A/N: Erm…okay, fYr3 ph03nix, I did try – really, really tried – to get inspired once again on the Elboron chronicle, but I'm still coming up dry there. And then this came to me and I "had" to start writing it. You wouldn't want me to not write until I get going on Elboron, now would you?

This tale is a bit more angsty than many of my stories, and romance is not the bulk of it, though that hovers in the background through much of it – be forewarned! I've put several informational notes at the bottom for your reference.

FYI, I have discovered that many words I thought were too "modern" actually are much older than I realized (such as "animated", which dates back to 1534). While I try to avoid modern language, more of these will find their way into my stories now that I've found that out, though I do confess to sneaking in some words that didn't turn up until the 1600-1700s. (My source is found at www dot merriam-webster dotcom)

BTW, you lot seem to have overlooked two wonderful tales: Gently Held by spacellamaprincess and Wonderful Tonight by Violin Ghost (she's also done a Narnia one that is very good, called "The Eve of Christmas Eve"). Check them out!

After the Rain

(Dol Amroth, April, 3020 III)

Chapter 1

"Eomer…welcome. Welcome."

Though Imrahil's greeting was cordial, I sensed something was amiss. Before the Prince had departed Edoras the previous summer, we had agreed that I would visit Dol Amroth during our venture to Gondor for Eowyn's wedding. While we had not set a specific date, Imrahil had assured me any time at all was fine with him, and I had thought to come before the nuptials, thinking we could travel to Minas Tirith together. Eowyn had not joined me, electing instead to go directly to Mundburg, eager to see her betrothed as soon as possible.

Now that I was here, I got the distinct impression that my arrival had been overlooked, and possibly was not so welcome as Imrahil claimed. "Do I come at a bad time?" I asked. The Rohirrim were a forthright people, and I would not stay if it would inconvenience my friends. I was sure there must be a good reason for any reticence.

Imrahil sighed heavily, and clamped a hand on my shoulder, drawing me with him. "Come inside and I will explain," he answered quietly.

We moved into the castle, and though normally my eyes would have flicked about with interest to study my new surroundings, I was too preoccupied for such at the moment. Imrahil led me to his study, closing the door behind us. Silently, he moved over and poured us each a goblet of wine, handing one to me before seating himself in a chair. I followed his example and settled on a couch nearby, waiting to hear what he would say.

For several long moments, nothing was spoken as Imrahil studied the wine swirling in his glass, but at length he offered, "You could not know, of course, and in the midst of it all I neglected to send word…" His voice trailed off momentarily, but then he pressed on more firmly, a slight hoarseness tinging his voice, "My wife…passed away, nearly a fortnight past. We are still…adjusting…to our loss. I confess, I had forgotten you were coming."

Now that I looked more closely, I could see the lines of tiredness etched in his face, the dark circles under his eyes. He looked far older than when last we met. As he again lapsed into silence, I opted for honesty. "Would you prefer I leave, my friend? I can visit another time."

"No…no," he hastened to declare, then raised weary eyes to add, "We stood by you in your grief. I would be grateful to have you with me now."

I nodded, readily willing to offer my support. "Of course." I hesitated, then queried, "Do you still plan to travel to Minas Tirith for the wedding?"

There was another long silence before he nodded, and straightened with determination. "Certainly! I would not have our sorrows taint this day of joy for Faramir and Eowyn. Though, I fear, I have lost track of time. I must hasten to make travel arrangements."

"I am at your service," I sincerely assured him. "Command me as you will."

"Thank you, my friend! That is most appreciated," he replied, smiling warmly.

Rising, Imrahil moved to the door and sent a servant, lingering outside, to fetch his steward. Once the man had joined us, we set to determining the best way to effect our journey. It was decided that travel by boat up the Anduin would be the easiest, though I would send most of my escort party overland to meet us there. A party of Swan Knights would guide my men, and thus be in the White City to attend Imrahil and his family while there.

