"Getting lost along your path is part of finding the path you were meant to be on" - Robin S. Sharma

My Time With the Horselords

Chapter 1

What I remember most was the sharp, shooting pain in my head. The foggy memories of the night before were coming back to me. I assumed I had fallen asleep on our couch, comfortable as brick. I tried to turn over, but the sun was shining through the breaks in the curtains, and I forced my eyes tighter shut, begging for them to adjust before I opened them. But something wasn't right. Below me was not the ugly brown cushion of our couch, but ground. Earthy ground covered in prickly grass and sporadic hay. The gang must have pulled some kind of prank on me, I knew it. It was just like them to get me the most drunk and take me where I didn't belong out in the middle of the woods. But this wasn't the woods. My eyes began to adjust and from there, I started to grow scared. All around me was the morning mist of foreign plains I had never seen before. As far as the eye could see, the light blue sky seemed to touch the ground. It was deserted and unfamiliar. I was not a well-traveled person and I didn't know these sights. They were not the soft hills of South Carolina or the beating sun of the summer I seemed to leave behind. The sun burned a bright orange, it's red fading from what must have been a gorgeous sunrise. I sat up slowly, the remains of my hangover trickling still from my system. Slowly, I stood, wrapping the light sweater I wore tighter around my torso as the wind whipped fiercely across my body in a cold foreign to South Carolina summers. In fact, it didn't seem like summer at all. In the distance I saw trees whose leaves were browning and falling to the ground. The abundance of pines were even shedding brown needles to their feet.

My denim shorts and tank top below my sweater did nothing for the chill and looking at the dirt terrain I thanked God that I was at least wearing socks and sneakers. I turned in a circle, taking in the breathless view of the plains around me, praying for a view that was not of blue sky meeting green-brown earth. There were no lights in the distance, no signs of life. There was barely even the sounds of nature and animals in the air. There was nowhere for me to go that made any remote sense. I felt a sense of panic, to curl up into a ball and wait for someone to find me there, but I knew that would do no good. There weren't even roads to follow and who knew how long it would take someone to find me. So I made a plan. It wasn't that good of a plan, I just started walking. But it was the only idea I had to get my hands on a cell phone and find my way home. My friends were going to pay for this, bringing me wherever they had brought me. It wasn't even funny anymore. In truth, it never really was but I was willing to forgive them for a slight prank, but this was too far.

My legs were perpetually goose-bumped from the chill in the air and I had no shelter or even warmer clothes to wrap myself in. Finding someone was imperative to surviving whatever had happened to me. I walked for what seemed like some time, the cold tearing into my skin. I kept my hands clasped in the pocket of my hoodie, continuously rubbing them together, but it did no good. Soon, the chances of producing any kind of friction heat was gone. There was no one around. The only sounds were the occasional caw of a bird or the whip of the wind. There were no roads or trails, just parts of the earth that seemed more worn than others. This was what I followed, the beaten ground. I walked and walked until I came upon my first clue. A glare from the sun emitted off of something embedded in the ground ahead of me and I ran to it when it caught my gaze. It was something iron and I had to dig it from the ground grabbing a small stick and pulling the thing from the earth. It was a horseshoe. I didn't know too much about horses. I worked on a facility that housed them so I knew how to behave around them, but the only thing I knew about how to care for them was what I had learned from my friends who worked in the barn. I was pretty sure horseshoes didn't just fall off, but this one was worn to bits. It almost wasn't even a shoe anymore, just a curved piece of iron. It was useless to me, though and I tossed it back to the ground and continued my journey.

Walking brought me to an incline. I had told myself I would stay in the valley, but the plains were no longer curving into a valley, just a hill. Beyond that hill, I finally heard voices. So I climbed, and that's where my story really began.

At the peak of the incline I finally found, what at first I assumed, was help. A group of people were at the land below me, but it wasn't just people. They all rode atop horses, but it wasn't the horses or the size of the group in the middle of nowhere that scared me. It was the fact that they were all in armor and carrying weapons. Not like bulletproof vests and guns, but armor and weapons of the middle ages. Spears and swords, helmets with plumes of hair protruding from the top. I looked around me frantically, for somewhere to hide, but the trees were scarce. I turned around instead and started moving back down the hill i had trudged up, hearing their voices in the distance, but unable to make out what they were saying. I was too far away. It didn't matter, though. Whatever these guys were, I didn't need to get mixed up in it. One thing was for sure, though. I knew there was no way I was in North Carolina or Tennessee. There weren't permits issued for groups of horses that size outside of pastures and I couldn't have been inside a pasture. It was much too large. I would have at least heard of a pasture this large from my coworkers back home. Then the panic set in and I couldn't walk anymore. I had to run. I bolted back in the direction I had come from.

