Hey there, much quicker of an update. I seem to have more time, especially when I'm waiting three hours for my laundry to get done. But um, I'm trying to get this done before Christmas, then I can start working on my other story. So, please read, relax and review. For disclaimer see chapter one.

Double-edged Sword

When Strider awoke, he was completely unaware of his surroundings, but the bear was still on top of him and thank the Valar, it was dead. At first he tried to push the bear off of him, but the dead weight of animal was too great for him to handle in his weakened state and so he opted to slide out from underneath the bear and though it took him several tries and a few curses in languages he had forgotten that he knew, he found himself free some odd minutes later; free and quite confused.

As he struggled to sit up, he gazed around at his surroundings, it was still light, but the sun cast shadows in a different way than it had when he passed out. In fact he noticed that it was lowered, which meant that he had little under two days now to find his way back, but he had no clue where he was now, the forest seemed to have moved for the tree that he had bumped his head on no longer stood behind him and the root he tripped over, no longer protruded from the ground, but rather remained hidden underneath. Confusion and pain spread quickly through him as his now day-old wounds burned with a passion, threatening to send him back into unconsciousness.

But he fought hard to remain alert, focusing on taking inventory of his body rather than on the pain he was currently enduring. Most prominent of his wounds were the four long gashes that stretched from his chest to his waist, a nasty bite on his right shoulder which now rendered the arm useless, claw marks on either shoulder that felt as though they were on fire, and a chunk of wood in his stomach from the stick that had been roughly shoved into him when the bear knocked him to the ground.

Moving slightly, he also felt several sharps pains in his back, the result of more claw marks, no doubt. He decided his first task would be to remove the chunk of wood as the foreign object in his body would be the primary culprit of an infection. Wincing, he grabbed onto the wood and very carefully, so as to not cause splinters, pulled it out. When he was halfway done, the wound began to ooze blood, but he continued to pull. A few minutes and several utterances of foul words later, he tossed the chunk aside and reexamined the wound.

Unfortunately the wood had splintered and he now had several tidbits of wood decorating his stomach, but he didn't have the tools to remove them and so left the wound open as he realized that he didn't have enough cloth to bind all of his wounds for his shirt was already in tatters. He turned next to the bite on his shoulder, already it was not looking good, but he didn't have water to cleanse it and remove the dirt it had collected while he laid unconscious on the forest floor during the night. So he was forced to settle for simply binding the wound, hoping that that would prevent any further infection.

The gashes on his stomach, he decided, were too large to be bound completely even though they needed it. Thus he decided to just bind the deepest part, where the gashes would be more likely to bleed from movement. As for the wounds on his back, he was forced to leave them, for he couldn't treat them effectively; he settled for the same on his left shoulder which bore only claw marks, but didn't seem to warrant any immediate attention. Quickly he checked on the wound on his arm, from his earlier battle with the wolf. It was unharmed, which he was grateful for as he would likely need the rest of his shirt to rebind his other wounds later on and didn't really want to waste cloth on the day-old wound.

Having tended to his wounds as best as he could, he tried to find out where he was; nothing seemed to be in the same spot. In fact it seemed as though everything had moved while he was unconscious. Gazing up at the ceiling of the forest, he determined, from what little light shone through, that it was already mid-day, giving him just about a day and a half to complete the task and now he would have to find where he was again. But to his surprise he was not depressed or discouraged by his current situation, rather he was encouraged by it, grateful almost even for the newfound challenge.

But he would get nowhere by sitting here, he thought, thus he moved to stand, but quickly sank back down when pain shot through his body. Clearly he would have to be more careful, he chided himself for being so eager to get going. Using his left arm, as it happened to hurt less, he rolled to his side and then on to his stomach, pushing off the ground with both his hands and feet, trying hard to keep his stomach from bending. He was partially successful, causing himself only minimal pain, but alas he stood, wavering heavily as he tried to gain his balance.

