:::

III III III

Time seemed to have frozen. Or, perhaps it was rather that time kept racing on, while everything else had frozen. At least as far as Anne was concerned, this appeared to be the case. She doubted that she would have been able to move, even if she had tried. The reason was not that she was being held in place; while the Elf's hand still lay on the back of her head, it did not apply any pressure at all.

She felt strangely detached from the world. It briefly had occurred to her how exposed they probably were right now; what if there were more of those people… how many of the villagers were part of this, or had they all been deceived by the strange healer as well? Were they really safe here?

All of those thoughts and the associated fears were oddly muffled, though. Anne felt like she was surrounded by thick fog, or layers of cotton, which nothing could penetrate. It was almost as if she were not in the middle of a meadow near the village anymore, but at some other, strange place - high above, where nothing and nobody could reach or hurt her. She also had the very odd notion that the Elf's warm hand was the only thing holding her in that place.

After-effects of the shock, she thought dully. That, and some serious loss of any sense of reality.

The one she was putting her trust and hopes in, was after all lying struck down on the 'battlefield'. Even so, the fact that he – apart from having raised his arm – was still not moving began to worry Anne. He also had not said a single word since opening his eyes again. How far did this paralysis go?

"Are you all right?"

His question came so sudden and seemed so inadequate for the situation, Anne was unsure whether she had not perhaps misheard him. His tone was devoid of any emotion that might have indicated any real interest, but she was so relieved to hear his voice that she, for once, did not mind.

"Yes," she whispered, dimly wondering whether it should not have been her asking that question.

Feeling a little awkward, and (not so little) embarrassed, Anne wanted to lift her head, but in the same instant, she felt a jolt going through the Elf's body. He sat up in a surprisingly swift, and seemingly easy motion that nearly landed her in his lap, and probably would have if his hand had not still been on the back of her neck. She struggled a little to straighten up next to him, and then anxiously looked at his face. He simply sat there with his head slightly bent, one leg drawn up to his chest. His expression did not betray anything; if he felt any pain or weakness, the only indication of this was his slightly heavy breathing, deep and slow through the nose. Then he slowly turned his head to look at her, his gaze slightly hooded, but level and calm.

"Then why are you crying?"

Anne stared back at him for a moment, then swallowed and looked down.

"I am not," she sniffed, hastily wiping her cheeks with one hand in order to dispose of any proof of this untruth. She wished he would let go of her.

He didn't. Instead, he just watched her with a 'why do you even bother'-expression on the marble-like face. Anne was just about to sulkily advise him to mind his own business (which apparently was far more serious than hers anyway) when she felt him tightening his grip on her neck; he pulled her head towards him until his nose nearly touched her cheek.

Anne barely had had time to exhale on a feeble squeak and dimly wonder what was happening, before his warm breath trailed over her skin and sent a shiver down her spine. The feeling of unrealness grew even stronger; at the same time, she was distinctly aware of the short, bristly grass underneath her hands that was prickling her palms, of the sweet, earthy, somewhat dusty smell of the sunlit meadow, and the clean, barely detectable scent of the Elf's skin. He was so close that Anne could see a tiny scar just above his cheekbone, a thin white line that was just a shade paler than the rest of his face. A strange jolt went through her stomach when she noted that his lips were only inches away from hers.

A couple of pale yellow butterflies tumbled by as a warm breeze rustled through the grass, causing the dry blades to whisper. The balmy gust of wind lifted a few strands of the Elf's dark hair and blew them across Anne's face - they were warm and silky, and she could smell something deep, vaguely sweet and woody. Slightly light-headed she lowered her gaze, and as she stared at his throat she could see his pulse beating at the base of his neck.

Anne felt that perhaps she should say something.

Anything.

"I, um…"

The words died on her lips as she felt him tilt his head a little further; his nose brushed along her jaw, and then down the side of her neck. The sun was very hot on Anne's face all of a sudden, which was odd because it was warming her back while her front was in the shadow. Also, it felt like the butterflies from just now had somehow found a way into her stomach, where they had magically multiplied. A couple of them even seemed to be making their way up towards her throat.

