a Disney's Beauty and and Beast Fanfic
by
C. "Sparky" Read
Part VII:
"This Wasn't In the Bridal Registry"
Gaston scowled at Jessamyn as the girl climbed down off of the wagon. "There you are," he said crossly. "It's about time you got back. Think we can actually have a wedding now?"
Jessamyn skipped up onto the porch as Gaston got up from his chair, picking up his crutch as he did so. The girl made a big show of throwing her arms about the man while he made a big show of not liking it. "Missed you too," she chirped, taking the Magic Mirror from the pouch at her waist and tucking it into Gaston's belt. "Told you I wouldn't lose it," she said as he promptly took it back out to examine it. "Neat little toy."
"I told you this isn't a toy." Gaston replaced the Mirror in his belt and made his way down the porch steps towards the back of the wagon. "You get that big surprise wedding present that you just had to have?" he pressed, peeking inside. Jessamyn ran up to him and tugged at his arm.
"What part of 'surprise' is a foreign concept to you?" she complained as the much stronger man continued to look around the inside of the wagon, oblivious to her pulling. "Besides," she said triumphantly, stepping away, "it isn't even in there. So ha."
Gaston turned to look at the girl, making a face. "What do you mean it isn't in there?" he demanded. "Start making sense, for once. Did you get it or not?"
"I got it!"
"Then where is it?" Gaston challenged with a smirk, tucking his crutch under his arm and putting his knuckles on his hips. "...You lost it, didn't you?"
Jessamyn put her hands on her hips too. "I didn't!"
"I'll bet." Gaston rolled his eyes. "Because of course you never lose anything."
"If you're referring to that goat I misplaced last year, that was an honest mistake."
"Well. It was honestly something."
Ignoring him, Jessamyn turned back to the house. "Mama! Papa!" she shouted. "Emeline! I'm back! Come out and see what I brought!"
Gaston spread out his arms. "There isn't anything here!" he reminded her.
Jessamyn stuck her tongue out at him. "Patience," she said.
"I haven't got time for patience," grunted the other as Doctor and Madame Lecroix emerged from the house.
"Jessamyn, dear," Madame greeted her daughter. "We were so worried about you."
"I made it back all right, Mama. Where's Em?"
"Busy making a pie," replied the doctor. "You know your sister. Well, did you get that gift you wanted?"
"Yes, Papa. Wait until you see." Jessamyn could barely contain herself. "But I want Em to see too. Emeline!" she shouted at the house.
Madame raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to save it for the wedding?"
Jessamyn grinned. "I don't think it can wait that long."
LeFou contemplated dismounting; he had no idea just how long he would have to wait before Jessamyn gave him the signal to enter town. But he was well aware of the effort involved in climbing up onto the back of a full-grown horse without a stepladder - such was the cross he had to bear - and in the end he decided to stay put. Beneath him, Omri seemed content to graze peacefully, and LeFou decided the stallion was in no hurry to be rid of his rider.
But Stella was another story. She danced agitatedly at the end of her reins, refusing to settle down and graze beside her sire. LeFou had been yanked out of Omri's saddle enough times to know that when Stella got this way, it was touch-and-go on keeping her restrained by merely holding the reins; so he made up his mind to dismount at last and secure the reins to a tree.
Stella, however, wasn't having any. As soon as LeFou swung his left leg over Omri's back to climb down, the black mare bolted in the direction of town, ripping her reins out of the man's hand and sending him crashing to the forest floor. He managed to extricate his face from the dirt in time to see her disappear through the trees.
"Great, way to blow everything," LeFou grumbled to himself, sitting up and brushing grime off of the sleeves of his coat. Stella was going to ruin the surprise, and he wasn't going to have much of a shot making a good impression looking like he'd just been dragged ten yards through mouldy leaves. Omri, who had danced away a bit, now came over and gave LeFou a firm shove with his muzzle; LeFou seized the grey stallion's bridle and used the horse's leverage to haul himself to his feet. Figuring he may as well go into town now, he clambered up into Omri's saddle and headed in that direction.
