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.”

The gypsy Esmerelda woke by the sound of the Sunday bells, ringing in the morning mass. She opened her eyes and stretched on her tiny mat she was forced to sleep on. The Festival of Fools was that day, and she smiled at the thought of going. Of course, she would have to find places to hide so she wouldn't get caught.

She sat up slightly and looked up at Notre Dame. It was beautiful in the morning light, with the sun hitting the circular stained glass window a particular way and making the ground different colors. The beautiful dark-skinned woman stood up and fixed the pink ribbon in her hair as it had fallen out in her sleep. She watched from an alley way as members of the church made their way into the building, laughing, smiling, talking. Esmerelda smiled again as she turned her attention to the goat that had been sleeping at her feet. She gave him a gentle pat on his belly and he woke, nudging her hand with his nose. She laughed and rubbed his nose gently.

"Alright, Djali, I'll be back in a little bit," she told the goat in a low, husky voice. "I left you some scraps to eat until I return. Be good!"

With that, Esmerelda stood and walked the street. It was mostly empty now, so it was easier for her to wander and look. There was singing coming from the church, so she walked over and placed her ear on the door, to listen. She wished much that she could just go in without getting caught, just to see what it was like in there. But she knew she couldn't because she wasn't like them. She was a gypsy, and to most people, not a person.

The bird, Jean-Luc, took flight from it's nest, joining a flock of pigeons flying by. Quasimodo smiled. They were lovely. He watched as the citizens of Paris walked below him. “I wish I could be among them,” he said aloud. “I could go to the festival, meet new people, make new friends. Maybe people will look past my face, especially on such a beautiful day and at a fun festival... I could go. I will get cleaned up, walk through those doors...” Quasimodo had almost convinced himself when...

“Boy! Were you thinking of going to the Festival?” Judge Claude Frollo said menacingly. He had come up so quietly. Since he was a young boy, ringing the bells had taken a toll on his hearing, and sometimes when he was lost in thought, he didn't notice footsteps behind him. He had asked Frollo for some kind of ear protection, but the man assumed he was lying. After all, just hearing loud noises doesn't hurt your ears, it didn't hurt the rest of the Parisian citizens who heard them. So Quasi had used pieces of cloth and had even fashioned some sound reducing over ear coverings, to save what hearing he could.

“No, No, M-master. I was … j-just w-wondering what it would be like,” the hunchback muttered.

“Don't lie to me! How dare you even think of it. You are deformed, a monster. The people would never accept you,” Frollo shouted, beating Quasi three times with his cane. Once on the cheek, knocking him to the ground, once on the head, and once on his back. “Now repeat what I just said.”

“I know M-master, I am d-deformed and monstrous. I don't know what I w-was thinking,” the young man replied from the ground, kneeling before his master.

“Good. Now if I ever hear you think of leaving this cathedral, unleashing your devil on the people, I will show you how the people will respond to you with a public flogging and two days in the stocks. Understood?!” Frollo threatened.

“Yes master. I'm sorry. It won't happen again,” Quasimodo replied softly.

“Now there's a good lad. Remember, Quasimodo, I do this to protect you as much as to protect them. The people are protected from the demon inside you, and you are protected from their hatred of your hideousness. Remember Quasimodo, this is your sanctuary.”

“Yes sir... my sanctuary,” the young man replied, not looking at his guardian. And with that, Frollo left the bell-tower. Quasimodo had noticed he had had food with him for breakfast, but Frollo had taken that with him. A just punishment for my sinful thoughts, he thought. “I guess I can still watch the Festival from here. That will be fun too,” he muttered, smiling a little. Despite everything, he still wondered what it would be like to be among the people, to meet a new friend besides Archdeacon Moreau. The Archdeacon had always been kind to him, sometimes bringing him small gifts and discussing some of the ancient books the hunchback would read in his spare time. He was both a teacher and a friend, able to look past Quasimodo's ugliness. He didn't really know what to call Frollo. Friend did not seem like the right word. Guardian, surrogate father, he supposed.