Once the matter was planned, his steward left to make the arrangements, and the two of us had a quiet dinner there in his study, catching up on news. Even so, Imrahil's thoughts repeatedly drifted to his departed wife, quite naturally, and I spent much of the time indulging him in his reminisces about her and their life together. While I knew that many of the Gondorian nobility wed for practical concerns, and nobility often did so for the sake of alliance, clearly there had been love in Imrahil's union. He did not say whether it had always been so, right from the outset, but it mattered little. What was most important was that love had blossomed between them. Personally, I could not imagine taking a wife whom I did not love deeply even as we said our vows. Political alliances might have their place, but I was determined that they would not define my future. I had given much of myself to the Riddermark over the years, and I was prepared to give even more, until the day I died, but I would do it with a loving wife beside me. Though Eowyn married for love, and political considerations never entered her thoughts, still her wedding was extremely advantageous in that regard. As far as I was concerned, one such marriage in our family was sufficient, though I did not relish the thought of the arguments that would surely ensue with my counselors if I chose a bride they deemed 'lacking'.

The afternoon was far spent when I at length retired to the chambers I had been given for the duration of my visit. Once the servant left me, I spent a little time examining the room. Like Mundburg, they used mostly stone in their constructions, and all was smooth and cool. The chambers were far larger than those in Meduseld, where only the king himself had anything so spacious. Just as in Minas Tirith, there were sunken chambers for bathing, and I grinned to myself. I had become quite spoiled with that guilty pleasure, and had been reluctant to leave them behind when at last I returned home. There was also a balcony which overlooked a garden that was already well in flower, as the warmer climate here did not hold the plants in check so long as happened in the north. Imrahil had mentioned his wife had a fondness for roses, and the fragrance from innumerable bushes wafted up to me.

But along with that came a new smell – a salty tang to the air. The sea. The road here had given us snatched glimpses of it, but nothing like the view from the castle. It almost seemed that I could see for leagues, gazing out over unending expanses of water. Boats with brightly colored sails bobbed in the harbor below, and gulls wheeled and cried overhead. Both Imrahil and his sons had spoken much of their home, and I had been looking forward to seeing the sea for the first time in my life. I was not at all disappointed with this new sight, and I was eager to explore it more closely. The unexpected circumstances might mean I would need to do so more on my own than in the company of my friends, as I had originally planned, but either way I would make sure I got my fill before we departed five days hence.

I was not sure what to expect at supper. I had met only two of Imrahil's sons, Erchirion and Amrothos, while at Minas Tirith. The eldest and heir to the throne, Elphir, had remained at Dol Amroth to rule in his father's stead while Imrahil was away at war in the north. Imrahil's wife and daughter had also remained at home during that time, and due to various reasons had neither joined us for the victory celebrations nor come to Edoras with the Prince for Theoden's funeral. Even then, I knew Imrahil's wife had suffered health difficulties, and his daughter had readily attended her mother. Additionally, Elphir's wife had birthed their second child, a daughter, and so both Imrahil's wife and daughter were eager to assist the new mother with Elphir's heir, Alphros, while she recovered from the birthing.

Both husband and sons had spoken warmly of Sirrin, Imrahil's wife, and I wondered which was more difficult – losing a spouse or a mother. Certainly I had seen the devastating effects of the former in my own life. My mother had succumbed to her despondency when my father was killed, and even the needs of her two beloved children could not hold her to this world. Yet, Eowyn and I had suffered cruelly also in the loss of both our parents in so short a time. No, I was not sure I could determine which was the more difficult.

A servant appeared, informing me supper would be served in an hour, so I retreated from my reverie to prepare. I was grateful to be among friends and not have to put on appearances for them. I dressed comfortably, as Imrahil had urged earlier, and made my way to the main hall at the appointed hour. I was directed to the dining room, where I was quickly greeted by Erchirion and Amrothos, though I noted the subdued manner of both. While we were engaged in trivial conversation, Elphir and his wife, Alcathir, arrived. As I was making their acquaintance, Imrahil came with his daughter on his arm.

