Chapter Three- In which Kurt fate is determined through democracy...
Kurt awoke suddenly to the sound of close-harmony singing. Shockingly-gone was the cold forest floor, the shadows of trees, the dreadful howling wind. Instead-he lay on something very soft and pleasantly warm. Behind his closed eyes-there was definitely light, natural sunlight, uninterrupted by branches and leaves. All he could hear was those sweet, harmonious voices…
He opened his eyes. He was in a room, a long, cosy room, with walls painted yellow, and flowers on each of the…Kurt counted seven little bedside tables. There were pictures of various singers framed, above each of the…Kurt counted seven beds. One bed had Maroon Five, another Brittany Spears, another Adele, another a dancer: Gene Kelly, another Kermit the Frog, another Journey, and the one he lay on had a large poster of Aretha Franklin.
Kurt was confused-how did he get here? Where was he?
Suddenly, the door opened slightly. A voice gasped-and ran away. Kurt strained his ears to hear whispering-then footsteps. Into the room came seven…ordinary people, of different shapes and sizes, wearing different types of clothes and were different skin-tones and races-one was in a wheelchair-but the thing they all had in common was the expression of interest as they gathered around Kurt's bed.
"Who is it?" one asked, as if Kurt could not hear or understand them.
"What is it?"
"He's so pretty!"
"Beautiful,"
"He looks better than he did when we found him last night,"
"Can we keep him? Pleeeeease can we?"
"Good morning," The one in the wheelchair with glasses was the first to address Kurt directly. "How are you?"
Kurt was too scared to speak.
"Bless him, he looks so frightened!" A curvy black girl smiled kindly at him.
A Hispanic girl with a slightly bitchy expression shoved the others back a little. "Give the boy some air-space,"
"Pleeeeeeeeease can we keep him?" a tall, skinny blonde girl with a slightly out-of-it expression pleaded.
"Hello," said an exceptionally tall guy with short, brown hair and a long face. "What's your name?" he asked, as if speaking to a younger sibling.
"I…I'm Kurt Hummel," Kurt answered him, a slight quiver in his pure, high voice.
"Don't worry, Kurt, we'll look after you," The curvy black girl patted his arm comfortingly.
"So can we keep him?"
"Shut up, Brittany,"
"Hang on," A guy with a strong Irish accent piped up. "The Kurt Hummel? The one Queen Rachel is searching for?"
There was an outburst of gasps and muttering, as they looked at one another worriedly.
"Why is she looking for you?" a tall Asian boy, who couldn't seem to keep still, asked curiously.
Kurt gulped, recalling the incident in the forest with the mohawked huntsman. "I don't know…but she's already sent someone to kill me,"
There were more gasps and looks of horror.
"How did you escape?"
Kurt told them the story of his adventure last night. Their eyes grew wider.
"So he just dragged you off to kill you?"
"Yes. But he let me go" Kurt still couldn't believe his luck.
"I couldn't. That'd be like stabbing Bambi," The girl still had her hand on Kurt's arm. The others nodded in agreement.
"You're not safe out there on your own," said the tallest boy. "Stay with us,"
"Uh-hello?" the Hispanic girl cut in. "There's no way. If the Queen is looking for him, and we're found to be hiding him…"
There was a pause as the others digested this opinion.
"Uh uh uh, hell to the no, Santana. He wouldn't last five minutes,"
"Yeah, there must have been a reason that fairy showed us to him," the guy in the wheelchair offered. "I agree with Mercedes,"
"The blind drunk fairy…" the one called Santana muttered, rolling her eyes.
Kurt blinked-April?
"She was being totally inappropriate anyway-I mean, can seven people live together in a small house in an enchanted forest without being dwarfs? No, according to her…" the girl spat.
"But we gotta take care of him. We can't just leave him,"
"All in favour of keeping him," said the one called Brittany, putting her own hand up right away. Five other hands followed into the air. And, after some pleading looks and puppy eyes from the blonde to the Hispanic, she eventually put hers up too, rolling her eyes.
"Are-are you sure?" Kurt asked timidly. He felt a little awkward.
