[Amanaduial the archer]

"Pipe weed?" Aman replied, skeptically. She wasn't sure that this hobbit wasn't still bluffing. But he glanced around, and for a moment, the Innkeeper thought she saw some sort of truth there, or he was a better actor even than most of the customers who had tried to blag a stay.

She nodded once, smiling slightly. "Lets see a sample of what you have then. Good pipeweed never goes amiss in the Green Dragon Inn."

As the hobbit fumbled in his pockets, standing straighter now to allow him to do so, Aman glanced at him, taking him in briefly. She liked to have a face to talk to; it was easier to trust than the back f a head. As the hobbit was preoccupied, she turned to the man who had sat down on a stool a moment ago, patiently waiting his turn (a rare and welcomed pheomenum), and smiled warmly at him, her eyes absorbing him quickly. A soldier by his bearing and clothes and, if she wasn't very much mistaken, that was the crest of Gondor he wore on his clothes. He also looked almost dead on his feet.

"Good evening, sir, would you be wanting something to eat or drink or, as I suspect, a meal?" The Rohirrim Innkeeper grinned at him, tipping her head slightly to one side as she asked the question. Talk of Rohan could wait; this man looked ready to drop.