Five figures stood where the day before stood nine, the day before that seventeen. Quasimodo loved it when Esmeralda visited with Phoebus, but Djali was becoming less welcome. True enough, Quasimodo loved Djali, whether or not Djali loved him was in question. It never failed that after a visit that a few things would go missing. Quasi’d never been one for losing things; it was clear where his things were disappearing. Djali’d sit in the tower, chewing his cud. Chewing the townspeople into little bits.

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It was late, the rain was pouring down outside and dripping into the Court of Miracles where the bellringer had joined his friends for a hearty meal beneath the city. The music and dance lasted well into the night, Quasi & Phoebus spending much of the time watching the goings on around them. Eventually, Quasi rose from his seat, Phoebus and Esmeralda following.

Quasi, donning his cloak, stepped out into the dark and rainy night, holding a torch to light his way. The bells needed tending to, as it was nearly midnight. A quick hug from Esmeralda, a manly pat on the shoulder from Phoebus, and he set out into the darkness.

The rain cut through Quasi’s already soaked clothing as he made his way out of the exit on the south end of la Cité. Quasi shielded his eyes from the driving rain with his large hand, which was beginning to chill him greatly. The wind continued to blow at Quasi’s back, causing his woolen cloak to stick to his body, stiffening his already restricted movement even further. Following a particularly wet gust of cold night air, the torch went out. Quasi rolled his eyes as the last bit of light faded away. "Of course!" Tossing the torch into the gutter, Quasi continued on his way to Notre Dame, it couldn’t be that far. He’d made the journey many times before and the route was familiar to him.

Quasimodo walked through the black streets, soaked to the skin. Almost there. Quasi kept moving, just a few more steps and he’d be in the square. He kept walking, his shoes just skimming the water in the streets as he lifted each foot. Suddenly, Quasi stopped, something wasn’t right. Reaching ahead of himself his hands met with a stone wall.

His eyes were now useless to him, so was his knowledge of the city. From the belltower, any street could be found. From the street? Nothing, it was a maze. Calling out would also be useless, for he’d never know if anyone answered him. Quasi swallowed hard and continued. What did it matter if he got more lost? There was no danger of being robbed, the vagabonds knew him & would merely escort him home. A newcomer trying to harm him? They’d run from fright, think he was a demon. After all, no sane person would be walking around aimlessly on a miserable night like this.

Quasi laughed to himself. Being ugly had it’s advantages.

Looking up into the sky, Quasi caught sight of the thin crescent moon peeking out from behind one of the belltowers. Home wasn’t so far, yet impossible to reach. He was on the wrong side of the river; the gates to the city were closed for the night. There was the Court, but both entrances known to him were on the other side of the Seine. He’d never been on this side.

The houses were sealed, everyone sleeping. Quasi continued to walk, splashing through the water which now filled his shoes. There was really nothing to do but wait until morning. Setting himself down on some steps, Quasi drew his cloak around himself and tried to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A rough tongue grazed over Quasi’s hand, waking him. Quasi grunted from being woken up, the response was a gentle bunt in the forehead as he struggled to see through the thick night and pouring rain. Reaching into the darkness, Quasi felt the head of a goat, the right ear bearing a large metal loop. Esmeralda must had come for him. "Esmeralda?" Only Djali remained at his side, no one else was there; Esmeralda would have placed her hand on his shoulder had she been.

Quasi questioned the goat. "Where’s Esmeralda?"

Djali’s reply was another bunt, this time to Quasi’s dripping knee.

"I’m awake Djali. I’m getting up."

Quasi petted Djali in the darkness, feeling many rumbles beneath his fingers as he did so. Djali was bleating madly, Djali has come for him.

Finally, Quasi rose to his feet and resumed his trek through the pouring rain. Djali soon realized that he couldn’t just run off and rely on Quasi to follow him through the black night. Within a few moments, the goat’s side was against Quasi’s leg and the pair were walking expertly through the maze of streets that was Paris, toward Notre Dame.

Once on the steps of the Cathedral, Quasi leapt up the steps and opened the door, which was unbarred. Normally the church would have been sealed up tight, but on this night it wasn’t since Quasi was not there to seal it. There were benefits to being bellringer as well as being ugly. Both him and Djali stepped inside from a cold wet darkness to a warmer drier one. The midnight mass had passed, as there were no candles lit, but the faint scent of sandalwood remained on the air. The smell of home. Quasi barred the great doors; nobody else would be venturing into the church until dawn.

Soon after barring the door, Quasi let through the darkness and up the steps into the belltower, leaving trails and puddles of water behind him. It was three o’clock, Quasi did not know how he knew, he just knew. Not taking off his cloak, he quickly climbed the ladder to the belfry, where he began to set the bells in motion.

When Quasi returned to his living area, he threw his cloak over a gargoyle & began to strike flints to light a taper. It was not that he needed the light anymore, for after twenty years, the belltower was as familiar to him as a bird is with it’s nest. No, Quasi did not need the light. He needed the warmth. He was still sopping wet and chilled to the bone. At last, Quasi got the candle lit and quickly used it to light another, which would light the warm ashes of the fire, which had gone out.

Quasi walked over to the fireplace, where he caught sight of a shivering Djali next to the warm metal. Djali got to his feet as Quasi approached, bleating.

"I’m lighting it now Djali, you’ll be warm soon enough." Quasi lit the fire, lay a few logs on it, the stepped into his "room" where he quickly discarded his wet clothes. Shuffling through his new things, Quasi slipped on a blue dressing gown & wrapped himself in one of the blankets he’d acquired in the Court of Miracles. Why Esmeralda had given him light blue, he didn’t know, but it was dry so he didn’t argue with himself further. He then returned to the fire where Djali sat warming himself contentedly, and hung up is drenched garments.

"Phaw! I leave the room for a goat." Quasi exclaimed as he laid down on the floor.

Quasi finally let himself relax as he stretched out on the hard planks. He was now dry and warming quickly. He’d almost spent the night outside in the cold, wet, dark night alone. A friend had rescued him from that, a friend he wasn’t certain he had until now.

"Come here, Djali"

Djali’s nose was soon in Quasi’s face, nuzzling and licking him.

"Dear Djali, I was certain you hated me! You’ve eaten most of my village, you make a mess of the tower and you trip me while I climb the stairs. I am fairly certain you even turned away when you first saw my face. Then you did what you did tonight, left the Court to find me and bring me back here." Djali nuzzled him a bit more, then lay at Quasimodo’s side, away from the fire. Quasi reached down his left side and out of his line of vision, where the goat soon found his hand.

"Thank-you Djali. " Scratching Djali behind the ears, Quasi spoke as he quickly approached sleep. In two hours the bellringer would be brought from his bed once more to ring the bells & open the church. Djali remained by his side until morning.