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Chapter Quote: "The elf killed the horse Estel. Why did the elf kill him?"

Chapter Eight

Changes

After that day I was never far from Lightfoot's side. The little colt rapidly developed strength, and his coat began to shine. He started walking only days after I began to see him again. And then that was the beginning of it all. I could speak to Lightfoot as clearly as if I was speaking to Estel...only Estel's thoughts were much clearer. I supposed it was because we were both human. Whenever I tried to talk to Lightfoot, I would always first get a jumble of words, and sometimes a sharp pain in a my head before his halting sentences finally reached me. But I didn't care.

I knew, ever more as the days passed, that I loved Lightfoot dearly. And that, somehow, it was almost as if I have always known him. That we were always to be together. He followed me around the courtyards of Imladris, (with the most seriousness of promises not to eat the flowers in the gardens)

Estel, I do not think fully understood my attachment to Lightfoot, but he did not press me. And he did not ask me why I understood Lightfoot so well. For that, I did not even know myself. But soon, very soon, I felt something was going to happen between Estel and I, something that I would never be able to change.

Two Months Later

Estel walked swiftly down the corridor towards the gates. Upon his face he bore a smile which told of unknown pleasures that the young human had recently experienced.

Estel?

He stopped mid-stride, smiling again as he heard the unmistakable voice in his head. Soft, and shy, yet firm as she called his name.

Yes Dineniel? He asked, waiting for her to reply. He could hear the girl from almost anywhere in the valley. And he had not left for a number of days. Elladan and Elrohir were off hunting, had been for about a week. Spring was passing, and now the hints of Summer were pressed upon the valley of Imladris.

Estel...I need to ask you something.

Dineniel's voice was strangely quiet...as if she was afraid of something...and yet trying to face it bravely at the same time. The smile vanished from the young man's face.

Are you all right Dineniel? He asked concernedly. There was no answer for a moment.

Yes, I'm fine. Just...please come.

It was strange...he never had to ask where she was. When she spoke to him...it was like she sent an image as well. A small picture of the place where she was. She was standing in one of the long painted corridors. In the eastern wing of the building. Turning sharply, he sprinted down the passage ways, thinking on where she looked like she had been. And after a few minutes, he found her.

Dineniel's long, brown hair was streaming down her small shoulders. The locks now held a heathy shine, and the memory of the half-starved and beaten girl was almost impossible to compare to her now. Her dark eyes were studying a portrait on the wall...not a portrait...a mural. She was clothed in a flowing sky blue dress, one that tightened around her chest and arms to give her move freedom of movement...the style of dress that was popular among the young elven maidens. But there had not been many young elven maidens in Imladris in a long, long time. Her pale hands were clasped behind her back and she did not need to look at Estel to know that he was here.

"What is wrong?" He asked, standing next to the girl and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She slowly moved her hand to the mural, one long finger pointing.

What happened?

He looked up, the mural was one of battle. A type not often seen in the peaceful halls of Lord Elrond. There were two beings locked in battle, swords clasped in long, muscular arms. The faces were dark...and angry.

"There was a battle." He said slowly. "I must say, I have never seen this one before." He admitted to the girl unashamedly. Growing up in the magnificent halls meant that he often did not stop to gaze at the many murals that decorated the many corridors. And this one, had been one that he had never really comprehended.

The elf is...is angry. Why is he angry?

"I don't know Dineniel, why does it bother you so?"

The horse...the horse opposite the elf...he is dying.

Estel looked up at the picture in surprise. It was true, the horse had a wound on its neck, one that was bleeding severely. "Horses often die in battle Dineniel." He said in confusion, not understanding her question.

It looks like...like Lightfoot.

Estel shook his head, "What is wrong Dineniel, is this why you called me here?"

The girl looked at him with wide, tear filled eyes. The elf killed the horse Estel. Why did the elf kill him?

"Dineniel..."

I do not understand...elves love horses...I love the horses. Why did he kill the horse?

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "The horse was the enemy...elves do not kill for no reason at all."

But they killed him. They killed that one. There was a sudden sharp pain in the young man's head and he grimaced, frowned, and brought one hand up to message his temple. Only the pain did not go away, it intensified. Estel reeled back, crying out and banging hard against the stone wall. But the pain did not go away.

They killed them...killed them all. He heard darkly.

But his vision was blurring, tears welling in his eyes. "Dineniel?" He cried out weakly, but the girl was not looking at him. And suddenly...he could not hear nor feel anything anymore.

"War destroys us my child." The tall man said softly. The gold plate on his chest shone in the sunlight. I was looking at him in awe, and then at the long, curved sword he had laid in my hands. "You must learn how to use this to stop those who bring war upon us when the time comes."

