Chapter Text
The Girl fidgeted. Only with her feet, the rest of her she kept still, her posture straight and strong, her chin up, her pride in being considered beautiful enough to be chained to her master's stirrup obvious.
The rider pulled her close by the steel chain that went from her right wrist to his left stirrup, it was no hardship for her to lean into him, her head resting against his thigh. They were deep undercover, involved in a life or death intelligence mission and it could easily be death to let their disguise slip up even a little.
Although the Girl was free now, she had again donned a collar and slave tunic of her own free will to help out. Her hair was loose, and her collar was firmly locked on; she felt she was bound to her master's will as a true Slave Girl again, her training and conditioning so deeply engrained she was not acting.
He stroked her hair and soothed her. 'Easy, lass, we'll be past these checkpoints soon enough.'
She shivered, a frightened, vulnerable slave girl again, she pressed her lips to her master's hand. He, the master, felt terrible. It went against all his dwarf nature to treat this deeply beloved and cherished woman this way, as a slave, yet their disguise required it.
Past one checkpoint, the guards checking the Girl's brand,and transit papers and her Master's papers, all of which had been expertly forged by highly trained scribes.
At the next checkpoint, the Master drew his sword on a guard attempting to touch the Girl intimately. The creepy oily looking idiot had frozen at the touch of the sword point to his throat.
Kneeling on the examination platform in brand inspection position, the Girl had endured the guard's foul touch as he'd lifted her short tunic to expose the almost hip high brand on her left thigh.
'Common X brand, green eyes, dark honey hair, height 5' 2", measurements?' Another Slave Girl stepped forward and measured the kneeling Girl, nodding at the results.
The measuring Girl handed the Slave's papers back to her Master as the guard casually forced the Slave backwards by her hair to enjoy the look of her in a Slave Bow. 'A pity she's clothed,' he remarked, then as his right hand went to touch the terrified Girl intimately, the Master had drawn his sword like lightning, 'she's not branded there,' he snarled.
Backing away, a decent scratch on his neck bleeding, the guard waved the Girl and her Master on. Again, the Girl was chained to her Master's stirrup as they traveled the ten miles to the next checkpoint.
Again, the Master was astonished by the Girl's endurance. As part of a wandering party of dwarves, she once a true Slave, but since freed, they had traveled far in Middle-earth, but never like this before.
Mile after mile she paced the trotting pony, her gait sure and relaxed. Often she had spoken of her childhood, living out with the desert tribesmen, learning to cover vast distances swiftly on foot.
When they finally pulled up at the next, and final checkpoint, the pony was winded, but the Girl, though sweating a bit seemed still fresh and able to run on.
A low whistle greeted their arrival at the checkpoint, 'you've got a ripe beauty there. Is she for sale?' The guard was openly admiring the Girl.
The Master pulled her close again, 'No.'
'She'd be worth a good bit, maybe a hundred gold pieces.'
'No.'
'She's just a Girl, you could easily buy another.'
'If she's just a Girl you go buy another. She's not for sale.' The Master's voice was low and deadly, all the aggression of a trained warrior showing in his movements and voice. 'Are our papers in order or not?'
'Yes,' replied another guard. 'Emissary, you are welcome. Does your Girl have a name?'
'Aye, she does.'
'We need to put that name on the list of Slaves permitted at this meeting.'
'Esme.'
'Very good. Master Dwarf, you are welcome as a representative from the King of Erebor and the Slave Girl known as Esme, who is described in these papers. Do you wish to kennel the Girl?'
'No.'
The second guard sighed. It would be so much easier to have had all the visiting emissaries Girls kennelled, but most insisted on keeping their most personal slaves close.
He handed a small map to the annoyed dwarf. 'You will find lodgings for yourself and your Girl aways down this street plus stabling for the pony.'
Without saying a word the dwarf turned the pony in the direction indicated by the map and rode off, both guards openly admiring the beauty of the Girl.
At a likely looking lnn, cleaner than some others, the Master dismounted, unshackling the Girl. A boy appeared, and when flung a coin, took the pony away to be cared for and fed. 'Take the baggage to my room when you're done.' Another coin followed.
The Girl heeled the Master as commanded. 'The likes of her ain't allowed in the tap room at this hour,' a fairly well groomed lnnkeeper spoke
'Then send food up to my room, enough for her as well, and ale.' The Master showed his papers and the lnnkeeper's attitude changed.
'Yes, of course, sir. A front room? With private facilities? Done! Do you want to kennel the Girl or keep her in your room?'
'She stays by me.'
'Very good, all our large rooms are equipped to keep Girls under tight security, but if you need anything special let us know, we keep an extensive range of disciplinary gear.'
The Master, again his Dwarven nature revolted by what he was being forced to do, didn't answer, too busy memorising the Inn's layout, as he knew the Girl was also doing.
By the time they had both washed up, and checked over the room for layout, hidden doors and traps, and any secondary ways in or out, the hot food ordered had arrived.
Using her extensive training the Girl checked the food and drink for poison. All clear, both ate and drank, hungry from their long journey as they discussed in low voices their plans.
'We got into the city easily enough, now how to get into the Slaver's house tomorrow?'
'Quite easily, Master.' He scowled at her using the word Master, but it had to be. 'Tomorrow you will take me there to have me appraised for insurance