[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman eyed the elven man, Ascasir, sidelong as she pulled out a pint for one of the bar customers. Flicking her eyes across to Ruby, who was giving the bar a cursory wipe down, she murmured, "Do you think he flirts with everyone, or is there some selective, generous process here?"

Ruby looked across surreptitiously to the elf where he appeared to be making advances on a slender, dark elven woman sitting with her back to the bar. The hobbit giggled and whispered back, "Jealous."

Aman's eyebrows shot up and she gave a short laugh, finishing off the pint. "Pardon me, Ruby Brown! What would I be jealous of? And not that it is a bad thing either - he flirts quite charmingly, if a little awkwardly." Turning to the customer, a young Breelander, she smiled warmly as she pushed the pint across to him. "Here you are, sir."

"Fli-irt..." Ruby replied in a singsong voice. The Innkeeper picked up the now stationary rag and flapped it at her, frowning exaggeratedly. "Don't you start!"

"Well, it's true!"
"It isn't, as you well know."
"No, it is as I very well know."
"Is."
"It isn't"
"It i-is..."

"Ruby, I refuse to get into this with you," the Innkeeper replied abruptly, rolling her eyes. Ruby regarded her for a second, then contented herself with raising her eyebrows and settling back with an infuriatingly smug expression on her round features. Aman stuck her tongue into her cheek and refused to be riled, grinning slightly. The Common Room door opened and a few cheers made Aman look up out of curiosity. Seeing who it was, she smiled widely and pulled another pint of ale with sudden speed, darting around the bar with her precarious load to the newcomer - Halfred Whitfoot, Shirrif and postman.

"Halfred! Or is it 'Shirrif Whitfoot' for today?"

"Ah, no, just plain ole' Halfred Whitfoot today, Aman," the round faced hobbit replied, panting slightly. Producing a worn pocket hankerchief he dabbed at his red forehead and gave a heavy sigh. "Well, the day is a beautiful one indeed...really builds up a man's thirst..."

Subtlety had never been a strong point of the rotund Shirrif and Aman laughed, handing him the pint of ale - always on the house, for it didn't do to offend to postie, or the Shirrif - and seating him at a nearby table. "There you go, Halfred. Dumpling is in the stables?"

"Of course - you have a new boy, I noticed...?"

"Aye, Merrimac - but hardly new! You should visit us more, Mr Whitfoot - you'll be left behind," she teased. The hobbit chuckled good naturedly and took a long draft of the pint, swallowing half of it at once. Aman hovered beside him, careful not to let her impatience show: Halfred had a habit of dancing around his actual reason for coming, and if you showed any impatience, he usually only dragged the task out more. But today, it seemed, he was in a less teasing mood, for as he put down the pint again he fumbled around and produced two letters from his bag. Squinting at them unsteadily, he looked around and replaced one, then took another long pull at his ale. Aman resisted the urge to fold her arms and raise her eyebrows, and was rewarded with the other letter. Smiling gratefully, she thanked Halfred and returned to the bar, pondering the letter's contents. Taking a small kitchen knife from the odd bits of cutlery under the bar, she slit the letter open tidily and scanned it's contents quickly.

Dearest Aman,

It has been long since we have spoken, hasn't it old friend? I would take time to catch up, but then, what is the point? The subject matter in letters are, after all, quite different from those to be broached face to face.

Aman smiled, recognising the tone of the letter rather than the quick handwriting, written with a light hand so it was quite hard to read on the dark, speckled parchment. Holding it up to the light a little more, she read on:

But no matter, for I think we may be able to meet up rather soon. Although I returned to Gondor those months back (and it has taken me a while to find you - how on earth did you end up in the Shire, my dear?!), my attention was drawn to something that may rather interest you. On the Great East Road (South of that pretty, secretive little backwater you currently reside in), there is to be another of the great markets.

But it is to be larger than usual, I am led to believe, and the goods even more worthy: the farriers are turning out well for it. Some groups of Southerners and Easterlings have moved further into the mainlands, and they have come up, along with groups of Gondorian and Rohirric horsebreeders. I know you have always had an interest in the strange, angular steeds of the Haradrim...

The market will last for a week, and by the time this reaches you, you may have missed some already. Come, Aman - it will be a pleasure to see you once more, although I do not doubt it will be the promises of so diverse a range of horses that will persuade you rather than simply me!

Truly,

Taydoch.

Taydoch... Aman had guessed at the very beginning. The Gondorian author of the letter had been a good friend of hers for several years back in Rohan, taking odd jobs here and there in Inns and shops, before eventually blowing up in the stables with Aman - having bluffed his way in, not actually knowing how to ride. The man was an oddity, a year or two younger than Aman herself - but he had been one of her dearest friends. After he had returned to Gondor, to some family crisis, a few months before Aman left for The Green Dragon, the pair had lost touch. It would be good to see him again.

But bearing in mind the speed of post...Aman grinned determindly and tightened her grip on the letter. Surely Cook wouldn't begrudge her a few days...

Briskly entering the kitchen, Aman found Cook standing by the great fire, stirring a large cauldron of fine smelling stew. Resolving to stay for lunch, the Innkeeper tapped Vinca on the shoulder and handed her the letter, giving a gabbled, eager explanation as the elderly hobbit read the letter over. Vinca took a moment's pause having finished the letter, then folded it very slowly and carefully. Taking off her glasses, she looked up at the Innkeeper - and nodded, smiling. Aman beamed back. "Oh, thankyou, Miss Bunce - I know I may be leaving you in the-"

"Oh, pish posh, I did the same when Zimzi and Derufin went with Pio. And after all, you said this will only be for a few days..."

Aman nodded firmly. "Aye, two, maybe three."

"And you will leave..."

"From the smell of that stew? Well, I shall be hanging around for lunch, that is certain!" The pair laughed and Vinca rolled her eyes as Aman darted back out and upstairs to pack what little she would be taking.

~*~*~

OCC: I will be leaving tomorrow morning on holiday, and will be without internet access for a week I am afraid (I will return late on the evening of Sunday 22nd). Apologies - have fun, and happy writing this week without me!