Sadly, I don not own Frollo or Esmeralda…Victor Hugo is the man to credit for the awesome characters.
It was a pleasant warm day in March, the suns rays where seeping through the clouds casting a light upon the stage of Paris. People could be heard laughing and talking to one another as a cool breeze passes through the thin clothing of the Parisians, but it was a warm day, and no woman, man or child was complaining about the heat.
Ray's of light passed through the large windows of the great Notre Dame cathedral casting the colours of the stain glass windows to shine upon the floor. It was a breath taking sight to see the colours and sounds of the Latin hymns being praised to the one God. There was hardly a shadow within the scared place of sanctuary except for the cloaked figure of a man.
He was in his mid thirties, but he seemed more in his fifties to the untamed eye. There were signs of balding around the sides of his head, and his lips were drawn in a tight frown, dark eyes flaring. There was a priest of Notre Dame, a very holy and looked up to kind of man, holding a book of the Lord tightly in his hand as he walked to the bell tower of Notre Dame. Claude Frollo was a teacher to the hunchback that he saved 25 years ago; to him it was his duty by God to help this poor creature.
That pleasant March morning he happened to pass by the window leading to his room when he heard the jingle of a tambourine and the sound of tiny bells flying in the air. Curiosity got the better of him so he turned his gaze to the outside window, there he had to grab onto something afraid that he would fall. He dropped his book and grabbed the cold stonewalls in his bony hands, there was an angel dancing in the streets of Paris disguised as a common gypsy. Never had a woman caught his attention before, but this was no woman it had to be the Virgin Mary herself in the flesh.
The gypsy he saw was about 15 years of age, dressed in coloured clothes, bells and a tambourine. She had dark hair, which seemed black, but was a dark brown with dark eyes to match. She danced waving her arms high in the air, bare shoulders glowing and wrists with bangles on them shined in the suns light. She danced to the beat of her tambourine with a little goat at her side too dancing to the beat.
Frollo could not take his eyes away from this beauty, his heart raced, his blood boiled and he felt emotions that he never felt before…lust, desire and want. Quickly he turned his eyes away from the scene, afraid if he were to watch any longer, he would topple to his death through the wide window where his figure now hunched over in the act of trying to regain composure.
That was it…he wanted her, for if she would not be his, she would be no man's. Turning from his window, he hurried into his room for a better look, one last look…pressing his face to the window of his cell, he continued to watch his angel, his gypsy, his salvation…