Hey, I'm back. Sorry about the long wait on the update, but I'm in college now and finding time to update isn't all that easy. But to reward those of you who have stuck around and to celebrate the one year anniversary of this story, I'm posting a thirteen page chapter and am going to try my hardeset to finish this story up by Christmas and still stay on top of my school work, should be an interesting semester; the story really shouldn't have gone on this long. But I hope you all read, relax and enjoy. Oh and don't forget to review.

Please forgive any errors, I was trying hard to get this up tonight so I didn't do my usual three edits. Oh and for the disclaimer, because I don't own LOTR, see chapter one. Thanks.

The Beginning of the End

He raised his sword high, preparing to bring it down on his opponent in one fluid motion, but his strike was parried and his sword effortlessly shoved aside. As he moved his sword back into position for another strike, he dodged a thrust aimed for his chest, his own sword lightly grazing the other in a mild attempt at blocking the move. He knew his concentration was slipping, he needed to focus. As he and his opponent stood, waiting for the other to move while plotting their next move, he closed his eyes, channeling all of his efforts into the battle before him; it was imperative that he win.

His breathing slowed and his mind cleared as he willed all of his energy into his sword arm. The battle was taxing it; he could feel his muscles strain as he gripped his sword even tighter; his opponent was moving. A shadow came over him as he opened his eyes, raising his sword as he did so for he knew that when he opened his eyes his opponent would be standing before him, sword ready to kill. But as the blade came down, he raised his own up, effectively blocking the shot. And as he shoved the sword out of his way, he took one hand off his and grabbed the dagger in his boot, shoving it up towards his opponent's throat. Seeing his defeat, his opponent fell to his knees, dropping his sword as he did so.

All eyes in the camp were set on the fight in the center; one of their own dueling with another of like skill, but there was no animosity against this stranger. In fact it was the stranger that garnered their support and cheers, for this stranger was Strider and it was with Yestin that he was dueling.

The two looked at each other for a moment longer until the adrenalin wore off and Strider realized that he still had his dagger pointed towards his captain's throat. He calmed his thoughts, pushing away the ones that told him to kill the man that knelt before him. Yestin too relaxed as Strider pulled the dagger away, placing the sharp blade in its holder; he did not fear knives, but having one so close to your throat is enough to put you on edge. Strider sheathed his sword and offered his hand to help his captain to his feet. Yestin took the hand and rose to his feet; he was not ashamed of his defeat by Strider.

'Well done Strider,' a voice from behind Yestin said. The captain turned to find the source, it was Romney and he was handing him his sword.

'Yes,' Yestin agreed as he took this blade and sheathed it, 'very well done.'

'Thank you sir,' Strider glanced down, worried about his actions in battle. 'I'm sorry didn't meant to get so into it. I didn't even realize...'

'Don't worry about it,' Yestin interrupted Strider. 'How is your arm?' The change of topic was abrupt, catching Strider off guard.

'Fine,' Strider spoke quickly. It had been nearly three months since the battle in the clearing and three months since finding out about his shoulder. Both men gave Strider a look, they could see past his lies.

'Don't lie Strider. I could see you favoring it during our duel,' Yestin chided the younger man. Strider glanced down again, sighing as he did so. It was true, his arm ached and his shoulder throbbed with pain from swinging his heavy sword.

'Come, Strider,' Romney said when Strider did not answer, 'let's go take a look at that arm. You've got to be ready for tonight.'

'Aye, sir,' Strider perked up slightly at the mention of tonight when he would take the third step in becoming a ranger. He followed closely behind Romney as Yestin's first led him to the outskirts of the camp. Yestin followed at Strider's side.

A few weeks after the battle, when the majority of Strider's wounds had healed, Yestin began working with him. At that point Strider could not hold a sword and Glynn would have forbidden it anyway, but there were still some things they could work on to keep Strider occupied until he was able to practice with his sword. And just over a month ago, Glynn allowed Strider to begin practice with his sword. They started out lightly at first and then progressed until their sessions grew to last for hours. Today was the final test, to see if Strider was prepared and if his arm was strong enough yet.

'Put out your arm,' Romney held out his arm as an example. 'Let me take a look at it.' Strider held out his arm, a little shocked at being there already. He didn't really care what they said about his arm, he was going to continue on with the third step. Yestin hadn't told him much about it other than it was more than anything that he had ever endured in his life and that it would be the ultimate test of his abilities; the deciding factor in his quest to become a ranger. And he would not put it off for another day; his arm however disagreed as a sharp pain shot up through it into his shoulder. Romney stopped his prodding when he heard Strider wince and felt him pull back.

