And yet another post, in little over a month's time too. Not too much suspense I hope, probably not, you probably forgot about the story, right? Well, it's getting done, just passed the halfway mark, so just hang in a little bit longer.

But, um, this is longer than the previous chapter and not as intense. So, read, relax, and review. Enjoy!

For disclaimer see chapter one.

Oh, and thanks to Catmint for telling me about the n in Elladan, I thought I'd corrected it, but it's fixed now. No really, go look at chapter eight and it's fixed.

Well, here it goes.

Awkward Silence

Strider could not have known of the aftermath of the surprise attack nor of the nimble hands that swiftly worked to bring him back from the brink of death for he never regained consciousness after collapsing at his captain's side. Yestin, however, knew for he'd woken in time to see Strider fall to the ground. From what Yestin could see, as he lay on the ground, the young man had quite a nasty bruise near his jaw that would make talking and eating painful and a cut above his left eye which was dried shut by the blood the had come from the wound. He also took notice of the awkwardness of Strider's shoulder- something was not right about it. It was sometime later that his men finished off the last of rogues. Those who were able went to help with the main battle, but it was over before they got there; Geraint and his men had succeeded in holding off the onslaught of rouges coming from the village, while Bari's men had surprised the rouges with an attack from the side across the river. Having distracted the rouges, Romney and his small team of men were able to get into the town to rescue the men.

And now Yestin was lying on a rather soft bed, trying to suppress yawning as the idleness of the moment combined with the heat radiating from the fire in the fire place tried to lull him to sleep; he was losing horribly. In fact he was near sleep when there was a knocking at his door and startled, he sprung from the bed, his feet nearly collapsing under him for he was still very weak from the loss of blood he'd sustained yesterday.

But he quickly reached for the wall and steadied himself. Though his breaths still raced, he felt much better and was getting ready to sit down again when the knocking returned, followed by a voice saturated with worry and concern.

'Sir,' Yestin recognized the voice as Glynn's, their healer, 'are you alright?' All right? Sure, he mused, if all right is having stabs of pain shooting up your abdomen every time you move, causing your stomach to churn, at times quite violently. Yeah, then he guessed he was all right.

Yestin sighed as he sat, trying to quell the nausea that rose as he did so, though it was much better to sit, much less painful. 'Sir?' came the irritating voice again. Yestin had a rather healthy disdain for healers, even he could count them among his own.

'Come in Glynn.' The door burst open and in came Glynn with his pack of herbs, bandages, and other tools he carried to help treat wounds.

'Sir, you should not be sitting up,' Glynn went immediately to his captain, urging him to lie back down with a bit of force that Yestin was unable to resist for he suddenly felt weak and drained. 'You've probably broken a few stitches now, what with all of your moving about.' Glynn went to work, checking Yestin's injury and his own handiwork all the while mumbling semi-coherently about Yestin's lack of concern for his own health, 'It was a very serious injury, sir. When I found you, you'd lost a lost of blood already. It was a good thing that Strider tried to bind your wound; very nearly saved your life.'

Yestin gave a slight start at the mention of Strider. He hadn't seen the man since yesterday when he saw him lose consciousness. At first they thought he was dead, but then Yestin noticed that he still drew breath and Glynn had found a weak, yet consistent heartbeat. From what Glynn had told him early this morning, it was touch and go for a while and he didn't give much hope for a complete recovery, not with all of the injuries inflicted.

'Glynn,' the healer continued on with his mumbling, not hearing his captain. 'Glynn,' Yestin spoke louder with more aggressiveness. Glynn ceased moving.

'Yes, sir?'

'How is Strider? Has he regained consciousness yet?'

'Nay, not yet,' Glynn continued with his examination.

'And what of his injuries?' Glynn had informed him of the young man's injuries this morning: three deep gashes on his back; a bruise on his jawbone; a deep cut on his thigh; a few broken fingers; a concussion; and numerous minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises. All were fairly substantial and painful, but the worst had to be the broken collarbone; it was the right side, his sword side.

'They've all been either set or bound.' Glynn was short, obviously not wanting to reveal something. But Yestin knew better, even in his weakened state he could see past the healer's lies and evasiveness.

'What is it?' Glynn did not answer, but stopped his ministrations. 'Glynn, I know you're hiding something, now tell me,' Yestin demanded as he rose on his elbows.

'His shoulder wound,' the words flowed out like water rushing from a dam.

'You mean the broken collarbone. What about it? You set it correctly didn't you?'

'That's just the thing, sir. I don't know. The collarbone is the hardest to set, you never know if it's right until it's healed and then it's too late.'

'So, if it's set wrong...' Yestin prodded.

'He'll never be able to use it again. Not properly at least. He would have some strength in it...' Glynn trailed off, accepting Strider's loss as a personal defeat.

