Remember When It Rained

By Vendie

A Kitty-Chan Production

Author's note: The usual disclaimer applies – everything belongs to Tolkien and all that jazz…

This story is dedicated to my little sister.

Thunder echoed throughout the halls of Minas Tirith in the dark and dreary night. It was a storm loud enough to wake the dead from their eternal slumbers.

The great rumblings awoke Boromir, then ten years old, who had been soundly asleep for quite some time. The young heir of Denethor got up from his bed and went to the window. He peered out to see a storm raging. The rain fell like rocks falling from the heavens, and the lightning lit up the sky as if it were the day.

Boromir watched the storm eagerly. He loved thunderstorms. They reminded him of his earlier childhood when his mother would sit near the window with him during the rains and tell him stories of the great days of the race of men. But no more could his mother sit him in her lap and talk of such things. She was gone. Disappeared as stars and moon during such a night as this.

The young Boromir shook his head of his mournful thoughts and began to count the time between the flashes of light and the claps of thunder, but the lightning was so fierce that he was having difficulty keeping count. Suddenly, he heard the click of his bedroom door opening. He sprang from the window to his bed, fearful that his father had and would discover him out of bed. He closed his eyes tightly and waited for his door to close again.

"Boromir?" A meek and childish voice called through the darkness. Denethor's first son sighed with relief and sat up in his bed to see his younger brother at the door, clutching his baby blanket to his face, holding it just under his nose.

The blanket was an old and raggedy thing. It once was a finely sewn piece of their mother's handiwork, white and smooth. But Faramir had worn it so that it was now grey and holey. Yet the younger son of Denethor clung to it still.

"Faramir, it's only you." He said. "What are you doing up at this hour? Father won't be pleased if he catches you up late." Boromir warned.

"I…I could not sleep. The storm woke me." The five-year-old Faramir hiccupped. Boromir saw the tears in his brother's eyes.

"Are you frightened?" He asked.

"No!" Faramir defended quickly. Boromir smirked knowingly.

"Well then, shouldn't you be in your own bed trying to get back to sleep?"

Faramir looked as though he would burst out into sobs at the very thought of being sent away. His lip started to quiver as he began to debate on whether or not to admit his fright of the storm. Boromir saw the turmoil in his brother's face and instantly felt guilty.

"Oh, come. Climb into bed with me," he said, motioning for Faramir to come forward. Faramir silently obeyed, not once letting his blanket away from his mouth. Boromir helped his younger brother onto the bed and settled him under the sheets before snuggling down beside him.

"Do you still sleep with that thing?" Boromir asked, tugging at Faramir's blanket. The elder son thought that five-year-olds were to old for such things.

"It smells like mother." Faramir replied quietly, burying his face in the blanket at the sight of a great flash of lightning. "She used to calm me during storms with stories, but…" the young boy's voice trailed off and Boromir heard a sob from beneath the blanket. He hugged Faramir.

"I know, little brother." He replied comfortingly.

Some time passed before the little Faramir spoke again. His crying quieted and his sniffling stopped.

"Boromir?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"The storm."

"Faramir, the rain and thunder cannot hurt you. It is just water and noise. The lightning will not strike a stone building, and even if it does, it does not harm it. What is there to be scared of?" Boromir reasoned.

"I don't know…but it still scares me. I do not know why." Faramir replied sadly.

Boromir sighed. If his little brother would not see reason, how was he to even attempt to help? Again, her heard Faramir start to cry.

"Mother said that she would always protect me from things that frightened me. But now that she is gone, who will keep me safe?"

Boromir took the old and worn blanket away from his brother's face and ruffled his sandy-colored hair.

"I will, silly."

I'tela