Danvers was unquestionably a diminutive village. The number of freestanding structures - whether they be houses or shops (or both) it was hard to tell - could almost be counted on both hands; there was a liberal smattering of goats and chickens roaming about, but few sheep, and fewer horses. A generously sized (but ancient-looking) green-and-white canvas pavilion dominated the center of town.
At the moment when LeFou hesitantly directed Omri into the village, what was certainly just about the entire population - men, women, and children - had congregated near one of the houses. Jessamyn's wagon stood to the side, horse still hitched. Stella was in the center of the curious crowd, and the man holding her reins could be no one other but Gaston.
LeFou stared transfixed at Gaston as he drew nearer, himself unnoticed as of yet. It really was him. LeFou hadn't been sure what to expect after Jessamyn had described Gaston's injuries, but he really didn't look much different than he did before. He may possibly have been a bit thinner - yes, that was it, he was a bit thinner - but otherwise he was the one and only Gaston.
Pretty soon LeFou was close enough to hear what Gaston was saying:
"I have to admit, Jess, this is a pretty good gift. Worth delaying the wedding, that's for sure. You - stand back," he addressed a young man about his own age, who had taken a step towards the mare. "She doesn't like strangers."
Gaston was too engrossed in inspecting Stella to spot LeFou when everyone else present did; the crowd parted silently to allow Omri to pass.
"Gaston," said Jess, tugging on the other's arm as she glanced urgently in LeFou's direction. "The horse isn't the only thing I brought from Molyneaux. There's...something else."
Gaston didn't even look up. "Well, throw it in the cellar," he replied shortly, totally absorbed in straightening Stella's bridle.
Jess had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "I don't know," she said seriously. "Don't you think that would make us bad hosts?" She tugged at Gaston's arm again.
"What?" said Gaston, looking round at last. "How do you m - " He fell silent at once, and he and LeFou stared at one another.
Gaston was both speechless and numb from suprise, leaving only his brain working freely, and as you can well imagine it wasn't entirely up to the challenge. But it did its best.
To be perfectly frank, Gaston wasn't initially pleased to see LeFou. He wouldn't have been pleased to see anyone from his life prior to That Night - or to put it more precisely, he wouldn't have been pleased to be seen by anyone. He wasn't fully recovered; his physique wasn't entirely back to standard; and to top it off, he had a crutch tucked under his left arm. To the citizens of Danvers this was fine, because they had seen him when he first arrived and comparatively, his recovery had been quite impressive.
But LeFou had known him when he was whole. Physically, Gaston was now flawed, and he could never put that out of his mind. To make things worse, LeFou had probably idollised him more than just about anyone else had - what would he think of him now?
At last Gaston regained the use of his throat. "LeFou," he said, managing not to sound strangled. He waited expectantly for the other to gasp in shock and make some glaring comment about his diminished state.
But LeFou, to his credit, did neither of these things. Instead, he broke into a big smile. "Hi Gaston," he said, as genially as if the two had just seen each other the night before at the tavern and were getting together for some casual hunting. "How've you been?"
Gaston blinked a couple of times before exhaling and stepping forward. Chiding himself for not expecting as much from LeFou, he swept the other right out of Omri's saddle - crutch falling forgotten to the ground - and enfolded him in a rib-cracking bearhug.
Around them, the spectators grinned as Gaston laughed. "LeFou! I don't believe it!" cried the hunter, tucking the smaller man under his right arm in order to firmly rub his knuckles into the top of LeFou's head.
"Ow! Gaston!" LeFou managed to protest. "Quiddit! Ow!"
Gaston suddenly held LeFou out at arm's length to appraise him. "What happened to you?" Gaston demanded bluntly, wrinkling his nose. "You're filthy!"
"Well, I - I - "
But apparently it was a rhetorical question. "Em!" Gaston barked over his shoulder at the house. "Come out here! Look who it is!"
