Grantaire Fan Fiction...

So awhile ago, someone asked me to write a fan fiction about Grantaire's early years, why he's so cynical and stuff like that. It's not very long but I think it's a good probability of why Grantaire is so cynical! Hope you enjoy!

 

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Grantaire was in love. There was no other way of putting it. The young man had been hit by cupid's arrow and there was no going back. She was a baker's daughter, her name was Audra. He had met her one night while buying his meager supper. She had enchanted him. In his opinion, she looked like an angel. Long, blonde hair that reached all the way down to her hips; big, innocent-looking, blue eyes; thick, black lashes; and perfect pink lips. She was a shy girl of just sixteen. After seeing her for the first time, Grantaire came back every night to the little bakery. It didn't matter that the bread was horrible, all that mattered was that he would get to see the girl who had made him forget all the things he had told himself to believe. He had always told himself that love did not matter. After his father left his mother, he decided that there had to be more to life than being tied to one woman your entire life. Obviously that was what his father thought. So, as soon as he was old enough, he set off for Paris. He would meet women, enchant them for the night, and leave them in the morning. Yet there was something about that that made Grantaire feel empty. And when he saw Audra that cold, fall evening, he knew that he could stay with her his entire life.

One evening, he got up the nerve to talk to her. He had come into the shop and waited for her to come out of the kitchen. He was alone in the shop when she stepped out.

"Bonjour, Monsieur. How are you?" She asked shyly, wrapping up the bread.

"I am fine. How are you, Mademoiselle?"

"Very well."

"Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. I am Grantaire."

"I am Audra." She replied, blushing just the slightest.

"I know." He whispered, barely loud enough to hear. The girls blushed even more. They began to talk and realized that they very much enjoyed the company of the other person. Grantaire soon realized it was getting rather late and that he must go.

"Mademoiselle, are you ever allowed to go out during the day? Perhaps for a small meal at a cafe?" He inquired.

"On occasions." She replied.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for lunch someday soon?" Grantaire asked.

"Possibly, Monsieur. It depends on when you would like to go." She responded.

"Tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

"That would be brilliant!" She agreed. Grantaire's face burst into a large smile. Audra's shy smile lit up her face.

"Where would you like to meet?" He asked, exuberantly.

"There is a café down the street, would you like to meet there?" She inquired.

"That would be perfect, Mademoiselle. Shall we meet around 1 o'clock?" He asked.

"That would work, Monsieur." She said.

"Then, I bid you Au Revoir, Mademoiselle." He said, stepping out of the shop, looking back to see Audra staring at him as he walked into the night.

****

Weeks passed. Audra and Grantaire had slowly fallen in love over those days. They met at the café at least once a week, usually more than that, though. Her father was not too thrilled about the budding romance between the poor man and his own poor daughter. He wanted to marry off young Audra to someone rich and powerful. Not some waif who couldn't provide for his daughter.

Grantaire was walking Audra home one night when he realized that he had never been happier than he was at that moment.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked in her soft voice, clasping his hand in hers.

"About how happy I am right now. About how.....about how I am in love with you." Grantaire replied. Audra turned to face him.

"Do you honestly mean that?" She inquired, almost holding her breath as she awaited an answer.

"Yes. I honestly mean that. I am in love with you, Audra!" He responded, smiling slightly. She looked at him in shock. It had been the first time those words had been uttered to her. Not even her parents had told her that. She had never been told she was beautiful, that she was loved, that someone cared about her. Her parents viewed her as another mouth to feed. Her siblings resented her for being 'pretty'. And yet, this young man she barely knew told her all of these things. Then he leaned in and kissed her gently. And in that fridgid November night, Grantaire had found something to believe in.

****

Days later, a knock was heard on Grantaire's door. It was late at night and Grantaire was confused. Who could be calling on him at this hour? He answered and there stood Audra, her eyes red and her cheeks tear-stained. His heart broke just looking at her. Her took her hand and silently lead her into his apartment. He guided her to a chair which she collapsed in. He sat on the floor next to the chair, stroking her hand gently as her sobs quieted.

"He's...going...to.....marry.....me....off....to...some...rich....politician...!" She managed to choke out in between tears.

"Oh, dearest." Grantaire said, not sure of what to say.

"I...didn't....even....think....that...a....politician....would....want...to...marry....a....poor....baker's...daughter." She explained.

"Why does he want to?" Grantaire asked, how though, he would never know. His head was spinning, the words felt slurred. "He...thinks....it...would....be....good....for....his...image! He....thinks....it...would...show...he...had...sympathy....for...the...poor." She hiccuped, the tears finally subduing.

"You don't need to marry him. You can stay here and marry me. I am not promising that I can alway provide a meal or a roof for you, but I can promise that I will always love you." Grantaire whispered. She kissed his cheek gently.

"May I stay here tonight. I will go home in the morning and inform my father that there is no need to arrange the marriage for I shall be gone. I'll be with you." She smiled. He stood up and then sat in the chair beside Audra. She curled up into his arms and as he started stroking her long, glossy hair, she fell asleep. Grantaire breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried that he would loose her.

*****

Audra entered her father's shop. He was behind the counter, not facing the door.

"Father." She said loudly. She felt surprised of herself, sounding so commanding, not small and timid.

"There you are!" He screamed at her.

"I am here to inform you that I refuse to marry that man. I shall go and live with my Grantaire. And I shall never bother you with my presence again." She replied.

"Ha! You think you'll survive with that man? He don't have a job, he'll be bored with you after awhile, and he won't feed you. You will starve to death on the streets. On your own. He won't stay with you." He father lashed.

"That is not true. Grantaire is different than you or your friends. He loves me!" She yelled.

"Ha! He thinks he's in love with you. Really, he's just indulging his fancies. Soon, there will be someone else he 'loves'" The man sneered

"But I won't be loved if I marry that politician!" She cried.

"No, but you'll never miss a meal, you can raise your children without fear having to turn them out because you cannot afford to keep them. You will never have to worry about where you will sleep. You will always have a bed and a roof. It is up to you, m'dear. But you must made your decision by tonight. I must close the deal with Monsier Duboisse by tomorrow morning. There are many young girls here in the slums who would kill to marry him." He father chuckled darkly. Audra left the shop and made her way to Grantaire's apartment, wondering what she would choose.

