A/N: In doing research for this story, I examined what exactly Tolkien had written about those who left Edoras after the funeral. Consequently, I will be going back to The Adventures of Theodred and revising the chapter where he and Freahelm visit Isengard, to make it more canon-compliant.

As for this story, Tolkien clearly indicates that Eomer and Imrahil remained at Edoras while most everyone else left. For my purposes here, I need to alter that slightly, though I will largely keep to canon beyond that tiny point. "Storms", in its original form, is essentially the prologue. Chapter 1 of "Silver Lining" begins "the rest of the story".

Silver Lining

Chapter 1 (15 August, 3019 III)

His esquire brought Firefoot, and Eomer automatically began his usual routine of checking over horse and saddlery. He knew it had been done already, but it settled him to know for himself that all was well. As he moved around Firefoot to check the girth, he glanced up and caught a glimpse of Lady Lothiriel, standing in front of her tent and brushing out her long, ebony hair.

Though his fingers continued working, without conscious thought on his part, his eyes were fixed on the young woman. She was unaware of his gaze and her movements were unstudied as she finished the brushing, and began to braid the hair in a long single plait down her back. Almost of their own will, his hands twitched with a desire to bury themselves in that lovely silky fall, and the action brought him to himself with a jolt.

He should not be having such thoughts about his friend's daughter, and certainly not since he knew her so little. True, their conversation at Meduseld on that rainy night after the funeral had almost seemed intimate, but there had been no time to further acquaint himself with her. Guests and pressing matters of the kingdom kept him much occupied, and he very much suspected that it was not just the reasons he had given for joining this expedition, but also a certain lady that caused him to be standing here now. Yes, he did wish to visit the Westfold, and see for himself the situation and what needed doing for his people, and yes he did want to spend just a little more time with his friends before they each departed to their homes, not to be seen again until who knew when. His reasons were perfectly valid, yet…his eyes glanced again in the direction of Lothiriel's tent, but she had returned inside it. Swallowing hard, he firmly drew his mind back to the present. This was not the time nor place for such things.

Within a half hour, camp was struck and the large party was on their way once more, headed first to Helm's Deep. How different was this trek to the one made in haste several months before. While the danger of orcs and wargs was not entirely absent, it was greatly diminished, and they were able to move at a more leisurely pace. Much as it had during the funeral march for Theoden, placement on the road conformed to a person's importance, for the most part. Aragorn led the way, and Eomer rode beside him, along with Gandalf and Imrahil. The Elves tended to keep to themselves, traveling along beside the group of Men, Dwarves and Hobbits, close but not interacting a great deal. Though the Hobbits had been welcome to take a place of honor at the front also, they had preferred to align themselves farther back. Merry and Pippin were animatedly engaged in conversation with various friends they had formed, but Frodo rode in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself. Ever watchful, Sam rode alongside his master, casting concerned looks from the corner of his eye.

Originally, Eomer had intended to invite Imrahil and his family to remain longer at Edoras, but when they voiced their intent to accompany Aragorn to Isengard, and his parting with the Fellowship, Eomer had impulsively chosen to join them. Conversation was minimal among the men leading the way, though Eomer found his thoughts drifting far from his current surroundings. Two things seemed to vie for his attention: where they were headed, and those behind him in the procession.

He could not entirely keep at bay concern over what lay ahead, and his responsibility to contend with it going forward. Most of his life had been spent fighting to defend these lands, but he had never given much thought to the rebuilding process after a battle. As king, he now needed to consider such things, and make wise decisions on behalf of the Eorlingas.

Of a more pleasant nature were his thoughts about Imrahil's family. That was how he tried to categorize the random notions running through his head – that he was thinking of the entire Dol Amroth group. In truth, his mind lingered longest on the lone female in their midst. He rubbed a weary hand over his face. He was tired. The past months, even the past years, had taken a toll, and he very much wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet, and relax under a sunny sky with the company of a beautiful woman. There! He was doing it again – thinking of her. Surely it was only loneliness creeping in because of his tiredness. He had gotten far more rest since the end of the War, but still was not rested, and while Rohan's woes persisted, he did not think he would be for some time. The company of ladies could not, should not, be a priority in his thoughts.

