TWO.
By the time Bilbo had made it to the Prancing Pony, he was furious. His Tookish blood was completely riled up at the thought that another person could be kept as a slave, no better than a beast of burden and considerably worse than any pet. That Thorin-a skilled smith-should be treated badly and obviously be so despairing broke his heart and the hobbit was determined to try to do something. After all, if the people of Bree tolerated a dwarf slave, what was to stop them accepting hobbits as slaves? But as he paced his room, he knew that anger alone wouldn't help Thorin. He had to get the other away.
It was obvious that appealing to the Council would avail him little. In fact, everyone in Bree was complicit with the act and as a Hobbit of the Shire, he felt the act of keeping a slave was abhorrent and wholly against Yavanna's wishes. And while he knew all the arguments, having read them in his books-that whoever was being treated as an animal was less than his owner, that he somehow deserved or should feel grateful for being enslaved-such arguments never held any sway with Bilbo. Let alone that what he had read of dwarvish culture showed them to be a highly intelligent and creative people-a little martial for Bilbo's sensibilities but loyal to their families and brave. And dominated by their honour…the same honour that Thorin had bitterly confirmed had been taken from him.
He mulled over the words.
I have no honour. That was forfeit when I surrendered.
There was a tale there-one that was painful for the dwarf to reveal but which Halford was fully aware of. Somehow, it gave him power over his slave and the tone Halford had used had raised the hairs at the back of the hobbit's neck. Bilbo wondered if the Man bribed the Council to tolerate him. Almost certainly, given his behaviour. And as long as he controlled a capable smith, he would be allowed to stay.
But what could Bilbo actually do? It was plain that though some people were offended by the situation, no one would actually step forward to rock the status quo. There was clearly no law against slavery, as there was in the Shire and no authority to demand that the dwarf was freed. But Bilbo's heart and conscience would not permit him to walk away. His mother, Belladonna Took, would have boxed his ears until the ends of the world if he faltered. This was not something a decent hobbit should ever be complicit with-no matter that it pertained to events beyond their border. Bilbo had met the man: if he walked away, he was as guilty as the people of Bree.
So there was only one option, one that made his skin crawl but that made sense, given the smith's sole focus on gold. And Bilbo was a wealthy Hobbit, for all his fastidious manners and relatively inexperience outside his home. But he was kind and determined and the idea he would ride away leaving another being in such a desperate situation was unthinkable.
He needed to talk with his fellow hobbits.
-o0o-
Bilbo had barely slept and was up, bathed and dressed well before First Breakfast. He paced up and down so much that Adelgrim had to eject him from the room so he took a brisk early walk round the town, passing the little road to the Forge and casting an anxious glance at the shut up building. Panic gripped him. What if Thorin didn't want to come with the hobbits and preferred to remain with Halford? What if he offended the dwarf, Halford and the people of Bree? But at least the other three were in complete agreement with him and his plan and they would back him up with the Thain if there were any consequences. Then he paused and closed his eyes, allowing the warm light of the morning sun to caress his features. For a moment, he could hear his parents' voices.
Bilbo-you are a brave and decent young hobbit and we have always taught you what is right. Do not be afraid to stand up for the right thing, no matter the risk. Because you should always strive to be a person you would want to know, a person you would want to trust…and the person you want to meet in the mirror each morning.
He took a deep breath, then headed back to the Inn to have a proper breakfast. The other hobbits were there and watching Bilbo with degrees of anxiety and curiosity. Of all the cousins, Bilbo had always been one of the more adventurous when he was a child, sneaking out to meet the Elves, coming back covered in moss and leaves and twigs and fireflies. But in his tweens, he had calmed down, though he was still very curious and interested in other cultures. And then his parents had died, both swept away in an illness that had ravaged their small land and caused terrible sadness for the Hobbits. The Shire had only just recovered but Bilbo hadn't-not really. The cheerful hobbit had become withdrawn, sticking to the smial that his father had built for his mother and had retreated to becoming a miniature version of his father…until this trip. He looked up.
"You look at me as if I'm about to stab someone,' he commented, spearing a mushroom and deftly folding a strip of toast around it. Adelgrim nearly choked on his scrambled eggs.
"Um…no…" he coughed. "But you were eyeing that tomato as if it was about to jump you…"
"You really were," Barius confirmed, chewing his bacon. He snagged another couple of rashers. Flambard broke into his fried egg with a sigh of satisfaction.
