The Hunchback of Notre Dame: A Retelling by VampWiz and Inara
[OOC DISCLAIMER: This story is heavily adapted from the story of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, originally by Victor Hugo. It borrows heavily from the 1996 Disney version, most notably the poem below, adapted from the lyrics to "Bells of Notre Dame" by Alen Menken. This is essentially a work of fanfiction for amateur and purely enjoyment purposes, and no copyright infringement is intended.]
~~~~~
Morning in Paris, the city awakes
To the bells of Notre Dame
The fisherman fishes, the baker-man bakes
To the bells of Notre Dame
To the big bells as loud as the thunder
To the little bells soft as a psalm
And some say the soul of the city's
The toll of the bells
The bells of Notre Dame
Listen, they're beautiful, no?
So many colors of sound, so many changing moods
Because you know, they don't ring all by themselves
- They don't? -
No, you silly boy.
Up there, high, high in the dark bell tower
lives the mysterious bell ringer.
Who is this creature - Who? -
What is he? - What? -
How did he come to be there - How? -
Hush, Clopin will tell you
It is a tale, a tale of a man and a monster.
Dark was the night when our tale was begun
On the docks near Notre Dame
Four frightened gypsies slid silently under
The docks near Notre Dame
But a trap had been laid for the gypsies
And they gazed up in fear and alarm
At a figure whose clutches
Were iron as much as the bells
“Judge Claude Frollo!”
The bells of Notre Dame
Kyrie Eleison (Lord have mercy)
Judge Claude Frollo longed
To purge the world
Of vice and sin
And he saw corruption
Ev'rywhere
Except within
“Bring these gypsy vermin to the palace of justice,” he ordered.
A guard cried out to the frightened woman, “You there, what are you hiding?”
“Stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her”
Her comrades in chains, she did the only thing she could do to protect her precious cargo.
She ran.
Dies irae, dies illa (Day of wrath, that day)
Solvet saeclum in favilla (Shall consume the world in ashes)
Teste David cum sibylla (As prophesied by David and the sibyl)
Quantus tremor est futurus (What trembling is to be)
Quando Judex est venturus (When the Judge is come)
“Sanctuary, please give us sanctuary!” the gypsy woman cried
as she hammered on the door to Notre Dame.
Frollo rode in on his horse, grabbed the cargo from her, pushing her away. The woman fell to the ground, motionless.
The small package cried out.
A baby?
Frollo opened the cloth and beheld a face.
A monster!
The Judge, disgusted, moved towards the well.
“Stop!”*Cried the Archdeacon.
“This is an unholy deamon. I'm sending it back to hell, where it belongs.”
“See there the innocent blood you have spilt, on the steps of Notre Dame”
“I am guiltless. She ran, I pursued.”
“Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt, on the steps of Notre Dame”
“My conscience is clear”
“You can lie to yourself and your minions
You can claim that you haven't a qualm
But you never can run from
Nor hide what you've done from the eyes
The very eyes of Notre Dame”
Kyrie Eleison (Lord have mercy)
And for one time in his life
Of power and control
Frollo felt a twinge of fear
For his immortal soul
“What must I do?” he demanded, eyes wide.
The archdeacon replied, “Care for the child, and raise it as your own”
“What? I'm to be saddled with this misshapen...? Very well. Let him live with you, in your church.”
“Live here? Where?”
“Anywhere. Just so he's kept locked away Where no one else can see. The bell tower, perhaps.”
And who knows, our Lord works in mysterious ways
Even this foul creature may
Yet prove one day to be
Of use to me , he thought, smirking.
And Frollo gave the child a cruel name
A name that means half-formed, Quasimodo
Now here is a riddle to guess if you can
Sing the bells of Notre Dame
Who is the monster and who is the man?
Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells of Notre Dame
~~~~ 20 Years Later ~~~~
Quasimodo gazed out into the city of Paris. He had just rung morning mass and he had a short break from his other chores before his master arrived. The young man smiled at the bird in a nest inside a gargoyle's mouth.
“Good morning, Jean-Luc. Will today be the day? Are you ready to fly? You sure? It's a good day to try! If I picked a day to fly, this would be it. The Festival of Fools. There'll be music, and dancing, and food! Go on! Nobody wants to be cooped up here forever.”