Wow, chapter 14, this is the farthest I've ever gotten on a story. Um, I like it though. So remember the three r's, read, relax, and review. Yes there will be a quiz at the end. For disclaimer see chapter one, I don't know the title.

Hands

Glynn had been quick to curse himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him while Strider deteriorated right in front of him, but the healer in him had forced him to push aside those feelings of guilt while he worked on the man, trying everything he could to save him. It was all over now; he'd done everything he could. The extent of Strider's wounds had stretched his medical knowledge, for there was only so much one man could do. After it was all over, he leaned back, just for a second looking at his hands. They were stained with so much blood he doubted that he would ever get it all off.

He could remember Yestin calling to him, a rough hand on his shoulder. What had he said?

'It's all right, you did everything you could.'

That was it, everything was all right. Sure, all right. He didn't believe that when he knelt beside Strider anymore than when he stood looking down at the man, surrounded by a mess of bloody bandages and half-used herbs.

'How is he?' that was the question they all asked him as he walked through the camp. He wished he could say it was just wait and see, but it wasn't. Instead he said nothing, the men got the idea quickly, but it didn't stave their looks nor their curiosity.

'How did it happen?'

'Are you sure?'

'Is it true what I heard?'

He didn't bother answering, he just kept walking. He began to scratch at his hands; he had to get to the river. Sanity told him that the river wouldn't move anymore than the blood would stain him, but he was not in control right now for the river seemed to get further away the faster he moved and the more furiously he scratched. Even as he was just feet away from the river, the distance seemed to be miles.

He thrust his hands into the river, furiously scrubbing to get the blood off. It was coming off, but he didn't notice; he didn't see it etching out the current of the river as it worked its way back to camp, for all he could see was what still rested upon his hands. Even after the blood was gone, he scrubbed his hands. In fact it wasn't until he caught a glimpse of red again that he stopped.

It was his shirt, he realized and it too was stained with blood. Frantically, he tried to get it off, pulling it over his head, but the harder he worked at getting it off, the more he got caught up in it. Finally he just ripped the shirt, tearing it down the middle until he could easily get it off. And as he tossed it into the river, he stopped. His transformation back into sanity was as quick and abrupt as his departure. He stood by the river for a moment, collecting himself.

He knew that he could not go back to camp, not yet at least for he wasn't yet prepared to deal with the barrage of questions, everything was too fresh, the past events too new, he could still see Strider's look of panic as he fell to the ground, that last look as consciousness fled from him, he knew it was coming, but he also knew that it wasn't like before, he knew that he wouldn't wake three hours later. Not this time.

Everything was too vivid; he could remember exactly how his hands moved, so quickly and fluidly; the commands he shouted to anyone who would listen and obey.

'Go fetch my bag!' he had shouted. No one left. 'Someone, fetch my bag,' he tried again.

'Romney, go get the bag,' Yestin took charge of the situation. Romney returned only seconds later, the bag in his hands. Glynn grabbed it from him and began to rummage through it. He knew what he was looking for, but in his panic he couldn't think of it, he couldn't picture it until he found it. A small package of herbs that he held for only the direst of situations and this was certainly it.

'I need water,' he called out, 'hot water to cleanse his wounds.' Someone ran off to restart the fire and get some water boiling. 'And some towels,' he added.

'What are his chances,' Yestin asked.

'I don't know,' he paused; things were happening so fast, it was hard to put everything in perspective, 'Everything depends on his will to live.'

Bringing him back to life, Glynn remembered as he sat, leaning against a rock that littered the side of the river, was hard work. It wasn't easy force air in to a man who refused to breath, without killing him.

Logic told even the smallest of persons that if someone was not breathing the only way to get them to breath again was to get them to take in air. That wasn't the hard part, it was how to get the air in them, how to get them to take air again. Years ago there were many methods, but none were truly effective. It took healers years to realize the most obvious of methods, pressing down on the chest where the lungs were and breathing into the mouth to put air into the lungs. The main problem with this method, Glynn thought as he pushed down on Strider's chest, was breaking the sternum. You couldn't push too hard, but not real light either otherwise it would be ineffective.

Push down five or six times and then breathe air into their mouth and eventually the body would kick in and they would begin to take breaths on their own, just like before. That was how it was supposed to work, but sometimes it didn't. Strider was strong willed though, and Glynn firmly believed that he would come back. It had to be quick, if he were gone for more than a few minutes his mind might act differently, function at a slower rate than before.

Push down and breathe. Push down and breathe, that's the key.

Not surprising he himself was out of breath after just ten minutes of trying to get Strider to simply take a breath. Thus he sat back to wait as he regained his breath. If Strider were going to take another breath, now would be the time.

All the time he was working on Strider, something was telling him that there was something more; another reason for his saving Strider, something more than just duty or friendship. He didn't care about it before and now that he could think about it, he couldn't place the feeling.

'Glynn,' someone was trying to get his attention; the voice was a little unsure, but it pulled the troubled healer out of his thoughts nonetheless. Glynn looked up; it was his captain, out to see how he was doing, no doubt. Glynn sighed, he really didn't want to be checked on, but he wasn't about to argue with his captain, he just didn't have the energy.