*****

Audra burst into Grantaire's apartment. He smiled.

"Hello, my love. How did that go? Is it nice to never have to deal with him again?"

"Grantaire, I need to talk to you." She sighed, looking into his deep brown eyes. Grantaire suddenly felt concerned.

"Listen, I love you Grantaire. And I honestly think you love me as well. But, love, you cannot provide for me. You cannot guarantee that you can feed me, that you can give me a warm house to sleep in. Monsieur Duboisse can insure this. And though I shall never love him, I will have a better life. Please forgive me, my love, but I cannot spend my life wondering if you've found someone new, if your love has moved on to someone else. I shall never stop loving you, but I will learn to live without it. Dearest Grantaire, try to understand." Audra said, gently placing her hand on his face. He pulled away.

"Grantaire.....I am sorry. I wish you would have never come into the shop. I wish I would never feel this pain I feel now." She said, tears falling down her face. She stood to go.

"Don't go...." He said, looking up into her eyes. She saw the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Goodbye, Grantaire." She whispered and left. Grantaire ran down the stairs after her, but she soon melted into the crowed and he couldn't see her any longer. He went back into his apartment and flopped into the chair in which he had slept with Audra in his arms just the night before. Hours after Audra had left him, Grantaire took a few sous from his pocket and headed to the nearest pub. He entered, laid the coins on the counter, and said, "Give me your best brandy."

*****

A month later, Grantaire stumbled through the cold, wintery streets of Paris in search of a new bottle. He saw a warm light coming from a café, The Café Mussain, and he leached in a drunken stupor in the door. Inside a blonde, young man was shouting out words of revolution. Grantaire watched in silence as the man preached his message. After the man concluded the speech, he went to greet guests who had come to listen to him. He came up to Grantaire.

"Hello. I am Enjoras. I am part of a group, Les Amis de l'ABC, where we believe that all citizens should be equal. Will you join our cause?" The man said, sounding rather rehearsed. Grantaire laughed.

"I don't believe in anything." He slurred. The man turned to him, and said, sounding more sincere, not rehearsed:

"Then we will make a believer out of you."                                   

 

Hope you enjoyed!

Over and Out!

Sydney                                                                                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's official...I'm obsessed..

It's official, I'm obsessed with Les Miserables....I had a feel I was before but today I confirmed my suspicions. I was at the bookstore today, I had $30 dollars burning a hole in my pocket. And then I see three copies (All of them had different covers) and I wanted to buy *another* copy so badly! It took every bit of willpower not to buy one (or all) of them. I already have one paperback copy and one kindle version. Still, I wanted to buy those books! So know I know, I'm obsessed with Les Miserables and guess what? I am OK with that. In fact, I'm extatic over the fact that I'm obsessed. It's such a great book/musical/movie. I had this kid in school the other day say to me, "Why are you so obsessed with that movie?" And I replied, "Oh, it's much more than just a movie....." He just kinda shook his head.
I love being involved in this fandom!!!
I can't wait for Monday! Deluxe Soundtrack!!! YAY!

Okay, random question for my readers:
What is your favorite translation of The Brick?


Over and Out!
Sydney

~Beyond the Barricade~ Part 5

The title says it all.....
Not a very long part but I promise there will be more excitement (And we definitly will go to a Barricade Boy's family in the next one...Just trying to set the mood for what's to come)!

 

 

 

 

 

                ~Beyond the Barricade~ Part 5

The night was falling quickly and Chandler and Angeline didn't know where to go. They were too far away to stay with Maria and they didn't feel like they could go and ask Madame Fortscue for a room for the night. They wandered aimlessly around the streets, glancing at each other every few minutes. Chandler couldn't help but think her very pretty. No, pretty was too small of a word for her. She was gorgeous, iridescent, and stunning. She had lustrous russet hair, swept up in a bun, though a few hairs had escaped in the past day. Her eyes were beautiful, like pools of water. He couldn't help but be in awe of her.

"Today was a successful day." Chandler offered, trying to start a conversation.

"Yes, but I don't think it will always be like this." Angeline countered.

"I know, but it was still a productive day..." Chandler replied. Angeline smiled slightly.

"It was, wasn't it?" Angeline said. Chandler grinned. There was something about his smile that was contagious. Her smile grew bigger and bigger until she was sure her face would burst. Their hands touched. They both held their breath, wondering if the other would pull away. Neither one did. Chandler blushed and looked away. It was funny, Angeline thought, that this morning he didn't even want to come along with her and yet here they were, their hands touching. Just the back of their hands, scarcely touching. Yet it made her heart flutter just the same.

"What do you would you do, Mademoiselle, if you could have whatever occupation you wanted?" Chandler asked. It was a random question, yet Angeline felt touched that he would ask her such a question.

"Well, I guess I haven't really thought of that. I just assumed I would live with my parents until they found me a suitable husband and then I would live with him. Hmm, I guess I would be a writer. I would write novels for young people, like myself. Not silly trivial novels with no meaning but serious books about serious matters that came with good morals." Angeline replied. Chandler's eye lit up.

"I've always wanted to be a writer too. A playwright." He said enthusiastically. Angeline looked surprised.

"You don't look like the type. But, still, that is amazing. Have you written anything recently?" She asked.

"No, I haven't had the time. I mostly write about real life, not trivial things that most plays cover. Mostly about poor people in Paris. Nothing great, but I enjoy writing it. So I guess that's all that matters." He said, kicking a stone. Why was she making him bashful? He had never acted like that before. The sun was slowly setting, leaving the evening cold. Angeline shivered, realizing that in her rush to leave before her parents returned, that she had forgotten a coat. Chandler noticed her trembling and the way her eyes drooped with fatigue. He looked around the area of the great city they were at. It was better part of town. Not many dismal houses that was linked with poverty. He steered her to a nearby bench, taking his coat out of his small satchel and draped it over her shoulders.

"Oh, Chandler, you do not need to give me that." She said, as she tried to slip the coat off. His hand touched her shoulder gently as if the stop the coat from coming off. He sat down on the bench and she followed, slipping the coat onto her shoulders. His hand slipped into hers. She smiled at this motion, not resisting. They sat in perfect silence until they both fell into a gentle slumber.

