[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman frowned after Vanwe. The elf was hiding something, of that she was almost certain, but she could think of no way of getting out of her what it was. She had tried to be frank, and that had certainly worked in its way- that slip, that small moment when Vanwe had let her mask fall, startled, had proved Aman's fears that Vanwe was indeed involved in something.

"Business, hmm?" She muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes and watching Silvanis suspiciously. Her attention was jolted however, by a small, polite sound of someone clearing their throat. Aman snapped back from her musings, and smiled at the young woman, straightening up from where she had been leaning on the bar.

"I beg your pardon, I was miles away," Aman smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

"Any type of food you have." The young woman replied, smiling nervously.

"Well, Cook will be serving up dinner in a short while- she generally serves it in about an hour and a half, or two hours, from now. I can get you something small though- sandwiches?"

"Yes, please." The woman replied. She held out a hand, still polite, but also still nervous. "My name is Arayulmaiel."

"Pleased to meet you. Buttercup will see to your order immediately," Aman smiled sweetly at the hobbit waitress, who had been trying to sneak past without being noticed. At the sound of her name, she froze, and as Aman finished, she shot her a rather exasperated look, switching quickly to a smile as Arayulmaiel turned, then went to sit in a booth. As Buttercup went to the kitchen, she glanced darkly at Aman again. The Innkeeper stuck her tongue out, still grinning, and Buttercup rolled her eyes, but returned the grin. Aman watched the hobbit as she went- she had become good friends with Buttercup recently, and the hobbit had returned the feeling- wasn't it her who had faithfully saved Aman from 'The Mob' of Mathom hunters?

"Could we get another two ales please, Aman?"

Aman didn't let her smile fade as Silvanis asked, but her suspicion returned as she remembered him. Smiling, she nodded, and pulled two pints, which he came to retrieve. With a charming smile, he returned to his table, and Aman saw him lean forward and begin his story. Her eyes narrowed again, but she said nothing. Rememberin the wines she had meant to check up on, she hastily fumbled with her keys until she found the right one, and slipped it into the lock of the cellar door.

Sighing happily, the Innkeeper made her way down the stone stairs and into the cellar, quiet and cool away from the busy, hot bustle of the Inn. She took a moment to just stand at the bottom of the stairs, eyes closed, revelling the cool air, slightly fragrant with the perfume of the wines that had long rested in it. Hearing a slight rustle, she opened her eyes sharply to see...

no one!

But she had sworn she had heard the rustle of clothing and a few steps. Maybe it had been the dripping of a wine tap...yes, that must be it...

But Aman knew it hadn't been. The cellar suddenly seemed eerie rather than simply quiet, and the Innkeeper forced herself into her business mode, and walked swiftly down the rows of barrels, reading the labels, some wooden, some metal (for the older or more regular beverages), some simply quickly scrawled notes on slips of paper, some more neatly written, in a hand she recognised as Pio's, but all covered in dust, even the wine that Lespheria had brought not so long ago. Aman inspected the fine wines. It did not take long. She had thought she might need a pen and paper, but the amount and variety of wine was rather devastatingly low. Well, she would be able to send someone off to Butterbur tonight, hadn't she heard some of them talking? That way she would get the reply tomo-

Aman whirled around, hands gripping the heavy bunch of keys as a weapon so that some of the jagged pieces of metal dug into her slim fingers and her palm. She could have sworn she had heard a snigger! She must be going mad...the cellar seemed too big and empty suddenly, and she knew it was virtually sound proof...no one would hear...

Aman started walking briskly towards the stairs. Once again, she thought she heard footsteps, and the brisk walk became faster. She took the stairs two at a time in the end, rushing up. When she reached the top, Aman had been about to close the door behind her quickly, but stopped. She peered into the relative gloom of the cellar. Nothing stirred. Aman could not believe she had been so daft- she had actually imagined things! There was nothing there, it had been silly of her.

Smiling to herself and shaking her head, Aman took out a pen from one of the voluminous pockets in her dress and a piece of parchment from the small pile she kept under her personal noticeboard, and began to write Butterbur a note about the wines, bearing in mind the funds from the sale. She had seen some sort of juice extractor down in the cellar, even in her panic, a big one, attached to a barrel. And it had had all sorts of interesting instruments around it...The children would need drinks as well, at the party, and just milk would simply not suffice. Hobbit lasses and lads would be delighted with some ginger beer- she had seen some earlier- and....strawberry fizz? She had seen some made by one of the stable boys when he visited Rohan, and had no doubt Cook would think something of the idea, as well as probably being able to draft in some help from Ruby's mother- that woman was a devil for recipes. And Aman could experiment, along with all that...

As the Innkeeper occupied herself with these thoughts, the door of the cellar swung slowly wider open. And there were indeed some little ones in the Inn- and even some rather bigger ones- who were eyeing it mischievously. While the cat's away/ busy writing notes, the mice can slip into the cellar...

Down in the quiet of the cellar, someone did indeed move...