[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman, wiping the bar absent-mindedly as she looked out of the window, was drawn back into the Inn momentarily by the sound of dry coughing, followed by a deep throated, "Oh, I'm very sorry my dear!", the cheeky, "Good shot uncle, I couldn't have done it better myself!", and finally the sardonic, female voice saying, "Such a gentleman he is." She smiled at the trio of hobbits sitting together, two of them endeavouring to blow smoke rings apparently to the bemusement of the third, younger hobbit. Catching the hobbit lass's eye, Aman grinned and raised her eyebrows and was greeted with a return grin and a roll of the hobbit's bright eyes.

The light was fading outside the Inn, although the merriment went on inside the bustling Common Room, and Aman noticed a silhouette against the window, a shy, intimidated looking elf man, his blonde hair caught by the dying rays of sunlight over the hills in the far distance. But, even as Aman was starting out of the bar towards him, the elf looked up sharply and left the bar.

Unperturbed, the Innkeeper shrugged to herself and continued absent-mindedly wiping at mysterious, but nonetheless ancient and well-established stains on the bartop. The Rohirrim woman was content with looking around at the Inn for the moment - it's patrons were many and varied tonight. Brushing a wisp of silky brown hair back behind her ear, she rubbed a hand across her weary green eyes and let them settle on the hobbit trio, although she did not, of course, make it too obvious.

At the fireside, the stories went on, the crowd waxing and waning; as much as they are thirsty for tales, they are probably thirsty also for more drinks, Aman thought to herself and, tucking the cloth behind the bar, she started over to the fireside to offer around refreshments.