                                        ********

Cosette and Marius paced the room, wringing their hands. It had now been two nights since Angeline had gone missing. They had contacted the authorities but they hadn't been given any information. The police had better things to do than track down a rebellious socialite. Cosette let a little sigh out, the tears that hadn't stopped since the night before came faster now. Marius went to comfort his wife. He held her as she sobbed into his arms. She pulled out of his arms and looked up at him. He was forty-two, graying slightly in places in his hair. Still, he looked the same as he had when they had first met in her garden. She hadn't changed much either, still youthful in her appearance, even at thirty-eight. Still, time had touched her, leaving several creases around her face.

"She will come back, tu." He said gently, stroking her hair.

"Where is she sleeping? Where is she at? The thoughts are practically driving me insane!" She cried.

"It will be fine. We shall find her soon."

                                        ****

Angeline awoke early in the morning. Her head was rested on Chandler's shoulder, his head laid gently on top of hers. Her hand was still firmly clasped in his. She smiled. She didn't want to pull her head away from this comfortable position. But, almost as if he knew she was awake, Chandler roused. He smiled at her, moving his head. Their hands were still clasped, neither of them attempting to release the other. Neither one of them spoke, worried that they would break the spell that surrounded them. It was if they were the only two people alive. Much to Angeline's surprise, Chandler moved toward her and kissed her gently. Just one, tiny kiss, yet it meant the world to Angeline. He pulled away as quickly as he had gone in. He smiled and asked,

"Now, who should we track down today?"       

Hope you enjoyed!
Over and Out!
Sydney

Combeferre Fan Fiction-- Part One....

So I was going to put this entire thing on my blog when I had finished it, but I was so eager to share with you guys {And so not anywhere close to being done with it}, I've decided to put it into parts! So without further ado:
Part one of my Combeferre fan-fiction!

 

 

~Part One~

 



"Revolution is upon us, no matter how hard you try to brush it off!" Combeferre shouted. He was speaking in a Cafe, trying to bring others to the cause. Cheers arose. Combeferre was surprised by the reaction. Usually he was met with subdued sighs, like they had all heard it before. This was refreshing. It made him feel as if his words mattered. Unfortunately, this was all Combeferre had planned. The crowd waited for more words from the determined young man. He was used to being cut short by people who had no interest in what he said. He blushed, searching his head for more words to say. He couldn't think of one thing to add.

"So...err...Come to our meeting tonight! Our brilliant leader, Enjolras, will tell you even more about our cause! We meet at the Cafe Mussian. I hope to see each and every one of you there!" Combeferre said with enthusiasm. He knew enough of public speaking to know that you should sound enthusiastic when you had nothing else to say. The applause took off, leaving Combeferre temporarily deaf. He couldn't help but smile. It was an amazing feeling knowing that he had inspired people to think about the way the people were being treated. He stepped down from the table he had been standing on, shaking hands. Suddenly he saw a young woman leaving the cafe. He knew exactly who it was. He walked past the throng until he made it to the door.

"Eponine!" He called. The girl kept walking. He sprinted toward the girl and reached out and touched her shoulder. The girl turned and slapped him. Combeferre stepped back in the shock from the blow. The girl was not Eponine. She looked much younger, no more than thirteen. She had the same matted dark brown hair as Eponine. And the same warm eyes, which now looked as if they were going to burn Combeferre if he looked into them.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle. I thought you were someone else." Combeferre said.

"Obviously." The girl seethed.

"You reminded me of my friend Eponine." Combeferre explained.

"I had guessed that. You called 'Eponine' before you accosted me!" She fumed.

"I did not accost you! I simply touched your shoulder!" Combeferre corrected.

"Well, whatever you did, I'm not Eponine. I know her though. We're sisters."

"Eponine never said anything about having a sister." Combeferre said suspiciously.

"She wouldn't. She has her friends. Her friends who would protect her during any danger. She's forgotten all about her little sister. The one who she used to play with. She's forgotten all about Azelma by now." The girl, Azelma, sighed. Combeferre noticed a tear in her eye.

"I assume you're one of the friends who care so much for darling 'Ponine." Azelma said, this time with the fieriness she had possessed when they had first talked.

"I really don't know her that well. She mainly keeps to herself, talking only to Marius Pontmercy. I just thought I would tell her hello if she had come into the cafe. Why were you here?" Combeferre asked.

"Oh, because I wanted to hear about the cause that is 'Going to change France for our children'. I wanted to know about the 'Revolution that is coming, no matter how hard we try to brush it off'." She said, quoting his speech. Combeferre blushed slightly.

"You look quite young to be going off by yourself. You look no more than thirteen." Combeferre observed.

"I am sixteen! I will be seventeen in three months." She said through clenched teeth. Combeferre registered that she had been asked this question many times before.

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle. So, Eponine lives all over. Where do you live?" Combeferre asked. These were the people he and the others were campaigning for. He wanted to know every little detail to her life.

"I live with my mother and father. I'm the only one of my siblings left. Gavroche and Eponine live on the streets and my other two brothers live with a woman somewhere in Paris." Azelma explained, kicking a pebble with her worn boot.

"You say you don't have friends like 'Ponine's friends. What are your friends like?" Combeferre inquired.

"Don't have any friends, really. Just my dad's band of thugs and they'd be happy to jump on me if they were given the chance." Azelma said, her chin thrust in the air, looking defiant, as if daring Combeferre to feel sorry for her.

"And what stops them from doing so?" Combeferre asked. His stomach was slowly dropping. This was the life Eponine had escaped from. This was the life he hoped to rescue all of the surfs of France from.

"My father. But only when I've done something for him, like get him information about a house that is empty for a few months and he  can steal from it. I'm always trying to get him new information. But, if I didn't do this, nothing would stop them. My parents would stand by and watch as their 'friends' pounced. Thankfully, I've never had to endure this." Azelma said. He could now see inside of the mind of this young girl, who was scared beyond her wits. They reached an intersection. It was obvious that they were headed in different directions.

