When I Close My Eyes, I See the Better Day ( HoND Fanfiction)

Preparing For the Feast of Fools

' You know what; you're right. I'll go!' Quasimodo stood up and began a confident walk; or limp, towards the archway where his tunics were. Happy cheers sounded from all three of them.' I'll get cleaned up;' he mused throwing a fist ahead of him in confidence as if that hand was leading him forth to a new beginning. ' I'll stroll down those stairs, ' Quasimodo smiled at the thought, wandering free in Paris. ' Walk through those doors and-'
' Hello, Quasimodo, ' a dark voice greeted the hunchback. It was his master, Frollo.
The harsh and deathly pale features of judge Claude Frollo had been an inspiration of uneasiness and fear for Quasimodo, despite having seen him often. His adopted father was judge in the Palace of Justice. Claude Frollo had fought tooth and nail to become an ordained minister in one of the many smaller churches in Paris' Reuilly district, and was known for harsh, but generally strict attitude that caught the eye of a French nobleman, who nominated him for council position. Of course, it was not carried through, but seeing the passion of his ideals, made him judge for the Court of Miracles.

The ruthlessness he displayed in his line of work was uncanny, to say the least. In his idea of a perfect world, there were strict guidelines on every aspect of life; from when to cut hair, to when to make it into a wig. He took no form of humor or nonsense, choosing when the opportunity was presented to just ignore any ploys or jokes thrown his way. His dress attire was the customary black and violet robes that were worn for him position, always crisp and clean. Everything about him suggested a tightened lifestyle fit for the exemplary Christian. It was this that frightened most into obeying him, including her adopted son. Quasimodo had been as the judges mercy all of his life. His grotesque appearance looked upon kindly by the vain and cruel man; despite what the hunchback heard from his adopted father. He was told as soon as he could speak to say the phrase: 'I am ugly' in a mirror, the vocabulary growing more extensive and hurtful as he grew older. It had stung at first; but over the years, the hunchback became accustomed to the ridicule he heard, listening with a passive face all the while. After twenty years, those words lost all meaning; at least from Frollo.

