[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel sat on the ground, her back to a tree, and basked in the late morning sunshine. Its warm rays felt good on her tired body, and she was cheerful and happy, despite the melancholy of those around her. She reflected back on the strange night, and her close call in the Story Room fire. A question flited across her mind, one that she had not remembered until just then.

Who had saved her? Asphodel sat up and looked around. She tried to see if there was anyone who glanced at her, or who seemed to know her; who looked as if they had saved her from the monstrous blaze. But there didn’t seem to be anyone. Asphodel was not, however, at a loss for a source of employment or amusement. She observed the comings and goings of the people around her. There were several Hobbits eating soup at makeshift tables. There was an elf attending to the wounded. Several bold people, men and Hobbits alike, were dodging in and out of the ruins to collect items that had not been too harmed by the fire. A few of the bar maids were working with unfaltering enthusiasm; tending to the soup in the huge black pot over the fire, moving nimbly back and forth between the different tables. Just as they would have been doing, had the Green Dragon still stood. Asphodel marveled at them. They were honest, strong Hobbit maids, Ruby and Buttercup. Asphodel hoped that, in a similar situation, she would be able to come out as well and as cheerful as they seemed to be. She admired them exceedingly.

Asphodel rested her head against the tree once again. She felt its bark prickle the back of her scalp, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It always smelled so clean after a rain storm. When he had percieved how tired she was, and it was observed that Asphodel probably could not take the hour long walk to the Southfarthing without having some difficulties, her father had gone to Sigismond Proudfoot’s house, to ask permission to borrow Sigismond's cart so that he could take Asphodel home. Sigismond’s pony was a gray, cheerful little fellow named Merrylegs. He was called so, because he had a thick, chubby body and short stumpy legs that pranced too and fro in a very happy manner. He was probably one of the slowest ponies in all of the Shire, but he didn't seem to care. Merrylegs was happy to go at his own leisurely pace, and he was extremely popular with Hobbit-boys and girls. Asphodel smiled, as she thought of the gentle pony, his shaggy mane, resembling that of his master's, hanging over his big, friendly brown eyes. Asphodel liked him the best of all the ponies in the Shire.

The sensation of someone being near her, and the brush of a cloth on her lap, made Asphodel open her eyes. There, standing over her and smiling, was Aman the Big Folk barkeeper. Asphodel smiled up at her. Aman gently placed a green blanket in the little Hobbit's lap, bent her towering frame in half to kiss Asphodel on her curly auburn head, and was gone.

Not a word had been exchanged between them. But no words had been needed. Asphodel smiled again to herself and sighed a tired, but happy sigh. She knew who had saved her from the fire. Big Folks were not so bad after all.

A sound next aroused Asphodel. A large crunching sound, it seemed, was coming towards her. The sat up and peered to her right. There was Sigismond Proudfoot leading Merrylegs the pony down the road, a large wooden cart attached at his haunches. Halfred Hamfast sat in the back. In another minute, Sigismond's large frame was before her, and with a cheerful, "Good day, Miss Hamfast," he lifted her up and set her in the cart next to her father.

Getting on top of Merrylegs, Sigismond hollered, "Next stop, the Southfarthing! Hamfast Plantation!" and with a light kick of the side of the gray pony, they were off. The cart rattled and bumped as they entered the dirt road leading out of Bywater. Asphodel wrapped herself in her green blanket, layed down in the cart amongst the empty sacks, and put her head on her father's lap. She felt tired, but very happy that she was again with her family. Soon, warm and cheerful, Asphodel's eyelids dropped, and she began to nod off to sleep.

A few onlookers, still eating their meals and going about their business, watched as the large wooden, rickety cart made its way, slowly but surely, down the Bywater road. Soon, it came to a bend in the path. The warm, yellow beams of the afternoon sun illuminated the cart and its occupants for a fraction of a second; then, turning into the road and rolling slowly behind a large bend in the hill, it disappered from sight, and was gone.