Anne forced her mind away from that very intelligent line of thoughts, and firmly closed her eyes, as if this might shut out reality. What was he doing? Had the poison on the dart affected his clear thinking? Strangely enough, it appeared to have affected hers, and that even without hitting her. Maybe she had been hit without noticing? That would at least explain her sudden inability to breathe evenly, and why she would not push him away. Yes, no doubt that had to be it.

Then the Elf shifted slightly and raised his head again, effectively emptying Anne's head of all thoughts of poison and darts. For a moment his face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath upon her lips.

A second later he had let go off her. It happened so abruptly that Anne, who was blinking her eyes open, disoriented, only realised what had happened when he was already getting to his feet.

"It does not come from your skin," he said, his voice breaking the spell that seemed to have been lying on Anne. "They probably used it to mask the corpse's smell."

"What does… my skin… corpse?"

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was also far too focused on her hammering heartbeat to truly care.

For a moment, she had actually thought that…

But no, that would be ridiculous!

However, ridiculous or not, for a moment – an insane moment – it had almost seemed like he was going to kiss her. Apart from being fairly inappropriate and awfully timed, and the last thing that she wanted. It was a good thing that he appeared to have come to his senses. And yet … the thought that he almost might have… well, it was rather unsettling, to say the least. And now he was acting like nothing had happened?

"What… what does not come from me?" she finally managed to get out, while Legolas brushed off his clothes and then went over to the horses.

He really was not going to address anything … else? Apparently not, and maybe that had to be expected. Admittedly, there were perhaps more important things to worry about right now, but all the same... Aside from the fact that his timing left a lot to be desired, if he really thought that she would just go along with his strange mood swings, he was delusional!

"The smell of the Hûdâl," said Legolas in response to her already half-forgotten question, while glancing over his shoulder, and giving her a look as if she had questioned whether two and two really equalled four.

Slowly but surely starting to feel decidedly irritated with him, Anne staggered upright and followed the Elf, who now stepped around the horses.

'Well, pardon me for not being as cavalier as him, about stumbling over dead bodies every other day and getting attacked or nearly killed by mad villagers, armed with blowguns and poisonous darts!'

Speaking of both…

Anne swallowed as she watched Legolas approach the lifeless form of the 'healer' – or whatever he really might have been – and turned the body around with one foot. He continued to speak like this were nothing out of the ordinary, while grasping the shaft of the intact arrow, and, with a sickening, wet sound, yanked it out of the man's chest. Anne hastily turned away from the horrible sight, nausea building up in her stomach.

"The smell only lingers in your hair and clothes, but not on your skin. I also noticed it before, in the village, so I assume they used Hûdâl to mask the stench of putrefaction and rot. It must have been a lot stronger inside the room of the girl. Hûdâl also has the property to delay the process of decay, therefore it is often an ingredient in mixtures used by embalmers."

"But the whole house stank of it," said Anne, who was trying to follow, bewildered. His stoical talk of putrefaction and rot did nothing to pacify her revolting stomach. "Did you not smell it when you came into the hall?"

"Another delightful quality of the toxin this vermin had chosen for his poorly planned operation."

Anne turned around to see that Legolas was staring down at the dead man to his feet, a look of disgust and sovereign contempt on his face.

"It first attacks the victim's senses. I barely smelled anything by the time I entered that house."

The Elf bent down, presumably to examine the body, and Anne quickly turned away once more; perhaps he was about to wrench out the damaged arrow as well, so as not to leave any traces behind or something like that. Her stomach was churning enough already. At least now she knew why he had reacted so appalled after discovering that she had used that herb for washing herself.

'Not that he could not simply have told me that in the first place,' she thought dryly, while, to be on the safe side, still standing with her back to him.

Only then, slowly (and belatedly) the full meaning of his earlier words sunk in.

"The smell lingers in your hair and clothes, but not on your skin."

So that had been the reason for his strange behaviour from before? To her growing annoyance, Anne could not suppress another shiver at the memory of how his warm fingers had felt on her neck, how he had pulled her towards him to … to sniff at her! To find out whether or not she smelt of that damned weed!

She slowly turned back around to face the Elf, who had straightened up and was now walking back towards the horses. The feeling of nausea in her stomach had now been matched by one of anger – and that one kept rising.

