[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman whistled to herself cheerfully as she came into the relatively cool Common Room in a rather dramatic waft of smoke, which seemed to be appreciated by that strange fellow Gird, who clapped mildly, nodded politely, much to the apparent bemusement of his companion. But at least one of Aman's problems was, for the meantime, assuaged; after Cook had left, and Serilda so soon after actually coming, Aman had felt terrible about running the dedicated pair of hobbits around like that, not to mention herself. But this Hawthorne...strange that she should be so well educated in cooking, after all Meriadoc had said! But she had seemed so competent when Aman had asked her if she knew about cooking, elaborated in such detail; Aman had never been a cook herself. And Ruby and Buttercup were excellent company for anyone, as had been found by most anyone who passed through the Inn, as well those who had stayed for long; Pio, Derufin, Uien... - the Innkeeper reckoned it wouldn't take too long for the three hobbits to get on perfectly.

In high spirits, Aman ducked into the bar, still whistling chirpily.

"Ooh, Miz Aman, you gave me a fright; does do terrible things to one's heart to hear such a chirpin' comin' from so far above one's head, and inside too!"

The voice of an elderly hobbit-woman had Aman turn straight away to peer over the bar, and a moment later an deeply wrinkled but cheerful face appeared over the bar; the face of Rosemary Burrows, a hobbit whose recognisably voice seemed caught between the quaint Shire dialect and the high-and-mightys she spent much time with (after all, she liked a gossip as much as anyone). Still, Rosemary herself was as down to the ground as her namesake, and highly respected by Aman with it. The woman had a manner as delicate as a rose-petal but was a stern and competent teacher and that old cracked voice when at full throttle made many-a naughty hobbit bairn quail and wonder if there was a balrog on the patrol.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burrows; the day treating you well?" Aman inquired politely, turning sidewards so as to be able to prepare a cup of strong coffee, a beverage Rosemary drank almost religiously, whilst not having her back to the elderly hobbit.

She nodded and shifted her shawl with a sound like rustling snakeskin. "Aye, aye, 'twill suffice I daresay," she murmured, but smiled slightly as she said it. As Aman pushed the cup of coffee across the bar, her smile widened and she reached with one gnarled finger to it before stopping and pointing said finger at Aman almost accusingly. "Thankyou, my dear - but now listen, what's this about a Miz Hawthorne Brandybuck, hmm?" She stirred the coffee reflectively, giving Aman a sly sidewards look.

"What's that then, Rosemary?" came the mild reply. Aman knew full well that Rosemary probably knew very little, but had the talent of being able to convey she knew alot more. And 'twas only natural that the hobbit woman would take an interest, part-time gossip that she was, in Hawthorne's arrival at The Green Dragon.

But Rosemary knew more than Aman had suspected. She drove a finger into the bartop dramatically. "Why, that she's a-come to the 'Dragon to fix herself a place! A job! Daughter of that silly woman of-"

"How did you find that out so fast?" Aman was genuinely a little mystified. The old woman shot her another sly look and cackled slightly to herself. Aman couldn't help smiling as she leant forward on the bar towards Rosemary, curious herself about Rosemary's curiosity.

"So fast- psh!" she grinned roguishly, then went on. "But 'tis 'daftest thing I ever heard, to be sure...."

"Hmm?"

Rosemary looked up. "Why, the girl's been spoilt rotten all her life! I reckoned things would change for her under her cousin's excellent supervision of the Manor, but not so dramatically as packing Miss Priss off to an Inn! Why, the girl can't even clean, I should think! Has a maid!"

Aman froze. "A...a maid?"

Rosemary, apparently unaware of Aman's discomfort as she sipped at the rich dark beverage in front of her, nodded fervently as she put the cup back down into it's saucer. "Oh, indeed! A full staff of-"

"Miz Aman, can I have a word?" Ruby, standing harrassed at Aman's elbow with a steaming plate in each hand, cut off Rosemary at a vital point. The Innkeeper paused, worried at what may have come next, but mealtimes were no time for pause at any Inn within a ten mile radius of the Shire.

"Indeed Ruby, but let's get the meal sorted first."

"Of course, of course..." Ruby nodded firmly in reply, a Shire girl through and through, but the look of harrassed worry remained on her face. Buttercup had also come out of the kitchen, but, scanning the room, Aman caught no sign of the fine hairstyle of the newcomer amid the delighted Shire-folk...where was Hawthorne? Probably sorting something out in the kitchen... "Well, I wish you a good afternoon, Miss Burrows, and 'twas nice talking to you, as ever." Aman smiled charmingly and Ruby placed a plate of tantalising meat and veg under the old woman's nose. Rosemary rubbed her old hands together delightedly and, replying vaguely, she tucked into her meal and Aman scooted towards the kitchen, pausing to holler over her shoulder to the Common Room in general:

"Please pay as you take your meal, ladies and gentlemen, thankyou kindly!"

Darting into the steamy kitchen, Aman saw Buttercup holding a carving knife and looking murderous with it and involuntarily took a step back. "Miz Aman, could Ruby and I have a word?" she intoned darkly. Something strange appeared to be happening to cause her eyebrows to slide and dart in Hawthorne's direction.

"Aye, Buttercup, certainly - straight after lunch alright for you? There'll be time now we have more help, I'm sure..."

Buttercup snorted enigmatically and, taking up several more plates than should have been possible. Taking a few of her own, Aman turned to see Hawthorne lying comfortably by the fire, her feet up, scribbling in a notebook and couldn't help blinking. "Hawthorne? Come on, it won't serve itself I'm afraid."

The hobbit looked up, her mouth a round 'O' of surprise. "But...but I was going to overse..." she trailed off as Aman's look, almost inperceptibly, hardened a fraction. Standing and smoothing her dress, she looked around unhappily. "Erm...yes..."

Spending no more time, confident in Hawthorne's experience, Aman swept back into the Common Room to deliver her plates at the bar and to the tables.