Imrahil and his sons were all handsome men, and I had seen many a lady of Minas Tirith eye them appreciatively. Although part of that might be attributed to their status, it had been evident those of the feminine gender were well pleased with what their eyes beheld also. Around a campfire one night, Amrothos had told me the tale of how their family supposedly had Elvish ancestry, and looking at Lothiriel, I could definitely believe the rumors were based in fact. When she brushed her hair back and I caught a glimpse of an ear, I half expected to see a pointed tip upon it.

Gimli and I had once nearly come to blows over my failure to acknowledge the Lady of the Golden Wood as the fairest that ever lived. I had chosen, instead, Queen Arwen Evenstar, discovering that raven locks greatly appealed to me. Now, looking at this woman, I began to question whether Queen Arwen truly was the fairest lady of my acquaintance, for this woman was quite her equal. In some ways, I preferred Lothiriel's earthly allure over the ethereal perfection of the Elves. The only thing that marred her loveliness was the desolation in her eyes. It wrenched at my heart to see it, for she was far too young and fair to be so burdened.

I became aware that Imrahil had introduced us, and I quickly bowed politely over her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She gave me a cordial smile, but her thoughts were not on me or this gathering. She was here of necessity only; given a choice, I was sure she would have remained secluded in her room. How well I knew what a mistake that would be. It had been a constant battle to draw Eowyn out of her room and encourage her to spend time with our uncle and cousin. Even I had preferred hiding, alone in my misery. Fortunately, neither Uncle nor Theodred had been willing to allow it. Both were familiar with grieving and they knew they must save us from ourselves. Gazing at Lothiriel, a determination rose in me not to allow her to withdraw from society and be sucked down into that morass of melancholy. While I remained in Gondor, I would do all I could to help her through this trial.

Imrahil directed everyone to be seated, and I found myself between Imrahil and Erchirion, but across from Lothiriel. For the most part, she kept her eyes lowered during the course of the meal, and my few attempts at drawing her out only brought perfunctory responses. She excused herself not long after the supper was concluded, and Imrahil watched her leave the room with anguish on his face. At length, he murmured to me, "Please forgive my daughter, Eomer. She does not intend to slight you, but she was very close to her mother and she is finding it difficult to cope with the loss."

"Do not apologize, my friend. I quite understand," I quickly answered.

Amrothos changed the subject then, saying, "You seem to have brought more than a few spare horses with you Eomer. Is that not unusual?"

I grinned at him and shrugged. "Not so unusual for the Rohirrim, but these I did bring for a purpose." I hesitated, as the situation had become awkward with the passing of Sirrin. Finally, I admitted, "I intended them as gifts for the family of Imrahil of Dol Amroth. There is one for each family member."

Erchirion took my meaning first, and coughed nervously. At last, he looked directly at me, and suggested, "Perhaps…if you do not wish to keep the animal, that is, the extra horse might be given to Alcathir." His words made my intent plain and the others shifted uncomfortably.

Smiling at the lady in question, I answered, "A fine idea, I think. I would be honored if you would accept the mare I had intended for Lady Sirrin. It seems most appropriate for her to come to you."

My response brought hesitant smiles from the rest of the family, and I let out a ragged breath. Walking on pins and needles – that's what it was going to be like for the next few days, I was sure. Conversation turned to more innocuous subjects then, but we did not tarry long. I had had a long day, and I was certain they were not feeling much in the mood for entertaining anyone, even a friend.

xxx

I arose early the next morning, as was my wont, before the household was stirring. Cladding myself in a shirt and breeches, I strolled out to enjoy the garden and the rising sun. The sight of the sun's rays, glinting off the ocean, was a marvel to witness, and I leaned long on a wall overlooking the bay, drinking it all in. A noise behind me caught my attention, and I was instantly alert; old habits die hard, I suppose. When I turned it was to find Lady Lothiriel, eyeing me uncertainly.

I sensed she was on the verge of making a hasty exit, so I acted quickly to forestall it. "My lady," I grinned, offering a cursory bow. "I hope you do not mind my enjoying your garden, and the view." I gestured behind me toward the sea.