While staring blindly ahead, Anne was vaguely aware of Legolas saying something about having wasted enough time here, and that they had better be moving on. She was not even sure why she was so furious with him, only that her rage was further complicated by a strong feeling of embarrassment and, for some reason, hurt. Not to mention that she also felt like a sublime idiot. It was probably thanks to the latter that she did not protest in any way, when the Elf, who, by all appearances, had to be completely recovered told her to get back on her horse. She mutely obeyed and followed him, staring holes in his back, while biting her lip and swallowing down her desire to scream.

Frankly, he was acting like they had only stopped here for a minute to buy milk and butter. Anne wanted nothing more than to yell at him, but as long as she was uncertain about what exactly she wanted to deliver, that might not be a good idea. Why did she feel like this? He had irritated and angered her before, and on more than one occasion. However, he had never managed to enrage her like this, and for that, there was simply no logical reason. The painful truth was – she was not angry about the situation he had landed them in. It was not because of her fear and shock while she had been alone in that house, nor even because he had, unintentionally, made her believe that he was dead for those few horrible minutes. Although she probably would have been angrier about that, if she had not felt so relieved.

No, the actual reason for her anger was stupid, silly, absurd, and made absolutely no sense at all. A stupid misconception, a stupid idea, a stupid thought, and the fact that she had even considered it, only proved that she herself was stupid as well.

Why should he kiss her?

Why should she think that he would?

Why should he want to? She was probably the last person he desired to do something like that with, just like he was the last one she would want to kiss. Oh well, perhaps not the very last one; there had to be worse people one could be forced to kiss, like… like an orc, for example. Not that she had ever met an orc face to face, but from what people had told her about them, she felt she could hazard a pretty good guess.

Forcing herself to cease this mental rambling, Anne gnarled her teeth and squeezed her fingers around the reins, which fortunately hung slack, so at least Peg did not become an unsuspecting vent for her wrath.

No matter how she looked at it, she was unbelievably mad at him, and she was mad at herself for being mad in the first place. Had she possibly – with some strange, twisted, completely insane part of her brain – expected, or even wanted him to... go any further? Well, that certain part of her brain had to be a very abnormal and need-driven one! Did it not realise that he was an Elf? A different race! She might as well go and kiss Dûrfang (Peg, she would probably see more as a friend), even if that might be not the best comparison to be found.

After all, the reason why two so very different races of people existed was, presumably, not nature's intention for them to mix! One only needed to take one look at how terribly well the 'intercultural liaison' worked in their case - that should put all doubts aside. This obvious fact, however, did not seem to have reached that very odd part of her brain, which furthermore appeared to be able to blank out certain other facts as well. Delior– no, Legolas —he really told her nothing, even his real name she had had to learn from somebody else— he was cold, haughty, insufferably proud, and somehow capable of making her feel just as foolish and small as he no doubt regarded her himself.

To pair up temporarily with someone like that, owing to certain circumstances, was manageable, even if difficult at times. To submit to them, their rules and behaviour – that wasn't quite so tolerable, but maybe still within the range of possibilities if one had no other choice and was, at the end of the day, depending on that person. To like them or feel something… positive for them other than thankfulness – that would be quite alarming, if not disastrous, and could only lead to self-destruction. And the path was short.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be teetering dangerously close to that path. As much as she was loath to even admit it to herself, Anne had begun to suspect this over the last couple of days, if not weeks. Only today, during that one moment, suspicion had suddenly turned to frightful reality. She had been trying to suppress the memory of how he had fallen to the ground with that horrible noise… Anne had been completely overwhelmed by the helplessness, and cold terror she had felt while kneeling next to his motionless and seemingly lifeless form. That pure and breathtaking fear, not for herself but for him, had utterly shocked her.

The direction her thoughts were taking did little to diminish her anger and frustration in any way, and neither did a short but heavy shower of rain that assailed them in the late afternoon, leaving behind a strange stuffiness that smelled heavily of wet earth and old leaves. It was still light when they reached a small clearing, sheltered by birches and willows, where Legolas announced that they would stop to make camp for the night. Everything was back to normal, it would seem. Making camp so early, though, might suggest that the Elf was still struggling with some after-effects of the poison, but if he was indeed feeling any weakness he did not let it show. That did not concern Anne however, or so she told herself while unsaddling and unpacking dry clothes and her blankets. When shortly afterwards Legolas told her that 'if she wanted to bath she should do it now' without even looking at her, she only felt once again reconfirmed in her opinion of him.