Strider did not realize that he'd showed any sign of pain until Romney called to him.

'Strider,' Romney tried to pull the man from whatever daydream he was having back to reality. 'Strider, what is it that hurts?'

'Huh?' Strider mumbled as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. 'Nothing, it's fine.'

'Try again,' Yestin prompted. It was clear that he wouldn't tolerate this sort of thing.

'Honestly, sir, its nothing,' Strider defended again. Yestin sighed, the kid was determined all right; it would be tough to prove that he hurt.

'Ok, then put your arm out again.' Strider reluctantly put his arm out. 'Now raise it above your head,' Strider moved it up slowly, biting his lip as he felt a slight twinge in his shoulder. Yestin saw the look of discomfort and knew he was close to his goal; it wasn't that he wanted to hurt Strider or to see him in pain, just ensure that he was in peek physical condition for the third step. 'To the side now,' Strider lowered his arm to the side. His stoic look broke suddenly when the sharp pain returned with an intensity that forced him to grab his shoulder and bend over in pain. Yestin was immediately by his side.

'Where does it hurt?' he put his hands on the young man's good shoulder to help steady him.

'Shoulder,' Strider managed to get out as he tried to recover from the shock of the pain.

'The bone?' Yestin asked.

'And muscle.'

'All right, Romney go get Glynn,' Yestin didn't bother to turn as Romney left to get the medic, instead keeping his focus on Strider. 'Strider, have a seat,' he helped the younger man to sit down on the grass. 'I'm afraid that that battle might have done some damage to your shoulder. It is still healing and won't be back to perfect right away.'

'It's been three months sir,' Yestin was taken off guard by Strider's voice, he hadn't expected him to talk, 'it's healed all that it's going to. We both know that, it wasn't set right and now I'm stuck with this shoulder.' Yestin sighed; he knew that Strider was right. Glynn hadn't set it right, but he didn't blame the healer, he'd done his best. Strider was pretty lucky to be alive and standing right now considering all of the wounds he had. It was a matter of sheer will, though, that drove Strider to this point; he was determined to become a ranger, to belong once again.

Yestin was startled out of his thoughts when Glynn knelt beside him. The healer set to work immediately.

'What happened,' he asked to no one in particular.

'After our duel,' Yestin began, 'I tested his shoulder to see how it reacted to the movement and he suddenly doubled over in pain.'

'Can you move it at all,' Glynn asked Strider, who had now released his arm and was listening to the conversation between his captain and the healer.

'Yes, it doesn't hurt that much now,' Strider pulled back as Glynn began to prod the wounded shoulder; it was still tender to the touch.

'What is it that hurts,' Glynn inquired as he continued his ministrations despite Strider's apparent reluctance towards being touched.

'The bone and muscle.'

'How did you move it that made it hurt?' Glynn was trying to pin point the source of the problem.

'To the side.'

'Can you do it again,' Glynn asked. Strider hesitated at first, remembering the pain he'd felt earlier. But he had to do it, to get back to normal he had to do it. Slowly he raised the arm to the requested position, biting his lips as the pain increased. He began to shake as the pain increased. Glynn prodded the shoulder even more, feeling around the bone that had been broken; it didn't feel right. He knew what was wrong and he was sure that Strider knew as well. The shoulder was completely healed, only it had healed wrong and now the arm was weak. Strider could exercise it all he wanted, build up the muscle, and the pain would still be there as would be the weakness.

Glynn dropped his arms, slightly depressed; he'd never failed before. He nodded to Strider, telling him to put his arm down. The young man breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his shoulder to relieve the pain.

'What's wrong,' Romney asked as he stood behind Glynn and Yestin. The healer gave no answer, but he didn't have to for Strider volunteered the information.

'The shoulder's healed wrong. Nothing that happened because of the dueling, it was set that way,' Strider looked at Glynn. 'I don't blame you. I know you did your best.'

'How'd that happen,' Romney tried to understand, 'he's able to use the arm. Doesn't that mean everything's okay?' Glynn sighed; he worked mostly with people who understood the workings of the body so he often forgot that Romney was not as knowledgeable about the body.

'Sure he's able to use it. I never said that he wouldn't, just that there would be pain and it would be weak,' Glynn explained. Romney gestured with his hands, waiting for more.

'What he means is that I'll never be able to fight like I did before. I'll always be dealing with the pain and weak feeling in it.' The four sat in silence for a moment until Strider began again, 'I'd still like to continue with the third step tonight,' he told Yestin, who turned to Glynn.

