A/N: Amazing what a rainy night will do for my creativity. Obviously, NOT part of the Chronicles.

I wasn't going to post this yet, but Willow-41z did something very nice and made me happy, so I'm taking it out on all of you! If you want an interesting read, go check out her story Reconciliation.

Storms

(Aug, 3019 III)

Rain hammered on the roof of Meduseld, almost as if the skies also wept for Theoden King, lost too soon. His sister-son, Eomer, now king of the Riddermark, sat upon the throne and stared gloomily at the shadows of the room laid out before him. One hand ran over the smooth wood of the throne's arm, as memories flooded through him of his uncle sitting here. At this moment, the Golden Hall did not seem all that golden. The weather aptly mirrored his mood, and he rubbed a weary hand over his face.

A sound to his left drew his attention, and honed instincts kicked in as he became instantly alert. Without thinking, he reached for the sword that did not presently hang at his hip. A rustle of fabric preceded the wearer into the firelight, and as the woman suddenly became aware of his presence when he shifted position, she gave a soft, startled gasp. Both visibly relaxed as they recognized one another, and gave weak smiles.

Silently moving to the fire pit in the center of the room, she began to warm her hands, and he rose to join her. As he came near, he inquired, "Did the storm disturb you?"

She shook her head and glanced at him with a smile. "I am well used to storms. Many such blow in off the ocean during the winter months. Actually, I find them rather soothing."

He quirked an eyebrow at the comment since the tumult raging outside hardly seemed to merit the description of 'soothing'. Apparently sensing his curiosity, she elaborated. "I remember as a young girl the first time I was truly aware of a storm. It was during the night and I became terrified, running to my father's room for comfort. To my surprise, though it was well into the night, he was not asleep, but sitting in a chair looking out the balcony doors at the storm. Tearfully I climbed into his lap, and he held me close. After a while, he explained that storms were not to be feared. He said that it was only the skies expressing some strong emotion, weeping for those who were lost or frightened.

"We sat there for some time and then I asked him if they had wept for my mother. He told me that they had, and that they had wept for me, who had lost her when I was so young and so greatly in need of her. And they had wept for him who had been left with a gaping hole in his heart. Somehow, his words were more comforting than he knew, and I never again was afraid of a storm."

He watched her profile in the firelight as she continued, "I think the rain is cleansing to the soul, like water to a wound. It washes away the dirt of pain and freshens us to carry on."

Lothiriel lapsed into silence and Eomer pondered her words. Perhaps, then, the skies were now, truly, weeping for Theoden, and for all those who mourned him. Perhaps they wept for Theodred also, who should have been here in Eomer's stead, taking up the throne of his father. He rather liked that idea; it almost seemed a tribute from nature to the Riddermark's lost heroes. A smile twitched at his mouth, and his heart suddenly felt far lighter than it had only moments ago.

"I believe I will return to my room now," Lothiriel commented, breaking his reverie. "I was feeling restless earlier, but it seems to have passed."

Offering his arm, Eomer asked, "May I escort you?"

She nodded and they moved toward the hallway. Eomer glanced at the woman from the corner of his eye. Imrahil's daughter was proving rather intriguing. Perhaps he would make the effort to get to know her better.

THE END

1/30/07