[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman couldn't help smiling slightly at the grounded nature of the dwarf, despite the seriousness of the situation. She nodded slowly. "I thank you for you offer of help, Mister Hardhammer. And...did you mention Balin as being your grandfather?"

Regin nodded proudly, confirming this. Aman nodded again, as if to herself and looked back at Hawthorne. "You are right, master dwarf - she would not last a night in the cells. And I see no reason to disbelieve you; I very much doubt Miss Brandybuck here started the fire." She nodded stiffly at Hawthorne, then that slight smile returned. "And what can we say - she's a Brandybuck!"

Hawthorne looked almightily relieved, but still slightly abashed. "Pardon me, Miz Aman, but as far as I know, Uncle Merry never set fire to an Inn." Her smiled faded slightly and her worried look intensified slightly. "He's going to be furious with me..."

Aman shook her head. "Don't worry, the blame won't rest entirely on you when it comes to the ears of the Master of Buckland. I didn't say anything to Buttercup about telling him - but I will need his help to reconstruct the Inn."

Hawthorne looked almightily relieved, but Fredgar and Regin standing by didn't. The Shirrif shuffled slightly, fiddling with his handcuffs. "Beggin' yer pardon, Miz Aman, but...she does need to be punished. It's the Shire law, 'see."

Aman regarded him wearily for a second, then uncrossed her arms, running one hand through her hair. "Oh, Shirrif...look, what say we discuss this over a nice bowl of soup and some coffee, hmm? You too, Mr Hardhammer - from this account, 'sounds like you have been in this from the beginning, something which I can only be thankful for. I would be delighted if you would join us. Oh, well, after the horses have been put out, anyway."