A slight smile tugged at her tense mouth, but she answered, "Not at all, my lord. My mother…intended her garden to be a source of pleasure for all." At the mention of her mother, she stiffened, and appeared to wrestle with her emotions, only just barely managing to subdue them.

To distract her thoughts, I said, "I wonder if I might impose on your hospitality even more, and request that you show me about the town later today? And you could introduce me to the seashore for the first time in my life."

My eyes pinned her in place when I felt sure she would otherwise flee. Various emotions crossed her face as she struggled with my request. I suspected that no one had pressed her before this to resume regular day-to-day activities, but I was convinced that the longer she hid herself away, the harder it would be to return to living her life. Finally, her native sense of protocol seemed to win out over her disinclination, and she nodded. "Of course, my lord. I would be happy to accompany you."

Not entirely the truth, I was certain, but it was sufficient that she had agreed. I was not much of a diplomat, but I did know how to get my way when I wanted to do so, and I would make good use of that talent in drawing Lothiriel from her womb of sorrow. I would not see her lost to despondency – that was one war in which I fully intended to come off the victor.

We stood in awkward silence for a moment, until I requested, "Will you show me about the garden? There are some flowers here I do not recognize. Perhaps we do not have them in the north."

She seemed grateful for the safe topic of conversation and nodded, gesturing to her right along a path that meandered through the entire garden. As we strolled, she had me point out any plants that were unfamiliar, and then she told me briefly of them. It took a while, but by the time we were almost back to our starting point, she had relaxed considerably. Smiling in my direction, she informed me, "It should be time for breakfast, if you are hungry, my lord."

A growling in my stomach answered before I could speak any words, and I gave her a sheepish look. "I suppose that response is plain enough. Please, lead the way." I offered my arm to her and she guided us inside, but I considered it a constructive interlude.

Over our meal, it was decided to take our tour of the town in mid-morning, as Lothiriel had household matters to attend to prior to that. Imrahil and his sons had other plans for their morning, so we were left on our own for the venture. At the agreed upon hour, I met Lothiriel in the entry hall. I had tidied my appearance, slipping a tunic over my shirt and tying my hair back. Lothiriel offered me a pleasant smile that did not particularly reflect in her eyes.

She did not want to be doing this – it was evident in every line of her posture. Seeing it, I almost faltered in my determination, but I knew it was for the best, and so I steeled myself against the prickles of self-reproach that threatened to undermine my efforts on her behalf.

She gestured toward the front doors and we exited out onto the terrace in front of the castle. Guards of both hers and mine were waiting there, and my eyes narrowed at the sight.

"Do we truly need guards attending us?" I questioned, hoping her answer would be agreeable.

She hesitated, then observed, "I have little doubt my father would consider you adequate protection for my safety, my lord, but I am not so sure if your people would think it wise for you to be out in public unaccompanied by a guard."

I considered this, then grinned at her. "Then I shall go armed and be your protection, and take only a single man of my own. Between the two of us, we should be able to ensure a secure outing!"

She smiled in consent to my plans, and I called to Walda, instructing him in Rohirric to follow us but keep a goodly distance to afford us privacy. I directed the servant at the door to send someone to my room for my sword, and we waited for his return a short time later, then set off.

Even without my height, Walda and I would be easily picked out in a crowd, if only because of our flaxen hair. I did not anticipate difficulty, but precautions were always wise, and until I married and produced heirs, my people would remain nervous about my facing danger. I could not complain overly much anyway, as I almost felt naked when I did not have my sword at my hip, so accustomed was I to its presence there. Walda quickly dropped back to trail some distance behind us, and though I caught occasional glimpses of him, he honored my directive quite well.

I had not been mistaken; the longer we wandered, the more Lothiriel's tenseness eased and she seemed to enjoy the outing. At first I needed to ask many questions to draw information from her, but gradually she took the initiative in sharing details of our surroundings, and suggesting places to visit.

