In a clearing surrounded by old and ancient trees sits a small group of men; men polishing swords, sharpening knives, mending arrows, and brushing down horses. They are wearing all manner of armor: chain mail, breast plates, and helmets adorned with horse hair. Their horses are exceptional; for a country that is under attack and on the brink of famine, they boast horses that would put the beasts of Gondor to shame. These are warriors out on patrol. They mean to keep their country safe from enemies: spies of Sauron, wargs, orcs, anyone who would bring harm to their people. The only light comes from a large campfire in the center of the clearing, where the days' meager hunt is cooking. This will be their dinner, along with what is left of their rations- which is not much at all. When times are lean, everyone must sacrifice. It has been a quiet patrol, the men have been out riding for about a week and have not seen any excitement, for which they are grateful. They'll be heading home tomorrow.
Just as the riders have finally begun to relax, they hear a clap of thunder, a loud boom and, as if summoned out of thin air, a body falls out of the sky. One of the men stands, he tall and broad, with long straw-colored hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and hazel eyes. It is evident in the way he carries himself that he is the leader of this group. He walks forward cautiously, holding his sword and ready to attack. From the ground the group can hear a low moan and see that a woman is struggling to sit up, she is holding her head and her eyes seem dazed.
"Who are you and what are you doing in Rohan?" the blonde man demands.
The woman jumps; she hadn't realized she wasn't alone. "Shit! Oh my god, I was driving and then this crazy old man dressed like a fucking wizard ran out into the middle of the freeway and I had to swerve to avoid him and I think I hit my head." She spoke in the common tongue, so fast that the men struggled to follow her meaning. Some of the words she said were complete gibberish. They were shocked to hear a woman curse as she did. Before anyone recovered enough from their shock, the woman looked around and seemed to notice the other men- and their clothing- for the first time.
"Could you tell me where I am? Cool costumes by the way, very impressive Cosplay."
"Answer my question," the leader replied in her language, "who are you and what are you doing in Rohan?"
"I just told you, I was in some kind of accident! Can you, like, call an ambulance please?"
"I do not know what an ambulance is, you are speaking nonsense, tell us who you are," he was starting to sound aggravated and waved his sword to show her he meant business.
"Look, I appreciate your commitment to LARPing and any other day I'd totally respect it but dude, my head is bleeding. I'm pretty sure I have a concussion and I'm not entirely positive I didn't hurt my ass from that fall. My name is Emma, I'm from Long Beach, I'm twenty-two years old and I'm pre-med; now, can you PLEASE call an ambulance?"
"I do not understand what you mean by LARPing, nor do I know where this...Long Beach...is, you do not sound or dress like a Gondorian, perhaps you are from Lake-town, they are a strange people."
"Look, this conversation isn't getting us anywhere. Can you just let me borrow your phone and I'll call the ambulance myself? I was on the 405 when I crashed but I don't know how I ended up in this...forest?" At the sight of the man's grimace, and his sword, she continued, "How about you tell me who you are and we'll go from there?"
"I am Eomer, I am the third Marshall of the Mark, you are trespassing on our land."
"Fuck, how hard did I hit my head? Is this a dream? Am I dreaming? Shit, am I in a coma? Wait! Double shit, am I dead? Is this where dead people go when they die? Is this heaven? Or...hell? Look, I swear I was a good person when I was alive...well okay, I was an okay person when I was alive. I'm not sure if I earned the good place, I made a lot of inappropriate jokes and, you know, I was kind of petty and judgmental but honestly everyone has their faults and I never did anything really evil. I never killed anyone or stole or embezzled. If this is the bad place I really don't think I deserve to be here. If I'm dead could you please reconsider and tell...god, or Shiva, or Zeus, or whoever that they should really take another look at my resume and find me a nice medium place to stay like...Kansas or Idaho or something. And please don't run me through with that sword, it looks sharp and big and I think it'll still hurt even if I'm dead because my head hurts like a bitch and so does my ass from when I fell."
"This is not a joke, you are alive and you are in Rohan, what is your purpose here, strange woman?"
"Rohan? Like Middle Earth? Gandalf, Frodo, the hot elves Middle Earth?"
Eomer gave her a small nod, even if he had no idea who Frodo was or how an elf could be hot.
"Well...shit," she said, then promptly fainted.