"You can say what you want about foreign travel-but this is a proper breakfast," he pronounced and took a big bite. "And you should eat, Cousin Bilbo. You need your strength for this. We are all going to be with you in case any…nonsense happens."
"There could be nonsense?" Barius asked, frowning.
"Flam-eat your egg," Adalgrim told him with a smirk. "We're Tooks…"
"I'm a Chubb!" Barius protested.
"Your grandmother was a Took!" Flambard pointed out.
"That makes me the least Tookish of all of you!" the Chubb retorted, his honey blond hair tousled.
"You know, being a Took is a state of mind and if you have one single drop of Took blood in you, you can achieve it!" Adalgrim told him. "And you think anyone can stand up to four Tooks?"
"Three and a quarter!" Barius put in.
"Four!" Flambard retorted and grabbed another slice of fried bread.
"Good black pudding," Bilbo commented, dipping it in his egg. He was smiling, his nerves a little soothed by the familiar bickering. This was the last good breakfast they would get until they were back in the Shire, even though it was a straight and reasonably easy road. "Adelgrim is half Baggins and half Took-same as I am. Flambard-you are half Took and half Boffin. Barius is a quarter Chubb, Took, Baggins and Boffin. Hobbit families are so intertwined that if you look carefully enough, everyone is part Took." He looked up and gave a secret smile. "The secret we have is not letting anyone else know that!" They all burst out laughing and willingly accepted seconds when the barmaid offered. Finally replete, the quartet rose.
"You sure?" Flambard asked, wiping his mouth. Bilbo nodded.
"I want to be the person I can meet in the mirror tomorrow morning," he explained quietly and Adalgrim clapped him on the shoulder.
"Grandfather used to say that as well," he admitted. "Aunt Belladonna?" Bilbo smiled.
"Let's go," he said and they walked out of the Prancing Pony. Trying to walk as if they were not a hobbit lynch mob, the four walked evenly and purposefully through the market, occasionally glancing to the left and right but mainly straight ahead, their eyes locking on hatch of the forge, which was still shuttered. Bilbo felt a flicker of anxiety run through him. It should be open by now: what was wrong? Then he shook himself. It wasn't as if there was any strict timetable, though he was concerned by the coincidence that the morning he planned to act, the way was closed.
Adelgrim rapped on the hatch with his knuckles, then again.
There was no response. So Adalgrim repeated the action.
"We're closed." The voice was Halford's, which concerned Bilbo more.
"We have a business proposition, which may prove extremely lucrative," Adelgrim called, keeping his voice stern and professional. They had agreed that he would do the talking, as the most experienced in representing the Thane-but also because he had no prior dealings with Halford so the Man would not recognise his voice. There were the sounds of movement within and finally, the hatch slid open.
"Ah-little masters," the Man said, his eyes flocking over the four smaller shapes. They all had to force themselves not to tense up at the derogatory address, meeting the calculating and covetous eyes of the grubby man facing them. "What can I do for you?"
"We wish to speak with your assistant," Flambard said. Halford's face fell into a snarl.
"I hardly see what profit that holds for me," he snapped and reached for the handle of the hatch. Bilbo flipped up a gold coin.
"Does this answer your question?" he asked pointedly and after a very short battle with himself, Halford snatched the coin and gestured. Thorin was standing back, head up and shoulders drawn back proudly-but Bilbo could read shame in his eyes. There was a livid welt on his cheek that Bilbo realised was the aftermath of the previous night's altercation. The Man glared at him.
"Speak," he snapped as Bilbo leaned forward.
"Thorin-are you happy here?" he asked, feeling his cheeks warm at the stupidity of the question. The dwarf frowned, as if the words did not make sense.
"My feelings are of no matter," he said.
"Are you treated well?" Bilbo asked. Thorin looked at him now, a look almost of betrayal.
"I am content," he said flatly, his tone careful.
"How much do you earn for your work?" he asked. The flinch was unmistakeable.
"I am recompensed adequately," Thorin lied as Halford shifted.
"Is this going to take much longer?" he sneered. Adalgrim looked up, his clear grey eyes determined.
"We wish to offer your assistant a new job," he said firmly. Halford laughed, the sound cruel and Bilbo knew then that this wasn't going to be easy. The Man walked over to Thorin and grabbed an arm, wrenching it up to display the heavy steel band round his wrist.
"You see this?' Halford sneered. "In case you half-witted halflings don't understand, these are slave bands. This dwarf belongs to me. Paid good money for him. He has no say what he does, who he serves, what he eats, what he gets paid…he's mine, with no more rights than this hammer!" And he lifted the nearest hammer and brandished it at the four hobbits.