LeFou, who knew better by now not to struggle too hard when he was being manipulated like a rag doll lest he be dropped head-first, followed the crowd's lead and looked expectantly at the front door of the house. When it opened, there was no doubt in his mind that the person who emerged was none other than the woman Gaston had chosen to marry. Emeline Lecroix was quite a beauty.
The golden-haired vision floated down the porch steps, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron and smiling a reserved sort of lemon-twist smile that managed somehow to add to her allure as well as impart a note of mystery. LeFou noticed at once that her attire was modest and unrevealing; but other than that he concluded that Emeline seemed indeed precisely Gaston's type - at least physically. But then, with Gaston, what other criteria was there?
Gaston proudly held LeFou out before him like a new puppy, and LeFou was felled speechless once again when Emeline stepped up to him, that lemon-twist smile stamping itself upon his memory like a royal seal. "Monsieur LeFou," she greeted him softly, and kissed him on both cheeks. A chuckle from the closest members of the audience told him that he was blushing, and he tried to laugh too to cover his embarrassment.
Gaston finally set him down. "Good going, sis," he commended Jessamyn, who was standing nearby beaming smugly, and he gave LeFou a sudden whap on the back that nearly sent the small man tumbling to the ground for the second time that day. "Sorry, fellows," Gaston went on, turning in a circle to address the crowd, "but I'm afraid the position of Best Man has been filled."
LeFou noted that the village men received this announcement with good-natured chuckles. Gaston had delivered the news as if he truly expected the other men to be jealous; clearly these villagers had learned to humour the vain hunter.
Gaston suddenly could not resist the urge to show off - in front of the villagers, in front of LeFou; but most importantly, in front of Emeline. At once he sprang into Stella's saddle, his bad leg little hindrance, causing the mare to rear and whinny. "Stella's the fastest horse in the Principality!" he proclaimed, and slapped Stella's flank when her forelegs once again touched ground. With another whinny, she was off like a shot. Gaston rode her in a circle around the little town, shouting and whooping.
Jessamyn stepped up beside LeFou. "He's like this all the time," she said, smiling, as Doctor and Madame Lecroix exhanged long-suffering looks.
"Yeah. I know."
Gaston brought Stella to a halt at precisely the same spot she had started from and hopped nimbly down, favoring his left leg, and grandly accepted the villager's complements on what a fine horse he owned.
LeFou suddenly spotted Gaston's crutch lying on the ground beside his feet, noticing for the first time that the crosspiece at the top was made from a piece of polished antler, which gave it a rustic touch and suited its owner. LeFou picked it up gingerly, as if it were fragile.
"Um, Gaston?" he spoke up hesitantly.
"Huh? Oh. Thanks." Gaston absently plucked the crutch from LeFou's hands and placed it under his left arm. "No, no, Fedore, I told you to stay away from that horse," Gaston chastised the same young man from before, who was reaching for Stella's bridle.
"Oh, it's okay," said Jessamyn brightly. "She isn't mean any more."
"What?" Puzzled, Gaston turned to LeFou.
"Gaston, I'm sorry," blurted LeFou, cringing a bit despite himself. "I know you liked Stella...spirited, but...I didn't want her to be put down, so I...I - "
Gaston looked from Stella to LeFou, to Stella, and then back again. "You broke my horse?" he demanded. "You?"
Uh-oh. "Um, well, you know, I - I thought, you know, that it was best, I mean - "
At once Gaston burst out laughing. "Nice job!" he exclaimed, thumping his crutch on the ground in emphasis. "It always really annoyed me that I couldn't stable her anywhere I wanted. Well, then, Fedore. " He took both Stella's and Omri's reins and handed them to the young man. "Take care of these horses, will you, lad?"
Fedore was glad to comply. "Right away, Gaston." He led the animals away as the crowd finally dispersed.
Gaston slapped a hand on LeFou's shoulder. "Well come on in!" he beamed. "That dinner ready yet, Em?"
"Almost."
"I hope you like pie," Doctor Lecroix commented as they all headed inside.
"Don't I look like I like pie?" LeFou asked, and Jessamyn laughed.