He really was not worth the effort to ask after his health!

She stomped off towards the little pool beyond the trees that was fed by a rivulet, which followed the road down into the valley. The water was – apart from being icy cold compared to the stuffy air – pretty shallow, so bathing was not an option. Therefore, Anne angrily splashed around and tried to wash the herbal stench out of her hair, while screwing up her courage to go and confront the Elf. During the last hours, this plan had taken shape in her head. Considering they would not be together for much longer, it might have been the more prudent course of action to simply let things slide, but she was still too agitated, upset and shaken to be that reasonable. Basically, Anne felt like being mutinous.

Apart from everything else – did he not realise what an unsettling effect his strange behaviour had on her? He probably did, and that just made it worse. One did not treat a woman like that, no matter how little she might look like one! Sniffing at her like a dog, making her think... who knows what, only to act like that was the most normal thing in the world, a mere second later. It was a liberty and she could not even tell him that, because if she did, he would know exactly what she had been thinking. That would be… well, it really did not bear contemplating.

However, there were other, less delicate matters that warranted questions. Even to Anne, it had become clear that they had walked straight into some sort of trap today. While one might argue that it had been partly her fault, since she had urged the Elf to help the girl, it was very frustrating that he – like most of the time – appeared to be in the know of everything, whereas she – as always – was not.

Since Anne doubted that he would readily supply any answers of his own accord, she could only try and demand them from him.

:::

Legolas was glad that he had had the sense to make camp a little earlier in the evening than they usually did. While doing so reluctantly, he had to accept that he needed the rest. Only after he had sent the woman to the pool, he had allowed himself to sit down against a tree, and now he felt the whole impact of the drug that was still in his system. He had not been lying about the toxin having a lesser effect on Elves than it had on humans, nevertheless, he might have underestimated it a little.

It did not matter - they had lost so much time today that a few more hours would make little difference. He could make up for it by starting extra early tomorrow morning, even if that would, no doubt, raise some protest. Then again, regarding the protest, he had a strong feeling that he would not have to wait for the morning. Even in his current state, he could not fail to notice how angry and upset his fellow traveller was. Neither would he have, if he were both deaf and blind. It was foreseeable that she would begin to pester him sooner or later. He could only nurture the hope that it would turn out to be 'later'; right now he had no mind to listen to her laments. He was well aware that he had carried it a little too far today - both with the risk he had taken in the village and his behaviour with her.

He had known within a second that the smell of the herbs did not come from her and - truth be told - he already had suspected as much.

After that…

He had reacted without thinking, it was as simple as that. Legolas was not even quite sure what it was that he had responded to. It might have been an unconscious fear that had made him try to hold on to anything warm and breathing nearby, or some baser need that was dismissed by his nature, but by circumstances had been laid bare for a moment.

Perhaps it had been her tears.

She had gone so rigid in his arm, tense, like a young horse that was unused to touch. He had felt her pulse quickening under his hand, and for a moment he had actually thought she might collapse then and there. It was blatantly obvious that either she had never known a man, or her amnesia had deprived her of any memory she might have had of such an experience. In light of this, he suspected that his behaviour was even more reprehensible, but could not muster the will or energy to spend much thought on it.

He felt no remorse as such, but maybe he needed to question his motives all the same. He was lowering his guard, knowing that their journey together was drawing to a close. Matters were complicated further by the fact that the woman appeared to feel attracted to him to some extent. That in itself was hardly remarkable: she was young, or at least in the lower half of a secondborn's life span - he still found it hard to tell. She was under quite an amount of pressure, he was the only person she was in contact with, and he was male.

At any other time and under different circumstances, she probably would never have acted or felt the way she did now, and neither would he. All this considered, it truly was fortunate that they were about to part ways in a couple of days; the combination of exceptional circumstances that had brought them together - and which kept affecting them both - otherwise might have led him —and perhaps also her— to overstep lines that should not be crossed.

