[Amanaduial the archer]

“I am called Eodwine, of Rohan. You also are from Rohan?” The man enquired, bobbing his head courteously to Aman. She returned his smile and opened her mouth to reply before another nabbed her attention, a young woman, dressed mainly in buckskin and wearing over her clothes a grey riding cloak, who Aman had not seen when she entered, and asked for a meal. Aman searched the room quickly before catching the eye of Buttercup, one of the two hobbit waitresses, who had just emerged from the kitchen, and beckoned her over.

“Would you serve this customer please?” The pretty little hobbit nodded politely, if a little reluctantly, and found the woman a table, seating her and asking her what she would like to eat and drink. Once they had departed, Aman turned back to Eodwine, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Well met, sir well met. I am indeed from Rohan,” she replied. Eodwine nodded, then looked around, with an air of slight confusion, although he was too polite to ask. Aman grinned. “New Rivendell might start to sum it up, with a human Innkeeper!” She laughed, and Eodwine smiled back slightly bashfully, nodding. “Well, ‘twas my first impression, aye! And what is’t that you are doing here? Not to be impolite of course, madam.”

“Aman, not madam.” The lilt in Eodwine’s voice reminded her comfortingly of her home, and she knew hers would be coming out more strongly- from the time spent here already, she had almost felt she was beginning to speak like the hobbits! “I am Innkeeper here- it seems to run that the Innkeeper is not entirely fitting to the background we have here. I am looking after the Dragon in the absence of Piosenniel, an old friend. You have met an acquaintance of hers, I believe- Birdland?”

Eodwine’s smile widened. “Birdland, you say? Aye, we have met, and I believe that without me she would be in more than a little trouble with the Rohirrim.” He lowered his voice, still grinning wickedly at Aman’s puzzled expression, his eyes creasing. “You know of Bird’s, how shall we say, card playing skills?”

Aman laughed. “Oh, aye? Well, ‘twas well you did so too- she has another friend staying here, a certain hobbit, Cami Brandybuck,” Her thoughts returned to the Inn and she snapped her fingers, remembering what Eodwine had asked for. “Oh, silly of me! Ale, am I right?”

“The darkest you have.” He confirmed, and Aman bustled over to the bar, with Eodwine following, still looking around the Inn in almost wonder. Pushing Eodwine’s ale across the bar, she smiled at his expression. “Not your regular Shire Inn, is it? Anyway, what is’t that you are doing here? Not meaning to be rude, of course. You are a messenger, are you not?”