'There's nothing we can do about the shoulder. He might as well continue with the process tonight. He can't harm it anymore by doing so.' Yestin looked at Strider and then at the ground. Despite the healer's reassurances, he wasn't sure about putting Strider through it tonight; he didn't want the young man to fail for he'd never get another chance. Perhaps another night would be better.

'Don't try to sway my mind sir,' Strider read his thoughts, 'I want to go through with it, you and I know that now or next month nothing will have changed. It'll still be as weak as it is today.'

'All right then,' Yestin sighed as he stood to leave, he knew Strider's mind was made up, 'I will begin to make preparations for tonight. I will send for you when everything is ready. Romney,' Yestin turned to his second, 'come with me.' The two left leaving Glynn and Strider in silence. It was Strider who spoke first.

'Do not worry, I know what I am doing,' he told his friend. During the past three months, Strider had gotten to know Glynn pretty well and no longer harbored feelings of mistrust or nervousness towards the man and in return Glynn had expanded on his already extensive knowledge of herbs and plants used for healing. 'This is something I have to do; I have to prove that I can do it, for myself and for...' Strider trailed off, not wanting to continue and Glynn did not pressure him to, he knew the man's limits; how far to push him.

'I know, but I don't think you understand what you're getting yourself into. We're a hated people, Strider. We're outlaws, bandits, once you don the green cloak of a ranger, you'll never be accepted again; never enter a city without glaring eyes and whispers behind your back. In an instant all that was open to you will be closed to you and you'll be forced to live on the move, you can never live in a village or town, you won't fit in, your neighbors will hate you. It's the cloak.'

'Then I'll take it off when I enter a village. People won't know,' Strider retorted. Glynn shook his head, exasperated.

'You don't understand. You have an entire life ahead of you and you've got some great skills. Why don't you find a nice young lady somewhere and settle down, have a family. You surely won't find a woman out here.'

'How then do the rangers continue their bloodlines? You are a descendent of a ranger, are you not?'

'Yes,' Glynn answer, that was true. His father was a ranger as was his father before him. It was a tradition in the family, but to be honest he didn't really know how his father courted his mother. He'd never met a woman he could even come close to liking.

'Well, then I'll find a woman out here, if I want to. I don't even know I want to have a family. But if I do, it'll work out, somehow. I don't know how right now, but it will. All I know is that tonight I'm going to continue with my journey to become a ranger and that's my final decision.' Glynn looked at his younger friend for a second before rising to his feet. Strider didn't really know what he was getting himself into, but it wasn't his youth that blocked his sight, that was the way it was supposed to be. But he couldn't say anything more, all he could do now was leave Strider to think about what might come tonight, what surprises would be in store for him and so he left, wordlessly, leaving Strider still sitting on the ground, unconsciously still rubbing his shoulder though the ache had long since faded into memory.

Strider sat there, unbothered by anyone in the camp, for hours. He couldn't recall exactly how long he has been there nor could he remember what he was thinking about either. It didn't really matter, he supposed, for he had no duties anymore and therefore could afford a moment or two of complete relaxation. He didn't even recall that he was to begin the third step tonight until Romney came to him, breaking any thoughts he was having at the time.

'It is time, Strider,' Romney's voice was unusually void of emotion. Instead he stood stoically before the resting man and didn't even bother with more than a moment's glance towards him.

'Aye,' Strider stood, waiting for Romney to speak again. He looked around at the camp; the sun was giving off a red glow as it sunk beneath the horizon. Strider estimated that there was about a half hour left before the sun set and another twenty or forty minutes before darkness fell over them.

'Yestin waits for you,' Romney turned. 'Follow me.' He started walking away, not seeming to care whether Strider followed him or not. But follow him, Strider did. His laziness had quickly worn off and he was now focused entirely on the tasks before him, what was to come. As they approached Yestin, Strider noted the way he stood; he had the same stoic look as Romney did. His hands were behind his back, one resting in the other's palm. The rest of the men sat in a circle around him, the fire in the middle danced in their eyes.

Romney stopped a few feet before he reached the circle and beckoned for Strider to stand at his side. Silence engulfed the campsite as everyone's attention was diverted from the fire to the two of them. Strider looked down now, embarrassed by the sudden attention he was receiving.

'Strider,' Yestin broke the silence. His voice was gruff and commanding, but he didn't have to say anything more, Strider understood that he as being called to the center of the circle. The men in front of Strider made a passageway for the young man to walk through. When Strider arrived in the center of the circle, Yestin gestured for him to stand before him.

