Summary: Aragorn grieves the Loss of Eowyn. Eomer finds out that she is gone. Rated K+ by Savannah

Year 10

What seemed like hours passed, Aragorn still clutching to Eowyn's body, trying desperately to hold onto her spirit. Finally, he lowered her slowly, every inch of letting her go felt like miles to separation that he would never recover. His heart clenched, looking down at her peaceful face. His hand flew to chest, it was so painful that he thought for a moment that he might join her yet. But his two children asleep in the next room were the tether holding him to this world, he would not leave them alone the way he had been alone. He saw their faces, the fear and the pleading in their eyes. They were so young, he thought to himself, small enough that their mother was still their whole world.

Aragorn looked down at her body, still sticky with dried blood; her dress was still cut open, her body a map of bandages. His children would want to say goodbye before she was put in the earth. The thought alone of the mounds outside the city, of cold dark earth touching her perfect skin had bile rushing up Aragorn's throat. The world was spinning around him. He slipped off the edge of the bed, falling to his knees on the thick carpets. He couldn't take his eyes off the pile of used cloth beside him, blood soaking through the white fabric. But worse was on the other side, on the nightstand beside her bed, a pile of cloth that was clean, the pile that hadn't been needed after her heard had stopped pumping. He looked to the bed, eye level with her delicate hand. Her skin was stained from nails to wrists, as if her hand had been in a dish of blood. He swallowed, imagining that hand pressed to her middle as the blood seeped through her fingers. He could almost feel her fingers on his skin, her touch that had both calmed him and lit him on fire. He felt his heart drop into his stomach at the thought of her fingers never moving again.

He would take care of her one last time, Aragorn thought to himself as he stood and dipped a clean cloth into the jug of water beside him. He took her hand in his lap, slowly cleaning away the blood. He had worshipped her body in life, now he would do what he could to honor it in death. That, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else's hands on her skin. He belonged to her, heart, mind and soul, and she to him. No one else would come near, no one could take her form him before he had let go. And he wasn't ready to let go, he felt like a rock in a current, the river rushing around him, daring him to loosen his grip.

As he worked, Aragorn could almost hear the roaring in his ears. He turned her hand over, looking at the gash in her palm for an explanation. "How did this happen?" he said out loud, stroking his thumb over her skin, his voice startling even to his own ears. As he ran the cloth over the calluses on the pads of Eowyn's fingers, he repeated the words and realized he wasn't just speaking about her hands. The day behind him felt like a horrible nightmare and he closed his eyes, praying for a second to wake up and find her asleep beside him, but he knew deep down that would never happen again.

Pressing his lips to Eowyn's limp fingers, Aragorn laid them down gently on the mattress and began on her other hand. His heart clenched as the cloth cleaned around the simple gold band on her finger. It felt like lifetimes ago that she had stood in front of him smiling, white flowers sprinkled through her hair when he had slipped the ring onto her finger. He looked down at his own hand and remembered how she had smiled through tears of joy as she placed it on him, binding him to her forever. She had held his heart locked safe inside her for years before then, but standing together that day before their family, friends and the gods. Aragorn had let go of the key. He felt his heart beating on inside him now, strong and defiant, but he knew some part of himself was inside the cage of Eowyn's body ad it died along with her.

Aragorn let the blood-soaked cloth fall to the floor and he reached for another one. Starting at her neck, he cleaned the blood and dirt, revealing small bruises in a hand print. He closed his eyes, anger washing over him at the thought of the Orc's hand, crushing her windpipe so hard to leave marks so instantaneously. He wished he could wipe those marks away as well. He thought of all the thousand times he had kissed her neck, nuzzled his face into the warm soft skin. He heard her laughs and her moans in his mind and he swore to never forget those sounds, they were dearer to him than the sound of his won breathing. Down her chest he worked his hand, moving slow and gentle in reverie, as a priest would handle a holy artifact.

