I finished The Hunger Games, and was struck by the similarities between Rue and Gavroche from Les Misérables. This fic is a character study of both of them, chronicling their similar situations and personalities.
I used some aspects of the movies of these stories. I do not own either The Hunger Games or Les Mis. Please R & R! Reviews mean so much to me, even if it's just constructive criticism!
They were only children, both of them twelve years old, but their similarities didn't end there. Despite living centuries apart on different continents, they had more in common than one might think.
Siblings
Rue
It wasn't easy being the oldest of six. She was constantly looking after them, and she swore they got in her face on purpose sometimes. She had to admit there was really no such thing as privacy in her house, since she shared a room with her sisters, but everyone wishes to be alone once in a while. But still, Rue loved her siblings, and they loved her.
That's why, when she was reaped, she promised them she would come back to them.
Gavroche
People were often surprised to find out that Gavroche had two older sisters. Éponine was the one he was the most attached to. Azelma got less mention, but he didn't love her any less. Unknown to him, he also had two younger brothers. The story of how he met them without even knowing their relation to him is a sad one, but one for another time.
Don't Underestimate the Cute Ones
Rue
She didn't look like much. She was only twelve, after all. But she was determined to make the best of this situation and get home alive.
Rue definitely held her own during training. Being small and light helped her go unnoticed by the huge Careers—-except for that one time when she swiped Cato's knife. She couldn't resist, and it was worth it to see his over-the-top reaction. Hidden in the rafters, Rue smiled to herself. Thresh met her eyes and gave a slight shake of his head, but he was smiling too.
Gavroche
Why wouldn't they let him have a gun? Not even a pistol? He'd even take a revolver if they would just let him help fight! Sure he was young and small, but little guys can do big things, too! He had to prove to the big boys that he could be just as heroic as any of them.
When he spotted the newcomer to their barricade, he was presented with the perfect opportunity. That old inspector wanted them to lose this fight, but Gavroche would foil his plan! He waited for the inspector to spout his lies to the revolutionaries. He would wait until Javert was sure he had their confidence, then topple him off from his high horse.
"There will be no attack tonight." The revolutionaries considered this news with some unease.
Now was Gavroche's chance. He hopped down from his perch on a desk wedged sideways in the barricade, stood to his full height of four feet nine inches, marched up to Javert, jabbed a finger in his chest, and exclaimed, "Liar!"
To the bewilderment of all, the boy proceeded to reveal Javert's secret to the students with a smirk on his smug little face. He was proud of himself for contributing to the fight the way he did best.
Little people know when little people fight,
We may look easy pickin's, but we've got some bite!
So never kick a dog because he's just a pup!
We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up!
So you better run for cover when the pup grows up!
Little Birds
Rue
She had the habit of standing poised on her tiptoes, arms held out a slight distance from her torso. She was so small and lightweight that Katniss wondered if she actually would take wing and fly off one day. A little songbird like her didn't belong in a place as bloody as the arena. Yes, she was hard to catch, all birds are, but even the quickest birds can be ensnared in the hunter's net.
Gavroche
The little street urchin was often seen skipping down the street, whistling a tune. People watching him go by would say, "Voilà le petit oiseau."
Birds of a feather flock together, and Gavroche often had a passel of boys and girls trailing behind him. Two boys in particular, one about seven years of age and the other five, stayed as close to their leader as they could. The elder had wavy auburn hair and brown eyes. One might notice a remarkable resemblance to Éponine Thénardier. The younger had light blonde hair like Gavroche and brown eyes like Éponine. One might assume the boys were long-lost brothers of the Thénardier children.
Agility
Rue
Nimble. Quick. Light on her feet. "If they can't catch me, they can't kill me." What better place to not be caught than up in a tree? She had been climbing since she could walk. Playing hide-and-seek with her brothers and sisters, everyone knew to look up if they wanted to find her.
Her feet hardly ever touched the ground for the first several days into the Games. She made a sort of bed for herself in the treetops by attaching her sleeping bag to a thick tree branch so she wouldn't fall in the middle of the night. She always made sure she was hidden from view by the branches of the trees. She called this sleeping place her nest.
She was safe up here, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, with her extra pair of socks worn on her hands for warmth. She was untouchable. As safe as a songbird in its nest.
Gavroche
Nimble. Quick. Light on his feet. The gamin could literally navigate the streets of Paris with his eyes closed. Shimmying up and down the legs of the elephant, dodging around les gendarmes, scrambling under stationary carriages, cutting through bistros (pausing only briefly to take a handful of food off a patron's plate to stuff his face with). He knew where he was going, and nothing and nobody could stop him.
"Gavroche!" A young man with curly black hair spotted him and waved.
"Courf!" The boy sprinted over to the law student.
Courfeyrac hoisted Gavroche onto his shoulders. Gavroche whooped delightedly. "I'm the king of the world!" he shouted. Together, they marched through the streets with the rest of the people.
Singing
Rue
In District 11, the field workers sang songs as they harvested grain. Deep basses, sweet sopranos, rich tenors, and melodic altos all blended together and lasted late into the evening.
From her perch in a magnolia tree, one little girl waited and watched the sun. When the golden orange ball of light dipped halfway below the hillside, she whistled a four-note melody. All around her, though they could not be seen, mockingjays took up her song. The field workers set down their tools at the signal to quit for the day and made their way to their homes.