Once he had gained his balance though, his head still felt quite light, almost as if a light breeze would set it off balance and send him tumbling to the ground. Carefully he moved his head around, taking note of his surroundings and trying to find anything that seemed even remotely familiar, but he found nothing. He did feel some idea though, something he, with his foggy mind, couldn't put a finger on. It made sense to him in an abstract way, but nothing concrete, nothing he could put into words, let alone execute. But there seemed no use in staying here, he thought, he would have to get going if he were to ever find his way out in a day and a half.

So he picked up one foot and experimentally placed it in front of him; nothing happened. Still nervous, he cautiously placed his other front in front to take another step and again nothing happened. Feeling rather silly, he chided himself and began to walk, only slightly tired from the yesterday's battle. He was traveling west, for a reason unbeknownst to him, other than it just seemed right.

Hours later, as the sun was beginning to set, Strider was still wondering why he'd decided to travel west. And it was still just as big of a mystery to him. Yet, despite his question, he trusted in his instinct and kept going. Only once did he stop, just before sunset, to check his wounds before he was completely without light. He was relieved that they didn't bleed, but didn't like how they were healing, in fact they weren't. Rather each seemed to be taking on a yellowish tinge, the bite on his shoulder and his stomach wounds appearing to be the worst.

But he had naught to clean them, for the water he had found just yesterday seemed to have disappeared or perhaps it never existed, he thought in his muddled mind, and the forest seemed to have no end. Casually ignoring the newfound knowledge of his wounds, he set forth again, but had taken no more than a few steps before a root popped up and grasped his ankle, sending him flying to the ground. He cried out as his chest impacted harshly with the ground and he felt his head slam into the ground, watching the leaves quickly fade to black.

Strider's first thought when he awoke was that the forest was out to get him and indeed it seem true to his semi-lucid mind for just when everything appeared to be going good, whenever he was making some progress the forest stepping in his path, sending everything into chaos. His second thought, though, was what time was it, for he knew that he was quickly running out of it.

Taking the same actions as before he began to turn his side, but was stopped when his chest exploded in pain and he was sent into a coughing fit. Holding his chest, he leaned on his side. As the coughing subsided, he rolled on to his back, resting there until the pain in his chest faded and he had regained his breath. But even after several minutes, normal breaths seemed out of the question for he found it difficult to draw a deep breath and therefore was reduced to short, quick breaths that drained him of the little energy he was left with.

In his mind, he tossed around ideas of what had happened, what had caused this tremendous pain in his chest and caused his breaths to be shortened. He muddled over the events leading up to his black-out: the root grasping his ankle, falling, his hands flying out to catch him, hitting the ground hard and hearing a loud crack. Then it hit him, he'd broken a rib, probably punctured a lung, he mused to himself, what luck. Still he lay there, for he found that he hadn't the strength to move, not even to roll himself on to his side.

As he lay there, his thoughts drifted until he found the late day sun shining in his eyes. He cursed loudly, realizing that he had fallen asleep and wasted an entire day. He now only had a few hours to find his way out and again, the forest seemed to have shifted.

Quickly despairing, he forced himself up, only to be forced to his hands and knees in a terrible coughing fit. This time the fit lasted longer, stopping after several minutes. He paused, only for a second though, to wipe the saliva that had formed on his lip. Unconsciously he looked at it as he stood, barely noticing the blood that stained the fingers before he wiped his hands on his pants. He continued to travel west, ignoring his gut feeling that he should travel south.

And once again, he hadn't taken more than a few steps when a root slipped up from underground and grasped his ankle, causing him to tumble to the ground. This time, though, he turned on his side, curling up to protect his chest and head. When at last he stopped moving, he opened his eyes, turned on to his back, and began to cry. As the tears strolled down his checks he gave little thought to the idea of a grown man being reduced to tears by a forest, rather he choose to curse the forest.

'Curses be upon this forest,' Strider cried out loud in between sobs. 'What pleasure do you take in my torture?' There was no answer to his query, but hadn't really expected one. He laid there a while longer, thinking and muddling over how this all began. He thought back to Glynn, remembering what his friend had told him as he waited to begin the third stage. He had warned him against becoming a ranger, tried to convince him not to endure the third stage. But Strider had reminded him that this was what he wanted, this was the life that he had chosen.

