[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman opened her mouth to reply, when a resounding crash of breaking glass made her half duck, memories of windows smashed with lungs of fire making her eyes wide and scared. Running back into the main part of the Common Room, she looked around to see several other party goers as shocked as herself, at least two of them Gondorian, and a look of understanding passed between Aman and Crystal. But in those first moments, Aman realised two things. First, that the crash must have been from the cellar, for at that volume it must have been on the ground floor and there was no sign in the Common Room.

Secondly, that Snaveling was no longer at the bar.

Darting quickly to the cellar steps, Aman lifted her skirts slightly and descended hastily. A few metres from the bottom steps there lay a small, upturned table...and the fragmented, broken remains of half a dozen fine bottles of red wine, brought by Master Merry and ready to be served later. Aman stepped carefully over the crimson fingers of wine that reached from the shattered pile, her knuckles white as they gripped her skirt. She knew, of course, who had done it: Snaveling.

Spiteful drow of a man! she thought furiously, her jaw tightening as several choice curses flew into her head. Spiteful, darksome, acrimonious, immoral, nefarious little...

"Mistress Innkeeper, what on earth has happened?" A shocked hobbit boy's voice disturbed the Innkeeper midflow.

The furious Rohirrim woman looked up slowly at him, years of warrior breeding burning in her green eyes as her nails dug into her palms, although she barely noticed, and none but the closest of the spectators gathered at the door could see the effect of her anger in the gloom. And very slowly, she smiled, a chilly, careful smile. When she spoke, her voice was perfectly pleasant, even and calm.

"Please could I ask you all to look out for a certain individual on the premises - a man, of dark countenance, secretive looking maybe. Possibly he may be in the company of a hobbit, Tobias Hornblower, although Tobias and myself have no quarrel. The man's name is...Snaveling." The last word was disdainful: if Snaveling wished to be treated so, he would get what he wished for.

"Why is it that you need to find him, Aman?" an old hobbit woman asked, inquisitive and thirsty for gossip. Aman looked at her, bright-eyed. So Snaveling had chosen to quarrel with the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon Inn...at her feet, the wine lapped just below her skirt.

"I think myself and master Snaveling need to talk," she replied.