"Au Revoir, Mademoiselle Azelma." He said, reaching for her hand. She hesitated then placed it in his own. He raised her soot-stained knuckle to his lips, the way a nobleman would when he parted ways with  a grand lady. Azelma's eyes grew wide.

"Au Revoir, Mousier...?" She said, realizing she didn't know his name.

"Combeferre. My name is Combeferre." He said.

"Combeferre." She whispered, and with that, removed her hand from his and disappeared down the street, merging with all the others who were standing around there. Combeferre had never met anyone who charmed him the way Azelma had charmed him.

                                  *******

Combeferre knew that his gesture had made the girl's day. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to  do that, kiss her hands. He just felt as if she needed to be treated as an Grand Lady, even if for just a few seconds. He turned into the Cafe Mussian's door. Enjolras was sitting on a bench, barking orders to find more guns.

       "Have you recruited more men? Or was it the same thing as last time?" Enjolras asked, looking up at Combeferre. Combeferre was Enjolras' second-in-command.

"No, actually they responded this time! My speech resulted in deafening cheers! Is this how it feels, Enjolras, to bring people to our cause? Because if so, I'd like to do it every day!" Combeferre replied. Enjolras grinned.

"It's a feeling like none other, my friend." Enjolras replied. Soon, Marius and Eponine entered the Cafe. Combeferre rushed toward the disheveled woman.

"You never told me you had a sister, Eponine." Combeferre said, with more accusation than he intended. Eponine got strangely pale.

       "You met Azelma? When? Where? Is she alright?" She asked all at once, barely breathing.

"Yes I met Azelma today. At a cafe. She looked fine, just bitter." Combeferre said, softening a bit.

"I haven't seen her in ages. I've tried to rescue her from our parents many, many times. She refuses. I think she feels loyal to our parents." Eponine said, a rare tear going down her cheek.

"She seems to think you've abandoned her." Combeferre explained, gently.

"That is not true, Combeferre. She is stubborn. If you see her again, please tell her 'Ponine wants her to come and live with her." Eponine said, wiping the tears gently from her eyes.

"I shall, Mademoiselle." Combeferre smiled.

                                  *****

The meeting was over. Many men came to the meeting, a majority of them the men who listened to Combeferre talk that afternoon. Enjolras never seemed to run out of words to say on the subject. Combeferre seemed a mediocre speaker compared to the blonde man who was so passionate about his country. Combeferre was now walking home, alone. He lived in an apartment above a wine shop in the south side of Paris. He was meandering slowly, taking in the sights of Paris that one might miss if they were walking briskly. Suddenly, he heard a moan and a cry coming from an alleyway. He couldn't help but run down the dark passage. There was a group of men surrounding something. A older, sleazy looking man stood by.

       "Do what you'd like. I don't care. She is nothing." The man spat.

"Please, Father...." A young, familiar sounding girl whimpered. "I didn't know they were back in town. I thought they'd be gone for quite awhile."

"Don't give me that. You wanted us to be caught, you know it." The man lashed. "Do whatever pleases you, she ain't my daughter anymore." A sickening laughter filled the air. The men lurched towards her. But suddenly a spry, young schoolboy made a barrier between the men and the girl, who he now realized was Azelma. The men laughed at this small gentleman.

"Leave her alone." He said with a commanding tone.

"Eh, who cares. She's nothing much. She's not even pretty. Come on, boys, let's go find some lovely ladies to hang around with. The men cleared. He was just a student, not worth a fight and she was not a girl worth fighting for.

"Know this: You are no longer welcome at my home. You are a disgrace. As much of a disgrace as Eponine." The man hissed in an ominous tone. He then left, almost vanishing in the night. Combeferre turned to the girl who was crying, crouched in the corner. He came closer but she seemed to shy away.

"Don't worry, Mademoiselle, it is just me..." Combeferre whispered.

"Mousier Combeferre?" She asked as she recognized him. She was confused. "How did you find me here?"

"I was passing by as I was heading home when I heard your screams. Are you hurt?"

"My leg. They tripped me then stepped on it. I think it might be broken, Mousier." Azelma said, cringing as he gently touched it.

"My friend, Joly, is a doctor. I'll have him examine it in the morning." Combeferre said.

"Morning? Where will I go tonight?" She cried, more tears forming in her large eyes. Combeferre realized now she didn't look thirteen. She looked older, as if she had seen all the world's cruelties.

"You may stay at my house for as long as you need." He said. taking her hand in his. Her eyes grew wide at the idea.

"Are you sure, Mousier? I can go elsewhere. I'm sure someone would take me in."

"I won't hear of it. You will stay with me." Combeferre said firmly. He then lifted Azelma up and carried her out of the alley. Her arms almost automatically went around his neck, as if she had a reflex telling her to put them there. She blushed but did not remove her limbs. Combeferre was secretly glad.

It pained him to feel how light she was. It was like carrying a feather. He made a mental note to buy her some bread, cheese, and meat. That was what she needed the most. They soon arrived at his residence. He opened the door, revealing a small, shabby room that featured a bed and scarce furnishings. Combeferre laid her on the bed.

"You can sleep there, Mademoiselle." He offered. She opened her mouth to protest but then soon shut it. She would be able to sleep in a feather bed for the first time. She watched as Combeferre made a small mat on the floor out of a blanket and a pillow.

"Is that where you are planning to sleep?" She asked.

"Yes." He replied.

"I feel bad putting you out of a bed, Mousier." She said.

"Don't feel bad. I've slept in much worse." Combeferre smiled. She smiled back, physically and emotionally drained from the events of the day. She slipped between the meager blankets and fell asleep immediately. Combeferre listened the sighs of her slumber, smiling slightly. He curled up into a ball on the floor of his own house and felt thankful to have a floor to call his own. It was a strange feeling, being thankful for a floor but after seeing what Azelma had come from, he had a feeling that she would be thankful for a floor too. For whatever reason, sleep did not come easily to Combeferre, despite the fact he felt exhausted. He could only think of Azelma and the life she had escaped from. And then he started thinking of the life he'd like to give her.

Hope you enjoyed!
Over and Out!
Syd

What I'm Up To....

