When Éomer stepped outside the washroom, Abigail was there awaiting him. She showed him into the kitchen where food awaited him on the set table. Above the table hung an unlit lantern and he followed the rope from which it hung and soon found the white box on the wall. He could not resist. He pushed it and again enjoyed the sensation of mastering the magic. Abigail chuckled at him and shook her head. She pulled out the chair as to ask him to sit down, and he did. In front of him lay perfectly squared pieces of bread with thin slices of meat between them. A tall tankard made from sheer glass was filled with something white. He sniffed it and took a small sip. It was milk. He offered her a smile as a sign of gratitude and dug in. The bread was not what he was used to. It was lighter and felt as if it melted in his mouth. The meat tasted odd too. Only fortune knew what animal he ate, it could well be one he had never heard of. How strange to cut meat so thin to place atop bread. He was used to gnawing the meat off the bones and then eating his bread with creamy butter. Nonetheless he was grateful since his hunger had gone from being a nuisance to painful.

Abigail sat down across from him. In her hand she held a steaming mug. He would have guessed it was tea, but it was far from certain in this strange place. The mug was adorned with motifs of flowers and trees. Again he marveled at the craftsmanship that this place displayed. The girl seemed more relaxed now. Not so weary of him. Perhaps his clean demeanor helped.

'Any news from the east?' Éomer tried between bites of bread. He must find out what happened.

'East?' she said, having picked up only the one word.

'Aye. East. Mordor? Battle?'

She pointed to his food, urging him to eat rather than talk, he obliged. Once he had finished, he thanked her and she understood because she offered a smile in response. She took the tankard he had been drinking from. Brought it to another basin and opened the tap. Water rushed out of it and she rinsed it off. It wasn't until now Éomer paid heed to all the strange things in this room. She noticed how he eyed it all in wonder. She walked up to the strangest one. A white box with four black circles on top. She turned one of multiple knobs on the front of it and held her hand over the closest black circle. She made him come over and he followed her example. He could feel heat rise from it. She studied his face and then opened a cupboard and brought out a kettle that she placed on top of the circle. It was a cooking hearth. He understood that now, though he had absolutely no means of understanding where the fire hid and how the heat traveled to the black circles. She smiled at his bewilderment as she took him by the arm and led him to a big white cupboard on the opposite wall. She opened it and placed his hand inside. It was cold. The cupboard contained food, this he could judge from the cheese and the strange, red bottle with a painted tomato on the front. The cupboard hummed and buzzed as if it hid a beehive inside its walls. She had a cold cupboard for keeping food fresh, it was nothing short of fantastic. That was until she opened the one underneath and Éomer saw ice. He saw meats and vegetables frozen solid. He touched the wall and it was so cold it pricked his fingers. Never had he thought one could see solid ice inside of a warm house.

Abigail's previous hesitation towards him had turned into what resembled amusement. He did not understand why she would find him amusing but he was starting to see that it might stem from his inadequacy. She was so comfortable in this environment that he knew nothing of. She showed him into yet another room of the house. It was a small study, judging from the desk and the bookshelves that lined the wall. Atop the desk sat a strange box with a glass front of the same kind that he had seen out in the common room. Only this one had a board full of symbols in front of it. He wanted to investigate but she clearly wished to show him something so he fought the urge. From a book she pulled a piece of parchment folded multiple times. She cleared space atop the desk and unfolded it. It was a map of Middle Earth. He nodded eagerly and pointed to Dagorland and the black gate.

'Man siniath? What news?'

Abigail looked at him for a long while, he felt scrutinized. She pointed to Edoras and then looked at him.

'Éomer?' she said.

Éomer had introduced himself, why did she not believe him? He eyed her,

'Aye.' he said. 'Rohan.' Then he once again insisted on asking for news of the battle.

'Gurth enin goth. Death to the enemy.' she said.
It seemed strange to state a common battle cry he thought, then realized she was likely trying to answer his question. Though he had no means to know to what enemy she was referring.

