Chapter One- A Changing Fortune

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The Elf stirred and forced himself to stand. He knew pain, and nothing else. He always hurt. He walked stiffly over to the embers of a fire and brought it back to life. The Men were still sleeping, a fact for which the Elf was extremely grateful. He was often beaten, and at night...he didn't even want to think about what the Men did to him at night.

The Elf knelt and began to cook a breakfast for the Men. He cast his eyes over them and was relieved to find that they were still sleeping. Taking advantage of the situation, he stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and chewed it hurriedly.

One of the Men stirred and sat up. The Elf swallowed and looked down as the Man approached; luckily the Man did not see him eating. "Whore! What's cooking?"

The Elf whimpered at the Man's harsh tone and replied fearfully. "Sausages, bacon, and eggs, master." The Man slapped the Elf's rear and walked away, to wake the other Men.

The other Men sat around the fire and waited for their breakfast to be given to them. "Do you think we should sell im, Cuilhor?" a Man asked their leader. "He's becoming a bit of a bother. Maybe we should swap im."

Cuilhor glanced at the Elf. True, he had become slower but he did not know where else would they find another so beautiful. After a moment's thought he replied. "Sell im. I'll take him to Gondor meself. I'll take a couple of Men with me, just to make sure he won't escape." He gave a short, cruel laugh as the Elf began handing out tin plates loaded with food. As he took his, Cuilhor placed his hand inside the Elf's leggings.

The Elf shuddered and nearly took a step back, but checked himself just in time. Cuilhor leered up at him and stopped. "Go have a wash! You're filthy! We'll never get any gold for you like this!"

The Elf half-eagerly ran to do as the man had bid. He hated to be so filthy, but, at the same time, he was afraid of ending up in a worse situation than the one he was currently in.

*******

Aragorn walked through the streets of Minas Tirith. Gandalf was expected to arrive soon; they were forever searching for the son of Thranduil, Prince Legolas. Their only hope for peace was finding him still alive.

Aragorn watched as a group of maids crossed his path. He heard them whispering. "If only the son of Arathorn would return! Then we would proper order. And then he-we-do-not-name will be destroyed!" Aragorn turned away grieved by their words. He was useless. Isildur had been weak. He was weak.

The Men dragged along the Elf. Cuilhor glanced back. "Careful!" He barked. "Don't bruise him! We want a lot of gold for him!" The Elf almost sighed in relief. Almost. He hated the Men with all his heart. He mistrusted them.

*******

Gandalf had heard rumors from the Eagles that a blond Elf was a few leagues north of Gondor, in the company of Men. Cruel Men. He hoped it was Legolas, yet at the same time he didn't even want to think about what would happen if it was the missing Prince. He knew exactly how cruel the Men were. They forced themselves on their captives.

*******

The Elf was dragged inside the walls of Minas Tirith. Cuilhor gave his men a warning glare before glancing at the tall buildings. He knew where one whorehouse was, it was hidden in the back rooms of a disreputable tavern, and started leading them to it. The Elf began frantically looking for an escape route. He caught site of an old man, clothed in grey, leaning heavily on a staff, looking at him. The Man seemed familiar to the Elf, as if his appearance stirred some long forgotten memory.

The Elf kicked at the Man who had a bruising grip on his arm. It seemed to be his only chance at escape. The old man took a step forward. The Elf tore himself free and ran as fast as he could, trying to loose his captors in the crowds.

"GET IM!" Cuilhor's voice echoed through the streets, catching the attention of many bystanders. The crowds surrounding the Men and Elf grew thicker. As the cruel Men set off, the old Man sighed, half in relief, half in fear. If the Men caught up with the Elf, there would be Mordor to pay.

*******

The Elf ran down the streets, dodging the humans that tried to grab him. He ran past a dark alley, but a hand reached out and grabbed him, dragging him into the shadows.

*******

Gandalf followed the Men at a more sedate pace, trying to look as if he wasn't following them. If the blond boy was an Elf, he would need assistance, regardless of whether or not the he turned out to be Legolas.

He saw the Elf being pulled into a dark alley almost too quickly for Mortal eyes to see. The old Man glanced at the Elf's pursuers, and, to his relief, saw that they had not noticed the Elf's sudden change in course. One obstacle had been overcome, but he could only hope that the motives of whoever had grabbed the Elf were pure. He had to make sure that the cruel Men did not enslave another being to their will.