[OOC: Sorry, Didn't mean to make it so long, got carried away]

[OOC: Trust me. That's not that long in comparison to one or two of my other RPs. It's actually rather short.]

Esmerelda watched the church carefully while keeping an open ear on the gypsies around her. She knew full well they were preparing for the Festival of Fools, and was cautious not to interrupt them. During the Festival of Fools and the set up, she never really did much. Especially not today. Today was the day she was going to get into the church whether it killed her or not. She had always wanted to go in there, especially because she wanted to meet the Bell Ringer. What her reasoning was to meet the young man or woman, she wasn't sure, but she knew that was what she wanted. Not only that, she wanted to see what the town looked like from above.

When she was sure the coast was clear, and she could sneak into the cathedral of Notre Dame without getting caught, Esmerelda slowly walked up the steps of the building. The sun was still shining perfectly on the circular stained glass window, and wanted so dearly to see what that looked like from the inside.

She sighed softly to herself before slowly opening the door. The sermon was still going on, and she managed to make it in without any sort of glance her way. Slowly, she began to make her way to the steps that led to the bell tower, making sure to stick to the shadows. The darker it was around her, the less, she knew, she wouldn't get caught.

Esmerelda found herself stopping after a few minutes of tiptoeing through the shadows and gasped softly to herself. Her hand placed themselves over her mouth, and she stared at the brilliance of what the sunlight had created shining through the window. The colors were more beautiful than she could have ever imagined, and remained staring in awe for a few more moments. She only looked away when she saw a member of the church looking in her direction.

She hid behind a pillar quickly and remained there until she was sure the coast was clear. Nodding to herself, she took a few more steps before reaching a door. She turned to look to see if anyone else had “noticed” her yet, and smiled when no one had. Esmerelda opened the door quickly and quietly and stepped in, shutting the door just as quietly behind her.

Her smile widened as she nearly ran up the stairs, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw whom she assumed was the Bell Ringer, a deformed man with a hump on his back, and one eye bigger than the other, talking to a gargoyle. She stared at him for second, or maybe minutes, wondering who he was and why he was up there alone.

“Hello, there,” Esmerelda told the young man as she walked towards him. “What are you doing up here all by your lonesome?”

[OOC: Oh, well, I'm usually more comfortable with 1-2 paragraphs unless there is more to say. More sometimes turns into rambling filler.]

Quasimodo was shaken up after his encounter with Frollo. It had been months since his master had been so angry with him. He knew he could not leave, this was his sanctuary, no one would ever find him with his hideous and deformed face. He had calmed himself down when he heard a voice, it was unfamiliar to him, a woman's voice? He froze for a second, utterly confused. No one knew he was here, no one could know. What do I do? he thought, panicked. Covering his face with his hands, he ran to the other end of the bell tower. Past all the bells, past his figurines, his books, but there was no where to run. The bell tower was only so large, there was no where to run. But he could not face her. He could jump off, but he was not allowed to leave the tower.

Then, he had an idea. Climbing onto the balcony, and grabbed a buttress with one arm, swinging himself onto the roof. There was no way she could follow him here. Carefully, he strode to the center of the roof, the highest point in Notre Dame, gazing out into the city of Paris. He knew he had escaped. Sitting on the rooftop, he thought about her. That woman who had found him, she was so, beautiful. No one like that could ever love someone as scarred and disfigured as he was. It would be much better if she just left. If Frollo ever caught him talking to someone like that, he would have him punished at the Palace of Justice for sure. Why had she even come up here? No one ever came to his tower, his sanctuary.

[OOC; That's fine. I'll be able to deal with it because I like this RP.]

"Wait!" Esmerelda called out as she watched the disfigured young man take off away from her. She could not understand why he ran, so she ran after him as best as she could. It wasn't until he made it to the balcony that caused her to freeze and watch him swing away. "Wait!" her deep voice rang out again above the courtyard underneath the balcony as he disappeared onto the roof. A low sigh escaped her lips as she looked down at the city below, watching as some church dwellers left the sermon early and other late risers made their way to the tiny shops located around the square.