Legolas breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again in an attempt to clear his vision. The toxin was truly persistent, but at least most of his strength appeared to have returned. What worried him a lot more than that, was the question of how it could have even come to this. Was it already common knowledge where he was and who he was with? For this had been no coincidence - of that he was almost certain. He could not remember having met the man who had tried to immobilise him, and yet apparently they had a common acquaintance. The man had not born the sign, which would have identified him as what he was beyond any doubt, but the 'message' and its meaning had been quite clear to Legolas, there was no other proof needed. Apparently, someone was becoming even more impatient than him.

The Elf smiled coldly as his gaze drifted towards the mountain chain in the east and beyond it.

Calm yourself… I shall find you, and then both our desires will come to an end.

He was interrupted in his thoughts, when he heard quickly approaching footsteps. Upon turning his head, he saw the young woman purposefully striding towards him, with dripping hair and a look of alarming determination on her face.

"I was beginning to wonder whether you might have drowned yourself," he said languidly, before she had a chance to open her mouth.

She paused, somehow managing to look like he had slapped her across the face — and effectively causing him to feel like he had.

Hiding his annoyance with himself for the brief stab of guilt, Legolas stood and walked past her. The tinge of cruelty had been only half-intended, but he was in no mood to be nagged at right now.

:::

Anne had half a mind to throw her wet towels and clothes at him, but somehow suspected that such an action might not be the best introduction she could choose. However, when he, without a second look, walked past her and towards the pool, she could not help but angrily shout after him.

"Wait!"

He paused with his back to her, and Anne thought she heard him sigh quietly before he looked back at her over his shoulder.

"What?" His tone was bored, his face a paragon of arrogance and indifference.

Anne felt the anger swell inside of her once more, almost causing her stomach to ache. Relax, she told herself, while taking a shuddering breath. Hysterics never served well as a basis for any kind of constructive discussion.

"Why did you let me walk into that house on my own, if you already knew that the girl was dead?" she asked as calmly as she could. This had only occurred to her now; he had caught her off guard with simply walking off, but she found that this was as good an opening question as anything else.

He regarded her for a moment as if pondering her question. If he was surprised by her sudden demand, he hid it well.

"I had begun to suspect something. I never said I knew," he finally deigned to answer, before turning and continuing to walk down the leaf-covered slope.

Anne, who had no intention of backing down so quickly, followed him the same way back she had just come.

"Even if you only suspected it — you just sent me in there without a second thought!" She decided to forget, for now, that he had also been the one to come to her aid.

"I had decided to play along with their game."

"You decided— their game… there is so much wrong with that sentence, I don't even know where to begin!"

"How about you begin with leaving me alone."

Aah, his voice is calm, but it seems like he is starting to lose his poise, Anne rejoiced inwardly.

She was on the right track!

"If you don't mind," she said, knowing fairly well that he did, "I would rather begin with the game – how can you call it that? At least two people are dead!"

They had reached the pool. Legolas halted and turned around to face her fully, which unfortunately prompted the desire in her to back away. Anne stubbornly ignored the cowardly notion.

"Would you have preferred it if I had let him throw his knife at you?" the Elf asked coldly.

He had a knife?

All right, so his eyes were better than hers in the dark, but that was beside the point.

"I am not saying that," she grumbled. "What I mean is - you could have warned me before you simply decided to— what are you doing?" she interrupted herself, for Legolas had begun to unbuckle his belt.

"I could not have warned you without letting them know that I was suspicious of them," he said smoothly, ignoring her question. He slid off his belt and swiftly proceeded to untie his short-sleeved tunic.

If he thought he could get rid of her that easily, he was very much mistaken, Anne thought resolutely — and only a little bit panicked. This time, she would stand her ground! She was not quite the oversensitive touch me not that he seemed to think she was.

"Then, I was your– your decoy?" she asked indignantly, while trying to look like she was completely impervious to the fact that he was undressing in front of her.

"No, not really. A decoy I would expect to act the way that I want it to."

Anne gasped. "Well, I am sorry if the... the way I act is not to your liking—"

"No need," he cut across her while shrugging out of the tunic, the irony in his tone unmistakable. "I have learned to live with it."

With growing alarm, Anne watched as he discarded tunic and belt, and then began unlacing his undertunic.