He stopped when he reached her stomach, trying to breathe as new sobs tore through him. He placed his hand on her cold skin, letting his fingers splay out over her middle and remembered when it had grown round with child. He remembered feeling his children move and kick inside her and had felt more joy than he thought was possible, had been giddy and drunk on it.

Finally, Aragorn moved to her face. His fingers laced into the hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her head. He lifted her up slightly to slip a basin under her head, he slowly poured water over the side of her head, where blood had matted her hair. The blood rinsed away to reveal her golden hair. He remembered the first time he had seen her standing alone in the forest clearing, the afternoon sun filtering down on her. She had turned to face him, that long glorious hair whipping around her small body. He had wanted in that second to run his fingers through it, and everyday since then he couldn't help himself. He would run his hand over the back of her head, or brush the small curls away from her face, tangle his fingers in its lengths to hold fistfuls of it. Aragorn placed the jug down again and ran his hand over, squeezing the water out.

Aragorn took a moment to run his thumb over Eowyn's temple, carefully avoiding the long gash on her cheekbone. He had never hated anything more than that cut and the monster that had done it. He wished he could go back and find that Orc, take the blade that had hurt her and make him scream. He would start slowly with the hand that had done that to his wife's face, her beautiful perfect face. He held her head in his hand, looking down at her for e moment, savoring the weight of it in his hand.

Finally, Aragorn moved the basin out from under her and pulled the pillow from his side of the bed, laying her down on it. He moved the cloth over her soft cheeks, taking in the sprinkling of freckles over her nose, he smiled to himself, stroking his fingers over them. He let the final cloth drop into the pile without watching it fall, unable to tear his eyes away from Eowyn. Slowly, his eyes drifted over her body, following every curve. What felt like years and years ago, he had lain on top of her body; feeling her warmth seeping into him, her breath soothing him to sleep, her skin like velvet on his. Now it was lifeless before him, broke and bruised.

Slowly Aragorn stood and walked to the closet, pulling open the door he reached in, touching the soft fabric of her dresses. Her smell wafted into the room, warm and familiar, a relief from the smell of blood filling the room. Aragorn took a step closer, pulling the fabric up to his face and breathing in her scent, sunlight and fresh air. He reached in and pulled out a simple white gown, gold embroidery trailing over its neckline and down the close-cut sleeves. It reminded him of what she had worn the day when what was left of the Fellowship had arrived in Edoras, when he had held her in his arms after their months of separation and she had told him she could not live without him.

Aragorn lay the dress over the edge of the bed and sat down at the foot. Slowly, he peeled the blood-stained boots away from her feet, he let his fingers linger on her skin. "I have loved your feet because they always brought you to me," he thought to himself. Then he moved back to the side of the bed and began to cut what was left of the dress she had been wearing away from her. Taking her lifeless arms, he slid them from the sleeves. He let the blood-soaked tatters fall away, landing in piles on the floor. Eowyn lay before him, her chest bare with her arms down by her sides, only the tight leather of the riding pants she always wore covered her muscled legs. Never before had her body seemed so vulnerable to him, she had stood and laid naked with him so many times and he basked in the glow of her bare skin. But now that her fiery light had gone out, he felt the need to cover her to protect her body somehow in a way he had never felt before.

He reached for the gown behind him and ripped out all the strings at its back. He lifted the opening slowly and gently through her outstretched legs, then pulled the skirts under her hips. Ever so gently, he lifted her arms and thread them into the sleeves, pulling the dress up onto her slim shoulders. He tucked the open flaps at the back underneath her, his heart jolting at the warmth of her body trapped by the bed underneath her. He let his hands linger there for a moment, feeling the last of her warmth like sunshine on his face. Gently, he touched her soft hair, letting a groan escape his lips at its silken texture over his calloused hands. Bringing it forward he laid her hair over her breast in a golden waterfall over her shoulder.

Lastly, Aragorn lifted each hand, one at a time to his lips, pressing them to her palms, then her fingers, and lastly their back to his lips, saying goodbye to her touch without words. Carefully, he laid them down on her stomach. He brushed his fingers over her cheek once, her head turned ever so slightly towards him on the pillow, then bent to place a final kiss on her forehead, the last time his lips would ever touch her.

