Tears are nothing to feel shame about, in the Mark, and so Éomer does not stare when Steven swipes the linen of his shirt over his face as he stares intently at Arroch's flank as if concentrating very hard. A part of her wonders if she should offer him a handkerchief with which to wipe his eyes so he does not rub horse hair into them, but the only handkerchief she has in her possession is one embroidered by her sister, and while Éowyn is many lovely things, skilled at needlecraft is not one of them.

Still, Éomer carries that little square of supple, exotic cotton imported from Dol Amroth and beyond with her everywhere, even though the stitches that decorate it are lopsided and snarled at times. She loves Éowyn more than life itself, though they are often at odds, and having a token of her held close to her heart soothes some of the worries Éomer cannot help but feel every single day.

"Losing people is the easiest thing in the world," she counters, her voice steady, even though her eyes are sad as she meets Steven's gaze and gives him a wry smile of her own. "It is learning how to live without them that is difficult."