"But how will I know?" I protested, looking up at him. "How will I know when they are my friends?"

The tall man sighed. "Sometimes you never know, you never discover your need until it is too great."

"But-"

"There is no exceptions. We discover who would destroy us, and then they are destroyed before they can destroy us. Do you understand?"

I bowed my head in shame. "Yes sir."

The tall man nodded, his anger ebbing away like a passing tide. "Good, then we shall begin."

He turned to demonstrate something. "Sir?"

The tall man looked back at me expectantly.

"If you don't know...then how can you protect yourself?"

The man's eyes darkened. "You trust your own kind, and no one more."

"No one?" I asked in surprise.

The man looked at me gravely.

"No one."

He heard crying, short, soft sobs. Coming from somewhere nearby. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking into the stern face of Elrond. The elven lord's face melted with relief.

"He's awake." He announced to someone behind him. The sobs stopped and he blinked as he heard footsteps scrape the floor.

Dineniel appeared, her cheeks red and swollen from unexplained tears. She held a look of terror and despair that he had never seen before.

"What happened?" Estel asked groggily.

"We're not sure." Elrond replied, turning briefly to Dineniel who only looked away from his inquiring gaze. "We found you, your head was bleeding and you were unconscious."

Estel frowned, he realized that he was in a bed, and slowly sat up. Immediately his head began to throb and he winced, pressing a hand to his forehead, which was bandaged. Slowly the memories began to drift back, finding Dineniel in the corridor, the anger written on her face, the pain in his head, her harsh words...the mural. He frowned,

"What is it Estel?" Asked Elrond in concern, taking the frown as a grimace of pain.

"The mural...along the south corridor in the eastern wing...what is it from?"

Elrond's brows met in thought, he studied the face of the young man, and his gaze flickered briefly to Dineniel at his side. "I am not sure, I recall no unusual mural...I shall have to see it before I can answer that question."

Estel nodded in understand. From Elrond's side Dineniel let out another sob and a silent cry.

Oh Estel, forgive me! I did not understand...I didn't mean to...I don't know what happened.

There is nothing to forgive. Estel thought gently. There was no way Dineniel could have done this, she would never hurt him.

She let out another cry, as if reading his thoughts. But I did Estel! I did. I did not know what I was doing until I saw you...you were bleeding. I have seen blood too many times now... She froze, her mind blank and her answer cut short.

"Dineniel?" He called, allowed this time. But her eyes held a vacant expression and she would say nothing more.

She turned slowly to look up at Elrond, her eyes wide with terror. -I should go.- She signed to him. The elven lord could think of nothing else but to nod. Dineniel fled from the room, tears streaming from her expressionless eyes. Estel gazed up at his father, the question was in his father's eyes. The question he knew he would have to answer.

"How long have you been able to talk to each other like that?" The elven lord asked quietly.

Estel blinked in surprise, he knew his father would someday find out. But not now, not like this. "Not long." He said quietly. "When we named Lightfoot-"

Elrond nodded and Estel did not bother to finish the sentence. The frown had not left the elven lord's face. "I think it is time I saw this mural. For now, get some rest. Your injury is not serious, but it is still a nasty blow to the head. Try to sleep."

Estel nodded in dull obedience as Elrond left the room. But as the young human closed his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder why the mural had made Dineniel so angry...

...and why she had been able to hurt him.

Lightfoot grew tall as winter approached, the leaves withered and the trees became bare. For even in lovely Imladris, the leaves must die. The pass and fade with every year, it was the same way with humans. It was the same way. We grew and we faded. We lived and we died.

But I, I was different.

I stood sullenly at Lightfoot's door. Not even a year had passed since my arrival in Imladris, and I was ruining everything. Estel had trusted me, and taught me, and shown me the peace of Imladris. He had kept me alive with hope, he had given me family. And I had hurt him. I hurt him. I could see the image of his writhing body now. And I had felt satisfaction...even pleasure, before I could understand what I had done, I saw his blood. And I saw his pain.

Lightfoot nuzzled my back. Ddddineniel. He called soothingly. Lightfoot, though he could speak much better, often found that just whispering my name was the greatest relief that he could give me.

I stroked his golden neck and I shuddered as I thought of the mural in the corridor. Something had changed with me.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

A/N: Well, as you all can see, my plot is just really starting to begin. And as many of my older reviewers know, I don't often have lots of fluff in my fics. So, I am going to gently start easing my way into my bigger plot. And we will be seeing some new aspects of Dineniel's mysterious past. : Thanks to everyone for all the reviews! And thanks to my beta, Kiann. :)

TO BE CONTINUED...