Tears stung Aragorn's eyes after hours of crying as he stumbled backwards away from her body. He felt as if he were falling through time and space itself, into oblivion. He landed on the carpet and realized he actually had been falling. He looked at his wife, at a glance one could almost thing she was asleep on her bed. Aragorn closed his eyes and pictured the way she slept, sprawled on her stomach, taking up most of the bed and he smiled. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, picturing Arwen and Legolas holding her soul in their arms. "Take care of her," he breathed. "Until I can again."

..::..

Eowyn felt darkness overtake her and the weight going out from her body. She thought for a moment that she felt rain on her face and saw her blood drain away from her in the water, but then everything faded away.

..::..

Arwen sat alone, digging her toes into the sand, watching the storm blow in over the horizon. She had the dreamy feeling of one of her visions. She looked up at the sky, the rain sprinkling over her face; she closed her eyes and let the water touch her cheeks. She knew why she was here, deep inside the sadness weighed down on her chest like a stone. She opened her eyes again and stood, feeling the pull towards the water. She followed the pull, walking into the cool water slowly until she stood waist deep. She closed her eyes again, feeling the waves wash past her, tipping her face up to the sky. When she opened her eyes again she sighed and turned back to the shore, maybe she had been wrong to come to this place. But as her eyes fixed on the shore, she saw something just at the water's edge.

"Eowyn," she breathed and started for the shore. Eowyn lay in a crumpled heap, the soft white crests of the waves brushing over her like gentle loving arms. Her long hair was caught in the current, moving in the shallow water. Arwen fell to her knees in front of the woman she had called her dearest friend, she touched her hair and felt the cool skin. Her white dress was open over her middle, bandages blooming in blood covering her skin. Arwen tipped her face back and saw the long cut over her face. Tears sprang into Arwen's eyes, seeing her wounds closely and knowing that her friend died in pain and blood. "Eowyn," Arwen said again, stroking her cheek gently.

Arwen looked up, the waves breaking over the shore, growing bigger, the tide coming in around them. Eowyn's legs were now completely submerged under the water. Arwen lifted her head into her lap, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Lifting her wet form out of the water as it deepened to her waist even as she knelt. Arwen leaned down and touched Eowyn's cold forehead with her own. "Find me," she said quietly. "After you go through the water, come and find me. I won't be parted from you again." She looked up at the sky and prayed to whichever gods were listening that Eowyn would wake in the same place she was, so that they could be together again as they had been in life. They water now brushed her chest, threatening to knock her over. Arwen stood, walking into the water. Eowyn's body floated next to her, her head and shoulders still cradled in Arwen's arms. Arwen blinked her eyes closed, holding Eowyn tight to her chest, letting her tears fall onto Eowyn's face. She brushed her hands over her hair once, then slowly released her body into the water. She watched as the waves crashed over her, swallowing her into their depths. Then she was gone and Arwen was alone again.

Slowly, Arwen turned, grief washing over her for those Eowyn had left behind. Over the wind, she could hear Aragorn's screams, as if his heart was being taken still beating from his chest. She closed her eyes, trying to tune out the sound. A sob escaped her lips as she walked back out of the water. Behind her closed eyes she saw Aragorn bent over Eowyn's body, screaming into the blood -soaked mattress. Arwen stepped clear of the water, her wet dress clinging to her, her arms wrapped around herself as she cried. She sat down in the sand, pulling her knees to her chest and laid her forehead on them, letting her sobs overtake her.

..::..

Light poured over Eowyn's body, warming her cold skin and turning the darkness to the familiar red of the back of her eyelids. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, above her she saw a white sky full of clouds streaked over with lines of black, like veins. But when she blinked she realized they were tiny white flowers and the streaks of black were the dark branches of trees. Eowyn sat up slowly, her hands running over the soft green grass, soft white petals fell like snow the ground. She looked down at herself, her hair fell over her shoulders in a waterfall of silk and she wore a simple white dress, all the bloodstains gone, her body healed and whole once again.

