Belle Takes Flight

by RH Disney

  Belle hung on to the edge of the basket and watched as Lumiere and Cogsworth raced after the escaping balloon. Lumiere scrambled up the side ladder, diving over the rim and dropping to the floor at Belle’s feet. Belle held her hand out to Cogsworth, who huffed after the balloon and tried to leap inside. But between his short height and generous weight, he barely got off the ground.

  “Lumiere!” Belle yelled. Lumiere quickly stood and stretched over the edge of the basket. He grabbed Cogsworth’s meaty arms and yanked him up with a grunt. Belle grabbed Cogsworth’s jacket, and together she and Lumiere hauled Cogsworth into the balloon.

  “Don’t worry!” Belle called down to Maurice as the balloon rose over the wall. “We’ll be all right!”

  The cloud bank was overhead now. The wind grew stronger.

  “Hold on!” Belle yelled to her companions as the wind blew the balloon roughly forward, causing the basket to sway. Belle watched her father and the others at the top of the tower grow smaller as the balloon gathered speed, still rocking violently.

  Apparently, even “happy” clouds weren’t safe.

  Belle clutched the side of the basket and tried to wave to the tiny figures at the top of the castle, but the balloon continued to sway, and she needed both hands to keep from losing her balance. The door to the tool cabinet broke open, and the tools, along with the telescope and the compass, fell out and slipped through the slats in the floor before Belle could reach for them, clanking against the boiler as they tumbled to the earth below.

  Lumiere gripped one of the balloon’s ropes and was thrown about by gusts of wind that seemed to come from every direction. Cogsworth appeared relatively safe, at least, curled up in a ball in a corner of the basket.

  “What is that?” Cogsworth whimpered as a tinny clatter sounded from the bottom of the boiler. Belle peered out and discovered that they were scraping the top of the forest’s trees.

  “Are we falling?” cried Lumiere.

  “I think I’m going to be ill,” Cogsworth moaned. He clutched his stomach. “Correction: I am ill.”

  Belle felt a stab of panic but tried to ignore it. “We just need to get steam into the balloon,” she called over the wind. She made her way along the basket rim to the rod that controlled the steam. When she turned it toward her, a tiny puff of hot air coughed its way up from the boiler.

  “I see it!” Lumiere yelled in relief, watching the steam swirl upward. But it wasn’t strong or steady enough yet to reach the balloon, which still flapped violently above them.

  “The steam is blowing away instead of blowing straight up!” Belle shouted. The balloon lurched, sending the picnic basket skittering across the bottom. It bonked Cogsworth in the head.

  “Ow!” Cogsworth moaned. “I knew this was a ridiculous scheme.” He rubbed his scalp. “Your father is a madman, Belle—no offense. How could anyone believe a steam balloon could work?”

  “It does work,” Belle insisted. “And it will.” She was terrified Cogsworth might be right, but her fear made her even more determined not to give up. “There should be more steam soon. Help me pull the balloon to the middle. We have to be ready when the boiler’s at full power.”

  Belle and Lumiere used all their strength to tug the open end of the silk balloon over the top of the large tin cylinder in the center of the cedar basket. That was where the steam would come out. Beneath them, the boiler chugged and vibrated. “Cogsworth! Turn the rod when I tell you!” Belle called out.

  Cogsworth crawled to the steam-valve rod and clutched the base with both hands.

  “Ready!” Belle yelled to Cogsworth, who shut his eyes tight and twisted his wrists. The rod turned, the valve opened, and steam burst out. Belle could feel it warming her hands as it filled the balloon, inflating the silk panels until they were stretched as wide and high as they could go.

  The balloon began to rise, up, up, up, above the forest and into the clear blue sky. Belle exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

  “We did it!” Lumiere said. He hugged Belle, then realized that he’d let go of the ropes and quickly reached out to grab them again.

  “It’s all right,” Belle said. “I think you can let go now.”

  The wind had calmed, and the balloon had stopped swaying. Belle stepped over to Cogsworth. His knuckles were white from his grip on the rod. His face was just as pale, his eyes still tightly closed. “We can turn off the steam,” she told him gently. They weren’t just above the forest now; they were beyond it. The balloon glided smoothly forward. “It’s safe to get up. I promise.”

