Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Not even the quotes.

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"To be always with a woman and not to make love to her is more difficult
than to raise the dead" – St. Bernard

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It took them the better part of a fortnight to finish the mountain crossing even though the snow was not as deep on the western side of the range.

They were nearing the lower fork of the Loudwater River and Annowe was sincerely glad to be returning to Rivendell. She was exhausted, her clothes were torn and dirty and she needed desperately to get away from Legolas as she could feel her desire for him becoming stronger the longer they were together.

It always happened this way – the sexual tension between them would grow to a fever pitch and instead of consummating their relationship, they would fight, go their separate ways, make up and then the whole thing would start all over again.

Legolas frowned as he looked back on Annowe. She just more quiet and introspective since they had crossed over the mountains and it made him wonder why. Had she noticed how he had asked for air in the river more times than strictly necessary because he enjoyed the sensation of her lips on his? Was she upset because she had seen him watching her when he thought she was asleep? Could she feel his desire for her and pull away to spare him the hurt of an outright rejection?

He could go mad following this line of thought he realized and sighed.

"Are we stopping for the night?" she asked as she came up behind him.

"Yes, I think so," he replied.

"I'll be glad to get back to Rivendell," she said quietly.

"And I," he agreed.

She spread her blanket on the ground and pulled some Lembas from her pack then sat down to eat. He stood there watching her for a few minutes and then finally ventured the question.

"Is there anything bothering you?" he asked gently.

She looked surprised at the thought. "No, not particularly. I'm just very tired," she answered, which was mostly true.

He looked doubtful. "You've been awfully quiet lately," he said casually and sat down across from her.

"Yes, I've been thinking," she admitted, daring him to continue his line of questioning.

He narrowed his gray eyes at her. She was not being totally honest with him, he was sure of that and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the whole truth. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead anyway.

"About what?" He pressed.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow at him and didn't answer for several seconds. He must be completely oblivious, she thought.

"Do you truly want to know?" in a tone that said, "you're asking for it".

"Yes, I want to know. I want to know that I am not the cause of your distress," he challenged.

Then she smiled and touched him arm lightly. "Don't be silly. I would have told you!" She scolded. "Besides, why should you have all the fun brooding?"

"You didn't answer my question," he said, levelly. He was going to get this out into the open once and for all. "I want to know what is on your mind."

She swore in frustration. He was determined to drag it out of her. Well, maybe it was time, she thought. We've been doing this dance for ages so maybe we should discuss it instead of tiptoeing around it.

"I can't stand being around you any longer," she answered him flatly.

His eyes opened wide in surprise. "Why?" he asked innocently. This was certainly not the answer he had expected.

She groaned inwardly. "Because you're driving me mad with all of these stupid, pointless questions!" she fairly shouted at him as she sprang to her feet. Now she really was mad at him. She stalked off to find some peace and quiet.

He watched her go and mentally cursed himself. He should have known that backing her into a corner was a sure way to provoke her temper. He'd certainly done it enough times over the years. He sighed heavily and unrolled his own blanket, lying down it and staring up at the darkening sky.

He should have just told her and to Mordor with the consequences. He was tired of this game. It had been going on for years and he wanted it to end, one way or the other.

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The moon was well in the sky when she returned.

"I apologize for shouting at you," she said quietly. "No apology necessary. I should not have pressed you," he admitted, sitting up to look at her.

She sat down on her blanket and pulled out a comb. Silently, she unbraided her hair and began to run the comb thoughtfully through her auburn locks.

This was serious business indeed, he realized. The hair combing ritual meant that whatever was on her mind had been there for quite some time and she was trying to come to grips with it.

He watched her in silence. After a time, she looked at him and asked, "how many more nights before we are back in Rivendell?"

"Three, counting tonight," he answered and held his tongue of questions.

She nodded and continued to comb her hair. When she finished, she re- braided her hair and curled up to sleep without another word to him.

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