"Wait—"

He did not do her the favour, but drew the garment over his head by the hem. Anne quickly averted her eyes –all right, maybe she was an oversensitive touch me not after all– and felt her cheeks grow hot, while concentrating on a snail that was crawling through the grass to her feet.

It's only his chest, for heaven's sake! The snail shell had funny colours.

"That… that man who said he had a message for you… what did he—" she began to stutter, but was interrupted by the Elf.

"Will you stay here?"

Hah!

"Why, you are not shy all of a sudden, are you?" she scoffed triumphantly at the snail.

"No," came the impassive reply. There was the rustling of fabric, followed by a sliding noise and then a soft thud. "But if you are so intent on watching me disrobe, perhaps you should come here and do it properly. Not that I think it a suitable sight for—"

Anne never found out whom the sight might not be suitable for. Before her appalled gaze could fly like the moth to the flame, she had turned around and fled.

As she reached the clearing again, she found that – although still seething – she had somehow lost her incentive. He even managed to corner her, when initially she was the one trying to corner him. Also, he simply blocked everything and was being rude and dismissive on purpose – even more than usual, it seemed. So, he did not want to talk to her. That was by no means something new, and yet…

Had he perhaps thought that she would confront him about the… almost kiss-smelling thing? Yes, that meddlesome thought did not leave her alone, it was intrusive, persistent and presumably planning to haunt her forever. Judging by how wonderful the conversation had gone just now, Anne did not even dare to imagine what his reaction would be if she asked him about that. She sat down on her blankets, suddenly feeling drained.

Legolas did not take long; he returned perhaps ten minutes later, fully dressed again and drying his hair as he walked.

Anne looked up at him sullenly. "You cannot squirm out of a conversation like that."

He threw her a washing cloth that she apparently had forgotten by the pool. Anne did not even bother trying to catch it. Legolas raised his eyebrows slightly at her fractiousness, before beginning to hang several wet sheets over the lower branches of the nearest tree.

"You were the one who left, were you not?"

"Well, I– of course, I left, you were—"

"You really need to learn respecting another person's right to privacy," he said almost pleasantly, as if explaining to a child that the sky was blue.

Anne gasped for air at this audacious distortion of the facts. "I need to learn..." With difficulty, she forced herself back to the situation at hand.

Stay calm, he wants to provoke you… nothing new there.

She scrambled to her feet; somehow, sitting on the ground while he was standing made her feel like she was at a disadvantage.

"That man," she said with a very forced calmness. "What was he talking about, when—"

"This is precisely what I meant. It really is none of your concern."

"It is, as soon as it affects me as well!" Although knowing that she might be overreacting a little, Anne could not help herself. "Today, I could have been injured, too!"

"You are unharmed, alive and whole, as far as I can see," Legolas said dispassionately while hanging up the last of the clothes.

"Well yes, but just as well—"

"You truly are tiresome."

"And you are unfair!"

Legolas slowly let his arms sink, while turning around to look at her. "Unfair?"

"Yes," she snorted. "Unfair!"

There he was, it was out. Perhaps it sounded childish, but then he seemed to consider her to be childish no matter what she did, so she could just as well act the part and let him know what she thought.

A mild frown formed on the Elf's face. "And what am I doing that you feel is so unfair?"

"You know exactly what I mean," said Anne, glaring at him. The knot in her stomach seemed to be tightening again. She felt sick.

He narrowed his eyes in a pensive way. "I am afraid you will have to help me along."

She clenched her shaking fists, returning his gaze for a moment before looking away from his sharp, clear, merciless stare.

"Those things you… some things that you say or do, it just—"

Maybe she should have composed a speech beforehand. Improvised arguing was clearly not one of her strengths.

"Today, when… after you had fallen down, and I thought…" She felt her cheeks grow hot again, remembering the feel of his warm breath on the corner of her mouth. She pressed her fingernails into her palms, so tightly that it hurt. "You cannot… You cannot do things like that. I thought you were going to— I mean…"

Brilliant, she was rambling like a mad person, he probably could not even follow her.

"I am confused," he said calmly.

Well, she could hardly blame him.

"Is it something I did, which makes me unfair in your eyes, or rather something I failed to do?"