  “Oui, mon ami,” Lumiere said. “No need to be afraid. Everything’s fine. Un peu of a rocky start, that’s all.”

  Cogsworth squinted one eye. “I’m actually quite comfortable down here,” he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “This way, I can keep a close watch on our lunch.” He hugged the picnic basket to his chest.

  Belle joined Lumiere at the edge of the balloon’s basket and gazed at the countryside below. Striped swatches of farmland alternated with green fields and meadows dotted with color. It was like a giant patchwork quilt, spread out so far and wide it seemed to go on forever.

  “Comme c’est belle!” Lumiere sighed.

  “It is,” Belle agreed. “Beautiful.” Here and there was a tiny rectangle or square of a house or barn. The ovals and ribbons of the lakes and rivers were as blue as the sky.

  “You are missing it, mon ami!” Lumiere called down to Cogsworth. Belle glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that Cogsworth was sitting up, and the pink had returned to his cheeks.

  “I’ll join you in just a minute,” he replied. He began to stand up, but a flicker of fear flashed across his face and he sat back down. “Perhaps two.”

  Lumiere looked at Belle and shrugged.

  Belle felt a breeze blow past her shoulder. “The wind’s changed direction,” she said. “We need to rise farther or we’ll be blown back the way we came.”

  “How will rising help?” Lumiere asked.

  “The wind moves in different directions at different altitudes,” Belle explained. “That’s how birds fly where they want to go—they rise until they reach the right current.”

  Belle crossed to the steam rod to open it but hesitated. She glanced at Cogsworth and then turned to Lumiere. “Would you like to open the valve this time?” she asked him.

  “Ah, oui! Bien sûr!” Lumiere darted to Belle’s side.

  “No, no, no!” Cogsworth protested. “That’s my job!” As Belle had hoped, he was energized by the possibility of Lumiere’s outdoing him. He burst off the floor and thrust out a hand to clasp the rod.

  “Are you ready?” Belle asked. Cogsworth nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Cogsworth drew the handle toward him. A moment later, steam emerged and the balloon rose.

  “Keep it open until I tell you,” Belle instructed. She closed her eyes, waiting. She didn’t have feathers for the breeze to ruffle or wings to sense the current, but she could still feel the wind on her cheeks and through her hair. It made a hushing sound that blew against one ear and brushed across her face. After a few minutes, it changed. It now whispered in her other ear, grazing her face from the other direction. “That’s enough!” Belle opened her eyes. “You can turn it off.”

  “Done!” Cogsworth announced proudly. He put his free hand on his hip, as if posing for a portrait.

  “Thank you,” Belle said. “That was perfect.” She gave Lumiere a pointed look and nodded in Cogsworth’s direction.

  “Oui, oui,” Lumiere said reluctantly, getting the hint. “Magnifique,” he added with the slightest roll of his eyes.

  Cogsworth beamed, pleased. “Consider me the balloon’s official steam releaser.” He drew out his pocket watch and peered down at it. “Nearly noon!” he reported brightly. “Time for lunch.”

  Bell
e smiled, happy that Cogsworth’s fear had fled at last.

  They set out their food on a shelf below the basket’s ledge, to protect it from the wind. They were quiet as they ate, taking in the view. The clouds grew sparser the farther they traveled, but the wind remained unchanging, carrying them steadily southward.

  Finally, clouds appeared again, a misty gray mass that spread along the horizon.

  “Ah!” Lumiere cried. “Right in our path! As if waiting for us to absorb them.”

  “That’s not only clouds,” Belle said. As they sailed closer, the wide stone wall of a kingdom emerged from the mist.

  “Brumeux?” Lumiere asked.

  Belle shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Could we have traveled that far south so quickly?” She withdrew the map from her pocket and unfolded it. “If I can find this kingdom on the map, it’ll tell us how far we’ve come and how far we still need to go.”

  “In the meantime, we can capture those clouds!” Lumiere declared. “I shall stand by!” He took his place at the crank that worked the suction valve, which would pull in the clouds.

