“A whole tree of lightning stood in the sky. She kept looking out the window, suffused with the warmth from the fire and with the pity and beauty and power of her death. The thunder rolled.”

“He raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night. The fire faded to sullen embers. Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall before the blackened hearth.”

“Livia stood and looked out the window. Her own eyes stared back at her. “We need to pray. Cole, say some prayers for us. Please. Healing prayers.” Livia kept her eyes on her reflection.”

“Lightning struck, the sky roared, and the night cried a giant's tears, thunderous and inconsolable.”

“But the roaring of the fire,And the warmth of fur,And the boiling of the kettleWere beautiful to her!”

“Here he stood. Here he sat. Here he knelt. Here he lay. Here he moved, to and fro, from the door to the window, from the window to the door; from the window to the door, from the door to the window; from the fire to the bed, from the bed to the fire; from the bed to the fire, from the fire to the bed.”