"Then if he is property, he is for sale," Bilbo said softly. "And we wish to purchase him."
He really wished he hadn't been looking at Thorin at that moment, for seeing the look of betrayal and pain that crossed the handsome face had broken something inside the hobbit. Halford laughed.
"I really doubt that four little halflings could afford this specimen!" he sneered. Adalgrim lifted his chin.
"We are all members of the Took family," he revealed. "The family of the Thain. Our pockets are deep, Master Halford. Name your opening price."
Bilbo turned back to look at Thorin, listening to the opening figure with a wince. As a hobbit, Bilbo was particularly wealthy, for his parents had been blessed with generous gifts and inheritances and Bungo, Bilbo's late father, had invested wisely. His accounts were full and he knew he could cover the costs but even then, the figure Halford asked for was outrageous. Yet Adelgrim remained calm and made a low counter offer. Halford sneered but made another-lower-bid. Flambard, Barius and Bilbo all pulled out documents, prepared the previous night and sighed. Only two pieces of information needed to be completed before the smith could sign. Adelgrim continued the barter and Bilbo could only imagine how Thorin felt. There was something about the dwarf, his bearing straight and controlled, the cast of his features, that suggested his dignity was precious to him-no matter how much had been stripped from him. And the fact he was being haggled over like a piece of meat must be one of the most degrading things a person could endure.
Thorin. The word gleamed at Bilbo, freshly written in black ink on the contract. Today's date was filled out last night as had been Bilbo's signature and that of Adelgrim as witness. He wondered if the dwarf understood what was actually happening, why Bilbo was spending a substantial portion of his fortune on a person he had traded maybe a dozen or so words with and had met two days earlier?
"Done!" The sound of Adelgrim's palm slapping against Halford's drew Bilbo back to the present and he filled out the requisite amount, grateful that Adalgrim had reduced the number substantially. Still, it was a lot but he had prepared the funds before they had left the room.
"Thorin-do you have a family name or other descriptor?" Flambard asked, his eyes hovering over his copy. There was a pause.
"My family is lost to me," the dwarf said in a strained voice.
"Anything?"
There was another pause.
"Oakenshield." The word was reluctant, softly spoken like an admission of guilt-not that the hobbits would recognise it or know to whom it related. Nodding, the three scribes completed the last piece of information and handed the contracts for Halford to sign. Finally, the hobbits handed over the money. One contract was given to the Man to prove the sale: the others remained with Bilbo, who folded them away into his coat.
"Please collect your possessions and come with us," Bilbo invited him, willing his face not to betray any pity. Instinctively, he knew pity would be the last thing that the dwarf would appreciate. Thorin looked away, backing away from Halford, who was still counting the golden coins that were weighing heavy in the purses the hobbits had handed over. As Bilbo watched, he snagged a ragged tunic-dark blue and evidently once fine-as well as a patched blanket and-in a gesture of defiance-a handful of tools. Halford glared and swiped at him but he backed out through the door and his heavy steps approached the hobbits. Every eye turned to Bilbo and he took a deep breath.
"I think we should leave," he said as Barius nodded.
"I'll get the carts ready," he offered.
"We'll settle up at the Inn," Flambard added and headed off with Adelgrim, taking one copy of the contract with them and leaving Bilbo with Thorin, standing outside the forge. Willing himself not to stammer, the hobbit turned and walked a few steps, then paused.
"Have you had breakfast?" he asked the dwarf. Thorin looked puzzled.
"Why?" he asked, not referring to the food. Bilbo sighed.
"I have no evil intentions," he assured the other, taking a breath. "Look, we can talk about this once we're away from this place. Please, come with me." For a moment, Thorin looked as if he would refuse-but he nodded in reluctant acquiescence and followed as Bilbo scanned the hobbit stalls, bartering spiritedly with the hobbit at the food stall. He got a great deal on a half dozen pies and several rolls and small cakes. But he also bought a couple of cheese and meat pasties and smiled as they were wrapped up in a piece of brown paper. Then he walked down to the next stall, taking a flask of ale and humming to himself. He glanced up and then pressed the flask and paper-wrapped package into the dwarf's hand. Thorin was already shaking his head.
"Breakfast," Bilbo told him as he looked back, stricken before his face closed.
"I can't..." he began as Bilbo planted his hands on his hips and glared at him.
