Oh in my head I have an image of a Rover, perhapsOlgar, perhaps some other lady or gent of the cause, standing with troll stoicism as a childling beats fists on him or her going "Why didn't you save my mother... you were supposed to save all of us! Why didn't you get her too!" And the Rover just stands here, not betraying just how much they think they deserve every blow, ineffective as the child's punches are.