Welcome back to the oddness! Written under the influence of OBC Sweeney Todd! Mrs. Potts is singing about how she's baking priests into her pies. And review replies for the past two chappies! Yaaaaaay!
Darci the Thespian-Smiley faces to you too! Merci very muchly!
Om-I KNOW!
Mars-Whatever.
Mars again-I meant to put in a line about you handing it to Enj or 'Ferre...did I forget? And no, I'm not including those reviews. That would be a waste of valuable space.
TheJondretteGirls-What does it mean, pray tell? I dunno, never looked it up...
PhoenixGirl97-Apparently it's Oaken Pancakes. Whatever. But you can be the Knight of the Blue Waffles if it please your fancy, ma'am.
Om again-But mother! He's the best cow!
TheJondretteGirls-So, you watched the first episode! Huzzah for Valjean, Jean Valjean and his relationship with lovely 20 year old Sister Simplice.
Om AGAIN!-I LIVE!
Mars yet again-Yes I did. :P And NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I'M NOT GONNA!
ATTEND THE TALE OF MARIUS PONTMERCY!
"We shall all die, Combeferre! We shall all die!" Enjolras was tearing at his lovely golden locks.
"Marius Pontmercy can do it, sir," Gavroche said. Marius and Courfeyrac hovered behind him.
"What, a schoolboy like him? Don't be silly," Combeferre scoffed.
"He has been taking lessons from a great teacher," Gavroche insisted.
"Who?" Combeferre asked, directing the question at Marius.
"I—don't know her name, monsieur," Marius said shyly.
Enjolras facepalmed. "What is it with all the women at this barricade? Is this not nineteenth century France? Is this not a revolution?"
"Let him shoot for you, Monsieur," the gamin said, ignoring his aside. "He has been well-taught."
"All right..." Combeferre said cautiously. "Come on, don't be shy..." as Marius nervously stepped forward. Gavroche gave him a shove. "Come one, come along," Combeferre continued. "Just...shoot at the target there, Monsieur."
Feuilly handed Marius a gun.
"Combeferre, this is doing nothing for my nerves..." Enjolras moaned, rubbing his temple.
"Have a headache?" Combeferre inquired, momentarily distracted. Enjolras nodded piteously.
An adorable little boy popped up out of nowhere, holding up a bottle. "TRY PIRELLI'S MIRACLE ELIXIR, IT'LL DO THE TRICK SIR, TRUE SIR, TRUE. IS IT QUICK SIR? DO IT IN A TICK, SIR! JUST AS AN ELIXIR SHOULD!" he sang, thus proving that the authoress should most definitely not listen to anything while writing.
Oh, well. Marius, when he was sure the two men were watching, began to shoot at the target. He aimed, fired, and...
Whaddya know! He hit the red center. Then he did it again. And again. And again. And—
"All right, all right, magnificent!" Enjolras said, taking the gun. "No need to waste all that powder! You get the job, you'll be at the forefront of the barricade when the National Guard attacks tonight!"
And now, time for a
SEAMLESS SEGUE INTO THAT NIGHT'S BATTLE!
La, la, Marius was doing dandily. Suddenly, Cosette espied him standing atop the barricade, and the background music that had, thus far, been kind of playing awkwardly in the background while nobody sang along, swelled as she sang, "Can it be? Can it be that man?"
She hurried forward. "Long ago! It seems so long ago! How young and innocent, back then...he may not remember me, but I remember him!"
Marius shot one last National Guardsman, and the Guard began to fall back.
"Brava! Brava!" The Barricade Boys clapped and whistled. Marius blushed.
"They'll be back," Enjolras said, sighing. "But good job, m'lad." He patted Marius on the back.
Extra Number 14, watching the scene, hurried to an alley behind the barricade, where Valjean was waiting. The Extra smiled apologetically and Valjean swore and stamped his foot and was generally OOC. But it wasn't like he wasn't already.
