#danisha

Darling, please try to eat something", Claude Frollo gently persuaded as I picked over my breakfast. My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep; I felt wiped out. Claude was naturally worried about me, for I hadn't eaten nor slept since Jules' death three days ago. My mind focused on Renee, who, with the exception of Phoebus, truly had no family.

But… Phoebus is still around. She has family.

Pushing my plate aside, I finally said to Claude, "What if I took Renée home? I mean, I think she could adjust to the 20th Century. I should've taken both of them - that summer." Claude kissed my hands and replied, "My love, I remember when you asked me that same question: 'Come to the 20th Century with me'." He allowed himself to chuckle a bit from the memory of our parting that summer. Then Claude continued, "Nisha, please realize that Renee would never adjust to your 20th Century. She'd be so overwhelmed, so utterly lost -- Just as I'm still somewhat lost whenever I visit your time."

Actually, she is a child and thus has better neuroplasticity. So she would adjust much better. There is literally no reason for the author to not bring this child to the 20th century other than the fact that she wouldn’t be immune to our diseases or used to our food, which is a moot point because the author’s ignored this thus far.

I thought over what he said; and, yes, Claude still has a tough time coping with 20th Century life. I very well couldn't ask a 15th Century pre-teen to come live with me. It would only confuse Renee at a time when she needed all the love and support from familiar faces. "Where is Renee? Still at the Chateau d'Arcy?" Claude walked over to the little table and poured two cups of coffee. He replied, "No, my dearest. She is at Notre Dame, visiting Quasimodo." Claude sighed as he added, "Phoebus is with her." I looked at Claude in slight puzzlement as he handed me a coffee cup. "I take it Phoebus has yet to find Esmeralda." Claude only nodded as I continued. "She's the key to all this, you know. She's the one who can finger Malus' accomplice." Claude suspected a particular person however, he needed proof, and Esmeralda was the only one who could positively identify him.

No, leave Esmeralda alone! Don’t bring her into this nonsense even more than she has to be!

Claude Frollo grew strangely silent, then, finally said angrily, "I should've had Esmeralda dragged from the cathedral. Damn Phoebus! 'Falling in love' with her - You see what has happened since!" I nodded, as my thoughts turned to Phoebus. Poor guy. Although I've known him a few days, I felt a little empathy towards him, now that he'd suffered a broken marriage and the loss of a relative.

”Though we set out for lands unknown, they’re lands we’ll share.” -Esmeralda to Phoebus, hugging him

“No!” Esmeralda, jumping in front of Phoebus and sacrificing her own safety to stop him from being arrested 

But they’re totally not in love! Esmeralda’s a witch!

I sat silently as Claude continued to berate Esmeralda. I paid no particular attention to what he was saying, as images of the past few years swirled in my mind. How odd, that certain decisions and actions could affect so many lives.I couldn't hold in my emotions any longer; I felt a tear fall from my eye, the first tears shed in three days. Claude, still pacing the room and damning Esmeralda, suddenly changed his mood as I began to speak in a stammering voice.

Actually, pacing around yelling at Esmeralda for something she is in no way responsible for is pretty in character for him. This won’t last long, I bet.

"It's all so crazy...Oh Claude!...those poor kids...Everything's happening so fast..." That said, I broke down in uncontrollable sobs. Claude Frollo rushed to my side; I welcomed his warm embrace and loving words. "My love, Danisha, my sweet love", he began reassuredly. "Everything will be all right, my dear -- There, there, Nisha -- Let it all out, love." He carried me back to the bed and cradled me as I cried.

Ugh, just let her cry. No one likes her.

Somehow, through the depths of my grief, I felt a slight twinge of resentment towards Esmeralda. After all, she's as much to blame for all this mess. Why won't she come clean? Why won't she identify Malus' accomplice?

Because she doesn’t know him and has nothing to do with this stupid thing?

I pushed those thoughts from my mind as Claude continued to hold and kiss me. He's so sweet to me...I really think things will be all right. He was just as warm and comforting on that last day -- that summer...

************ [long sappy passage about them leaving each other, cut for time because it was awful and stupid] "Pardon the intrusion on this tender moment, but I do believe we're ready to go", said Fern. I guess this is it... Claude walked with us to the car. I squeezed his hand tightly as Fern unlocked the doors. "Oh Claude! How I wish you were coming with me!", I said, my voice quavering. I then invited him to the 20th Century, "just for a day. We can go the State Fair. There's so much I want to show you." Claude just kissed me again, saying, "My love, we've had this conversation before. You know I would never fit in your time, just as you would never fully be happy here. I love you so dearly; I'd never deprive you of your happiness."

Well, he wouldn’t know, seeing as he’s never been to her time! Ugh, the angst.

I understood completely. A few days ago, Claude had asked me to be his wife, but knowing his weakness for women, and there were many, I politely refused. Besides, as he said, I would never fully adjust to life in the 15th Century.

Is he not a member of the clergy? How would he marry her?

I watched Claude Frollo as Fern started the motor. He sadly smiled as I waved good-bye. I could read his lips as he silently said, "I love you." My eyes were locked on Claude as Fern steered the car onto the main road. Just before Fern floored the accelerator and depressed that button, I looked back one more time. All I could see was a blurry figure astride a black stallion; then, I was engulfed by a bright, white light...

Thank God that’s over… right? Right? Dear God, let me be right.

************ I was already dressed when Claude returned to his chambers. I was beginning to feel somewhat happy again, although my mind was still on the recent tragic events. ...perhaps it was all for the best... Claude kissed my lips, then said, "Ready to go, my love?" We were going to Notre Dame to visit Quasimodo. He too, was stung by the news of Phoebus' failed marriage to Esmeralda. "And I trusted her!", Quasi said to me the day after Jules' death. Poor Quasi - duped!He really needed our support.