'But he'll never use a sword again,' Yestin finished. He cursed under his breath. 'He helps me, no he saves me from death and this is what he gets; the loss of his arm, forced to be lame for the remainder of his life. Cursed rouges.'

'Yes, sir,' Glynn, solemnly nodded as he rose from his place by Yestin's bed, grabbing his pack as he did so. He was finished with his examination, finding all of his stitches to be holding perfectly. With a bit of awkwardness about the sudden silence, Glynn turned to leave Yestin. He didn't need to bother telling his captain to get some rest for he knew that Yestin was fully aware that he needed to sleep, the only problem would be getting to sleep. Glynn turned as if he were going to say something as he left the room, but remained silent. Instead it was Yestin who spoke.

'Let me know when he wakes. I don't care if it's in the middle of the night, come in and wake me. And don't tell him of the collarbone, I will bear the bad news to him.' Yestin's voice was unusually sad, it would be a hard thing to tell the young man of his injury, but he felt that as his captain, it was his responsibility and his burden.

'Yes, sir,' came Glynn's sole acknowledgement of the request as he left the room, quietly shutting the door.

Yestin laid back down, but did not try to sleep. He knew he wouldn't, not even with the soft bed he had been given. There was no doubt the rest of his men were sleeping, all enjoying the hostipitality and gratitude of the people of the village they had saved for the majority of the rouges had been killed and those who still lived had fled as cowards from the battle scene.

The people had accepted them with nervous embraces at first until they realized that Yestin and his men were not there to pillage their homes. Then they showered them with hugs, kisses, and handshakes. He had been ready to collapse at that point, but still tried to ask for food and rest for his men. Shoun, the leader of the village, had stepped forth. He was a tall, young man, quite odd for a leader. But he was warm and friendly, nonetheless, giving orders to the villagers to give shelter to their rescuers and provide them with whatever they should require.

Yestin dimly recalled Glynn being the first to step forward, asking hurriedly for use of a large room where he could place all of the wounded for treatment. Shoun spoke quietly to a small, graying man next to him. Inana, as the man was called, led Glynn to the town hall, a large, single story building used primarily for meetings; connected to the large room by a hallway were several smaller rooms.

It was in one of those rooms that Yestin was now lying, trying not to doze on the soft bed that had been added to the room just moments before he was brought into it. He forced himself awake, for sleep was now standing, taunting him at his door, beckoning for him to follow it into the blissful void as it conjured up dreams and tales for him. He was drifting, but he didn't know it, allowing his eyelids to droop and his breathing to slow to a steady rhythm.

So he never did realize that the pain was beginning to fade as he fell asleep until he heard shouting in the distance. It was rather annoying, not to mention persistent and aggravating for he was in a deep slumber. Concentration broken, his mind began to pull itself back to reality, moving swifter as the intervals between the shouts decreased until he finally opened his eyes and found himself staring at the wooden ceiling above him.

'Captain!' the voice continued with the same intensity despite the fact that he was awake now.

'Glynn,' Yestin had known who it was even in his sleep, 'there is no need to shout, for I am now awake.'

'Pardon, sir, but you wanted to be woken when Strider regained consciousness.'

'And...' Yestin queried. Glynn stared at him for a second, before he realized that his captain was not totally awake.

'And he has. Regained consciousness, that is.' It took a few seconds longer for Glynn's words to register in Yestin's foggy mind, but as they did he jumped off the bed, regretting it instantly as he was overwhelmed by nausea and a tremendous stabbing in his head. He nearly collapsed from the sudden pain, but Glynn saw his knees weaken and begin to buckle, catching him before he fell. 'Easy, captain. You're not one hundred percent yet. Perhaps you should stay here, it would not be good if you were to fall seriously ill.' Yestin waited a second before answering; he was still trying to calm his breathing and swallow the acidic bile that had risen three-quarters of the way up his throat to the back of his mouth.

'No,' Yestin paused, 'I have to go. I must.' Glynn recognized the stubbornness in his captain's voice, there would be no swaying his mind.

'Yes, sir,' Glynn mumbled, 'but I shall help you. Collapsing on the way would not bode well for your injuries.'

'Alright,' Yestin understood the tone on the healer's voice and knew there was no room for counterargument. So with Glynn's help, Yestin slowly made it out of his room into the hallway where they turned left and walked past three doors until they reached one that was slightly ajar. Glynn pushed the door open, walking into the room while Yestin stood in the doorway taken aback by the young man's haggard appearance.

A damp cloth rested on his forehead, pushing his now stringy, wet hair off his sweat-coated face. As Yestin drew closer to the young man, he saw a hint of the bruise that marred the left side of his jaw; the entire bruise could not be seen for that side was facing the wall. Yestin swayed as another wave of nausea hit him and Glynn was instantly by his side guiding him to a chair that had just been set there by Inana, who turned out to be the village healer. Yestin gladly took the seat by Strider's side, looking nervously at the man, whose eyes were now closed.

