[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman made the announcement that supper was soon to be served and began taking orders from those around her who called for them, including a comfortable looking gentlehobbit nearby who smiled benignly around him happily. She grinned at the way he seemed generally happy with everything. Tobias was suddenly brought sharply to her mind, and she snapped her fingers at her forgetfulness. She needed to inquire as to what decision Tobias had come to and, more importantly of course for any in the Shire, what he would like for supper.

Making her way discreetly to the study, Aman slipped in through the unlocked door, the question of supper on her lips...before she stopped dead. It was empty. The Innkeeper stood with her mouth wide open in the study door, her hand frozen on the doorknob as she dumbly tried to comprehend exactly where Tobias and Snaveling had gone. She wrung her hands worriedly and desperately checked behind the door. Nope: they were definitely gone. "This is bad..." Aman murmured quietly to herself as she remembered what Snaveling had suggested: that he and Toby take flight from the Shire and from Toby's plight, flying South to the lands of Rohan or Gondor. If Toby had gone with this idea, had gone into self-inflicted exile from his own people...Aman closed her eyes and shot a quick prayer to whatever deities might be listening. Please let him not have taken up this foolish idea with Snaveling...

Closing the door, Aman glanced furtively around the Inn to where the Thain's men had gone back on their pledge and were steadily drinking toasts to just about everyone and everything in the immediate vicinity. She raised an eyebrow. It was unlikely, then, that the trio had noticed the man and the hobbit depart. But by the gods, they had done it quietly!

Trying to put these thoughts to the side, reasoning logically that she could not do anything about it now, Aman made her way into the kitchen as Derufin was leaving, conveying a handful of stew-covered bread to his mouth. As she passed, Aman leant forward and snatched the mouthful before it could reach the stablemaster's mouth, and he gave an indignant cry as Aman ducked past him into the kitchen, laughing and blowing him a meat-and-potato kiss as she door swung shut behind her. Finishing the mouthful hastily, Aman took out her notebook and began to relay the meals to Cook and Ruby. "The Inn is quite busy tonight, quite a fair amount of meals: there are-" She paused, stopping dead for the second time in as many minutes, as a distantly familiar smell assaulted her nostrils over the familiar cooking smells of the kitchen. She twisted in a slow pirouette towards the fireplace and jerked backwards slightly as she saw it's smug occupant. She raised an accusatory finger to point like a bringer of doom towards the mat in front of the fireplace where a cat sat purring smugly.

For a moment, she didn't speak, then she raised her eyebrows and said slowly, "Cook, are you aware that your cat appears to have gone back in time several years and...changed it's coat?"

Cook laughed, half in relief that Aman had not been more annoyed at the cat's appearance, and she turned back to serving out stew from the cast-iron, military-size cauldron. "Ah Miz Aman - no, this is a newcomer. You're all in for taking in waifs and strays, so I took in one of my own. And he seems to appreciate my cooking very well, unlike some," she added, winking conspiratorially at the cat.

"Miz Bunce, there is not man, hobbit, elf or any other manner of being within a hundred acres of the 'Dragon who does not appreciate you cooking." She paused and frowned, giving Cook a puzzled, questioning look. "And as for taking in waifs and strays, what is that supposed to mean?!"

Cook bustled busily, smiling to herself. "Oh well, you know how it is Aman...that nice elven boy some time ago; Snaveling, before he was all spruced up from the West-"

"On second thoughts, no, don't change the subject!" Aman interrupted indignantly, although she was half smiling. She looked back at the cat. "That is not your cat. Yet it is sitting on that rug as if it owns it and everything within a hundred miles of it. There is definitely a more than proportionate share of smugness around that feline..."

Ginger, who had just returned from the Common Room bearing a now empty tray, laughed at Aman's tone. "Oh come on, Aman, what have you got against that cat?" She stooped to scratch the cat's head as she passed, and it's purring increased to such a level of smugness that Aman half-expected it to produce a pipe and sit back comfortably, one paw against the mantlepiece. "Aren't you exaggerating a little?"

"I am not," Aman replied darkly, "a cat person."

There was a moment's pause, then all three of the servers burst out laughing before they went back to their tasks. Aman and the cat eyed each other warily, at a stalemate, before Cook sent Aman on her way laden with trenchers of mouth-wateringly delicious smelling stew. The Innkeeper glared at the cat grudgingly one last time. In reply, the feline simply gave a smile, settled back down on the rug and purred smugly once more. With a cry of exasperation and 'they'll take us over!', Aman swept once more into the Common Room in disgust.