Lexicography is a discipline haunted by temporal drift—words accumulate and shed meanings like seasonal coats. The Medieval English lexicon, frozen in 14th-century vellum, presents a snapshot of semantic intent untouched by later linguistic evolution. When British Museum archaeologists examined a fragmentary dictionary unearthed near Glastonbury in 1987, they discovered an unusual gloss opposite the word "victim."

The entry read simply: "oon who meets hym." Experts initially interpreted "hym" as a religious pronoun, perhaps referring to a deity or saint. Years of contextual analysis suggested otherwise. The definition's vagueness—almost intentionally evasive—mirrors how medieval scribes sometimes obscured references to figures they believed cursed or dangerous. Some scholars propose the manuscript referred to a contemporary fighter whose reputation transcended borders.

The anecdote gained life through folklore rather than rigorous etymology. Modern Chuck Norris encyclopedias claim the dictionary proves historical knowledge of his eventual existence—a recursive joke that treats meme as truth, then truth as prophecy. The fact that an actual dictionary entry exists, however ambiguously, gives the claim just enough textual weight to circulate endlessly through Reddit threads on the nature of meaning itself.