Chapter 11

Love & War

Ella stared in amazement at the towering shelves filled with thousands of leather-bound volumes. She was astonished at the vast collection of written tomes contained within one place. Belle smiled with satisfaction.

"This is how your people bequeath their knowledge?" Ella inquired, brushing her hands over the soft bindings.

"Some of these are," Belle said with a nod, gesturing at the shelves along the eastern wall. "Those books are our collection of historical texts. Fascinating stories of wars and conquests, along with books of customs and theology. But most of these here are fictional."

"Fictional?" Ella repeated carefully. "I do not know that word."

"Fictional. It means made up. Fictional stories are created entirely by the imagination of the writer."

"Remarkable," Ella breathed, regarding the thick volumes with a new admiration. "It is a wonder to think that a person could conceive ideas marvellous enough to merit so many words in its telling." Ella lifted a book from a nearby shelf and ran her fingertips over the embossed silver lettering. "What is this one titled?"

Belle approached her and glanced at the hunter-green cover. A delighted smile crossed her face. "This is called Cinderella. It is a good example of a genre of fiction called 'fairy tales.' Fairy tales, as you can probably guess, involve magic to help the hero reach his or her happy ending, and usually incorporate a moral as well."

"Does the hero always find a happy ending?" Ella asked wistfully.

"Always," Belle said with finality, then hesitated. "Well, almost always anyway. There are some writers who enjoy making dark and vicious tales, especially a pair called the Grimm Brothers, but even most of those ended well enough."

Ella began scanning through the book's pages, gazing at its elaborate illustrations. "This looks like a charming tale," Ella commented, closing the book again. "Does this one end well?"

"You should read it and find out," Belle suggested.

"I cannot read runes," Ella admitted. "None of my people can, save for maybe a few of the elders who spent years among mortals."

"Your people do not read?" Belle asked in amazement, seemingly horrified at the very thought. "How do you convey information then?"

"My people possess an ability to simply embed our stories within an object. Afterwards when someone touches it they instantly know the story. It is much faster than writing it and it eliminates the possibility of falsehood. I have never read anything in my lifetime."

"How sad," Belle said with genuine conviction. "Well it is a rather short story. Would you like it if I were to read it to you?"

"I would be honoured," Ella said eagerly. Belle led her over to a cushioned bench and the two settled down beside each other. Belle opened the book and laid it against her knees. As she read in a clear voice, Ella gazed at the detailed pictures, imagining them moving along with the words Belle spoke. The enchantress was captivated by the pure magical ability of these scribed runes to create dazzling images within her head.

When Belle finally closed the book with a contented sigh Ella glanced up at her. "Surely you must be also an enchantress. Just by speaking you formed scenes inside my head and as you told the story it was also played in my mind. Where did you learn such a skill?"

Belle laughed. "I am no enchantress and anyone who can read can do the same. The magic is not in me but in the words. That is the beauty of a book; it can take you to far off places and through exhilarating adventures while you still rest in the comfort of your chair."

Ella stroked the cover of the book with bewilderment. "I see why you love reading so much. Why do some of your people not enjoy such an experience?"

"Some people find the task of reading too tiresome," Belle said sadly. "For some people it is more difficult to understand the letters and create words from them very quickly so they lose interest before they can understand what the story is telling. I guess I was simply blessed in comprehending the words so easily."

"Blessed indeed," Ella agreed with a smile. Over the last two days Ella had spent a great amount of time with Belle and she had grown to enjoy her company. Belle was so easy to be friends with and she was very welcoming. For the first time in her life Ella understood how it felt to belong somewhere. Belle made her feel like they had been friends forever and there was nothing more natural than spending time together. "Thank you for reading to me," the enchantress said sincerely. "I liked it a lot."

"Perhaps if you can find time I can teach you how to read yourself," Belle suggested. She smiled when Ella's face lit up with joy. "Very well, I will see to it that you learn to read. That is a promise. I would be sad to see someone with such a joy for books not be able to enjoy them."

"Thank you so much, Belle," Ella beamed. "You are indeed a special person."

Belle blushed lightly. She glanced down at the book in her lap and her face grew serious. "Enchantress?"

"Ella," the enchantress insisted.

"Sorry. Ella, could you possibly show me how your people's method of reading is done?" The pure curiosity in Belle's face reminded Ella of a young child's.

"I can try," Ella said slowly. "I'm not certain that it works in the same way for mortals. Enchanters experience different sensations and emotions than mortals do so some messages may get confused. I will try though."