Hey you guys!
Just thought I'd tell you guys what I'm planning for the next couple days of posts. (Though to finish two of these, I should probably log out of Blogger and Pinterest:P)

I'm working on a fan fiction for Combeferre! It's going pretty well, I've got about 7 pages of it so far and not even close to being done! I'm not planning on it being as sad as my Jehan one but you know, that one wasn't supposed to be that sad either. We'll just have to see what happens!

When I take breaks from the Combeferre story, I'll be writing more of this one...I've been so blessed to have so many people reading this, I am so honored!

My {very worn} copy of Les Mis with flags in it so I can find the {very few} references of Combeferre with ease......

 

And here is my writing playlist...Four of my favorite musicals (I've got like 1,000 favorite musicals, Les Miserables is #1 though just slightly above Phantom)!

 

I've also got an interview that will be up a few days after the movie comes out on DVD....That's all I can say for right now;)

Over and Out!

Sydney

 

~Beyond the Barricade~ Part 4....

There is nothing else to say!

        ~Beyond the Barricade~ Part 4

Angeline awoke the next morning to sounds of bickering. She had forgotten where she was. She looked around, confused. She then remembered where she was at. The squabbling was growing louder and louder.

        "Mother! I refuse to show some stuck-up, spoiled rich girl around Paris so that she can find about her father's friends!" A young man's voice was yelling.

        "They were your father's friends too...." Maria said quietly, just loud enough for Angeline hear.

"I don't want to do it."

"It's not as if you have anything to do. You've been let go from your third job this year. Go out, go explore Paris. Have some fun!" His mother said.

"Well, why should I?"

"Her father has been helping us along since your birth."

"Fine. But I won't pretend I want to do this." The young man said firmly. Angeline felt like this was the perfect time to enter the small room where Maria and her son were sitting.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle! How did you sleep?" Maria asked with a smile.

        "Very well, Madame." Angeline lied. Her back ached from sleeping on the floor. Still, it was better than outside.

"This is my son, Chandler. " Maria said, motioning to the very handsome young man sulking in the corner."

"It's nice to meet you, Mousier." Angeline said, shyly. He was more handsome than she could have ever imagined. He had dark, curly brown hair and bright green eyes. They seemed to stare into her soul. But a disdainful look played on his face, his lip turned up into a sneer. Angeline blushed.

"It is nice to meet you, Mademoiselle." He said, as if it wasn't nice to meet her at all.

"Please, call me Angeline."

Chandler glared at her. Angeline looked down at her feet, embarrassed. Was he going to be like this the entire time she was tracking down the families?

"Would you like something to eat? We don't have much but what we have, we have to share." Maria asked.

"Oh, yes please, Madame!" Angeline said enthusiastically. She was practically starving and she wanted to save her bread for later on, when she didn't have such nice hospitality given to her.

Maria laid out some bread and a bit of meat, but not much. Angeline wanted to devour it all but she took very little. Chandler looked at her condescendingly. She felt very self-conscious around him.

"So, do you know who's family are you going to look for next?" Maria asked, trying to relieve the tension in the room.

"I was thinking about Enjolras Fortscue. His name was toward the top of my father's list." Angeline replied after swallowing the last of her breakfast. She desired more but she refused to let herself ask for more food.

"Enjolras was the leader of the Les Amis. I never knew him personally but Courfeyrac talked very highly of him...." Maria explained. Chandler gave snort.

"Because if Courfeyrac talked highly of him, he had to be a stand-up man." Chandler spat.

"That's enough, Chandler!" Maria practically screamed. She quickly composed herself. "Well, you ought to be on your way. Remember, you can stay here if your close by."

"Thank you so much for your generosity, Madame Molyneux. I hope to see you again soon." Angeline said with a smile.

"And you as well, Mademoiselle! You are always welcome here! Chandler, have a good journey. I'll miss you, dear." Maria said, patting her son on the shoulder. Chandler rolled his eyes.

"Do you have money, Angeline?"

"Yes, I took Fifty Francs from home."

"A lot of good that's going to do!" Chandler lashed out. Angeline felt strangely hurt by this.

"Stop it, Chandler! That shall be enough if you spend it wisely." Maria hissed. The two young people walked out into the morning air.

"Good-bye!" Maria called, waving.

"Let us get something clear: I don't want to do this. My mother thinks it would be good for me to go out and learn more about my father's friends. I honestly don't care about them. Or him for that matter. He didn't love my mother. He left her pregnant. I bet he would've left her if he had ever known. I guess it's a good thing he died." Chandler explained, angrily.

"Fine. And if it would make you pleased, we do not even have to speak." Angeline said, her eyes staring straight ahead. She didn't like the way that he talked to her. Like she was a stupid child. They went and found a list of everyone with the last name Fortscue in Paris. Surprisingly, there wasn't many. Only ten. It had been easier when she had a first name to search for.

                                                ******

Chandler hadn't meant to be so cruel. It just sort of happened. He was sick and tired of meddling rich people. Yet, he couldn't get her hurt blue eyes out of his head. They had looked pained by the way he treated her. He opened his mouth to say something but the way she looked straight in front of her, determined, he shut his mouth. He could feel the frustration growing within her. They had gone to four houses and none of them had had a son named Enjolras.

"Are you just ready to give up?" She asked him sarcastically.

"No. Look, I'm sorry if I've been acting horrible toward you..." Chandler began, watching how a disbelieving smile popped onto her face.

"Are you seriously apologizing? I didn't know that you were capable of such things!" Angeline laughed in a sarcastic tone.

"Now, wait. Stop there. I don't try to act like that. My life isn't perfect. I've had to work since the moment I was able to. But I don't expect a spoiled little rich girl to understand!" He was practically livid at this point.

"Oh, is that what I am? A spoiled little rich girl? Yes, my parents are Baron and Baroness but we are far from rich. We only live in the house we occupy because my father's grandfather left it for him. We use only the money that we need and we donate and save the rest. Most girls my age get a new wardrobe twice a year while I've had this one for two years now. And I don't mind! I'd rather wear rags than spend thousands on dresses while people starve. That's how I was raised." She yelled at him. People shot her strange looks but moved on. Chandler hadn't ever been so angry at a person in his entire life. He also hadn't wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Angeline at that second. There was something about the way she argued with him that drove him mad. She had a fiery personality. He liked it and yet he hated it. He honestly didn't know how to reply to her rant. So he looked at the list they had copied down and said, "Come on, we've still got a few miles to walk before we reach the next house."  

