They're good questions-- and neither of them has answers. The obvious decision is to wait until the the next day and hope they can ask their hosts more questions, and more directly.
But it's their hosts offering more questions as the day goes along, and they become more used to the strangers visiting them. More questions, when another villager comes come back from a simple trip to gather wood with another story of terrifying ghosts.
Even more questions, from a visitor who's obviously not from the village comes by--questions which are pretty clearly demands. Not that Enjolras and Bahorel can exactly hear from the cottage where they've been hidden away. Heard or not, the new visitor is clearly an Authority. It sets Bahorel's teeth on edge, and seems to have the same effect on the people who live there. There's a new quiet while the visitor is there, and new questions, and angrier ones, after he's well gone.
New questions, and yet familiar ones. Who do they think they are and what are they even doing up there , even if Bahorel doesn't know exactly where There is. What do they think we are, that's an old friend, and What are we supposed to do?
And the answers all seem to depend on knowing more than they know, more than anyone in the village can know-- and from places farther away than any of them can be spared to go, with the new and confusing orders and demands from their King coming ever more often--and the roads and towns in any case watched for people traveling without a passport. (That makes Bahorel growl too-- passports, again.)
Conversations go on, and Enjolras and Bahorel and the villagers alike end up finding themselves circling the same idea: If only there were someone without their own field and families duties to be spared, old enough and healthy enough to have some chance of carrying news.
no subject
But it's their hosts offering more questions as the day goes along, and they become more used to the strangers visiting them. More questions, when another villager comes come back from a simple trip to gather wood with another story of terrifying ghosts.
Even more questions, from a visitor who's obviously not from the village comes by--questions which are pretty clearly demands. Not that Enjolras and Bahorel can exactly hear from the cottage where they've been hidden away. Heard or not, the new visitor is clearly an Authority. It sets Bahorel's teeth on edge, and seems to have the same effect on the people who live there. There's a new quiet while the visitor is there, and new questions, and angrier ones, after he's well gone.
New questions, and yet familiar ones. Who do they think they are and what are they even doing up there , even if Bahorel doesn't know exactly where There is. What do they think we are, that's an old friend, and What are we supposed to do?
And the answers all seem to depend on knowing more than they know, more than anyone in the village can know-- and from places farther away than any of them can be spared to go, with the new and confusing orders and demands from their King coming ever more often--and the roads and towns in any case watched for people traveling without a passport. (That makes Bahorel growl too-- passports, again.)
Conversations go on, and Enjolras and Bahorel and the villagers alike end up finding themselves circling the same idea: If only there were someone without their own field and families duties to be spared, old enough and healthy enough to have some chance of carrying news.