BELLE had too often heard Gaston boast of the day that he would marry her and take her for himself. She knew he would never let up in his attempts to secure her hand in marriage by coming to their cottage and insisting on speaking with her father, Maurice, about the matter, though Maurice had always turned the hunter down.
But considering how at Gaston's last visit had gone, her father had been on his deathbed. Poor Maurice had caught a chill thanks to a torrent of a thunderstorm that had not let up when he'd been at the marketplace. Maurice's chill had quickly turned into life-threatening pneumonia, he'd assented to Gaston's plea and had agreed to give the hunter his blessing to marry Belle.
Elated, Gaston had promised Maurice that he would not be sorry he had gifted him this great honor and that Maurice was sure to smile down from the heavens once he could see, even in death, how well his son-in-law was treating his beloved daughter. Belle would want for nothing.
His words had seemed genuine, his tone soft-spoken and polite, but Belle knew it all to be a farce. The moment Maurice had closed his eyes for the last time, his last breath plucked from his lungs, Belle, through her tears, had felt a wave of cold wash over her body.
Gaston had shouted to the whole village that their marriage was to take place within the month after Belle had time to bury and mourn her father. Even worse, the dreaded consummation of their union would occur the same night as the wedding, despite their age difference and Belle's obvious hatred for the skilled but quite arrogant hunter.
Belle had stormed away from their village towards the woods that lined the edge of their small provincial village, terror rooting itself deep in her stomach.
She did not think the day would come when she would actually find herself about to be married, let alone to a man like Gaston, a man who did not seem to have any love in his heart.
She dreamt of marrying as any girl did, of course, she did, but when she did marry, she wanted to marry a man out of love.
It was knowing that she would be the 'beautiful little wife' of the most sought after man in all of town by other women, and subjected to their jealous stares and harsh whispers.
The tow-headed idiotic women of their village would give their right pinky finger to wear Gaston's ring, and she was perhaps the only one in their village that wanted nothing to do with the prideful man. Belle could not bear marrying Gaston as her fate.
Let Gaston know that she had run from him, she thought she could make a run for it. She knew she could not stay here, she would rather risk homelessness in the woods and hope to come across a kind stranger willing to take her in than to marry Gaston and be miserable for the rest of her natural days.
A part of her wondered if she should do as the old Sword-Danes from the tales of old used to do and take a sword to her heart if there were no other option, but Belle quickly dismissed that as an idea. She was far too much of a coward to take her own life. She was above that.
Belle sat on the stoop of their home's entrance, her stomach churning and her heart pounding in her throat painfully as she wondered who she could possibly go to for advice.
Her confusion only lasted for perhaps a half second before a familiar name and face flashed before her mind's eye, searing into her brain until Belle could think of nothing else.
As hard as she tried to, the inventor's daughter simply could not rustle up the disgust and hatred for Gaston's best friend, LeFou, that she knew she should feel.
Though the two men were best of friends, she had seen the withering, rueful looks of disapproval LeFou would shoot Gaston when the hunter wasn't looking. She felt her cheeks turn hot and her stomach flutter as she wondered if he would help her to escape.
Perhaps it was because she had stuck up for LeFou a time or two when Gaston's teasing of his friend had gotten to be too much, or that she had introduced him to the baker's daughter, Iseult, whom he'd had eyes on. While the baker's daughter was not the most beautiful French Rose in their village, if not a bit homely, she had a sweet smile and a good heart, and more importantly, had opened that heart to LeFou.
Maybe, for LeFou's goodness, he deserved this chance to finally prove himself and redeem his one fault in that he could not let go of Gaston as a best friend.
Unless, the moment she fled his home, the man would run to the tavern to tell Gaston of her plea. Belle nervously chewed on her lips. Was it worth it to risk putting LeFou's life potentially in danger, for Gaston was notorious for having a bad temper when it was up?
She did not know what the man would do to him.
Belle, frustrated with herself and knowing she needed to leave while there was still daylight, got up from the steps and pulled her dark navy blue cape up tight over her shoulders.
Belle moved through the cobblestoned streets of their little village as swiftly and as quietly as she could. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord towards LeFou's home all the while her brain was screaming at her to turn back.
LeFou might not even be at home and if he were not, and Gaston or any other villager were to find her standing alone on LeFou's doorstep, it was sure to put them both in danger.
People would talk. But thankfully, just as their home did, LeFou's modest cottage was situated at the edge of the village, where everyone else seemed to mind their business.
With her cloak pulled up over her head, no one knew that it was her. Belle knocked on LeFou's front door and swallowed down hard. The sun had already set, the hour was late and dark, and he was without a doubt home, but LeFou could be out drinking with Gaston or calling upon the baker's daughter as they were rumored to marry within the fortnight.
Belle had no way of knowing and she found herself praying to the new Christian God that LeFou was both here and away.
She felt little beads of sweat break out along her hairline and her forehead. She could not wed Gaston. Anyone but Gaston. Belle quickly followed up her first knock quickly with another out of growing impatience and fear that she would be discovered. Her knocks were urgent and fast, to the point where her knuckles started to bleed as they scraped the wood.