'I thought you said he had woken,' he asked.

'He had, but he lost it again,' Inana spoke, his native tongue showing through the accent he spoke the ranger's Westron with.

'Shall I help you back to your room, sir?' Glynn asked.

'Nay,' Yestin waved him off, 'I'll stay here with him, wait for him to wake again.' Yestin turned to the two healers, 'Did he say anything?' Glynn looked to Inana, who shook his head.

'Earlier though he did mutter something about Peredhil and Imladris,' Inana spoke again, remembering the hour Glynn had spent tending to other patients while he stayed to watch Strider. His pronunciation of the words was harsh for he didn't recall them being Westron words, in fact he did not know of the language they came from. Yestin however did as did Glynn and both looked at one another, wondering if they were thinking the same thing.

'Do you suppose,' Glynn began, 'that is his secret?'

'Peredhil? It's possible. He does have some unusual talents and abilities for a man of his age. Though I would have never guessed it.' Yestin answered as Strider was beginning to come to again. Shrugging off the previous moment's thoughts, Yestin moved in closer to the young man, who slowly turned his head to meet Yestin's concerned gaze.

' 'estin?' Strider's question was almost inaudible due to the bruising on his jaw so Strider started to try again, but Yestin stopped him.

'Don't speak, you're not going to be able to for a few days, not until the swelling in that jaw goes done. You got a pretty nasty bruise on it,' Yestin paused a second, debating when to tell Strider about his shoulder. He must already know that something's wrong, unless he can't feel it. But he couldn't even convince himself of that, for the pain in Strider's expression was too great to miss. 'You were hurt pretty bad,' normally Yestin was a better orator, but he was off his mark today. Telling someone like Strider whom he'd come to think of one of his own, that he might never lift a sword again was hard. 'You got some nasty gashes on your back, and a deep cut on your thigh. Not to mention a few broken fingers and other minor cuts and bruises.'

' 'y 'oulder, 'ir,' Strider managed to ask. Right, the shoulder, Yestin reminded himself; he already forgotten about it.

'It's broken, the collarbone that is,' Strider looked at him nervously, his tired mind beginning to process the latest events. 'Glynn and Inana have done their best to set it properly, but we can't be sure that it's right,' Strider knew what that meant, but Yestin still continued, 'and we won't know until it's healed. Unfortunately, if it is wrong, it's too late to do anything. You'll lose most of your function in the arm.' Silence engulfed the room. Yestin was at a loss as to what to say; instead he turned to Glynn and Inana behind him.

'Would you give us a moment alone,' the two healers nodded in perfect unison as they rose and left the room; Glynn shut the door after one last glance at Yestin. He wasn't sure what Yestin was going to do and for that matter neither was Yestin. For a few moments the two didn't speak.

'I,' Yestin began, 'want to thank you for saving my life. That was a mighty brave thing to do.' Strider tried to speak, but Yestin put his hand up to stop him, 'I know you're going to be modest about it, but I want you to know how grateful I am...' Yestin trailed off, losing his nerve to talk to the young man whose future with them now hung precariously in front of them. In the silence, Yestin found himself staring at Strider's shoulder with what seemed like a morbid curiosity. He didn't really want to think about it, but felt drawn to the subject by Strider's pain filled eyes.

'I don't mean to scare you about your shoulder, but the collarbone is the most difficult to set. Half of the time they aren't set right, but I have faith in those two healers, especially Glynn. He's worked some real wonders. He probably has it set right, but he's so modest about his skills as a healer and never trusts in his own abilities.' Strider seemed a little more relaxed.

'Regardless of how it heals, though, you've earned my respect,' Strider straightened up a bit at the news despite his body's calling that he sleep once again. Yestin saw the tiredness creep into the young man's face, yet decided to continue. 'You have shown, during the past six months, to be both trustworthy and dependable. And the courage and honor you displayed during yesterday's battle have more than proven that you have the necessary skills to join the rangers and be called among their own,' Yestin paused, the man was growing tired and so he hurried through his explanation. 'You have completed the first step towards becoming a ranger, the second is your acceptance of the invitation. Don't tell me now, wait and think it over for the third step is the most difficult, more trying than anything you have attempted, but its rewards are far reaching and numerous. For now, though, rest and allow yourself to heal. We will have many opportunities in the future to speak and discuss your choice.' As Yestin finished, Strider's eyes finally slid shut and his breathing evened out until it was steady.

In the meantime, Yestin sat watching the young man, thinking about the day they found him, the look on his face as he tried to save Emlyn, and the questions about his background. Was he a Peredhil? Is that why he had such abilities and talents? Yestin mulled over these questions as he sat there, watching the strange, young man sleep.