"Eomer?"

He blinked, and looked to his left where Aragorn was eyeing him curiously. "I am sorry. Did you say something? My mind was elsewhere," Eomer confessed.

Aragorn smiled benignly and answered, "The problems will become no greater or less for the amount of time you dwell on them, my friend. Deal with them as they come, but do not let them constantly beleaguer you."

Eomer grinned. "King for only a few months, and already you are expert in such matters?"

Aragorn chuckled, and then shrugged. "We, both of us, will have to feel our way a very great deal, as we learn how to rule. At least I will have Arwen beside me, when the challenge becomes overwhelming. I am sure Eowyn will assist you as much as she can, until her marriage, that is." He left unsaid the suggestion that Eomer consider the matrimonial state as well, and Eomer refused to acknowledge the unspoken hint.

"Yes, I am sure Eowyn will be a great help. If anything, she has more experience than I do in the court of Meduseld. I will rely on her greatly, I am certain."

Aragorn kept an even expression, but did not pursue the matter. Eomer had always been strong-minded. He would do things in his own time and his own way.

xxx

It took several days for the large group to reach the Hornburg. Eomer had tensed the closer they came, and the sight of the battered fortress was discouraging. It seemed to symbolize the Riddermark in its entirety. How were they ever to recover from such devastation?

Legolas and Gimli rode nearer, on their shared horse, to join him, and Gimli loudly announced, "Not so bad, Eomer. Let me get a few Dwarves out here, and we'll have those walls mended in no time! The foundation is still sound, and though battered and scarred like its people, she still stands proudly."

Eomer blinked at the cheerful encouragement from his diminutive friend, then noticed Legolas smiling knowingly at him. "Now and then, he does say something worthwhile," the Elf observed with quiet amusement, too softly for the Dwarf, sitting behind him, to hear.

Eomer ducked his head to hide a grin, but was grateful for the hopeful assessment. He could hardly doubt that Gimli would be as good as his word in coming forth with aid for the rebuilding. And he would never again presume to underestimate a determined Dwarf!

By early afternoon, the group had reached the bottom of the causeway. Once again, the Elves elected to pitch their camp outside the walls, not liking to feel enclosed by stone or wood. The remainder of the group made their way inside, where Erkenbrand greeted them, seeing everyone settled in the rooms that had been salvaged as still usable. Temporary canopies had been erected over some of them, to deflect any summer rainshowers. Before winter arrived, they would need to get something sturdier and more permanent in place to keep out the cold and snow.

The company rested at the Deep for two days, before continuing on to Isengard. While they tarried, Legolas kept his promise to Gimli and went exploring in the Glittering Caves, and Imrahil's family had prevailed upon Eomer to give them a cursory tour of them without going so deeply inside. Always before, on the few occasions Eomer had ventured here, he had never paid much mind to the aesthetics of the place, but now that he was showing it to visitors, he looked with new appreciation upon the beauty there. While the Deep had proven a strong and dependable fortress, it was also pleasing to the eye.

"It is beautiful, my lord," a soft voice said from his right, and he glanced over to see that Lady Lothiriel had come up beside him.

The rest of her family was wandering the open chamber in which they stood, leaving the two of them near the entrance to it. Gazing at her, his thoughts shifted from the glitter of the cavern around him to the glint his torch cast in her hair and eyes. "Yes, very beautiful," he murmured in response, not really thinking of caves and stones.

Apparently, she recognized his remark was not directed the same as hers had been, for a pink blush tinged her cheeks. Looking quickly away, she inquired about the cave's history, and Eomer forced himself to draw his thoughts back to their location, and the presence of her other family members, as they moved farther into the cave.

xxx

In some respects, Eomer was glad to leave the Deep. He had enjoyed seeing Erkenbrand again, but beyond that his presence had largely involved assessing the damage, what needed to be done to restore the fortress, and being apprised of the situation around the Westfold through Erkenbrand's eyes.