The enchantress stood and strode toward a stone statue, smiling vaguely at the familiar figure of a hawk. Closing her eyes, Ella placed a hand atop the bird's head and began speaking in a low voice. Her words were not French, but the language of her people, a more powerful and deadly language than any spoken on Earth. As she spoke a faint light shone from beneath her eyelids and a trail of silvery air slid from her fingertips and engulfed the statue. Finally Ella opened her eyes and the white light faded, although the silvery sheen around the stone did not.

"Alright, I placed into this statue a memory connected to its semblance," Ella said carefully. "It is much easier to insert a memory into something if it has similarity to the object. I do not actually know what memory it was, as there were so many connected with this figure that I got rather lost within my own mind. Hopefully if you touch it you will witness the memory instantaneously within your head. But do so carefully; once you receive this memory it will stay with you, it will not disappear when you lift your hand from the statue."

"I still want to try," Belle said confidently. "This statue looks as you did, so logically your memory will have some connection to your time here at the castle. Nothing all that bad happened to you here, did it?"

"No, my times here are some of my happiest," Ella confessed.

"Very well then." Belle rose and, after taking a deep breath, placed her hand on the hawk's head. Behind her eyes swirled a chaotic stream of images and her heart twisted with a variety of emotions. A candle and a clock. Joy, surprise, pain, regret. Belle's eyes snapped open and she quickly withdrew her hand from the stone.

"What was it?" Ella asked worriedly. "I didn't think any of my experiences outside the castle would connect to this. I'm so sorry Belle."

"No, it's all right." Belle placed a hand on her chest and found her heart beating rapidly. "It wasn't a memory from outside the castle. I recognised Cogsworth and Lumière. It was a conversation you held with them the night Adam sent me home to help my father."

"Oh," Ella said, still regretting letting Belle try this particular experience.

"I never really thought about whether you had any thoughts after casting the spell," Belle said slowly, surveying the enchantress with her wide brown eyes. "You truly regretted it, didn't you?"

"Not at first," Ella said with a sigh. "I assumed that anyone who could tolerate working with such an arrogant man could only be equally distasteful. But after a while of spending time with them, getting to know them all, I felt sorry that I had cast the spell over the entire household. I wish dearly that I had not been so hasty in my words and cursed only the prince. I was terrified after you left that my careless decision might have ruined the lives of such wonderful humans. There is nothing in my life that I have ever regretted more."

Belle was struck silent by the pure conviction in the enchantress' voice. It was clear that she meant those words with her whole heart.

"You said that enchanters experience different emotions than humans," Belle said after a long while. "Are there some human emotions that you do not feel? Or do you know more emotions than us?"

"Many human emotions I cannot recall ever experiencing but I am sure there are some that have." Ella sighed sadly and turned her gaze to the wide window. "It is said that enchanters cannot feel one certain emotion, that we were magically torn from it centuries ago so as to be able to fulfil our jobs without emotional interference. No enchanter has ever claimed to know the feeling and I fear that perhaps the myths are true. There is nothing more terrifying to me than the notion that there is truth to my father's words."

"What emotion?" Belle asked softly, aware that the enchantress was deep in thought and that they had reached a soft topic.

Ella sighed again, this time with a longing that made Belle's heart ache, before answering in a quiet voice. "Love."


LeFou sat loyally beside Gaston's chair in the tavern, listening vacantly as the hunter once again retold his heroic encounter with the dark assassin. LeFou had heard the tale so often it no longer held any novelty for him. So once again, as he had many times in his life, LeFou put on an attentive face and allowed his mind to wander.

His thoughts twisted to the co-star in Gaston's dramatic story. LeFou already knew that what Gaston said of Ella to the villagers was untrue, but for the first time in his life the lackey was doubting whether he had placed his allegiance in a noble man. LeFou knew his friend had not told him all of what had happened between him and Ella, and LeFou shuddered to think what horrors Gaston might have submitted her to.

While LeFou would never have admitted it to anyone aloud, inside he knew that most of his unease for the young woman was because of her kindness to him. His whole life LeFou had been tormented and ridiculed for being a midget, for being a slow-thinker, for never being good enough for anything. Even though he had escaped much of this torture when Gaston had taken a liking to him, he still caught the whispered jokes in the streets and the tavern. And Gaston's treatment was almost as bad as the anything the other men could have forced upon him. LeFou knew that he was blessed to have gained recognition from such a prestigious man as Gaston but he still wondered what would have come of him had his life taken a different path.