  “We need to raise the balloon first,” warned Belle. “We don’t want to hit the wall.”

  “Step aside, Lumiere.” Cogsworth elbowed Lumiere away so he could grab the steam-valve rod. “Say the word, mademoiselle!”

  “Go ahead,” Belle told Cogsworth. He opened the steam-valve, and the balloon rose.

  “I think this is the lake we passed not too long ago,” Belle said, running her finger down the map. “But I don’t see a kingdom nearby.” She hoped they hadn’t gotten off track somehow.

  “Allow me,” Cogsworth said. Belle handed him the map.

  “I have traveled the country, remember,” Lumiere said. “I should look.” He plucked the map from Cogsworth’s hand. Cogsworth snatched it back. Lumiere lunged for it again, but as he did, a breeze blew by and the map flew out of Cogsworth’s hand. “Mon Dieu!” Lumiere cried.

  Belle reached for the map, but it whisked past her, grazing her fingers before sailing off on the breeze.

  “How could you?” Cogsworth said to Lumiere.

  “It was an accident!” Lumiere protested.

  A loud bong broke through their arguing. “Never mind the map!” Belle shouted, staring ahead in horror.

  A clock tower, which had been hidden by the clouds, clearly poked up from behind the fast-approaching wall. “We need to rise,” Belle told the others, “or we’ll run into that tower!” Another bong sounded, like a warning.

  The balloon flew closer, and Belle could see the spires of a large castle beyond the tower. She dashed to the steam rod and pulled it toward her. All that came out was a gurgle. Belle jiggled the rod. A cough, then another gurgle. The pipes in the boiler below them let out a loud clank.

  “Is that a bad sound?” Cogsworth asked, clutching Lumiere’s arm.

  “Mais non,” insisted Lumiere. “We’re fine.” His tone was calm, but he held tight to Cogsworth. “Right, Belle?”

  The clock tower chimed again. Bong!

  Belle didn’t respond. She was certain her friends knew the answer.

  Bong!

  The balloon was sinking….

  Bong!

  They were out of steam.

  CRASH!

  The balloon’s boiler smashed into the top of the kingdom’s wall, knocking loose several stones. Belle heard a clatter as the stones landed somewhere below. The collision threw them out of the path of the clock tower, but they were still in danger of crashing into the castle. They needed steam, which meant they needed clouds. Luckily, they were surrounded by clouds.

  While Cogsworth and Lumiere huddled in fright, Belle grabbed the suction crank and pumped it with one hand, drawing in the clouds. She used her other hand to twist the steam rod to keep the valve open.

  She heard a faint rattle as the Magic Stone warmed the clouds and the vapor began to make its way through the boiler pipes.

  The sound snapped Lumiere out of his frightened daze. “We need to fuel the tank!” he shouted. He rushed to Belle’s side.

  “Yes, yes!” Cogsworth cried, hurrying to join them. “This is no time to panic! We must take action!” He clutched the steam rod while Belle and Lumiere worked together to pump in clouds from the mist around them.

  The balloon’s direction shifted and they narrowly slid past the castle. Belle could see the structure’s tallest spire just outside the rim of the basket. The castle grew smaller as the balloon rose higher. No light shone from any of the castle windows. Dark and gloomy, it was like a walled-off ruin, desolate and forgotten.

  The balloon caught a current and carried them forward. The castle vanished into the fog behind them. Even more fog was in front of them, making it impossible to see what lay ahead.

  Cogsworth narrowed his eyes at their murky surroundings. “Awfully dark all of a sudden,” he observed.

  “We have been traveling through clouds, mon ami,” Lumiere said. “Which means we cannot see the sun—this is why it is dark. It is as obvious as the nose on your face. In fact…” He pointed to a strip of mist floating past. “There is a cloud on your face!” He laughed. Cogsworth frowned.

  Belle glanced around. Cogsworth was right. It had gotten darker—and it seemed to be growing darker every second. It looked like it did when it was about to—

  “Rain!” Lumiere held his hand out, palm up.

