[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman shut the pen behind her as she led Rochfalmar in, murmuring soothingly to the horse. But she needn't have feared - Pio's old horse was as dauntless as the half-elf herself, and snickered reasurringly, nuzzling Aman's shoulder gently as the Innkeeper turned. Aman ran her hand down the horse's nose an neck, making small shushing noises as she did so and entwining her fingers in her hair. Around her, the other horses from the Inn were calming down, as if Rochfalmar's solid prescence was giving them some sort of calm as well - the silver mare was the last horse into the pen, although Aman had not had her out of the stables last. She would not have dreamed of letting her friend's horse get injured, despite the fact the flames were nowhere near the stables.

"We have lost the Inn, Aman." Cree's words came back to the Innkeeper and she frowned viciously - how dare she?! They had not lost the Inn, and for her to have pointed it out in a manner so unhelpful... her grip on Rochfalmar's hair tightened until the horse gave a small, gently reproachful whinny and she loosened her fingers from her hair with a start. Turning she looked back to the Inn, knowing she should get back quickly; the smoke was rising from the roof, but the flames were gone, and the damage was not as much as was feared; although the cellar had fallen in on itself at the top and one side of the Common Room had crumbled entirely, the rooms above had held, the solid wooden beams around the room scorched but holding firm. No one could ever criticise hobbit craftmanship. The smell of warm horse-flesh and the sounds of the horses and ponies moving gently around the Rohirrim Innkeeper calmed her and comforted her and her anger began to melt away. "We haven't lost it, have we, Rochfalmar?" she murmured gently to the horse who regarded her with an unnervingly intelligent gaze. The Innkeeper grinned cheekily as she added in a whisper. "At least, I bleedin' well hope not - can you think what Pio and Vinca would say to that?!"

The mare gave a layered whinny that sounded almost like a chuckle and tossed her head and Aman grinned, letting go. Rochfalmar was no ordinary horse, and she had made her feel better.

"Miss Aman, is that you?"

Aman turned, a slight frown coming back onto her face subconciously as she braced herself for all sorts of bad news, but instead she was greeted by the slightly anxious, plump face of the Shirrif of Hobbiton, who was twisting his hat in his hands. Although a smear of ash graced one cheekbone like a strange new make-up and her brown hair was awry, pulled out of its usual bun to fall a little messily over her shoulders, Aman's face lit up. "Shirrif Hornblower!" she exclaimed.

The hobbit grinned, replacing his hat on his head and beside him Tobias gave what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief. Aman knelt in front of them so as to be more on their level, shaking hands with Fredgar warmly. "Shirrif, thank you for coming, it is much appreciated."

Fredgar Hornblower nodded graciously, and a small frown crept onto his face. "I am sorry for the loss of your Inn, Miss Aman-"

"Loss?" Aman's tone was rathr sharp and sensed Tobias stiffening slightly. The hobbit was one of those who wasn't entirely at home with the Big Folk, and this one had a rather large mare looming behind her as well. "I don't think we have lost the Inn, Shirrif."

Fredgar looked a little uncomfortable and Aman held his gaze for a moment, then he smiled. Aman grinned back, straightening. "Nay, 'tisn't anything we can't deal with, I think!"