'Three months ago,' Yestin began when Strider stood in front of him, 'I gave you an invitation; I invited you to join the rangers and you accepted. As a result of that acceptance you will begin the third phase tonight. Now it is tradition that it begin on the first night of the new moon, when all is dark. At the conclusion of this meeting you will be given a vial, the contents of which you will drink immediately. The potion in the vial will induce a state of unconsciousness in you for approximately three hours at which time you will be bound, blindfolded, and taken deep within these woods,' Yestin pointed to the forest to the side of him. 'The rangers have kept these woods secure for the past three hundred years, many go in it, but only true rangers come out of it. There are many secrets in these woods, many surprises and foul beasts. They stay there, a pact made long ago with the trees, for the elves taught them to speak and so this is now the testing ground for all rangers. Your task is to make it out in three days time. In that time, you must make it out here, to our encampment and report to me, at which time you will have completed the third phase. Do you understand?' Yestin asked.

'Yes sir,' Strider answered.

'Then take this vial,' Yestin held a vial, filled two-thirds of the way with a blue liquid. Strider took the vial, holding it for a second as he gazed at the liquid, 'and prepare to endure the Ordeal of the Rangers,' Yestin concluded. With that, Strider uncapped the vial and downed the contents of it.

After that, the circle broke and the ceremony was ended, leaving Strider and Yestin standing in the middle.

'You should go prepare your pack,' Yestin stated, 'the potion will begin to take effect in about twenty minutes. When you are finished, return to me here and we will continue with the preparation.' Strider walked quickly over to his back and began to put his things in the woolen sack he had received nearly nine months ago when he was found by Yestin in the cave. Twenty minutes was more than enough to gather his belongings.

When Strider had finished he stood, not yet feeling the effects of the potion. In fact he had never felt better as he walked to the center of the camp to where Yestin stood, waiting for his return. As Strider came closer, he saw that the stoic expression on Yestin's face had not changed and he doubted that it would for Yestin was not his friend now, but his captain.

'The purpose of this stage is to test your ability to be a ranger, you will face many perils and struggles should you become a ranger, therefore it is imperative that we know that you are capable of surviving in the worst of situations and battling the worst of enemies. Thus, you are not permitted to bear your weapons into this challenge, rather you will leave them here under my safeguarding,' Trahaeron and Traherne approached Strider from either side, ready to take the young man's weapons. Strider did not hesitate in removing them for he understood the importance of such a disability. 'And I cannot allow you to take your pack with you.' At this Strider hesitated, but held out his pack to Yestin nonetheless. Yestin took it quickly and continued with his explanation, 'You should go to Glynn now; the potion will begin to take effect shortly.'

Strider nodded though he did not feel anything yet, but sought out Glynn as he was directed to do. He found the healer sorting through his supplies, checking his stores of healing herbs and plants. To his side, he had laid out a blanket and set a pillow at one end.

'Ah, Strider, you're here,' Glynn didn't bother to look up. 'I have been waiting on you. Please lie down,' Glynn pointed to the makeshift bed next to him. Strider warily sat on the blanket. 'You understand what this is for,' Glynn could see that the man was nervous. Strider nodded his head, he knew, but it still made him uneasy. 'We don't know exactly when you will begin to feel the effects of the potion, but we can't let you wander around until you do; it wouldn't be safe. Don't worry Strider, just lie down and relax. It'll be over before you know it.' As a ranger he respected and understood the importance of the Ordeal, but as a healer he could see nothing good in it; inducing sleep like this was not safe, there were many dangers associated with it.

Strider did not care to lie down, there was something about waiting for the drug to take effect that put him on edge, made him suspect every abnormal motion he felt when in actual, it was nothing. And so when his head suddenly felt as light as a feather and it seemed that all colors were melding into one, he gave a slight start and half choked cry came from his throat. Glynn was at his side in an instant, grateful that he did not permit himself to get caught up in the excitement of testing a new ranger as the others did. Rather he acted as the healer he was trained to be, treating each new ranger with care and dignity as the drug took effect and they slipped into unconsciousness.

'Don't panic, just lie down' he told Strider, helping him to lie down. Glynn did not return to his inventorying for he knew all too well of what would come next; Strider's reaction was not abnormal, Glynn himself had experienced it as had all the others who endured the test. Soon, he knew, Strider would feel as though it were winter already as the drug worked to shutdown his limbs and so he was not startled when Strider began to shiver and complain of a sudden coldness.

'What's happening?' he asked. 'Did something go wrong?'

