Hello and Happy New Year to all! Sorry it took so long to update, but this was not an easy chapter to write. Many hours of reviewing the tape went into this. Enjoy! Also, I hope you have a happy Feast of Fools! We have our King of Fools. Hope you have yours!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. We can't reply individually to you anymore, but you're much appreciated! Since we took so long to update, this chapter is twice as long as the other two. Have a happy Sixth of January! (Isn't it ironic?)

And without further ado…

Chapter 3

What am I doing?

It was the next morning, and Erik was sitting alone in a dark corner of Esmeralda's tent, holding his cloak in his hands. His fingers ran over the material absentmindedly again and again while his thoughts harassed him. Don't do this, you fool!, his mind yelled at him. Are you having delusions that you're some kind of normal man who can simply walk around in broad daylight without causing a reaction?

But I'll be hidden, another part of his mind replied. There will be others who are looking to hide themselves in a setting like that, and no one will give it a second thought.

But they will! You KNOW they will! You cannot escape it! How many times must you deliberately walk over a bed of nails before you come to your senses and realize it only causes pain?

He clenched his fists around the fabric of the cloak in frustration.

"Erik?" Esmeralda poked her head in the tent.

"WHAT!"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his outburst, and she looked taken aback.

He shook his head. Good job, that voice taunted him again. Are you also determined to drive away the only friend you have left? He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "I apologize, mademoiselle," he said. "Sometimes my temper can get out of hand."

She visibly calmed down too, and nodded. "It's okay." Her expression turned to amused. "And call me 'Esmeralda'. I don't think I can handle anyone calling me 'mademoiselle', like I'm some kind of high class debutante."

He chuckled, relieved that she wasn't mad. "All right," he agreed.

"I came to tell you that we're leaving for the festival soon. Are you coming with us?" Her earring shook as she twisted her head in a questioning manner.

His demeanor became serious again. He took in a deep breath, his mind assaulting him again with its indecision. But despite the attempts of the part of him that was probably more rational, in the end the desire to go to a place where people wouldn't judge him or treat him differently because he was wearing a mask (at least for a little while) was too strong to resist.

He stood up and swung his cloak around him in one fluid motion. "Let's go."

I can't believe I'm here, Erik thought as he followed Esmeralda through the street. She'd been complaining about running late and that she might not make it in time. They were almost at the Festival, and already he could see tents of all colors set up in strategic spots around the area, streamers and decorations littering the streets and houses, and people bustling around in colorful outfits. Abruptly, he veered off from Esmeralda's trail. He paused just as he reached the entrance to an alley, taking deep breaths. Instinctively, he pulled his black hood further down his face. The idea of simply stepping out into a crowd was causing him anxiety. True, he'd never been keen on mingling with normal-looking people, but his stint at the opera house had only exaggerated his preference for isolation.

This is ridiculous, he thought. What am I doing? I can't be here. There's way too many people, and something's bound to happen. I'll just sneak back the way I came and figure out what to do next.

With that, he turned around and began making his way back toward the Court of Miracles, even though he had no clear intention of returning there. As his feet hit the pavement, he heard loud voices sing from where Esmeralda was headed:

Come one, come all

Leave your looms and milking stools

Coop the hens and pen the mules

Booming drums accompanied them. He winced at their screeching voices. He wondered idly if he'd ever again hear a decent singing voice.

Come one, come all

Close the churches and the schools

It's the day for breaking rules

Come and join the Feast of . . .

"Fools!" he heard Clopin's energetic voice call, accompanied by a joyous laugh. It was then that Erik saw two men dressed as jesters walking opposite to him. He immediately tensed up. But when they saw him, they broke into grins. One waved cheerfully, and the other whistled. "Now that's a good costume."

"Yeah," the other one added. "What are you going as, the Grim Reaper?"

Erik stared at them dumbfoundedly. He might have chuckled at the comparison if he wasn't so taken aback by their reaction to him. Finally, after a few seconds, he cleared his throat and said in the most serious tone he could muster, "It's me, monsieur, the Angel of Death." Inside, though, he was laughing. Nothing like a little self-mockery to start the day, he thought.

The men chuckled and continued on their way.

