Well, here's the next chapter, just as I promised. Hopefully it's up to par with my other stuff- it's only going to get better from now. Please read, relax, and enjoy. Oh and don't forget to review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, but I wish sometimes that I did.

Warnings: I don't want to say anything to give it away, but there's some pain. No torture though, not yet at least.

Aragorn shifted slightly on the back of his horse. He'd been riding steadily for five hours now, trying to get as far as possible before sunset. The memory of leaving was still fresh in his mind; it was so much different from last time. His entire family had come to wish him a safe journey and to see him off. For a brief moment, he had wished they hadn't been there, that they'd just let him go. Then it would have been easier, especially with Arwen. Once he recovered enough, he'd fallen so quickly back into his old routines and habits, that it made leaving all the more difficult.

Unfortunately, he hadn't had the time to see Arwen alone one last time for his brothers insisted on helping him. They said if they didn't he'd wind up forgetting something. But he'd known better than that; he was sure he'd seen a tear in Ellandan's eye as he waved him goodbye. Despite all of the fond feelings he had for his family and home, he knew his separation from Arwen hardest part of being away. He tried to give her a proper goodbye, the goodbye two lovers should give, but he found it impossible with his family so close. In the end, he'd simply said goodbye and mounted his horse. He'd never felt so terrible and childish. She deserved better and he wasn't bold enough to give it in front of his family. He needed to say something to Elrond about it; the only question was how to broach the topic. It wasn't easy.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when his ears picked up a rustling of leaves behind him. Speaking gently, he called for his horse to slow as he tried to place the source of the noise. As Caladwen obeyed his command, he heard the faint pattering of horse hooves behind him. There was definitely someone behind him and they were slowing to match his pace, their horse's pattering matching his own. He wasn't sure if the person coming up on him was a friend or a foe, but he hoped they would pass without a question. Speaking softly once again, he urged Caladwen to move to the edge of the path. As she did so, Strider pulled the hood up to cover his face as he had seen the many rangers who frequented his home do. While it provided him with some secretiveness, he was also grateful for the shield it gave from the piercing sunlight. After so many hours in the afternoon sunlight, his head was beginning to ache. He knew it wasn't wise to stop here though. Silently he thanked his father, as he rummaged through his bag to find the vial he'd given him for the headaches he suffered. Once the medicine took effect, he would be able to continue without worrying about the pain increasing and it gave him a reason to slow down to see who this rider was. He allowed a few drops of the liquid to fall into his mouth before turning his attention back to the current situation.

There was only one safe pass through this area and Strider hoped to make it through without trouble. With luck, he thought, the rider would not even take note of his presence, but he merely wished from the rider to be a friend. As he slowed his horse even further, the pattering became evident once again and this time it didn't slow. Something strange struck him- somehow the rider was much closer, perhaps within a moment or two of passing him; he hadn't thought that much time had passed. Maybe, he told himself, he'd judged wrong at first. Before long, he felt the presence of someone behind him and heard the pattering in full force now.

'Good evening,' the rider spoke, nodding his head once in Strider's direction. As the rider passed, his rough hands tightly holding the reins of his horse, a piece of silver at the rider's neck splintered the waning sunlight, splashing it haphazardly on Strider's face. From the safety of the darkness his hood created, he tried to make out the shape of the silver piece. A circle, it seemed to be, with some shape inside. He strained his eyes, but could make out no more, yet it seemed familiar. Strider recalled the man's face as he had turned to greet him. Thankfully, he had not turned up his hood, allowing Strider to see his face fully. He had a full beard- the same dark brown as his shoulder length hair. His eyes appeared youthful, being a bright cool blue. Only the gray hairs that speckled his hair and beard showed his age. Strider tried to shake it, but could not help but think that he knew this man.

As the rider's pace quickened, Strider tried hard to place him. He recognized the cloak and those piercing eyes, he felt as if they'd looked at him several times before. And those hands, he knew them too. They were the hands of a healer and then it hit him.

'Glynn,' he called out, urging his horse to catch up with his old friend. When the rider didn't stop, however, he chided himself. Perhaps he was wrong; he shouldn't have been so foolish as to call out. When he caught up, he slowed his horse to match the other's pace. They rode in silence for a moment before the man finally spoke.