If her head had felt hot before, that was nothing compared to how it felt now - she probably resembled an overripe tomato. Anne's eyes flew up at him, horrified.

Yes, she had asked herself the same question, but that was no excuse for him to be so blunt!

"I... you... Of course not!" she spluttered, only then to realise that technically this did not even answer his question. "I didn't think that– I just..."

It began to dawn on Anne that she would probably not be able to compose a reply that could possibly save her face anymore. She realised, with a slightly detached part of her thinking, that the Elf must be worried and on edge himself; presumably, his current behaviour was merely aimed to get her to leave him alone. However, she now felt a humiliating mixture of anger, mortification, helplessness and hurt, not to mention still being shaken from the events of the afternoon. All of this made it very hard to try and see things from his standpoint.

"You… you are–" She unsuccessfully cast around for words that could have expressed her feelings — not really wanting to share them, which complicated the effort quite a bit.

"You are being cruel," she finally muttered, feeling pathetic and lonely, as well as angry at both him and herself. She wanted to go home.

For a moment he just stood there and regarded her mutely, grey eyes hard as slate, his fair face cold and inscrutable. Anne strangely felt like a veil had come down between them, and behind it, he was moving further away with each second. Instead, in the here and now, the Elf took a step towards her, making her feel like something sinister was closing in on her.

"Cruel," he repeated slowly while closing the gap between them. Then he reached out for her with one hand.

Anne flinched, but all he did was to tug a small leaf from her still wet hair. His fingers brushed her neck where it meets the shoulder, and although the touch was so short and light that she easily could have imagined it, she felt a faint tremble run through her, causing her to curse her own body.

"How strange," he quietly observed. His gaze was dark and hard. "You do not seem to be suffering all that much."

Afterwards, Anne could not have said whether it had been his tone or the innuendo in his words, or whether it just had been the final straw. Caught between him, her absurdly wounded feelings and what was left of her pride, as well as helpless anger, frustration and a strange, muddled fear she didn't even understand — something snapped inside of her. Following the first impulse that came to her, she raised her hand, intending to slap him across the face with all her might.

He caught her wrist after the glorious split of a second during which she actually thought that she had, for once, taken him by surprise. She did not think twice, but send her second hand after the first – it was, after all, not for nothing that she had got two of them. Legolas stopped it just as easily as the first time. At this point, Anne might have given up and admitted defeat — if the Elf had not made a soft, huffing sound through his nose, almost like a soft, mocking laugh, while at the same time twisting his lips sardonically.

Anne lost her head in this moment, and, without thinking or hesitating, tried to kick him. Her onslaught was nipped in the bud as she suddenly found herself turned around so fast her head was spinning, her arms now crossed in a very uncomfortable position in front of her, while her wrists were still in Legolas' grip, and her back pressed against him.

Despite her shock, Anne instinctively tried to free herself with a jerk. The only result was a feeling as if both her shoulders had been dislocated.

Legolas bent his head and his long, damp hair fell across her face like a dark curtain, obscuring her view and causing a suffocating sensation in her chest. When, panicking, Anne inhaled on a gasp, she caught the faint, minty scent from his breath.

"If necessary," he said velvety, "I am capable of becoming very unfair indeed."

III III III

:::

AN: Good afternoon to all of you on this rather grey and rainy Wednesday :) Before I start rambling about this and that - first things first: Thank you SO much for the reviews to the last chapter!

I only returned yesterday after all (therefore the delay, but in exchange, this chapter is extra-long again ;-)) – as suspected, we really did have no internet - and now I am over the moon with all the wonderful feedback.

I know Legolas was mean today – but one has to forgive him, he's preoccupied ;) And yeah, Anne is pretty out of sorts and freaking out a little, (I thought so myself while rereading) but there are a lot of things weighing in on her at the same time.

On a random note - I kind of miss Delior Q_Q I knew the day would come for the name to change, and it won't disappear for good, but still.. /sniff/ got so used to it ;) I also keep writing Delior instead of Legolas, so if there are still some Deliors left in this chapter - my apologies.

Next time, there actually will be some explaining (finally), and we'll meet a couple of people.

And as always: thank you all for reading, especially if you made it until here :-)