Erik smiled behind his mask. Grim Reaper, eh? Maybe going to the Festival wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps I could construct a makeshift staff with a sickle at the end of it, he thought amusedly.

His mind made up, he turned around again, this time in the direction of the Feast of Fools. His body-length cloak swirled with his swift motion, and he heard Clopin singing as he followed the two men:

Once a year we throw a party here in town

Once a year we turn all Paris upside-down

Every man's a king and every king's a clown

Once again it's topsy-turvy day

It's the day the devil in us gets released

It's the day we mock the pig and shock the priest

Everything is topsy-turvy at the Feast of Fools

Topsy-turvy!

Everything is upsy-daisy

Topsy-turvy!

Everyone is acting crazy

Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet!

That's the way of topsy-turvy day!

Erik felt good. He just had a conversation with strangers who actually complimented his appearance, and despite himself, he was excited at the thought of walking around at this celebration. As he got closer, he noticed that the festival was taking place right in front of an enormous cathedral. Notre Dame, he believed it was called. He'd heard from Garnier that it was a stunning piece of architecture. Hmm . . . he'd have to examine it closer once he reached the area.

Within minutes, he was standing at the threshold of the Feast of Fools. Standing with what he hoped was a confident demeanor, he eyed the party-goers. They all seemed too caught up in their drunken festivities to be aware of much of anything, he noted as a giggling couple passed him by. After taking in a few deep breaths, he took marched as firmly as he could muster out onto the decorated streets. And immediately he had to swerve to the left as his quick reflexes alerted him to a line of dancers that was about to trample him. The song they were singing grew in intensity.

Topsy-turvy!

Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!

Topsy-turvy!

Join the bums and thieves and strumpets

Streaming in from Chartres to Calais

Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy

On the sixth of January

All because it's topsy-turvy day!

Erik ducked behind a tent, cape swirling behind him, as a young girl cartwheeled past him. He smiled in spite of himself. This was what he'd been anxious over? Here he was out in the open, people all around him, and not one of them was staring at him in disgust or gasping in horror. Not one was even so much as pointing at him. He felt almost . . . invisible.

Drums signaled an urgency in the their tone as Clopin's voice began calling to the crowd.

Come one, come all!

Hurry, hurry, here's your chance!

See the mystery and romance!

Clopin was now dancing around a stern-looking, gray-haired man in a ridiculous bonnet who had just sat down on a throne-like chair looking down on the crowd. Erik chuckled as the man eyed Clopin like a person would eye a lump of mold whenever he would get near him. After Clopin jumped away from him, the man brushed himself off as if he'd just gotten dirty. This must be Frollo, Erik thought. He almost wished that custom of him being more lenient with the gypsies on this day was not in place. He would love to see Clopin snatched and hauled away.

Clopin continued singing as he leaped over some hooded man who was bending over and onto a stage.

Come one, come all!

See the finest girl in France

Make an entrance to entrance

Erik raised his eyebrows at that. As beautiful as his friend was, finest girl in France she was not.

Dance, La Esmeraldaaaa . . .

He held out the note dramatically until he was sure he had everyone's attention. Erik saw him hiding something in his fist and could guess that a disappearing act was soon to follow. Sure enough, at just the right moment, Clopin slammed his fist toward the floor crying, "DANCE!". A millisecond later, a burst of red smoke engulfed him, and in his place was Esmeralda's dancing form, tambourine in hand. They were pretty good, he had to admit. Only the very trained eye would have seen the trapdoor.

Everyone in the crowd, particularly the men, stared at Esmeralda in wonder as she danced skillfully across the stage. All except the man who was probably Frollo, who frowned and muttered something about a "disgusting display".

Esmeralda gave an almost imperceptible smirk, and then bounded across the stage and right over to Frollo.

The gypsies were fond of mocking him today, Erik noted from his place behind the tent as Esmeralda practically sat in Frollo's lap. She came in closer and made like she was going to kiss him. Erik had to smile at her bravery. Shock was written all over the priest's face. But as she leaned in almost to the point of touching him, his eyes stared at her with a look of . . . longing?

Erik raised an eyebrow under the mask. He knew that look well.

With a thump, Esmeralda broke the spell by pushing Frollo's hat down over his face and quickly leaping back to the center of the stage. The priest's eyes now blazed with rage.

