[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman's smile creased her eyes as the man replied in Rohirric. She didn't speak the language much, even to the Rohirrim customers; the hobbits obviously didn't understand it (why would they? What need would they have to learn Rohirric of all things, really?), and the Innkeeper tried not to exclude others in cliques - she was just about accepted by even most of the older hobbits who were more set in their ways. But still, the fact that he had recognised her as one of the Rohirrim and used the her own language gave her a sort of absurd happiness.

"As you wish," she replied in the same tongue, still smiling, and retrieved the log book from under the desk. "Your name here please, along with a signature if you have one, the number of nights here - this can, of course, he altered - and your homeland, if you so wish." She shrugged. "It's mainly for interest's sake."

She pushed the thick, leather-bond book across the bar to him along with a pen from her pocket. As he began to write, she caught sight properly of the little pouches on the bar and fingered them idly, looking around for where on earth that hobbit had got to...