Even so, he wasn't particularly looking forward to reaching Isengard. Too clearly did he remember the treachery that had emanated from there, resulting in the loss of those beloved by Eomer. The last glimpse he'd had of the place, after the battle at the Hornburg had been won, was not a pleasant memory.

As they drew near, the first thing that caught his eye was that the stone wall, which had encircled the place, had been torn down by the Ents, and now the land within was made into a garden, filled with orchards and trees. A stream ran through it, and off down the bordered path leading from where the gate had once stood, Orthanc now rose out of the midst of a clear lake. There were two tall trees standing like sentinels where the gate had been, and the company halted there to gaze in wonder at the changed scenery. Clearly the Ents had been busy to accomplish so much in so little time.

At length, Aragorn and the bulk of the party set off down the path to Orthanc, but Eomer lingered behind, not quite ready to approach it. Turning Firefoot over to his esquire, he strode off to stand among the trees, still gazing at the impregnable Tower of Orthanc some distance away.

His thoughts were muddled, but of one thing he was certain – they were all gloomy. This sight tore at him, like sharp claws of a wild animal, filling him with almost unbearable anger.

"I would imagine," a voice said quietly, from slightly behind him and off to his left, "that this place has different meaning and significance to you than it does to Gondor."

He did not need to turn to recognize the speaker as being Lothiriel, and why did that realization suddenly cause some of the tenseness to ebb out of him?

"Yes," he murmured softly, in response. "Here resided the evil that caused so much misery for my people…for me."

"But does it not lighten your mind to see that evil washed away? The Ents have turned this spot into a garden most lovely, and the darkness has been eradicated. Now this is a place of beauty and peace," she observed.

He gave a sigh, and turned to look at her. "Perhaps in time I can feel more as you do, but at this moment, I want nothing more than to tear that blight from my land, and see it utterly destroyed. While it remains standing, it will continue to be a constant reminder of what we suffered."

She smiled understandingly and laid a cool hand on his arm. "I do not blame you for that, my lord. I have heard the tales of Saruman's treachery, and I have seen what your people have lost because of it. But do try to let your heart be healed of this anger, so that you also may share in the newfound peace of Middle-earth."

They stood frozen, gazing at one another, and then Lothiriel stepped back, dropping her hand. "I should leave you in your solitude and rejoin my family," she said quietly.

Straightening, Eomer drew a steadying breath. "No. I will not tarry here, alone with my thoughts. I will accompany you. A man must confront that which most challenges him, if he is to come off the victor." He offered his arm to her, and she took it with a smile, as they moved to reclaim their horses.

Somehow, it was easier drawing nearer to Orthanc with Lothiriel riding beside him. As they reached the rest of their party, Quickbeam was just handing over the keys to the tower to Aragorn, the rightful owner now. The Ents invited them to linger, but all said that they must depart, with the exception of Legolas and Gimli, who set off to visit Fangorn Forest. The remainder rode on toward the Gap of Rohan with more speed.

Soon Aragorn and his group were taking their leave. At last it was time for farewells to be said, and Eomer could postpone it no longer. He must return to Edoras while the rest rode for Gondor, and Gandalf escorted the Hobbits and Elves on to Rivendell. It was with heavy heart he watched the two groups riding from the camp his men were preparing. Aragorn and Imrahil, Eomer could expect to see again; in the near future, actually, when he went to Minas Tirith for Eowyn's wedding. But when he might see his Hobbit friends once more, he could not say.