The Lecroix house was rather crowded. Doctor and Madame Lecroix occupied one bedroom, and as it turned out Gaston had been staying in Emeline's since he had arrived a year before. When LeFou found out that Jessamyn was going to move out to the sitting room with Emeline so he could have her bedroom, he objected, but lost the argument in the end.
The doctor and his wife were lovely people, and it intrigued LeFou to note that they treated Gaston as their own son. As Gaston had always claimed that he had never known his father and could barely remember his mother, it was fascinating to watch the three of them together. Knowing Gaston as he did, LeFou was able to see through the hunter's cavalier attitude and recognise that he was truly fond of them. It was something LeFou had never seen before, not from Gaston, and it really struck him. And Gaston as had apparently long ago accepted Jessamyn, as LeFou himself had put it, "an annoying little sister."
As for Emeline...well, she was a bit of an enigma. As they all chatted over dinner, LeFou watched Emeline constantly out of the corner of his eye. She hardly ever sat down, but rather flitted around the table like a graceful moth, attending to everyone's needs; she always seemed to know in advance when one was about to finish their wine or wished for another helping of something. LeFou had frankly never seen anything like it. Unlike her loquacious sister, Emeline didn't seem inclined to speak very often, adding to her ethereal sort of presence: it was if she wasn't there, and yet was everywhere at once. She was beautiful, gracious, and coyly reserved all at the same time. LeFou envied Gaston's good fortune, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly over Belle. LeFou had never seen Gaston as preoccupied with anyone as much as he had been with her...He longed to speak to Gaston alone but that didn't seem likely to happen any time soon.
Gaston had been delighted at the trunk full of his personal belongings, and especially at the two guns and the bow LeFou had also brought for him. "We'll go hunting tomorrow and bring back a feast for the wedding!" Gaston declared, although LeFou was well aware that there wouldn't be time. He felt sure that his friend was merely bragging again, and presently forgot the comment entirely.
When LeFou wouldn't do so, Jessamyn monopolised part of the evening talking about his brewing business, repeating everything he had told her. The news that LeFou and Jessamyn had brought along some homemade ale was well received.
After dinner Gaston dragged LeFou around the village, introducing him to every last individual he could find, again depriving him of the chance to get the other alone. LeFou was honoured to meet Cecil, the elderly fisherman who had found Gaston in the river. The young man Fedore was Cecil's son and had been the one who had carried Gaston to the doctor's house. Gaston seemed as close to Cecil as he was to the doctor and his wife, treating him as a sort of grandfatherly figure.
It occurred to LeFou that the entire village of Danvers was responsible for Gaston being alive and well. Cecil and his son might have pulled Gaston from the river; the doctor and his family might have nursed him back to health; but it had been the combined effort of every person in the village that had kept his existence a secret from the Prince's men. Everyone had feared that the unfortunate man would be incarcerated, and had risked committing treason to protect him. It was Cecil who had traveled alone to the Palace for the Goodwill Ball last spring and come back bearing news of Gaston's "death." But how long they could keep this secret was unknown. It was easy to keep Gaston hidden from the herald who had come by to announce the Ball, as he was still unconscious at that time; but once the previous autumn a band of the Prince's men had ridden out to Danvers, apparently for the heck of it. The weaver and his wife had stashed Gaston in their cellar, and it had been a close call. It was all rather bizarre to LeFou, and made him feel a bit like a traitor to the Crown. He still hoped he wouldn't be the one to blow Gaston's cover. That would be a shame, considering how happy Gaston seemed here.
As they toured the village, LeFou noticed that the men joined them one by one, the women and children going back inside their homes. By the time they had completed the circuit of the town, the men had formed a miniature mob, which then started to gravitate towards the brightly lit pavilion. LeFou observed that somewhere along the way one of his ale kegs had been picked up and was being borne upon the shoulders of two of the stronger men.
"What's in there?" LeFou wanted to know as they approached the pavilion.
"What'dya think?" asked a man called Caspar, smiling broadly. "What kind've weddin' d'ya think it'd be tomorrow, without a proper bachelor party?"
