A/N – Well, I've gotten varied reviews … most of you loved my fic! So yay to that … one person was quite mean … and I can't say I'm sad that they won't be reading any further … and another … gave me the best criticism I've ever had!

Thank you I.H.N , you've helped me rethink my plot line … I won't be changing anything … well, that's a lie … I changed her name, because it doesn't fit the new plotline … but nothing else I'm changing, so enjoy, I hope I don't get Mary – Sue listed anymore

R and R often!

Chapter 4

Summer yawn softly as she her focused on the scene before her. The fire had snuffed out; leaving only blackened kindling and some grass. She moved her body, finding that it was weighed down. She turned and found Eomer still strewn over her, snoring. She shook her head, and wriggled out from him. She stood slowly and smoothed herself carefully. She tried to take it all in.

I am in Middle Earth. A world made up by JRR Tolkien … this is unreal … I seemingly can speak Elvish. Also unreal. I fell asleep next to Eomer … too much

She needed something to cloud her thoughts. She began to fiddle with the things Eomer had unpacked. She slipped the flint, food, flask, and all other supplies into the saddlebag, save for the blanket Eomer was still asleep on. She then looked over to see Eomer's horse, fully awake, and standing near his master. She smiled to the creature. Summer loved horses, the few times she was able to ride, she hugged on dearly. She stepped closer, holding her hands to show she meant no harm, "Firefoot, that is your name. Isn't it?"

Firefoot seemed to pad his foot against the grass in response. His fur seemed to have ruffled through the night. She thought a moment, and then slid her hands through the saddlebag again, in search of something. She found two things, a grooming brush … and what looked like Rohirrin sugar cubes. She stood slowly, and moved over to Firefoot. He backed up, flaring his nostrils. She shh'd him softly and held out the cubes, trying to sooth the horse. If he was anything like the horses she knew, he may at least let her groom him. She raised the brush to his fur, and felt him startle. She tried to sooth him with her hands, but he was still moving away. She shook her head and softly brought her head against his fur, stroking his back, "Shh, Firefoot. I am not to hurt you. You must trust me …"

Her words seemed to sooth, and he allowed her to bring the brush his fur. She moved slowly, letting him get used to her smell, her presence. She smiled as his head turned to nuzzle against her hair, and Summer let out a small laugh, "Oh Firefoot, you can be such the charmer. Unlike your master … how do you stand him?"

"With quiet dignity, I would imagine," Summer turned herself around quickly, seeing Eomer sitting up from his sleep, now fully awake, "He was never spoken against me … unlike yourself."

He chuckled at his attempt at a joke. She rolled her eyes, "Funny … How long have you been awake?"

He smiled. The first smile she had seen him show, "Only a few moments," he scanned around, "I see you have packed up my things."

Summer shrugged, "Helped me keep busy. Isn't that right, Firefoot?"

She grinned and nuzzled the steed's fur, him braying in response. Eomer stood and began to fold his blanket, "How is it you know my horse's name?"

She grinned, tilting her head so she could see him, "Why, he told me, of course."

Eomer looked at her a moment, "We must be on the move."

He pushed the blanket into his saddlebag, and then walked over to Firefoot, securing it tightly to him, and then his saddle. He turned to Summer, "Come, I will lift you."

He grabbed her around the waist and moved to heave to onto his horse. She thrashed against it, and instead fell to the ground, "I can do this myself!"

She cried upstartedly, jumping to her feet. Eomer put his hands up, "Do not yell."

"I'll yell whenever I bloody well feel like it! Stop treating me as though I am some helpless elf! I'm not an elf! I'm not helpless, and I'm not going to stand for your behavior anymore!!" with each outburst, she stepped further away from him, moving towards the front of Firefoot. He glared at her, and reached to grab her, "Stop this at once!"

She balled up her fists and screamed out, "NO!"

Her last cry caused Firefoot to startle, he leered back and raised his front legs. Summer turned to see only the belly of the now ominous beast, and cried out, trying to jump away from the crash down of his hooves. Summer spun away, but one of the hooves caught her dress, and jerked her back, allowing the second to connect with her face, even just barely. She reeled from the pain, and knew that blood was coming. Her body gave way, and she fell underneath the horse, still being thrashed about by her caught dress. She shielded her face as best she could, trying desperately not to loose consciousness. Eomer came up against Firefoot, and began trying to calm him. He spoke some words Summer would not have understood, if she could have heard them. Firefoot began to slow his leg, and soon, she felt her body stop bashing against the hard ground. Summer sighed softly, but then, could feel blood between her face and her hands. This caused her to begin to shake. She knew she was injured, but not how deeply. Eomer grabbed his horse's leg gently, but held it as he tore her dress from his hoof. He tried to move her, but she was shaking. He made that his horse knew his every move, and slowly bent down, pulling Summer across the ground, and out from danger. Her hands were still clamped against her face, and she was weeping. Soon though, she became still. Eomer thought she had calmed, but found only that she had lost consciousness. He moved her hands from her face and cringed at what he saw. She had blood-covered hands, her face had a small gash across the side of her forhead, but it was deep, and seeping great amounts of blood. He could see that her circlet had been beant into her flesh on that side as well. She was bruised wherever he could see her skin, and around the gash was deep black and purple. He looked around, and grabbed pieces of long grass. Eomer then took the torn remnants of part of her dress and ripped the grass into it. He took great care not to sear any more flesh as he dislodged the metal circlet from her head. The gash and markings left an ironic horseshoe marking on her forehead. He took the fabric bandage and wrapped it around her head, tying it tightly. He picked her up into his arms, and guided her back to Firefoot. Her dress was torn to the knee on one side, and dirty everywhere. Her white robe was smeared with grass stains and dirt, with a great smear of blood. He slipped her onto the horse and pulled himself up, holding her securely, "Come, we must make haste."

He pulled the reigns and his horse took off, galloping.