"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken." - Fyodor Dostoevsky

Chapter 2

Sleep did not come easy for me. The cot, though made of thick, unknown material, did little to shield me from the cold that whipped through the plains of this strange land and I found myself huddling near the brazier, wearing the blanket from the cot around my shoulders. It smelled of hay and horse and musk. I realized that the cot must belong to the Marshal, which made me even more reluctant to sleep in it. The sounds of men outside the tent speaking in their foreign tongue kept me awake long after their talk had quieted down. Eothain did not return. I drifted between sleep and consciousness the whole night.

Dawn eventually began to peek through the floor of the tent and I couldn't sit still any longer. I grabbed the pants Eothain had brought me and pulled them up over my shorts. They were much larger than me, built for his massive size. The legs fell well past my own and the waist was like a small tent. But they were warm and I needed something to cover my legs in the company of these men. I tucked the fabric of the pants legs up so that I could walk and realized that the waist was drawstring. I pulled it tight as I could and tied a bow, tucking the excess string inside the waist. It wasn't fashion, but it was warm. I had kept the cloak on all night and for extra measure, I kept the blanket around my shoulders as well, hoping that the Marshal would not be mad at me for taking it out of the tent.

I opened the flap. Outside, the fires were barely smoking. A few men were awake, guarding the perimeter of the campsite. Eothain was seated beside the entrance of the tent, but he had drifted off and saw snoring softly. I smiled. In sleep, he looked completely harmless and his hard, scarred features were softer. Quietly as I could, I walked away from the tent. I made for a bit of overgrowth down on the plains that I could use to pee. I worried that the men guarding the site might stop me, but the one I passed did nothing. He glanced at me and them resumed his post. I hurried over to the brush and squatted, thanking God that the guards were all facing the other way. I pulled both pairs of pants back up over my butt and sighed with relief, standing to take in my surroundings. To my left, there was more of the hilly plains and to the right was the same, except I could hear the distant sounds of water. It was probably a creek or a river and all I could think about was splashing some water on my grimy face. I glanced back at the camp where the guards still hadn't moved and made my way towards the sounds of water.

It wasn't far. It rushed gently towards the southeast. I knelt down at the base of the river and cupped my hands. It was freezing, but I didn't care. It was clear and cleaner than my face. I splashed it onto my face, sending waves of chill through my skin once again. But the sun was rising and I could already tell it was going to be warmer today than the day before. I bundled up the blanket and cloak around me, closing my eyes and letting the sound of the water calm me. Here in this moment, I could imagine I was back home, on a basic camping trip. It was impossible to do that inside that stranger's tent. I let the sound of the river sway me into a light sleep.

It doesn't last long. I felt a tickling sensation on my cheek and opened my eyes to find the long face of a horse. It startled me half to death and I let out a scream, jumping back, the blanket falling from my shoulders. But my foot gets caught on the cloak trying to stand and I fall to the ground. Urging my heart to calm down, I looked back at the horse. He was dapple-gray and large, like all the rest of these strange horses and he wasn't swayed by my outburst. In fact, he walked toward me, bending down to sniff the top of my head. Gingerly, I reached up and pet his nose. It was soft as velvet. He closed his eyes and seemed to like the touch.

"He likes you," a voice said behind me and I jumped again, this time straight to my feet. But my rise was too fast and I fell towards the river. I braced myself for impact, but it never came. A hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back into a hard body and I instinctively jumped away. It was the Marshal, Eomer, shirtless and his braided hair dripping wet. Droplets of water from his hair fell onto his shoulders and trickled down his form, which was impressive to say the least. Hard muscles and veins protruded from every angle and my eyes lingered too long for a grin soon came to his face. "Forgive me for startling you," he said. "It wasn't my intention."

The horse had made his way over to us and poked his nose at the Marshal. "Calm it, Firefoot," he said, giving his nose a pat before pushing him out of the way. He turned back to me. "He normally doesn't like strangers." I couldn't think of what to say and he just continued to stand there, me staring at his massive form. "Do I frighten you?" he asked.

In truth, everything about my current situation frightened me. Surrounded by large men all carrying medieval weapons and speaking a language I couldn't understand. But did he frighten me? In all honesty, yes, but it was more than fear. He intrigued me more than anything, so I shook my head.

"Then are you ready for me to ask you some questions? Eothain won't like that he isn't here for this, but I can't really concern myself with what he thinks right now. Who are you?"

"Mallory Gilmore," I said forcing myself to look into his eyes instead of his abs, but that was just as intimidating.