I didn't make it far before my breath caught up with me. I slowed my pace to catch my breath, but I was too quick and I tumbled into the dirt, scraping my bare legs on the rocks there. I winced and inspected my skin. It wasn't too bad. Luckily I hadn't broken a leg and I gently stood back up, my breath still catching and my heart still racing. I started walking again, but it didn't last for long. Twenty paces further and I heard the galloping of horse hooves behind me. Instinctually, I turned around, finding two horses headed straight for me, each helmed by a rider, both with thick, metal armor and helmets adorned with what looked like the tails of horses as plumbs. The adrenaline kicked in and I tried to run again, but there was no way I could outrun a horse. Eventually, they caught me and cut off my route with their beasts. The shock of their speed sent me falling to the ground.

Close up, I realized that these weren't regular horses. One was a chestnut and the other a light gray color. I wasn't proficient enough to name its type. These horses were large, much larger than the stables at the camp where I worked back home. And there was something...mean about them. Fierce and wild.

But the horses were nothing compared to the riders atop them. Both had light eyes that I could see beneath their helmets and strands of long, blond hair that peeked out as well. But their size...if the horses were larger than normal, these men were nothing in comparison. They were two large dudes, ready for whatever those swords and spears were used for. The one on the right dismounted his horse and started to reach toward me, speaking in a language I did not understand. The one still atop his horse spoke next, but to the first man, not me. I couldn't even assume to know what they spoke of. It was a harsh language. Guttural and low from the back of their throats. Their first one responded to the second, then turned back to me, his eyes kinder now. He spoke again and removed this glove, holding out a bare hand for me to take, but I couldn't. My eyes darted between his face and his hand, not wanting to provoke him.

He spoke a second time and bent closer to my level. I still did nothing and it seemed to click that I couldn't speak his language and he changed tactics. "What about the common tongue? Do you speak that?"

I nodded, his words finally making sense. But that was the wrong thing to do. His companion jumped off of his horse and pulled the first one back from me, switching back to that ugly language. But the kind one didn't like that. He pulled himself from his companion's grasp and turned back to me. "Where do you hail from, liðee?"

"I…" I said, trailing off, not knowing what to say. Clearly, these people wouldn't have heard of my home.

The second man starting talking again, but the first one cut him off this time. "She isn't a Dunlending, Elfhelm. Are you, liðee?"

I didn't know what that meant, so it couldn't have been me. I shook my head as he bent back down to my level. He reached up to his neck and unclasped the cloak from his back. Slowly, he reached around me and draped it over my shoulders. It wasn't warm, not having laid against his metal armor in this whipping wind, but I savored coverage, nonetheless, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrapping it around my freezing limbs. "How long have you been lost in the Mark?" he asked.

The truth was a few hours, but I guess that wouldn't have really made any sense. So, once again, I kept my mouth shut.

I thought he would grow as irritated as his companion, but he didn't. He shifted his weight from one boot to the other and let out a gentle sigh. "Alright, how about names then? This is Grimbon and I am Eothain. Who are you?"

That one I could answer. "Mallory," I muttered in a near whisper, hoping that Grimbon's actions toward me wouldn't reflect the look he gave me now.

But Eothain smiled gently. "Your legs are scratched, Mallory. Where are your skirts?"

Skirts? I hated skirts. I figured out by now that I had landed in some kind of medieval pastime. Maybe I had time-traveled to an ancient European dominion where women covered their legs and ankles were sexy. He noticed my confusion again and Grimbon was losing patience. Eothain closed his eyes and took in a breath, standing and conversing with his companion again in that language. They spoke for a few minutes, Grimbon growing more and more irritated as the conversation continued, but I kept my trap shut. When the conversation was over, Eothain knelt back down to me. "We are a few leagues away from any villages. In these troubled times, Grimbon is weary to trust anyone, but he wonders how you traveled so far with no supplied or even clothes in late February. Winter draws nearer, and a chill is in the air."

"I...can't explain," I said.

"Why not?"

"I don't have the answers."

He raised an eyebrow and turned back to Grimbon, hopefully translating my words, but the way Grimbon's face contorted when Eothain had said his piece, his words were not received well. Grimbon grew frustrated and seemed to be arguing against whatever Eothain had said. But Eothain held up his hands in a pleading motion. Grimbon let out a huff and backed off, grabbing his horse and mounting it.

Eothain turned back to me, crouching down once again. "We are headed to Aldburg, our home, but we are still a day's ride away. You are welcome to accompany my eored and I back to our home."

"Why?" I asked, immediately wanting to take it back. This was the best chance of survival I had been given all day!

"You are in need of help," he said simply, standing and reaching toward me with his ungloved hand. And I took it, feeling his tough callouses there. He lead me to his horse, the chestnut. "This is Arrow," he said, proudly. "And he flies faster than one shot straight from a bow."