Belle was in mid-knock, her fourth round of frantic taps on the door when thankfully it swung wide open. LeFou stood there, Gaston's best friend's mouth was slightly slack in surprise and the short, stout man had the impudence to furrow his brows in confusion at her.
"B-Belle, my lady, wh-what a pleasant surprise it is to see you. I am sorry for your loss, a-about Maurice, he will be missed," he blurted out, his words clumsy as he ran a hand through his long dark hair in nervousness. "I...Belle, f-forgive me, b-but…what are you doing here?" he mumbled, his cheeks flushing bright red in embarrassment and the young man's voice held a slight stutter to it, likely from nervousness at seeing her here unexpectedly.
Belle flinched as she saw LeFou remove a pudgy hand from a small dagger he wore at his side, she recognized the blade. Gaston had gifted it to the man on his last birthday, shortly after he had entered into his courtship with the baker's daughter as a congratulatory gift.
LeFou had clearly been expecting some sort of brawl when he had opened the door and it took her momentarily by surprise.
She blinked and forced herself to come back to herself a bit and shuddered.
"May I come in, LeFou? I-I have a favor to ask, and I do not intend to take up too much of your time tonight. I know it's late," she asked and swallowed down hard again past the lump now forming in her throat.
LeFou's frown of confusion deepened but he stepped to the side and opened the door wider and allowed Belle entry into his cottage.
Belle entered quickly and felt every fiber in her body tense up as LeFou closed the door behind him and bolted it shut. Her mouth, already dry, went dryer still as she turned to face Monsieur LeFou, who was striding across the two-room hut to set the small hunting knife down on the intimate circular table where he took his meals.
The room was dark, the only light source provided by the meager minuscule blaze in the fireplace. Other than that, the room was sparse, impersonal, and very nearly empty. Unlike Gaston, who preferred to collect worldly treasures and trinkets from his travels abroad, it seemed that the hunter's best friend was a man who owned very little possessions.
Belle appreciated that the space was free of unneeded things. She was ripped from her thoughts and her looking for the first time at LeFou's home by the man's voice reaching her.
"Why did you not go to Gaston for this favor, Belle? After all, he is the one you will be marrying, you will be his wife, you should learn to depend on him and trust him," LeFou blurted out, sounding hesitant and so unsure of himself as he leaned against the edge of his table for support.
Belle felt her cheeks burn. If she did not know Gaston's best friend any better, she would almost think the man knew her scheme, to beg him for his help in escaping, but it was clear from his posture and the expression on his face that he did not. He was not trying to get a rise out of her, but he was genuinely confused and even concerned as to why she'd come.
Belle let out a shaky breath before pushing forward as she thought for a moment.
She knew what she was about to ask would be a lot for Monsieur LeFou.
To go against his best friend, one of few people in the village besides herself, the baker's family, and the woman he would marry, who showed him any semblance of kindness and affection, would be as good as betraying him.
But she knew of no one else, now that her beloved Papa was at peace and hopefully reunited with Mama. Belle knew she wanted LeFou's help but she wanted to phrase her request in such a way that the man would be inclined to make his own decision to help her flee.
"I—I cannot marry Gaston, LeFou," she spoke smoothly as LeFou's brows rose.
The short stout little man moved towards the fire and kept his back to her for a moment, playing with the ends of his long dark ponytail as he thought a moment.
"You must be. I was in the tavern when he announced it to everyone. Your father gave his word. I know what you think of Gaston, Belle, b-but he's not so bad. You could give it a chance before you run away, don't you think?" he asked Belle plainly.
To his disappointment, she shook her head immediately, already sending his words away.
She would not give the man a chance. She blushed as she realized he knew.
Her intent must have been written all over her face and LeFou had guessed it. She knew she had been right to come to him for his help. The man was smarter than anyone, especially Gaston, gave him credit for, and hoped that one day, Gaston would see that, and LeFou would be free of the man's influence, able to make his own choices and speak and think for himself.
LeFou gave her a crooked lopsided smile as he turned back around to fully face her. She thought she saw the beginnings of understanding forming on the man's face, but he was not allowing himself to believe it.
"You want to run away. And so, you come here?" he asked, his black eyes slowly moving down the length of her slender body and then flicking back up to her face. "Where on earth do you think you're going to go once you go into those woods, Belle? Th-there are wolves in that ruddy forest, they would eat you up alive."
"You've been kind to me, LeFou," Belle started to say, but LeFou barked out a laugh.
"Me? Kind to you, Belle? I simply don't like seeing a beautiful girl being belittled by my best friend, or her father made a mockery of, but I would hardly call that a kindness," he snorted.
Belle swallowed, wondering if it had been a mistake to come to the man for his help. She felt her pride slightly wounded by his words. Why was Monsieur LeFou questioning this?
Surely, of all people, he could understand her reasons. Belle furrowed her thinly plucked eyebrows into a frown and raised her head, jutting her chin out in a slightly defiant manner.