*******

The Elf was just about to cry out when another hand slapped over his mouth. He began shivering in fear. The dark figure in front of him loosened his grip in concern. "I'm not going to hurt you." The figure's voice was gentle, but the Elf never ceased his shivering. "I'm going to remove my hand, if you promise not to make a noise. The Men are still hunting for you."

The Elf nodded and the hand on his mouth went down to the Elf's shoulder. "Who...who are...you?" The Elf's voice was somewhat shaky, and he stumbled for words as well, for he still hadn't stopped shivering.

The figure gave a gentle smile. "I'm Aragorn. A Man." At Aragorn's words, the Elf dropped his head, looking fixedly at the ground. "If you promise not to run, I'll let you go."

The Elf did not dare glance up at the Man, but he spoke tentatively nonetheless. "Pr...prom...promise..."

Aragorn's hands dropped to his side. "What's your name?" He had to know more about this thin Elf.

But the Elf shook his head. "Do...not..." the Elf paused for a word. "Ha...Have...one."

Aragorn gave a smile, trying to reassure the Elf. He was confused. What was he to call this strange creature? "Then what are you called?"

The Elf glanced up at the Man, pleased that he had answer for his rescuer's question. "Whore."

Aragorn gasped in horror and glanced at the Elf in surprise. "That is not...right." He was shocked that anyone could do that to such a beautiful creature.

Legolas' head drooped again, afraid of being beaten or worse. He was always hurt when things weren't right. "Please! Do not...hurt..."

Aragorn suddenly realized his mistake and placed a hand on the Elf's arm. "I'm sorry." The Elf flinched at the contact. The hand dropped. "Let me think of a name for you." The Ranger thought for a moment. "Lasgalen, meaning greenleaf."

The Elf looked up at Man in surprise, forgetting his fear for the first time, and gave a small, sad smile. "Las...Lasgalen..." The Elf repeated uncertainly. "Why name?"

Aragorn gave an encouraging smile. "Because everything has a name, friend."

Lasgalen's heart leapt, he had a friend! For the first time in his life, he was perhaps loved. But he had to make sure. "You...friend?" A nod was his answer. He gave another sad smile.

Lasgalen was surprised when a couple of strong arms embraced him. "Yes, friend. No matter what."

But the arms were a new reason for fear. Lasgalen began to panic, tears sprung to his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Aragorn's arms dropped when he realized he was the cause of Lasgalen's fear. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean too. I sought only to comfort. Please forgive me."

Lasgalen thought his ears were deceiving him. Someone was asking for his forgiveness? He sniffed. "My...fault..."

Aragorn shook his head. The Elf hadn't done anything wrong. "'Tis my fault."

Footsteps stopped their conversation. Aragorn tore off his cloak and placed it on Lasgalen, hiding his profile from prying eyes.

After a moment of tense silence, Gandalf walked into the alley. "Aragorn! Is that the Elf?" The Maia was relieved when Aragorn nodded. "Thank the Valar!"

Aragorn removed the cloak and tried to explain to Lasgalen. "This is Gandalf, he is a friend. He won't hurt you."

Lasgalen looked up at Aragorn with watering eyes. "Everyone...hurt me."

Aragorn shook his head. "No, they won't. I won't hurt you, Gandalf won't. I know lots of beings that would not hurt you. And if they did they would meet the sharp end of my sword."

Gandalf gave the Elf a gentle smile and turned to Aragorn. "Come, we must get out of Minas Tirith." He turned back to Lasgalen. "And you would be...?"

Aragorn jumped in, seeing that Lasgalen wasn't going to answer, the Elf was too scared for that. "He said that he doesn't have a name. I gave him the name Lasgalen'."

Gandalf smiled again. "Lasgalen, we need you to come with us. The Men are still searching for you, but we will protect you. Rivendell is an Elven refuge. It is one of only three left, Lothlòrien and the Grey Havens are the other ones."

Lasgalen glanced at Aragorn for reassurance. The Ranger nodded. Lasgalen forced himself to relax; these Men wouldn't hurt him.

Gandalf exchanged a look with Aragorn. "We will pass though Lothlòrien, Lasgalen. You will see Elves there, but they are unlike the Rivendell Elves. They live for the morning, while Rivendell Elves live for the evening."

Lasgalen nodded, and Gandalf noticed for the first time how pitiful the Elf looked. His clothes were plain, rough, dirty and torn. He carried no pack, his feet were bare, and his hair was tangled. "As much as I would like to give you more clothes and shoes, we cannot stay in Minas Tirith. We will be stopping at a small village a few days west of here."

Then, without another word, they set off.