I stared blankly at the horse, not knowing what to do. I snuck a peek at Grimbon, who looked annoyed at the time we were taking. I felt Eothain release my hand and I turned back to him. "May I?" he asked, motioning towards my body. He wanted to pick me up and put me on that animal. I must have looked somewhat shocked, because he let out a guffawed laugh at my expression. "He is a beast, I know, but he will not harm you," he said gesturing again with his hands. I nodded and he picked me up from the ground as if I were a feather. He placed me on the front of the saddle facing sideways and I couldn't bring myself to pull my leg over the other side. I was still too cold. He placed his foot in the stirrup and slung himself onto Arrow. I thought the horse might jostle, but it was still and sturdy.

His armor was cold, even through the cloak and he wrapped his arms aground me to grab the reins. "Hold tight to the horn," he said. Luckily, I knew what he meant, and I reached my hand out from under the cloak to grab the saddle's horn in the front. I felt his kick the back of the horse and we were off.

If the chill from his armor wasn't enough, the wind whipped even harder as this horse bolted across the plains. My butt thumped against the saddle hard, and even holding onto the horn, I had trouble not slipping off its sleek surface. Eothain must have been able to tell, though, because he kept his arms close to my body in case I fell. He never touched me, though and for that, I was grateful. This may have been my only option, but the thought hadn't escaped me that I was a small woman and he was a very large man. Whatever self-defense I knew was thrown out the window by my limited ability to move my frozen body and the fact that he was clad in all that armor.

"I'm sorry about Grimbon," Eothain said into my ear over the wind. "He does not speak the common tongue and grows weary of travelers in Rohan."

I assumed the land I was trapped in was called Rohan. What else would he be talking about? I turned to face him for the first time and was startled by how close his face was to mine. He had a rough face, though not unhandsome. There was a scar on his right jaw line that his light-colored beard couldn't hide and he looked tired. The bags under his eyes were thick and the circles dark. There was a layer of grime on his skin from where his helmet did not cover. His eyes were blue and still held that kindness, but up close, I could see a hardness behind them. He grinned, his mouth full of crooked teeth, but they were not unclean. "Mallory is a strange name," he said.

"So is Eothain," I responded. At that, he laughed again, his eyes falling back on the ground. "We will reach my eored in a few short minutes. They will not be happy I brought an outsider back with me." My expression must have given me away again, for he instantly back peddled. "You will be safe, I promise. But I...I may have lied to Grimbon to get him to agree to letting me bring you with us."

"What did you say?"

"He thought you were a Dunlending, but I knew you didn't have the color or the look of the Wild Men. I told him you were from Dale. He conceded to that. But there are others in my eored who speak the common tongue. You won't be able to hide behind language when we get there."

"But...I don't know anything about Dale."

"You hide behind silence and fear well. I will tell them you are worn and weary. That will sway nearly everyone but my Marshal. Hopefully I can convince him to let you be for the night. We will come up with a plan later."

"Why help me?" I asked, again, cursing my mouth.

At that, he showed confusion. "You needed help. Troubling times these may be, but I wouldn't let that stop me from helping a maiden in need."

Ah, I was his damsel in distress. That made a bit more sense. I didn't like it, but I had to admit that I did need his help. Rohan, Dale, Dunlending...I didn't recognize any of these places. Perhaps I had time-traveled. Whatever the case was, this wasn't a prank by my friends and there was no way for me to cover my own ass. I needed someone willing to help me. Luckily I had him.

"Look," he said as we continued riding. "Smoke from my camp. We're nearly there." He was right. In the distance, I could see campfire smoke rising into the sky. The wind whipped it in directions that made it difficult to spot if you didn't know what you were looking for. "Remember, hide behind silence and fear. Sometimes fear can be an asset."

"Do I need to be afraid?" I asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering. "The lads in my eored are loyal to Rohan. They will do whatever they think is necessary to protect the Mark, no matter who is involved. Especially my Marshal. But I will keep you safe, Mallory. I promise."

I turned my head back to the campfire and soon I could see the sight. It was presumably the same group of riders I had run from before. Their horses were tied to spikes in the ground a short distance from the camp. There were probably about two dozen of them all sitting around fires, cots strewn about the site. A single tent stood off to the side of the site. It was made of a green material and I noticed a man walk out of the tent, his head turning straight toward Eothain and I. He was too far away to see his expression. Grimbon propelled his horse forward, passing me and Eothain, but we eventually made it into the camp. Every face turned in my direction. Most of them still wore their armor, but their helmets were all gone now. Every one of them had blond hair, save maybe two who sported light red. They could have all been brothers. They shared this look of a cohesive culture. Some expressions were curious, others angry. I had never had strangers look at me with such ferocity and I instinctively tried to hide behind Eothain's large arms that were still around me.

