[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman nodded at the woman, pushing the log book across the bar from where Grimm had left it - she hadn't put it away yet. "Of course - and they are plenty spacious, just in case you change your mind." She grinned amiably at the woman, who smiled cautiously back.

"Thankyou." Her voice was soft and smooth, as if it was wearing slippers. But those who wear slippers are often creeping around trying not to disturb; who was this one creeping from? Aman bridled her inquisitive mind and showed the woman where to sign. Pretty little thing she was, the Innleeper thought as the other leaned over to write in the book, but she did seem so terribly nervous. Not that you would know it to hear her; perfectly confident.

As the woman was filling in the entry, another approached the bar, rather different from the former, asking for "A mug of hot tear, if you please, Goodmistress. And a trencher of meat and bread, if you will."

Aman smiled at the old-fasioned term, surprised - she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Goody Aman...good grief! She smiled secretly to herself as she turned away to pour the steaming water into a small teapot to let it brew with some of 'Brandywine's Finest' teabags. As she turned back, the elderly man introduced himself congenially, then, as if remembering, added a request for a room.

Although the man did have a spritely spark in his eye, Aman could well understand his request for an extra quilt - she remembered how her grandmother, although she rode as well as any of the rest of her family in the Summer, suffered terribly from her old bones in the winter. "Fear not, sir, the mattresses at the Green Dragon are as soft as they come."

Turning to the woman, the Innkeeper pushed a key across the counter. "For when you're done," she added, by means of an explanation. "The room is just up that flight of stairs - turn left down the corridor and its the second one to your right. If you don't mind waiting, I'll show you to it once I've put forward this gentleman's order. And sir," she turned back to the man. "If you could just sign in there - hang on, I'll just pop back and ask Buttercup to sort your order. How does venison sound, and gravy too? I'm sure this young lady won't mind telling you where to sign."

Smiling encouragingly at the shy woman, and hoping she wasn't putting her on the spot unfavourably, Aman turned back to the kitchen to find it empty. Thinking about it, she distinctly remembered seeing Hawthorne resting her feet at the fire. Sighing, she went in herself and opened the lid of the metal pot which sat on the sideboard, containing the remains of the meat, with the potatoes and vegetables in another pot beside it, ready to be made into a stew tomorrow. Sure, Hawthorne hasn't been at all bad today - especially after what that letter from Merry and that visit from the Mayor and Dandelion suggested, she thought absently as she began to serve the meat, and some potatoes, into one of the dipped plates. It was warm still, but not hot. Leaving it on the thick metal plate slightly overhanging the fire - meant for the very purpose of heating smaller dishes of food, an ingenious invention of Cook - Aman re-entered the Common Room.

"That will just be a few moments, sir," she explained to the man, then clapped her hands and addressed the Common Room as one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as the evening draws in, the time for stories comes in with it! Please, feel free to come around the wide fire and listen to the stories from all over Middle Earth, even here in the Shire and, if you wish, tell some of your own!"

Smiling at the excited murmur that ensued, and more specifically catching the eye of an odd looking individual (if it was possible to describe one person spefically as being odd, here in the 'Dragon) who held a notebook and pen, sitting near Hawthorne. He seemed poised to write, but smiled absently at the Innkeeper as she caught his eye and allowed her eyes to flick to the notepad and pen. It seemed Hawthorne was about to begin the tale-telling - a Brandybuck through and through, to be sure, with all the boldness of her cousin Merry!

Turning back to the bar and filling in the key-numbers in the space on the entried, Aman then addressed the shy woman, who still hovered by the bar. "Would you like me to show you your room now, or later, miss...?" She left the space open for a name, should it wish to be given, not asking directly; secretive folk often passed through the 'Dragon, and this slipper-voiced woman might not be an exception.