'Greetings Strider,' he turned to face the young man. 'It has been a long time.' Somewhat stunned by the sudden greeting and Glynn previous lack of response, Strider quickly recovered.

'Yes it has been,' he replied, relieved that he had been right after all.

'You seem to have fared well these past six months.'

'Aye, as have you. I trust all is going well now,' Strider returned in the same formal tone.

'Yes, young Strider, all is going well.'

'Good. Where are you headed to?'

'Caugha,' the healer answered. 'And yourself?'

'I'm headed to Caugha as well.'

'Then I guess we shall be traveling partners.'

'Indeed,' Strider answered with a slight nod of his head.

'What is it you seek in Caugha,' Glynn queried.

'The rangers we once traveled with.'

'It seems we are on much the same quest, for I seek them as well and might I say I am surprised not to see you with them. I remember your delight at having completed the initiation. Do you still honor your oath?'

'I do, but I was separated from them during an ambush nearly four months ago. I was captured and didn't see where they fled to. I don't even know who survived. Our captain, I know however, did not,' Aragorn's voice dropped at the end as he lowered his head in sorrow and guilt. He didn't see the beheading, but he'd heard it and that had been enough to haunt him with nightmares of it.

'Don't blame yourself, you can't be held at fault for what happened. You, yourself were captured, helpless to aid your captain.'

Strider had heard much the same from his family during his recovery as he berated himself over and over again for what happened. He'd worked hard to come to terms with it all, but there was still a long way to go. Setting aside the thoughts, he forced himself back to the current situation.

'And what have you been doing. You left so suddenly and no one would tell me what happened. I feared something terrible happened to you.'

It was Glynn's turn to pause. He still remembered that day he left vividly. Strider had just taken his Oath and had come to him to show off the brooch he'd just received. It was his badge of honor; the boy had worked hard for it and deserved it, but Glynn had yelled at him for his childishness. So consumed in the yelling he had been, that he never noticed Strider fading until he dropped and it was too late. He'd worked so hard to bring him back to life. Flashes of bloody towels, Strider's unmoving chest, and his lifeless grey eyes staring at him struck him as he remembered the day. They threatened to rob him of his breath. He'd worked hard to forget it all. At times, he still fought with himself; at times during those past six months he believed that he was responsible for the lad's death, though logically, he knew that Strider had lived. He was alive when he left camp that day, but still the lifeless eyes would forever haunt him.

Strider sensed the sadness and guilt flooding his friend's mind.

'What troubles you,' he asked quietly.

'Memories,' Glynn finally spoke after another short pause. 'Memories of that day when I allowed you to die.' Initially, Strider didn't understand, but as quickly as his mouth opened to question what Glynn referred to, Strider's mind made the connection.

'And now, my friend,' he laid his hand on the other's shoulder in encouragement, 'it is my turn to tell you don't worry. You aren't to blame. What has happened, has happened. It is done and shall remain so.'

'Aye,' he agreed, 'you speak the truth, but the images will forever haunt me. I am relieved,' he sat up straighter, attempting to change the mood of the conversation, 'to see that you are well, however.'

'That I am and am grateful for it.'

They rode on for a while longer, gently urging their tired horses to move just a little faster. Just before the darkness blotted out the last ray of sunlight, Strider asked to stop.

'I can't go any further,' he spoke, his voice weary.

'What is wrong,' Glynn stopped, turning to face the young man, surprised to see his face drawn. He hadn't shown any sign of injury. Perhaps he was simply tired; he didn't know how long Strider had been on the road.

'I'm afraid I'm not totally well,' Strider lowered his head, partly from shame of weakness, but also in an effort to ease the ache. 'Not all of the injuries I sustained in my capture healed properly.' And I fear they never shall, he added silently.

'What aches?'

'My head. I have never had it ache this much. I've tried a medicine given to me when I left my home, but it doesn't work for long and the ache returns each time with greater intensity. I'm sorry Glynn,' Strider met his friend's eyes, 'but I've pushed through it as long as possible for I know Caugha is within a day's reach and it would do us well to get as close as possible today, but I fear I shall not make it more than a few moments more before the pain is unbearable.'

