Well, here's what you've all been waiting for; yeah this one is really it. So here it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. See chapter one.

Warning: A few violent parts, um and if you don't like seeing characters act differently you might not want to read this.

And so with that, please read, relax, and review.

'Not coming back'

Warmth was the first thing that hit Strider as he tried to pry his way to consciousness. He wasn't sure why he had chosen life, but something inside of him told him that he needed to take that path, even if it were only to be killed in the end. He heard worried voices around him; someone was leaning over him beckoning him to waken. Perhaps, he thought, everything was okay. Perhaps he would be welcomed. Worry and hesitation fleeing his mind, he opened his eyes and recognized the face of Lord Elrond. He was in Rivendell and for this he knew he would be sentenced to death, yet he squirmed, alarmed by the peacefulness and ease of the situation. He expected it to be different; he thought Elrond would show his full fury and be ready to smite him down the moment he woke.

'Sir,' Elrond spoke softly, 'you must calm down. This excitement is not good for your injuries, you have not yet healed.' He spoke gently to the man he had spent the last week caring for. Strider quickly calmed, soothed by the gentleness in the elf's voice and then it occurred to him. Elrond had called him sir. What this some sort of formality? Had Elrond forgotten about him entirely? Or was he just acting? And should he reveal who he was or should he take advantage of Elrond's ignorance?

'Do you not know who I am,' he finally spoke, his voice harsh from illness; though he wished for nothing more than to live, something within him told him to tell the truth for perhaps all would be well. Elrond was not an unfair elf.

Elrond was taken aback by the man's words. He looked behind him, to his sons who stood ready to lend their help, mentally questioning them, but they didn't understand either. He turned his attention back to the man on the bed, studying his face, but he could not recognize the man.

'No,' he answered cautiously, 'should I?'

Strider paused as he was once again stricken with the thought of not revealing his true identity, but finally he started. 'I was once called Estel, but now I am Strider,' Elrond gave the man on the bed a questioning look, but Strider continued. 'One year ago I choose to be exiled from the elven realms under pain of death and since then have spent my time in the wilds. I do not know how I came to be here, but I assure you that I have not returned willingly. Yet, I will accept my sentence of death.'

The three elves looked at him in awe, each trying to find a hint of the man he used to be; of the boy that used to run through the halls twenty minutes before his bedtime. But the man before them was not Estel for his face told of the hardships he had endured. In his eyes, Elrond saw the horrors he had witnessed, wondering what he had seen that had wiped him of his boyish looks. This was not the same man who had asked to be exiled a year ago, the man before him was Strider.

'Strider,' Elrond tested the man's new name, but found it odd; it clashed with his elven tongue. 'It is uncommon for an elf to exile one of their own, but it is even more uncommon for that exile to be lifted. However, you are not the same man, I sense that you have learned a great deal during the past year and perhaps you are finally prepared to accept your destiny. Therefore I have decided that your banishment be lifted and you shall be restored to the name of your birth, Aragorn.'

Elrond had turned the tables, for now it was Strider's turn to look at him in shock, he had been freed. But with what price, he thought, for he was now expected to become king and save his people, the burden of which weighed heavily on him and he was still not sure he wanted to.

'I do know if I have what is in me to accept my destiny, Lord Elrond, but I shall try. It is true that I have learned much; during my time in the wild I have witnessed the plight of man and I do not wish for my kin to fall into darkness.'

It seemed, Elrond thought as he looked down at Strider, that the man had taught himself what Elrond had not been able to, but he was not envious or upset for he was proud that Strider was now ready to take on the challenge that lay ahead. Strider tried to stifle a yawn, not wanting to let this moment past, rather relish in it for a while longer, but the suppressed yawn turned into a cough bringing Elrond back to reality.

'Elladan,' he called to the son nearest to him, 'fetch me a bowl of hot water. Elrohir, go to my study. On my desk there is a small bag of herbs, it will help to ease Strider's cough.'

