ONE:

Bree was as exciting as Bilbo Baggins expected, riding in through the gates of the town next to Barius Chubb, with the second wagon behind them. It was the first such mission Bilbo had gone on since the deaths of his parents, two years earlier and he was secretly curious and excited at his small adventure. The blood of respectable Bagginses as well as adventurous Tooks flowed in his veins and sometimes, his mother's heritage reared its head.

It had helped that his Uncle Isengrim Took, the Thain of the Shire, had asked him. The loss of the former Thain, Gerontius, had hit the Shire hard after his long and wise tenure of the post and the death of Bilbo's parents had possibly hastened his end but he had clung on until Bilbo's independence as he reached his majority was legally assured. And now, at the ripe old age of thirty-four, despite his lingering grief and reticence, he had been persuaded to help represent the Thain on this trading mission to Bree, along with his cousins Adalgrim and Flambard Took. His cousins knew he was smart and patient, yet sassy enough to stand up for himself when required. And he looked nothing but the absolute perfect gentle hobbit.

"First time?" Barius murmured but Bilbo shook his head.

"My mother brought me when I was...fifteen, sixteen?" he murmured. "I remember feeling very small and shocked by the jostling in the market. We stayed in the Prancing Pony but we ate in our room...neither of us felt completely comfortable on the main part of the Inn." The other hobbit nodded.

"There are a lot of Big Folk here and they get on well with the Bree hobbits...though I guess they are used to the interactions," he commented. "They're...well, they're not quite as respectable and reserved as we Shirefolk." Bilbo inspected him narrowly, automatically fiddling with the brass buttons on his elegant golden brocade waistcoat.

"Well, I am a Baggins of Bag End and I am certainly not dropping my standards of manners and hospitality, even if it makes us appear like rather backwards country cousins!" he announced, his voice sharpening. Barius chuckled and clouted his shoulder.

"Nor should you," he commented with a broad grin. "And I know you'll need to search the market for presents to take back-as well as the trade we have been sent with." He gestured over his shoulder to the laden down wagon. "If you want to hop down, I'll make the delivery with Ade and Flam then we'll meet at the Prancing Post for dinner." Bilbo grabbed his pack and nodded as they pulled to a halt.

"I need to see the blacksmith," he commented. "Jago Boffin showed me a very fine knife he had purchased here and I think one similar would make a good gift to Isengrim as a thanks for sending me on this journey." Barius chuckled as he jumped down.

"I wouldn't buy him a thank-you gift until you're sure that he deserves it!" he commented as Bilbo waved and walked off in the direction of the market. Adopting a smile, Bilbo walked forward...for about six steps before he was barrelled into by a man. He looked down, muttered and walked on, muttering. The hobbit stared, shocked by the rudeness but decided against making any comment. However, he paid much closer attention to the other customers and had to dodge a few times to avoid being knocked aside. It seemed the market in Bree was very much set up with Men in mind...until he rounded a corner and found the Hobbit stalls. He sighed with relief.

"Good afternoon," he said, greeting the vendor at the pie stall. "Those look like fine wares!" The dark-haired hobbit facing him grinned and puffed up in pride.

"Only the finest in fruit pies-peach and raspberry, apple and blackberry and pear and cinnamon, all freshly baked. What can I tempt you with?" Bilbo's eyes widened, his sensitive nose twitching at the aromas and he sighed.

"One of each," he said honestly. "My friends and I will be here until tomorrow or maybe the day after and if they approve, I shall certainly be purchasing more!" He winked at the Hobbit, who was more than willing to share his personal sweet pastry tips, allowing Bilbo to swap a few of his own. Parting amiably, the hobbit tucked his purchases away and moved on, finding ribbons and small trinkets for his young cousins before turning towards the end of the market, hearing the clangs of metal being struck. He paused at the nearest stall.

"Is the blacksmith that way?" he asked to confirm his suspicions and the elderly hobbit on the cloth stall nodded, his face pulled into an expression of distaste.

"Aye-but I'd watch him," he commented. "He came here a year ago and he's a shady sort. Watch his prices and always haggle hard." He leaned closer. "He has a dwarf to do his work. Looks dangerous to me." Bilbo frowned, inclining his head.

"That's...unusual," he managed, trying to process the information. "But that is the only blacksmith in Bree?" The hobbit nodded.

"Oh, the quality of work is good-well, dwarfish make is acknowledged to be quality-but many of us don't like going there..." he murmured. "Something not right with what's going on there..." Bilbo nodded.