Sleep did not come easily that night, as the sights he had glimpsed across the Riddermark over the course of their travel haunted him. Only when the lovely image of a certain woman of Dol Amroth floated into his thoughts did he find rest for a few moments.

xxxxx

Too soon. Winter was already upon them and there was still so much to do. There had been almost a frantic race to find adequate shelter for everyone who had lost their home, and to establish food supplies that would see them through the winter months. Gondor had been of help there, sending large supplies of grain and other foodstuffs to supplement what little they had been able to salvage or produce in such a short time. Clothing had also been sent, and that was also greatly needed. Eomer did not like the idea of accepting such charity from their neighbors, but Eowyn had persuaded him they could not make do without the assistance, just as Gondor would not have survived without the aid of the Rohirrim in battle. That made his mind a little easier on the subject.

The brightest spot in his existence of late, with all that pressed upon him, were the letters from the South. Little more than a month after Aragorn had departed, the first one had come, in a packet from Dol Amroth:

My lord king,

I wished to take a moment, since Father is sending correspondence to you, to thank you for your kind hospitality on our recent visit. I know it must have been difficult for you, considering the circumstances, but you and Lady Eowyn managed well. I hope you are finding solutions to the many problems your people face, but also that you personally are finding some relief from the duress you are under at present. I know from experience with my father that you will never be entirely free of it, yet still I hope you might find moments when you may laugh with friends, and enjoy the sunshine on your face as you ride across the plains of the Riddermark.

Again, thank you for all you did to see to our needs while we were visiting. Perhaps one day you will come to Dol Amroth and we may return the goodwill.

Regards,

Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth

The letter itself had been insignificant, and yet a thrill had shot through him when he realized who was the author. Nothing in her missive required a response from him, but he had been unable to suppress the urge to reply to her. Not wishing to appear overly eager to correspond with her, he had delayed sending the letter until nearly a month later, when he could resist no longer.

Lady Lothiriel,

You are too generous with your gratitude. I fear you did not see Rohan, or Meduseld, at its best, and I hope that one day you might consider returning, in less melancholy circumstances.

The difficulties here continue, but Gondor's beneficence has been most helpful in that regard, and it appears we will manage the winter. I am sure our tables will be rather lean for some time, but the Rohirrim are a hardy people and we do not yield to such privation.

As to your wish to extend Dol Amroth's hospitality to me, I would very much wish to take advantage of the offer, though I do not know when that might be achievable. Your father and brothers talked much of their home, and I should like to see the sea for myself if the occasion arises where it is feasible. Do not rule out the possibility that I will one day appear on your doorstep.

At any rate, I thank you for your correspondence. It brightened my day to receive it. I have not entirely been able to set aside the gloom you witnessed, but I well remember your encouraging words, and am endeavoring to put it behind me for good.

Warmest regards,

Eomer King

He had not been completely satisfied with his letter-writing attempt. It had seemed much too stiff and formal, and he had never felt like that when in her actual presence. Something about her was warm and inviting, and he had spoken more freely with her than with any other woman of his acquaintance, aside from his sister. Still, Eowyn was wrapped up in her own thoughts and feelings, both about Theoden's death and her own betrothal. Lothiriel had…as an uninvolved bystander, she'd had the leisure to look closely at him, and see more deeply into his soul than he had ever intended anyone should. At least, that was how it seemed to him. Her observations had been to the point, and touched on precisely the matters upon which his mind dwelled. But, moreover, she seemed to understand what he was feeling, and her quiet, peaceful manner was soothing as nothing else had been since the War. Had there been a reasonable way to accomplish it, he would have kept her in Edoras far longer.

When he sent his response to her letter, he had not expected that she would write again. He knew his last few lines had perhaps hinted that he would not be averse to hearing from her a second time, but he had not allowed himself to hope that she would pick up on that and heed it. He had misjudged her in that respect, and within a fortnight, in the very next packet from Dol Amroth, there was another letter in the pretty hand he readily recognized. There were others in the room when he opened the packet and found it amongst the other missives, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from retreating immediately to his study to read it privately at that very instant. Instead, when no one was looking, he slipped it in his shirt. It took over half an hour to find an excuse to be alone long enough to peruse its contents.