Strider tried to hold onto reality and keep track of what was going on around him, but his lungs felt as though they were on fire as the coughing refused to subside. He felt himself slipping away; darkness was encroaching, creeping inwards from the edges of his sight and in a matter of seconds, it had taken over, delivering Strider to oblivion once more.

'Aragorn,' a voice called to him some time later, he refused to answer it though. He was afraid that Elrond's forgiveness was merely a ploy or that he had dreamed it all. He was afraid of where he would be, of who would be there. 'Aragorn, you cannot fool me, I know that you have awakened.' But he recognized the voice and it was for that very reason he feared answering it.

'Estel, my love,' his heart leaped, 'do not shy away from us. Come open your eyes and set them on your wife.'

Fear abandoned him and he opened his eyes. In mere seconds, the previous moment's joy fled for before him stood Lord Elrond and no one else. The elven lord stared back down at him, a look of disgust on his face.

'You dare return here, human,' he emphasized the man's race. 'You dare defy my decree?'

'Ada!' his voice was weak from his illness; he was confused. What had happened? Hadn't Elrond lifted his banishment? Wasn't he free?

'That privilege is not granted to you, human,' he told Strider. 'Did you not think my warning serious? I shall have you hanged for this. Guards!' he called out before continuing his interrogation of Strider.

'Why do you dare return? Did you think you could fool us with your strange looks; that you could fool an elf?'

The guards Elrond had sent for quickly came, entering the room in silence as they awaited further instructions from the elven lord.

'Bind his hands and take him to the courtyard. He is to be hanged for his crimes.' Strider was roughly pulled to his feet, his legs, weak from lying in bed and illness, wouldn't support him though as he tipped dangerously close to the ground. But the guards wouldn't allow their charge to slip out of their grasps so easily; they had a firm hold on his arms, preventing anything from happening to the trespasser. His hands were roughly pulled behind him and tightly bound with a coarse rope. As he was dragged out of the room, he caught a glimpse of Elrond; though the Lord of Imladris tried to show no emotion, his eyes betrayed him. Strider hoped to see a sign of remorse or guilt in the eyes, but saw nothing other than satisfaction at having finally accomplished a great task. It was a fleeting image though, for when he was pulled from the room, before him stood Elladan and Elrohir, twin sons of Elrond.

'Elladan, Elrohir,' his voice was stronger now, but still weak; he sounded pathetic and he knew it, but perhaps he could gain sympathy from them and convince Elrond not to kill him. 'Brothers, please help me,' he begged them as they stared at him stoically. The guards moved to drag Strider along, out to the courtyards as they had been commanded, but Elrohir stopped them.

'Wait,' he told them before taking a step closer to Strider. 'My dear brother,' his voice dripped with sarcasm, 'it is we who brought you here; we who found you tied to a tree like a discarded pet.' Elrohir raised his hand, bringing it level with Strider's forehead. He closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath; a flash of light blinded Strider, sending a wave of pain though his already pounding head. He tried to lean down, an unconscious way of relieving the pain, but the guards wouldn't allow it, so instead he shut his eyes closed, his face tightening at the pain increased and then it stopped. The pounding in his head remained, but the bright light was gone, replaced instead by voices. He opened his eyes, finding himself in a forest. On the ground in front of him, knelt the sons of Elrond, hovering worriedly over a prone body.

'I do not think he is coming back brother,' Elrohir told his brother.

'Do not be silly, of course he will return. You are not trying hard enough,' Elladan chided his brother. He tried, using the same words his brother had to call the man back. After several minutes, he admitted his failure. Leaning back on his haunches, he spoke to his brother, 'You are right little brother; help me to bind his wounds to make the journey home easier.'

'No, brother,' Elrohir cautioned, 'we cannot take this man back. Ada will be most upset.'

'Do not be silly,' Elladan laughed at his younger brother's fear. 'Tis only Estel that he has banished. The men of this word are yet welcome in the House of Elrond.' Elrohir nodded in agreement missing a glint in his brother's eyes as he glanced back down at the man lying before them; yes Ada would be most upset to see Estel once more.

