Fate of a Bellringer: Chapter 2
By closing one's eyes one sees faint outlines of moving shapes, a whirling kalidioscope of colour and movement. Similarly, to plug one's ears is to hear what is not meant to be heard, the flicker of an eyelid, the motion of one's own pulse while still hearing the world around you. Imagine the world silent, no human voices, no wind through the trees or fluttering birds. Complete silence, where the spirit voice is clearly audible. To the average soul, these voices fall upon deaf ears. To the deaf ear, their voices cannot be ignored. It is these voices Quasimodo came to observe.
At the beginning, Quasimodo dismissed their sounds as his imagination. To hear voices now would be absurd, to hear voices from stone was lunatic. The bells only spoke when he pulled on the ropes, the stones were just that, stone. They did not move. Yet they seemed to mumble amongst themselves whenever he passed by or sat upon a rainspout to read a scroll, they seemed to move. The bits of sculpture, the chimeras and gargoyles could be heard whispering. Whispering? He no longer heard his master's shouting, much less a whisper.
Eventually, the bellringer began reading within the confines of the church, as to avoid the sounds outside the tower. At this point, they joined him. Quasimodo continued to tell himself that stone cannot talk, stone is just that. Stone. The stone did not listen.
By mid April it became too much, Quasimodo rested his elbows on the parapet next to a gargoyle looking it over as he had done so many times before.
"You're only made of stone, yet is seems as though you have a voice. Either that, or I have been in this tower far too long. It has been a long time, you know. Master tells me I'm fourteen." Quasi turned away shaking his head. "Then why do I talk to you? You're not alive, you're not even a you, but rather an it. I am surely going mad." Quasi knocked on the head of the gargoyle with his huge fist. "You're only made of stone. Cold hard stone."
Quasimodo turned the gargoyle to face him looking into it's eyes. They blinked.
"Now I know I am mad."
Bemused, Quasimodo rubbed his eyes, then looked closer at the gargoyle through his right eye, which wasn't prone to playing tricks on him. The gargoyle was smiling, looking directly at him, through his eyes and into his soul.
Not being one to run, Quasimodo continued to watch the stone sculpture. To run from a monster would be a paradox; Quasimodo just stared at it, partly out of curiousity, partly because he didn't know what else to do. Slowly reaching out with his hand, Quasimodo watched as the statue's eyes followed his hand, the head turning ever so slightly as it approached it's wing. He held his hand above the moving sculpture, ever so closely, watching it watch him. Setting his hand upon the wing, the statue resumed it's stationery position.
It was clear something was not right, stone was moving. Solid stone, not paper mache' stone of the sort in the street. Real stone. While ringing the bells Quasimodo began to wonder if all the stones moved. Soon afterward, he left to find out.
Walking slowly around the outside of Notre Dame, Quasimodo listened closely. He let out a nervous laugh, should he be even the slightest bit happy he was hearing these voices? And to see stone move? Madness. Yet an answer had to be reached.
Soon after reaching the southernmost edge of the cathedral, Quasimodo heard a laugh, which he quickly followed. Any noise, barring that of the bells, would be of the stone chimeras. A short fat gargoyle sat on the edge of the stone barrier. It was the same as he always remembered, yet it was the only one there. Lifting it in his powerful arms he carried it to his tower where the other gargoyle sat motionless. Setting them side-by side, he became aware that they were not at all alike.
Quasimodo continued to walk about Notre Dame, looking for any others, yet found none. Standing infront of the gargoyles he stared into their eyes, alternating between the two.
"You can talk!" The gargoyles remained silent. "I know you can."
Quasimodo scanned each gargoyle repeatedly for the slightest sigh of movement. None. Making a fist he reached above the fat one and knocked on it's head. No movement. He knocked again, then a third time, nothing. The fourth time, a stone arm held back his fist. Quasimodo took one step back, his eyes wide with fear. The stone was alive, the stone moved. Quasi continued to step back in silence until his leg struck a wall.
The taller of the two turned toward the shorter, fatter one. "Well, there you go, you've ruined everything."
"It wasn't my fault. It hurts to be thumped on the head like that. Besides, if you hadn't moved earlier, everything would have been fine."
"And you're saying Laverne would have remained still?"
"She always has!"
"Unlike you, you stupid, fat..."
