Forte's Elegiac of Exaltation ch2

By the end of the afternoon, the reception hall was beginning to take on a kind of holiday glow as rows and rows ribbons red, gold, and green were strung from one corner to the next, while decorations galore dangled and sparkled from one end of the room to the other. Denise and Adam both took part in helping with the decorations and were thrilled to have their mother join in and offer a hand. Their father never actually partook in the task of decorating, but was always pleased to take a little time and listen the stories the children told about what happened during the yearly event.

"Momma?" Denise quietly asked as she handed her mother, who stood on a ladder, a delicate string of silver bells. "Can we do something special for Monsieur Forte since this is his first Christmas with us?"

Belle kept her attention on hanging the string of bells, though her eyes did widen a bit hearing Denise's request. Christmas and Forte combined, was a sour memory for Belle, and now her very daughter wants to do something 'nice' for the man who tried to collapse an entire castle down on her and her would be husband? Slowly a soft smile crossed Belle's face. "What exactly did you have in mind for the maestro?"

"I don't know," the furry faced girl confessed as she began to have a far away look in her eyes. "I was hoping you would have an idea."

Belle came down the ladder; she had an idea. "Let's go talk to Forte and see if there are any holiday traditions he likes. I'm sure there is something about Christmas that he enjoys."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As Belle and Denise walked into the chapel they were both surprised that the room was absolutely and eerily silent. In the past, whenever the eccentric musician would get upset, which always seemed to be the case, he would retreat into his world of music. The more upset he was, the louder he played; but strangely, not this time. When they walked inside they immediately saw in the first row of pews a dark form of a thin man kneeling by himself. As they quietly came up to him, they could see he was holding a wooden rosary between his folded hands, thumbing the beads one at a time silently mouthing the words to his prayers. Immediately Belle put her hand out to stop Denise from disturbing Forte who humbling obeyed with a quiet nod.

Belle's other hand went up to her mouth, as she felt a twinge of uneasiness creep up her spine; religion was a touchy subject for her, ever since her mother died. She passed away just as Belle was taking an interest in faith, and her father's first reaction to the sudden loss of his wife was to blame God the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost; the pope, the priests and nuns in their home town, and all the saints, even the ones whose name's he had forgotten. For years after her mother's death, any mention of church or anything related to religion would make Maurice close down and withdraw from everyone. He stopped going to mass, and since he wasn't going, neither did Belle. Over the years Belle lost all serious interest in the Catholic faith, and was relieved to marry a man who felt very much the same way. Sure, there was a God, neither one disputed that, but just who or what god is, was a mystery that perhaps someday in the future they could explore a little closer.

Form where she stood, Belle studied Forte's rosary and even though it was nothing like her mother's, the sight of it, brought back fresh new memories she had long forgotten. Until now, Belle could only vaguely remember what her mother looked like, what she wore, or the sound of her voice. She did recall however, it was her mother who taught her to read and gave her the first book she ever owned; now, seeing Forte kneeling quietly and holding his rosary in such a reverent way, jarred more memories of her mother buried deep inside her mind. Bitter sweet memories of watching her mother kneel by her bedside every night holding her rosary as she prayed her nightly prayers. Then, came the sad and painful memories of seeing her mother's cold corpse laying at rest, holding the precious rosary between her hardened fingers as Belle said goodbye to her as to lid to her mother's coffin was closed shut.

Belle took a deep painful sigh, which caught Forte's attention. He lifted his head, and slowly turned to see the mother and daughter standing there patiently waiting for him to finish. He put his rosary away in his coat pocket, and stood, but backed away a little to preserve his space. "My ladies," he spoke cool and politely. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Monsieur Forte," Belle began. "We were wondering if there is something we could do this Christmas to make it feel special for you?"

For a moment the man stood there speechless, looking at them with a dull and dreary expression. "Yes. You can cancel it."

He then scooted out from the pew and began to walk away, heading toward the iron spiral case that led to his loft. Belle rolled her eyes, putting her hands on hips and raised her voice loud enough so he could hear. "Isn't there something, anything you like about Christmas?"

Forte stopped in his steps and whirled around, lifting his hands high enough to show the women his empty palms. "Other than waiting for it to end, I can't think of anything." he shrugged exasperatedly.

Denise stepped up with a bright look in her brown eyes. "What about all the wonderful smells in the air at Christmas time? The smell of newly fallen snow and fresh cut pine. The, the smell of roast turkey and venison. Or, maybe the of cloves, and cinnamon and, and pumpkin pie."

Suddenly Belle had an idea, "Monsieur Forte, when you were a child, what did you eat on Christmas day?"

His expression went blank again. "Turnips," he replied drily, just before he turned around again and took his first step up the staircase.

"Anything else?" Belle sounded to almost plea with him. He stopped in his steps and peered over the black iron rail.

"Nothing else. Just turnips, as any other day, your highness." This time he paused waiting for her response. Even though Belle grew up in humble conditions, her and her father had always been able to eat well; it was hard to imagine a family who ate nothing but turnips everyday.

"Well Forte, can you tell us of any traditions or customs your family had at Christmas time that you'd like us to do here in the castle this year?" He looked down at his feet, as he pondered her question, then back at her.