Strider heard himself let out a small moan when they shifted him on the ground, feeling the dampness of the ground seep through the clothing on his back and knew it was cold, yet he could not feel it. For a second he remembered that this was not real, that he shouldn't be feeling anything in this dream, but a blinding pain washed away that thought. He tried to cry out, to let the agony out of his body as quickly as possible, but his mouth would respond.

It was Elrohir who lifted him up to Elladan, who sat ready on his horse.

'Take him as quickly as you can brother,' Strider felt a firm hand around his waist as Elladan place his hand around the man's waist, securing him on the horse as Elrohir backed away. Once again he tried to cry out as pain shot through his body, blinding his eyes and fogging his mind. A voice behind him whispered to the horse, asking the mare to take them home with haste. Each bump, every little jostle sent a new wave of pain through his body, adding onto the constant pain he felt from the hand that kept him tethered to the horse. Slowly the pain was overcoming him, sapping what little strength he had left in him until he felt himself sag against his rescuer.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back in Rivendell, in the same position as before, as if nothing had happened, but Elrohir's look of indifference was gone, replaced by a look so evil that Strider found it hard to recognize the young elf.

'I was going to leave you there,' his sneered, 'not because I did not know who you were, because I was thought it better than to upset ada with a mortal.'

'But I knew it was you,' Elladan interrupted, taking a step forward. Together the two brothers had boxed Strider in; he could feel their anger emanating from their bodies and it unnerved him. What had happened to his brothers? Had they been brainwashed by Elrond, or was this how they had always felt about him.

'I knew it was you, Aragorn,' Elladan spat out the name as though it were poison as he reiterated his words. His voice was lined with anger and bitterness. 'And I knew that Ada would be more than pleased to see you again; he has been seeking you out, but you have eluded us.'

Strider was confused, 'What is going on?' he questioned. 'Why do you speak with such a harsh tone if you have sought me out?'

'Foolish man,' Elrond laughed from behind him, 'you would not understand; I knew you would not. Your mind is far too simple for such cunning thoughts; for complex thinking.'

'I was ignorant,' Elrohir continued, 'but Elladan taught me the truth. You are a menace, Aragorn.' Elrohir motioned to the guards to take Strider away. He wobbled slightly as a kick to his calf drew him out of his daze and moved along with the guards, his mind racing trying desperately to sort out what had happened; to make sense of the harsh words his former family had used against him.

'Brothers,' he called out in desperation one more time, hoping to drag them out of what ever trance they were in. At the same time, he planted his feet, forcing the guards to stop, but they grew tired of his uncooperativeness, viciously kicking him. With a cry of pain, Strider fell to the ground. As he tried, with his bound hands, to get back to his feet, he saw Elrohir come to him.

'You dare call me brother again and I will strike you down where you stand,' Elrohir warned. 'You are a mere mortal, not even capable of being worthy enough to be called brother by an elf,' his voice was thick with hatred and contempt for the man before him. He turned to walk away, but turned back as a new thought came across his mind and he leaned down as if to help Strider up. Strider noticed a change in his face, allowing his cautiousness to fade; perhaps he had gotten through to Elrohir. He gave the elf a small smile, opening his mouth to speak when Elrohir spat in his face and delivered a kick to his stomach. Strider curled up as he tried to make the pain disappear.

'Take him away,' Elrohir rose again and turned his back on Strider. The guard pulled Strider up roughly, not caring that the man was still in pain as they dragged him to the courtyards. It seemed as though the entire house was out there, waiting for the trespasser's execution. Strider knew them all, for he had grown up in this house, among these people, but he gave them no glance as the guards led him up the wooden stairs onto a platform and forced him over to the side. Strider looked up, above him was a rope attached to a pole; below him a trap door, he could see the edges where the door would fall away; leaving him dangling in the air as life slowly left him. So it was real, he thought, this was really happening to him. He was going to die.

