clayforthedevil | In Which Libraries are Not Quiet

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In Which Libraries are Not Quiet

Bahorel strides into the library with easy speed. He walks past the strange computer help desk and past the current front shelves-- something about animation, this time, and history, and those changing shelves are always interesting, but it's not what they're here for.

Harry, while clearly no admirer of libraries, may still notice that there a few more books here than in the libraries he was used to. Just a few.

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"Ah!" He draws nearer, but seems hesitant to touch them. "Know you what they concern? Recommend you any in particular?"

Bahorel runs a hand along one of the shelves. This is something like battle planning; he's taking it almost seriously.

"Our Northman looks human--at least sometimes-- and we know he's from Europe, so ..." He grabs a few old hardcovers and one extremely shoddy-looking paperback with a garish painting of a woman being bittend on the front. "Probably these. There are a good many legends, though; you may not find anything here that's entirely right. But it's enough to give you the general idea.--they won't be quite so lively when we've left the Library, I think it's being around the others that does it. Want to look around for other books while we're here?"

The other books are practically screaming to be looked at! Some of them almost seem to know their visitor's names.

"--I think they will be displeased if we do not."

He goes curiously over to the rather furry, quivering Monster Book of Monsters and begins to carefully ease it off the shelf.

"I am sure Feuilly's books never behave so."

Bahorel laughs. "Feuilly's probably a good influence on them."

As long as Harry's looking, Bahorel will, too. Even in this one room of the Library there are more books than a man could read in a normal lifetime.

Harry, stretching on tip-toe for a book, just manages to snag the upper corner with his fingers and tilt it off the shelf. But rather than falling into his waiting hands, it gives a little cry of delight (which sounds rather like the crackling of new pages) and takes flight, covers flapping like wings as it swoops in circles above their heads. Harry, cursing, tries to snatch it, but it hovers just out of his reach.

Bahorel grins. "Your hunt, Sir Percy! Do you want aid, or is the quarry yours alone?"

He's in no hurry; if Harry wants to run around chasing a book, that's fine by him.

"Perhaps if-- if we seek to corner it-- you from that side, I from this..."

Because of course he's not going to ask for help explicitly.

pffft, asking for help. It's just sharing the fun!

Bahorel gets up, still grinning, and takes his place where Harry asked. The book swings between the two of them, seeming to consider its options.

Harry edges closer, closing in its available space. Not necessarily the most effective tactic against something that can fly, but he's hoping the sudden addition of Bahorel's superior height to the offensive will take the book off-guard.

Bahorel shrugs off his coat, trusting Harry to see the obvious use there; a net, yes?

Is Harry going to make the attack?

Oh, clever plan. His own doublet has too many buttons to shrug off so easily, and he doesn't want the book to catch on. So, to drive the book towards Bahorel's net, he makes a leaping lunge for the book, which flutters frantically away from him.

It flaps back, and up--

but not far enough up. With a cheerful shout, Bahorel whips his coat across the book's cover and swings it towards Harry.

Harry seizes hold of it with a triumphant shout.

Taking care to keep the book pressed against his chest, he awkwardly disentangles Bahorel's coat and offers it back to him.

"And the bounty for our triumph is--" He tilts his head to look at the title. "--a book on birds."

He sounds slightly disappointed.

"In this room?" Bahorel is less disappointed and more intrigued. "Hell, I'm reading that, then." He takes the book off Harry's hands and looks around again. "You know, I've never seen a ladder for the taller shelves. I wonder if all of the higher books in here fly?"

Harry tilts his head back up to peer at them.

"It would do little good, if they are all so unruly. Though perhaps there is a means to subdue them to your will, but we know it not."

"Hah, good point." Bahorel looks up into the higher shelves and smiles. "Wild books-- I like that. It's how they should be." He looks down at the stray bird-book. " And you could have flown straight up when you fell out of your shelf, you know, so don't act as if we've stolen you from the nest."

To Harry he says "Let me know when you're wanting to go; there's a shortcut to get out."

Harry has The Monster Book of Monsters (which someone seems to have tied up with a string, strange) and another book, one of the ones with some spelling of "Vampire" in the title tucked under his arm. He takes another glance around, then looks to Bahorel with a brisk nod.