'No, this is what happens. See, the drug is unique in that it renders one unconscious for a specific amount of time, no longer and no less. Therefore it works differently in the body. This is why wandering around the campsite is dangerous; the effects catch you off guard because they're not what you expect, to drift off of to sleep, rather you'll know when you are losing consciousness. It's quite an unusual experience for people, but don't worry it isn't as bad as you think it is.' Strider nodded his head. He was trying to rub his arms to get some warmth back into them, but he couldn't feel his hands.

His earlier panic began to creep back as the numbness moved up to his elbows, but he urged himself to think of other things; he refused to allow himself to panic again. It was childish and silly, this wasn't the worst he had endured and he was sure that he would go through much more in the next three days than this. By the end, this would seem like an ant hill compared to the other mounds he would have to jump. And so he relaxed as he felt the darkness creeping into his vision, slightly in awe of how it moved in ever so gently like fog rolling down a hill to cloud a town in the early morn.

Glynn was right, he knew the exact moment before he lost consciousness that he was going to, in fact it seemed that he knew that when his eyelids closed that they would not open again for another three hours, but he was not entirely out of it yet; his mind was still functioning on a very minimal level, but only so that he was dimly aware the Glynn was still beside him, waiting for the final parts to slip away. And when they did Strider knew.

When Strider awoke exactly three hours later it was dark. Trying to stand, he realized that his hands were bound and memories came flooding back to him as he suddenly remembered the reason he was out here; he had to get free and make it back to camp in exactly three days. Fiddling with the rope that bound his hands, he found that it was a simple binding, nothing worse than when he was a child and being teased by the other elven children who would gang up on him, tie his arms and legs, and leave him up in a tree until he was found later that night by Lord Elrond or his sons.

Thus he made short work of the binding and was free in a matter of minutes, rising to his feet after he did so. It was then he realized that he still had the blindfold on and took it off promptly, finding it to be just as dark without it as it was with it; there was no moon out tonight for it was a new moon and even if there were a moon, Strider found it likely that the thick branches of the trees would have blocked out any light that emanated from it. But, that didn't really matter, the Ordeal was always begun on the first night of a new moon, to provide for the worst of situations and give the ultimate of tests.

But standing here thinking about the darkness would do him no good, he thought to himself; it would bring him no closer to the light. Rather he would have to set out if he expected to get anywhere, but that would be obvious even to a fool. He first attempted to find tracks of the rangers who placed him there or even any trace of where they had covered their tracks, for he realized that there would be less tracks where the rangers had covered their tracks.

But the ground was totally unmarked except for where he had been, therefore the task at hand was to decide in which direction to travel and that meant figuring out the directions. He knew the stars would easily tell him the directions, but that would mean climbing a tree and these were not entirely fond of the idea being walked all over. Thus he would have to rely on other, less accurate methods until the sun rose and he could figure out the directions better. He hastily checked the sides of trees, feeling slightly silly as he did so, for the growth of moss; it was growing heavier on the left side; therefore his left was more than likely south and his right north. That helps, he thought, but where was the camp?

And then, as fate would have it, he heard a low growl behind him. Being out in the wild, unarmed and caught off guard, his first reaction was to run, but that would get him killed quicker so he set aside the idea and tried to reasoning with his own mind. Time seemed to slow as he sorted out the situation. He'd already been discovered so there was no need for him to move with caution, except to keep from attracting more animals. He had no weapons and nothing to improvise with either. Plus he found himself truly frightened, for the first time in a while, of what might happen in the next few minutes. Thus he decided that his only way out was to, quell his fears and face the animal, enduring whatever it should do to him.

Mentally he gave himself a countdown, not trusting himself to turn around before the creature attacked him and it was none too soon for as soon as he turned, the wolf that crouched behind him pounced, its yellowed teeth bearing down on his neck.

Strider saw the wolf launch itself off its hind legs and braced himself for its four paws to slam him into the ground. The instant his back connected, he rolled over, trying to shake the animal off, all the while trying to clear his mind of the pain he felt. The wolf clamped down on his arm as he shoved the animal away from him and got to his feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain coming from the fresh wound. He readied himself for the next round as the wolf got to its feet and did the same. This time, however, it was Strider who attacked first, throwing himself on the wolf's back as he did so.

Furious, the wolf turned to bite him, but Strider rolled to his side, holding on tightly to the animal's back. Its thin legs not strong enough to bear the weight of the full grown man, the wolf fell sideways causing Strider to roll on to his back, the animal's own back digging into his stomach. The wolf kicked and thrashed its head as he tried to loose itself from the man's tight grip. When it began to worm its way out, Strider increased his grip on the animal and reached his legs up to grip its bottom half. The thrashing increased forcing Strider to turn his head to the left. And that was when he spotted the stick, a little under three feet from him.

