The Green Dragon Inn - Part 6

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman's attention was caught suddenly by a flash of something outside the window. A small face it looked like, she could have sworn it...but it had only been there for a second, then had vanished. Maybe it was just the stress getting to me, the Innkeeper was telling herself when - no, there it is again! Definitely a face!

The Innkeeper politely excused herself, leaving Pio still rather overwhelmed by the group around her, then marched briskly across the room, where she peered into the sky outside, as if simply looking for any rainclouds. And sure enough, a muffled yelp of surprise and a quiet scuffling told her the face had indeed belonged to someone. Looking down sharply, she missed the person's face, but by the size and build, it was a hobbit child. And what a state he was in...

The brief glimpse was snatched of the boy before he turned a corner around the side of the Inn. The Innkeeper smiled to herself; she could head him off at the kitchen door. Grinning, she half ran, in a dignified fashion, of course, towards the kitchen, pushed the door open quickly to cross the warm, cosy room, where Cook's baffled gaze followed her, to the door outside, where she paused, ear against the door.

Cook was looking at her like she was mad. "Aman, my dear, may I ask-"

Frantic flapping movements halted to old hobbit, and she stopped, surprised and curious despite herself as to why Aman was being so quiet, stealthy, and crazy looking. But the Innkeeper had a fair idea of who this intruder was...keeping her ear against the door, she was soon rewarded by the sound of scared, shallow breathing and scuffling footsteps. Closer, closer...Aman flung open to door suddenly, one hand shooting out to grab the creeping figure by the scruff of the neck.

"Ah ha!" She cried, then all of a sudden felt very foolish. But in her grasp, sure enough, wriggled exactly who she had thought would be there - the small 'horse-thief' who had been with Rosie Brandybuck, the little ill hobbit, several weeks ago. he squirmed and shook wildly to escape, but when Aman simply put him down, he seemed to stop purely out of surprise, before he backed up against the wall as hard as he could and excuses gushed out of his mouth, his eyes wide and scared.

"I wasn't doing anything, mistress, not to say you might think I was, and not that I have a guilty con-shi-unce, or anything, but I needed somewhere to stop, and I'm not a thief, or a kidnapper, or-"

Aman pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did young hobbits have such a capacity for speech? She now directed her flapping hand movements to the boy, but more slowly, and accompanied by 'shhh'-ing noises, as if calming a scared colt. The poor boy looked half starved now she looked at him closely, and his ragged garments couldn't cover the scraped knees and bony elbows. Whats more, he was soaked through - obviously the poor little mite had been caught in the rain.

She took a long look at him, then beckoned him inside through another door, so Cook and the rest wouldn't see him in such a state. "You'd best come in..."

"Aietman." The name came out in a sigh of relief. "My name's Aietman."