Very interesting, Erik thought.

Esmeralda finished up her dance in a flourish of acrobatics. As the audience cheered and threw coins, Clopin came back on stage, grinning wildly. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pièce de résistance!"

Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for

Here it is! You know exactly what's in store

Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore

Now's the time we crown the King of Fools!

As Clopin pointed out the man–who did indeed look rather foolish–who had won the contest the previous year, Erik watched the audience start nudging each other with devious looks in their eyes, and he sighed. From his experience, entertainment set-ups by the gypsies normally involved humiliating someone defenseless. He had a bad feeling about this.

So make a face that's horrible and frightening

Make a face that's gruesome as a gargoyle's wing

For the face that's ugliest

Will be the King of Fools!

Erik's stomach lurched. He ducked further behind the tent. What!

The crowd broke out into a chant as Clopin began scanning the crowd for potential participants. "Ugly folks, forget your shyness! You could soon be called Your Highness!" he called. "Put your foulest features on display! Be the king of topsy-turvy day!" People in costumes started climbing onto the stage.

The rage within Erik was growing, and his hands clenched into fists. He knew it. He knew he shouldn't have come here. People cannot be trusted. But what really hurt was when he saw Esmeralda joining in, pulling some man onto the stage who was wearing a mask shaped like a distorted human face. His supposed friend. How could she?

"Hey." A nearby man in a blue cloak staggered over to Erik. He nudged him with a drunken grin on his face. "Why don't you go up there? You're ugly enough."

The man's scream was drowned out by the audience's shouting as his body was hurled against the side of a building.

The contest was now underway. About ten men were lined up, all sporting masks. One by one, Esmeralda pulled them off and the men proceeded to grimace, growl, pull on their faces–all in an attempt to make themselves look frightening. The crowd wasn't impressed and booed louder with each person.

Erik had seen enough. He pulled his cloak further around him and started thinking of possible places he could go to. He had no desire to return to the Court of Miracles. And he had even less desire to return to the Opera Populaire. Leaving Paris altogether was probably the best idea.

A sudden gasp from the crowd pulled him out of his musing. His eyes turned back to the stage. Only the young man with the distorted human-shaped mask remained. Esmeralda stood next to him with her eyes wide as saucers, pure shock all over her face. The people in the audience looked absolutely terrified. Women shrieked, and some had their hands over their mouth. All were staring in fear at the man whose mask was twisting into an expression of confusion.

Wait a minute. Twisting?

"That's no mask!" exclaimed a man who was near the stage, pointing.

"It's his face!" cried a woman.

"He's hideous!" another exclaimed.

"It's the bellringer from Notre Dame!" shouted a man on the other side of the crowd.

Erik's mouth dropped, hitting against the inside of his mask. If the people could have seen his face, he was sure it would have looked as shocked as everyone else's. He took a closer look at this man. The shape of his face was exaggerated so that it looked almost like a triangle, not leaving much room for a forehead. His nose was enormous, as if it would swallow up his whole face. Over his left eyebrow, there was a bulge that nearly covered his eye. His red hair fell absentmindedly over the other one. His ears stuck out and were slightly pointed. His teeth were misshapen and out of place. And a large hump on the right side of his back caused him to hunch forward permanently.

This was what he actually looked like?

The man was covering his face with his hands in embarrassment and pain while Clopin bounded to the front of the stage, holding up his arms in a "hold on a second" gesture. "Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic," he implored the crowd, apparently trying to regain control. "We asked for the ugliest face in Paris, and here he is!" His face became animated again as he produced a jester crown and placed it on the man's head. "Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

The crowd appeared to think this over, and slowly their expressions turned from frightened to grinning.

"Yes!" Clopin encouraged the now cheering audience. "We now have the ultimate King of Fools! Let's celebrate! Everybody!" He leapt off the stage as people began climbing up to grab the man, now identified as Quasimodo, to hoist him into the air.

Once a year we throw a party here in town

Once a year we turn all Paris upside-down

Once a year the ugliest will wear a crown

We never had a king like this

And it's the day we do the things that we deplore

On the other three-hundred and sixty-four

Once a year we love to drop in

Where the beer is never stopping

For the chance to pop some popinjay

And pick a king who put the "top"

In topsy-turvy

Topsy-turvy, mad-and-crazy

Upsy-daisy, topsy-turvy day!

