Eomer had known physical pain before… But he also knew that the emotional pain was far a greater thing than any sort of physical pain.

He had lost his father and mother at a young age. He had watched countless friends; companions die at the hands of accidents and orcs. He had been in the same room when his cousin Theodred weakly drew in his last breath.

But nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight of his baby sister lying bloodied and broken upon a field of battle.

He threw shield and sword away in his haste to get to his sister… His baby sister…

He had screamed his agony… Not caring who heard… His every thought focused upon his baby sister.

Her face was etched with a terror that pierced Eomer’s heart. Her golden hair was coated here and there with the black blood of orcs and the red blood of her own body.

He had pulled her onto his lap, begging her to be alive.

And then it was then when he searched for help that his gaze landed upon his uncle lying under his horse… Eyes closed.

Lifting up Eowyn, Eomer stumbled to his uncle’s side. But Theoden-King was dead.

Dead.

 Burying his face into Eowyn’s bloodied shoulder, Eomer wept…