I was a little surprised at her extensive knowledge about the industry of her homeland, but then she indicated her father had encouraged her involvement in matters of the kingdom, believing it would be useful to her even if she did not rule. During the War, when Imrahil had been absent and Elphir was in command, he had relied on his sister's assistance to keep things running smoothly.

Not wanting to focus too much on the War, for her sake as well as my own, I turned the conversation elsewhere, asking if we might locate some shops where I could find a wedding gift for my sister. I had already gotten the traditional gift of a sword, that I would pass to Faramir as a symbol of the transfer of Eowyn's care to another, but I wanted to surprise her with something else, something personal.

Lothiriel pondered my request for a moment, then alternatively suggested, "Perhaps we should find some dinner and visit the seashore before shopping, my lord. It will save you having to carry anything around with you until we return to the castle."

Her idea made sense and I allowed her to steer me to an outdoor stall selling seafood. Other than a bit of fish from the streams of Rohan, I was not acquainted with water-dwelling food, and I eyed it warily. Lothiriel confidently made selections for us, and then I carried our plates to one of the small tables not far away. She showed me the proper way to enjoy scallops and clams and batter-fried fish. Though hesitant at first, after my first taste, I ate with more enthusiasm. The food might look unusual to me, but the flavor was wonderful, and there was a glint of amusement in Lothiriel's eyes at my behavior. "I am pleased you like it, my lord! The bounty of the sea is one of our greatest assets in Dol Amroth."

After making sure Walda had eaten also, Lothiriel led me to the seashore and my first encounter with the ocean in close proximity. The nearer we had come to it, the louder was the roar of the water crashing on the beach. Lothiriel slipped off her shoes, bidding me to do the same, and I gestured for Walda to settle on the rocks and not bother trying to follow us. He could watch us well enough from that vantage point.

The sand proved difficult to walk in, until we got closer to the water where it was damp and packed. The tide rushing in and out made for precarious footing, that required a bit of attention to stay balanced. As we walked along the water's edge, Lothiriel told me lore of the sea, and stopped periodically to pick up shells or other flotsam on the beach for my examination. We even found a springy length of seaweed which caused me to marvel.

While I studied it, Lothiriel had wandered a short distance away from me, and was gazing out to sea. As I looked at her, her face took on a distant focus, and slowly, as whatever thoughts took her, she began to crumple right before my eyes. Tears began to slip down her cheeks and she let out a pain-filled gasp, choking with emotion. She wrapped her arms around herself as though to offer comfort that she could not find elsewhere.

I stood watching her weep, and wondering what I should do. When we were children, and Eowyn had grieved our parents, it had seemed perfectly natural to enfold her in my arms and hold her close. But Lothiriel and I were not children; indeed, we were virtually strangers. I did not wish to add to her distress with any untoward behavior that might alarm her, coming from someone with whom she was so little acquainted. But neither could I walk away. Though my mind whispered that was the best course – to leave her in her sorrow – I could not do it.

After a moment's more wrestling with my thoughts on the matter, I decisively stepped forward. The proper protocols be hanged! The woman needed solace, and she needed it now, from whoever happened to be present. I understood the ache inside her; I knew it intimately. As a boy, thinking myself too old to show weakness, I had struggled not to let others see my pain, thus shutting myself off from their consolation. My only respite had been in holding Eowyn, and thus taking comfort in return, though she did not know she was giving it.

Moving close to Lothiriel, I slowly turned her to face me, and pulled her into my embrace. If she was alarmed, she gave no indication of it. Her posture was perhaps tense for an instant, but then she melted against my chest and wept freely, as though flood waters long held back had suddenly been loosed. I was not consciously aware of what I was saying, but I believe I murmured soothing words as one hand cupped her head, and the other rubbed her back, until at length the storm passed and she stilled, save for an occasional hiccup or sniffle. And still we did not move apart. Having taken this step, I was committed to it, however long she required it of me.