This constant berating of Esmeralda is beyond annoying to read. Leave her alone, she didn’t ask for this! Why must you do this to her?

"Darling, you look stunning!" Claude was referring to my attire of a smart, floor-length purple dress and that black mink cloak he gave me last Christmas.

No one cares.

Come to think of it, I was wearing this cloak on that day after the Feast of Fools, when I encountered that sham Claude Frollo... We heard raised voices coming from the Place de Notre-Dame. "Whatever is going on?", Claude asked a nearby guard. "Your Grace", began the sergeant, "it's Captain Phoebus! He's found his wife -- la Esmeralda." Claude Frollo's expression was - well - I don't think I've ever seen an expression quite like it. "Arrest the gypsy witch!", demanded Claude, then he turned to me and said, "Finally, I'll make that conspiring vixen pay for her crimes."

NO. “Conspiring vixen?!” She was a Romani person in a time when they were hated by most (even more than the racism against them now!) who danced to make money, because shocking enough, people have to eat. 

I watched Phoebus and Esmeralda argue; her rough-edged voice grated on my nerves like a file on steel bars. I then said to Claude, "Wait a minute, baby. Let me take care of something."

Yeah, not like she has many musical numbers and makes money by singing and  dancing for people... but sure, Esmeralda’s voice is SO grating!

Claude looked puzzled. "My dear, I've waited all this time. Surely you understand that..." I interrupted him, "Oh no, sugarbritches." I kissed him, adding, "I know you want this gal, but I have some unfinished business of my own." I left Claude's side and walked over to Phoebus and Esmeralda. Poor Phoebus appeared bewildered and weary from Esmeralda's griping.

Griping?! This woman has been hunted, groped, assaulted and almost murdered. She’s nearly died multiple times at Frollo’s hands. If that happened to me, I’d gripe too! Esmeralda should be doing a lot more than griping. Like stabbing someone. I’d support that.

She carried on how she "was never in love" with Phoebus, and that she just used Quasi to "finally let Frollo get what was coming to him; then that New World gal had to spoil everything!" I tapped Esmeralda on the shoulder; she wheeled around to face me. "Do I know you?", she coldly asked. My gaze was as cool and level as hers. "I believe we've met a couple of years ago. But as the Minister of Justice says...No matter." Her eyes widened in sheer astonishment when she realized just who was standing before her.

Astonishment that she’s met the worst human being to ever exist on this cruel, cruel Earth?

"You! I've should've known..." That said, she hauled off and tried to land a perfect right jab, but I was quicker. My hand blocked hers; then I gave her the 'sistah' treatment, much to the amusement of the crowd, especially for Claude Frollo. "Look here, babee," I said in a raised, full-o'-sass voice, "I don't know WHAT kind of scam you pullin', but it ain't cool. Know what I'm sayin', sugah?"

And here we go with the stupid, racist yammering again with the annoying fake accent. Oh, shut up. Just let Esmeralda deck her already!

Esmeralda looked at me with big green eyes; the poor girl didn't know what hit her! She stood motionless as I continued to give her what I called "The Big Payback".

Poor girl is right. I want to hug Esme :(

"And just where do you get off usin' good folks like my buddy, Quasimodo. That was lowdown and low-class. Messin' with a sweet kid like Quas. That boy's like my family. And you don't wanna mess with my family!" Esmeralda's eyes were full of fire as she began to speak.

You know what’s low class? Treating a 20-something man like a stupid child. Going on screaming, racist rants against Roma randomly with no reason to. Treating a genocidal maniac like a defenseless baby and treating the victim of several violent crimes like she asked for it. That’s low class.

"Are you quite finished?", she said through clenched teeth. I shot back the "I'm-gonna-knock-you-out" look as I kept assaulting the gypsy with my words. NOTICE FROM THE AUTHOR: The remainder of FrolloFreak's vocal chastisement of Esme can't be printed, because it's UNPRINTABLE! The rest is cool, though. :-)

I don’t even want to know what she was going to put here. The bits she did actually include are horrible in every way, so the fact that she wrote something so racist and terrible she didn’t want to include it worries me. 

Esmeralda was livid! She trembled with rage, so totally outdone that this postmodern American 'sistah' had verbally tore her apart. "You filthy-mouthed..." , Esmeralda said, as she tried to sock me. Blocking her blow, I then said to her, "Honey, I'm not a violent person. I prefer to take you out with words. But..."

i swear to god, if she-

I removed my cloak and hat, handed them to a nearby woman, then hauled off and knocked Esmeralda to the ground. I think I broke a tooth because she was holding her jaw, and I believe I saw a tear. Esmeralda knew she had been bested.

What the fuck? Did she just punch an innocent woman in the face and knock her down for absolutely no reason? What the fuck?!

I put on my cloak and hat as Claude summoned the guards to take Esmeralda away to the Palace of Justice. As the soldiers put her in shackles, I walked up to her, squared my shoulders proudly, and in a firm, clear voice, said, "Baby, let me give you some advice. The next time you give a man an almost lap-dance, get him all hot and sweaty, and don't follow through...Honey, don't expect him to be too accommodating the second time." That said, the soldiers dragged the gypsy dancer away.

Yes, it’s all Esme’s fault here! Obviously she was asking for it all! And why is she being arrested and put in shackles for being punched by a crazy lady?! What does the universe have against Esmeralda here!? 