  Belle leaned back so that the silk globe above them no longer shielded her face. Cool drops fell on her cheeks and forehead.

  “Aha! I was right—again!” Cogsworth blinked as raindrops landed on his eyelids. It was only a sprinkle, though, and it stopped almost as soon as it started.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Lumiere pronounced, brushing the raindrops off his sleeves. “Très refreshing, in fact!”

  Belle had a clear view of the sky above her, however, and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw. “I don’t think it’s over,” she told Cogsworth and Lumiere. Far above, a large black mass roiled and churned with an angry energy.

  “If we go lower, maybe we can catch a faster current.” Belle grabbed the pull cord to release some steam. “Yell if you see trees or towers, or anything else we need to steer around.”

  “I see nothing,” Cogsworth reported.

  “Literally…rien—nothing,” Lumiere echoed.

  “We should look for a safe place to land until the sky clears again,” said Belle. Unfortunately, the ground was covered in the same mist that had buried the castle, making it impossible to see what was beneath them. It could be an open field or a village of densely packed houses.

  Suddenly, a strange rumble came from the sky. A blinding light exploded at the middle of the dark cloud, followed by a deafening roar.

  “It’s alive!” Lumiere shouted.

  The storm cloud let out a peeved snap in answer and set off another flash of light. A second later, raindrops flooded down, as if a dam had suddenly burst.

  The balloon skidded over the top of a grove of trees. Branches scraped the bottom of the boiler. A bewildered blue songbird, startled from its nest, fluttered past Belle’s nose, chirping.

  Belle turned the rod to release more steam, and the balloon rose. The downpour became a drizzle, and Belle was relieved to see the black cloud sail beyond them, taking the rain with it. There were a few puddles on the floor of the cedar basket, but most of the water had drained away.

  The sky remained gray as they sailed forward, and a fine mist hung in the air. A few outlines of straw-covered shacks were visible through the fog below.

  Lumiere wrung the water from his ponytail. “I remember a performance we gave in one village,” he said. “We were right in the middle of our finale, when—whoosh! A downpour just like this one. Quelle surprise! It stopped almost as soon as it started, so we shook off the
rain and finished our song.” He chuckled. “My father always said ‘Le spectacle doit continuer!’ The show must go on.” He flicked his ponytail over his shoulder, then paused, thoughtful. “I believe that village…” He leaned out over the basket and squinted ahead. “It was! Brumeuxville!” He pointed into the dewy distance. “And there are Les Collines Flous!”

  Belle joined Lumiere and squinted into the mist. At first, the vista ahead looked merely like shades of gray to her. Soon, however, the fog thinned, revealing two jagged peaks on the horizon—two very familiar jagged peaks.

  “We’re here!” Belle shouted. She hugged Lumiere. “The Prince must be in the castle we passed over!” She was overcome with emotion—joy, relief, and eagerness to see the Prince. Tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away, as she had the raindrops. “Now we just need to find a place to land.” She peered over the side of the basket, looking for a break in the fog that would allow a clear view of what lay below.

  The chirping she’d heard moments before grew louder, and the blue songbird appeared out of the gray. Belle followed its path with her eyes, hoping the bird might lead them to a clearing. Instead, the bird swooped up toward the top of the balloon and was soon out of sight.

  “I think I see something,” Cogsworth said, gesturing ahead.

  Belle saw it, too—a large patch of green and yellow. It could be a pasture or a farm plot, but either way, it seemed like the safest place to set down. “As soon as we’re close enough, I’ll let out the steam,” she said. As Belle took the pull cord in her hand, she heard an odd pop above them, followed by a loud hiss. A second later, a small shape fell past her face. She instinctively reached out to catch it, and the blue songbird landed in her open palms. Its tiny eyes blinked rapidly. On the end of its beak was a tiny scrap of silk.

  The hissing grew louder. Above them, the balloon deflated, shrinking from a large orb to a giant wrinkled sock. The weight of the boiler pulled the balloon toward the ground too fast for Lumiere and Cogsworth to have time to scream, too fast for Belle to let go of the bird, and too fast for her to think of anything they could do to stop them from—