'Yes sir?' he stood quickly, forcing himself to be a ranger.

'Don't worry about formalities Glynn. I'm here as your friend, not your captain.' He sat down on the rock that Glynn had been leaning against, a sign of his informality. Glynn stood for an awkward moment before taking his seat again.

'I know what you're going to say Yestin, but it won't help,' Glynn cut to the chase. Yestin gave a sigh of frustration; Glynn lowered his head in frustration over Yestin's persistence.

'What is it going to take to prove to you that you did everything you could,' Yestin asked. 'There's just too much damage. His injuries would have stretched even the most experienced of healers.'

'I know, but I,' he paused for a second to think of the words, 'I can't quite explain it, but I feel that he's something more. Like he's not supposed to die; like something bad would happen if he was to.'

Glynn's words vibrated through him, forcing him to recall his own feelings about Strider and the letter he'd received.

'I mean, like he was something more in this world; that there were greater stakes attached to his life. And his death has a greater importance than yours or mine would have,' he interrupted himself. 'But how could that be,' he thought aloud, 'he's just an ordinary man, just like you and me, isn't he. He would have told us if there was something greater about him, right?' Glynn was now facing Yestin, a curious look in his eager eyes as he waited for an answer.

But Yestin didn't know what to say, should he tell him what he knew; did he dare mention the letter?

'I don't think so,' Yestin answered. Glynn's look of curiosity changed to one of puzzlement.

'What do you mean, why wouldn't he tell us?'

'I can't tell you, Glynn,' he paused, 'I'm sorry, but I can't say anything.'

Glynn turned back around, he was confused. What was it that Yestin couldn't tell him; something more about Strider.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything,' Yestin apologized again, 'I sought you out to ease your guilt. You've got to let go, you did everything you could,' Yestin quickly changed the subject.

'But...' Glynn began.

'No Glynn,' Yestin stood. 'I've said too much already, I've sworn not to reveal anything. In time, you will learn the truth and you will understand.' Yestin looked down at Glynn, he didn't understand, 'Just forget about it, Glynn. Let it go for now.'

Glynn watched Yestin walk slowly back into camp, leaving him wondering what had just happened. What did Yestin know that he couldn't tell, what was so important about Strider? There was some truth to his feelings, but he couldn't say what, however now he knew that there was something greater at stake than just a life with Strider's death.

Suddenly, the thought struck him, threatening to knock his mind off the delicate balance it was on. The adrenalin must be wearing off, he thought to himself for the reality of the early morning's events was setting in and it was none too pleasant. Yet it still seemed too surreal, he could still hear himself telling Strider that everything would be okay, just to relax and this would all be over before he knew it. The younger man had taken the words to heart, believed every word with utter naivety. Thinking back to the look on Strider's face, on his friend's face, he cursed himself again.

It was times like this that made him hate being a ranger, hate his heritage. Perhaps it would have been better if he had listened to his father.

'The life of a ranger ain't pretty, son,' he said.

'But father, I want to go. Don't you see, I want to be like you,' he had pleaded with his father. His father easily fought back a smile; he was used to this by now.

'I know son, but this ain't the life I want for ya,' he shifted on his seat, waiting for his son's patterned response.

'But what about what I want? What about that father? It's my life, not yours; let me live it how I choose.'

'Cause, ya don't know what ya're gettin' yarself into. Ya don't know the life of a ranger, all ya thinkin' about are the heroics son. Ya don't know how dangerous it is. Ya don't know how horrible we live, ya don't know son. An' I don't want ya to know, so forget about it.'

'But, father,' he pleaded.

'I don't wanna hear it. Go out an' feed the chickens.'

Glynn couldn't bear to look at his father anymore, he made him so mad. He just didn't understand. He didn't care about the harsh life; he could handle it. He'd be the best ranger there ever was, he thought as he walked to the chicken house. He'd slay Orcs and come to the rescue of fair maidens and beautiful princess', delivering them back to their fathers' before night fell.

He could see himself now, wearing that green cloak. A lone rider enters the camp, Lady Meinwen, first daughter of King Thengel and Queen Morwen, was taken during the night by barbarians seeking ransom from the King of Rohan. They would have to infiltrate the camp, rescue the young princess, and bring her back to Edoras, without causing any trouble. There was only one man for this job, only one man with the ability to sneak in and out without being noticed.

He reluctantly accepted the job, really he wasn't that good. But he was grateful for the praise; really he was just like everyone else. No, no you can do, his captain would encourage him. The men would back him up with a rousing yes, cheering him on as he mounted his horse. Sure the mission was dangerous, but he couldn't leave Lady Meinwen in the clutches of barbarians. He rode out quickly, for it was the sun was rising fast and he had miles to go. But Vevina, the majestic mare that he had rescued from the wild and brought back from near death, moved with lightning speed. She knew of the promise he had made, by life or death, he would return the princess by night fall.