Rue's house was a full one. A family with six children and a set of grandparents all living together made for much chatter and noise. But it was always cheerful noise. And when it was bedtime, Rue would sing a song to her siblings to help them go to sleep. Each sibling had a day of the week assigned to them where they got to pick the song they wanted that night, to keep it fair. And on the seventh day of the week, Rue always sang the same song: a song about a meadow, a safe place to sleep and be secure from all harm, surrounded by flowers and people who love you.
Rue thought that place was just make-believe. It was part of a song, so it wasn't real, right? She never expected the meadow from the lullaby to be found in the arena, or as close as she could get to it. There were wildflowers nearby, and she was in Katniss's arms. She knew she was dying, but she wanted the last thing she heard to be her best friend singing her favorite lullaby. "Can you sing?"
Gavroche
He had had a rough life, but that didn't stop him from being a cheerful little boy. Part of what helped him stay so happy was because he often sang to himself. He sang every song he knew, from old French folk songs to soft romantic tunes to ditties making fun of French philosophers. Singing always made him feel braver. Which is why he broke out into song when he crawled through a gap in the barricade to retrieve more ammunition.
Die Tragically
Rue
One minute she was sneaking through the forest and the next she was tangled in a large net. She screamed for Katniss. She didn't see the boy with the spear until it was too late.
All Katniss could do was cut the net away and hold Rue in her lap. There were no comforting words, no "You're going to be okay," because they both knew the cruel truth. Rue was fighting for every breath, but she had one last wish. "Sing."
She never got to hear the song about the meadow in its entirety. She never got to touch and admire the beautiful, colorful flowers Katniss decorated her body with. And, perhaps most mercifully of all, she never knew about the hundreds of casualties in the rebellion sparked by her death. The fate of one child can change the course of an entire country.
Gavroche
Being small had its perks, after all. No one noticed Gavroche crawl through a gap in the barricade and sneak out onto the street. He wasn't afraid. Okay, maybe just a little. But the National Guard wouldn't shoot a child.
They would. Gavroche was on the wrong side of the rebellion, that was all that mattered to the soldiers. They didn't care that he was only twelve years old.
But he wouldn't let them stop him. He gathered bullets and cartridges, singing all the while to make himself feel brave. A warning shot struck a table in the barricade behind him. He paused, momentarily caught off guard by the danger.
"Gavroche! Come back!" Courfeyrac pleaded, Combeferre having to physically hold him back. Gavroche just gave him a cheeky smile and carried on with his task.
"So never kick a dog because he's just a pup! We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up! Argh!" Another well-aimed bullet hit him in the shoulder. On the other side of the barricade, Courfeyrac's shouts were growing louder. But still Gavroche would not be deterred. He had to play this part for the revolution! "So you better run for cover when the pup grows—-"
The last bullet struck his head. Gavroche collapsed, his stringy blond hair falling into his bright blue eyes that would see no more. France's youngest martyr had died a hero's death, and would be honored as such.
In Memoriam
Rue
"Here is the place where I love you." After Katniss sang the final line, a cannon sounded. She gently closed Rue's eyes. She kept cradling the little girl's body for a few minutes; she reminded her so much of her sister Prim. Silent tears streaked down her face. She wanted to do something to honor Rue, and at the same time do something to defy the Capitol, to show that Rue and herself were more than just pieces in their games.
A patch of wildflowers grew nearby. Katniss gathered as much as she could take in one handful, and came back for more. She surrounded Rue's body with them, framing her with purple, yellow, and white blossoms and wreathing them in her hair. She put a small bouquet of them in her small, brown hands and placed them over her stomach, covering the ugly spear wound.
When she was done, she stepped back. Rue looked so beautiful and peaceful. Katniss knelt down and planted a kiss on her ally's forehead. Then she straightened up, put the first three fingers of her left hand to her lips, and extended them to where Rue lay. She also did it to the cameras she knew were recording. She should have been the enemy to Rue, but she had made her her friend. She was happy to honor her after her death.
Gavroche
Javert made his way back to the Rue de la Chanvrerie. With feet weighing him down like two-ton stones, he stepped into the Café Musain. The sight of death was too much. All these young men, with promising futures ahead of them, had had their lives snuffed out like a candle flame.
It was not only men that had given their lives in this revolution. At the end of the row of bodies, Javert saw a girl lying on the floor next to the wall. His stone heart trembled inside of him. Why all this pointless bloodshed?
Next to the girl was a boy with stringy blond hair, the same boy who had exposed Javert to the other students. Any time before this, Javert would have looked smug and declared that the law would always prevail. But there was no winner in this situation. If upholding the law meant innocent children had to die, and Javert spent his whole life enforcing the law, then he had contributed to the deaths of these students, of this brother and sister.
Javert firmly believed criminals should be brought to justice. Taking part in the rebellion meant that these children were traitors to the king. Any court of law would find them guilty of treason. But was it necessary that they, being children, needed to die for their crimes? Even if their actions were treasonous? For the first time in his life, Javert began to question the morals he had always held to.
The inspector knelt in front of the boy's corpse. Gossip traveled fast, and he already knew how the gamin had died. Risking his life, he had gone out to collect ammunition from the dead bodies of the soldiers, and was shot on sight. Rebel though he may be, he had died bravely.
Javert unpinned his légion d'honneur medal from his uniform, fastened it to the boy's shirt, and straightened it. That medal had been bestowed on him by Napoleon himself for bravery, a recognition of sacrifice, and as a sign of respect. Rebel though this boy may have been, he still had shown himself to be more courageous than Javert could ever hope to be. The boy deserved the medal more than he did.
translations:
Voilà le petit oiseau-There goes the little bird
Légion d'honneur-Legion of honor