Angeline huffed and walked on.

                                                *****

Angeline had surprised herself by the way she had talked to him. She had never talked like that to anyone before. And she liked the way her opinions rolled off her tongue, like fire. Maybe she hadn't ever been able to find her own personality at home, with only her parents as company. She hadn't had many friends growing up and hardly any now. She felt happy when she could express herself in a way that suited her. They were coming upon a large manor. She glanced at Chandler. He was already staring at her. They both seemed to blush and then Angeline asked,

"Do you think this will be the correct house?"

"Who knows?" Chandler replied, not able to look her in the eyes. He was embarrassed, Angeline thought.

They made it to the front door and Chandler knocked. A maid answered the door.

"Hello. May I help you?" She asked, curtly.

"We're looking for a Mousier or Madame Fortscue. We want to ask about their son, Enjolras." Angeline said, not wavering in her speech. She had the speech memorized  after reciting it four times. Instead of saying that the masters of the house had no son by that name, the maid went pale.

"One moment, Mademoiselle." She said, leading them into the entry way of the beautiful house. Both Chandler and Angeline looked around in wonder. Neither of them had ever seen such beautiful furnishings in a house. Soon an elderly woman, about 65 or 66 years of age, came down the stairs.

"Who are you?" She asked tersely.

"I am Angeline Molyneux and this is my brother, Chandler." Angeline said suddenly. Chandler gave her a bewildered glance showing he was confused. Angeline had suddenly came to the conclusion that if her father knew Maria, that maybe he knew the Fortscue family.

"And how do you know about my son?" The old woman asked.

"Our father died on the barricade." Angeline said, realizing that that could never be so. Angeline looked much too young to have been born in 1833. She hoped the woman would not look to closely at her face.

"Oh and why do you care about my son?"

"Because we don't know much about our father's friends and we'd like to know more about them." Chandler said, going along with the act.

"Oh. And so you found us. Well, what would you like to know?" The old woman asked, softening slightly.

"What was Enjolras like?" Angeline asked.

"Oh, well, he was a very headstrong boy. He was always rebelling against something that he felt was unjust. Yet he was such a generous boy. We would give him an allowance and he would go and give it to a poor family we would pass on the street. I have a portrait of him. Give me a moment." The woman said, standing up and leaving the room.

"You do know it's impossible for you to be my father's daughter since you were probably born in 1839." Chandler said, with a smile. It was a beautiful smile that made Angeline's heart thump. She couldn't help but smile back. Soon the woman was back with a large portrait in her arms. It depicted a young, blonde man with deep eyes. He was sitting in a chair, he leaned on his arm, as if in deep thought.

"This portrait was made around his eighteenth birthday, finished a few days before he left to liberate Paris. Liberate France. He came by periodically, talking of revolution. But, during his last visit, he talked about a young girl. Someone who he felt compelled to fight for. She didn't know that he felt feelings for her. She was supposedly in love with another man. Her name was....Oh, it's been 23 years, I cannot recall her name. I just know he spoke of her eyes. Brown eyes with gold laced into them."

Angeline marveled over the beautiful man who seemed as if his heart beat for France.

"Other than that girl, Enjolras never talked about anyone else. He said he was in love with Patria, in love with the motherland." She said, as a tear slipped down her cheek. He had been her darling son, her only son.

"Do you know how he died, Madame?" Angeline asked gently.

"No one who was there survived except for the men who shot him. If he was shot. I remember that night of June 6th, I woke up with a start. I knew something was wrong and I knew it involved my Enjolras. It pains me to not know how he died. His body was never recovered."

"Well, thank you so much for sharing those memories with us. We appreciate it deeply." Chandler said. To Angeline's surprise, he seemed sympathetic.

"It has been years since I've shared those with anyone. I was just thinking today that I wished I had someone to talk about Enjolras with. My husband has been dead for ten years now and so I have no one to talk about my son with. You children were honestly sent here by God!" The woman said. The woman stood as the pair raised to leave. She hugged both of them, to their surprise. They walked out, feeling quite sad yet happy at the same time. They had made an old woman happy and it made them feel good. Like they had done something special.       

We'll be visiting either the Thenardiers or Jehan's family...It all depends!
Over and Out!
Sydney

Jehan fanfiction....

 

This is one of my favorite barricade boys so I had to write a fanfic about him. I must warn you, it is really heartbreaking. I basically crying at my computer while I was writing. I hope you enjoy. Yes, I know some of my things don't add up but this is my first Les Mis fan fiction I've written that takes place during the events of the book/musical/movie, not after. So please forgive my mess-ups and Enjoy!

 

 

~Jehan Fan Fiction~

 