Bracing himself, he forced his right arm to grip tightly around the wolf's upper body though it ached terribly as he did so and stretched his other arm out to grasp the stick. The wolf took this opportunity though and shook its entire body, thrashing its head and kicking its legs until it had weakened the lone arm that still grasped him. The creature scrambled as his got to its feet, turning to bite the man's neck as he did so. But Strider had moved quickly when the wolf rolled off of him and jabbed the stick down hard into the wolf's side.

Blood quickly oozed from the point of insertion, but Strider still held the stick in place. The wolf cried out, slowing as life drained from it until it ceased to move. Only then did Strider relax, panting as he removed his arm from the stick. As he knelt beside the dead wolf, he looked at it curiously; its eyes were still open, now glaring blanking at the man who killed him. Strider reached his hand out to close the eyes, pausing for a second to grieve for the life he'd just taken.

Adrenalin, as it always did, wore off, allowing him to feel in the aching in his arm; the dull ache in his shoulder from his previous battle three months ago and the fresh wound that was dripping blood onto the forest floor. He inspected the wound, it was not serious, but would have to be cleaned the moment he found water... His thoughts trailed off, when choosing a campsite, the most logical place to locate is near a source of water and there had to be one nearby or why else would animals still populate these woods. Therefore he would need to follow the animals to the water and then he could find his way out of the forest and from there, finding the camp would be no problem at all.

Hastily he tore off a piece of his shirt, wrapping it tightly around the wound on his arm. Blood continued to flow, seeping through the cloth until it finally slowed and eventually stopped altogether. Strider estimated that, between deciding which way to go and fighting the wolf off, he had lost just under two hours and could not afford to lose anymore time. And so set out to find the river.

Several hours later found Strider still trying to find the river. He'd also been unsuccessful in finding an animal to follow to a river source. Short on luck, he was starting to grow aggravated not to mention tired and hungry. It'd been almost 18 hours he estimated since he last ate and as for sleep, well he couldn't afford that. These woods were dangerous; since defeating the wolf, he'd narrowly dodged two other wolves and a coyote.

As he trudged on, he decided that he would have to find some fruits or berries to hold him until day light when lighting a fire would not be such a danger by attracting unwanted animals that were hungry for some fresh meat. And he would have to put off finding the water supply, at least until he had found some berries. Thus his search turned to finding bushes that bore berries that were safe to eat.

Finding bushes that had berries was not a problem though, that problem lied in their edibility. The first few bushes he found, he immediately recognized the berries to be poisonous. After those there were very few bushes with safe berries and if they were safe, they tended to be overly ripe or had spots of mold on them. And then there was nothing. So he continued on, taking a few turns here and there as he cautiously made his way through the forest until at last he found another bush.

He didn't recognize the berries it bore, but he didn't dismiss them as his growling stomach once again pierced the air around him. Nervous, he glanced around him; in his tiredness he had grown edgy and felt that every noise, no matter how slight or minimal, would attract the hungry animals that preyed on him as he trekked through the forest.

He pulled a few berries off a branch and held them in his palm, examining them as closely as he could in the darkness that surrounded him; thankfully his eyes had grown accustomed to it and he did not really notice the lack of light. He determined that the berries were round and red, but couldn't determine their edibility. Disappointed he stood, tossing the few berries he held onto the ground in utter disgust; his stomach growled and he wavered on his feet. His head felt empty, as he dizzily attempted to regain his footing.

When he finally did, he sat down, the loss of blood and lack of food was finally hitting him; he resigned that he would have to eat the berries or at least test them before moving on. He reached to pluck a single red berry off the nearest branch, allowing it to rest in his palm as he contemplated the effects of the unknown berry. He was struck by another wave of dizziness as he did so. That being the last straw, he tore the berry in half, placing the smaller half in the area between his front teeth and lower lip. He allowed it to rest there as he checked the wound on his arm, gently removing the cloth that bound it.

The teeth marks so far showed no sign of infection, but he knew that that would come in time unless he could clean the wound soon. He resisted the childhood habit he had to pick at the scab the puncture marks now bore. He tore off another piece of cloth, this time smaller than the first for the wound did not bleed anymore and just need to be kept clean of bugs and dirt.

His growling stomach pulled his attention away from the wound, back to the berry that rested in his mouth. He'd had it in his mouth for about twenty minutes now and nothing had happened, but he couldn't be sure just yet that it was safe. Instead he placed the other half in his cheek. Now he'd have to wait for a couple of hours, after all killing himself with poisonous berries would do him no good, but he could go the three days without food if he had to, though it would hamper his ability to find his way out of this forest and back to the camp.