Quasimodo knew he was hideous, but it was worse than a flogging to hear it from someone who hadn't bothered to speak with him. Watching in on Paris' conversations, he had seen and heard things that kept him where he was. Horrible words that he didn't know, the sound of snapping necks and slicing flesh becoming sounds that echoed through the bell towers on occasion, the judge often coming up to watch with Quasimodo from the greatest view in the city; at least, when he wasn't required to read the sentence of death. The hunchback became all too aware of the atrocities of the world below him, most of it coming from the mouth of Frollo. The world was a place he was afraid of, that was, until today. Something within the hunchback broke free. He had spent years watching, but he wanted more than that. Looking on just wasn't enough anymore. Unfortunately for him, the judge would always stand in his way. His thought were interrupted when his ''father'' spoke once more. ' My dear child,' Quasimodo blinked from his silent thoughts. ' Whomever are you talking to?' The question seemed so innocuous, but it made a hard lump form in his throat. If he had heard that, what else had he noticed? ' My;' Quasimodo paused, unable to take the embarrassment. ' Friends.' The hunchback looked down in shame, unable to meet his dark eyes. ' And what, my son,' The judge revealed a basket of woven hay and reeds with a bundle of cheesecloth tucked over the opening and tapped the stone of Victor's still head, the sound chipping rock echoing in the lofty rafters. ' Are your friends made out of?' he seemed to have realized just who Quasimodo was talking to. The hunchback took a deep breath, leaning his arched spine against one of the wooden supports, wanting to shrink back into it and away into nothingness. ' Stone,' he replied in a tone so meek it was barely audible. Frollo held his hand to his adopted child's chin and lifted his fallen head. ' Can stone talk?' he leaned to face the gentle giant. Despite what was the truth, Quasimodo could only say the answer his master would want to hear. ' No, Master.' he responded, his voice cracking. ' Very good,' Frollo smiled and let go of his chin before taking a tall stride to the cushioned stool and sitting down on it, setting the basket on the small table. ' Now,' he nodded curtly. ' Lunch.' Despite the fact that it was ten o'clock in the morning, Quasimodo hobbled over to the shelf that was delicately positioned between the backs of two unfinished statues. On the top shelf was his Master's dish and cup, both resembling the Palace of Justice in an uncanny way, the sharp, jagged and dark angles not unlike what laid on the other end of the Island of the City. While on the lower shelf, there rested his own dishware, a wooden trencher and hand carved cup that was a clear effigy of his life: plain. Taking the plates and cups down with no difficulty at the speed he was going at, Quasimodo dashed back to the table and put the objects down at the correct ends before seating himself on an overturned bucket. Frollo unfolded the cheesecloth to reveal a thin book bound by felt and leather, a red satin ribbon peeking out from between the pages. It had been Frollo's own handicraft, the judge enjoying such things from time to time. Sealed within the parchment paper were large letters, each of which stood for a different word that was meant to undermine and insult the young hunchback. This was how Quasimodo was taught the alphabet. They had started as of last week with the bell ringer getting all the way to H without a hitch. Of course, Quasimodo was well learned on the letters of the alphabet, and was already far more educated in most things grammar-wise than the average peasant, but Frollo either didn't know, or didn't care. ' Shall we review your alphabet today, Quasimodo? ' he asked opening the book in his pale, needle thin fingers. The hunchback looked up from his plate with a veil of discomfort shielding his disdain. He absentmindedly twirled a lock of ginger hair in between his fingers before answering: ' Yes, Master, I would like that very much. ' In a quiet but forward manner. ' Very good, ' the judge offered in a tone that suggested that was as much praise as he would be receiving. ' A,' he removed an aged bottle of wine from the cheesecloth and uncorked it with his nails, pouring a splash of the red liquid into his son's cup. 'Abomination, ' the bell ringer responded in the blink of an eye.
' B,' Frollo continued and poured his glass to halfway right as Quasimodo answered: ' Blasphemy.'
' C,' the judge stuck the cork of the wine back into the bottle. 'Contrition,' he continued with feigned enthusiasm. ' D,' Frollo unwrapped a bundle in the cloth, revealing an aged brie wheel the size of Quasimodo's beefy hand. ' Damnation.'
' E,' the judge removed a knife from his sleeve and sliced a chunk of the smoky cheese for his adopted son, setting it on the wooden trencher as the hunchback answered: ' Eternal Damnation.' With a tone of confidence. ' Good, ' the man responded, knowing that his son had missed E the day before. ' F,' she took a sip of wine from his goblet. 'Festival, ' the bell ringer said, which he immediately brought a hand to his mouth as the judge spit out his wine in shock, tearing a handkerchief from the pocket of his robes and dabbing it to his lips. ' Excuse me?' The judge asked as if not having heard his son correctly. ' Oh, uh; Forgiveness!' The hunchback righted his mistake, but it was too late. ' You said Festival,' Frollo closed the felt cover of the book with a quick motion of his hand as Quasimodo tried to take back what he said, panting heavily from anxiety. 'No! ' he said with a tone of fear louder than the bells. ' You are thinking about going to the festival.' Frollo stood up as his son tried to catch up to him, his limb not slowing him as much as it once did. ' It-it's just that; you go every year and-'
' I;' Frollo cut him off as he started to walk towards the stairs to the balcony. ' Am a public official. I am required to attend. But I don't enjoy a moment of it.' he began walking down the wooden steps in a brisk stride. ' Thieves and cutlasess;' the elder quickened his pace, the red ribbon of his hat trailing behind him with Quasimodo as his shadow. ' The dregs of humankind all...' He trailed off as she struggled to think of the correct word. ' Mixed together in a disgusting, drunken stupor.' Frollo cringed at the idea as he strolled through the tall arch and into the light of the sun. ' I did not mean to upset you, Master, ' the bell ringer said softly from behind him as his son walked through the same archway.
' Quasimodo, that is not what this is about; you do not understand.' the judge reached the bridge between the two bell towers, the view of dreary Paris not impressive to him in the least as Quasimodo reached his guardians side. ' When your heartless mother abandoned you as an infant, left in nothing but a wool blanket on the steps of this very cathedral, anyone else would have drowned you.' he threw a hand over the railing to indicate the people in the streets of Paris. ' And this is the thanks I receive for taking you in and raising you as my son?' The hunchback lowered his face in shame, his ginger hair spilling in short wisps down the crown of his head, his hands clasped in a forgiving manner. ' I am sorry, Master,' he responded softly to the intimidating shadow that was Claude Frollo. ' Oh, my dear boy, ' the judge's gaze softened to one more fatherly. ' You do not know what it's like out there.' He lifted an arm and guided the bell ringer into a comforting hug; if one could call it like that. ' I do, ' they both looked down upon the city, Frollo's black eyes alight with wisdom. ' I do,' he reasserted his claim as if Quasimodo had not heard him the first time