Jehan Prouvaire walked down the dark streets of Paris. He was holding a bundle of flowers and a single slip of paper was in his hand. He was on his way to see his beloved Alix. The words from the meeting he had just emerged from were still in his head. Jehan was a part of the Les Amis de l'ABC or the Friends of the ABC. They were planning on overthrowing the unjust governmental system of France. They were just waiting on a sign. He had slipped out of the Cafe Mussian as soon as he possibly could. Tonight he hadn't been asked where he was going. Usually at least one of his friend's spotted him slipping out and asked where he was going. He would blush and say to visit a friend. But his friends had guessed it was a certain girl. Jehan did not feel as though he could tell them about the woman he was in love with. He had heard them tease his friend, Marius, over the fact that he was in love with a girl named Cosette. Jehan had never understood exactly why the treated Marius like that, because he knew very well that all of the men, except Enjolras, had someone special. Still, he had seen the distaining looks Enjolras threw at Marius, telling him that he 'doesn't care about your lonely soul'. Jehan didn't want that to happen to him so he kept his dearest to himself. But he was so in love with her that someday he felt he would practically burst if he didn't tell someone about his love. That was how he became such good friends with the young girl who hung around the Cafe some days. The girl, Eponine, listened to every word Jehan said. She was a good listener. She promised to never tell anyone about Alix and in turn, told him a secret. She was in love with Marius. Jehan watched some days, as Marius talked about Cosette, he would watch his newfound friend's eyes fall and lose their happiness as her heart was slowly breaking. Jehan, being the poet he was, wrote several poems about the melancholy girl in love with a man who saw her as a friend, nothing more.  The streets of Paris were growing darker by the second. Soon the people who inhabited the "Underworld" of Paris would be out, doing their biddings. Jehan walked briskly down the pavement. He couldn't wait to see the look on Alix's face when she saw him with the bouquet of her favorite flowers. He sighed a happy sigh, thinking about Alix. They were planning to marry as soon as Jehan could secure enough money for a suitable home. Though, after the latest meeting of the ABC society, Jehan was worried. The way things were being planned, it would be a slim chance if any of them survived the Barricade. Jehan honestly didn't want to think what would happen. Jehan finally came across a small little cottage, light blazing through the window. It was obvious the owners were not rich, but that they made do with what they had. He crept upon the window, laying the flowers gently on the ground, gazed inside. A beautiful young girl was sitting inside beside her Father, reading from a book. The girl had glossy black hair, curled just slightly at the bottom. She had a simple dress on but to Jehan, it was more beautiful than any gown belonging to any grand lady. The man looked up and saw Jehan spying through the window. He smiled and beckoned Jehan to come inside. Jehan opened the door of the chalet. The house smelled of a dinner that had just been finished. It smelled of home. The girl looked up and her large brown eyes grew wide. She practically jumped off her chair and bounded towards him, virtually throwing herself in his arms.

            "Jehan! I was just talking about you! I wasn't sure if you were coming tonight! We've already eaten but I'm sure I can find something for you!" Alix said, pulling herself out of his arms and started toward the kitchen alcove.

            "Alix, I don't need anything! Just sit with me and talk, that is all I require at this moment." He exclaimed, taking her hand in his. She blushed slightly and took as seat close to Jehan. Her father, Richard, watched the couple with a smile. His own wife, Juliette, had died years before and it made him contented to see his daughter acting like his wife and he had acted when they had first met. Jehan was a gentleman and Richard didn't feel discomfort leaving him alone with Alix.

            "How are you, Mousier Jehan?" He asked, pulling the lovers out of their own little world.

"I am doing quite well, Mousier." Jehan replied, his eyes never leaving Alix's.

"Any news on the Barricades? When will they act on their plan to liberate France?" Richard inquired.

"Well, our leader, Enjolras, is waiting for a sign. Enjolras is quite focused on seeing a sign before we act out on anything. It could be days, weeks, months, even years. He is waiting for the perfect  moment." Jehan explained. He then remembered the pile of flowers that were sitting outside. He hurried and retrieved them.

"Oh! Jehan! Violets, my favorite!" She exclaimed, her eye sparkling. She took them and promptly put them in a vase of water. He then handed her the paper, which he had slipped in his pocket. It was a poem. She read it silently, her eyes slowly filling with tears. She looked up after she had finished.

"Oh, darling. I love you so dearly!" She whispered as he wrapped her in an embrace. After a few moments, he reluctantly released her.

"I must go, love. I will see you tomorrow! I just came to see your beautiful face and tell you 'I love you'." He said, then lowered his voice and whispered, "I love you."

She brought his face to her and kissed him gently. They released each other from the embrace and Jehan left. He felt strong and confident, like he could conquer anything when he was with her.

                                                ******

Days went by, every one of  them filled with planning revolution. But for Jehan, they were also filled with worry. What would happen to Alix if he died? It ate away at him. He didn't want to abandon Alix but he didn't want to desert his 'brothers'. One day, he confided to Eponine his uncertainties. They took a table near the back of the room, talking quietly.

            "What is your problem today, Jehan." Eponine asked, genuinely concerned for her friend.

            "I am so worried, 'Ponine. Enjolras has been talking of nothing except the barricade. I am afraid that....that I'll die on the Barricade and there will be no one to take care of Alix. Sure, she has her father, but he is getting older. I was just sure Alix and I would grow old together...." Jehan rambled.

"Jehan! Calm down! I doubt you'll die on the barricade. You could always back down. Say that you want to help the cause but you don't want to risk your life." Eponine suggested.

"No. I will not be a coward. I want to die for my country if necessary, I just want to make sure Alix will be taken care of." Jehan explained.

"How about this: If you die, which I highly doubt you will, I'll go and visit Alix. Every day. And she can ramble off about how great you are, like you're doing now." Eponine stated firmly with a teasing smile. Jehan was touched by this gesture, even if it was filled with joke.

"You are a tease, do you know that?" Jehan laughed.

"Mousier Marius informed me of that today. He told me 'I like the way you always tease'." Eponine smiled, her eyes looking at the floor.

"Ah, yes. How are things between you two? Is he noticing you more?" Jehan inquired.

"No, in fact, he sent me to find out where Cosette lives. He's only been staring at her in the park." Eponine reported sadly.

"You mean, he's never actually met her?!" Jehan asked, holding back his laughter.

"No, he hasn't. Why?"

"Because he's talked about her as if he had at least talked to her, not just watching her from the shadows!" Jehan said. He could not suppress his laughter. Eponine tried to hold it back, but soon her deep laughter mixed with Jehan's. After a few moments, after they had stifled their laughter, Eponine left to trace Cosette's whereabouts. The meeting started. Enjolras and several others started discussing the amounts of guns and supplies they had stockpiled. They didn't include Jehan in their tête-à-tête because he wasn't as skilled in the knowledge of weapons. He sat there, wondering how much time had gone by. It had to have been over an hour. Suddenly, a young urchin by the name of Gavroche burst into the cafe.

"Listen!" He cried. The room went deadly quiet, as Gavroche knew everything that was happening in Paris. If he wanted to say something, it was going to be important.

"General Lamarque is dead!" He said, slowly, as if he couldn't believe them himself. Gasps broke the silence. Everyone then began to talk at once. Enjolras cleared his throat and said,

"Lamarque, his death is the hour of fate!"

Cheers burst out among the students. Revolution was beginning.

"Gavroche, when will his funeral be held?" Enjolras requested.