Then it all came back to her in a flood. She could feel Aragorn's arms around her, holding her as the life drained from her. She remembered the heat of the room and the sound of Awena's sobs, and the way the fire had made Eldarion's hair glow like a halo around his face. She rocked back and forth, her arms cradling herself. She gasped for breath and felt the soft grass on her face.

..::..

Aragorn opened the door to his children's room, soundlessly slipping inside, leaving the room full of death behind him. He smiled sadly as he saw his children asleep in each other's arms, clutching onto to each other, both comforting the other. He wiped away the wetness at his cheeks and walked to a basin of water left on a small table. Holding the cool water to his puffy eyes, he tried to wash away everything they had seen. He walked back to the bed and brushed his dirty hands over Eldarion's head. He listened to Awena's soft breathing, the sound so sweet in his ears, he thought it may crush him. He sank to his knees and stared at them in the dark until his sadness and exhaustion pulled him down. He sat down leaning his head back on the side of the mattress and let his eyes close.

..::..

Eowyn smiled up at Aragorn, watching him work in the underbrush, checking their traps. Her face looked so young like a child's and mischief played in her eyes. He reached his hand forward and touched her cheek. Eowyn took his hand and kissed his palm then nipped his hand playfully. "First one back to the camp wins the other's share of rabbit," she said. Without waiting for him to comprehend she took off through the trees.

Aragorn laughed and took off after her, his long strides overtaking her. He wrapped his big hands around her tiny waist, pushing past her. Eowyn screamed indignantly, running after him, laughing through her breath. She caught up to him, jumping onto his back. Aragorn laughed, swinging her around to his front and planting her feet on the ground. Letting her get a little ahead of him, he watched as she looked over her shoulder, smiling at him. She was so incredibly beautiful and free and alive; it made his heart sing to just look at her.

Then he was after her again as she broke through the tree line laughing, thinking she had won. Aragorn caught her again, running into her knees, snatching her off the ground. Eowyn yelped as he tossed her over his shoulder into the soft grass. Eowyn reached out and caught his ankle, her grip like iron, knocking him off his feet. She crawled over his body, her palm on the back of his head, pushing his face down as she reached the packs at the edge of the camp, falling onto her back and pumping her fists into the air.

"I win!" Eowyn screamed laughing.

Legolas looked at them across the fire, his eyebrows raised. "You were racing?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Eowyn said, sitting up, brushing a hand through her long hair, smiling at Aragorn as he sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "And I won," she said, grabbing Aragorn's face and kissing his cheek with a smack.

..::..

Aragorn woke up smiling, his eyes still closed as he relived the memory. He turned his head to the side sleepily, wanting to tell Eowyn about his dream of year ago, when they had been so young, their lives so different from now. He turned his head to the side and realized he was sitting, not laying in his bed, and Eowyn was not beside him. Reality came flooding back to him, he remembered where he was and what had happened, that he was alone now.

"Father," he heard Eldarion's voice ask softly from behind him. Aragorn turned and saw his son laying behind him, his voice sad and hollow. Aragorn climbed into the bed, lying next to him and wrapping his arms around the boy. "She had no sword," Eldarion said softly. "She killed them all without her sword."

Aragorn looked down at Eldarion's blonde curls, listening to him talk slowly and sleepily. "Why did she have no sword?" He asked, his brows creasing together.

"She threw it," Eldarion answered, touching his forehead to his father's side, tears seeping out of his closed eyes. "The Orc was running towards us. She threw it and killed it, but there were still Orcs all around her. She fought them with her bare hands, that's why…" He stumbled over his words, his voice full of guilt. "That's why her hands were cut. She grabbed the Orc's sword and killed him with it."

"Shh," Aragorn said, running his thumb over Eldarion's cheeks. "You can tell me later."