"And where do you hail from, Mallory Gilmore?"

"Dale," I said automatically.

Eomer grinned and pointed towards the direction of the rising sun. "That is east. What direction is Dale?" Eothain had told me last night, but I couldn't remember. I broke my gaze with the Marshal and stared at my feet. "Why lie? You are not a danger. One cannot falsify the fear in your eyes, Mallory Gilmore. So what had happened to you?"

"I woke up on the plains. I don't know what happened. I don't remember."

"Than what do you remember?"

I remember everyone out at my cabin. I was having a party to celebrate the end of summer and the end of the camping season. I was getting ready to close down my site, prepping for the fall. I remember downing three shots of tequila before passing out. "I was in my home. Now I am very far away," I said, praying that it would be enough.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "By Bema, you are frustrating." He ran a hand through his braided hair. He wasn't angry, per se, but he exuded a sense of irritation that shook me, nonetheless. "Wait here," he said, walking over to a jumble of rocks further down the length of the river. I watched him grab a shirt off one of the rocks and pull it over his head. He aso grabbed a sword that he bucked to his waist. He walked back over to me when he was done. He reached down and grabbed the blanket-his blanket-and handed it back to me. "Now look," he said as I wrapped it around my shoulders. "I want to help you find your way home. My men don't need a new distraction in Adburg, particularly Eothain. If you intended us harm, I am sure you would have committed it last night. So, you and I are going to have a conversation about how to accomplish that where you answer my questions with more than five syllables, can we both agree to this?"

I nodded and he raised an eyebrow. Now I may have been scared out of my wits by this guy, but that didn't mean I was going to let him talk to me as if I were a five-year-old child. "Yes, Marshal Eomer," I said, but making my annoyance known through my tone.

He seemed surprised and, for a brief moment, I thought his surprise might turn to anger, but it did no such thing. In fact, I swear the corner of his mouth started to grin. "Good. Now, where do you hail from?"

"Charleston," I said, ready to test his patience. "It's a city in the state of South Carolina in the country of the United States of America, positioned in the South East, bordering the states of Georgia and North Carolina and the Atlantic Ocean."

He looked...dumbfounded. "What is this nonsense?" he asked. "I may not be a well-traveled man, but I have studies maps of Middle-earth. These places do not exist in Arda."

"See, that's the thing," I said. "I don't think I'm from...this place. Middle-earth? Arda? Whatever. I'm from the regular Earth. The one with seven continents and five oceans."

He paused before answering. "Is this some kind of sorcery?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You tell me. I woke up about three miles from where Eothain and that other guy found me with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have never heard of your country or your language. So, do you still think you can help me, Eomer?" He looked taken aback and it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"It's just...nothing. We should get you back to the camp. The men will be waking soon. We will head to Adburg then." He started to walk back to the camp, Firefoot trailing behind him but he turned back quickly and said. "Have you spoken of these things to Eothain?"

"Not exactly. Nothing as specific as this."

"Good. Continue to tell him nothing. We will discuss this further when we reach Aldburg." He grinned at me then, giving me another graze with his eyes. "It was the blanket."

"What?"

"Firefoot. He smelled the blanket-the smell of me-on you."

With that, he continued back to the camp. And I followed not long after.

At the edge of the camp, just within sight of the river, Eothain stood, watching Eomer and I trudge up the hill to where he waited. When Eomer was close enough, Eothain spoke in that language, Rohirric, and I don't know what transpired between the two of them, but I could sense the two of them growing tenser with each word. Eothain seemed to grow frustrated while Eomer grew annoyed. Around me, the eored was beginning to pack up the camp, loading bags and supplies onto the backs of their horses which had all been released from their pegs in the ground.

When the argument was finished, Eothain walked over to me, making a noted glance at Eomer's blanket around my shoulders. "We depart soon," he said. "What did the Marshal say to you?"

I wanted to tell him the truth, but the thought of what Eomer had said, to not tell Eothain what we had discussed about my home, had me a little scared. He was a scary man after all and Eothain was not. At least, he wasn't to me. I had no doubts that he could be scary, but I didn't think he would show that side to me.

"He only asked me the same questions you had," I said.

"And what did you tell him?"