Back to the barricade! Everyone was chattering happily, but Marius had disappeared. Courfeyrac squeezed his way through the crowd, looking for him.
Marius was lighting a candle for his father in a temporary chapel set up in one of the rooms of the Café. He pulled a well-worn letter out of his pocket and read it. It was written, obviously, by Ramin Karimloo, seeing as how this is the movie and not the musical. If this was the musical, Ramin Karimloo would have been playing Éponine, and then originating her role in the crap sequel that I refuse to watch.
"Marius...Marius..." sighed a raspy voice. Marius looked up.
"Marius..." Courfeyrac called. "There you are! Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret—who is your great tutor?"
"Courfeyrac..." Marius whispered, holding out the piece of paper. "When my father lay dying, he wrote me this note."
Courfeyrac read, "'My son—'
'The Emperor made me a baron on the battle-field of Waterloo. My son shall take this title and bear it. That he will be worthy of it is a matter of course... '
"Skip that part," Marius said impatiently.
"Right, right," Courfeyrac muttered. "'..someday my son, too, will be a hero on the battlefield. I will send the Angel of Battle to him when I am dead.'" He looked up. "So?"
"You, see, Courfeyrac," Marius said, smiling, "My father, Ramin Karimloo, said he would send me the Angel of Battle! And now—"
"Marius, do you believe—" Courfeyrac said hesitantly. "Do you think the spirit of your father's coaching you?"
"Who else, Courfeyrac?" Marius asked excitedly. "Who?"
Courfeyrac looked unconvinced, so Marius decided to sing. They had gone far too long without anyone singing, anyway.
"Father once wrote of an angel...I used to dream she'd appear...now when I shoot I can sense her...and I know she's here!"
"Waitwaitwait," Courfeyrac interrupted. "If this angel's a woman, why do you think she's your father?"
Marius, dear boy, hadn't thought of that. He bit his lip. "Dang! That might cause some plot issues later. What about Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again?"
"It's okay, no one really understands what that song's about anyway," Courfeyrac comforted him. "Let's just sing this song; it's quite pretty.
"Right. ...Here, in this room, she calls me softly, somewhere inside hiding! Somehow I know she's always with me, she the unseen genius!" Marius got up, as if to search for the angel right then. Courfeyrac grabbed his arm.
"Marius you must have been dreaming...stories like this can't come true! Marius, you're talking in riddles...which is quite...like...you...!" He led Marius out of the room, hoping to take him back to the rest of the groupl
Marius ignored his doubts. "Angel of Battle, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!"
"Who is this angel?" Courfeyrac persisted.
"This Angel of Battle, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" they both sang.
"Whoa!" Courfeyrac grinned. "Did you hear that? We, like both sang the same thing! At the same time! Without planning it!"
"She's with me, even now..." Marius was frightened, suddenly. Courfeyrac took his hand and shivered.
"Your hands are cold!"
"All around me..." he gazed at the walls.
"Your face, Marius! It's white!"
"It frightens me..."
"Don't be frightened!" Courfeyrac said, although it seemed that if Marius was convinced an Angel of Battle was watching his every move, he should be very frightened indeed.
From a dark corner, Montparnasse took a swig from a bottle. I probably should've given Grantaire that part...why didn't I give Grantaire that part? Anyway, Montparnasse was watching. And he smiled. I don't know why he was happy. He had just killed someone, probably.
Mrs. Potts just discovered that Benjamin Barker is called Todd now. Sweeney Todd. Who made the decision to cast Mrs. Potts as someone who bakes dead bodies into pies? I'm confused.
Review, m'lovelies! I did, after all, basically end DFW so I could update this regularly...I would very much like some love...I think I'm gonna write another scene! Like, right now! You could get another update tomorrow! But I ain't making any promises...also, does anyone have a four syllable equivalent of 'best shooter' that would make sense in 'Prima Donna'? Cos I can't think of anything...