New York

Even though doubt had gripped me on the way to Helm's Deep, I felt my heart beating wildly as I walked through the Hornburg behind the contact Gimli had mustered. The woman did not live directly in the fortress, but in the settlement that had formed outside in recent years. She had stayed, as we had been told by the man who now led us to her, after much of her family and she herself had survived the Battle of Helm's Deep.

When we arrived in front of the shabby hut, I had to swallow. Hopefully this wasn't just a poor woman from Rohan trying to earn a few extra silver coins. I exchanged a glance with Gimli, who seemed to have something similar on his mind. Then we entered.

The man had knocked, and as we now stood in the semi-darkness of the hut, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness. It was not particularly crowded: A stove stood at the far end, with a dining table and a large closet in front of it. A door led into the only other room, presumably the bedroom. A few baskets and boxes were stacked in the entryway. A spinning wheel including a stool stood next to it.

I felt Legolas and Gimli behind me and was glad that they had both come. At first I had thought about going alone, but Legolas had quickly put a stop to that. And it had been the right decision.

"So this is the girl?" a voice asked. It belonged to an old woman who had gotten up the moment we had entered the hut. She had been sitting at the dining table. Her clothes were simple, but clean. So was the rest of the hut.

"That's her," said the man who had led us here.

"I would like to speak with her alone."

Legolas stepped up beside me. "I don't think that's a good idea…"

"I only agreed to this arrangement because King Eomer asked me to do so. I know none of you, and I only agreed to speak with the girl."

Gimli and Legolas glanced at each other, then looked at me. I shrugged. "If that is her wish."

The elf didn't seem too thrilled, but after one last look at me, all three men left the hut. Only the old woman and I remained inside. For a heartbeat, neither of us said anything until she pointed to the chair next to her. "Do you want to sit down, girl?"

I shook my head. "Nay, I'd rather stand."

"Well," she tilted her head slightly, "then keep standing."

Silence fell over us as we eyed each other. The old woman didn't seem particularly happy about my visit. Something that made me feel strangely reassured. She didn't seem like someone who was making up what I wanted to hear for the prospect of money.

"Tell me," she said finally, "why should I trust anyone who travels with strangers – nobility has never done us any good here in Helm's Deep."

I preferred to leave that uncommented, after all, I knew all too well the distrust of the common people of Minas Tirith towards nobles - and that's what Legolas and Gimli were. "Your king has asked you to do so," I said instead.

"That request has brought you to my home, but it will not get you much further. What do you want from me?" By now she had her arms folded in front of her chest, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she asked me to leave. So I did the only thing that would get me anywhere. "I want to talk to you about our past, which is in the future now," I said in English. If the old woman was from my time, she would recognize the language. Even though she might not speak it - who knew where she came from - she would know it.

The woman's eyes widened for a moment and I knew I had hit the mark. My chest felt like it was constricted as the realization slowly seeped into my brain: I was facing someone who not only knew how I felt. No. She had been through the exact same thing I had. Our stories had to be similar. When she finally answered, still in Westron, her voice sounded breathy: "I haven't heard that language in a very long time."

"But you have heard it before," I said so quietly that I feared she hadn't understood me.

"I have," she now replied in English. It had a strange accent. It sounded a bit like Westron had rubbed off on her pronunciation.

"When were you born?" My voice wobbled.

"1952 in New York," she whispered, "You?"

"1989 in Berlin."

We both had to collect ourselves for a few minutes. I saw quite clearly that the old woman's initial distrust had given way to an emotion I was feeling just as much at that moment. She was the first living testimony of my world, of my time, that I encountered. If I felt touched after only four years, how did she have to feel? She had been trapped in Middle Earth for decades longer. Had lived her life in a world that was not her own. How did it feel to suddenly come face to face with a past she thought was lost?

"I've never met anyone from my time in all these years," she said, visibly shook. "Sometimes it has felt like a dream I woke up from too soon, rather than the other way around." How well I could relate!

"How old were you when you fell to Middle Earth?"

"I was nineteen."

