Strider came with the group back to their rooms. All of them crowded in Enjolras' and Combeferre's room. She removed her hood to reveal a pretty face and lots of hair. Courfeyrac was snickering, but not at her. Joly and Bossuet's mouths had dropped open, and they were staring at her.
"So?" Enjolras looked at her.
"I know much about your journey," she said, "and about your quest to destroy It. I also have come to tell you about the King's Soldiers. They're everywhere, and they're close by. You can't trust strangers anymore."
"You're a stranger," Combeferre pointed out.
The girl grinned, "ah yes, but Lamarque knows me. Anyways, what just happened was dangerous. The men at the bar are talking about that stunt with the Ring and how odd you all are. You must be careful."
Before the conversation could continue, someone knocked on the door.
Madame Magloire entered and sighed, "So, sorry Enjolras. You see here, I have a letter addressed to you from Lamarque. It was given to me…three? Yes, three months ago. I just forgot about it, but I'm glad you came."
"Three months?!" Joly exclaimed, his eyes wide.
"Sorry," Madame Magloire handed the letter to Enjolras and left. Enjolras quickly opened it and read it.
Dear Enjolras,
Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave your village soon. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through the Musain. You can trust the landlady, Madame Magloire. You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a woman, lean, brunette, tall, by some called Strider. She knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Myriel will advise you.
Yours in haste
Lamarque
P.S. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!
P.P.S. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange people on the roads. Her true name is Musichetta.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
P.P.P.S. I hope Madame Magloire sends this promptly. A worthy woman, but her memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If she forgets, I shall roast her.
Fare Well!
After reading it to himself, Enjolras handed the letter to Combeferre, who read it aloud.
"So, you're Musichetta?" Bossuet asked, smiling. Joly and he seemed to be under a sort of spell.
"Yes, I am," Musichetta nodded.
Grantaire raised his eyebrows, "and how do we know that you aren't working against us?"
"Because I could have easily killed you and taken the Ring if I had wanted to," Musichetta said.
"So, you're our guide?" Combeferre said, rather reluctantly. He enjoyed being the guide of the group, like Enjolras enjoyed being the leader, and Courfeyrac enjoyed being the center.
"Just think of me as along for the ride," Musichetta said, simply. Her eyes lingered over Joly and Bossuet.
Everyone relaxed and sat around the room talking. Courfeyrac and Jehan went for a small walk and came back, alarmed.
"I think we saw a soldier!" Jehan said, panting.
"We shouldn't split up," Musichetta said. "We all should sleep in one room."
"There are only two beds," Feuilly complained.
Musichetta ignored him and stood up, "for those of you in other rooms, go to put the pillows under the blankets and then return here."
They all nodded and did as they said. After that was done, they tried to get comfortable in the small room. Enjolras was pressured into taking a bed by Grantaire, and Combeferre shamelessly joined him. Grantaire sat at the foot of the bed, like he was keeping watch over them. Courfeyrac and Jehan took the other bed, while Feuilly and Bahorel just fell asleep on the floor. Musichetta sat by the door, and Bossuet and Joly sat with her. At least one of them was awake during the night.