It was around noon when he found the camp. Dismounting his horse, he quietly moved closer to the camp, peering at it behind a line of bushes. He quickly spotted Lady Meinwen; she was sitting on the ground next to a burly, gruff man. Her hands were bound in front of her and her eyes blindfolded. In all there were about twenty men, he was a little disappointed, this wouldn't even be a challenge, he'd fought and defeated more.

Sighing slightly, he prepared to charge into the camp. In broad daylight, there was no easy way of sneaking into camp, his captain hadn't realized that. As he leaped over the bushes, he pulled out his sword and let out a loud battle cry. Startled, the barbarians looked up at him. They were quick on their feet, grabbing their swords and beginning the charge before he had even landed. But he was prepared for them and met their blades as he touched the ground. Their feeble swords skills, though, were no match for his mastery of the blade and so he was able to quickly able to defeat them, dispatching them from Middle-Earth in a mere matter of minutes.

After he removed the blindfold and unbound her hands, Lady Meinwen gave him a big hug, thanking him for saving her.

'We're not out of the woods yet, my Lady,' he told the little girl as he picked her up.

'I know, but you have saved me from those nasty barbarians,' her blue eyes sparkled as he looked at him. He smiled at the way she spoke, her lady like exterior marred by her childish interior. Carefully, though, he put her up on Vevina and then climbed up himself.

'Noro lim, Vevina, noro lim,' he spoke quietly to his horse. He had long ago mastered the language of the Elves and often used it to speak to his horse for it comforted her. She rushed them across the plains of Rohan, reaching Edoras before the sun began to set. The king and queen rushed out as he dismounted his horse and reached up to grab Lady Meinwen. She rushed to her mother as soon as he set her down. Queen Morwen picked her up and gave her a big hug.

'Oh, how can we ever thank you for returning our daughter safely back to us,' she said; her voice was soft and elegant.

'There is no need,' he was nonchalant. 'Tis my duty to rescue those in need and dispel the evil of that inhabits this land.'

'Oh, you're such an honorable man. If only there were more men like you. You're my hero.'

'Glynn!' a rough voice called to him. 'Glynn quit that foolish day dreamin' son. Ya've got work to do.'

'What,' he was startled at being pulled out of his thoughts so abruptly.

'I said ya've got work to do. Now get to it!'

His father left as quickly as he came; went back to work on the house. Glynn glared at his father's back, he'd show him, he'd be a great ranger. Just wait and see, he thought.

Hastily he grabbed the bag of chicken feed, but it was too heavy for him to lift. He let out a curse, kicking the bag as he did so. It promptly fell onto its side, spilling its contents onto the floor. Glynn let out another curse as he began to pick up the mess, father would be angry if he wasted the food, they couldn't afford to lose the chickens to starvation.

His father made him so mad, he could be a ranger. He'd show him; even if he had to runaway he would prove it to him, he'd show him. Then it hit him, that was it, that was how he'd become a ranger. He would runaway and he'd be helping his father for with him gone, there'd be one less mouth to feed. Yes, he'd sneak out of the house tonight. His plans set he quickly worked on picking up the food and began to feed the chickens.

He had to wait on his father to go to bed before he could even start to pack. He didn't plan on taking much, just he bare essentials. Hastily he moved around, wading up an extra set of clothes and stuffing them in the bag. On top of that went some food he'd stolen from the kitchen. That was about all he needed, after all if he were to be a ranger he'd have to learn out to live in the wild.

Walking out of the house, without making a noise wasn't easy in the dark, but at last he made it. He remembered that his father had come from the north, so that must be where he had taken leave of the rangers and thus they must be in that direction.

'Glynn,' a gruff voice called to him. 'Glynn,' there was a hand on his shoulder as the voice tried again. He turned, surprised at who he saw.

'What,' he asked, slightly angered.

'Come quickly, it's Strider.'

Am I evil? Let me see, (flips through dictionary), yep there's my picture next to the word evil.

Reviewer's responses:

Isadora2- Yeah college is fun. I'm taking playwriting, understanding language, beginning german, calculus and beginning swimming. I'd like to be a screenwriter after college. I think I'm going to major in English, though I'm not sure how I'm going to like that, I'm probably going to be crazy by the end of the four years.

sielge- Um, kill Strider right, I'm working on it. Oh, oh don't kill him, that's what you said- I don't know about that one.

twitch-Yup, I sure did.

Poppa Jon- (does Homer impression) mmm, cliff hangers, the cause and solution to all of life's problems. Yes I've read the Lay of Aragorn and Arwen, but like you mentioned this is AU, so I decided let's really mess with the timeline. And it still works outs, except he's dead. Oops, didn't quite mean to do that.

viggomaniac- ahh, sweet torture. Nothing's more soothing than the cries of Aragorn as that leather whip laced with metal hits the back. Oh, don't worry if its Aragorn that needs CPR, I'll give it to him, after all I was the one who put him in the situation.

grumpy-the poor guy, he just isn't safe in my hands. Anyway, I hope Glynn's a good healer too.

As always thanks to those who took the time to review and thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story and kept reading.