“Why me, of all people?”- Esmeralda, as Frollo grabs her in her cell and TRIES TO FUCKING RAPE HER 

Claude Frollo, who stood nearby during the entire episode, endeavored to keep his utter amusement in check. He walked up next to me, and laughingly said in my ear, "My love, that was...I can't describe it!"

I have no words either, because that’s just messed up!

He then led me through the cathedral doors; Quasimodo was standing at the foot of the bell tower steps. Quasi embraced me, saying, "I guessed Esmeralda had it coming to her. Gee", Quasi glanced over at Phoebus who had just walked in the cathedral with Renee. "Poor Phoebus. And I was mad at him for nothing."

NO. SHE DID NOT. Poor Esmeralda! I don’t even want to know what’s going to happen to her now… I almost wish she’d just die and ascend to heaven already. She’d be in a better place. Seriously, if all these characters died in a bloodbath I’d be happy, because the nice ones would go to heaven and Danisha and Frollo would go to the “fiery pit.”

And I actually am sort of sympathetic for Phoebus! He just saw his wife get assaulted and then dragged away by soldiers!

Claude then said to his young charge, "Dear boy, why don't you show Renee the cathedral." He turned to me, adding, "Malus never saw fit to bring his siblings to church; Renee hasn't set foot inside since her parents' death." Claude, sensing that his bleak words may have a negative affect on Renee, then said to Quasi, "Besides, I would like to be alone with this charming lady." A broad smile spread across Claude Frollo's face. He took my hand into his, saying to Quasi, "Run along, boy. Then you can bring little Renee to the belltower", his voice lowered to a whisper as he told Quasi, "But not now!"

Wait, not only did she hit a woman in the face and knock her down and then have her arrested, she did this in front of an eleven-year-old? What the fuck?!

Claude gave me a quick wink; Quasi even returned the wink as Quasimodo met Renee and Phoebus at the far end of Notre Dame. I then turned to Claude and asked, "What was that all about?"

You’re a sick, twisted person, that’s what it’s about!

Claude held my hand tightly, then leaned over and said, his words punctuated with deep chuckles, "I have something to say to you. A compliment, no less..." I knew he was referring to that little altercation outside. Now even I couldn't keep from giggling as Claude and I ascended the belltower steps.

Chapter Fourteen

"How long have I been out?", I groggily asked Claude, who was now rocking me in his arms and stroking my hair. The room was dark except for a few candles Claude had lit. I could hear the cathedral bells in the distance. He kissed me tenderly and his mouth broadened into a smile. "Judging by the bells of Notre Dame, nearly two hours. I had a feeling this would be too much for you; I felt it best to let you sleep off the shock."

She… fainted, I guess? The frequency at which she feels dizzy or passes out has me wondering if she has some sort of medical condition. And being out for that long indicates a serious problem. That isn’t healthy.

He was right; I had passed out after Claude revealed the real reasons I was brought to medieval Paris. Fern had come to Paris several times during the previous winter and spring; come to think of it, her visits coincided with her hitting the lottery. She met Claude Frollo, gained his confidence, and became a spy. Claude felt that Fern's American Heartland demeanor would be the perfect ruse in apprehending petty criminals.

What? He picked a woman from America because he figured it would help him catch criminals? Couldn’t he have just found a French girl willing to be his spy? If he’s as much of a sexbomb with as many adoring fangirls as this story portrays him as, he should have no issues with finding a woman who would be willing to help him. And a French girl would actually know the laws of the time and place, unlike these stupid American rednecks.

He soon became fascinated by Fern's quick wit and keen intellect; Fern's 'hick-from-the-sticks' mannerisms belied a sharp mind. Fern told Claude everything: The time-travel device, about Jacki, the specially equipped 1959 Chevy, and, she told him about me. "She told me all about you, even showed me your picture." Claude kissed me as he continued. "I was truly fascinated, Danisha, so much that I wanted to meet you, perhaps become better acquainted. I'm glad you accepted her invitation, to come to Paris."

He literally was so obsessed with her that he decided to try and uproot her from her normal life just to make out with her? Why does everyone in this story love Danisha past any logical reasoning? She’s a huge asshole and a horrible person.

Even in my half-conscious state, I had a tough time believing all this; I mean, how could a 15th century man be introduced to 20th century women, only to find out the truth, and not accuse us of being witches?

Because this story doesn’t make any sense whatsoever and you’re a Mary Sue. That’s why.

Claude smiled as he immediately explained, "My love, kindly leave the superstitions to the common crowd. I'm not as close-minded as some would have you to believe." He knelt before me, kissed my hands, and continued to explain.

But he does believe in witchcraft. Evidenced by him trying to burn Esmeralda to death for being “under suspicion of sorcery and witchcraft, and the arts of hell.”

"Darling, did it ever occur to you why I didn't laugh at your comment, 'I like reading New World history'?" I looked at him with astonishment. "Claude...now I remember...I mean, I wondered...", I stammered, still trying to fathom it all. "My love", Claude continued, "I will not pretend to understand everything about your country, your time; but for once in my life, Nisha, I feel I have been given a wonderful gift..."

And what if Danisha wasn’t a weirdo with a Frollo fetish? What if she was just a normal woman who would be grossed out by him like 90% of people? He would have raped and/or murdered her like he tried to do with Esmeralda.

He paused to kiss my mouth and run his fingers through my hair, then he continued, "...and that's the opportunity of finding a love that transcends all time and space.." Claude kissed me again and I couldn't help but respond to his every caress. Then I asked him, "So that's where you got the whiskey, from Fern?" Claude nodded as he walked over to table, picked up the Mason jar, and replied, "She gave this to me last winter; I had a slight cold at the time and she said it would help. It is rather good, although I rarely indulge in strong drink."