The gargoyles suddenly became aware of Quasimodo's presence. He was leaning against the parapet, eyes wide in disbelief. His teeth bit into his lower lip, his head shaking softly side to side. They hopped to face him, their stone bodies grinding heavily. The tall one spoke to Quasimodo first, holding his clawed hand to his chest proudly.
"Good day to you Quasimodo. I am Victor, and this is..." The fat one jumped off the parapet and moved toward Quasimodo as Victor spoke.
"...and I'm Hugo. The smart one. Hey, what's the matter Quasi? You've never been at a loss for words before! Open your mouth, say something. You're deaf, not dumb!" Quasi stepped away slightly as the small stone statue moved toward him. "I don't get it." The statue shrugged.
"Perhaps he's at a loss for words."
"Can't be. After fourteen years of talking to us..." Quasimodo slowly backed away and was soon gone into the North tower. "Hey, what gives?"
Quasimodo sat down infront of his model village, listening to the silence. Silence. His lip began to twitch slightly, jerking as to stifle the tears that may threaten to fall. His world had been silent for three weeks, now stone was talking to him and moving about. He lifted his figure from the model Cathedral and clutched it into his large hand. "What am I to do?"
Quasimodo leaned forward, his forehead pressed against his arm, his nose in the crook of his elbow. His mind began to race, thousands of thoughts streamed through at once, mixing themselves into a frenzy. Quasimodo felt a cold hand at his waist and through the corner of his eye caught the movement of two pigeons.
"There, there Quasi. We're here to help."
Quickly turning, his gaze met a third gargoyle, this one female. He nearly fell off of his stool, the gargoyle grasped his tunic, stopping his fall.
"You... you're stone. Stone can't talk. The bells... even if you can talk...which you can't...I would never hear you!"
The stone gargoyle moved closer to him, gently placing her hand on his knee. Quasimodo was beginning to relax, there was nowhere else to go. "We've been watching you since you came here, we're here to help you."
"Who is 'we'?" the bellringer was beginning to relax, yet his voice trembled slightly. "Why I heard you or seen you move before?"
"Quasi, Quasi, Quasi. We have always been as we are, it's just you have never noticed." Quasimodo's lip curled. For all these years, they'd listened, they were aware. "We never expected that you'd notice us, but after that ringing of yours on Low Sunday..."
Quasimodo began to realize what happened. The blood from his ears, the onset of a silent world followed by voices he'd never before heard. "Are you really here to help me?"
"We've always been."
"How many is 'we'?"
"Hugo, Victor and myself."
"...Laverne." Quasimodo stared off into space. The same gargoyles he'd talked to since a child, the gargoyles that had listened to his every sorrow, all his hopeless dreams. They had listened. "Only I hear you?"
"Only you and those who are aware of our presence."
"Frollo?" Quasimodo wrung his hands nervously.
"Birds, animals and the occasional soul, such as yourself. Claude Frollo sees us as stone."
Quasimodo breathed a slight sigh of relief and smiled at the stone gargoyle, who touched his cheek in a loving manner, a manner which he had never known. An onlooker may have been frightened at this scene, but at that moment Quasimodo felt something he had never felt before. Friendship.
Laverne, her right hand pulling the hair back from the left side of his face, her left gently on his cheek, looked into his eyes. Her hands were warm, her eyes sparkled with wisdom. Quasimodo smiled, a warm grateful smile. His good eye welled up a couple tears. "You're never alone Quasimodo."
The other two gargoyles soon moved into the belltower where Quasimodo and Laverne sat, conversing. Surrounded by talking stone, Quasimodo accepted that whether it was crazy or not, these friends were welcome. His world of silence suddenly became more bearable; he was no longer alone.
None of the gargoyles mentioned either his mother or how he had arrived in the tower, despite his asking. Rather, they placed their efforts into undoing Frollo's teachings. Quasimodo became accustomed to his new situation, carving, reading and ringing the bells on a set routine.
It soon came to pass that the gargoyles remained in Quasimodo's living quarters. Frollo disliked Quasimodo's strange new habit. Vocalising his displeasure, he soon came to ignore it as it prevented the need to convince Quasimodo to stay within the confines of the church.
Acting on the advice of Laverne, he began plugging his ears while he rung the bells. Quasimodo had initially disagreed, the damage had been done, what did it matter now? This partially blocked out the sound of the bells, completing his deafness even further. Yet when Quasimodo looked into her stone eyes, they told her her would be grateful of her advice.
