[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

Kaldir watched as Gilly's brown head bobbed out of sight through the opening in the bramble hedge. It had been a calculated risk, giving her the freedom to run down to the stream on her own like that, but it also served another purpose. It was a test. He needed to see exactly how far his dominance extended over her, to see if she could be trusted. So far, he admired her gumption. She was a courageous little thing, even if she was a bit foolish. He had always heard that hobbits were made of tougher stuff than they appeared, and it interested him to see that it was true. If she could be trusted to do as she was told, Mrs. Banks could be of great use to him. As for her friend...

He turned and looked at Benia, who sat before him, bound and shackled on the ground. He still had not made up his mind what to do about her. She was courageous, too. He remembered the way she had looked the day before when, unable to outrun him, she had turned and drawn her sword. Especially with her injured ankle, she must have known that she would never have stood a chance against him. If he had been inclined to kill her, she would be dead. Yet her eyes had shown no fear. In fact, he remembered being struck by the stern beauty of her as she turned to face him, the sureness of her movements, the determination in her face. She had looked to him like the princess of some tragic Haradrim romance, the way the morning sun had made the silver spangles of her facial jewelry sparkle like diamonds against her olive skin. Stubbornly, he turned away from her and made his way back in the direction of the horses.

She was a distraction. No. He shook his head. She was a bounty, and one for which he would be handsomely paid, nothing more and nothing less. It was unfortunate that he had come across her just as Naiore had made her appearance, complicating a pursuit that would have been difficult without the extra baggage presented by her and Mrs. Banks, but he had no intention of letting them go. He would just have to find a way to work around them. The first problem was Bree.

Based on his conversation with Barrold Ferney, Kaldir believed that Naiore was still in the vicinity of Bree, if not still within the town's walls. Ferney had a history of trafficking not only in hot merchandise, but in fugitives as well. She had probably gone underground into one of Ferney's various hiding places. He knew most of them from past dealings with Ferney, some with Ferney's knowledge, others without. He would have to search them one by one until he found a trace of Naiore's presence. He would start with Ferney's house, though that was the least likely place, and from there move on to the other rat holes, caves, and deserted buildings that Ferney made use of, starting with the ones Ferney did not know he was aware of. The desert woman and the hobbit would just have to come with him.

Kaldir began redistributing the supplies of the pack pony between the three horses, as Mrs. Banks would now have to ride the pack pony. It would raise too many eyebrows for a respectable-looking hobbit lady like Mrs. Banks to be seen riding double with the likes of him. She, in fact, both women, would have to seem to be with him of their own accord. Otherwise, he could expect no end of complications and interference once they entered Bree. As it was, their presence with him might generate a few whispers, but whispers were acceptable. Interference was not.

Recalling something he had heard back at the Forsaken Inn, he pulled Benia's rucksack from the back of the bay mare and carried it over to where she sat. Unfastening the drawstring at the top, he rifled through the contents. "You are known in Bree, are you not?" he asked abruptly. When Benia nodded, Kaldir continued. "You have family there?"

"Yes."

"Will they be looking for you?"

She hesitated a moment as though weighing her options, trying to decide how much he knew or might have heard. Finally, with lowered eyes, she shook her head. "No."

Kaldir nodded. Then, finding what he was looking for, he drew a folded piece of dark green cloth from Benia's pack and laid it on the blanket beside her. It was her headshawl and veil. He saw her cast a quick glance at it, but she made no other reaction. Kaldir put the rucksack aside. Then, kneeling down beside her, he reached behind her knees and untied the rope that had bound her legs. "How is your ankle?"

"Better," she answered softly.

"Good." He handed her the veil. "Put this on.” He walked back and lashed the rucksack once more to the back of the bay mare. When he returned, leading the three horses, he was pleased to see that Benia had risen to her feet and donned the veil. It was the sort that completely covered her in drapery, leaving only a panel of fine mesh for her to see through. Of her actual person, only the end of her long black braid and her tattooed hands were visible. At first he considered having her wear gloves to conceal the tribal tattoos, but decided against it. As ordinary Breefolk were generally shy and leery of foreigners, he was counting on her foreignness to help keep them at bay. The tattoos could only help.

But, Mrs. Banks, on the other hand... where was Mrs. Banks? He was just beginning to get annoyed again, thinking that this time he really would disembowel her and leave her for the vultures, when she reappeared through the opening in the bramble hedge, toting a spotless stewpot. Seeing his expression, she stopped short and held the gleaming pot up in front of her. Her dark eyes flitted from Kaldir’s scowling face to the fabric-shrouded figure of her friend and back. “It-it was a horrible mess, Mr. Kaldir,” she stammered. “The sauce all cooked to the bottom of the pan. I had a dickens of a time getting it clean with no soap or hot water or anything.” She paused and raised the pan a little higher. “But I finally did get it.” Her eyes traveled again from Kaldir to Benia to the three horses and back again. “Are we leaving now?”

Kaldir nodded. “We are indeed.” He walked over and, none too gently, snatched the stewpot out of her hand. He wanted to smack her with it, but restrained himself, as smacking her would serve no purpose other than to make him feel better. It would no doubt only make her more troublesome. “We are going into Bree. Get on the pony.”

With a good deal of hesitation and misgiving, Gilly did as she was told. Once she had mounted the little pack pony and Benia had been installed on to the back of the bay mare, Kaldir reached into the breast of his shirt and pulled out a small key on a leather thong, which he inserted in the lock that secured the shackles on Benia’s wrists. Looking up into the mesh panel of her veil, he turned the key in the lock and removed the shackles.

“I can’t take you into Bree in shackles,” he said calmly. “That would raise far too many questions. But I expect both of you - ” he cast a sharp glance at Gilly “ - to stay close to me and do as you are told. If you don't, if you try to get away, things will be so much the worse for you. I don't have the time to play any more games and I know lots of gruesome ways to kill you. Do you understand?”

When both women had nodded their acquiescence, he nodded again and swung himself easily into the saddle of his gray horse. He glanced up at the ever brightening sky. It was market day and Bree’s gates would be open now. They could enter town with the market day crowd and scarcely even raise an eyebrow. Still scowling, he kicked his horse forward and led the way out of the hidden campsite into the open, the two women following close behind. The old wounds in his face had begun to throb again, which put him in a foul frame of mind, but he was used to the pain. Mentally, he pushed it away and rode boldly toward the northern gate into Bree.

As he had expected, they passed through the gate with a couple of farm families who had come in from their outlying acreages to attend the market. Kaldir and his companions, Benia in particular, received a curious glance from the gatekeeper as they passed, but no questions were asked. Their horses hooves made a steady clop-clop-clop on the cobblestones as they passed.