"My dear Belle, I grew up in an orphanage, and I assure you we did not celebrate Christmas. Outside of mass of course, but none of this, this…nonsense you here in the castle consider to be Christmas." Then once more, he trotted up the steps to perch in his loft.

'Orphanage?' Belle repeated to herself in mild surprise. She then noticed how seemingly pleased Forte was with himself, as he made his way to his bench. Stubbornly she refused to give up and quickly followed behind him. Forte all but ignored her as he opened an air vent that Belle's father actually invented specifically for Forte, which allowed a constant flow of air from the cellar furnace into his organ, making it possible for him to play his music without an assistant. Even though he knew perfectly well Belle was standing there, he made no attempt to acknowledge her presence as he began to softly play. His tune was as soft as a whisper, and as delicate as the chiming of bells made of glass; not his usual dramatic or angsty melodies that left a person to feel as if they had been assaulted. Belle stood close to Forte's side, speaking gently. She could see his eyes were closed. "Monsieur Forte, I never knew you were an orphan."

He cracked his eye open just a little, peeking up at the princess's long sad face. "Well, now you do," he quietly mused as he closed his eye again and began hitting the keys just a bit harder.

By now, Denise decided to come up the stairs in her own way of course; which was to jump up on the edge of iron rail, and leap up from one level of the spiral case to the next, climbing it in three easy pounces. The noise of Denise's heavy claws clinking on the black iron broke Forte's concentration and so he stopped playing, looking at bit frustrated at her when she landed on his loft and then sat down on the floor like a dog. "Maestro, didn't you ever get any gifts at Christmas?"

The man let out an uncomfortable sigh as he tried to answer the question. "E-e-eh…Well, technically I suppose I did. Although they were never wrapped, but usually Christmas day was when we were given a new set of clothes. They weren't actually 'new' clothes, but they were new to us."

"Well, we'll see to it that you get something new this year, Maestro. Really new." Denise proudly assured him with a smile.

"I don't care about any of that," he scoffed irritably and squirmed as he turned back to play a new tune. Still quiet and soft but very grim like what you would hear at someone's funeral.

"Well, I still want you to play something for me, maestro." Denise reminded him in an authoritative tone, but as she heard the droll music he was playing now, it made think twice. "M-m-maybe something more…lively?"

Forte opened his eyes and sneered, but continued to play his gloomy music. He then closed his eyes again, but the sneer was replaced with a serene and pleasant smile. "So princess, tell me, what is Christmas all about?"

Denise's eyes brightened. "It's about that wondering feeling you get when you wake up and find all the gifts under the tree."

Forte's smiled broadened. "Anything else?"

Belle put her arm around her child as she answered the question. "It's about being with your family, and your loved ones, Monsieur Forte."

Forte's expression did not change as he continued to play his tune with his eyes closed. "Anything else?"

Denise answered; "Its the stories we share, the music, the laughs and the friendship."

Still, Forte seemed amused though unsatisfied with their answers. "Anything else?"

Belle smiled, she thought she figured out Forte's riddle. "It's the joy you give to other's on Christmas day. To watch the children's eyes light up and watch the older people relax with a warm cup of cheer."

Instantly Forte's music stopped; he opened his eyes and turned to look directly at Belle and Denise with an unmistakable air of condescension. Obviously their well intended answers hadn't pleased him. "Any-thing -else?"

Both women looked at each other. What else could he be referring to? He waited a moment until it was clear they had no response. "Well then," he shot his nose in the air, his eyes batting with a nervous twitch as his voice dripped with self-righteous conceit. "Perhaps I do need to write something for you after all dear child."

"Monsieur Forte," Belle asserted herself as politely as she could. "I just want this Christmas to be as pleasant and enjoyable as it can possibly be for everyone in the castle. Can I count on you to at least show some cooperation?"

Forte's naturally curved eyebrow cocked, an he spoke almost seductively. "But of course, your highness. You can count on me to bring to true meaning of Christmas to this castle once and for all."

Belle gave him a suspicious look. Deep down she knew Forte was being quite rude, because Forte was only this polite when he was being his rudest. "Very well, Monsieur Forte; if you feel that is something you need to do, by all means do so. We start the celebrations on Christmas eve. Can I count on seeing you at the party then?"

"Oh absolutely!" he assured her with a cheeky grin. "I promise I'll be there with rings on my fingers and bells on my toes."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Belle asked her husband Prince Adam as they sat together next to the fireplace enjoying their evening glass of wine and a good book.

Adam shook his head a little, "Not sure, he's quite a mysterious fellow isn't he? All the years I've known him, he never mentioned he was an orphan."

Belle sighed softly, thinking about how Forte described what Christmas had been like in his childhood. Nothing cruel or abusive apparently, just nothing very jovial or bright or even special.

"I know," she suddenly perked up with a smile. "We'll see to it that Forte gets the best Christmas he ever imagined."

"Belle," Adam smirked, "As far as Forte is concerned, I have a feeling the best Christmas, would be no christmas."

"We'll see about that." Belle smirked back as if she was accepting a challenge.