By closing one's eyes one sees faint outlines of moving shapes, a whirling kalidioscope of colour and movement. Similarly, to plug one's ears is to hear what is not meant to be heard, the flicker of an eyelid, the motion of one's own pulse while still hearing the world around you. Imagine the world silent, no human voices, no wind through the trees or fluttering birds. Complete silence, where the spirit voice is clearly audible. To the average soul, these voices fall upon deaf ears. To the deaf ear, their voices cannot be ignored. It is these voices Quasimodo came to observe.
At the beginning, Quasimodo dismissed their sounds as his imagination. To hear voices now would be absurd, to hear voices from stone was lunatic. The bells only spoke when he pulled on the ropes, the stones were just that, stone. They did not move. Yet they seemed to mumble amongst themselves whenever he passed by or sat upon a rainspout to read a scroll, they seemed to move. The bits of sculpture, the chimeras and gargoyles could be heard whispering. Whispering? He no longer heard his master's shouting, much less a whisper.
Eventually, the bellringer began reading within the confines of the church, as to avoid the sounds outside the tower. At this point, they joined him. Quasimodo continued to tell himself that stone cannot talk, stone is just that. Stone. The stone did not listen.
By mid April it became too much, Quasimodo rested his elbows on the parapet next to a gargoyle looking it over as he had done so many times before.
"You're only made of stone, yet is seems as though you have a voice. Either that, or I have been in this tower far too long. It has been a long time, you know. Master tells me I'm fourteen." Quasi turned away shaking his head. "Then why do I talk to you? You're not alive, you're not even a you, but rather an it. I am surely going mad." Quasi knocked on the head of the gargoyle with his huge fist. "You're only made of stone. Cold hard stone."
Quasimodo turned the gargoyle to face him looking into it's eyes. They blinked.
"Now I know I am mad."
Bemused, Quasimodo rubbed his eyes, then looked closer at the gargoyle through his right eye, which wasn't prone to playing tricks on him. The gargoyle was smiling, looking directly at him, through his eyes and into his soul.
Not being one to run, Quasimodo continued to watch the stone sculpture. To run from a monster would be a paradox; Quasimodo just stared at it, partly out of curiousity, partly because he didn't know what else to do. Slowly reaching out with his hand, Quasimodo watched as the statue's eyes followed his hand, the head turning ever so slightly as it approached it's wing. He held his hand above the moving sculpture, ever so closely, watching it watch him. Setting his hand upon the wing, the statue resumed it's stationery position.
It was clear something was not right, stone was moving. Solid stone, not paper mache' stone of the sort in the street. Real stone. While ringing the bells Quasimodo began to wonder if all the stones moved. Soon afterward, he left to find out.
Walking slowly around the outside of Notre Dame, Quasimodo listened closely. He let out a nervous laugh, should he be even the slightest bit happy he was hearing these voices? And to see stone move? Madness. Yet an answer had to be reached.
Soon after reaching the southernmost edge of the cathedral, Quasimodo heard a laugh, which he quickly followed. Any noise, barring that of the bells, would be of the stone chimeras. A short fat gargoyle sat on the edge of the stone barrier. It was the same as he always remembered, yet it was the only one there. Lifting it in his powerful arms he carried it to his tower where the other gargoyle sat motionless. Setting them side-by side, he became aware that they were not at all alike.
Quasimodo continued to walk about Notre Dame, looking for any others, yet found none. Standing infront of the gargoyles he stared into their eyes, alternating between the two.
"You can talk!" The gargoyles remained silent. "I know you can."
Quasimodo scanned each gargoyle repeatedly for the slightest sigh of movement. None. Making a fist he reached above the fat one and knocked on it's head. No movement. He knocked again, then a third time, nothing. The fourth time, a stone arm held back his fist. Quasimodo took one step back, his eyes wide with fear. The stone was alive, the stone moved. Quasi continued to step back in silence until his leg struck a wall.
The taller of the two turned toward the shorter, fatter one. "Well, there you go, you've ruined everything."
"It wasn't my fault. It hurts to be thumped on the head like that. Besides, if you hadn't moved earlier, everything would have been fine."
"And you're saying Laverne would have remained still?"
"She always has!"
"Unlike you, you stupid, fat..."