"If it were the baker's daughter, LeFou, would you help her? Why am I any different, LeFou?"
LeFou's cheeks flushed red and the man's beefy neck had turned splotchy in anger. "Because the woman I love is not marrying my best friend, Belle. And my head, ugly though it is, is better left on my shoulders. W-with me about to marry myself soon, there is too much at risk by helping you flee the village, Belle. I-I want to help you, I truly do, b-but I can't. I'm sorry."
She felt her face burn with humiliation. He thought to send her away.
"I'm worth the risk, LeFou," Belle snapped with an angry bite to her voice that made LeFou look up in surprise as she fumbled through the small leather satchel that rested against her hip for a pouch of coins along with her precious few meager belongings she did own.
A copy of her favorite book was nestled comfortingly at the bottom of her bag as well as a rind of the cheese and a hard loaf of bread. It was not much food at all, but all they had in their home and it would have to do until she could find a kind soul who would take her in.
Perhaps she could find work somewhere... She came back to herself and looked to LeFou.
LeFou bit out another bitter laugh. He collapsed into the chair by the table and fingered the pouch of coins she'd given him. She could practically see the wheels in the man's head turning as he felt the pouch that contained most of Maurice's life savings, money he'd earned from his inventions and selling his trinkets at the annual Harvest Festival fair every year, though Belle had kept a small handful for herself, not knowing when she'd need it.
"I don't want your money, Belle, this is your father's life savings. Keep it, my lady," he protested, trying to give the coins back to her but she refused and stepped away, grabbing hold of her skirt to avoid tripping over the hem of her dress as she did so, shaking her head.
A cold feeling of dread settled over Belle and her mouth which was already dry, went dryer still as LeFou looked at her, seeming to be searching her face for something, though what it was, she did not know and grew confused.
"Where will you go?" he asked her, softly.
"Anywhere but here," Belle proclaimed passionately. "I could take you and your family with me, LeFou. You could start over anew."
LeFou let out a tired groan and shook his head, running his hand down the length of his face as he shot Belle an exasperated expression.
"I will help you, Belle, but I cannot leave the village. My family grew up here, and someday, I'd like my own family to live in this very house," he murmured, affection seeping its way to the surface of his voice as he took a moment to look around his threadbare home before flitting his gaze back to Belle again and becoming much more somber and serious. "If I am caught, Gaston will kill me," he whispered. "But…I see the way you look at him. I know that you would not be happy with him as your husband, Belle. I guess I could…" he trailed off, a light suddenly igniting in his black eyes. "There is perhaps a way out, but you will not like it, Belle, I promise you that much," he told her, shooting her a look pained as his face contorted in apologetic awe.
Belle hesitated and nibbled on the wall of her mouth as she searched Monsieur LeFou's face for a hint, any hint that the man was lying, but she could detect no malice or deceit in Gaston's best friend's icy stare now.
"What way? Will it keep me from having to marry Gaston?" she asked, hardly daring to believe it was true, that LeFou was actually willing to help her, yet the man was already getting to his feet and pulling his coat on over his shoulders, motioning for her to follow him.
She followed at his heels, curiously, feeling some hope beginning to swell within her chest.
"Yes. It might be possible for you to find work in the Prince's castle. Rumor has it his intended bride-to-be Circe threw out his latest maid after the man's wandering eye…er…looked." His cheeks reddened but he kept on talking. "The work would likely not be pleasant, but I overheard last night one of the cooks who work in the castle saying she'd been dismissed. Perhaps there is a chance you could take her place. You're pretty enough, and the land's Prince is fond of pretty faces, Belle." he blurted out, his cheeks reddening as Belle merely stared.
Belle fell silent as she thought over his words.
"You're dead if you stay, Belle," LeFou murmured quietly when she did not respond.
Belle did not know what he meant but that but she nodded slowly. She thought that this alternative LeFou was presenting her with was one that she could not refuse, given her circumstances. She thought that could deal with the pettiness of nobility if it meant freedom from having to call herself Gaston's pretty little wife.
"Monsieur LeFou," Belle whispered pleadingly, the man's name funny on her lips. "Take me to the Prince's castle."
LeFou nodded and stepped back, fastening the buttons of his coat and stooping at the waist to ensure the laces of his boots were properly tied, as he could be quite clumsy even on a good day. He paused for a moment, coughing once to clear his throat as he stood upright and straightened his gait, checking for his knife.
Once he was sure he had everything, he motioned for Belle to raise the hood of her dark navy-blue cloak. She did so and got the message as LeFou put a finger to his lips. She was to be silent as an owl and make no noise of any kind.
"Be quiet, Belle, and do as I tell you, down to the very letter," Monsieur LeFou told her in a stern voice.
Belle nodded her agreement but said nothing and struggled to keep up with the surprisingly lengthy and quick strides of Gaston's best friend, a feat in it itself considering the man was so very short. Her thoughts felt like they were reeling as Monsieur LeFou whisked her away from her prison and straight towards a brand-new prison.
Secretly, her hope inwardly dimmed. She was beginning to fear the very worst.