[Amanaduial the archer]

"Then you begin to see the ways of the Shire, dear Zimzi." The group in the kitchen turned to see Aman leaning in her usual position against the doorway, wearing riding gear and holding a large, serious looking wooden box tucked under. Buttercup smiled and beckoned her in before turning back to the beautiful vase of lillies in front of her, plumping them up and arranging delicately the wide, snowy bells of their blooms.

Zimzi cocked her head onto one side as Aman approached, her smile questioning. "Where was it you left to so early this morning, hmm, Aman?" she asked curiously. The Innkeeper merely smiled mysteriously at her and winked, then laid the large box flat on the table, turning to Buttercup. "Where is Cook?"

"Cook? Why, I'm not entirely sure...she went back out a while ago to talk to some more of the goodwives about..." she trailed off, waving a hand vaguely, her eyes staring into midair, then looked back at Aman. "Would you like me to call her?"

"No!" Aman started suddenly, hands up in front of her, eyes wide, before she gathered herself. "I mean...well, I don't want to bother her, you know, not when all is so busy and..." now it was the Innkeeper's turn to trail off. Buttercup raised an eyebrow and let her eyes flicker down to Aman's garb. The Rohirrim woman grinned ruefully, brushing her windswept hair back with a gloved hand and nodded. "Exactly. Cook has never really...approved of my riding clothes," she said carefully.

Ruby chuckled, shaking her head. "'Never trust a woman wearing leather', that's what she's always said," she laughed, reaching for the wooden box and opening it to reveal about a score and a half of fine, rusty red apples nestled neatly and tightly in straw nests. Smiling approvingly, she murmured something about alerting Miss Bunce and bustled off.

Zimzi stood back, arms crossed, looking skeptical. "Much as I like apples, Aman...do you mean to tell me that you have been riding since the crack of dawn merely to get some?"

Aman wagged a finger at her in mock sternness. "Ah, do not underestimate the value of a good harvest of apples, Zimzi!" She grinned teasingly then shook her head. "Alright, so maybe that wasn't exactly what I was riding for... Come, help me escape Cook before she sees me wearing my riding clothes!" She leant forward and took Zimzi's hand firmly, leading her furtively out of the kitchen. Looking back, she rolled her eyes at the other woman. "Never trust a woman in leather indeed! Come, Zimzi, I need to show you something."

As Aman led the other through the Common Room briskly, Zimzi paused, pulling back slightly although she seemed quite happy to go along with it - after all, she had been simply going along with other people's plans all morning. "Aman, you are being rather mysterious this morning, and that's saying something as you've only been here for five minutes. What is this about now?"

Aman flashed a smile back at her as they reached the bottom of the stairs, letting go of the other's hand. "A gift," she replied softly.

Zimzi hesitated at the word, her brow crinkling slightly. "A gi-...Aman, I'm not sure...I mean, before the handfasting..."

Aman shook her head impatiently. "No, no, this is...well, it is a gift more to you than to Derufin. It is not my single gift for the handfasting, of course, but is something...special..." she stopped, looking at Zimzi with troubled eyes before she clapped her hands worriedly. "Oh, come on, Zimzi, please - Miss Bunce will skin me alive!"

~*~

Zimzi having gone along with the Innkeeper's plan, Aman led her up the stairs to her own room, but when they reached their destination, she stopped the other before she went in. Biting her lip like a child about to give another her Christmas present, she beamed and bid Zimzi close her eyes. The woman looked at her incredulously, but she begged her to do so. Eventually, the other did so and Aman darted into her room.

Crossing the sparsely furnished room briskly, she stopped at the foot of her bed, where a large, deep chest sat: Aman's treasure chest. Beaming to herself, Aman knelt in front of the chest and opened it carefully. Reaching in, past the various pieces of paraphenalia which were scattered over the dark wood, the drew out a slightly battered cardboard box, about a foot long and several inches deep. She paused over it, her fingers lingering above it, before she leapt up and walked back to the door, opening it and leading in her victim. In the quiet of the room, she took of the lid of the box and guided Zimzi's fingers onto the object that laid within.

