The battlefield was quiet, save for the soft murmur of the wind and the occasional distant cry of a dying warrior. Eomer moved among the fallen, his heart heavy with grief as he searched for his sister. His boots crunched over the bodies of the dead, his hands trembling as he searched each face, praying that he would find her among the slain. His mind raced—Where is she? The fierce battle had taken its toll, and the chaos had claimed so many lives. But he couldn't—wouldn't—believe that she was lost to him.

A soft voice called out behind him, "Merry." Pippin, standing a few paces away, had found the remnants of his friend's cloak. He reached down and picked it up, his heart sinking as he held the fabric to his chest. Eomer turned toward the sound of Pippin's voice, but his focus was elsewhere.

"No," Eomer said, his voice barely a whisper, before turning and running towards a body lying near the edges of the battlefield. He had spotted her—his sister's pale face beneath a tattered cloak. He reached her side in a flash, kneeling beside her as tears threatened to well in his eyes. With trembling hands, he gently cradled Eowyn in his arms, pulling her close to his chest.

Aragorn, not far away, had heard Eomer's cry, and his gaze flickered over the carnage, finally resting on the scene before him. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Eomer holding Eowyn's broken form. The weight of the moment hit him like a hammer, and for a moment, the weight of loss and the fragility of life gripped him. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye as he watched the noble warrior cradle his sister, a moment of pure grief and sorrow shared between them.

Beside him, Liv, his faithful companion, watched with her own sorrow-filled eyes. She knew the depths of pain Eomer must have felt. She nodded solemnly, acknowledging the weight of their shared loss.

After a long pause, Aragorn turned, signaling to Liv, and they both moved quickly toward the House of Healing. Eomer had been reluctant to leave Eowyn, but the hope of saving her still lingered.

Inside the House of Healing, the walls were filled with the moans of the wounded, but there was a sense of calm in the air as the healers worked tirelessly. Eomer sat beside Eowyn, his face etched with worry. His hand gently held hers, but there was nothing he could do. The battle was over, but the fight for Eowyn's life had only just begun.

Aragorn knelt beside her, his eyes sharp with the precision of a healer. He lifted her damaged arm, examining the shattered bone with a grim expression. His fingers brushed over the wound, and a soft breath escaped his lips. There was no time to waste.

Liv, already at Aragorn's side, held out her hands. Drawing from her deep reserves of medical ninjutsu, she summoned her healing energy, wrapping it around Eowyn's broken arm with a soft glow. The air hummed with power as Liv's skills went to work. The bone began to knit together, though the damage was far too great to be fully healed in one moment.

Aragorn soaked a cloth with cool water from a nearby basin, then gently placed it on Eowyn's forehead, bathing her face with tender care. His touch was light, as though every movement he made carried the weight of the world. His brow furrowed in concentration, a quiet prayer to the Valar escaping his lips.

Eomer sat in silence, his gaze fixed on Eowyn's face. His eyes were filled with grief, but there was also a spark of hope that perhaps—just perhaps—his sister would pull through. His hands, which had once wielded a sword with deadly precision, now rested uselessly at his side. There was nothing he could do but wait.

A soft breath escaped Eowyn's lips. Then another. Her chest rose and fell, the faintest hint of life stirring within her. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly, painfully, they opened. Her eyes, wide and confused, locked onto Aragorn's face. The realization that she was alive seemed to take a moment to settle in. She blinked, her gaze shifting to Liv, who stood just behind Aragorn.

Eowyn's voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, the words soft and unsteady. "What... happened?" Her eyes searched for something familiar, the confusion evident in her tone.

Aragorn's voice was calm and reassuring as he spoke, a steady presence in the midst of the chaos. "You are safe, Eowyn. You are in the House of Healing. You were gravely wounded, but we have done what we can. You will recover."

Eomer, still seated at her side, let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A tear slid down his cheek as he grasped her hand tightly. "I thought... I thought I had lost you."

Eowyn's lips trembled slightly as she gave him a weak smile. "I... I am not so easy to rid of."

A soft chuckle escaped Eomer's throat, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a small sense of relief. Though there was much healing still to be done, the light of hope flickered once again in his heart.

Aragorn and Liv exchanged a quiet glance, knowing that the road ahead would be long, but for now, they had saved Eowyn from the brink of death.