She looked back up in the direction the young man had disappeared before scanning the surroundings for a way to follow him. There was a way, the way he had used to escape from her, and the only way to reach him. She was going to meet him, see him up close, no matter what it took. The young, dark skinned woman knew that it was dangerous for her, but there was no other way, and she was determined to know his name, even if that was all she got from him and they never saw each other again. All she had ever wanted since she had gotten to Paris as a little girl was to meet the one who rang the church bells.

Heaving another heavy sigh, Esmerelda climbed onto the balcony and stood for a moment out of fear and adrenaline. He made this look so easy, she thought to herself as she looked up at the buttress above her. As slowly and carefully as she dare manage, she grabbed the buttress with one hand before following it up with the other. She attempted to pull herself up, but didn't have the strength. Her right hand slipped off and she screamed slightly before pulling it back up. Again, she tried to pull herself up, but no prevail as her right hand slipped off again. Another scream rang from deep within her lungs as it fell, and looked up at her left hand. Her eyes widened with fear when she realized that her hand she was using to grasp the brick as tightly as she could was slowly beginning to slip.

"Help me! Please!" she begged toward seemingly empty space and the open sky, knowing that the young, disfigured man was up there still, with no other way down, and was the only one that could save her now.

Quasimodo gazed at the beautiful city. It was late afternoon, around eleven o'clock, and the final setup for the Festival of Fools was just being finished. He was so high above the town that all the people bustling around looked like tiny ants. He climbed up here to think, to stare at the clouds, it was a beautiful view. But he could not forget that lady. Why had she followed him? Surely he had lost her. No one would follow him up here... he was sa-

“Help me! Please!” he heard. Running down the roof as fast as he dared on the slanted surface, which was not a fast as was needed, but they would both die if he slipped off himself. “I'm coming!” the young hunchback yelled, “hang on!” Just then he reached the buttress on which this woman hang. Bracing himself so he would not fall, he grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her up, careful not to pull so fast that he would hurt her. Gently, though trying to turn his face away from her, he carried her and placed her on the roof, a few meters from the edge. He had to look away, she could not see him. If she saw his face she would hate him. He was a monster. He turned his back to her, covering the mutations and disfigurement on his face. The disfigured man knew he should not talk, but he had to ask.

“What in God's name were you doing?! Are you crazy? You could have killed yourself!” Quasimodo demanded. He might have shouted, but he was terribly timid, so despite his frustration, he could barely even hear himself ask. Extremely nervous, he rocked back and forth, hoping she would not ask him to look at her. He could not take her disgust, the look that Frollo gave him every time they met, and the reaction that he had been assured he would receive his entire life. Besides Frollo, the only person who had fully seen his hideous face was the Jean-Claude Moreau, the Archdeacon of Notre Dame.

“Why did you even come up here? I'm not supposed to see anyone at all. No one ever comes to the belltower?” he asked, less angrily, and still just as timid.

Just as her fingers were about to let go of the buttress, Esmerelda felt two hands grasp her wrists and arms, and pull her up gently but firmly. She turned to thank him once she was in a sitting position, and no longer about to fall to her death, but he himself had turned from her. The hands that had saved her life were covering his disfigured face, and she frowned. She wondered why he was hiding himself from her, and then he spoke.

His words caught her off guard, and she jumped slightly. Her frown grew as he continued to speak, and she looked away, her eyes peering out over the bustling crowds and her ears caught the faintest of laughter. "I know," she nearly whispered so quietly she wasn't sure if he would have been able to hear it. "I'm sorry."

Esmerelda paused and turned to him again, staring at him for a moment before speaking. "I came up because you are the one person I've wanted to meet my whole life. Well, at least ever since I arrived in Paris. You were... are the one person who I never had a chance to meet, and I was curious as to who you were and what you looked like. "Here." She paused again and grabbed each of his hands, pulling them slowly away from his face. Once they were at his sides, she moved one of her hands up to his chin and turned his head. Finally. The one she wanted to meet, to see, to touch.

