[Amanaduial the archer]

Balancing the tray on her hip, Aman knocked on Bredan's door, then shifted into a more comfortable position again, holding the tray with both hands. The evening meal she held on the tray smelled delicious - the Inn's shire-famous meat and vegetable stew, with a hunk of crusty bread beside it, made earlier by Buttercup. Aman had only just managed to scrounge a decent sized piece of bread before the two hobbit servers lavished the whole lot on the little boy, Jack, who Ruby especially seemed to have taken a shine to. Aman breathed in the fine, homely scent of the stew - she could probably snatch some quickly downstairs in a quick five minutes. She hoped so anyway - otherwise she would have to wait until far later that night.

Knocking once more on the door, as it seemed Bredan hadn't heard (and the room was terribly quiet), Aman mused on what the man wanted to speak to her about. She was slightly bemused and a little embarassed at the way he had first proposed his affections and she had then reacted in a horribly sissy way, by getting flustered and beating a hasty departure. What was she, some fine lady of society in High Minas Tirith?! She wondered anxiously whether Bredan was still angry - he had seemed fairly murderous when Snaveling had come to speak to her, and Aman had thought he would chop off the man's hand when he touched her wrist.

Still, Snaveling was gone now, so there would be no aggravation from that direction, Aman thought in a business-like fashion. Turning, the tray once more precariously balanced, the Innkeeper tapped lightly on the door once more, her head close to the wood and called quietly, "Mister Bredan?"