Quasimodo awoke to cold water running over his shoulders. Four hands over his back, four small, cold, hands. Voices, again with the voices. Voices he knew, which cursed Frollo aloud.

His eyes remained shut while he spoke back.

"Why did you leave me?"

Laverne spoke. "There is nothing we can do if we are out of reach, Quasimodo. We are not leaving the tower again, you're stuck with us for life."

"Frollo. It hurts. No more..." Quasimodo mumbled as he returned to his disturbed sleep.

Gypsies, a small group of them surrounded him, spitting and cursing. He couldn't get away from their mockery, their taunting. The evil gypsies would not leave him alone. A beautiful gypsy woman stepped out toward him and struck his face with a mallet.

"I left you to die, what demon allowed you to live?" Quasimodo tried to answer, to tell her he wasn't evil, but his mouth wouldn't move. The woman moved closer.

"Hideous devil spawn! I ask for a son and I am cursed with the likes of you, something not even human!" She continued to strike him until he fell to the ground. He continued to hear her taunting, her cusses and vile words while laying flat, unable to arise. His back ached, his throat burned with thirst.

Quasimodo awoke gasping for water. He bent over the water basin and drank ladel after ladel until his throat no longer burned. He then realized he had been stripped to the waist and his wound dressed and wrapped. He also noticed the three gargoyles at the foot of his cot. These harsh words had not been directed at him.

Laverne hopped nearer to his head and began to stroke his hair gently. "Glad the boy is finally awake. The bells need ringing and Frollo's coming."

"Frollo!" Quasimodo jumped from the bed, threw on his shirt and raced to the belfry. The Gargoyles positioned themselves in the tower, near to where Frollo would give Quasimodo his lessons and meals. At least one set of eyes on him at all times. It had worked 14 years ago and had yet to lose it's power over Frollo.

The Angelus began to toll, people entered Notre Dame, Claude among them. Quasimodo had finished ringing and had found a new place for his special carvings and scrolls before arriving on the main floor of his quarters. As Frollo walked in, he glanced twice at the scowling faces of the gargoyles. Having paused for a moment, he straightened himself and walked into the belltower.

"Good evening, Quasimodo."

"Good evening, Sir."

"My, my Quasimodo. You look distressed." Frollo smirked and opened his basket. "I only do what is best for you, Quasimodo. To mix with that crowd, to become corrupt and evil as any common peasant. Dear Quasimodo, I am saving you from the fires of hell, securing your gateway into heaven."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Master." Quasimodo clasped his hands and lowered himself to the floor below Frollo.

"You are forgiven." Frollo grasped Quasimodo's hump with his hand, causing the hunchback to shiver slightly, as he walked by toward the parapet.

After that day the gargoyles remained in the belltower of Notre Dame. Frollo laid no more beatings, verbal or otherwise, on Quasimodo for quite some time. The statues watched his every move in the towers, scaring Frollo from raising hand to his ward. Frollo thought they were demons, Quasimodo thought of them as friends when in reality they were just three bodiless spirits residing in regected stone guardians.

Fourteen years ago the Cathedral had come alive with spirits to protect the sanctity of the Church and save the life of an innocent child. The Cathedral had been alive, it's cloisters and sculptures showing movements and echoing faint noises to those willing to listen. Any gypsy claiming sanctuary that night would soon leave the Church out of fear, taking their chances with the soldiers instead.

The spirits, or angels if you prefer, had other lasting effects. Aside from protecting the bellringer from Frollo, they provided him with companionship and comfort in his solitude. Quasimodo did not care if he was mad or not anymore, if the happiness in his life was aresult of him losing his mind, so be it. Despite his irreverance, they preserved his sanity rather than rid him of it.

It was not until midsummer that Frollo resumed his contempt for the hunchback. Frollo arrived late one night after a failed attempt to find the Court of Miracles. Anger brewed within him as he climbed the stairs to the belltower. He arrived with a basket of provisions, setting it near the top step to Quasimodo's quarters. Frollo's anger was great, someone had to suffer.

Quasimodo sat at his table innocently carving at a piece of wood. Three gargoyles sat scattered around the room, Frollo met with their eyes. They were watching him. Frollo corrected himself. They were stone, just stone. Yet somehow, Claude Frollo could not harm the hunchback with them there, facing him. They were too heavy to move. Leaving the tower he returned to the Palais of Justice, to the dungeons. The "cowardly limping fool" would suffer instead.