"June 5th, to my knowledge." Gavroche answered.

"Then, brothers, we will begin our revolution on the funeral day of General Lamarque! I hope to see you all there, waiting to begin."

The roar started again. Everything was going too fast for Jehan. Five days. He had five days until the Barricades arrived. What would he fill those days with? Those days that could be his last. This confusion was going through his mind when he saw Eponine take Marius downstairs. She must have found the house of Cosette, he thought. And then, seeing love struck Marius and heartbroken Eponine, Jehan knew what he had to do.

                                                            *****

It had to be around 10 o'clock as Jehan walked the streets of Paris. Faster and faster he walked, not worrying about the journey, only thinking of the destination. He passed the 'Lovely Ladies' at their posts. He could hear them calling out to him, but he took no notice. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he arrived at his target. He knocked on the door, then after no one answered, he pounded. He could see a candle bob through the glass of the window next to the door. The bolt was unfastened quickly and the door flew open.

"Jehan, what on earth is the matter?! You look pale." Alix exclaimed as she saw who was standing in the doorway. Her father was close behind her.

"I came straight from the meeting. Alix, I need to ask you something. But first, I need to inform you, the barricades are going to built in five days. At General Lamarque's funeral. And we aren't sure if we are going to make it." Jehan explained. Alix's face grew pale.

"So please, think about that as I ask my next question: Will you marry me?" Jehan asked, pulling out a small gold ring that he had bought weeks after meeting Alix. He hadn't been sure when he would purpose to her, but he had known, even after knowing her just weeks, that he would marry her.

"Oh, Jehan! Of course! Of course!" She cried, looking up at her father, who smiled with approval.

"Even though you may become a widow after just five days of being married?"

"Jehan, I would rather be married to you for an hour than not be married to you at all."

                                                            *****

The couple married that night. Alix, Jehan, and Richard had banged on every church door until one kind (and very tired) Priest agreed to marry them. The couple spent every moment of those five days together. They were happier than they had ever been. But, soon, the dreaded day of June 5th appeared. It was early that morning. Jehan was about to leave. The couple walked outside, wanting to say their goodbyes privately. The street was desolate, not a soul in sight. The couple stared at each other, not sure how to go about saying their parting words. It could be their last time together and they wanted the words to count.

"I want to tell you that becoming your wife made me the happiest woman on earth. And-" Alix started but Jehan quieted her. He leaned in and kissed her gently.

"You becoming my wife made the happiest man on earth." Jehan whispered, feeling tears growing in his eyes.

"Is this really the last time I will see you?" Alix managed to choke-out between sobs.

"I hope not, dearest. But if so, know that my love will be with you forever." Jehan said, starting to cry himself. They threw themselves into each other's arms. They kissed as their tears mixed together. Finally, Jehan unwillingly pulled himself out of her arms.

"I love you, Alix." He whispered.

"I love you, Jehan."

And with that, Jehan Prouvaire left his darling wife in the street, crying, so that he could fight for her future.

                                                            *****

    The barricade was built. Now they were waiting. Waiting. Eponine had died in the confusion of the first attack. The National Guard seemed to back down, planning their attack. Eponine had died in Marius' arms. After she was gone, Marius had kissed her forehead, showing that he had cared for Eponine, at least, in a friendly way. Since they were just waiting, Jehan pulled out a blank sheet of paper and pen. He began to write:

Dearest Wife,

If you are reading this, I am dead. I am so sorry to leave you like this. Know that I will always be with you. Please, if you find someone who treats you nicely, remarry. I hate to think you alone forever. Know that you were the sun to my dark world. I've loved you since the moment I saw you and I never stopped. Know that the last thoughts that went through my head was you. Please do not miss me too much, though I know I shall miss you.

I love you.....Forever,

Jehan

Jehan folded the letter and wrote the address of Alix's house on it. He quietly walked over to the stern looking man who had come to help. He had disguised himself as a soldier and got through unharmed.

"Excuse me, Mousier..?" Jehan asked, realizing he didn't know the man's name.

"Fauchelevent." The man smiled kindly at the young man who stood before him.

"Well, Mousier Fauchelevent, if anyone is going to survive this, it will be you. And...Well, if I don't make it, could you take this letter to Madame Alix Prouvaire? The address is on the letter." Jehan explained, suddenly nervous the man would laugh at him. The man did nothing of the sort. He smiled at him with a fatherly smile and said,

"I shall do so. But I am sure you will make it through."

Jehan smiled back and spent the rest of the night waiting. Waiting.

                                                            *****

During one attack, Jehan was taken prisoner.  At first, they just kept him tied up but then they put a gun to his chest. They waited, seeing if anyone would surrender. Enjolras looked at him, as if asking,  "Should we surrender?" Even their fearless leader was beginning to doubt this plan. Jehan shook his head, smiled, and mouthed, "Vive La France." Enjolras smiled and saluted. Within seconds, the bullet pierced through Jehan. He collapsed, breathing one last breath and whispering, "Alix".

                                                            ****

Mousier Fauchelevent walked the streets, searching for a house. He glanced at the letter that was clasped in his hand. Soon, he came across a small house that bore the address on the letter. He knocked and waited. A young girl of perhaps 18, older than his daughter Cosette, answered the door. Her eyes were red and swollen. It was June 9th. No word had come from Jehan.

"Hello, are you Madame Prouvaire?" He inquired, kindly.

"Yes, I am she." She said, her voice cracking.

" I am here because a man on the barricade told me to deliver this letter to this address if something happened to him. I am so sorry for your loss. He died a hero, a prisoner of war. You were very lucky to know him." The man said, handing her the letter. She tore open the letter and read each word carefully, as if savoring it. She began to sob. A man, her father, can and lead her back inside. He then returned.

"Forgive my daughter, that was her husband." The man said.

"I figured. How long had they been married? They both looked so young." Mousier Fauchelevent inquired.

"They would have been married for 10 days today." The man spoke, a small catch appearing in his voice.

"My thoughts are with your family. I shall leave you to your mourning." Fauchelevent said, turning to leave. He would have liked to know that boy a bit better. The one who gave his life for freedom.

Hope you enjoyed!
Over and Out!
Sydney