[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman simply stared at Bredan for a second, her mouth open - this can't have been very attractive, but the Gondorian didn't actually seem put off.

"So, my lady, what do you think?" he inquired again. Now, reasoned the Innkeeper inwardly. We already know his is not drunk, and he seems quite sane...can it be possible that he is serious? Good gods, Aman, every race in Middle Earth seems to pass through your Inn and a Gondorian announces out of the blue that it is not some fair immortal or mysterious Easterling he fancies for himself, but you!

"Bredan, I am..." she trailed off. Frankly, she hadn't really had a clue what she was going to say in the first place. Maybe a metaphorical phrasing would be better? "There is someone who-"

"There is someone, then," Bredan murmured softly. Aman's eyebrows shot up. "What? Well, not-"

"Aman.”

A soft voice and the touch of warmth on her hand made Aman turn her head to see Snaveling. A chord of irony struck inside her to see his face... Apparently oblivious to the Innkeeper's dilemma, he took her hand, looking into her eyes about to speak...then he paused, glancing at Bredan. Someone who had spent no time in the company of sentient beings and knew nothing of emotion could have detected the hostility practically pouring from the Gondorian in waves. Snaveling paused, then turned back to Aman. "I'm sorry Aman, but I have something that I must speak to you about. Could we step into your study for a moment?" Another glance at Bredan and he added, "Alone?"

And in a split second, several things flew through Aman's head.

One, she realised the reason for Bredan's suspicious glance around after he had spoken.

Two, the complete surprise that he had suspected that.

Three, with the look currently starting to brew on Bredan's face and the way his fingers were beginning to curl, it was highly likely that in a few seconds Snaveling was about to be punched.

"Of course, sir, come with me please," she gushed quickly, careful to stress the formality rather than using his name. However, Bredan was not fooled.

"Luckiest man in the world..." he growled menacingly. Aman paled and Snaveling, his humour ever dark, actually raised an eyebrow. Bredan rose quickly at this, knocking the bar stool from beneath him. Aman returned Snaveling's grip on her hand and pulled him away towards her study, apologising with utmost haste over her shoulder to Bredan as she marched away.

Aman didn't look back until they had entered the study. Closing the door, she let go of Snaveling's hand and collapsed into one of the two soft chairs by the fire, her head in her hands. The man seemed worried. "Are you alright, Aman?" she heard him ask conceredly from somewhere above. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and blew out her cheeks, looking up at him.

"Hmm. I'm afraid someone has just declared undying love to me, which is..." she sought the right word. "...inconvenient." It wasn't the word she had been looking for, but it would have to do. At the look of surprise on Snaveling's face, the Rohirrim Innkeeper grinned briefly. "Indeed." She paused, looking him up and down now that she had time to do so as he lowered himself in a more dignified fashion into the other chair. Aman had been too busy the night before to take much note of Snaveling's change other than the plain fact that it had very certainly happened, but now she began to realise the extent to which he was...transformed. His previously sallow face now seemed dark and smooth, the proud bone structure noble, framed with what was evidently hair that had been washed for the first time in a while. And that suit... the like was rarely seen passing through Bree casually, and yet it was not showy - it was quietly elegant, the suit of a refined gentleman. And that...talisman...that glistened over it...

"Snaveling, that is really a remarkably fine look for you," she commented suddenly, then sat forward and motioned to the decanter on the table beside them. "Wine?"