"Let us see this shortcut."

Bahorel grins. "All right, now this one makes no sense, but--" he kicks down hard on one of the stones in the hall; it tilts just enough to give him an edge to grab and lift it away. That leaves not a very big gap in the floor, but enough for a man to fit through.

Bahorel, holding his books close to his chest, gives Harry an expression that says yes, this is ridiculous, but isn't it fun and jumps into the gap.

--And lands neatly in the front room of the Library, and very quickly steps aside. Hotspur doesn't seem the sort to hesitate long before a mere unknown leap.

How did Bahorel guess?? Harry does indeed emerge mere moments later, eyes wide.

"It does not make sense," he agrees, glancing around to try and reassure himself that yes, this is the room he thinks it is. Or at least a different, but identical one. That also seems possible. "--are all libraries made so?"

"Perhaps on some worlds!" It's a cheering thought, and probably even likely. "In mine they were mostly old buildings stuffed with whatever books the owner could afford. Ah, but there were the real libraries too, in Paris...the buildings more bound to gravity and physics as you'd know it, and no building in our world could have held so many books. But still enough books and enough floors to steal a man from the world for a full day if he wasn't careful, and the archivists didn't kick him out. "

He taps the cover of the bird book. "--And the books weren't so obviously spirited. But of course that's always the trick with books."

"Oh." He seems faintly disappointed by this information. Then again, not that it matters, as this is the only library he'll have cause to encounter for the foreseeable future.

"I would not have taken you, sir, as one to be so enamored of study."

Bahorel laughs. "Do I seem one to be enamored of ignorance, then? --Don't worry, you wouldn't be the first to assume I was; many of my teachers would take your side in that."

He looks at Harry thoughtfully. "You wouldn't choose ignorance--not in something you valued." This is based more on a knowledge of Feuilly than of anything Bahorel knows about Harry Percy; f Harry was insistently ignorant, Feuilly wouldn't be so fond of him. "You must have studied battle, at least, and the history of your country, and the rights and duties of your family."

Edited 2015-08-19 16:59 (UTC)

"Why, so I did-- of course I did," Harry says. "But such things are not learned in books."

" Maybe you didn't have the right books. Not many libraries can answer every request. But there are books you could have used-- stories from commanders and fighting men, and more-- the maps alone! But there are maps--were maps, will be-- in both our times. Books on planning and campaigns and tactics, too."

He looks at Harry thoughtfully. "And you didn't get to read them. Somehow, in your own castle or by the decisions of men possibly nations away, someone decided you wouldn't get to know. That you didn't have the right even to choose ignorance, that you couldn't be trusted to do your part if you had that bit of knowledge."

Sorry, Harry, you've got him on a tear now. "And you may ask how I know that, and I know that because I read it; the words of censors and the stories of men who chose what books went where, long before I was born. And what my teachers told me, too, some of them; read this, don't read that, you're not soul enough to stand against it!!Hah, and they'd prate on about the soul needing to learn strength, and then swear it couldn't handle a few stray bits of ink!"

But while he's on a tear, he hasn't lost sight of what prompted it. "--So you see I did learn to fight from study, and for study. How to see the fight being set up, and sometimes how to get out of a fight I hadn't chosen; that, first. And more." He smiles and flips a book out of the stack he's accumulated, and holds it out to Harry. It's a slim little thing, with the title Defense Against the Dark Dead: Combat Against The Superhuman. "And then there's the direct lessons, of course."

Edited 2015-08-23 13:08 (UTC)

Harry takes the book carefully, looks at the title: yes, he'll be hanging onto that one, thank you.

He does not know, of course, about the most recent and most significant instance of what Bahorel describes, but he has more than enough memories to draw on without it, all of which come floating vaguely to the front of his mind. His father's voice and his uncle's, assuring him thou needst not know and it concerns thee not and could it not be there were times they said nothing of the kind, but quietly decided between them there were things they would not mention?

"It may be so," is all he manages to say. But it's very likely the direction of his thoughts shows more clearly in his furrowed brow.

Edited 2015-08-24 01:19 (UTC)

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clayforthedevil - 2015-08-24 10:47 (UTC) - Expand

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harryhotspur - 2015-08-24 11:54 (UTC) - Expand

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