'This is my choice, don't you see? This is what I want!' He gazed around, sniffing as he tried to halt his tears for they were making breathing difficult. He quickly found himself struggling to breathe and often skipping a breath or two. 'What must I do to prove that to you?'

Much to Strider's surprise, he received an answer, though it sounded more like the howling of the wind than anything else. It didn't sound like much, but somehow he understood it and it angered him.

'I elected not to travel that path! I didn't want it. Don't you understand, that wasn't my choice, I took the alternate path. I chose my own life!' Strider's voice rose as he remembered how this all began, the simple conversation and Lord Elrond's casual coyness about the topic. He hadn't wanted it, not from the moment he heard and he didn't care what happened, one man could not fight off an evil so great that had taken the entire resources of Middle-Earth before. The race of men would fall some time; it was just a matter of when and where. What did it matter if it were at the Black Gate of Mordor or by the passage of time.

'Why must I endure this just to become a ranger? Is it because I'm different, I'm not destined to be a ranger? What happened to choice? Doesn't that count for anything? Don't you see that I'm in charge of my life; me and only me. No one else tells me what to do.'

Again he received an answer, this time though he was forced to strain to make it out. But he liked the answer no more than he liked the previous one.

'I didn't want that. I never have, not even in the slightest. I want to choose my life and this is the life I choose!' Strider's voice calmed, sounding more like he was choking back a sob, 'What must I do to prove that to you?'

He was answered by a rough howl of the wind, but he couldn't make it out, he was trying to hard. Slowing his breath, he worked hard to calm himself, and again heard the wind howl, but this time he understood. The trees had talked to him and told him what he had to do.

Steeling himself against the pain that it would cause, he stood, using the same technique that he had used the past few times. When at last he stood, he forced himself to stand for a minute and simply breathe for he had realized his mistake. He allowed his thoughts to drift back to the moments before he had lost consciousness at the camp, when Glynn was with him telling him to relax for this would all be over before he knew it.

Strider closed his eyes, imagining the words circulating through his body, calming him as they did so. Feeling himself much calmer and more relaxed, he opened his eyes, ready to set out to find the camp. He would have to travel south and quickly for night was quickly setting and only a few hours remained in the test. If he didn't make it out now, he would die, never realizing his dream.

Adrenalin pumped through him as he ran despite the pain from the wounds that somehow penetrate adrenalin's mighty shield. Sweat began to pour down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but it was not from the running for it was a cool night and he hadn't run for long, but rather from the fever. He felt as he wavered between the realms of cold and warm, but ignored it, opting to continuing his long journey.

It was his lungs, in the end that gave out on him though, for he had pushed them too far by running. They simply couldn't handle the heavy breaths he was forcing out of them. He forced himself to run though, his body forcing him to cough and the coughs forcing him to slow, but not stop even as he began to spew blood and saliva he continued to run. And he didn't stop when his lungs stopped and his lips began to turn blue, the color quickly rushing out of his skin. When at last he did stop, he was free of the forest but his skin was deathly pale and his lips a deep shade of blue

Whew, that's finally done. I think it was harder on me to get him out of there than it was for him. I never fully realized what a challenge it would be to escape a forest with no provisions.

Reviewer's responses (I always wanted to do this! Thanks to my faithful readers!)

Poppa Jon- True, the fights with the bear and the wolf would have lasted longer in reality, but remember that this is a strange forest, strange things are bound to happen. I've also tried not to dwell on three days because most of it is narration and I'm trying not to bore everyone with the tedious details. As for the ending, that of course remains unknown, even to me at times.

Grumpy- thanks for keeping up with the story this past year. Nope, there won't be much of Strider left by the end of all of this, or so it seems.

Joslin- is this soon enough for you?

Sielge- Um, the shoulder, don't know. Maybe, maybe not†I'm still deciding.