Getting drunk is a bad way to fix a cold. And why would Fern warn Danisha not to get involved with him if that was the entire point of this little “vacation” to 1400s France?

"I enjoy a good shot of whiskey every now and then", I offered, now feeling more like myself, although I was still somewhat in shock from all the secrets revealed. "Fern always keeps it Mason jars", I continued laughingly, "She said it reminds her of her childhood...You see, Fern's great-Uncle Virl kept a still..."

She buys special Mason jars to put whiskey in? Why?

Claude joined in my good humor, "I believe she told me he kept it hidden in the woods, not too far from...what was the name of the town?" "Beanblossom, Indiana", I answered, "right in the heart of Brown County." Claude chuckled as he opened the jar and poured a little of the contents into a small glass. "Odd name for a town. Quaint, but odd", he said as he offered me the first sip.

So evidently, Beanblossom Indiana in Brown County is indeed a real place. You can find it on Google Maps, and you can also find all of the other various places listed in this fanfiction. This author also says several minor OCs like Jacki Darcey are named after people in her town, specifically, her students. That seems like a massive invasion of privacy- listing the names of several people that were not involved in the creation of this story, as well as the town they live in and the school they go to. Seeing as this person claims to be a high school teacher and says the characters are named after students, they are likely underage. So this woman is posting the names, school and residence of several minors without their permission. Ignore the Frollo-fetish, that’s the real messed up thing here.

I feebly tried to protest, "Claude, I usually don't drink hard liquor in the summer, but..." I took a small sip, rolled the whiskey around inside my mouth, then felt it burn as I swallowed. I handed the glass back to Claude, who in turn took a taste. "Ooh", he sighed, as he swallowed it, "that is...mmm..." His mouth curved into that famous, broad smile, and I, having regained my bearings, joined in his good humor. We soon broke down in laughter and relief; I fell into Claude's arms. "Claude, I love you!", I said, kissing his lips. He returned the kiss and held me close. "And I love you, Nisha darling..."

So I suppose they’re on good terms again? I don’t know, their relationship changes like the wind.

He kissed me again, then said at last, "Do you and Fern still have it?" "Have what, baby?", I asked, uncertain of his inquiry. "The machine...the one that plays your 20th century music." Once again, I was taken aback. "You knew about THAT, too?", I asked, wondering what else Fern told him about 20th century American life and culture. Claude looked at me, his eyes clothed in smiles and sparkles. "Oh my dear, Fern gave me many insights to your culture; and I must say, your American music is rather fascinating...perhaps somewhat harsh for our 15th century ears...but fascinating nonetheless."

Part of me wants to put some obnoxious screamo on and see how he reacts to it, but I doubt he’d like that. After all, he only likes music the author/Mary Sue likes.

I stared at him in amazement. "What other surprises are you gonna spring on me, Claude Frollo?" Claude burst into hearty laughter as he refilled the glass, then, settling himself on the couch, said, "I believe all secrets have been revealed...Now... a little music, my dear." I walked over to the cabinet where Fern and I kept the CD boombox and began selecting a few discs, then I glanced over at Claude who was smiling pleasantly and started giving me steamy, come-on looks.

He’s turned on by Motown? Eh, still not the weirdest fetish here.

Look at him sitting over there, smiling and looking at me like nothing happened....I mean, he comes over...I cook him a nice supper, and expect a romantic evening...then he KO's me by telling me he knew Fern and everything....I'll play him some music all right... I selected a steamy assortment of country tunes and old R & B. "Claude", I sweetly said as I loaded the CDs in the machine, "would you like me to sing to you?" Claude Frollo raised an eyebrow as he took second sip of whiskey. "My darling, I would love to hear you sing. You have such a lovely voice."

I guess Danisha’s a Disney Princess now? My God, she’s like Esmeralda, but with all of Esmeralda’s likable traits taken away and replaced with racism and a weird fetish. 

He smiled again, adding that he remembered hearing me sing to the children. "But Claude, those were kids' songs..", I paused, taking great care not reveal my 'surprise', "How about a nice love song?", Claude said as he grinned broadly. "A sweet, tender love song...I would love to hear it." "Whatever you say, sweet Claude." I tried not to laugh as I hit the play button; I turned to face Claude saying, "OK baby, here goes.." Soon the blare of saxophones, the pounding of drums and bass, assailed Claude Frollo's ears like nothing he'd ever experienced.

That… does not sound pleasant. Using the verb “assaulted” is a good way to make any scene seem violent. That does not set the mood for a love song.

Noting his look of utter amazement, I began enjoying my little game; my body began to rock and sway to the rhythm as I sang along with Ray Charles:

You know the night time; Is the right time; To be, with the one you love... Poor Claude didn't know what hit him! I could tell he was getting turned on because he couldn't take his eyes off me; I was enjoying the amorous expression on his face! I sashayed toward him just as the Raylettes hollered:

Baby! (night and day) Baby! (night and day) Baby! (night and day) You know I love you...

Oh, shut up. No fanfiction needs random musical numbers inserted into it. It doesn’t add anything, or move the plot along. It’s not entertaining. It’s just stupid.

I shimmied up to Claude, who by now was clearly aroused. He let out a sigh of pleasant approval as I sidled next to him, grinding my hips, while I stroked his silky gray hair and continued to croon the lyrics in my dark, smoky alto. Now, I know it wasn't the whiskey, for Claude only had a couple of sips, but what happened next really took me by surprise. As soon as the song finished, Claude got to his feet, looked at me with smoldering eyes,and in a sexy, growling voice, said, "I don't remember when I had so much fun...Danisha...You are...amazing!"

