Morning in Paris, the city awakes
To the bells of Notre Dame
The fisherman fishes, the bakerman 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

Lukas walked slowly walked over to the stand that he and Mathias had made. He watched his friend use some puppets and made the children laugh. The laughter mixed with the sounds of the bells and the yells of the people creating a familiar sound. Mathias spotted him and waved. "Are you guys ready to hear a story?" He asked. The children nodded and cheered as Lukas stepped onto the small platform.

"Listen, they're beautiful, no?" Lukas asked, pausing to listen to the bells. He sat down beside Mathias who had put all of his puppets away and had a huge smile on his face.

"So many colors of sound, so many changing moods because you know, they don't ring all by themselves," Lukas stated.

"They don't?" Mathias asked.

"No, silly boy," Lukas rolled his eyes. He then turned and pointed at the bell tower.
"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," Lukas hit Mathias on the head causing the man to frown.

"and Lukas 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

A boat slipped through the water as a group of Gypsies attempted to get in the city. A baby began to cry and the men looked at the woman in their group. She rocked the child in her arms. "Shut it up, will you!"

"We'll be spotted!

"Hush, little one," The woman whispered hurriedly.

Four frightened gypsies slid silently under
The docks near Notre Dame

The boat slid to a stop on the shore and the gypsies jumped out of the boat. "Four guilders for safe passage into Paris," The ferryman held his hand out, a sinister grin on his face.

"Stop," A man yelled. The group turned to face the man and their blood ran cold.

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

The bells of Notre Dame

The woman slid close to her husband who clutched her and their child. "Judge Francis Bonnefoy," He gasped. The young, blonde man smiled sinisterly.

Judge Francis Bonnefoy 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," Francis sighed and waved a hand to signal his guards. They saluted and began to place shackles on the men. One guard noticed the baby in the woman's arms.

"You there, what are you hiding?" He asked, attempting to grab the bundle from her arms. She kicked him and took a few steps back. Her eyes flew to Francis and she silently pleaded with him.

"Stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her," Francis grinned.

She ran.

The woman raced down the narrow alleyway, dashing between barrels and chests. Francis was close behind her on his horse. She ran up the steps of the church and pounded on the door. "Sanctuary, please give us sanctuary!" She yelled. No one answered. She heard the sound of hooves going up the steps and took off again.

Francis grabbed the bundle from her arms and kicked her when she didn't let go. She fell down the steps and hit her head. The bundle began to cry. "A baby?" Francis removed the cloth covering the baby's face. He stared at it then noticed a well at the bottom of the steps. "I'm doing you a favour, child," He sighed as he brushed it's blonde hair out of it's face and directed his horse towards the well.

"Sorry," He held the child over the well and was about to let go.

"STOP!"

Cried the Archdeacon

"This is a gypsy child," Francis explained. "I'm riding it of a life of pain and ridicule." The Archdeacon noticed the woman lying on the steps and knelt beside her. He felt for her pulse and lowered his head when he realized she was dead.

"See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame," He sighed.

Francis frowned, "I am guiltless. She ran, I pursued."

"Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame?" The Archdeacon asked.

"My conscience is clear," Francis insisted, holding the child to his chest. It had stopped crying and was breathing quietly.

"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 Archdeacon pointed to the statues that lined the outside of Notre Dame. "The very eyes of Notre Dame."

And for one time in his live
Of power and control

Francis felt a twinge of fear
For his immortal soul

"What must I do?" Francis asked, shaking slightly.

"Care for the child, and raise it as your own," The Archdeacon picked up the woman's body and turned to enter the church.

"What? I can't raise …" Francis paused. "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," Francis smiled and looked at the bell tower. "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."

And Francis gave the child a name
And kept him hidden away in the tower.

Lukas smiled and leaned forward toward the children. "Now here is a riddle to guess if you can sing the bells of Notre Dame," He paused. "Who is the monster and who is the man?"

A/N

Plot bunny that has been bothering me for a long time. I just love this movie!

France - Frollo

Canada - Quasimodo (I love you, please forgive me)

America - Phoebus

England - Esmeralda

Will follow most of story but with some aspects changed. Should I continue?