Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Not even the quotes.
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"Pain and passion are linked together, ever I find them hand in hand." –
Laurence Hope
*********
The next day was much the same as the previous with Annowe following behind Legolas and keeping her own counsel. She was torn with the desire to bring her feelings for him out into the open and the knowledge that it would do neither of them any good. Being around him constantly just made the situation worse – especially under these circumstances.
Seeing him every morning as the sun rose in those gray eyes and kissed his skin with a touch of pink. Smelling him as he brushed past her or sat near to her in the evenings. Watching him sleep when it was her turn to stand guard. It was enough to drive her to the edge of reason.
It was not quite dusk when Legolas turned to her, telling her they would rest the night. She nodded and avoided his eyes. As they sat eating their Lembas and staring at the small fire, he hummed a soft tune. She cocked her head and listened.
When he finished, she went and sat beside him, unsure of how to proceed or even what to say. This time, he did not press her for answers. He had tried to occupy his thoughts elsewhere during the day. She had re-assured him that her wool-gathering was not to concern him and that she would return to her normal self in a day or two. Once she could get into the Loudwater River.
He stole a glance at her and found that she was scrutinizing him rather closely. She stood up, dug through her pack until she found her comb and then sat down behind him.
"Do you mind?" she asked and held the comb so he could see it.
This was more serious than he ever imagined, he realized uneasily.
"You want to comb my hair?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Do you mind?" she asked again.
He sighed. "No." Not that he had much of a choice in the matter.
Carefully, she took out his braids and gently began to comb his platinum hair. He felt himself growing drowsy under her gentle touch. The rhythm of first the comb then her hand over his hair soothed him in a way he had not known since he was an elfling.
His thoughts began to drift as he relaxed. She could feel the tension easing out of him and sighed with relief. It was her fault that he had become so distraught over the last few days. He was worried that he had caused her silence when it was more the way she felt about him that was bothering her. She re-braided his hair in a different pattern and sat in front of him. He drowsily opened his eyes to look at her.
"That was quite pleasant," he murmured.
She smiled and laid the comb aside. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
He slowly took one of her small hands in his and kissed her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt as if she was melting inside and he saw an unexpected flash of fear in her eyes.
He had never known her to fear anything. "Now we're getting to the bottom of things," he thought and gently let her hand slip from his grasp.
She brought her hand back up and stroked his luminous cheek tenderly. His skin was warm and soft to her touch. Hesitantly, she leaned over and lightly touched her lips to his. He quivered at her touch and drew in a quick breath.
Immediately, she sprang to her feet and apologized. "I am so sorry – I didn't mean to, to do that," she stammered, her foot catching on the comb and increasing her distress.
He blinked in confusion at her. "No harm done," he soothed, not sure if he should approach her or not. He wanted her to kiss him again but thought better of it and decided to patiently wait for her to sit back down next to him.
She cursed, snatched up the offending comb and paced for a few minutes, slapping the comb against her open palm. After a few minutes of frantic pacing, she flopped down on her blanket and eyed him anxiously. He sat there, watching her patiently. Neither of them spoke.
"Well, what's done is done," she thought in resignation. "No point in agonizing over it now."
"Goodnight, Legs," she said as she pulled her cloak over her head and lay down to sleep. Again, she cursed her wayward heart and his unbearable beauty.
"Goodnight," he replied but did not close his eyes to sleep. Instead, he sat there wondering how much longer he could endure this torture of being near her without ever holding her in his arms.
******
*******
"Pain and passion are linked together, ever I find them hand in hand." –
Laurence Hope
*********
The next day was much the same as the previous with Annowe following behind Legolas and keeping her own counsel. She was torn with the desire to bring her feelings for him out into the open and the knowledge that it would do neither of them any good. Being around him constantly just made the situation worse – especially under these circumstances.
Seeing him every morning as the sun rose in those gray eyes and kissed his skin with a touch of pink. Smelling him as he brushed past her or sat near to her in the evenings. Watching him sleep when it was her turn to stand guard. It was enough to drive her to the edge of reason.
It was not quite dusk when Legolas turned to her, telling her they would rest the night. She nodded and avoided his eyes. As they sat eating their Lembas and staring at the small fire, he hummed a soft tune. She cocked her head and listened.
When he finished, she went and sat beside him, unsure of how to proceed or even what to say. This time, he did not press her for answers. He had tried to occupy his thoughts elsewhere during the day. She had re-assured him that her wool-gathering was not to concern him and that she would return to her normal self in a day or two. Once she could get into the Loudwater River.
He stole a glance at her and found that she was scrutinizing him rather closely. She stood up, dug through her pack until she found her comb and then sat down behind him.
"Do you mind?" she asked and held the comb so he could see it.
This was more serious than he ever imagined, he realized uneasily.
"You want to comb my hair?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Do you mind?" she asked again.
He sighed. "No." Not that he had much of a choice in the matter.
Carefully, she took out his braids and gently began to comb his platinum hair. He felt himself growing drowsy under her gentle touch. The rhythm of first the comb then her hand over his hair soothed him in a way he had not known since he was an elfling.
His thoughts began to drift as he relaxed. She could feel the tension easing out of him and sighed with relief. It was her fault that he had become so distraught over the last few days. He was worried that he had caused her silence when it was more the way she felt about him that was bothering her. She re-braided his hair in a different pattern and sat in front of him. He drowsily opened his eyes to look at her.
"That was quite pleasant," he murmured.
She smiled and laid the comb aside. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
He slowly took one of her small hands in his and kissed her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt as if she was melting inside and he saw an unexpected flash of fear in her eyes.
He had never known her to fear anything. "Now we're getting to the bottom of things," he thought and gently let her hand slip from his grasp.
She brought her hand back up and stroked his luminous cheek tenderly. His skin was warm and soft to her touch. Hesitantly, she leaned over and lightly touched her lips to his. He quivered at her touch and drew in a quick breath.
Immediately, she sprang to her feet and apologized. "I am so sorry – I didn't mean to, to do that," she stammered, her foot catching on the comb and increasing her distress.
He blinked in confusion at her. "No harm done," he soothed, not sure if he should approach her or not. He wanted her to kiss him again but thought better of it and decided to patiently wait for her to sit back down next to him.
She cursed, snatched up the offending comb and paced for a few minutes, slapping the comb against her open palm. After a few minutes of frantic pacing, she flopped down on her blanket and eyed him anxiously. He sat there, watching her patiently. Neither of them spoke.
"Well, what's done is done," she thought in resignation. "No point in agonizing over it now."
"Goodnight, Legs," she said as she pulled her cloak over her head and lay down to sleep. Again, she cursed her wayward heart and his unbearable beauty.
"Goodnight," he replied but did not close his eyes to sleep. Instead, he sat there wondering how much longer he could endure this torture of being near her without ever holding her in his arms.
******