Eldarion shook his head, the words bubbling up in him as he told his father everything. He told him how she had fought every Orc, stabbed the biggest one with the blade from her own wound. Aragorn listened in silence as he told him how every wound had happened, how she had sacrificed herself over and over to defend them. Aragorn let his eyes close, tears seeping over his temples as he imagined Eowyn fighting so fiercely, protecting their children with her body.

"I'm sorry," Eldarion breathed finally. "I'm sorry, Father," he cried.

Aragorn brushed his fingers through the boy's hair. "Why are you sorry?" He asked, his voice soft.

"I should have done something," he said. "But I was so scared. I just sat with Awena, I couldn't move."

"No, Eldarion," Aragorn said, rolling over, looking into the boy's eyes.

Eldarion shook his head. He imagined the Orc holding his mother in the air and he had run his blade through his back. "I'm sorry," he said again, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough. I failed and she must be so ashamed of me." He felt his father's big arms hands land on his arms, warm and reassuring. Eldarion closed his eyes, his father's hand moving to his cheek.

"Your mother loved you," Aragorn said. "She was proud of you. You did nothing wrong, you kept your sister safe."

Eldarion shook his head again but stayed quiet, not believing his father's words.

..::..

Eomer walked up the stone steps of the Golden Hall wearily, the first light of the morning was just climbing over the horizon. They had searched for a full day and night and found no signs of the Orc band that had been reported. Perhaps they had been in another region entirely. Eomer sighed in frustration, he couldn't help but feel like he had left for nothing, wasting his time with his sister and her family. He saw the way she had looked at him in the apple orchard and sighed again. Now all he wanted was to climb into his warm bed and hold Lothiriel close and sleep until midday. He smiled to himself, pushing the door to the great hall open as he thought of his body next to his.

Eomer stopped when he saw Lothiriel sitting alone at the long table, her elbows resting on the wood, her palms pressed into her eyes, supporting her head. His brow knit together as we walked close to her. Why was she alone here in the hall and not asleep in their bed? "Lothiriel," he said softly, touching her shoulder. Her head flew up and she breathed out a long sigh as her eyes met his. Her eyes were rimmed with red and he wondered if she had slept at all. He sat down beside her on the bench, his hands coming to rest on her arms as he waited for her to speak.

Lothiriel looked up into his deep blue eyes then down to his powerful shoulders, trying to find the words that she knew would break him. She had sat alone in the hall for hours trying to find the words, waiting for him to walk through those doors so she would be the first one to see him, to tell him. But now she looked at the person she loved most in the world and couldn't find the words. She heard Aragorn's screaming in her mind and closed her eyes with a shudder.

"You're safe," was all Lothiriel could say, thanking the gods.

"There was no band of Orcs," Eomer said, finally leaning his body into the table beside them, resting his face in one hand and playing with a strand of her hair in the other.

Lothiriel shook her head knowingly. "Not to the north," she said softly, opening her eyes to look into Eomer's.

Eomer looked at her, his eyes full of questions. How could she have known? He wondered.

Lothiriel knew it was coming now and there was no way to stop or go back to only a few days ago, when they had all laughed in the kitchens, the room filled with sweet smells. She felt bile rush up her throat and had to turn to the side as she heaved up yellow burning acid.

Eomer smiled sadly, rubbing his hand over her back. "The baby?" He said softly, touching her middle. Lothiriel nodded, not meeting his eyes. Eomer took her arms and gently lifted her from her seat to lead her away. "Let's go to bed," he said, his voice tired.

"Eomer," Lothiriel said, resting her hand on his cheek. "The Orcs were not in the north near the mountains as we had thought. They were close, in the Eastfold by the river."

Eomer felt anger flare up in him, the river was less than an hour's ride from the city. "Were there reports from the villages there?" Eomer asked.

Lothiriel shook her head and took a shaky inhale. "Aragorn and Eowyn, their children, rode to spend the day by the water. Eowyn said you used to play in the carved-out caves there when you were children."