The gargoyles suddenly became aware of Quasimodo's presence. He was leaning against the parapet, eyes wide in disbelief. His teeth bit into his lower lip, his head shaking softly side to side. They hopped to face him, their stone bodies grinding heavily. The tall one spoke to Quasimodo first, holding his clawed hand to his chest proudly.
"Good day to you Quasimodo. I am Victor, and this is..." The fat one jumped off the parapet and moved toward Quasimodo as Victor spoke.
"...and I'm Hugo. The smart one. Hey, what's the matter Quasi? You've never been at a loss for words before! Open your mouth, say something. You're deaf, not dumb!" Quasi stepped away slightly as the small stone statue moved toward him. "I don't get it." The statue shrugged.
"Perhaps he's at a loss for words."
"Can't be. After fourteen years of talking to us..." Quasimodo slowly backed away and was soon gone into the North tower. "Hey, what gives?"
Quasimodo sat down infront of his model village, listening to the silence. Silence. His lip began to twitch slightly, jerking as to stifle the tears that may threaten to fall. His world had been silent for three weeks, now stone was talking to him and moving about. He lifted his figure from the model Cathedral and clutched it into his large hand. "What am I to do?"
Quasimodo leaned forward, his forehead pressed against his arm, his nose in the crook of his elbow. His mind began to race, thousands of thoughts streamed through at once, mixing themselves into a frenzy. Quasimodo felt a cold hand at his waist and through the corner of his eye caught the movement of two pigeons.
"There, there Quasi. We're here to help."
Quickly turning, his gaze met a third gargoyle, this one female. He nearly fell off of his stool, the gargoyle grasped his tunic, stopping his fall.
"You... you're stone. Stone can't talk. The bells... even if you can talk...which you can't...I would never hear you!"
The stone gargoyle moved closer to him, gently placing her hand on his knee. Quasimodo was beginning to relax, there was nowhere else to go. "We've been watching you since you came here, we're here to help you."
"Who is 'we'?" the bellringer was beginning to relax, yet his voice trembled slightly. "Why I heard you or seen you move before?"
"Quasi, Quasi, Quasi. We have always been as we are, it's just you have never noticed." Quasimodo's lip curled. For all these years, they'd listened, they were aware. "We never expected that you'd notice us, but after that ringing of yours on Low Sunday..."
Quasimodo began to realize what happened. The blood from his ears, the onset of a silent world followed by voices he'd never before heard. "Are you really here to help me?"
"We've always been."
"How many is 'we'?"
"Hugo, Victor and myself."
"...Laverne." Quasimodo stared off into space. The same gargoyles he'd talked to since a child, the gargoyles that had listened to his every sorrow, all his hopeless dreams. They had listened. "Only I hear you?"
"Only you and those who are aware of our presence."
"Frollo?" Quasimodo wrung his hands nervously.
"Birds, animals and the occasional soul, such as yourself. Claude Frollo sees us as stone."
Quasimodo breathed a slight sigh of relief and smiled at the stone gargoyle, who touched his cheek in a loving manner, a manner which he had never known. An onlooker may have been frightened at this scene, but at that moment Quasimodo felt something he had never felt before. Friendship.
Laverne, her right hand pulling the hair back from the left side of his face, her left gently on his cheek, looked into his eyes. Her hands were warm, her eyes sparkled with wisdom. Quasimodo smiled, a warm grateful smile. His good eye welled up a couple tears. "You're never alone Quasimodo."
The other two gargoyles soon moved into the belltower where Quasimodo and Laverne sat, conversing. Surrounded by talking stone, Quasimodo accepted that whether it was crazy or not, these friends were welcome. His world of silence suddenly became more bearable; he was no longer alone.
None of the gargoyles mentioned either his mother or how he had arrived in the tower, despite his asking. Rather, they placed their efforts into undoing Frollo's teachings. Quasimodo became accustomed to his new situation, carving, reading and ringing the bells on a set routine.
It soon came to pass that the gargoyles remained in Quasimodo's living quarters. Frollo disliked Quasimodo's strange new habit. Vocalising his displeasure, he soon came to ignore it as it prevented the need to convince Quasimodo to stay within the confines of the church.
Acting on the advice of Laverne, he began plugging his ears while he rung the bells. Quasimodo had initially disagreed, the damage had been done, what did it matter now? This partially blocked out the sound of the bells, completing his deafness even further. Yet when Quasimodo looked into her stone eyes, they told her her would be grateful of her advice.