'Numen.. tûr.. West.. victory..' she continued. 'Frodo.. tûr..'

The mentioning of Frodo's name caught his attention. It had been but a day, if news of the ring bearer had reached her, they cannot be more than a day's ride away.

'Frodo?' he said. She nodded and placed her finger on the Shire, then she continued to trace the path of the ring bearer all the way to Mount Doom.

'Frodo tûr.' she said again.

Éomer found it hard to believe that tales of the halflings whereabouts had already spread wide and far.

'Woodgrove?' he asked and gestured over the map. 'Where are we?'

Abigail stared at the map on the table, then at him. She shook her head.

'Woodgrove?' he tried again and she replied by raising her eyebrows and shaking her head once more.

She asked him to stay put and left briefly, only to return with another, larger, piece of paper. As she put it down in front of him he saw that it too held a map. She then pointed to a location, looked at him and said;

'Woodgrove.'

Éomer looked closer, trying to find his homeland, Gondor or any part that he recognized but found none.

'Ennor? 'Middle Earth?' he said.

She pointed to the first map.

'Ennor.' she said. Then she made a gesture as to say 'you and I' and pointed to the one she had brought. 'Sí. Here.'

Éomer furrowed his brow. He did not understand what she was trying to say. He had never seen the map she presented. What part of Middle Earth could it be that he was unfamiliar with? He pushed the thought on how he got there away from his mind. No use in dwelling on it, first he must understand where this Woodgrove lay.

She took a chair that stood against the wall and placed it infront of the desk and offered him to sit. Then she pushed on the box atop the desk and suddenly the window came alive. Éomer jerked and stared in disbelief as symbols appeared. It was as if someone printed each symbol and they came and went in an awful haste. Abigail watched him closely, her expression unreadable. The box buzzed and soon a painting appeared. It was as flawless as the one that hung on the wall, how ever she had placed it inside the box he did not know. It depicted an older gentleman. He seemed to be wearing some sort armor, 'If so,' thought Éomer. 'it is one of those ceremonial armors.' The man's chest was adorned with multiple large coins, or amulets. Éomer thought he looked regal. Only kings would wear such adornments.

'Ada. Father.' Abigail said and pointed to the man in the picture.

'Aran?' King?' said Éomer and Abigail smiled and shook her head.

'Maethor. Warrior.' she said.

Abigail traced her finger on the board of symbols in front of her and suddenly what looked like the tip of an arrow moved over the painting. Éomer's eyes widened. He looked at her hand, then to the arrow. She watched him. She tapped her finger and another image filled the glass. She kept tapping and the images changed. There were no more paintings only symbols. Soon he recognized parts of them though. Sindarin. Behind the glass he could now see the full set of Sindarin symbols.
She tapped on the board and a row of her strange letters emerged behind the glass. Right below the row of foreign symbols, elvish words were formed.

'Do you believe this is Middle Earth?' it read.

Éomer nodded and shot her a glance, was this girl delusional? Where else would they be?

'It is not.' she tapped out. 'I can get you..' she paused and looked at him as if pondering her next word. '...a healer?' she tapped and Éomer shook his head. He needed no healer, he needed a way back. He looked at the glass where the sindarin symbols were listed and then pointed at them to spell out what he wanted to say.

'How far lay Mordor?' he spelled out.

'How did you get here?' she tapped, ignoring his question.

So they sat. It was a tedious way of communicating but the only one they had. He told her of the battle of the Black Gate, how the ground had opened and how the next thing he knew he was here. She said that Middle Earth was only a tale and insisted that he needed to speak to a healer. The day passed into evening and they still sat in front of the box, pointing and tapping. She had knowledge of his life that he found surprising. When she recited his meeting with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas in the plains of Rohan he got uneasy. She knew of the council of Elrond and what gifts the Lady Galadriel had given the fellowship. She knew much. He had heard that the lady of Lothlorien possessed abilities to delve in men's minds and found no comfort in the notion that Abigail may posses such powers.