Getting his mind off of the berries and hunger, he turned back to his wound, carefully wrapping the cloth around the wound. He sat there for a moment, bored and wondering what he could do to occupy his time. Then the obvious came to mind, how to find his way out of this forest. Mulling over his plan to follow the animals to a water source, he remembered his failure in doing so and became discouraged. He felt that he would never get out of here.

Once again he realized that Lord Elrond was right, he was now doomed to death, he would die right here in this forest sometime in the next three days for he was nothing but a weak mortal and though he could never claim the title, the only remaining descendent of Isildur, the man whose courage and honor failed him at the time when he needed them the most. Isildur had let down not only the people he'd just saved, but doomed their off springs to death and torment. That is unless an heir of Isildur could restore hope and he was the one fated to do so, but he'd elected the path of exile instead. He now played a part in Isildur's infamous legacy for he had written the end of the history of man, his courage and honor had failed too when man depended on him. In the final war, the descendents of the once prideful race of man, whether they were man, woman or child, would die thus ending the lineage of man.

A few hours later, Strider was so ravenous that he wasn't going to wait for the next step in testing the berry; he didn't really care if it killed him, he likely wouldn't make it out alive anyway, for he couldn't even find the river. So Strider tore a small branch off and began to pluck the berries off the vine, tossing them into his mouth a handful at a time.

It was only a matter of minutes before he was finished, wiping his juice covered hands off on his pants, but it helped little for when his hands dried they were still very sticky. The small amount of food did boost his morale a little though, for he found he could think and concentrate better. And once again, he found himself determined; his earlier moments of despair filed far away in his mind. Rather he found that he wanted to prove that he could belong, that he could find his way out of this forest.

Gathering his courage once again, he got up, picking up the bloodied cloth that once bound the wound on his arm. He could not leave anything that might attract wolves or other ravenous animals; there could be no trace of him... And then it hit him, animals would leave tracks, if he could find the tracks of a deer or some animal that wasn't dangerous, then perhaps he could find the river. So, with his morale boosted and a new plan in hand, he set off to find the tracks.

Light was beginning to filter through the cracks in the forest ceiling when Strider came upon the river, having gained some luck and found it by the first set of footprints he found. His dilemma now, though, was which way to go, up or down the river. On the other hand, he knew now where the directions lied for the sun told him that in front of him was west and behind him east. The river too told him that his right was north and his left south as the river flowed down. Other than that he was still lost about which direction to go in. Instinct told him to go up the river, he couldn't explain why, but he just knew it would be better to go up.

Thus, as he yawned loudly, he set off to his right and followed the river as it winded slowly through the forest. He didn't really see the danger involved in this test, it seemed to him to be more of a test of knowledge and ability, not of courage or honor. In fact the only real test he had endured was the wolf and he'd survived that, rather easily too. And the only real problem he facing now was that he was growing tired, that and he was beginning to get hungry again as he remembered that he had only had berries to sate his hunger until he could find better food. As the thought of food crossed his mind, he realized that he could now stop and fully satisfy his hunger, after all he did have more than two days still to find the camp and it was in only one of two directions.

It took him little more than a few minutes to find wood, leaves, and small twigs needed begin building a fire to cook his food, which he decided would be fish. Thus after getting the fire going, he turned to the river to catch a few fish. And to his surprise luck was with him as he quite easily caught three medium sized fish with his bare hands, a trick taught to him when he was a child. He then found a stick, put the fish on it, held them over the fire to cook, and even though he knew that they would not be done for at least twenty minutes, his stomach would not allow his mind to think that, insisting that he check every few minutes to see how raw the meat still was and every few minutes he became more and more disappointed upon discovering that the fresh meat still had several more minutes to go.

Yet he continued to check it, until at last it was cooked to his satisfaction and he pulled the fish out of the fire. Ravenously he began to pull the meat off, in large chunks and place it in his mouth, not even aware of his surroundings or of the bear that was slowly coming towards the camp grounds. In fact he was so caught up in satisfying his hunger, that he didn't even feel a change in temperature as the bear's shadow fell over him and any sunlight that managed to get past the thick branches of the forest's canopy was blocked out. But Strider continued his fish feast, moving on to the second fish now, as the first was now little more than a skeleton; he was not even aware of the bear behind him, now raising his large claws.