“You are… a Mary Sue!”

He drew closer to me, took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. I felt a shiver of desire surge through my body. "Mmm", I sighed with delight as Claude continued to caress my neck and shoulders. Ooh!...the feel of his lips, his teeth, his tongue...his tender, yet passionate words of love. And Claude knew all the words! He moaned his pleasure as I returned each and every caress with fiery hunger.

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew… please stop, please. This is disgusting. Also, how would he know all the words to that song? Does he listen to it on repeat or something?

Claude then released me and gave me the sexiest come-on look yet. "Now, my sweet", he growled sensuously as he began to slowly grind his pelvis -- a singularly deliberate, erotically charged movement, "Show me that move again."

I DO NOT NEED TO SEE FROLLO DOING PELVIC THRUSTS. NO.

My eyes followed his every movement - He never told me he could move like that! - as I hit the play button. Soon we were dancing....er, did I say dancing?... It was more like 'dirty dancing' as Claude matched my every movement, every twist and shimmy, every bump and grind. I never knew Claude was so sensual! I was almost shocked as he held my body oh-so close to his while in mid-grind. Oh!...He's so...Ooh...

NO. I NEED BRAIN BLEACH.

He continued to caress me with his mouth, hands, and body for the duration of the song. Desire took me on a wild, mad ride; it was like riding a runaway roller coaster. I just couldn't stand another moment of contact unless Claude was going to take this seduction routine further. Mmmm...don't stop yet, honey. There are so many vacation spots I long to visit...spots that WE long to visit...

I WANT TO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE.

When the song finished, Claude released me and stared in my eyes. His mouth twitched into a wide, sexy-wicked grin; we soon fell to floor laughing, still holding on to each other. "Honey", I said between giggles, "I never knew..." Claude rolled me on my back and kissed my neck and face. "Oh my Nisha...sweet girl...you are hardly a girl....I never knew you to be so....sensual, so uttlerly desirable."

THOSE WORDS AND CLAUDE FROLLO SHOULD NOT BE IN THE SAME SENTENCE.

He continued to kiss and caress me; then he sat up and glanced toward the stairs. There was no need to figure out exactly what Claude was thinking; I had a feeling it would all come to this eventually. He helped me to my feet, embraced me again as another song played. I felt another giggle coming on as the strains of Charlie Rich wafted through the room. Claude kissed me again, then guided me up the stairs and towards my room.

Please, let this stop here. Please.

"When we get behind closed doors...", I started crooning the lyrics as Claude led me through my bedroom door, still kissing and caressing my face and body. "Take the ribbon from my hair..." Claude ran his fingers through my hair as I slowly loosened the buckle of his belt. His moans of desire sent a thrill through my body; he guided me toward the bed. We continued to caress each other, following droplets of perspiration to far-off, exotic places.....

God, why have you forsaken me?

It must have been close to dawn; the sounds of the cathedral bells awoke me. I watched Claude as he slept, stroked his soft gray hair and traced his handsome features. I would do this many times afterwards...

Oh, thank god, they skipped the smut. Though that was a really strange and unclear timeskip. Maybe indicate it more next time with some asterisks or somethng?

Claude began to stir, stretching that long, gorgeous, slender body. I slid closer to him. "Claude?" He opened his eyes, drew himself closer to me, and kissed my lips. "Good Morning, darling", he began. I looked at him in semi-amusement. "Morning, honey...even though it's not quite daylight", I replied, returning the kiss. Claude chuckled as he held me close to him.

Ugh, stop. I don’t want to hear his body described like that. Yuck.

"Everything was...Oh my dear Nisha...so beautiful, so wonderful", he softly said, as he let his tongue graze my ear and neck. I returned the caress. "Ooh baby, I love you so much....I really..." I had to stop myself because I knew this was only temporary. As of August, the many nights of passion Claude and I had yet to share, would be just sweet memories. I didn't want to spoil the tender moments we were sharing now.

Why can’t she just stay here longer? Sure, she has a job, but she can come back on weekends and holidays, right? Fern would let her borrow the car if she cared enough about Frollo and Danisha’s relationship to spend an entire summer here.

I just kissed him again, then realized that we never had supper. Oh no! The food stayed out all night; our meal was ruined!

I would have expected for it to have started a fire at this point! I wish it did. Then these characters would be dead.

OK, be cool...you can whip something together... "Claude", I said as I got up and put on a robe, "Are you hungry?" Claude Frollo shot me a look that would've made Jackie Collins blush. He pursed his lips together in an 'air kiss' and said, "Ooh....how did you know I was still..." I shot back the look. "I meant for food, baby!" At once, Claude and I broke up in laughter as I embraced and kissed him again. "Let's take care of our appetite for food...then...."

No. We are not going through this again. I refuse to sit here and watch them awkwardly have sex again. No.

Claude smiled as he snuggled under the covers. "Don't be too long, dearest, for I am ravenously hungry." I heard him laugh as I walked out of the room saying, "Damn, for a man over fifty, you sure have healthy appetites..."

Well, we never see him eat, so I wouldn’t know! Then again, this author would probably try to make it “erotic…” so on second thought, I don’t want to hear it so much anymore.

***********

I had been awake less than an hour. It finally stopped raining, but it was getting colder. I snuggled closer to Claude in effort to warm myself. Mmm...feels so good lying here next to him. Just like that first night...it wasn't cold, that's for sure...

So… modern-day again? It’s hard to tell because she switches timelines so frequently.