I'd probably be dead by now, LeFou thought cynically. Without Gaston to protect me I'd have been killed by my own stupidity.

Still LeFou couldn't help but remember the gentle young Ella, with her kind words and sweet smile. The smile that had also shown LeFou that she had actually seen him as a person, not just as Gaston's shadow. The feeling of being known was something that LeFou was unaccustomed to and he found it exhilarating. For that simple gesture LeFou had taken a liking to Ella and now he wondered whether it was safe to associate himself with a man who could so cruelly use such a kind woman.

"Isn't that right, LeFou?" Gaston asked loudly, not even glancing down at his sidekick.

"Darn right," LeFou answered automatically with as much enthusiasm as his surprised mind could offer.

"Exactly," Gaston said, hardly noticing that LeFou had responded at all. "Well I have to be up early for a hunting trip so I'm going to turn in." Gaston stood and LeFou hastily followed suit. The hunter strode easily across the room, gaining the occasional pat on the back from the admiring men, and into the cool night air. Darkness had settled hours before and LeFou inhaled deeply of the clean air, allowing it to refresh his confused mind. The pair had walked for a short while before LeFou dared speak.

"Gaston?" the lackey asked tentatively. Gaston glanced down at him with his forehead furrowed and jerked his head to show he was listening. "I was wondering, why did you have to invent such an elaborate tale to cover Ella's leaving? Wouldn't it have been simpler to say that she was leaving to visit a sick family member or something?"

Gaston laughed heartily as if LeFou's question had been a joke. "It might have been but if I said something like that then the villagers would have expected her to return eventually and I have no proof that she might. Also if she were leaving to visit family she would have been more likely to leave with the morning instead of in the dead of night."

"Oh," LeFou sighed with defeat. "I suppose that does make sense."

"Of course it does," Gaston said sharply, then his voice softened into a jovial tone again. "Besides, this tale made me seem far more exciting. Remember, it's all about the image."

Gaston opened his front door and entered, gesturing for LeFou to follow him inside.

"What if she does return though?" LeFou asked curiously. "What will you do?"

"If that traitorous wench dares come back after the way she behaved I will see that she is punished properly," Gaston said with a twisted smile. "The entire village believes her to be a dark assassin after my blood. I will let them deal with her as they will." LeFou shuddered as he began to image the horrors the villagers could inflict upon her. You go after the hero and the fan club turns wicked, LeFou thought grimly. The lackey found himself praying that Ella would never return to Molyneaux.

Gaston started speaking again, far too calmly for someone who had just unfairly sentenced a woman to unimaginable torture. "Now with her gone from me, though, I can return my mind to more important matters."

"What matters?" LeFou asked curiously.

Gaston's face darkened as he glanced into the empty fire-grate. "Belle." His voice came out as a growl and LeFou was frightened by the intensity in his face. Then the vision passed and Gaston looked up at LeFou. "Light us a fire, LeFou. I'll need the light to devise my plans."

LeFou didn't ask what plans the hunter had in mind, instead springing out of his seat to set the logs near the fireplace within. As LeFou struck the tinderbox he heard the chair groan in protest as Gaston sat. Soon the flames crept up around the soft bark of the wood and cast their dancing light around Gaston's room.

"I have to get her back," Gaston said as LeFou took a seat across from him at the table. Gaston looked up at him but his expression was not the one that LeFou expected. Instead of longing and earnestness the hunter's features were tainted with fury and rage. "I can't let that filthy monster win. I shall be victorious. I am Gaston, the great hunter. I can't lose to a beast!"

LeFou sat and watched him silently, not trusting himself to speak. His legs were quaking with fear at this new ferocity and LeFou desperately hoped that Gaston wouldn't ask him to go get anything. The lackey waited as Gaston fumed for a few moments and then began muttering to himself about how he would kill the beast. After what seemed like hours Gaston finally slammed his fist down on the table, startling LeFou so badly he fell straight off his chair.

"I have it, LeFou!" the hunter announced as LeFou climbed shakily back into his seat. "I've come up with a perfect plan." Gaston hastily began relaying the details of his plot and LeFou listened, trembling with fear, as the evil scheme was unfolded before him.

Gaston finished with a wicked grin, accompanying the words with corresponding gestures. Then he laughed richly.

"Yes, soon that filthy beast's head will be mine," the hunter told his sidekick confidently. "As will Belle. Yes, they will be mine."

LeFou sat quaking with terror as vivid images of Gaston's triumph played in his mind until his fear overcame him and he collapsed in a dead faint.