'The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, labouring in the villages of Men.'

Gold was not the only thing lost on the day Smaug took up residence in the mountain kingdom of Erebor. The beast had stolen from them their livelihood, the very essence their existence. Their survival depended on their ability to adapt to a world considered far inferior to their own. The skills of a master craftsman dwarf are reduced to uselessness in the villages of Men with their rudimentary machinery and base ambitions. Others made use of their skills as warriors – offering themselves as an escort for merchants' convoys travelling through the Blue Mountains for delivery to the surrounding towns and villages of Men and hobbits.

It was indignant to the previously revered race of noble dwarves of Erebor to be reduced to common day labourers and mercenaries, but even a prince needed food and shelter – things not easy to come by in the unfriendly and distrusting communities in the North. It was not a rare occurrence to hear of a former dwarf lord begging for work on the roads leading to farms in the countryside. Dwarf women sometimes took up work in the kitchens and gardens of the rich, some rendered widows by the siege of Erebor. Some even resorted to selling themselves to the men of the villages for a night – anything to earn a few coins to spend on their dwarflings which were never too far behind, and could often be seen sauntering through the garbage heaps outside the villages.

As the years passed and the great halls of Erebor were almost completely faded from the memories of those who once lavished in its riches, dwarf kinships separated, hopefully seeking employment in other parts of the land. This time arrived even for the former prince of Erebor and his kin. Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews had just been informed that their services as guardsmen to the some spice traders of Bree-land were no longer required and hence they had set off to the village of Bree to seek other means of occupation.

Bree was a hostile, lawless place; its residents mainly consisted of small-scale traders and it was well known to be a foot hole for illegal activity. Even as Thorin, Fíli and Kíli entered its gates at midmorning, they witnessed an old man driving a cart being robbed of some of his vegetable produce and no-one except the old man even uttered a word in protest.

"Stay close," Thorin whispered to his nephews walking at his side, "And keep your wits about you."

Fíli and Kíli nodded, continuing their brisk pace aside their uncle down the main street of Bree. Even though Bree was a multiracial village consisting of men, hobbits, and as of a more recent time some dwarves, the company of three still received a few interested glances. As they passed a tavern indicated as The Prancing Pony, they spotted a dwarf woman slouching in an alleyway with her shawl draped over her bare shoulders, occasionally meeting the eyes of men but instantly averting her gaze as Thorin and his nephews passed.

Even after all these years of suffering this indignity, Fíli could still see the way his uncle winced inwardly at the sight of his people being reduced to the scum of the earth. They reached the caravans of Bree just in time see a convoy carrying hay and barley leave through the traders' gate. A terrible stench of animal waste, rotting fruit and bad company polluted the air.

"Disgusting place," Thorin spat, looking on as a screeching pig was pushed into a too-small crate and loaded into a dilapidated caravan. Another convoy appeared to be preparing to leave and at Thorin's bidding Fíli approached the driver with as much confidence as he could muster, "Pardon me, sir. We are dwarves of the Blue Mountains offering service as escort through the mountain ranges."

The driver didn't even seem to take notice of the dwarf and simply turned around and disappeared into a nearby building, shouting some obscenities. Fíli shrugged and continued to the next caravan. Thorin and Kíli remained at the sidelines, leaving the task of business negotiation to Fíli who possessed the best arbitration skills by far.

After some time, Fíli returned wearing a dispirited expression, "None, not even at a reduced price." Both the others sighed their frustration: the service of three warriors of noble blood not even worth a moment of these simple traders' time.

"We could continue on to the farmlands," Kíli suggested "It is harvest season for barley and they will most probably take on a few extra hands."

Thorin shook his head, "It is still only temporary. We will need something more permanent if we are going to survive staying in these parts throughout winter."

A sharp whistle interrupted the conversation: a man amongst the caravans was waving Fíli over. After a brief discussion, Fíli returned looking at least somewhat hopeful.

"He says he can use one of us to guard his shipment of pelts from here to the Shire; he is leaving this afternoon" Fíli said, pointing over at a small but stacked cart standing near the gate of the trading post.

"Only one?" Kíli asked, "And three silvers isn't much for a two week journey."

"He says that on return to Bree he will be leaving with a large caravan of goods to trade with our kin in the Iron Hills. He will then be able to afford all three of us at a reasonable fee," Fíli continued, looking at Thorin expectantly.

After a moment of quiet deliberation, Thorin answered, "If we can reach the Iron Hills before winter we may be able find work amongst our own."

"But we can't afford to wait for two weeks – we have enough coin to survive for maybe a week, if not less," Kíli added. "We will need to find other work in the meantime."

"Don't know if you noticed, but work isn't exactly offered in abundance at the moment!" Fíli snapped.

"Enough!" Thorin interjected. "Kíli's right. We will seek employment in the farmlands until the caravan leaves for the Iron Hills."

"The trader emphasized that he would be leaving again as soon as he returns from the Shire and that he cannot tally even for a moment to wait for us," Fíli said, addressing his uncle, "Thorin, you must accompany the trader to the Shire. Kíli and I will seek work in the farmlands until you return. Between the three of us we should have enough coin for the journey to the Iron Hills."

Thorin shook his head. "No, I won't leave you two here amongst these unsavoury people," Thorin said eyeing the passing villagers with suspicion.

"We can surely survive two weeks without your protection," Fíli reasoned, "We have been here the whole day and this is the best opportunity we have gotten."

Thorin seemed lost in thought for a while, trudging around the mud and finally letting out a sigh of resignation. "Alright, but you stay out of the village as much as you can. There are plenty of men here eager to pick a fight with a dwarf." His nephews nodded. "Leave word at the Prancing Pony of where you will be staying. As soon as I return, I send for you and you can catch up."

It was after this decision that Fíli made arrangements with the trader leaving for the Shire and then the company retired to an inn for the night. With first morning light, Thorin left for the trading post and the two brothers started down the dirt path leading to the farms outside of Bree.

-000-

Kerán was a vegetable farmer living outside of Bree. The season for harvesting summer vegetables was now over and he had to rely on other income to carry him through the cold winter months until the next harvest. Amongst some evergreen trees on his lands, just beyond his pig sties, was a small stone hovel - inside a large dusty forge and an anvil stood beneath a layer of ash and dust. Beside the anvil was a crooked wooden table and underneath it lies the still articulated skeleton of a creature smaller than human, yet larger than a hobbit.

TBC