My reverie was disrupted by a knock on the door. Claude immediately awakened. "They must have found him', he said, his voice still heavy with sleep. He got up and went to the door. I could hear serious conversation between Claude and one of his guards. Then Claude returned to my side. He gently kissed me and held me for several moments.

So he just had an entire conversation with a soldier under his command while wearing nothing but a robe? That’s odd, and that soldier, like me, is probably scarred for life now.

At last he said, "The soldier, and my Snowball, have been found, and near a place that should be familiar to you." Claude didn't have to explain any further; I knew exactly what he meant.

I sat in the car hoping the figure I saw was him. By now I was really getting concerned. Several minutes passed; I forget how long I sat there and waited.

You waited several minutes. You just said that.

To keep myself occupied, I began to think about our first encounter. I was not exactly what he had expected -- I was a little older than most of his FSMs, and possessed a habit of speaking my mind he found most endearing.

So you’re an FSM, and specifically “his” FSM. So is that like a mistress? Is there a harem of women obsessed with Frollo? What even is this?! The fact that Frollo in this universe is somehow sexually appealing enough to have a massive following of fangirl/stalkers/mistresses is not only confusing and disturbing, it just doesn’t make sense. The entire plot was driven by him being sexually attracted to Esmeralda, not knowing how to control that attraction, and deciding the best course of action was murder (and at one point in the musical, attempted rape) because’s he’s crazy. If he has this many people who he loves/has sex with why would Esmeralda’s relatively tame dance drive him to insanity?

I'll never forget his expression as I walked across the square towards the Palace of Justice. I was sashaying in a colorful dress that didn't exactly hide my curves, my dark wavy hair tied with a kente scarf, letting my hips sway to an old rhythm-n-blues tune playing in my head which was held high and proud. I remembered sitting just within eyeshot of the colonnade showing my big legs and Claude Frollo said he felt a blast of tropical heat hitting him in the face that very moment I raised my big brown eyes to the tall slender man standing on the balcony. All those young Paris bucks tried to make small talk with this proud American princess. I answered one such little man, playfully mind you, and in my best old-Negro dialect, "Ah belongs to no man, 'cept Mins'ter Frollo." (Of course, he and I weren't an item as of yet)

Something about this feels very racist, and I don’t like it. And if you weren’t an item, why would you describe yourself as belonging to him?

Claude was so sweet, so attentive that summer. We read poetry to each other, I cooked some good old soul food, taught him to like old Motown, told him stories and jokes that made him laugh. He called me his "sweet brown sugared lady" and said he would always look forward to my sweet, wild-honey kisses.

But he’s crazy and would probably burn you as witch if he found you attractive, because he’s insane!

I started to cry at that memory, but fought back tears just in time to hear a pounding on the rear window. I got out of the car, walked around towards the trunk, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Claude!" I embraced him, kissed his cold but still-inviting mouth. "I got here as fast as I could." Claude looked at me with relief and gratitude, "I thought you'd never come. Oh, my dear Nisha....my love...I went...swim...blasted soldier...couldn't get to...my clothes...took my horse...I'm so cold...Danisha...darling..."

Why is he acting like this is some sort of traumatizing, deadly, horrifying event? Could he not just get new clothes while waiting for her?

This was not the Claude Frollo I was used to seeing. This man, shivering-cold, tears streaming down his face, his otherwise neat gray hair all windblown, allowed himself to show a little vulnerability, something he never displays in public. He told me of the late afternoon swim, how some soldier he had discharged earlier today had lifted his clothes and stolen Snowball, how he was chased through the streets by adoring FSMs. I embraced him again.

The fact that he’s crying over this is hilarious. Also, why is he so angry at being chased around by “FSMs?” Danisha refers to herself as one, so it’s obviously not something negative. I was under the impression they were mistresses or women in a harem of some sort. This is confusing.

"I had a feeling something like this would happen. It's all right, honey. I understand." He held me tightly and kissed me tenderly. "I had managed to escape with only this." He revealed a sterling silver pager, studded with amethysts. "I was desperate, Nisha. You were the only one I could turn to."

Or you could just get some new clothes.

I opened the back door, reached inside, handed him the pile of clothes, then waited as Claude sat in the backseat, dressing hurriedly. "We don't have much time", I said, "anyone could come along and..."

And burn you for having this fancy future technology known as a “car?”

"I am aware of that", he replied with a haughty edge to his voice. It was a good sign. He'd quickly regained his usual commanding demeanor.

It had been a grueling day, and Claude Frollo had put in long hours at the Palace of Justice. First there was that band of highwaymen who had terrorized Parisians traveling in and out of town. He had laid a careful trap for these hoodlums, successfully capturing and, ultimately, punished them for their crimes.

You can’t just switch verb tense like that. It should be either “capturing” and “punishing” or “captured” and “punished.”

Then there was that new, dimwitted lieutenant. He had infuriated Claude with some minor insubordination, so much that Claude made sure he was justly "disciplined". So what if this half-brained soldier complained, "I'll never be able to secure another position again! You made sure of that! I'll get even with you, Claude Frollo!"

The way “discipline” is in quotes makes me worry. And making someone forever unable to secure another job due to a minor insubordination is messed up- though, seeing as Frollo had a previous captain whipped and tried to shoot Phoebus off a bridge for refusing to murder someone, this guy probably got off easily. 

The Minister of Justice sneered at this inane threat. "And just WHAT will you do? It is obvious you can't even negotiate a walk across the street, let alone perform your duties! Yes, I guarantee you'll never find work in Paris again - now begone, you idiot!"

Again, this is sort of messed up.

