He gets up and follows them.

They walk until they reach a little house! It tries very hard to compensate with pretty for the thick walls and windowlessness.

"Why doesn't it have any windows?" he wonders.

The locals, who are no longer reading his mind or at least no longer acknowledging doing so, cannot understand the question!

"I don't care if you can tell what I'm saying, but I guess I didn't ask if you could limit it to that."

The locals continue not to understand what he is saying.

Ah-huh. Into tiny windowless house?

Yep! One room, with a bed and a couch and table and chairs and and some kind of harp thing in the corner.

Okay.

We'll bring meals by. Someone who can learn your language is on the way.

A ballpark time estimate would be nice. "Thanks!"

They leave.

For lack of anything better to do he picks at the harp thing. Pluck pluck.

After a little while there is a knock.

Cor gets the door.

Local! "Curufinwë Atarinke," he says, gesturing at himself.

"Corbelan. How does this work, do I just talk? Did the people who picked me up generate you a little list of vocab?"

"Talk? I talk? The people who picked me up talk?"

"Those are all grammatically correct and the second bit is also true. I'm not sure if anyone picked you up so I'm not qualified to evaluate that one."

"You talk?" He points. "You? I? I'm not qualified to evaluate that one." 

"You," point, "I," point, "random passersby I guess -" point out the windows that there aren't.

"Uh huh. You talk, I talk, random passersby talk. You talk, I generate you a little list of vocab?"

"It would work better if you wrote it down probably. Very inconvenient that this mode of transit didn't let me bring notes. Or more clothes. I would have needed so many sheep." He mimes writing when he mentions it.

He can take notes! In a swoopy sort of alphabet. "Wrote?"

"You are writing. Congratulations. Pretty lettering."