'Wait,' he cried out, a thought coming to him. 'What about Gondor; what about man, I am the only one who can save them; who can bring hope to them and rescue them from their plight.'

'You should have considered that before you left, my love,' Strider turned his head; Arwen was there and she was holding something.

'Arwen,' he spoke softly.

'Yes, it is I,' she now stood before him.

'Help me,' he pleaded with her for surely he thought, she was still loyal to him. Nothing could ever break their love, she had once told him, it would hold until the ending of time.

'I cannot,' she sounded disappointed, 'Ada has made his decision. But he has given me permission to give you one thing before your death.' Her hands rose as she lifted the object in her hands above Strider's head. He lowered his head, expected her to embrace him in a final goodbye, but instead he felt a coarse circle fall over his head, landing on his shoulders with a light thump. He looked up at her in shock; her disappointment had faded, replaced now by malevolence.

'My love,' his voice was weak with shock.

'Do not call me such,' she slapped him, 'our love was a mistake for how can a mere mortal capture the love of an elf?' she questioned, giving him some time to answer, but he could not. 'He cannot; your love would have killed me and for that I am glad to see you and your race meet your rightful demise.'

'Step away from him, daughter,' Elrond commanded. He was standing on the ground in front of them. Arwen looked at Strider one last time before walking down the steps to stand at her father's side. Strider looked at them in disbelief even as the guards tied the end of the rope to the loop around his neck, tugging on it to make sure that it was tight and wouldn't separate once the trapdoor was released.

'Strider,' Elrond began, 'precisely one year ago I banished you from this realm and all elven realms. You were never to set foot on elven land under pain of death. Before you left, I removed from you the names to which you were born with and grew up under. I warned you of the consequences should you return, yet you have not heeded my warning and you have returned to us. For this you shall be hanged until dead. Do you wish to enter a plea for mercy?' Elrond asked.

Strider was confused this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Elrond was not evil; he'd never harbored such dislike for mortals. He wanted to say something in his defense, but what could aid him, it was obvious that this Elrond was not the forgiving father that he had known in his childhood. He responded with silence and Elrond looked to the guards.

'Release the door,' he gave a slight nod. One of the guards moved behind Strider, to a lever and pushed it down. Before he knew it, the wood beneath him vanished and Strider felt himself falling only to be caught roughly by the neck, the rope he thought quickly. His feet dangled as he struggled to catch his breath; normally the quick fall and the rough pull of the rope would simply snap a victim's neck, ending their misery in seconds, but sometimes victims were forced to slowly suffocate, knowing that their next breath might be their last and that ultimately their life would end with one last exhalation of breath.

With every passing second Strider felt his breaths growing shallower and the grip on his neck tightening. He thought that the sight of a dying man struggling for each breath would have made the elves turn away, but they watched with growing anticipation, waiting anxiously for the man they hated so much to finally die.

Strider knew it was coming when he sucked in his last breath; it hardly filled his lungs. Already his brain was shutting down from lack of oxygen and his heart he knew would be next. As he let out his last feeble breath, he felt his heart take its last beat and stop as the darkness that had been threatening from the edges of his sight finally overtook him and delivered him into the eternal darkness.

-ducks as objects come flying overhead. Waves a white flag-

Don't say I didn't warn you. But wait, don't leave just yet, there's more.

Reviewer's Responses:

Strider's Girl- sorry about the dream stuff; I really wish he would wake up too, I'm tired of him sleeping. But he's not very well, he needs his sleep. However when he gets better, I'll personally give you a huge drum and a big bucket of ice cold water.

Ara, Goddess of the broken- twistet? Mmm, never thought to describe it like that. But thanks, I was worried the plot was gone and I was just kind of rambling on.

EmmaS- wow, everyday for two weeks? Thanks for you persistence, I promise I will continue updating.

sielge- life or death, that is the ultimate question.

Once again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and those who have stuck with me, stick around for a little longer to see what other madness I can come up with.