[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smoothed down the new dress she had just put on, doing up the last of the buttns at the back. She had done up to her room to change into a clean dress, for the other one was now dusty and dirty, and had aquired a small rip catching on the odd instrument which Cami had pronounced to be a seed sower the first time they had come into the attic but, judging by its fierceness and its attitude towards Aman's dress, which Aman was becoming more and more sure was a long lost item of torture. When her dress had ripped, Vanwe had semmed very upset, saying to Aman that she would fix it, that she could handle a needle and thread. Aman had shushed her, confused, saying she would mend it herself. She couldn't help wondering why Vanwe had been so upset. Her own dress was patched many times, and was quite worn. Aman made a note that at the next event in the Shire when there was a possibility of presents being given, and there were plenty in the Shire, to bear Vanwe in mind.

She ran her hands over the treasure she had found in the attic, now draped across a large trunk at the foot of her bed, her fingers running over its soft folds, its texture almost silky. Not everything in there had been rubbish, and Aman had made a few finds which she was sure would attract even the non-Hobbit customers of the Inn, but she had smuggled one away to her room. The dress was dove grey underneath the dust, darker now with water, for Aman had washed it quickly to remove the dirt, curious to see what it was like cleaned up. A low, square neck, comely on herself, was lined with black, and the dress's sleeves were also very fancy, sloping and becoming wider, and ending at the elbow. Aman reckoned it would be worn with an undergarment of some kind, with full length sleeves which would run beneath and then out of the shorter sleeves of this dress. More importantly, it was human sized. Aman had no idea of how it had come to be in the attic, but it had been quite far back, and the original owner had certainly forgotten about it. She picked up the dress, trying it against herself in the mirror, and smiled. Vanwe was about her size, and this dress would fit her. The girl seemed to love pretty clothes, such as the feather boa, and Aman figured that if she was given a dress such as this, she would be delighted. And she intended to do so as soon as an oppurtunity presented itself.

The sound of Cami's voice reminded Aman that she should have been downstairs already. Carefully draping the dress across the trunk once more, she locked her door and went downstairs.

In the doorway of a side room leading off from the common room, Cami stood, a fierce expression on her face and a broom clutched in her hands as she shooed away the inquisitive denizens of the Inn (a crowd with an exceptional amount of hobbits straining forward particularly hard, Aman noticed). Aman pushed her way gently through the crowd, murmering apologies as she made her way to the door. Cami stepped back to let her through and a few hobbits attempted to rush their way through. Cami immediately sprang back into position, broom a-brandished.

Shutting the door, Aman breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped the masses, and looked around. Inside the room, piles of attic jumble were being sorted into various piles according to what they were. They were, however, several piles simply marked 'Mathoms'.

"Seems mathoms are even more highly valued than I though." She remarked, as the sound of Cami's authoritive, schoolteacher-like voice came from the other side of the door.

"You can't imagine, Miz Aman." The muffled voice came from behind a pile of furniture, and Cook unearthed herself. "Even I had to fight my way through."

The other sorters consisted of Vanwe, Buttercup and another who Aman vaguely recognised as Gilly, as well as another, Madea who had apparently been conscripted to help. There was a thump on the door and Aman jumped back, opening it slightly, then fully as she saw who it was.

"Feeling better, Derufin?" She inquired. The man certainly looked less sorry for himself as he brushed himself down, but glanced behind him at the closed door with a hunted look.

"They seem to have formed a mob!"

"Something to do with the wonders of mathoms."

"Mathoms?"

Aman shrugged, then beckoned him forward. They each chose a pile. "No doubt Vinca will explain as we go along. They have great value apparently."

"Apparently? Ooh, Miss Aman!" Vinca's voice was indignant. Aman grinned over a pile of toys.

"My apologies, Cook. Come on, we need to get this little lot sorted and ready for airing in the form of a jungle sale as soon as possible- before they get rabid and start calling for our blood!"