Erik was frozen to his spot, a million emotions flying around in his head. He felt a connection to this young man because of their shared deformity, which was an entirely unusual feeling. However, he also felt a confused emotion on watching these revelers hail him as their "king" and chant his name. It was almost like disgust. Or betrayal. Exposing himself like that was a concept Erik's brain hadn't come close to entertaining in years. What in the world would possess this man to do such a thing?

But these thoughts had barely been formed when he saw a tomato fly through the air and hit Quasimodo. Then another came from a different part of the crowd. Then another. And another. Although the man had looked like he was flying high in jubilation just a minute before, he now looked terrified. Anguish seen clearly on his face, he attempted to flee the stage.

"Where're you going, Hunchback? The fun's just beginning!" called someone from the crowd. He threw a lasso, which caught Quasimodo by the neck, pulling him down onto the hard wood with a thud.

More and more ropes appeared from the spectators, capturing the frightened man until he was tied down onto a spinning wheel that was on the platform. "Master!" Quasimodo cried. "Master! Please help me!" He looked pleadingly in the direction of Frollo, who responded by sneering and turning away in disapproval.

Master? The word itself left a bad taste in Erik's mouth. He felt a twinge of pity for this deformed man, for he well remembered how it felt to be publicly humiliated in this manner. Should he make an attempt to help him? He was the one who had made himself this vulnerable. He'd even allowed himself to take part in such a degrading contest when he must have known the consequences. He almost deserved what he got.

The crowd suddenly grew silent. A lone figure was climbing up the stairs to the platform of Quasimodo's shame. Esmeralda! Quasimodo noticed her and flinched as if he thought she had decided to come and torment him from up close now. Erik could see the compassionate expression on her face even from his remote location. She approached the hunchback slowly, and he could hear her speaking in a soothing voice even though he could not make out the words. She took off a piece of fabric tied around her waist and used it to wipe off some of the tomatoes from Quasimodo's face. Quasimodo gazed at her like she was an angel from heaven sent to rescue him.

It was making more sense now. This was the girl that Erik knew. So why had she participated in that cruel contest, he wondered. She must not have realized how debased it was, or perhaps she'd had a lapse in judgment.

"YOU! Gypsy girl! Get down at once!"

Everyone turned in the direction of the voice that had just called out. Frollo was now standing, his finger pointing angrily at the scene in front of him.

"Yes, your honor," Esmeralda replied with restrained disdain as the title passed through her lips. "Just as soon as I free this poor creature."

"I forbid it!"

There was tension in the air as the two stared at each other in fierce determination, Esmeralda looking at the man who had been hunting her people down like they were unwanted insects, and Frollo looking at one of the objects of her pursuit.

In a flash, Esmeralda grabbed a knife that was fastened to her leg and cut the ropes that held Quasimodo down.

The crowd was aghast. Erik couldn't help admiring her courage.

Frollo's eyes blazed. "How dare you defy me," he told her, his voice rumbling.

Esmeralda stood up to her full height and set her jaw. "You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people!" she called. "You speak of justice, but you are cruel to those must in need of your help!"

"Silence!"

"JUSTICE!" Esmeralda raised the knife over her head in almost a rally call.

The spectators were beside themselves with gasps and shocked outcries. Erik was almost positive he saw one woman faint. They had probably never seen someone so unabashedly disobey Frollo before

"Mark my words gypsy, you will pay for this insolence,"Frollo angrily yelled toward Esmeralda shaking his finger.

"Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool," she stated, bowing gracefully to him. "The only fool I see is YOU!" She snatched the crown off the hunchback's head and threw it at Frollo.

Frollo glanced down at the crown at the ground in front of him, then barked, "Captain Phoebus, arrest her!" to the horseman at his right. With a snap of his finger, more horsemen started advancing to the platform where Esmeralda and the hunchback now stood.

