[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman turned with a smile to the young woman who hailed her, putting off her visit to Cook at her request. She looked to be from Mirkwood, judging by her green clothes, rather fine by the look of the material and the way they were edged with silver, and her light ash-blonde hair, although her blue eyes looked more fitting to Imladris or Lorien. With embarrassment, Aman remembered the woman’s offer to help around the Inn - an offer made when Aman had been feeling a little distracted by a certain someone’s company – and Aman had not got back to her before she left for Bree. To give her a good room without delay would be the least Aman could do. Beckoning the woman, she stepped behind the bar, pulling out the log, and handed it to Lira, who smiled both courteously and warmly, and Aman felt her liking of this woman grow. But behind that smile, in her bright eyes, the Innkeeper noticed a deep sorrow which she had not previously seen. She couldn’t help wondering what it was that would linger so painfully in the woman’s eyes, why such pain should be in one so young – she stopped the thought, feeling foolish. She was elven – who know how long she had lived? Although she retained the looks of one the same age as Aman, give or take a few years, she could have lived Aman’s life a thousand times. The Innkeeper promised herself as she handed the key to Lira and showed her to where he room was, that she would talk to the elf tonight, or, if she did not come down for a drink, then tomorrow. And she would see what she could do about her offer as well, she added with a smile – its ridiculous, they spent weeks with very few staff, then suddenly Vanwe, Beren, and now Lira come along at once!

Making her way back down the stairs, Aman went into the kitchen, where Cook was just getting the stew ready to serve.

“Evening, Cook.” Aman smiled warmly at the hobbit as she spoke, making her jump around. The hobbit looked ready to scold, but smiled when she saw it was indeed Aman.

“Ah, Aman – did you resolve the matter of the wine with that old fool Butterbur?” Although Cook called him such, she didn’t speak scornfully – Vinca had known Barliman Butterbur for years, and they had a sort of fondness for each other that only those who have known each other for most of their lives can have. Although she herself called him an old fool and such, she would tsk and rebuke anyone else who tried to insult him.

The Innkeeper nodded, grinning as she leaned against the stove. “Aye, he was so sheepish about forgetting the meeting that he offered me several of his most select wines, hand picked by myself, for a cheaper price.”

Cook chuckled, shaking her head. “A gentleman, Butterbur, even if he is a daft fool who would forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on straight.”

Aman smiled, before continuing. “I got twenty bottles of red, and fifteen of white, ranging from last year, to some of the fine old vintage from…” she tried to remembered exactly, “twenty five years back, I think it was?”

“A good year,” Cook interjected.

“Indeed. We also have quite a few down there, but it could take some time to sort out - ” Aman stopped, suddenly realising where she could take up Lira on her offer. She paused, then spoke more slowly. “Actually, I may need some help in that quarter – it would take me weeks to do it myself, but with the help of someone else…”

“Ask Beren – I’m sure he would be glad to oblige you.” Aman ignored Cook’s snort of laughter that came after this.

“He will be busy with the garden. Didn’t you mention there were several new varieties you wanted putting in?”

“Derufin, or Vanwe?”

“I believe they’ll need to be preparing the stables for the party,” Aman replied firmly. “There will be far more horses coming in than usual. When is that, by the way?”

“Derufin received word from Miz Pio – two weeks from yesterday.”

“Then I will definitely be needing some help,” Aman’s voice was even firmer than before. “And no doubt you will need some help waitressing – didn’t Buttercup mention that she was going to see her mother in a few days, and that she would be gone for the same?”

Cook started to nod, then turned, eyes narrowed. “What are you planning, Miz Aman?”

Aman grinned, twiddling with a spoon by the side of the stove, and explained about Lira, then waited to see what Cook would think.