[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman surveyed the room proudly: once again the Green Dragon has put on a spread worthy of any Gondorian hall. And it will be a party fit for any part of the Shire too, she added to herself, despite the non-halfling nature of the Innkeeper. But it wasn't quite ready yet, the Innkeeper was convinced; something was missing...Aman narrowed her eyes as she looked around the tables, sure she had missed something out.

Darting back into the kitchen, the woman visually checked everything. The rest of the cakes for later were laid out, hundreds of little teacups lined the surfaces for when coffee and tea would be served, jugs of squash, readily prepared to be brought out when the drinks already there were finished, sat covered in a clump in the middle of the central table: orange, apple, cranberry, summer fruits, pear. In the gaps and on the shelves were perched various sweet, sugary and savoury delights to be brought out on the trays stacked at the side later. Hands on her hips, the Innkeeper finally had to conceed, as she stared around the immaculately prepared kitchen, that maybe it was all ready...

Fiddling with the fine, cream-coloured linen sleeves of the long-sleeved underdress she was wearing under her pale blue dress, the Innkeeper then absent-mindedly straightened the slanting, elbow length sleeves of the overdress, mentally going through the arrangements for the party. Hawthorne is in the Common Room, Ruby and Buttercup getting ready upstairs, barrels filled behind the bar, food out on the trestles, extras in here, musicians notified and practised, Vinca arriving this afternoon!...I'll just get the trays of sweets ready now, to save time afterwards-

Aman's fidgety mind was caught mid-sentence as the silver bell at the door, not often used because the Inn was so rarely closed, pealed out clearly through the ground and first floor. The Innkeeper heard Hawthorne run for it and closed her eyes, steadying herself for a second, before opening them, a smile spreading onto her face. Think, Amanaduial - how many times have you really messed up at the Green Dragon?

With that reassuring thought in mind, the Innkeeper opened the kitchen door and swept majestically into the Common Room as the visitors entered, flowing around the small figure of Hawthorne, who, Aman could now see, was just parting from an embrace with another hobbit...

"Master Meriadoc!" she exclaimed, delightedly as he turned. Forging forward through the generally mid-torso high crowd, Aman then knelt down in front of the hobbit so as to be on his level, shaking his hand warmly. "Welcome to the Dragon, Master Brandybuck."

"Master Brandybuck? Goodness me, Aman, how distant - it's still Merry, as it ever was," came the pleasant reply accompanied by the mischievous twinkling of his bright eyes as he added, "Unless I am to call you 'Miss Amanaduial'?"

"It is Aman, as it ever was, Mast- Merry," Aman replied, smiling back, then straightened up. "Welcome again - I'm glad to have you here. I must greet the first influx of guests at least, but I hope we shall talk later?"

"Aye, Aman, I hope so," Merry agreed then, nodding politely, he turned back to Hawthorne as Aman made her way to the door, shaking hands and exchanging smiles, comments and compliments with the newcomers, human, elven and halfling. Through the elegant new door, the sun could be seen hanging nearly halfway between it's peak and the horizon - midafternoon, and as the party began, Vinca, Zimzi and Derufin drew ever nearer...