But the face looking back at her when he was looking completely in her direction startled her. Though she didn't let go of his chin, her eyebrows raised as high up her forehead as they could go, and her eyes themselves widened at the sight of him. She had a feeling deep inside of her that if she made too much of a violent and scared reaction, he would run from her once again, and this time, she wouldn't be able to catch him, and she would be stuck on the roof and die of starvation.

Her expression calmed after a few moments, and she smiled. "Look at you. Why would you ever be so scared to show your face? This is the most handsome face I've ever seen. It shocks me that you are never allowed to see anyone. Why, if I knew you before, I would be more than happy to show you to the world!" Her voice was soothing and her face calm as she spoke to him. The hand that was not on his chin reached up and touched each and every inch of his face as if she was mesmerizing his face, as if she was never going to see him again. And if that were going to be the case, she definitely wanted to make sure she remembered who he was and what he looked like. "My name is Esmerelda. What might your name be, kind sir? And I call you kind because you did save my life, after all."

Quasimodo was continually startled, shocked, entranced by this whole conversation. At twenty years of age, he had only ever spoken with two people, Frollo and Archdeacon Jean de Lancre. Hardly anyone else knew of his existence, except perhaps in whispered rumors of a monster who rang the church bells. He had already shocked himself speaking to this woman at all. Surely he had no right to address or question the actions of one with such beauty. He was speechless, and his astonishment only increased as she spoke to him.

You wanted to meet me? But why? No one ever has wanted to meet me. I'm just a lowly bellringer; you are an angel. Her soft and gentle hands touched him, gently pulling his hands away from his face. He wanted to resist, for he knew that she would hate him, but he was in a sort of trance. Most other humans were put-off, even repulsed, just by seeing his strange hunched back. This angelic lady turned him around, and the disfigured hunchback winced. He remembered when he had come down from his tower for Easter Mass, wanting to hear the music and maybe even see some people face to face.

As he saw her striking emerald eyes widen so drastically, his heart began to break. Here it comes, the shrieks, the revulsion, just like that one Easter Sunday. He waited for her terror, but it never came. She was certainly startled, but the look soon passed, and she began to speak to him as if he were a real human being. Quasimodo listened to her words, smiling a little.

“I know you are lying to be kind, but thank you. Esmerelda is a very beautiful name,” the young man replied politely. “My name is Quasimodo, it means 'half formed.' Judge Frollo named me that when I was a very young child.” The hunchback knew that at some point they would have to get off this roof, but that would be easy enough. For now, he wanted to stay here as long as he could, with this stranger who showed him kindness.

Esmerelda shook her head at his words. She could hear the sadness in his voice, but the politeness that seemed to flow from him was something that soaked into her, and she smiled a pearly white smile at him. "And thank you, Quasimodo, for your kind words. I am not lying to be kind, nor am I lying. You really are the most handsome man I have ever met, dear one," she told him simply an sweetly. She looked into his eyes, his lovely blue eyes, and her heart melted for the young man. Why would anyone name a child something with such a horrible meaning? Though she knew it was true, he really was very handsome to her. It wasn't the way he looked, but it was the way he acted. Most men who would normally be good looking were just such horrible men. Beating, raping, the lot, is what those men would do.

"Such a... nice name," she continued, her eyes never wavering from his. Her hands moved up and down and around his face, as if she was trying to memorize it, like she would never see him again after this moment on the roof. "And your eyes, so beautiful."

Esmerelda smiled at him and let her hands wander around, to his neck, then back, then hips, stomach, and chest, still as if she was planting him into the depths of her brain, as if she never wanted to forget him.

Her hands eventually fell to her sides when she finally spoke again. "The Festival of Fools is today. I think you should come. And if we have to," she paused for a moment to look around, though knowing no one could see or hear them from where they were, and leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I will help sneak out out of here. I snuck in, so I'm positive I can sneak you out."