[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman took the scroll from the oily, pompous hobbit and unfolded the perfumed parchment carefully, her eyes narrowing as she did so. As soon as she read the first line, her heart skipped a beat.

One Tobias Hornblower, Hobbit man of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, formerly a respectable figure, is now to be regarded as a criminal...
Tobias Hornbloer...a criminal...

Aman's eyes flitted down the page as another word caught her eyes, scanning briefly the text, until she came to the acts commited - acts so vile that they would merit death in any part of the United Kingdom under Elessar's rule. The Innkeeper looked over the parchment at Fescue, finding it suddenly a little hard to breathe. The hobbit seemed unsure of what to do and tentatively laid a hand on her arm. She could feel Snaveling's complete stillness behind her, his head still near hers as he read the parchment. She did not need the elvish bond of mind-sharing to know what he was thinking.

"Amanaduial, are you quite well?"

Aman forced herself to calm down as her mind spun quickly. She regained her composure and sat down carefully in a chair pulled out by one of the other two hobbits. "Yes...yes, thank you, Mr. Bracegirdle. I...well, to know that an individual of such a criminal calibre was loose around the Shire..." she fanned herself with a hand, and gave into temptation as she shot a look of panic at Snaveling.

Surprisingly, Spurge, slow-witted as he may have been, picked up on this. He cleared his throat officiously and leant forward towards Aman, his face now at her level. "Do you...know of this individual, Miss Amanaduial?"

The rememberance of ten gold coins burned in Aman's mind, and her heart nearly stopped but she didn't show it, shaking her head slowly, thoughtfully, opening her eyes wide. "Well, with so many folk flowing through our establishment every day, folks of all sorts, I can't say I recognise the name...Hornblower, you say? Well, to be sure, it is a fine and respectable family name, there are several Hornblowers who have graced the Green Dragon..."

Fescue chest swelled out as he drew himself up to his full, if rather diminiutive height, and shook his head regretfully, his little stick of office clutched pompously by his side. "A fine name indeed, a fine name indeed - to have one so vile drag it through the mud in such a way."

"Are you quite sure this fellow is indeed the perpetrator?"

Snaveling's voice was soft and impassive as he asked the question, but there was something unnerving in it that two of the hobbits picked up. Fescue, though, was determined not to be at all intimidated, and indeed Snaveling's dark face was utterly emotionless, displaying only mild interest - even if his eyes flashed a different message. The hobbit officer-in-law turned to the man and indignantly indicated the scroll in Aman's limp hand. "The Thain himself sent a decree, sir - that which stands for all the authority in the Shire!"

Aman nodded slowly again. "I see...I just...well, I don't understand how such a criminal can have got so out of hand! I do think I recognise the name...short, fellow, dark hair, shifty mannerisms?" Fescue didn't appear to notice that Aman had simply used the description entailed in the scroll and nodded eagerly. All three hobbits leant forward in anticipation.

"Aye, I remember - but he hasn't been here for a good six months at least!"

The trio fell back, disappointed. Aman sighed regretfully. "Sorry not to be able to help, there, but I don't suppose he would be coming back here any time soon - I refused repeatedly to buy some pipe-weed from him and he stormed out in a most...stormy mood," she concluded, uninspirationally. She gave a dramatic, mock-shudder. "Oh, to think he was here, under my very roof-!"

Fescue made to lay his hand on her shoulder but a thankful but sharp glance from the Innkeeper made him withdraw his paw carefully. He cleared his throat, but Aman spoke first, determination set on her features. "Such individuals cannot be allowed to run amock around the Shire - murderers, traitors and the like will never enter this most respectable establishment, of that you have my word! Not while such fine gentlefolk as you are around, I'm sure..." Fescue blushed at the compliments and he and his assosiated shuffled their feet nervously. Aman rose briskly and turned to Snaveling openly.

"Master Snaveling, would you be so kind as to fetch the stablemaster, Mister Longfellow? You know, the old hobbit chap standing in for Meriadoc..." Snaveling nodded in recognition, his face straight as he understood her meaning. "I need to speak to him about this matter, in my study as soon as possible - imagine if he was to get into our stables, and cause chaos among the horses! Let Cook know as well."

Find Toby quickly. Bring him to my study. Cook is to know of the gentlehobbit's plight and is not on any circumstances to give him away.

Snaveling nodded once and slipped away like a shadow. Fescue watched his back nervously, then turned back to Aman, giving her a small bow that he no-doubt thought suave and elegant. "You are a fine keeper of this Inn, no doubt about that!"

Aman nodded and straightened her skirt, her fluster not entirely acted. Straightening her hair out of habit, she motioned towards one of the corner tables: it was set near the fire but in a slight enclave of it's own, a cosy, isolated corner included by Regin Hardhammer, the dwarf in charge of restoration when the Inn was half burnt down. She was now doubly glad for Regin's thoughtfullness, even if the dwarf himself could not have foreseen the circumstances: although the corner, which seemed rather grander with it's warmth, isolation and large side window, afforded the best view of all newcomers to the Inn through the front door, it was also set slightly into the wall so that the kitchen could not be seen without leaning around and deliberately looking for it, and the entrance to Aman's study was pretty much completely out of the sightline. If Tobias was to come in through the kitchen door and slip into Aman's office quickly along that side wall behind the bar, the chances of him being seen, although existant, were very slim.

Aman set a smile on her face and led the hobbit's to their table calmly. "Will you take some food, gentlemen? You must be tired after all that riding..."