He dismounted at the horse's grazing area and reached to help me down. I grabbed his forearms and he gently placed me on the ground, but my legs had gone numb. When I dismounted, I realized the saddle pain in my rear end and nearly collapsed onto the ground. He caught me, though, making sure I didn't fall. "Woah there, liðee." He said gently, and helped me get my footing.

Behind Eothain's shoulder, I could see the man from the tent making his way towards us. "Eothain!" he nearly shouted. That was all I could make out as he switched to the foreign language I still did not know the name of. Eothain held gently onto my arms, for which I was grateful as the feeling hadn't come back into my legs yet.

The two argued for a moment before the stranger composed himself and turned his eyes to me for the first time. "Forgive me, you don't speak Rohirric."

I looked at Eothain who nodded and let me go. I wrapped the cloak around myself again, knowing now that my shorts were basically like wearing lingerie to these men. The sun had started setting and the smells of the campfire made their way over to me. I realized that it had been over a day since I had had anything to eat and my eyes jolted to the nearest fire, an iron pot cooking something on top of it. The man followed my gaze and must have noticed what I looked for. "You must be hungry," he said. I nodded. The man took a step closer to me and I was able to get a better look at his face. His beard was thicker than Eothain's and darker. His hair was blond, but a darker shade and fell well past his shoulders, small braids keeping it pulled out of his face. He was dirty, like Eothain and all the other men. His eyes were blue as well, but they were different. While Eothain's held a sense of lightheartedness, his did little to hide his hardness. They were a dark blue. A cavern of mystery. Those eyes surveyed my own face intently and I shrunk behind Eothain, as I realized who he must be. The Marshal Eothain had mentioned. He must have been in charge of this group of warriors. An eored, Eothain had called it. This Marshal was a stranger to me, but I knew one thing: he was not a man you toyed with. The prospect of lying to this man scared me, for I didn't know what he would do if I were caught.

When I shrunk behind Eothain, however, the man backed off and his hard expression changed to one I could not read. "It's alright, Mallory," Eothain said. "This is Eomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

"I'm not going to hurt you, girl," the Marshal said, turning to Eothain. "She can sleep in the tent, but you'll man it for the night." He turned back to me. "We will talk in the morning. Eat, rest, and recover."

Eothain let out a breath as the Marshal walked away and towards one of the fires. "Well, that went better than one could have hoped," he said. "Come, I will walk you to the tent."

I followed him through the camp, past fires and sleeping cots and large blond warriors all the way to the tent at the edge of camp. Eothain lifted the flap. Inside was a brazier of coals heating the area, a large sleeping cot and saddlebags of supplies. "Wait here," Eothain said, closing the flap and leaving me alone. I wanted to protest, but he moved too quick. I walked to the brazier and began warming my hands which had turned white with chill. My legs and arms were perpetually goosebumped and the thought of the warm cot was tantalizing. Eothain was back almost immediately, however. In one hand he held a saddlebag and in the other a bowl of steaming food. He dropped the bad on the floor and handed me the bowl. "Eomer's squire made that. He's not a bad hunter and an even better cook. The heat from the bowl radiated onto my hands and I didn't even wait for a utensil. It was some kind of stew and I began drinking the broth almost instantly. It was bland but warm and I didn't think of much else save the stinging heat. "Woah," Eothain said, reaching forward and pulling the bowl from my face. "Slow down. You will make yourself sick." I had already nearly drained the bowl and my stomach welcomed the broth and the warmth. But I stopped, figuring that compliance would get me further than protest. He backed off and I sipped at the broth instead, watching him reach for the saddlebag. "I have no clothes that will fit you, but I do have a spare pair of trousers we can make work for the ride tomorrow. There are no spare horses in the eored so I assume you will ride with me again."

"What happens when we get to...wherever we're going."

"We are going to my home in Aldburg. I will take to to my sister. She can hopefully help you return to your home. If you ever decide to tell me where that is."

There was no way he'd believe me. "Maybe if I knew where I was, I could tell you how far away it is," I said.

"I have told you, you are in Rohan."

"Where is Rohan?" I asked.

"North of Gondor, the White City. South of Rhovanion, wherein lies Dale, the land I have told my comrades you are from." This explained nothing. I knew nothing of these lands. "You are still baffled?" he asked and I nodded, sitting down in the grassy floor of the tent. "Fear not. My sister knows more of maps and lands than I do. She will be able to help you more than I. For now, we can continue the lie. Eomer will want to question you in the morning. Tell him you are from Dale. Perhaps if you told me how you came to be in the Mark?"

"I don't know," I said, cupping my hand around the bowl. I woke up on the plains. I don't know how I got here."

"No memory at all?" I shook my head. "Very well, then. We will tell this to Eomer. No need to lie if we don't have to." He passed me a bundle of fabric from the saddlebag. Here are the trousers. Get some rest. It will be a long ride tomorrow."

With that, he left me alone again in this strange world.