So it had come to this point. Esmeralda looked thoughtful, and pointed a finger at each of the guards, mumbling under her breath. "So there's ten of you and one of me. What's a poor girl to do?" Her voice became frightened and she appeared to start crying. The guards were getting closer and closer. In fact, one was almost in the position of seizing her. Erik wondered what she was doing. He knew this display of defeat was a ruse. But when he saw her pull a blue handkerchief out of her shirt, he suspected that there was some powder in it which would assist in making a dramatic escape.

Just as a guard was reaching out his weapon to take her in, she blew her nose in the handkerchief, releasing the powder. An explosion of red smoke concealed her exit.

"Oh, boys . . . over here," came her mocking voice. A second later, she and her goat were over on the execution scaffold. And a second later, she was off and running. Guards from every segment of the festival chased her. The crowd, which had been astonished at her escape from the platform, was now cheering her on.

After a few near misses with the guards, Esmeralda and the goat were hoisted high on top of the structures that people were playing music in by two gypsies on extremely high stilts. Esmeralda wasted no time in spinning a big piece of maroon fabric around herself, and she and the goat disappeared underneath it. The gypsies played it off like just another show they were putting on, pulling off the fabric to reveal that she wasn't there anymore and striking a pose with accompanying dramatic music.

Frollo was seething. He turned around and glared daggers at Quasimodo as if this was all his fault. Quasimodo (who had not moved from his position on the platform all the while during Esmeralda's daring escape) responded by looked ashamed. Frollo then climbed up on a black horse and turned to the horseman who he had spoken to before. "Find her, captain!" he rumbled. "I want her alive!"

"Yes, sir," the guard, aforecalled Phoebus, replied obediently and promptly ordered his men to find Esmeralda. The guards began canvassing the crowd, shoving people of the way in the process.

Frollo rode his horse over to Quasimodo, a piercing glare still on his face. Quasimodo flinched as if he was about to hit him. Then cringed with shame covering his whole demeanor.

The crowd jumped away in fright as Quasimodo leapt off the platform. Erik shook his head at the scene in front of him. The way Frollo could control Quasimodo without even a word made him want to spit. What hold could this . . . man possibly have over Quasimodo? And the pained way he looked at the people's repulsed faces as he stumbled over toward the huge entrance to Notre Dame as if he was surprised at their reaction to him. It was like he had never experienced something like this before.

Wait. Never experienced something like this before . . . .

"Hey, you!"

The loud voice was right behind him. Erik turned slightly to see what was going on. There were three guards standing about twenty feet away from him. The one on the left was pointing directly at . . . him.

What, did they think Esmeralda was going around donning a mask and a cape?

"The fire at the opera house!" the man exclaimed. "That's him! That's the man who started it! He's wanted for murder!"

Or not. Erik quickly assessed his surroundings and thought, Time for me to make a daring escape of my own.

Esmeralda strained to see through Djali's fur and the blue cloak around her head. Her back also ached a little from hunching over like an old man. But she wouldn't have to endure this disguise for long; just as soon as she could get inside Notre Dame she would be safe.

Well, relatively safer, at least.

I feel so bad about that poor man, she thought. If I had known that that was his real face, I would have never pulled him onto the stage!

Someone bumped into her, so she had to make a quick balancing act so Djali would not fall off her head. In doing so, she turned to the right, and her eyes caught sight of a man in a white mask dressed in black who had three guards chasing him.

Erik! What were they chasing him for! Her anger flared up against Frollo. What gall he had, treating people like dirt just because they were a little bit different from him and didn't fit into his vision of the perfect society. She did not regret what she said to him at all, even though she was now possibly running for her life. It was past time for someone to stand up to him. His position as judge did not give him the right to do this.

Suddenly, Erik turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows cast by several tents that were side by side. The guards turned the corner a few seconds later and stopped when their target wasn't in sight. One checked that shadowy area between the tents, but Erik was no longer there. They looked around the area a bit, but didn't see anything. Frustrated, they continued their search straight ahead.

Satisfied that Erik had gotten away, Esmeralda resumed her search for Notre Dame, now that she had lost her bearing. There! Up ahead was Notre Dame, the place where criminals could find sanctuary.

Just as it caught her eye, she could have sworn she saw a piece of a black cloak vanish into the open door.

I know a lot of this chapter seemed to be just retelling the movie. But this stuff needed to happen in the story. It'll get more different after this.