He lets that sink in for a moment, and he knows she's right. How many people has he lost, now? His father first, then his mother. Bucky--though he found him again, eventually, the loss had taken its toll. The Howling Commandos. Peggy, twice now, and he's sure there's a part of him he'll never recover, lost to her forever. Coulson, back in the first attack on New York when Loki had brought an army through a hole in the sky. Natasha, this time, and Tony not long after. Probably all the other Avengers, too, because how is he ever getting back from this?

Everyone he's ever known or cared about is gone, for one reason or another, and he's here in this land straight from the pages of a fantasy book. Somehow, it's still not the strangest turn his life has ever taken, but in the moment it's the most unexpected. Yet again he's being forced to reevaluate his understanding of the nature of reality; just when he thought he'd been close to figuring things out, the rug has been pulled out from under him again.

Looking over at Éomer, he nods. "You're right. I guess that's what I meant when I said it's hard. Not the losing part, but what comes after. There's a theory about grief, where I come from, that it has stages you go through. Shock and anger. Denial. Depression, resentment. Guilt. They say you're supposed to reach acceptance at some point, but I don't think I'm there yet. I don't know if I ever will be, for some of them. Dunno if that's normal, but I guess all you can do is muddle through."

He pats Arroch's neck and the horse wickers softly.

"But enough of that. What's on the docket for today? Training exercises? Are you going to try and see how many times I can fall off a horse before I cry uncle?"