Claude Frollo smiled. It had been a productive day, but oh-so tiring. He needed a release. Claude paced about his study, restless from boredom, yet drained from overwork. A thought suddenly came to him. That's it!, he thought. After all, it was a warm day, and a quick swim would be just the thing to relieve the stress. Claude Frollo's thoughts turned to Danisha, his 14th FSM.

Who the hell is Danisha? That’s not exactly a common name in medieval Paris. And what is an FSM? Do I want to know? And what timeframe does this take place in? If it’s before the movie, what happened to Danisha to leave Frollo free to obsess over Esmeralda? And if it’s during the movie, does he have two obsessions at once? I wouldn’t put it past him, but still… squick. And it can’t be after the movie because he’d be dead. 

She suggested I take up some pleasant past-time, he thought, my lovely wild-honeyed lady. Always so caring, so sweet, so..

Wild-honeyed lady? What does that even mean?

His mind raced back to that magical summer of luscious days and even sweeter nights spent with her. She had maddened him at first with her off-the-wall humor and saucy tongue. Yet, somehow, she had managed to melt his heart and stirred a desire in him so strong that he could not...

Wasn’t the entire plot driven by the fact that he’s a member of the clergy and cannot have sex or fall in love? Seeing as he wanted to either rape or murder Esmeralda her evil sin of being attractive, it just doesn’t seem like he’d have a healthy relationship with Danisha, whoever she is. 

"Stop this!", he muttered to himself. "Thinking about her only stresses you more."

But it good stress! A wicked smile lit up his face as he made his way outside. Mounting his horse, Snowball, he informed his sergeant that he was going for a short swim. "If an emergency should arise, you'll know where to find me." Claude did not notice the just-fired lieutenant lurking in the shadows of the Palace. As Claude rode off, the ex-soldier motioned to some boys playing nearby.

Yeah, there’s nothing that could go wrong with randomly bathing in a pond, telling people that dislike you that you’re doing so, and then leaving...

"Hey kids!", he called to them, "Want to earn a little money?" "Sure", said the oldest boy. "What do you want done?" The soldier grinned. "Let's play a game called "Getting Even with the Boss" The boys nudged each other and grinned back. "Where to?", asked the youngest. "Just follow me." And soon the entire group followed the tall man riding a fine black horse.

  Whatever this guy has in store for him, Frollo probably deserves it.

Claude Frollo reached a lovely, secluded spot just outside of town. The water looked so inviting and refreshing. Besides, there was no one around to spy on him or bother him with petty concerns. Here he could be by himself, enjoy a swim, and collect his thoughts. Claude tied Snowball to a tree, neatly folded his clothes and piled them on the riverbank, and took the plunge. Oh, this is heavenly, he thought, as he allowed the cool water to envelope and rejuvenate his body and mind. It was nearly sunset, he realized, must not stay too long... but this IS wonderful.

This is literally just tempting fate here.

Claude became so wrapped in his enjoyment that he did not notice a group of boys watching him through the bushes. He did not see those same boys quietly lift his clothes and untie his horse. Nor did he see the ex-soldier guiding Snowball down the road. Ah, nearly dusk, must get out now. I'm feeling sooo much better. Claude got out of the water and reached for his clothes. He suddenly panicked. Where are my clothes! Where's my Snowball! He looked up just in time to see that damned soldier and some boys hastily running down the road with his clothes and horse

  How did someone just walk off with his entire goddamn horse without him noticing? Also, I have a feeling that a judge/archdeacon (depending on the adaptation) just casually bathing in a random pond in the view of several people would raise a couple eyebrows. 

"Come back here you thieving vermin!" Claude roared at the top of his lungs. "You'll dearly pay for this insult!"

In their haste, the merry group dropped Claude's cape and something else. A sterling silver, amethyst-studded device. Claude picked up his cape and the small, silvery pager.

This story takes place in the 1400s, does it not? How on earth did this guy manage to get ahold of and use a pager?! And even if he did somehow manage to find one, he’d probably accuse whoever had it of witchcraft and burn/draw-and-quarter them. He doesn’t exactly have a great track record of accepting things he doesn’t understand. 

Wait until I get my hands on them! I'll tear them apart! Make them suffer the worst possible punishment I can... Claude Frollo was livid, as he wrapped the cape around himself, and, clutching the little pager, walked back to town.</p>

He’s fantasizing about torturing some young pranksters?! I get if he’s mad at them, but they’re kids! Jesus Christ!

Judge Claude Frollo slipped back into town unnoticed. Thank goodness no-one's spotted me, he shuddered, his body now shivering from dampness and the cool evening air. Have to make it back to the Palace of Justice and then I'll take care of those thieving ruffians... Just then, he heard a swell of female voices heading up the street. FSMs! How did they find me? That blasted soldier! Now he will clearly pay for embarassing me!

 What the hell is an FSM?! The context here makes me think he’s just referring to women as a whole, which is weird. 

But the horde of young females had already spotted his tall, slender form. "There he is!", shouted Aranxta, "Ooh, he is DIVINE!" 

 There’s nothing the ladies love more than naked old priests/judges who fantasize about torture, rape and murder. Also, what type of name is Aranxta? It makes me think this author is just inserting names of her friends here, because girls from medieval France generally aren’t called things like that. I’m no historian but I generally think of, like, Mary or Agnes when I think “middle ages.”

Their leader, a woman who called herself Belladonna, urged the ladies, "Get him, girls! Don't let him get away!" Claude dashed up a side street, trying frantically to get away. He felt a tug at his cape. It was one of the older FSMs.

You can’t just keep using that acronym without telling your audience what it means.

"MADAM!"

"Just trying to get a peek at that MANLY body!"