Again I had to swallow. She had been half a child when she had disappeared in the early seventies. Nor had she had the same technological capabilities that I had. Cell phones didn't exist at that time. Photos were probably the only thing that had reminded her of home, and after numerous orc attacks and the Ring War - how much of that was left? "I'm so sorry," I said.

"Don't be, dear," she said with a faint smile. "I've accepted my fate. It was meant to be."

I raised my head. "How can you be so sure? How did you get here?"

The woman ran her hand over her face. "I... I was grieving in front of my father's grave," she said, and I heard the memory of an almost buried event slowly drift back to the surface. "All at once, I noticed a piece of stone. It was just lying on top of his headstone." She paused for a moment, her gaze fixed on the wall. But in fact, she must have been seeing her father's grave in her mind's eye. "It's been a lifetime, but I remember all of it to this day: when I reached for the stone, he was suddenly standing there." She shook her head. "He waved me over, and I... I followed him. Of course."

"Of course," I whispered. It was almost like what I was experiencing. Except I hadn't known the strange woman from the temple.

"When I grabbed his hand, I felt a jolt - like someone had pushed me in between my shoulder blades - and then... then a wide expanse of grass surrounded me. The Ostfold, as I now know."

"You never found a way back, did you?"

"No." She nodded her chin toward the door. "But I never had the support of two princes and a king, either."

I bit my lip. "It just... turned out that way." I hesitated briefly before asking, "You traveled here with a stone. So did I. Do you still have it?"

Again she nodded, then reached into her apron. "While the messenger from King Eomer was very vague, I figured it was about my origins," she said.

When she opened her hand, I stared at the piece of stone that was in her palm. It looked exactly like mine. Only the breaking edges were different.

My thoughts were racing.

What if the stones weren't just there when we had made our time jumps, but were to blame for them? This couldn't be a coincidence! I hurriedly reached for the pouch that I had tied under my skirt so that no one would see it. From it I pulled out the stone that seemed to have triggered my journey to Middle Earth. "See?", I asked excitedly. "They are almost the same. May I?" She willingly handed me her piece. I took it and placed it against mine.

They were a perfect fit.

Except the stone still wasn't whole.

"It's like they belong together," I whispered.

"They do," said the old woman, who had now leaned forward as well. "I will give you my stone, if you wish to take it. I no longer need it. It is the last reminder of something that, after all these years, seems like nothing more than a dream to me."

Frowning, I raised my head. "Don't you want to keep it? And... and if I find a way back, come with me?"

A slight smile played around her lips. "Oh, no," she said softly. "I've lived my life, dear. That's a job I'll leave to the young ones. What would my grandchildren think if I suddenly disappeared? Into a world I would no longer recognize by now? But you are always welcome here."

She was right. But there was so much finality in her words. That made me sad.

"But I wish you all the best in your quest. If I were as young as you again, I would probably do the same. I just wished I could have seen my city one more time so I could say goodbye." She smiled again, this time just as sadly as I felt. "But I don't suppose a young woman from Berlin has a photograph from New York hidden in her skirts?"

At first I was going to deny it, until I remembered my cell phone. How had I forgotten about it? Of course, it was in my power to fulfill the old woman's wish. So I pulled the device out of my pocket and briefly explained to her what it was doing. Then I turned it on and scrolled through my picture library until I found my last New York vacation. I had ridden the Staten Island Ferry and photographed the NYC skyline out from the water. It had been a cold winter day and Manhattan had glistened under the frost like a promise.

When I showed her the photo, she put a hand over her mouth. Her gaze roamed over the screen as if the memory she had kept in her heart for so long, that had almost faded, had come alive again all at once. "Thank you so much," she murmured. She had unconsciously switched back to Westron. As she had said: she had lived her life here in Middle Earth and the city on the screen was part of her past for a long time now.

I put the cell phone and the stone pieces away and hugged the old woman, who embraced me closely. Then I turned and walked toward the exit of the hut, fighting the narrowness in my throat.

Just as I reached out for the door, she said, "Don't get lost, girl."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always believed that there was a deeper meaning to all of this. What if none of it was a coincidence? Maybe you're exactly where you're supposed to be."

Yes, perhaps.

But maybe it was just a twist of fate and I had finally found the key to my homecoming.