I wondered, somewhat, at the strength of my conviction to aid Lothiriel's recovery. I could not say why exactly it mattered so much to me, though perhaps it had to do with a sense of obligation to her father. Imrahil had rescued Eowyn when she appeared lost; now was my opportunity to repay the debt. At that thought, my arms tightened around her, holding her safe.

At length, her composure slowly began to return, and along with it came a measure of embarassment for her show of emotion. Avoiding my eyes, she murmured strickenly, "I am so very sorry, my lord. Please forgive me!"

Quietly, I replied, "There is no need. Such sorrow must be expressed or it will fester inside, and you will not heal." I very much hoped she would not question how I had learned that truth. At this moment, I did not feel up to relating the experiences which had led me to such an understanding, but I knew it to be true all the same.

For a moment, she did not respond, but eventually nodded slowly in acceptance, then began to pull free of my embrace. Reluctantly I allowed her to do so, not entirely sure she should withdraw so quickly and, surprisingly, feeling bereft with the loss of her warmth.

We stood in silence, not meeting one another's gaze, both of us rather disconcerted by what had just been shared between us. "Your…your guard will wonder if we do not return soon. He cannot see us here." She was gazing back toward where Walda had settled on some rocks, and I turned to follow her glance, though I did not doubt her words.

"He is not the nervous sort. He will not be alarmed unless we are absent far longer than this," I murmured in answer. Then, flicking a look back out over the sea, I sighed and asked, "What was it you saw that…affected you?"

She gave me a stiff smile. "My mother loved the sea. Father sometimes teased her that she was not truly a woman, but a sprite come up out of the depths to seduce a mortal man!" At the look of surprise on my face, she laughed. "Do not be so amazed! Though you know the Prince and the warrior, there is much more to Imrahil of Dol Amroth! She loved him so! Whenever he would accuse her thus, she merely replied that she would gladly forsake the sea if it meant spending the rest of her days at his side. I think…I think she just did not expect those days to be so few." Her face fell again, as more tears slid down her cheeks, and I reached out to grip her shoulder supportively.

"None of us knows the length of our days," I commented, "but it sounds to me as though she made the most of what she was given."

She brushed at the tears still trickling from her eyes, but she smiled determinedly up at me. "Aye! Aye, she did!"

We stood in silence, side by side, staring out to sea, and then almost without my noticing, she began strolling back the way we had come, steering a course to safer ground. The lady might have been flustered by my friendly attentions to her, but you could not discern it in her bearing. She had recovered her composure and continued on as though moments before she had not stood wrapped in my arms as she wept. I suppose I should not have found that unexpected, considering she was the daughter of a prince, but I was not convinced the storm had passed and her troubles had ended. I would continue watching until I truly believed she had turned the corner on her grief.

TBC

Sirrin – "river queen"

Walda - from weald - "power"

FYI: There are some distances given between locations for LOTR, but not all. I'm figuring it took about 4 days for the trip from Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith by boat, and the Riders traveling overland took about 9 days. So having set out 6 days before Eomer did, they arrived the day before he did. (and thanks to Lady Bluejay for giving me a more realistic reckoning of the travel time by boat)

For this particular scenario, you'll have to assume the Fourth Age started in Sep, 3021 rather than in March as I usually have it. Shire Reckoning fixed the beginning of the Fourth Age to coincide with Frodo sailing to the Undying Lands in Sept. rather than the March reckoning Gondor tended to use.

Tuilérë

Spring holiday. Tuilere was a day between the months of March and April. It did not belong to either month. Tuilere and the autumn holiday Yaviere were added to the Revised Calendar of the Stewards' Reckoning created by Mardil in 2060. The Stewards' Reckoning was used in Gondor and other places where the Common Speech was spoken, but not in the Shire.

The colour of deepest mourning among medieval European queens was white rather than black. This tradition survived in Spain until the end of the fifteenth century, and was again practiced by the Spanish-born Belgian Queen Fabiola of King Baudouin's funeral. It was the custom for the Queens of France to wear deuil blanc or "white mourning".