"I'm wagering that you haven't even had first, let alone second breakfast," he told the dwarf tartly. Something flickered in his blue eyes as Bilbo noted a few more tiny details about the dwarf. The way he folded his powerful arms across his broad chest. The hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes that should not be there. The bruise that marred his cheek, given to him by a man that Bilbo knew in his heart this dwarf could flatten with little effort…had he wanted to. The proud tilt of his head, even though he felt he was dishonoured. There had been too few meals and too little concern for this dwarf in however long he had endured his slavery and it hurt Bilbo's heart to imagine it. "As a friend, I cannot in any conscience allow you to go hungry. Hobbits share food, whatever we have. You can eat when we get to the wagons."
Then he headed down the road and there was a pause before the heavy footsteps sounded again. He knew that Thorin was following but he had no idea what to say. Quietly, they slipped into the stables and Bilbo relaxed as he saw Barius was yoking the ponies to the second, loaded wagon.
"All done?" the other hobbit asked cheerfully. Bilbo rolled his eyes.
"Not even slightly," he sighed as Thorin paused.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked warily. Exasperated, Bilbo gestured to a bale of hay and humphed.
"Sit down and eat your breakfast!" he snapped.
"You are serious?" Thorin realised as Bilbo nodded.
"Thorin, you are not a slave," he told the dwarf. As predicted, the handsome face closed, an impressive scowl masking everything. He raised his wrist in anger.
"This says I am!" he snapped. Bilbo pulled the other set of contracts from his pocket.
"And these say you are not!" he retorted. "We drew these up last night. All four of us have signed. I just need to add your name and then it is official: you are freed." Thorin stared, his arm dropping.
"What?" There was shock and treacherous hope in that small word. Bilbo sighed, opening the papers and pulling out a small quill and inkwell. Swiftly, he wrote Thorin's name on each copy and them gently blew it dry. Barius had finished harnessing the second cart by the time the ink was dry enough to fold the copies. Methodically, he handed one copy of the purchase and the release to Thorin and then he offered a small smile.
"There,' he said. Slowly, as if in a dream, the dwarf stared at the papers before he gave a low groan.
"I-I can't…" he said brokenly, his head bowed. Instantly, Bilbo was up.
"Thorin-hobbits don't accept slavery," he said gently. "I paid that man to make sure you could be freed. I couldn't look at my face in the mirror, knowing that you were imprisoned against your will and I did not do everything in my power to free you." He leaned forward. "You are free. You can go home." Thorin's shoulders sagged and for a moment he looked the picture of despair before he slowly sat up and faced the hobbit with his mask back in place.
"I cannot go back to my family," he said quietly. "I am dishonoured. They would not acknowledge me and…" He stopped. Bilbo paused.
"You can…come to the Shire, if you want," Bilbo offered hesitantly. Thorin's eyes hardened, the blue growing remote. "You could work…respectably…while you choose what to do next." He shrugged. "I don't want to insult you but you are a great smith-much better than Halford, I suspect. You did all the work…except the shoddy swords that were sold to the Bree Council…" There was a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Currently, the forge in Hobbiton is closed-old Musskin Snowmane retired a couple of years ago-and the nearest is the one in Frogmorton. And-and though I know it must be demeaning to take such prosaic work when I am certain your…former life was very different. I know little of your race, I am afraid, but I guess that smith work must feel demeaning because the skills of your kin are acknowledged as extraordinary. But I also know in the short term you could earn enough to at least get some clothes, weapons and provisions…"
Thorin's face was a study, his eyes moving through anger, shame, shock, astonishment and finally hope and a hint of gratitude.
"But won't your people be shocked and…wary of you bringing some unknown dwarf back with you, wearing slave bands?' he asked directly.
"They already think he's odd," Adelgrim announced, arriving with their packs. Flambard nodded.
"Thanks," Bilbo said sourly.
"I think no one would bat an eyelid," Flambard added.
"Except Lobelia and Otho who would love to get me run out of the Shire for being too unHobbitlike," Bilbo grumbled. Thorin stared at him.
"Though Uncle Isengrim wouldn't hear of it," Adelgrim added. "The choice is yours but you are welcome in the Shire." There was a pause. Then he nodded.
"I…would be grateful," he said slowly. "And for my own peace of mind, I need to repay the money you spent in releasing me." Bilbo opened his mouth but Thorin shook his head. "If I am free, then let it be on my own terms. Let me behave with what honour I can glean and repay you for what you did for me."
Bilbo stared at him and then he nodded.
"If it makes you feel better, then of course," he said quietly. And then he smiled. "Now, will you please eat your breakfast?"