The battle rages around them, a cacophony of clashing swords and screams, but Eowyn's world has narrowed to a single focus—her uncle, King Theoden, lying crushed beneath the weight of his horse. His once proud and noble figure is now broken, pinned to the ground, his breath shallow and labored. His armor is dented, blood seeping from multiple wounds. Despite the agony that must be tearing through his body, he still holds on, refusing to let go.

Eowyn, her limbs trembling with exhaustion, drags herself through the carnage toward him. Her body is battered from the fighting, but she pushes on, her heart thundering in her chest. She reaches him and falls to her knees, her hands shaking as she strokes his dirt-streaked face. Her tears mix with the blood and dust of the battlefield, but she doesn't care. All that matters is him.

Theoden's pale, bloodied face turns toward her, and he weakly raises his hand, his gloved fingers brushing against her cheek. There is a recognition in his eyes, but also a deep weariness. "I know your face, Eowyn. My eyes darken..." His voice is quiet, hoarse, barely above a whisper, as if each word costs him.

"No, no!" Eowyn gasps, her voice cracking with desperation. She clutches his hand tighter, as though trying to anchor him to this world. "I'm going to save you, Uncle. I won't let you go."

Theoden's eyes flicker with a sad understanding. His body is broken, his spirit too. He smiles faintly, though it's a smile tinged with sorrow. "You already did. Eowyn, my body is broken... You must let me go."

Eowyn shakes her head furiously, the grief threatening to swallow her. "No!" she cries out, her voice raw. "I can't—please, I can't lose you! You can't leave me."

His eyes soften, filled with an acceptance she isn't ready to face. "I go to my fathers, in whose mighty company... I shall not now feel ashamed." He looks at her, a final gaze filled with love and regret. "Eowyn..."

Tears streak down her face, but she doesn't let go of his hand. She shakes him, begging him, "No, Uncle! Please!" But her voice is drowned out by the noise of battle, by the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Just then, a figure approaches through the smoke and chaos, her presence steady and determined. Liv, a healer from another land, races to their side, her eyes immediately locking onto Theoden's condition. Her breath is steady, her focus unshakable as she kneels beside Eowyn.

"Eowyn, move," Liv commands, her voice cutting through the air with quiet urgency.

Eowyn looks up at her, disbelief flashing in her eyes. "What will you do to him?" she demands, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "He's beyond saving."

Liv looks at her with unwavering determination, placing a hand on Theoden's chest, assessing the damage. "If you want me to save him, you must move," she says firmly, her tone brokering no argument. "I have enough chakra stored up to heal him and continue fighting. But I need space to work."

Eowyn hesitates for a moment, her heart torn. She doesn't want to leave his side. She doesn't want to let go, but she knows she has no other choice. "Please," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Please, save him."

Liv doesn't wait for another word. She stands and turns toward Legolas, who has been fighting nearby, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. "Legolas!" Liv calls out.

Legolas, ever vigilant, glances toward her. "What is it? Are you all right?" he asks, his concern evident despite the chaos around them.

"I'm fine, but I have to save Theoden," Liv replies quickly, her voice clear with purpose. "Cover me."

Legolas nods without hesitation, his face hardening with resolve. "I trust you, Liv."

Eowyn, her gaze flicking between Liv and Theoden, feels a strange sense of hope stir within her. She looks down at her uncle, tears still brimming in her eyes, but nods. "I trust you too," she says, her voice quieter now, but filled with the strength she feels in this moment.

Liv moves swiftly, her hands coming together in a fluid, practiced motion. Her fingers form a precise seal, and she closes her eyes for a moment, drawing on the chakra she has stored deep within her. The energy hums around her, and as she opens her eyes, her gaze hardens with focus. "Healing Art: Rhapsody of Life," she calls, her voice steady and commanding.

Her hands hover over Theoden's battered body, and a golden light erupts from her palms, enveloping the king's broken form. Eowyn watches in awe as the light begins to stitch his wounds together, to heal the deep gashes and broken bones. The warmth of the energy seems to flow into his very soul, and for a moment, Theoden's face softens in relief, his breath deepening, the painful rasp of his lungs starting to ease.

Eowyn gasps, feeling a flicker of hope in her chest. She clutches Theoden's hand tighter, her tears now flowing freely. "Is it working?" she asks, her voice full of desperate hope.

Liv's expression remains calm but weary. She continues to channel her chakra into Theoden's form, but the process is slow. After several long moments, she pulls her hands away, her energy beginning to wane. "I've healed him to the best of my ability," she says quietly, her breath heavy. "But you need to get him out of here. He's stable, but he's not yet fully recovered."

Eowyn looks around frantically, the weight of the situation dawning on her. "How? There are too many of them," she says, panic rising in her voice. "We can't move him—we'll never make it."

Liv's eyes narrow with determination. "That won't be an issue," she says, her voice steady and full of resolve. She makes another hand seal, her fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air. "Ninja Art: Hidden Mist Jutsu."

A thick, heavy mist begins to swirl around them, the battlefield slowly vanishing behind a wall of dense fog. The sound of the fighting grows muffled, and the air feels damp and cool, a protective barrier against the chaos of the war. The mist provides cover—an opportunity to move undetected.

Liv steps back, drawing her katana from its sheath with a swift, practiced motion. "Go, Eowyn," she urges, her voice calm but firm. "Move him. I'll cover you."

Eowyn doesn't hesitate. With a renewed sense of purpose, she helps lift Theoden's injured form, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of healing that Liv has provided. She nods at Liv, the trust between them now solidified in the face of danger.

"Thank you, Liv," Eowyn says, her voice full of gratitude.

Liv offers a brief but steady nod. "We're not done yet. Stay close, and we'll get him out of here."

With Liv's mist shielding them, Eowyn and Liv move swiftly, Theoden's weight heavy between them, but the hope of salvation keeping their feet steady. Behind them, Legolas stands firm, his bow at the ready, keeping watch as the mist hides them from view. The battle rages on, but for the moment, they are hidden, safe—and Eowyn knows that, with this second chance, they may yet escape the storm.