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Soaked to the bone, shivering, and exhausted, Asphodel attempted to to pull herself up off her blanket. Her body felt like lead, and she found she was still a little dizzy. After a few tries, however, she found she was able to stand tolerably well on her own feet.
Slowly but surely, she made her way towards the smoking ruins of the Green Dragon. She could hear voices, now, and watched as people ran to and fro with buckets of water to quench the last of the fire.
Asphodel wished that her family would come to get her. She didn't think she could make the hour's walk to her house on her wobbly legs. She knew she had to get help, but from who? Now facing the Inn, she rested herself on a large rock, and watched the people putting the fire out; some Men, some Elves, some Dwarves, but mostly Hobbits. She didn't recognize any of them. She searched in vain for Aman, the barkeeper. The Big Folk lady was not there. At least, not that she could see. Though she felt very sick, Asphodel was too shy to ask help of those she didn't know. There was but one thing to do, and that was to wait until Aman came back, or until her father came to pick her up.
She hoped that her father had heard of the Inn fire, otherwise he probably wouldn't come to get her right away. Espcially since it was raining so hard. Asphodel's legs felt stiff and sore from walking. She sunk down slowly and sat in the soft mud, her back up against the rock. Shivering, she gathered her knees in her arms and placed her head upon them, letting the heavy rain soak the top of her head, and run down her back.
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