Glynn now understood why the young man had kept his hood up even though the sun's rays poured down on them for the remainder of the afternoon.

'Unfortunately we can't rest here. I, however, have a medicine that will help you as we search for a campsite,' Glynn searched in his pack for the small glass vial that held the medicinal liquid. Once found, he held it out for Strider to take.

'What is it?' he asked as he took the vial and examined its contents. Opening the vial, he sniffed it. Strangely, the clear substance had no odor.

'It is a medicine brewed in my native land. I am not sure of the herbal names in Common tongue, but I guarantee it will relieve your pain. Take only a drop or two though for when one is not accustomed to it, its affects can be quite potent and unsettling.' Alarmed, Strider backed away from the vial and put the lid back on as if it suddenly became a poison whose vapors would kill.

'Is it addicting,' he asked.

'Of course not,' Glynn told him. 'Take it, it'll relieve you of your pain and allow us to find a campsite for you to rest.' Though he tried to reassure Strider, he could see that he was still unsure and hesitated to put the strange substance in his body.

'Am I not your friend and a capable healer. Would I ever lead you to harm?'

'No.'

'Then trust me Strider. Take it and be rid of your pain.'

Finding comfort in his words, Strider opened the vial once again. He was still surprised by the lack of odor; rarely had he taken a medicine that didn't hold an odor. Attached to the lid was a small cylinder. Gently, he plucked it from its resting spot on the lid and dipped one end into the vial, plugging the other with his finger. He carefully pulled it out and allowed just a drop to fall on his tongue. It tasted foul and he instantly regretting taking it. It was worse than his father's medicines he thought. Opening his eyes that he didn't realize he'd shut until then, he saw that as he'd fought to recover from the taste, Glynn had taken the vial and returned it to his pouch.

'It will take a short while to take effect, but you will begin to feel its effects before long. Until then, however, we will take a short rest,' he informed Strider.

'Thanks,' Strider mumbled as he lowered his aching head to rest on the neck of his horse. The past few minutes of talking and debating had not helped his head, rather it was now worse. He couldn't understand why this time it was so bad. Perhaps, he though, his thinking delayed somewhat from the pain, it was from the riding. He had ridden, after all, for nearly seven hours with only a few short breaks to rest his horse. Whatever the cause, however, he didn't care right now. He hurt too much to do so, rather, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

The next thing he knew, someone had a firm grip on his shoulder and was calling for him to wake. Strider found it difficult, however, to wake himself. He felt as though there was a fog over him.

Some how, though, he managed to open his eyes and face his worried friend, but he found the face blurry and unfocused. Perhaps, there was more to this headache than he had assumed, he slowly wondered as he heard himself distantly answer that he was fine to Glynn's concerned query. They were moving now he realized, though when they had began, he couldn't recall.

Occasionally, when he was very sick, he remembered, he'd get a headache so bad that he felt sluggish even though he'd not take something. Perhaps, his fuzzy mind thought, this was what was happening now.

'We are here,' someone told him, gently helping him to dismount. It was Glynn, his aching mind told him. He felt himself being set down on the cold, damp earth. In the distance, he heard a rustling. Someone, Glynn, reminded himself, was looking for something.

'Let me help you,' he heard him self say, though when he decided to speak he didn't remember. Struggling with his body, he forced it to follow the offer of the words and stumbled towards the blurry figure.

'Strider,' Glynn turned to the man trying to meet him, 'you are in no condition to help me. You need rest.' He turned the man back towards the original spot he had set him down. Fortunately, Glynn had found Strider's bedroll without trouble. In the condition the man was currently, he didn't want him lying on the cold ground and possibly catch a cold.

'But I want to help,' Strider mumbled as he was led back. Glynn decided to ignore the man, instead setting him on the ground. Undoing the bedroll, he shook it out and laid it on the ground, smoothing it somewhat. He then turned back to Strider, who'd fallen to one side, and carefully moved him onto the bedroll. Once the man was settled, turned to setting up camp. He doubted Strider would wake during the night. Glancing at the young man as he did so, he wondering if he'd perhaps given him too much of the medicine and he hoped that he hadn't caused him harm.

Thanks for reading.