table, but she didn't stop there. Her attention then turned to the oddly shaped figurine she knew so well alone up in the model of Notre Dame. She took it carefully into her hands, smiled fondly at it for a moment and then placed it down in the village square next to her own figurine for company. Something about the two being side by side just looked right to her.
Giving the display one last glance, Belle turned and went off to bed.
That next morning when she awoke, there wasn't a white rose waiting for her – but a red one.
A/N: Okay first things first: My deepest apologies on the delay. I'm not going to make a long list of excuses - you all know the holidays and the back to school rush can keep people quite busy. I'm moving back in a couple days, but I've been packing for a while. Also... sorry again for the length - again I found it difficult to cut the flow and found it better left alone. I think it's safe to say you can just expect lengthy chapters from now on... I hope it's at least worth the wait /:
Secondly: Oh my goodness! Thank you so much for all the reviews everyone. There were several points in this chapter that I struggled, but your reviews helped so much. They will continued to be VERY appreciated.
I promise to lighten up on the Belle/Quasi fluff soon. It's getting to be a bit much even for me - an established bond between the two is important though, but I promise you'll be seeing some action in the near future. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it contains my dream that actually inspired this whole story.
NOTES:
*For all you historians, I am indeed aware that Emmanuel was not installed until the 17th century - Disney magic, okay? Emmanuel will be an important element in later chapters.
*One white rose means innocence, secrecy, purity. One red rose means I love you.
Have a great week!
-QuasimodoLeBossu