On the second day of the journey, the sun shone warmly on the fields and Éomer leaned his head back and enjoyed the fresh air, far from the matters of state that awaited him at home. He thought back to the days when he was merely a rider, a soldier with one simple task: fight the enemies of Rohan. There were no law books to read or rules of etiquette to follow, just the simple laws of survival on the plains of Rohan. It was a difficult, dangerous life, but Éomer found that he missed it. Some aspects of it, at least.

Though Éomer had left behind his days as a soldier, he found that the memories of battle were harder to shake off. His dreams were a swirling mist of confusion and terror. Over and over his mind replayed moments of horror and fear, though the line between reality and fiction were blurred. Some nights he would find himself on the battlefield. The clash of arms and the cry of the wounded would fade and Éomer would stop, the tip of his sword coming to rest on the bloody ground. He knew when each of the soldiers beside him would be killed. He looked from man to man an instant before each was struck, as though it was his own glance that signaled their deaths. Often, friends who had survived the battle were killed in Éomer's nightmares and he would wake in a panic, no longer sure of the truth. Sometimes in his dreams Éomer would turn over body after body, and all would bear his own face. Other times he dreamt that the men under his command who had been killed stood around his bed, silently watching, cold eyes filled with accusation. He also dreamt that he could see his sister battling the Witch King. Each time, he would try to run to her aid only to find that he could not move; try to cry out to her only to find that he had no voice. And each time she would be struck dead by her foe as Éomer stood helpless. Though the dream was familiar, he still woke up frightened every time. Night after night Éomer walked the battlefields that had carved their names into his heart with a knife. Only now Éomer feared that his sister was also a captive of such memories and again he felt powerless to help her.

"Éomer King," said one of his men, waking him from his reverie, "a rider approaches from the South." A single man on horseback could be seen in the distance, coming from the direction of Gondor. As the man approached, Éomer ordered his riders to halt. The courier did so as well, his horse breathing heavily.

"I bear a letter for the Lady Éowyn, Éomer King," the courier said, bowing his head.

"Very well. That will be the response from Gondor we have been waiting for," the King replied. Surely his sister would not mind if he read the contents, as he had no desire to wait so long to find out if King Aragorn would aid the people of Rohan in their need. Éomer took the letter from the courier, who looked surprised but made no argument, not wanting go against the will of his King. Éomer opened the letter, but did not notice that the symbol on the seal, a single star, belonged to the Steward of Gondor and not the King.

My Dearest Éowyn,
Forgive me, but I do not know how to reply to your letter.
My heart is shattered, and I do not know if I can go on,
knowing that you will not return to be my bride. Who am I,
to come between you and your people? But you do not need
to ask my forgiveness. I, too, understand the sacrifices
that must be made for the sake of duty and so I could
never, for one moment, blame you.
You said that you cannot ask me to wait for you, but I will
be here, Éowyn, waiting for you, though each day feel like
an age of men I will be here still, should ever you feel
that you can return to me. Even should you remain in Rohan
forever, still I shall wait, and so grow old and die
dreaming of you.
I have never felt happiness like I felt when I was with
you, and longing like I feel every second that I am not at
your side. If we cannot be together in life, do not doubt
that we will find each other in whatever lies beyond.
You have all my love forever,
Faramir

Éomer finished the letter and let his hand fall into his lap. Finally all the pieces fit together. Éowyn had set aside happiness for herself so that she could serve her people and help her brother find his way. A rush of emotions overcame Éomer. He felt ashamed that he could not lead his people without help. Amazed by his sister's willingness to sacrifice herself once again. Éomer turned his horse around, for he felt the need to return to his sister and tell her that he at last understood. But who was this Faramir, prince or not, to pursue his sister without his consent? Éomer turned his horse towards Gondor again. Éomer's anger quickly died away, as he realized that his sister's happiness now relied on her being in Gondor, far away from him and their homeland. Éomer did not want to be parted from his sister, but he also knew that he could not watch as she sank into despair and unhappiness. For a third time Éomer started to turn around, but then he realized what had to be done. He spurred his horse and called for his men to continue their ride to Gondor, leaving the courier alone in the road without his letter to deliver.