Because he’s just such a ladies’ man, as evidenced by Esmeralda choosing death over sleeping with him.

Frollo: Choose me or the fire.

Esmeralda: *spits in his face*

"Ladies, please!", Claude pleaded, "This is not a good time. I have important business to attend to...." Eventually he struggled out of the cape and disappeared down a dark alley, whilst the FSMs continued fighting over him.

And he wanted to burn Esme for witchcraft? I want to know which magic potion he’s using to make people think he's attractive.

Out of breath, cold, and angry, Claude hid in a recess of an abandoned building. He still clutched the tiny pager. 

How and why does he know how to use a pager?! Why does this exist

"Why didn't I think of this before? Yes! She will help me. My beautiful brown-sugared....Darling Nisha..."

His weird descriptions of this Nisha chick are kind of unnerving. Brown-sugared?

Claude took the pager and began pushing the buttons. He cast his eyes heavenward. "Oh PLEASE let this work", he prayed as he began coding a cryptic message.

Seeing as God literally made a gargoyle come to life to fall off the cathedral and “plunge you into the fiery pit,” I really doubt he’s on your side.

Notes on Back to the Frollo

What inspired FrolloFreak to write such an epic?

Yeah. Epic. This is on par with the Odyssey, right here.

Well... I was originally inspired by another Frollo story. The tale, The Secret History of Judge Claude Frollo, written by a "Claudine Frollo" (aka Belladonna, FSM #1),

So I’ve given up and looked up the acronym, and evidently FSM stands for Frollo’s Secret Mistress. So yes. He does have a harem. And all these women write stories in which they are a part of that harem.

provided the spark that resulted in the work you've just read. Thanks, Bella, for writing that piece. If it wasn't for you, BttF would have never seen print.

I hate you, Bella.

Oh yes, and thank Bella for suggesting the title: Back to the Frollo. At the time when I was busily running off the first couple of chapters, I hadn't come up with a fitting title! Thanks, B! So what was the original story about? I'd rather not go into details, but I had to slightly alter the situation where Claude ends up...well...then is pursued by adoring FSMs.

She’s too squeamish to say he had his clothes stolen?

BTTF was originally planned as a five-part story; however, when I finished the first six chapters, I was determined to let this 'short' tale evolve into a twenty-chapter epic.

Characters

1 The Soldier who pulled that rotten prank... 2 From the start, I wanted to do something with Phoebus, so the soldier would be Phoebus' cousin. However, by the end of Chapter 12, I decided to touch on my conspiracy theory. 3 Who'd thought that my theory, already incorporated in the remaining chapters – MY ALREADY OUTLINED AND ROUGH-DRAFTED CHAPTERS – would coincide with my sister FSMs conspiracy theories!

You’re all the same breed of crazy, so it isn’t that far-fetched.

4 The de Chateaupers cousins were modeled on some of my old classmates. Jules and Renee are named after kids I used to babysit. Malus? Well, he's based on a kid that used to live in the 'hood - a real bad seed – I think he's in jail(!). Hence the name, "Malus"...that name came from the only Latin teacher in my building. Sort of fits..."Malus" means "bad".

Basing characters after children you know is weird, sorry. Especially when those characters end up dead.

5 As stated before, Fern is based on a former co-worker. Judy [REDACTED} is one of the best English teachers I know. She's fat, funny, has that Hoosier twang, and is extremely brilliant and gifted.

I was the one that added the REDACTED; in the original story, the woman’s full name was there, and that’s a massive invasion of privacy to Judy, so I deleted it.

6 Jacki is based on two former students who are real whizzes at math and science. I named her after the principal of Arlington High School here in Indianapolis. Jackie [REDACTED], if you happen to read this, I want to thank you for being so supportive when the going got rough for me.

How much do I have to reiterate that releasing people’s full names and town to the Internet is weird and kind of disturbing? Also, your boss knows about your odd Frollo fetish fanfic?

7 Aunt Perle is based on my dad's 86-year old cousin. Bernice [REDACTED] knows everything that goes on in the family. She's so sweet! "Perle" was the name of one of my mom's friends, who passed away a few years ago. I still miss her. 8 Kyle, or Chi, is really Fern's/Judy's son! I don't know if he can dance or play the dobro – I just threw that in for effect. :-) 9 The Front Porch String Band? It's real, too! In reality, it's known as the Family Reunion String Band. They play every year at the Indiana State Fair, and I never miss a performance. These guys are AWESOME! If you're going to be in Indianapolis during the fair, stop by the Pioneer Farm and Home Exhibit – you'll be truly entertained.

I don’t care. Stop.

****** Oh, yes...those northside haunts that FrolloFreak and Claude visit...they're real! There really is a Broad Ripple Village (my high school, of the same name, is there), a Lilly Orchard, a Monon Rail-Trail (which is busy with walkers, runners, skaters, etc.), and, of course, North Meridian Street with all those fine, old mansions.

We know. I looked it up. Again, releasing people’s name and towns to an Internet full of strangers is not cool.

Finally, I'd like to thank Belladonna again for editing and posting those first few installments. And thanks for helping me out on the historical angle.

In the same way Raven “helped” Tara with spelling in My Immortal?

Uh...If you remember Chapters 8 & 9, you'll recall that FrolloFreak mentioned to Claude Frollo that she was from the New World. Bella corrected me on this -- 'America' hadn't been discovered yet! How could a social studies teacher let that one slip by?! :)

But you let the fact that he was not Spanish slip by…

So, for Chapters One thru Nine, I extend personal thanks to Bella for all her tireless assistance.

Ž****** I hope you had as much fun reading this epic as I had fun writing it. It was truly a labor of love.