"I'll be careful," he promised and headed up towards the building at the far end of the narrow street. He could feel the heat from a few yards away, wondering how anyone could be stuck sweltering in this place, day after day. But he walked forward with a determined expression on his face and instantly saw the solid shape at the anvil, strong arms hammering away at a red-hot piece of metal. A good few inches taller than he was, Bilbo immediately realised this was a dwarf. He was focussed on his task, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and two thick iron bands tight around his wrists. He was grubby and sweaty, his long jet mane with a few grey streaks matted and grubby. A ragged tunic covered his body and leather trous that had seen better days sheathed sturdy legs. Heavy boots covered his feet.

"Can I help you?" The dwarf had spoken without lifting his head, his voice deep and bitter. Bilbo started, for he had been staring and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. The dwarf turned his head and the hobbit just had time to register striking blue eyes and a short jet beard before he pulled himself together.

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he introduced himself. The dwarf shrugged.

"Thorin," he growled. "Halford the smith is at the Inn." Forcing himself to smile, Bilbo met the unwavering cerulean gaze.

"I am interested in commissioning a blade, a belt knife," he began. "And I was wondering..." The dwarf sighed and laid his hammer aside, shoving the metal back into the fire.

"I am not permitted to accept commissions, only take on work from the standard list of tasks," he said gruffly, ducking his head. "Anything off the list must be negotiated with the smith." The way he bit the words was as much of an insult to the man's status as you could imagine. Bilbo cleared his throat.

"But he's not, is he?" he asked. "You're clearly the smith here. So at least, could you give me an idea how long it would take?" Thorin looked at him and clearly warred within himself.

"Not long," he admitted.

"I would like it decorated-as a present for a friend, a thank you..." Bilbo added, his eyes lighting.

"A handsome gift," Thorin commented bitterly. The hobbit smiled.

"He has trusted me with a task and it only seems right to thank him for his trust," he explained. Thorin stiffened, memories rising in an unwelcome surge. He looked away.

"Indeed," he said neutrally, his brows still dipped in a frown. Bilbo thought he would be handsome if he scowled less, maybe a little thin for a hobbit's taste but those eyes... He shook himself.

"Are you busy?" he asked and Thorin's face closed.

"Busy enough," he said in a low voice. "Don't accept Halford's first or second offer-he will try to cheat you. Be prepared to walk away. The true price...well, it should be a third and a half lower than what you are first offered." Bilbo smiled.

"Thank you," he murmured as the dwarf pulled the metal out using the heavy tongs and lifted his hammer.

"You're welcome," he said shortly and returned to his work.

Turning away, Bilbo was torn between the impression that the dwarf was just really unfriendly and the fact there almost certainly was something funny going on. The other smiths he knew in the Shire were all diligent and skilled, fiercely protective of their business and omnipresent. The fact this 'Halford' seemed to do none of the work but overcharged and spent his time in the public house didn't speak well for what was going on. He had half a mind to ask around and see what was really happening. Then he pulled himself up, sternly walking ahead. He was here on the Thain's business and he was certain, after a year in Bree, that any illegality would have been sorted out. He nodded. It was time to meet his friends-and commission a blade.

He found Halford in the Prancing Pony, beating the rest of the party to the actual parlour though he found the others were freshening up. The man was sloppy and unwashed, his eyes slightly hazed by alcohol and a plate of food almost finished in front of him. Bilbo introduced himself and explained why he was here. He didn't mention that he had spoken with the dwarf, instead offering that he had asked around the market and the man sat up straighter, belched and then focussed on the polite Hobbit. The bargaining was hard and Bilbo was glad he had the advice he had received. Eventually they agreed on a price that Bilbo considered wasn't completely horrendous and they shook on it, advising the hobbit to come to the forge in the morning when his order would be made. Nodding politely, he made to rise then paused.

"I hear your wares are dwarven made," he commented with a smile. Halford spat on the floor, his yellow teeth bared in an unpleasant leer.

"It's a selling point," he sneered. "But he's a lazy oaf, barely human and needs constant supervision." There was an ugly edge to his words and he drained his ale as Bilbo bit back his instinctive retort-then what are you doing here mid-afternoon?. Instead, he nodded politely. The dwarf was working hard when Bilbo had approached-and he knew his back had been to the door and hobbits trod lightly. There clearly wasn't a good relationship between the two and it was clear that Thorin wasn't treated well by the smith. The Tookish part of Bilbo really wanted to discover why a dwarf who was clearly skilled, was working with such an unpleasant master while the Baggins half reminded him that it was none of his business and he was leaving in a couple of days in any case.

