A/n: I just love putting in author notes. I don't know why. Anyways, this story is halfway book verse, halfway movie verse. The best of both worlds, I should say. Eomer fought at Helm's Deep like he did in the book (rather, he was there fighting the entire time with Aragorn), but the Rohirrim peoples were still hiding in the Caves. No Elves. Ok? Ok.
The damage at Helm's Deep had been far more than expected. The survivors now picked through the rubble, looking for any wounded person that could not speak up for themselves. Eomer was among them, though he was going to ride out in no less than an hour, he still did his part.
The entire wall had been blasted away; it was going to take several months to fix, maybe even years. He sighed inwardly. He had given up hope for a brief second during last night's events, but then he saw Legolas and Gimli. They were fighting someone else's battle, they could easily have stayed home and not worried themselves about the mortal's battles. When he thought about that, something swelled inside him, perhaps pride, and he was anxious to do what he could to repay these two, and hoped returned.
But now the aftermath could be seen, and sadness crashed upon the young man. Bodies were lying all over the place, mangled and dishonored in death by their foes. Orc blood mixed freely with the blood of his kin, turning it brown and filling the air with a putrid smell. Large chunks of wall were here and there, and if he pushed them aside, he saw the bodies of men caught of their guard and had been crushed.
Eomer had walked about noiselessly, as did the other men as they began the long process of cleaning up. He let his long hair fly behind him as he surveyed the area for a brief moment. Then his gaze returned to the ground, and something caught his attention. It was a piece of brown parchment, and, as he picked it up, he saw words were hastily scribbled onto it. The top was smeared in blood, making the words in his own language difficult to read. But he did start to read it, and he soon realized that this was an account of one of the soldiers, most likely just before the fighting started.
***
With every pound of my heart I sink lower. They are coming, I can feel them. The Glittering Caves will offer my wife and children protection. That is what I am placing my hope on. They are the reason I fight. I would not face these monsters if I was all alone in this world, but I will not let their blood be spilt. Not today, not any day.
My son is going with me. He will fight alongside of men, grown men. It tears me up; I would take ten thousand years of torture just to spare him from this fight.
I kissed my wife and daughters one last time, and I cry now, thinking how they will have to live without a father or husband. They are strong though, stronger than I am.
I can see them. Their torches flicker in the distance. My stomach turns. I smile to my son one last time. I love him. He is a mighty child, one that would have been capable of great things. No longer. He will die.
I wish it wasn't like this. I wish we could go home. Curse Grima! Curse that black-tongued snake! I have not the words to describe him, as I should. I wish I could kill him, slit his miserable throat with my blade. I wish he would die.
It is time. I must go. I look at the peaceful stars one last time. I love my wife. I love my children. I love my King.
***
Eomer's eyes were glassy; the memories of small children, no older than eleven or twelve were going to haunt him for a long time. Silently he folded the bloody parchment and stuck it into his pocket. Then he moved on, hoping not to find the body of a child.