Eomer nodded, thinking of their home before their parents had died. How Eowyn would ask to go to the river, close to where it had had been. But then his thoughts darkened. "We thought the pack was large," he said, his hands coming to Lothiriel's shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "At least twenty, as large as fifty."

Again, Lothiriel nodded. "They were caught in the middle of the them," she said softly.

Eomer felt worry bubble up inside him. "The children?" He asked. "Are they safe?" He breathed, seeing Awena's bright smile in his mind and Eldarion's riding to him over the fields. Lothiriel nodded, she smiled or grimaced, Eomer couldn't tell as he breathed out the breath he had been holding, pulling Lothiriel into his arms.

"Your sister," Lothiriel said quietly into his chest. "She was badly wounded."

Eomer felt the floor tip and he held onto his wife tightly. "Where is she?" Was all he could get out of his mouth. He had promised to protect her.

Lothiriel shook her head, pressing her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly, trying to absorb some of the pain she knew would flood Eomer. "She's not here," she said, start to cry once more.

"What?" Eomer said breathlessly, wracking his mind for where she could have gone. The Houses of Healing were a week's ride away, the Elves of Lothlorien were gone. Why and where would Aragorn have taken her to heal.

"She has gone onto the next life," Lothiriel said, not able to even form the word death.

"No," Eomer said adamantly. If he thought the world had tipped before, now it was spinning out of control, threatening to throw him right from its surface. "Where is she?" He asked again, slowly forming each word.

Lothiriel looked up into his face contorted with anguish, and yet his eyes held no understanding. "Eomer, Eowyn is dead," she said, watching his eyes shut tightly.

Eomer began to shake his head, seeing his ester sitting beside him in the long grass, her eyes sad. He felt himself start to sink towards the ground, Lothiriel not letting him go. He had left before dawn, hadn't even said goodbye to her before he road out. His forehead landed on Lothriel's shoulder, sobs overtaking his body. "No, no, no," he sobbed over and over again, holding onto Lothiriel and crushing her body to his as the world tipped and spun around him. He held her like an anchor in a storm. Sobs clawed through him, ripping him apart. His head slipped down from her shoulder, his body bending almost in half. His mouth went silent and his shoulder shook. His cheek found Lothriel's growing middle and he pressed into its softness. His whole body trembled.

Finally, Eomer let go, running his hands over his face, swiping away the wetness with a shaking hand. He knelt across from Lothiriel, the room around them blurred into nothingness as he looked into her eyes, watching tears fall slowly down her cheeks.

"Her body," Lothriel said shakily. "It's in her room." Eomer nodded slowly, pulling his body to stand. "I'll wait for you in bed," Lothiriel said tenderly touching his cheek.

..::..

Eomer walked slowly through the dark hallways toward Eowyn's childhood room. He felt a lump growing in his throat so he couldn't swallow, could hardly breathe past it. He paused at the closed wooden door, staring down at the handle he wondered if he wanted to see what was beyond. If he opened the door what would meet him? Part of him wanted to turn away and go to his room, crawl under the quilts and close his eyes to the pain. It was the part of him that was still the small boy who had watched his mother die. But Eowyn had been beside him then, her fire warming him. He reached for the handle and felt the click of the lock under his palm, the door swung open, inviting him into the room.

The sun had risen, cool white light streaming in through Eowyn's window, forming a box of light over her middle. Eomer took another step into the room and looked down at his little sister. Her body was so still, her face so white. Eomer's brows bunched together, his eyes squinting in pain as he looked at Eowyn laying before him in the bed she had slept in for many years. Her face looked peaceful where it lay on a stack of pillows as if she had not dared death when it came for her, so unlike the many faces he had seen on battlefields. She had always been the bravest person he had ever known.

Eomer knelt next to the bed quietly, as if not to disturb her. He stared down at the small line of blood that had worked down form the corner of her closed lips and down over the line of her jaw. The white dress she wore looked pristine, hiding the wounds that covered her body. He lifted his arms, holding them on the edge of the bed and resting his forehead on his forearms. Tears rolls down his cheeks as he recalled the bits of memory he had of the night she was born.