Zimzi's brow furrowed as she ran her fingers over the surface, attempting to work out what it was, before her eyes suddenly opened wide in surprise as she worked it out. Carefully and slowly, she pulled it out, standing to behold Aman's gift in it's full glory: a beautiful ivory white dress, the material soft and smooth, as finely made as any material anywhere in Middle Earth. The curved v-neck was adorned with a simple, delicate pattern of mallorn leaves, matching the pattern at the end of the wide, sloping sleeves which ended at the elbow, with the long undersleeves a slightly darker shade of dove grey. The fitted bodice gave way to a flowing, unconstricting skirt, which seemed about the right length for Zimzi.

Zimzi looked up at Aman in shock, holding the dress out from her by the shoulders, speechless. The Innkeeper smiled bashfully, and shrugged a little, looking away. "I found it among the clothes in the attic, and it seemed somewhat finer than the others. I couldn't have worn it myself - it's a little too long, see, about your length, and once I consulted a few of the hobbit goodwives, gave it a spruce up, you know, embelished the leaf patterns a little..." she trailed off, her green eyes meeting Zimzi's deep brown ones again, anxiously.

"Aman, I-" Zimzi stopped, her eyes fixed on the dress, before she turned it to hold it up to herself, measuring the length.

"It cleaned up well, and what with the light colour, and the season, and the joyfullness of the event - well, it seemed suitable, you see," Aman gushed on awkwardly, admiring the dress with her head on one side as she stepped forward nervously, taking one of the sleeves in her hands, the dark leather of her gloves a stark contrast against the soft, light material as she swung it slightly, fidgeting. "It is a fine dress, no mistake - but you don't have to wear it if you don't want to, of course, it was merely an idea, you know, a thought that-"

"Aman..."

Zimzi's voice halted Aman's onslaught and she looked back at Zimzi, biting her lip nervously. "Do you like it?" she said nervously.

Zimzi didn't reply immediately, simply laughed and came forward to embrace Aman tightly, the dress held between them. Aman returned the embrace gladly, giving a great, contented sigh of relief as they parted. Zimzi studied the dress again, running an eye over the detail and finery embedded in the elegant, simple design. Her brow crumpled slightly suddenly and Aman felt her pulse almost stop at the sight. She nodded towards the neckline of the dress and Aman scurried around to see what it was that she was looking at.

"What is that?"

Aman peered closely with her keen eyes to see what Zimzi meant, then saw the tiny, perfectly embroidered runes she referred to: two words, one on either side, each no bigger than the width of a little fingernail. She took a moment to work it out, then realisation dawned and she smiled shyly. "It's elvish..." she murmured.

"What does it say?" Zimzi was bursting with impatience and Aman stole a quick glance back at her teasingly, then grinned. "It simply says 'melde' - love, or beloved."

Zimzi looked back at Aman, then laughed delightedly, swirling around with the dress pressed against her. Aman watched, a small smile on her face as the other woman came to face her. She nodded, satisfied. "I wasn't sure what it would be like," she said, softly. "Wasn't sure whether the light colour would look well against your dark skin..." she trailed off, looking back at Zimzi and nodding slowly. "But I see that you match it just as you match Derufin: each complimenting each other, matching, counterparts...in short, perfect." She smiled widely, putting her hands on Zimzi's shoulders as her hands were full. "You and he deserve so much happiness - I am glad you have found it together."

She sighed, seeming to come out of her reverie. Opening the door, she jerked her head towards it. "Come - I need to change my clothes, and downstairs Buttercup will be wondering where you have got to."

Zimzi nodded, carefully folding over the dress as she came to the doorway. Pausing, the looked down at Aman and smiled again. "Thank you," she murmured, then left.