Eomer King,

I was delighted to receive your answer to my letter. I had not dared hope that you might find time to respond, but it was most pleasant to hear from you. If you have no objections, perhaps I may be so bold as to ask your permission to write an occasional line to you, to send my best wishes and inquire after the situation in Rohan. I will, of course, not expect you to take time in your busy schedule to answer my silly communications, but perhaps they will at least bring a smile to your face for a moment, and lighten your day's load ever so slightly.

She had gone on to describe her homeland, the sea and Imrahil's castle. The letter extended a full three pages, and he got it read through twice before he was interrupted and had to return to his duties. But the words of it lingered in his mind, and a grin twitched at his mouth more than once, for no apparent reason. At the risk of seeming over-eager, he had sat down that very night as soon as supper was finished, and began his response. The prospect of further correspondence made the task more challenging to him. His first letter had been polite and formal, but this extended communication suggested he could perhaps change that to something more…friendly.

However, he wasn't entirely sure how to go about effecting that change. Surely there were protocols to such things, and he was woefully uninformed on them. He could have asked Eowyn for guidance, but he was unwilling to make this foolishness of his known, and he preferred to keep this activity private, at least for the time being.

He supposed the first step was to try and eliminate some of the more formal language in his letters, and see if that encouraged her to follow suit.

My dear Lady Lothiriel,

It was indeed an unlooked for pleasure to receive your letter. I am astonished that you wish to correspond with me further, as surely I am not the best in writing letters. I have always been a man of activity, and spent most of my time out of doors. Indeed, I am amazed you are even able to make out my scrawlings sufficiently to interpret the words! But, if you are willing to endure such punishment, I am delighted to indulge you.

Unfortunately, I do not know that my letters will prove of much interest. While I thoroughly enjoyed hearing you write of your homeland, and felt as though I was standing beside you and seeing it for myself, words do not come so easily to me. I deeply love my country, there is no question, but I feel unequal to expressing that on paper, or even really in words. This land has always been a part of me, for as long as I can remember, and I have never desired to live anywhere but on its rolling plains, in the shadow of its sturdy mountains. I love every rock, tree and stream that inhabits its boundaries, and I have fought with all the strength I possess to defend her. Even the burden placed upon me as her king is not more than I am willing to bear in her behalf. I know the road ahead of us is long, and will be difficult, but I will see Rohan rebuilt to what she once was. I will see her people thrive once more, and live in peace – without fear. I only hope that it will not take too long to achieve.

But, surely, that is not the sort of thing you wish to hear about, though I do not know what else to mention. Eowyn is well, and eagerly anticipating her wedding in the spring. I suppose that is when I will again see you and your family, as I presume you will join us in Minas Tirith for the happy occasion. Your cousin seems a good man, and certainly he has brought my sister a joy I feared she would never find.

Ah well, I must close as I have run out of things to say, but I do hope the brevity of my response will not discourage your staying in touch. I do very much enjoy hearing from you, and reading whatever you wish to tell me of Gondor.

Eomer

He had reread the letter a dozen times before finally sending it, and then, once it was gone, feared that it had been too informal with someone he knew so little. He had been on edge until her reply came, and he found no censure in it, or even a hint of displeasure.

Lord Eomer,

I am relieved you are willing to indulge me in this letter writing venture I have proposed. I feared greatly that I might be imposing upon your good humor, and I hope you are not feeling the need to tolerate me for fear of offending my father. In truth, he does not know that I write to you, for I was too embarrassed to admit it. I think he believes it is Eowyn with whom I correspond, and I have made no effort to correct that misimpression.

Should you ever be disinclined to continue, I do hope you will feel free to say as much, and I will not be hurt or offended if that is the case. I am sure your days are filled to capacity, and likely the last thing you wish to do is idle away time writing to some silly girl in Gondor. You are very kind to humor me. I confess I find your people and your land fascinating. Other than to Minas Tirith, I have little traveled from home, and so journeying far to the north was quite an adventure. And then to actually see the places which are now a large part of our recent history – Meduseld, Helm's Deep and Isengard. I know that for you the latter places have some painful memories, but I hope you will also remember the good of them – that Helm's Deep withstood the onslaught, and that the evil of Isengard was washed away. Meduseld may stand all the more proudly because of those accomplishments.