"Bilbo!" Adalgrim's voice was a welcome rescue and he nodded to the smith, shook his head again and walked to join his friends for a relaxing evening of food and drink.

-o0o-

The next morning, after a quick first and more substantial second breakfast, Bilbo headed out to the blacksmith's once more, his expression determined and stride confident. The shutters were open and he could see shapes moving within so he paused, then slowly approached, an amiable smile on his face. Thorin saw him first and his eyes widened in recognition before he nodded the slightest greeting.

"Ah-Master Baggins!" Halford bellowed from the back, shoving past and leaning forward with his yellow grin. Bilbo noted the man hadn't changed from the previous day, the stains from his dinner still obvious as greasy smears on the grubby fabric. The forge was lit but the heat wasn't so oppressive in the early morning cool. "You're prompt. I like that! So it was a blade, wasn't it?"

"A decorated belt knife," Bilbo corrected him.

"And the price-I think we agreed on sixty..."

"It was forty," Bilbo reminded him, his eyes hardening though his voice remained very pleasant. Halford feigned surprise.

"Did we? Oh, I may have misunderstood..."

"We shook on it," Bilbo told him. "Twice. Though if you wish to renege, I am sure that my trading partners here will be immensely glad to hear that your word is worthless. They won't want to risk having deals broken on a whim and I'm certain your suppliers..." Halford's eyes widened, shocked at the response of the soft-spoken, nicely plump hobbit whose hazel eyes were twinkling with determination.

"No, no...I meant no offence," Halford said, his teeth gritted, "Of course I recall the deal. It was fairly negotiated, even though I was a little merry. Good tactics, little sir-good tactics indeed!" Bilbo found his teeth gritting at the patronising words. "Now if you'll just hand over the money, we can start..." Thorin glanced up and gave the slightest shake of his head before turning back to whatever he was doing. Bilbo's smile was forced.

"That was not the agreement-and I am certainly not about to hand over any money without seeing the finished item," he said shortly. "It is so much harder to get any corrections or issues amended once the money is already in the pocket of the maker." The steel in his voice left nothing to be discussed. Halford's pretence at pleasantry dropped away.

"As you wish,' he growled. "Give your order to the dwarf-I'll be out back." And he stalked out. Bilbo exhaled and offered a small sigh.

"Thank you, Master Thorin," he said quietly. "I am very grateful." The dwarf looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Explain what you wish, Master Hobbit, and I will endeavour to do justice to your gift," he said in a clear voice. The intensity in his blue eyes was blinding and Bilbo felt himself blush. But he managed to get the details out and the dwarf didn't say a word, mentally listing the requirements and the suggestions for decoration. Then he nodded. "It will be done by teatime, Master Hobbit." Bilbo smiled.

"Thank you, Master Thorin and see you later," he managed brightly, turning away before he made more of a fool of himself. Honestly! He was acting like a guileless tween, blushing at a pair of eyes! And he had a meeting with the Council of Bree with the others in half an hour-hardly enough time to stop himself being flustered-to discuss the trading relationship for the next season. Shaking his head, he walked off, unaware of the eyes of the dwarven smith following him until he vanished.

-o0o-

It had been a longer meeting than anticipated and Bilbo found his head spinning. The food trading had been fairly straightforward but it was the trade Shirewards that was more difficult. The usual-cloth, exotic foods, wooden goods, coal and wood-were all easy but there was still a shortfall. More goods were posited and Bilbo had mentioned ironworks-but the Council had swiftly dismissed the idea.

"That smith, Halford, is a devious and untrustworthy fellow," the Lead Councillor-a man named Gerard-explained. "We ordered new swords for the door guards and he was very difficult about the price, demanding payment in advance. A number of the goods were shoddy-though half were of good quality and well made. He blamed his assistant, the dwarf, for the substandard wares but refused to replace them without further monies. Interestingly, no one was seen working but the dwarf until the new and acceptable swords were handed over. We will not use him again." Bilbo sighed.

"He tried the same tricks on me," he said, "but I won't pay until I see what I am paying for. And if we traded, you would be the purchaser, would you not?" Gerard nodded. Bilbo sighed.

"Why does Thorin work for him?" he asked directly. "He is a far superior smith and he could easily set up on his own-with far more respect." There was a pause and the Councillors all shared a glance before looking back at the Hobbit.

"Not our place to say," he admitted. "You would have to ask him."

"He's tighter lipped than a clam at high tide," Bilbo murmured. "I don't know if he would even deign to answer."

"Then it's not your business," Adalgrim reminded him and he sighed. "Okay...back to business..."

