[littlemanpoet]

As he rode along with the rest of the party back toward the swamp, Raefindan was having difficulty keeping all the new names straight. The Elvish names were especially difficult. Herb Emblem? No, that was too like a name from his past. Ted Enid? Same problem. He would have to pay more attention the next time their names were used. In fact, all the names here were strange. Nether Door? Sounded more like a place than a name. Leonard? Ardis Leafa? That one actually sounded nice. Bella. Now, there was a name he could understand! And then this other one, Addle Guard? What kind of name was that? He must have it wrong. For that matter, the names of his own friends were unusual. Shouldn't Mellonin by Melanie? Gwyllion ought to be Gwendolyn, shouldn't it? Aeron should be Aaron, and Erundil would serve better as a, well, another Aaron, but with Dill on the end. Such strange names. What a pickle.

He found himself riding next to one of the young men from the Elves' group. His hair was dark blonde and long, and braided in the fashion of some northern people from his own memory's history.

"You are from Rohan?" he asked the other.

"Aye. Edoras. We have traveled from there to Lorien, then through the swamp along the Anduin, then here." He extended his right hand across his body toward Raefindan. "I am Ædegard. I did not catch your name well, friend."

Raefindan shook Ædegard's hand, and he spoke his name again; then his eyes flew open with sudden recognition. "Edgar!"

Ædegard shook his head. "I do not understand."

"Your name would be Edgar where I come from."

Ædegard's brow rose briefly. "Your name sounds like the Elvish."

"That it is, and is not my true name. I do not know my true name. I have lost my memory. The first thing I can remember clearly is standing before the gates of Minas Tirith, some few weeks ago. There I met Mellonin in the city, serving as an innkeeper's helpmaid."

"And I met Mellon in Edoras; though now I have learned that his name is Mellondu. Such a strange business! But you said that my name is known to you, after a fashion. Maybe you are from the north."

"Yes, I am from the north of where I come from, but it is a different place than this."

"It must be far distant, then. There are red headed men among the Rohirrim, but they are rare, usually in the west, near Dunland."

"I am not from there."

Herb Emblem gestured for them to be quiet, for they were entering the swamp, following the trail of those who had taken the women.

For that matter, thought Raefindan, what of the name they've given me? Ray would be a shorter, easier handle. Suddenly, a lightning bolt of memory struck him. Not Ray, but Roy. That's my name: Roy. No wonder Raefindan felt so comfortable, as close as it is. Edwards! Ædegard would recognize it if I changed it just a little, to Ædewards. A second lightning bolt of realization hit him. Ædegard and I are of the same folk! But our speech is different. His is older. How do I know that? He saw himself in a large room, sitting at a chair with a single board at his right, which was attached to the chair. There was a lined sheet of paper on it, and he held a pen over it. I learned it in school!

His horse's hoof sunk into the mire up above its knees, and whinnied desperately. He tugged on the reins and the horse's head yanked to the right, the horse's feet followed, back to the narrow path.

"Raefindan!" Herb Emblem hissed angrily. "Watch the path!"

He nodded. "Sorry!"