"Legolas, I cannot do this," Annowe hesitated and tugged on the elf's hand, pulling him to a stop. They had not gone very far over the dark battlefield when Annowe had begun to grow anxious and fearful, her steps slowing until she finally came to a halt.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, hearing the fear and hesitation in her voice.

"There is nothing to fear," he said gently, trying to urge her toward the safety of Minas Tirith. He was with her and he would not allow any harm to come to her.

"It," she took a deep breath. "It brings back memories of the Dead Marshes." She shivered at the memory of searching for Darion's remains and closed her eyes, trying to force the thoughts away.

"Oh," Legolas answered awkwardly. He could not think of anything else to say. He was anxious to return to the White City and although did not fear the dead, the cries of the dying were unnerving to him. Annowe had said as much and now he understood how they could invade her dreams on occasion.

"We need to get to safety, Annowe," he said quietly, hoping that he could gently coax her to keep walking.

Silence. He could sense the fear in her touch and see the anguish on her face. She wanted to go to the city but she would have to cross more than just the physical battle plain to reach safety. Legolas knew she was fighting her fear and did not want to push her. The though of her searching the Dead Marshes for her former lover still gave him the chills and he could not blame her for being hesitant now.

She drew a deep breath and he could see her steeling herself to continue. Then she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to gather her courage as he waited patiently. After a few more moments she took a few tentative steps and they began to slowly walk toward the warm lights and safety of the White City again.

Legolas reached out and took her hand, squeezing it firmly in his own to reassure her. She gripped his hand tightly and tried to concentrate on his flaxen hair illuminated by the moonlight hoping to keep the memories of the Dead Marshes at bay. She cursed her own fear, hating how helpless it made her feel. For many years after losing Darion in the Last Alliance she had tried to cope with her demons by drowning them in a wine bottle and for a short while that had helped. But now, she would have to face them – again – with Legolas. Would he understand? Would he turn her away once he realized how vulnerable she was despite her outward demeanor?

True, they had mated and elves mated forever but would he regret it? Would he reject her if he saw how frightened and weak she was? She swallowed hard, willing herself to go on. He would leave her, she was sure of it. He would sense her fear and grow disgusted with her weakness and leave her – alone in the middle of her nightmare.

Legolas could sense the trepidation in Annowe's touch. Her hand was shaking in his and her step was again growing slower. He stopped and turned to face her, concerned that she was slipping into her morbid memories again. Her face was pale and drawn; her dark eyes wide and staring. She looked like a terrified animal and Legolas slowly drew her into his arms to comfort her.

Annowe clung to him fiercely, needing to feel him, to know he was real and still with her. A soft sob escaped her and Legolas squeezed her tightly, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words to her.

"I'm here, Annowe," he assured her. "I am here."

"Promise you won't leave me here," she begged, her fear overriding every other thought.

The thought was so absurd that Legolas had to smile. He would never leave her, especially now that he knew how much she needed him. Fortunately, Annowe could not see his face and he kept the smile from his voice when he answered.

"I promise I will not leave you here," he agreed, squeezing her tighter.

She clung to him for a few more moments trying to gather some courage from him. Legolas placed his elegant hands on either side of her face and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes. They had lost none of the terror he had seen in them earlier.

"What are you so afraid of?" He asked her softly. He had never known her to be so frightened and he found it quite odd and disconcerting.

Annowe felt the question like an arrow to her heart. What was she afraid of? The answer hit her like a physical blow. Losing Legolas. Losing him like she had lost Darion so long ago. She struggled to speak but could only manage a strangled squeak.

"What is it, Annowe?" Legolas encouraged her. He was growing anxious at her behavior and wondered if they would have to wait until daylight to cross to the city.

"I'm afraid," she breathed. "And I'm afraid that if I tell you what I'm afraid of it will make it come true. And I don't want it to come true."

"You believe you are that powerful?" He couldn't help but smile this time.

He felt her body relax and she grinned weakly at him. "No, I'm not that powerful," she admitted and stepped closer to him to lean against his breastplate.

"Can you take that off, please?" She asked, needing to feel his warmth and hear his heartbeat in her ear.

Legolas sighed. She was acting quite strangely but if removing his breastplate made her more comfortable then he would do it. Her nimble fingers helped him unbuckle the straps holding it to him and he shrugged it off. It landed with a dull thud and Annowe instantly wrapped her arms around his slim waist and pressed her ear to his chest.

His heart thumped steadily in his breast and she sighed in relief. He was here - warm, alive and in her arms. She closed her eyes and gave thanks to Eru that he had been spared. She could not bear the thought of losing him.

He held her close, feeling her quivering against him like a frightened child. "Are you going to tell me now?" He asked gently.

"I'm afraid that my love is a curse," she managed to blurt out.

Legolas blinked and tried to make sense of her words. "A curse? How do you mean?"

Her small hands gripped his tunic. "That just by me caring for someone means they are cursed," she whispered. "That since you and I have mated, I've doomed you. That's what I'm afraid of."

"I don't feel 'doomed' if that helps," Legolas answered hopefully, sincerely puzzled by her fear.

"But what if it's true, Legolas?" She almost wailed. "What if by loving you I've cursed you? I cannot help but think that is what happened to Darion. That we were never meant to mate and when we did it sealed his fate. I would just – just die if anything happened to you. I could not bear it!"

Had she not been so distraught he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, instead he squeezed her tightly. "Shhh," he soothed, rubbing her back reassuringly.

But he remembered so long ago on the scouting mission when she had confessed her feelings for him and had explained to him why she believed they could not be together. It was all starting to make sense to him now - her fear for his safety, her reluctance to see him anything other than as a friend and her tentativeness during their mating. But she had finally given herself to him in the end, stirring up her old fears that had remained safely hidden until now.

Legolas felt a pang of guilt at this realization. He had desired her so completely that he could not understand her reluctance to see him as anything more than a friend. He thought it must be some shortcoming of his own – not her overwhelming fear that she would curse him by mating with him. He squeezed her tightly in reassurance and understanding.

"Annowe," he began softly. "I don't care."

She looked at him in horror, her eyes welling with tears.

"No more crying," he said firmly. "It was MY choice as well. I am the one who backed you into a corner remember? I am the one who made you admit your own feelings for me."

She opened her mouth to protest but he stilled her by placing one elegant finger over her parted lips.

"No. You listen," he said resolutely. "There are two people in this, Annowe, not just you. I had a choice. I could have ignored how I felt but I did not. I wanted to mate with you, Annowe. Even after you told me about Darion. Even after I knew how afraid you were for my safety. I had a choice and I made it. I wanted you. I still want you – curse or no. You are my mate now and I would not trade that for all the mithril in middle earth."

Annowe looked at him, so beautiful in the moonlight and wondered how such a fair and noble creature had ever come into her life. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, knowing that her words could not ever convey how completely she loved him. Legolas held her close, feeling the desire in her kiss and he smiled against her lips.

"Legolas," she breathed when their lips eventually parted. "I'm sorry for being such a dolt. You must think I'm the most skittish creature in the world for behaving like this."

"No," he mused, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. "I'd be more worried if you were not bothered by some of the things you have seen. Especially now since I have witnessed the horrors of war as well. Believe me, I've often wondered exactly how you managed to cope without going mad."

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the dead and dying all around them and the smell of death in the air.

"Let us make haste to the White City," she said, taking his hand and marching resolutely toward Minas Tirith. She had faced her fear and realized that she could not turn back now. Legolas needed her and she could not – she would not – let him down.

"Let us make haste, indeed," he agreed. "I have some celebrating of my own to do," Legolas smiled mischievously in the dark and squeezed her small hand.