..::..

His four-year-old self sat in the doorway to their home, staring out at the stars listening to his mother's cries as the night continued. As he listened to his mother's cries they were replaced by a baby's. Eomer jumped up and ran through the door, hoping with all of his might that he had a brother. But as he burst in the midwife was just handing a small bundle to his mother. "You have a daughter, my lady," she said.

Eomer stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulder falling and all of his excitement turned to disappointment. "Eomer," his mother said in her soft voice. His eyes turned to where his mother lay on the bed, his father standing over her.

They both looked up and smiled at him, and his father held out his hand. "Come and meet your sister, Eomer."

The small boy walked slowly over and climbed onto the bed beside his mother. "This is Eowyn," she said, handling him the small child wrapped in blankets .

Eomer looked down into her deep blue eyes and saw his own eyes. He held her close. "I love her," he whispered.

..::..

Eomer looked up at Eowyn's face, to her deep blue eyes that would never open again.

..::..

"Come on, Eowyn," Eomer yelled, looking over his shoulder as they flew over the plains, their horses running full tilt.

"I'm going to beat you," she yelled back, her hair streaming behind her.

"You might beat your brother, but you'll never beat me! My horse is ten times bigger than both of yours," Theodred called back to them.

Eomer frowned, the last time Eowyn lost their race Theodred had rubbed it in her face. Eowyn had cried and then punched their cousin repeatedly as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. He wouldn't let her be hurt again. Eomer slowed down, almost to a stop and watched as Eowyn's white mare galloped past him. She's never going to beat him, he thought sadly as his cousin spurred his charger fifty feet in front of her, but Eowyn pulled out to the side and up one of the hills. What is she doing? Eomer thought, but Eowyn turned her horse yet again and came crashing down the steep slope at breakneck speed. Eomer's eyes grew wide. "Eowyn!" he screamed happily as she pulled to a stop at the finish line, miles ahead of Theodred. Eomer pushed his mount forward, smiling. She beat him, he thought over and over. When he caught up with the other two children, Eowyn was sitting in the saddle laughing uncontrollably, watching Theodred pace in front of her.

"How did you do that," Theodred kept muttering over and over. "You must have cheated."

"She didn't cheat," Eomer said. "I saw the whole thing."

Eowyn turned to him beaming. "Did you? Did you see it?" She asked.

Eomer nodded, smiling. "You were so fast," he said. "How did you get the idea of going over the hill instead of around it?" He asked.

Eowyn smiled proudly and shrugged.

"You did cheat!" Theodred yelled, pointing at her.

Eomer looked at him. "No, she didn't. You're just sorry a girl nine years younger just beat you."

..::..

Eomer smiled sadly. He heard the door that connected his old room to hers click open. He saw Aragorn standing in the frame, his head hanging, unashamed of the teras covering his cheeks. He looked like a man who had just been pulled from the sea, partially drowned and completely lost. Eomer tried to find words to tell him of the pain that coursed through his body as swiftly as blood, or how sorry he was for her children, now motherless as they had been. He wanted to move across the room, to hold the other man, their pain mirroring each other. Aragorn just nodded, knowing everything Eomer's eyes had said. Eomer looked back down at Eowyn, covering his mouth and bowing his head. He let sobs take over his body, one hand holding on desperately to the sheet of the bed, his face buried in the other.

Aragorn walked slowly to his wife's brother and placed a hand on his shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks. He felt Eomer shake under his hand, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Finally, Aragorn sat down on the floor beside Eomer, leaning on the base of the bed.

They sat there for a long time, the three of them, until Eomer stood and stumbled from the room, not saying a word. Aragorn leaned his head back, taking in a long breath, then he wiped his eyes and stood. He backed away slowly, not wanting to leave, his eyes fixed on Eowyn's still form. His eyes filled with love, he willed her sit up and smile, but she just lay there cold and gone.