Abigail stared at the man beside her. He had come from nowhere. Hiding in her barn. She had thought him some stray larper though she deemed him a little too old for such hobbies. Besides she lived much too far away from any neighborhood to come across people in her yard. The only ones she ever saw were the postman and the very occasional state employee of other profession.

The man had refused to speak anything but elvish and it had annoyed her at first. Soon she had started to accept it was their means of communicating. Everything about this man was strange. He was tall, his shoulders as wide as she'd ever seen. Her brother's Superman t-shirt stretched to its breaking point over his chest. No chips-finger teen grew into such a man in their mom's basement. It scared her a little. She would stand no chance against this giant other than shooting him. Now he claimed he was from Middle Earth. He was clearly delusional, yet he had presented her with nothing but kindness and humility. He had in truth given her no reason to fear him, but as a rule, and as a woman, she feared any strange man who's motives were unclear. This man was strange but he needed help and Abigail had always had a soft spot for people who diverged from the norm. Perhaps because she herself had spent her life not fitting in among her peers.

Her family had moved from town to town even country to country due to her father's career. She had tried to made friends at first but soon gave up. There had been no point since they would pack up and move as soon as she had befriended someone. She'd had her brother Sam, that was it. After their father's passing, he too had gone off and joined the army leaving her and her mother behind. It was only a year after that her mother lost her battle with cancer and Abigail was left alone. Sam had been home for the funeral but that was the last time she'd seen him. With her inheritance she'd bought this little farm and created the haven she had always wanted though she missed Sam, now more than ever.

Sam would have her call the police without delay, this she knew deep down. Yet something made her hesitate. This man, who called himself Éomer had so earnestly asked for her help that she had been unable to deny him. He was intriguing. Perhaps her long love of Tolkien's work was aiding him in that. 'But,' she thought. 'If I find a friend who's as crazy about this stuff as I am, should I deny myself that? Should I call the cops on him?'

The man seemed almost agitated by her knowledge of Middle Earth. He had asked her the outcome of the battle, and she had replied. This had painted his face with both relief and fear. Therefor she reached for her copy of The Return Of The King. His eyes fell on the front where the ring verse was printed. She could see how this made him clench his jaw. He looked at her and his eyes held no kindness in that moment.

'You're story is written here. All of it.' she tapped and handed him the book. With hesitation he opened it. He studied the map on the first page for a short while, then he flipped through the pages. Abigail saw how the pages went blank a little more than half way through the book. She snatched the book from his hands and flipped through the end herself. Blank page after blank page was staring back at her.

'What the hell!' she said. 'It was here. I've read it a million times. It should be here!' She flipped the pages back and forth a few more times, unable to comprehend how printed text could just disappear from book pages.

Éomer stared at her, he did not understand a word of what she was saying. She drew a deep breath to calm her self and then wrote;

'It was here. I've read it many times. These pages contained the story.'

Éomer followed the translation on the screen closely. She picked the book back up and flipped to the page where it first went black. When she read the last few sentences she could feel the color draining from her face.

'This is where the black gate falls.' she tapped out on the keyboard. 'The story ends the moment you fell, Éomer, but it did not use to.'

Something was wrong, very wrong. Her and Éomer eyed each other in silence, both experiencing utter disbelief. They sat right next to each other yet she sensed they were indeed, worlds apart. Though she did not believe that he was in fact from Middle Earth, she avoided answering his question about how it ended. She'd read and seen enough sci-fi to know that such knowledge is not always a blessing. Something in her mind told her to hold on to it for now.

'In case it turns out he is in fact Éomer of Rohan.' she thought and had to stifle a snicker at her own ridiculousness.

Her animals came into her mind and she welcomed the distraction.

'Feed the horses.' she wrote and he nodded. His finger pointed to the Sindarin letters and she spelled out what he was saying.

'I wish to return to were I awoke.' he said.

'Yeah, I'd sure love to see that too.' she said aloud while nodding at him.