[Amanaduial the archer]

Hearing the clattering from upstairs where she had been doing the books, Aman looked up, irritated by the distraction, but not overly so: doing the accounts and paperwork of the Green Dragon was a task she had been avoiding for the past month, and of course this had only served to make it even larger and more arduous then it already was. And dull. Don't forget dull. There are some minds in the world of Middle Earth, as there are in any world, to which the sight of numbers lining up perfectly, fitting in and slotting together by some magic that is called numerical logic, would be almost exciting. Mind to whom accounts could even be considered, well...satisfying.

The Innkeeper was certainly not possessed of such a mind.

Aman's desk was positioned by the window, allowing her the beautiful rural views across the Shire that her room afforded, and the healthy country breeze that stopped her from going entirely mad when locked in a room with only paperwork for company - after all, such a roommate did make for a rather dubious companion - but because of the shape of the Inn's sloping roof, she could not quite see the path that ran in front of the Inn while she was seated. So when she heard the disturbance growing outside, and the sound of people flocking together at the slightest hint of excitement, as they are apt to do on a sleepy day in such rural setting when there is nothing else immediately pressing on their time - after all, in such a setting, when is there ever really such a press on one's time? - she rose from her seat, curious. Pushing open the window and leaning out of it so as to have a clear view of the path, Aman was just in time to see the diminuitive figure of a really quite exceptionally diminuitive figure leap onto the back of a cart and begin his bold annoucement.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the little hobbit began, with so pompous and authorative an air that Aman found herself smiling but attentive. "I am Fordogrim Chubb of Gamwich and these are my cousins Fatty and Gerdy Chubb. We are brewers of the finest ales and beers, stouts and bitters in all the Westfarthing and we have come to these parts to demonstrate that our brews are worthy of your patronage. So for Today Only" - the capitals on the words were so clearly audible that Aman knew that what was about to follow would be very good or... "Three of our best beers, Old Stout, Mellow Ale and – my particular favourite – Gamwich Gold will be yours absolutely free of charge! And when you find that these are the best beers as you’ve ever had, I hope that you’ll feel like telling your friends of Fordogrim Chubb, Brewer!"

...or not so very good. Aman's eyebrows shot up and she almost fell out of the window. Free ale? Outside her Inn? Now Aman was not by nature a mean-spirited woman, far from it, and often she disagreed with Cook on her kind-heartedness of giving free meals to half the waifs and strays in Bywater...but there was a line, and when such a fellow decided to give free beers out to every potential customer in Bywater...well, frankly, the line was so far that the line was now a dot.

"What the..." she breathed. "Excuse me, you sir, Mister Chubb!"

The little hobbit spun around to face the Innkeeper with the unflappable finesse and showmanship of a ringmaster. "Yes, ma'am, the lady on the roof?" - a fair enough judgement, Aman supposed, bearing in mind that she was almost hanging onto the roof at this point. Raising one eyebrow sardonically, she replied, "Sir, this is my Inn - would you not have cared to mention such an offer to me first?"

For the first time, Fordogrim Chubb looked slightly sheepish - and it was only ever-so-slightly, enough maybe to be mistaken for a passing sneeze of a change of the wind, but nevertheless - before he replied. "Ah," he said, grinning ruefully. "I was wondering whether we would come to that." Building himself up again, the hobbit's diminuitive frame seemed to once more swell visibly. "But dear lady, you would surely not deny your thirsty customers the chance of some free - and, if I may say so, quite splendid - refreshments?"

The little hobbit's cockiness drew a few laughs from the watching audience, and even Aman smiled a little. "Mister Chubb, there is a line for these things, a line beyond which things may become quite tricky." She paused for effect - showmanship, after all, is rather contagious at time - before adding, "Mister Chubb, the line...the line is a dot."

The comment, however enigmatic, drew another laugh from the audience, and even Mr. Chubb smiled a little, a small acknowledgement of the Innkeeper's point. Aman rolled her eyes and made a show of giving a great sigh before she retreated from the window and headed for the Common Room, where she and Mr. Chubb could talk more easily. She had, really, no strong feelings about his giving away free ale - so long as it was as good as he professed, for the 'Dragon had a reputation to live up to - but it was generally agreed, or so she had been led to believe, that doing business from a rooftop was not quite conventional, and to be frowned upon in many circles of society.

Not, of course, that the Innkeeper cared much for circles of society, of that they even particularly crossed her mind at this stage. But, as it has previously said, a month's worth of accumulated paperwork really can be very dull.