And, if I may be so bold, I would tell you that you are not at all inadequate with words, at least not when it comes to expressing your love of country. I was greatly moved as I read what you had written. Perhaps because I am a woman, and have never fought to defend my home, I have never considered it in such a way. Your words inspire me to look more closely at my homeland, and my place in it, but more importantly they inspire me to serve so willingly as you do. My duties as the daughter of a Prince are far more insignificant than what you are called upon to do, but that does not mean I may not put forth my best effort within my sphere of influence.

Our correspondence has inspired me in another way – I have begun searching our libraries for books that tell of Rohan's history. Sadly, I find they are few and far between, and there is not a great deal to be found. The greatest space is devoted to Steward Cirion's gift to Eorl of the Riddermark lands. It seems a shame that your history is not widely known. Perhaps I will need to champion the cause of having it put down on paper for the eternities. I think I could find a willing benefactor in King Elessar, for he seems to be a man who understands the value of both the Eorlingas and history. Maybe when I am next in the White City I will petition him on the matter.

In the meantime, anything at all you wish to tell me of your people, I will gladly hear it. Just as you said you felt as though you were standing beside me, seeing with your own eyes as I described Dol Amroth, I felt much the same as you spoke of Rohan. The rolling plains were vastly different than the pounding of the surf which is most familiar to me, and yet the scope and majesty of them is not unlike the sea. My appreciation for them deepened, though, when seen through the fond gaze of your eyes. You had mentioned the possibility that I might one day make a return visit to your country, and I should very much wish to do so. Perhaps then I will have more time to spend exploring it and meeting your people.

Until then, words on paper will have to suffice, and I thank you again for your indulgence.

Lothiriel

She, too, had dropped some of the formal tone from her missive, and over the next few months, they had ceased using titles and simply called one another by their given names. He almost hadn't noticed when she had ended a letter with more than her usual signing of her name, including the word "fondly" before it. Only on the second reading had the word jumped out at him, and his stomach lurched. Could there be significance in her use of that word, or was it merely a friendly term. Ladies were more inclined to express such things than men, and perhaps she had thought signing only her name to be too cold. And, yet, he could hope there was more meaning to it than that.

Eomer blinked as that thought struck him. More meaning to it? What meaning did he wish it to have? Even as he asked himself that question, he knew the answer. The attraction he had felt toward her while she was in Rohan for Theoden's funeral had only been intensified by their correspondence. Part of him still thought he should forget about such matters at present, and focus solely on helping the Riddermark recover, but wasn't acquiring a wife and queen a positive turn in that direction? A wife who could eventually provide him with an heir? Would not that be a very good thing for his people, in fact cheering news amidst all the bleakness of their current struggles?

He leaned back in his chair, tossing her letter on his desk as he let out a heavy sigh. It felt so selfish, and yet he truly believed that he would be happier if he had a loving bride, and if he were happier, wouldn't that make him a better king for Rohan? He scrubbed at his face with his hands, letting out a growl of frustration. How to decide such a thing? Rohan might wish to see him married, with a queen and an heir, but that did not necessarily mean they would desire a Gondorian to be that queen. Despite the renewed friendship between the two lands, there were still some old grievances, and even if there were not, many were likely to think a bride from the Riddermark a better choice regardless.

Eomer was going to have to do some hard thinking on this matter. They would return to Minas Tirith in just over a fortnight for Eowyn's wedding, and he would see Lothiriel again. She had assured him she was looking forward to the reunion. In all honesty, he was also. If he truly held romantic feelings for her, that would be the time to pursue them, to see if she might be similiarly inclined. Before they passed onto the Pelennor, he needed to know his intentions toward the lady.

TBC