He was patronizing me and my thoughts drifted back to my realization from last night. He wanted to be the knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress. I never relied on men before in my life, so it was strange for me to be in a position where that was my only option. I had to rely on Eothain to get me back home, at least for the time being. But if my conversation with Eomer taught me something, it was that these men were the kind of men who valued a strong will over a sense of innocence and naivete. Yesterday, I had been terrified. Today...well, I was still terrified, but I was starting to see the bigger picture and the old Mallory was returning to my soul. "I told him what I needed to," I said.

Eothain did not like this answer. "I told you that you and I would discuss it on the road today."

"And I don't take orders from you," I said. His jaw physically dropped and I could see Eomer behind him, loading the rolled-up cot from inside the tent onto his horse's saddle, watching us. His face now held the same expression that it had when I had fallen into his arms by the river. A look of amusement. I heard a few men who were near us chuckle and Eothain's jaw tightened. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but could not find the words. I reached down and grabbed a saddlebag. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She couldn't have been from Dale. A trip from Dale to Rohan would have required months of travel on a horse and she possessed nothing but the strange clothes on her back. I couldn't even fathom the trip on foot. The distance had be be nearly four thousand leagues. I had met Men from all over Middle-earth living in my uncle's house. Never had I heard a dialect like her's. It was foreign and did not belong to Men of the West or the North.

She had surprised me at first. A woman on the back of Eothain's horse, wearing the cloak off of his back. When the cloak moved with the wind, she wore nothing beneath it by way of skirts or trousers. Her skin was tanned and sun-beaten, but soft and pure of scars and wear. Her hair was brown, but when the sun caught it's glare, tints of red came out from under it's sheen. And her eyes...It would be easy to describe them as green and scared, but it was more than that. I don't think it was fear that coursed through her veins, but rather an alertness. A state at which to watch her every word, make sure she didn't say the wrong things. She was very good at it.

When I questioned her, she struck me at first as an innocent. The way her eyes grazed my form was amusing to say the least, and her initial vexation was tantalizing. Then, something changed in her. She forgot the alertness and the innocence as they escaped her and were replaced by something else. She taunted me with her tone. She answered my questions with words that sounded like riddles. And she called me Eomer...A commoner had never referred to me by my given name. Soon the tantalization of her innocence was replaced by something else...a curiosity. Where these riddle she spoke in fact, not riddles at all, but pure words of truth. I had never heard of the city she had spoken of, nor the country. The fact that she had never heard of the continent she was on now was a dire clue. She didn't lie to me.

Loading my belongings onto Firefoot, I watched her and Eothain argue. I knew he wouldn't be happy with me. I had known Eothain for many years. I would trust him with my life. But in matters the home and women, Eothain thought only with his heart and his cock. He was a man who needed to be a hero. He always had been. He tried to be her hero now and it became all too clear that she wasn't willing to reciprocate.

The men all watched the small argument. She was smart. She said very few words, but they all held an impact of steel that drowned Eothain's arguments. She silenced him with a statement and an offer of assistance and he knew not how to respond. And it amused the men so to watch it. And I am not too proud to admit that it amused me as well.

Her eyes met mine and I held the gaze. She was the one to break it, following Eothain back to his horse and hooking the bag to his saddle. Grimbon walked over to me then, holding his own horse by the reins, ready to ride. "What do you make of her?" he asked.

"I see a woman in need of help," I said, and it was true. As much as she could hold her own against Eothain, she was still lost and far from her home. I didn't know how to help her, but the first step would be to bring her back to Aldburg.

"I see a woman who makes his cock hard. I told you last night what clothes she wore when we found her were very little. I don't blame the lad, but he is careless."

"You think her a threat?"

Grimbon glanced at her, then back to me. "You don't?"

"She is a mystery, I'll not deny it."

Grimbon let out a chuckle. "A lady-puzzle you finally hold no solution for? What a day this is."

"Enough," I said, pulling my breastplate over my head and tightening the straps. "The day grows shorter. We must ride if we are to make it to Aldburg by nightfall."

He clapped my shoulder before mounting his horse, calling for the men to mount with him and ride. I saw Eothain offer a hand to Mallory to help her mount his horse, but she ignored him, stuck her foot in the stirrup and grabbed the horn of the saddle, pulling herself up and swinging a leg over. She still wore the blanket from my cot around her shoulders.

Eothain mounted behind her, reaching around her body for the reins. I squinted, watching him. Wondering if his hands would touch something that didn't belong to him. If his eyes would linger in one unforgivable place for too long.

"My lord," Grimbon said, pulling me out from my wondering mind. "The day grows short, does it not?"

I nodded, mounting Firefoot and calling out to the eored. "Forth, Eorlingas!"