The night passed without Éomer having to bury another orc. In truth it concerned him. He wished they would all show themselves so he can slay them and be done with it. He had vowed to stay here until he had annihilated any threat, a vow he was bound to keep. As the first sun rays reached over the horizon, he saw no movement from within the house. Abigail was still sleeping. Éomer did not want to disturb her, she needed her rest, even though day started with sunrise.

Instead of going inside, he made it for the stables once he'd put out the fire. He took off his armor and left it by the door to make it easier to work. He bid the horses a good morning, grabbed a brush then stepped into the mare's stall. He took his time with cleaning the dust of her body. He enjoyed the smell of the animal's warm skin and the lazy way she hung her head and relaxed told him that she enjoyed it too. He ran his hand down the mares leg, letting his fingertips examine every part of it for strains or parasites. Then he picked up her hoof. With his dagger he dug out the mud and dirt that she had trampled into it. So he proceeded with the rest of her before moving on to the gelding that was growing impatient. After he had made sure the horses were clean and well, he let them out into the enclosed pasture that lay behind the barn. The stable door he left open so he could keep an ear on them. Orcs were perhaps not all that active in the sunlight, but who know when they last found something to eat. Abigail's horses would not become and orc's meal on his watch.

The morning was growing warm as the sun rose, sweat trickled down his back as he carried loads of hay out to the pasture. He pulled his tunic over his head and hung it on one of the pasture posts before grabbing the shovel and entering the pasture to spread the horse dung out to lessen the attraction of insects. He took pleasure in the physical labor and time slipped away from him.

He did not stop until hunger penetrated his mind. He brought the horses back inside before returning to the house. He walked in, wiping his forehead dry with the tunic in his hand. Abigail who just stepped out of the kitchen froze when she saw him. Her eyes trailed down and then up again. He followed her gaze and noticed that his body was dirty from the work he had done. He tossed his tunic over the armrest of the sitting bench and then gestured over his dirty arms and pointed to the washroom with an excusing smile. Abigail only stared at him and gave an almost invisible nod. Éomer looked over his shoulder as he closed the door to the washroom and noticed her gaze was still upon him. He must have offended her senses with his filthy demeanor he thought, and was glad at how easy and comfortable one could wash in this place.

Clean and refreshed he returned to the common room and Abigail. Her eyes darted around the room and she fidgeted a piece of parchment in her hand. He raised his eyebrows at her as to ask what bothered her and her gaze fell to the floor and with a blush she stepped up and handed him the piece of parchment. Éomer put it aside while pulled his tunic on then unfolded the note.

She had written in elvish,

'Going to the market. You stay. I will travel in a carriage you have never seen. Don't be alarmed.'

She was right in that he had not seen any carriage at all at her farm. She grabbed hold of a bright colored leather bag and swung it around her shoulder. From a bowl atop the drawer she took a key and with that she was out the door. Some few minutes later Éomer heard a roar from the yard. He ran outside only to see Abigail roll down the road in a strange looking carriage indeed.

'Don't be alarmed.' she'd said. Éomer stared after odd, roaring steel box she traveled in and decided to trust her.


Before heading into the store, Abigail pulled out her cellphone and checked her messages. There were none. Really the only person ever sending her any was her brother and she had hoped to find one. It had been over a week since he'd last gotten in touch. She'd been careful to use her phone around Éomer, just like she had resisted turning on the TV. She had also avoided the car but she was almost out of milk and bread by now. He had seemed so overwhelmed by things like a light switch, the stove and a bic lighter that she did not want to confuse him further.

She had thought about bringing him but had asked him to stay for the same reason. She was afraid he would be too overwhelmed, perhaps even causing people to react to him and if there was one thing she wished to avoid right now, it was questions. Then he had walked in on her. Shirtless and sheathed with sweat. Abigail's cheeks flushed at the memory of his hairy, muscular chest. Never in her life had she reacted so to a man. The sight of him felt like a punch in her stomach, it was all she could do not to flat out gape at him and he had stood there like he was completely unaware of the affect he had on her. She drew a deep breath as to erase any thought of a shirtless Éomer from her mind.

She walked around the store filling up her cart with food she thought they'd both like. She couldn't very well feed him cereal. Or at least she didn't think so so there were lots of meats and vegetables, and bread. He seemed to like bread with a thick layer of butter.

'Abigail!' the loud female voice made her look up from the freezer. It was Mrs Pesky. Or Palleschi. But Abigail had always called her Mrs Pesky in secret.

'How good to see you dear. How are you?'

The woman was beautiful, in an ostentatious way. Not yet forty she was always dressed in animal prints with jewelry that would put Mr T to shame. The woman didn't wait for Abigail to reply before she continued.

'Holly has been asking to go to the stables. You must tell me when you are able to have us over again?'

Holly, the woman's daughter came by for riding lessons about once every two weeks. Abigail had agreed simply because it gave her some extra and well needed cash.

'Well I am kind of preoccupied..' Abigail said.

'What of next week? Monday? Would Monday be good?'

Abigail's mind was racing, trying to come up with a good excuse.

'Splendid.' Mrs Pesky said. 'See you then dear!' and with that she was off, leaving Abigail flustered in the frozen food aisle.

'People are so insistent. Don't they care if they're a bother?' she thought as her hand clenched the handle of the cart.

As she drove up to the house, Éomer was sitting on the front steps awaiting her. As he lay eyes on the car he rose and came to greet her. She could tell he had showered while she was away cause his locks hung wet around his shoulders and he was once again dressed in the Adidas pants and Superman-t that she had loaned him and washed since he wore them last. They looked odd on him now she thought. After seeing him in his armor, nothing else really suited him. It was as if he was born to wear armor, not sportswear. He stopped at a safe distance away from the car, obviously wary of it and she parked it in front of the garage. He was there as soon as she stepped out, more comfortable now when the engine wasn't running. He peered into the car. He looked at the wheel, the pedals. She could she his mind working without being able to put the pieces together. She opened the trunk and started bringing the bags out. Soon he abandoned the inside of the car and came to take the bags away from her. He took them all, leaving her to carry only the keys in her hand.

Inside on the kitchen table she saw her childhood photo album laying open. After she had packed away the groceries, with some help from Éomer, though he mostly turned the things over in his hand, she walked over and ran her hand along the well thumbed pages of the album. Éomer looked at her, his face conveying uncertainty. She smiled at him, she did not mind that he had looked at her pictures. He pointed to a photograph where she was sitting in her fathers lap. She was five years old wearing her hair in pig tales. Her mother had taken it on their back porch during a 4th of July barbecue.

'That's me.' she said and pointed to herself. Éomer smiled, she guessed she had confirmed his suspicion.

'Oh, I know.' she said and ushered him along to the study. She dug around the desk until she found what she was looking for. She still had her father's old Polaroid camera and to her knowledge it still held film. With a firm grip on the camera, she got up close to Éomer and pointed for him to look to the lens, he was confused but obeyed. She snapped the picture and the camera spit out a blank paper that she snagged and waved about to make it dry faster. Éomer looked as he understood very little of what was going on.

Soon the outlines of the two of them became visible. She laid it on the desk and Éomer stared at it. She had to slap his hand away when he tried to touch it, it wasn't dry yet. Éomer stared at the photo as the picture emerged. His eyes grew wider by the second.

'Not too bad.' Abigail thought when she saw the result. She wasn't usually that photogenic but in this picture, she looked like herself, her smile was actually quite pretty.

Once the photo had dried she handed it to Éomer. His eyebrows rose and he pointed to himself as if to say 'For me?' She nodded and smiled while insisting he kept the photo.