"Of course you can stay," the one called Mercedes said, squeezing his arm.
Kurt smiled gratefully, overwhelmed by their kindness (sigh). "Oh, thank you! Whatever can I do in return?"
"Well, you can help out around the house-ow!" the tallest guy said as someone elbowed him.
"You don't have to," Mercedes told him.
"No! No, it would be my pleasure!" Kurt cut in, nodding enthusiastically. "The least I could do!"
And so, the arrangement began. Kurt lived with the seven Glee clubbers, safe from Queen Rachel. Every morning, the Glee clubbers went out to work, doing their various jobs, and every morning, Finn would warn Kurt never to leave the house. Then, Kurt would happily spend all day washing clothes, sweeping floors and generally tidying up. A dramatic transformation occurred in the once "organised mess" state of the house. Everyone loved Kurt-no where was there a sweeter boy, and he couldn't do enough for them. One day, he surprised them all when he produced fabulous new outfits that he'd been secretly working on, one for each of the seven, carefully tailored to their own styles-but Kurtified. They became very close very quickly, and were great friends.
In addition, true to his fairytale character, Kurt made friends with the woodland creatures through the window (groan). He had a way with animals, and they all loved him, all the squirrels, rabbits, birds and deer that he met. As soon as they heard him sweetly singing, they would flock and scurry to the window, listening eagerly. One particular little yellow bird with soft yellow feathers and a neat little beak loved him especially. Kurt nicknamed him Pavarotti, because of the way he sang joyfully all day long. Pavarotti would fly through the window the minute Kurt opened the curtains, and perch on his shoulder all day. They sang endless duets and laughed together as Kurt worked.
Kurt had never been happier. But despite all his new friends…he was lonely.
"Oh, Pavarotti, you're such a good friend to me! Can I tell you something?" he asked the bird one day as they dusted the bedroom. Pavarotti cheeped his answer, leaning in closer to show he was listening.
"I love my life here, with the guys, and the animals-and you, of course," Kurt gently stroked his silky feathers-then sighed. "But, sometimes…this is so silly, you'll probably laugh!" Pavarotti whistled his encouragement.
"Sometimes…well, a lot of the time…I wish…" Putting down the duster, he went over to the window and looked out, the weak sun making his hair even shinier, glistening on his snowy skin. "I wish…I wish the man of my dreams would just swoop me up in his arms and carry me away!" Leaning on the windowsill on one elbow, he sighed deeply. "I wish I had a loving, kind man to take care of me, and love me…I dream about it all the time…My knight in shining armour…"
Pavarotti cheeped, nipping his cheek affectionately. Kurt watched the trees swaying in the gentle breeze.
"It'll happen, Pavarotti," he smiled hopefully. "I know he'll come,"
"Schuester, Schuester on the wall, who's most talented of them all?" Queen Rachel looked in to the gold-framed mirror, smiling smugly. She glanced at the little wooden box containing the heart that Puck had bought back, grinning to herself.
The smoke-filled mirror cleared, and Schue's face appeared. Queen Rachel had not been to the mirror in a while; now the brat was dead, she knew she was the best singer of them all. But she still loved to hear it.
"O Queen, you are a star, 'tis true-but Kurt Hummel is still as good as you,"
"What?" the queen shrieked, in a voice which rattled the mirror frame.
"He lives; in a little house in the forest, heart beating, singing still," "Impossible!"
"Also…someone's got a zit coming…"
Queen Rachel screamed in rage. That explained Puck's rapid departure from her service. She tossed her beautiful hair angrily. "The brat must die!" she snarled. "I MUST be the star! I MUST!"
Sitting heavily down on her chair, and taking a handful of chocolates from the bowl at her side, her evil mind began to whirr…
Thank you so much! :D Hope you liked! :D
Just to clarify:
Mercedes
Artie
Brittany
Santana
Mike
Rory
Finn
are the seven people who live together without being dwarfs…:P
Now match them to their posters! :P
:D Thank you! I'm very grateful for any reviews! Always appreciated :D PVG24601xxx