It was too late for any sort of reaction when Strider finally realized that he had company for the claws were just inches away from his shoulders. Yet instinct still told him to pull away and so he did, even as the claws dug into his shoulders. He cried out loudly as the claws tore through his skin, scoring even longer marks as he moved away from the animal. Eventually the bear pulled his claws out and roughly pushed Strider to the ground. Strider winced as the stick that held his breakfast dug into his stomach as he was forced to the ground. He tried to get back up, but the bear kept his front paws on his back, effectively pinning him to the ground and prohibiting any sort of movement. Helplessly he laid there as the bear roared loudly.

And then panic set it and he started to squirm and move, trying to get free from the bear's grasps, but to no avail, instead the bear dug his claws into his back, causing Strider to cry even louder than before and dig his fingertips into the ground. As he slowly became accustomed to the pain and discomfort of having the bear's claws in his back, he started to thrash about again, trying once more to get the bear off his back. But that only angered the bear more as he bit Strider's shoulder to get his prey to stop moving. He was rewarded with a loud cry from his victim and a cessation of any movement.

In the meantime, Strider felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as his body cried out in agony from the bear's vicious attacks; he watched the world from clouding eyes, fighting hard against the black spots that were threatening to overcome him and block out his sight entirely. He felt weak and tired, his energy draining as quickly as his blood was from the various punctures in his skin. Yet, by some grace of the Valar his mind was working, thinking of a solution; trying to formulate a plan that would get him out of this quickly and intact.

Somehow, he was never entirely sure of how, he came up with an idea, crazy as though it seemed, but if he could distract the bear, cause some noise far off like the snapping of a twig or the dropping of an nut, then perhaps he could get free from the grips of the bear and that was when he saw the stone in front of him, just a few inches from his face, but it could have been a few feet from him for all it mattered as reaching it with his left shoulder burning with pain and the muscles in his right arm screaming aloud for mercy was near impossible if not futile; panic began to set in again, but he willed it away from him, instead focusing on reaching the stone lying in front of him. He quelled his thoughts of disbelief and doubt, rather focusing on reaching out in one fluid motion to grasp the stone in his palm, bring his arm down to his side, and toss the stone with all of his might at his designated target.

The stone hit the nearest tree in a matter of seconds, though to Strider it seemed like minutes. Instantly, the bear looked up and released some of the pressure off Strider's back. As soon as that happened, Strider pushed himself off the ground, miraculously finding strength to get to his feet and move away from the bear quickly. Free from the pressure of the bear's weight, his wounds once again flamed and the area on his stomach where the stick had been stuck in, burned even greater than before for the stick had been ripped out, but he gave little time to tend to his wounds for the bear was angered by the distraction and his prey's escape. The two faced one another, the bear roaring loudly and standing tall on his hind legs, while Strider leaned against his knees, trying to regain as much strength as possible before going into battle against an opponent that was easily twice his size and three times his weight.

There was no circling or exchanges of barbs between the opponents before the battle began, rather the bear simply charged, once again catching Strider off guard, but the unsuspecting man was a little more aware this time and able to move to the side. The bear however, was just as able as Strider, moving along with the man. Surprised, Strider continued to move to the side trying without luck to get rid of the bear, but came to a sudden stop as a tree entered his path, blocking his escape. Thus he began to move backwards, slowly at first as he blindly checked out what was behind him, and then quicker when he found it to be safe.

Seeing his prey escaping the bear thrust out his paw, catching the man and tearing a long four long gashes diagonally from his chest to his stomach. Strider cried out in pain, falling back partially from the shock and partially from tripping over a root that appeared out of nowhere. Pulling himself out of the daze from the sudden blow, he took notice of the bear coming towards him and began to crawl backwards on his elbows and feet, but once again was stopped as a tree came into his path.

He let out a light groan, more in surprise than in pain, as his head collided roughly with the bark of the tree. Strider looked around, panicked for a place to go, to escape from the clutches of the carnivorous beast before him, but there was nowhere to go, so with nothing to do he looked up at his hunter, the bear seemed to smile down at Strider as he prepared to make the final blow to end the man's life.

It was something in Strider, though, something born in him that told him not to give up yet. Frantically he searched around for some weapon, some piece of nature he could use; with his hands he groped the ground until he came upon a branch and despite the pain it caused him, he pulled it towards him and as the bear came down jabbed it into the bear's chest. The bear roared loudly, but continued towards Strider, mouth wide open and claws ready for the attack. Desperate, Strider pulled the stick out and jabbed it deeper in the bear's chest. Mortally wounded, the bear cried out again and clawed at the man one last time before landing on the harshly on his prey.

Strider cried out as the bear's claws raked against his skin and then its body landed on his own wounded body. He tried to hang onto consciousness long enough to determine is the bear was yet alive, but was unable to, slipping into oblivion, completely unaware of what was happening around him.