It was dusk and he was walking back to the Forge at speed, feeling guilty that he was later than planned. The hatch was still open and he panted up, offering an apologetic smile.

"I am so sorry," he said by way of greeting. "And thank you so much for waiting for me." Thorin looked up tiredly, eyes hooded by weariness.

"I was certain you would come," he said gruffly and presented a magnificent dagger to Bilbo. Eyes widening, the hobbit reverently lifted the weapon, feeling the excellent balance, the skilful working and the delicate etching on the blade and handle. Then he smiled.

"This is wonderful," he said. "Absolutely superb work. Thank you so much, Master Thorin!" The dwarf ducked his head in acknowledgement of the thanks which Bilbo acutely got the impression were a rare pleasure.

"You are welcome," he said and a slight smile twitched the corners of his mouth. Bilbo smiled and then gasped, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out a purse containing the agreed price. He handed it over with a smile. "I'm sorry-how rude of me. Here's the agreed price." And then he sighed. "May I ask you a question?" Thorin stiffened and then nodded.

"I may not be able to answer it," he said neutrally though he still sounded tired. Bilbo listened and was certain he could hear no sign of Halford.

"Why do you work for him?" he asked. Thorin swung his head round to inspect him, an incredulous look on his face. "I mean, he obviously treats you badly and gives you no credit. He's a swindler and a drunk. And he's not a very good smith, is he?" Thorin shook his head.

"I have no choice," he murmured, barely audible though his hands fisted until his knuckles grew white. The heavy iron bands around his wrists moved and the hobbit could see some marks beneath.

"Do you need help?" Bilbo asked suddenly, leaning forward. The dwarf snapped round.

"And what help could a halfling offer?' he snapped, his anger sudden and harsh. But Bilbo sensed there was more there-shame, embarrassment and misery-all masked by the attack.

"I would have you know, Master Dwarf, that I am half of nothing! I am a hobbit-and though you may have inches on me in height, I can see you do not have them in girth. Your clothes are ragged, you clearly don't get enough chances to wash and rest and maybe eat and you seem very isolated and alone. What happened that you are in such a predicament?" He sighed at the defensive look in the other male's face. "If you need help, I am here until tomorrow lunchtime, staying at the Prancing Pony." He gripped the fine blade. "I really do want to help because no one should feel so trapped and unhappy when there is an offer of help."

Then he turned and made to walk away. But as he was retreating, he heard footsteps and darted sideways, into the shadows as Halford stumbled into the back of the Forge.

"Did he come?" the man asked and there was a grunt. "Late. Stubby little ponce. You got the money?" There was another grunt and the sounds of coins. There was a pause and then suddenly the sounds of a heavy blow. "IDIOT!" Halford raged. "How many times have I told you to leave something that needs repairing?"

"I am a Master Smith: I won't hand over substandard or shoddy work," Thorin reminded him in a low voice. There was a second blow, the sound of something slamming into flesh causing the hidden listener to wince. There was a low grunt that he was sure was Thorin.

"And do I need to remind you that I own you?" Halford hissed. "The bands on your wrists and the brands on your flesh show you are property-and mine. There isn't anywhere you can run where you won't be hunted and returned. And you can hardly go back to your people when you handed yourself over to spare them, can you?"

There was a silence, though Thorin's breaths were audible.

"Say it!" Halford hissed.

"No...Master..." the dwarf ground out.

"And don't you forget it!" Halford sneered and there was the sound of chains. "Now stay here. If I catch you outside again, I'll have the wardens after you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Thorin growled.

"You know, I could beat you, maim you, even kill you...and under the law, it is legal," Halford hissed.

"You could try," Thorin replied, the voice dripping hatred.

"And if anything happens to me...well, you know what happens to escaped slaves," Halford sneered. Bilbo inched closer and could see the man leaning over Thorin. "They will hunt you down like the worthless dog you are and then your execution will be prolonged and brutal. And that will dishonour you and your house and your people..."

"I have no honour," Thorin told him gruffly. "That was forfeit when I surrendered." Halford sniggered.

"Clean up this mess," he snapped and slammed down the hatch. "And remember what I said. Maybe I'll write to your people and see if they want to buy you back?" There was a silence and Bilbo knew the answer from the dwarf's bleak words. Silently he walked away, thinking hard.

Thorin was a slave.

Bree was allowing a Man to keep a Dwarf slave.

And the Shire was doing business with them.

The Council of Bree was tacitly condoning slavery, tolerating the abuse of a dwarf who had clearly been given no choice.

Good gracious. This really wouldn't do.