Eowyn stood on the platform, trying to imagine where her brother would be by now. Her white dress fluttered in the wind and her golden hair whipped about her face. A tear made its way down her cheek. Eomer had done everything possible to reveal Grima's treachery, but even the guards were on the evil man's side. Eomer was banished, and if he ever returned, he would be killed. Grima had seen to that. Now that Theodred was dead there was no trustworthy person to talk to, except for Hama and Gamling, the door wardens, but they only saw her as a young girl who knew nothing of politics or war. A sob rose in her throat as she thought of the still, pale form of her cousin lying on the low bed in that cold room. The sob escaped with a low moan when she remembered how her uncle had shown no reaction to the news that his son was dead. She walked back inside struggling to maintain her composure, but utterly failing. She gently opened the door and knelt next to her cousin's body, stroking his hands and fervently wishing for him to suddenly sit up and tell her everything would be fine. She heard the footsteps coming down the hall following her and she shuddered. Grima.