"...And then it starts pouring rain, so he gives up and goes home. As he gets back in bed he says, 'The weather out there is terrible!' And his wife says, 'I know! Can you believe my idiot of a husband is out there fishing in it?'"
The bachelor party had so far consisted of men drinking, telling jokes (most of them involving fishing and many of them quite lewd) and drinking some more. Really, it was pretty much like any other party LeFou had ever gone to with Gaston. But he enjoyed the company; every man in the village had both welcomed him warmly and cheered him for his ale. He was just glad to be there, with all these good, humble fishermen - not to mention Gaston himself. It really was almost too perfect to be true.
"All right, all right," said Cecil, refilling his mug. "Enough jokes. A toast to Gaston!"
"You said no more jokes!" shouted someone. The men laughed.
"All right," repeated Cecil good-naturedly. He lifted his mug and the other men followed suit while Gaston sat there basking in all the attention.
"I'd like to repeat," began Cecil, "what my grandfather said to me the day I left Byington - "
"Don't come back," quipped the same man from before. More laughter.
Cecil waited for it to die down before turning to Gaston. "'May ye be in Heaven half an hour,'" he toasted, "'before the Devil knows you're dead.'"
"Huzzah!" cheered the men.
"A speech!" called Fedore as everyone drank.
"No, a story!" shouted Caspar.
"Story!" repeated several voices.
Gaston started to stand up obligingly, mouth open to start in on what he no doubt considered a particularly juicy story of one of his own exploits, when Caspar spoke up again: "Let LeFou tell one!"
"Yes, LeFou!"
"LeFou!"
LeFou stopped in mid-drink as the men cheered him on all around. Gaston sank back into his seat, intrigued.
"Yes, tell us a story, LeFou," he prompted.
"About Gaston!" said someone.
"Yes. About me." Gaston flashed his teeth in a jaunty grin.
LeFou looked around uncertainly for a moment. "Oh, uh...okay," he said, putting his mug down. He stood up, then wisely decided to stand on his chair. "I guess I know a good one..."
"Something funny!" yelled Caspar.
LeFou relaxed. That sort of story would be easier to tell than a grueling tale of Gaston vs. Nature. "Okay," he said, not noticing Gaston shoot him a warning look. "I know a funny one.
"Back when me and Gaston were going to open the tavern, we were looking for a good brewery to ship beer out to us. One night someone tipped us off that there was a brewer from Aglionby in town, so Gaston invited him over to my place for drinks after everyone else had gone home. As it happened, this guy had four beautiful daughters."
There were a few catcalls.
"Gaston really sweet-talked this guy for all he was worth and he made us a really good deal on beer. The girls wanted to hang around longer - to listen to Gaston's stories, you know - so Gaston escorted the brewer across town to the Inn while the girls stayed behind with me. He took the keys and I locked the door behind him."
Louder catcalls. Gaston rolled his eyes.
"Nothing happened," insisted LeFou. "Anyways, that lock was kind of sticky; the key wouldn't go in all the way unless you gave it an extra push, and until you did, it wouldn't turn. But I forgot to tell Gaston. I remembered about the sticky lock right after he left and mentioned it to the girls.
"So little while later there's a key in the lock and the handle starts shaking and before I know it one of the girls shouts, 'Shove it in harder!'"
The pavilion, which had gone quiet, nearly fell down with the force of the men's laughter. Gaston, finally remembering this story, grit his teeth and scowled into his beer.
"And so Gaston," LeFou went on as soon as he could be heard, " - I'm not making this up - he actually breaks the door in half - " another wave of laughter, "yelling, 'What the hell is going on in here?!'"
"I don't see what's so funny," said Gaston sourly as the men pounded him on the back in their mirth. "We had to put off opening the tavern for a week because we had to wait for the carpenter to make us a new door."
The men broke into laughter anew.
"Party's over, lads," announced Cecil at length. "This town's got a big day ahead of it. Time to go on home."
Protests.
"The beer's all gone, anyways."
"Oh."
"Right."
"Night, then."
With apologies to the Irish Rovers