A/N: Thank you Marigold for the beta :)

Gandalf felt a sharp tug on the hem of his robes. Frowning, the wizard did not turn as he continued to sift through his supply of fireworks in the back of his waggon.

A second tug followed, and then a third, each one more insistent than the last. Finally, at the end of his patience, Gandalf turned and discovered his menace: a small, giggling hobbit.

His hands clapped over his mouth, the young hobbit persisted in giggling even as Gandalf glowered down at him. "Hullo, Gandalf! I thought you would never turn around," he laughed.

Gandalf felt his heart warm to the small lad, though he did not alter his scowling expression as he searched the youngster's cheerful green eyes and merry expression. He had not yet met this hobbit, but it was quite easy to figure out who he might be. "You must be a Took," he concluded at last.

"Peregrin Took at your service and your family's," he said politely, as his parents had taught him. "But everyone calls me Pippin. I’ve been waiting all night to talk to you, Gandalf. Are you going to set off more fireworks soon? And do you make all of them yourself? Frodo said that you did.”

“Certainly,” Gandalf replied, highly amused by the young hobbit’s chatter. “I do hope you are enjoying them.”

“I am, especially the ones that look like eagles and boats!” Pippin said, his eyes shining with excitement. He cocked his head and regarded the wizard and his waggon curiously. “Do you think you can come to my birthday party, too? It's a few months away. I'll give you a present! Did you see what Bilbo gave me?"

Without waiting for an answer Pippin held out a small, intricately carved wooden figure. It was a tiny hobbit, painted in deep, rich colors.

Standing on his toes, Pippin set it down on the back of the waggon and turned a small key in its back until he could wind it no longer. The miniature figure sprang to life, twirling round and round in a cheerful dance, its arms flapping and its feet tapping furiously. It even managed a stiff somersault, flinging its heels over its head, before slowing to a stop.

"A remarkable toy," Gandalf pronounced with a smile.

"It's my favorite present ever. Frodo said that the dwarves made it," Pippin replied with a grin. He suddenly, selflessly, held out the toy. "Do you want to try, Gandalf?"

"I am afraid that I cannot play right now, my lad," Gandalf said gently. "It’s nearly time for me to set off some more fireworks."

"I'll help you, Gandalf!" Pippin cried eagerly as he stowed away the toy in his pocket. He pointed to an enormous firecracker, so large that it hung over the side of the wizard’s waggon. "Can you set off that red one now? It looks like a dragon. Is it Smaug? Will fire come out of its mouth?" He hopped from foot to foot, quivering with anticipation.

Gandalf raised his hand, chuckling. "Mercy!" he cried. "You're as inquisitive as any Took ever was, Peregrin, but I am afraid that you cannot help me. Fireworks can be very dangerous."

Pippin frowned in disappointment, something Gandalf seemed to expect, because he smiled sympathetically and retrieved a yellow cone-shaped object from the depths of the waggon.

"Perhaps you might assist me a little," the wizard said kindly. "Will you hold this for me, Peregrin? And then I shall require your help in gathering the children for the next round of fireworks. But first let me return you to your parents; I do not want you to get lost in the dark."

Feeling quite important that, of all the hobbits at the party, he had been the one chosen to help the wizard, Pippin smiled happily and held Gandalf's hand tightly in his own as they walked to his family's table.

Only Paladin was there now, as his wife and daughters danced together nearby. He watched them, laughing and clapping along with the music, before he caught sight of his son approaching, with a wizard in tow.

"Paladin, I suppose this young scamp belongs to you," Gandalf said, smiling as Pippin, babbling about fireworks, launched himself at his father.

"I’m afraid so," Paladin replied in amusement before turning to his son. "You weren't bothering Gandalf, now, were you?"

Pippin shook his head, protesting fiercely, but Gandalf merely chuckled.

"He was a less of a bother than I remember you being, Paladin," he replied before turning to the younger hobbit. "Did you know, Peregrin, that I once rescued your father from the most frightening of enemies: the highest branches of a tree?”

Wide-eyed, Pippin turned to look at Paladin, who laughed at the memory.

“Your father was scarcely the age you are now, I suspect,” Gandalf said. “Perhaps I shall tell you that story later. But for now, Peregrin, a reward for your assistance." He waved his hand and the yellow cone crackled into light as a continuous stream of butterflies and stars spiraled from its top.

"For me?" Pippin squeaked in delight. "Thank you, Gandalf!" He bounded over and gave the wizard a one-armed hug around his knees.

"You're very welcome, my lad," Gandalf replied, laughing, as he patted Pippin's head. "Now, go on and round up the children. I shall be setting off more fireworks in a few moments."

Grinning, Pippin scampered off, tightly clutching the cone. A spray of golden light followed in his wake, and along the way he attracted a large crowd of awed and curious young hobbits as he headed to the grassy area where the other children were playing.

Gandalf turned and made his way back to his waggon to gather his supplies. The next round of fireworks was even grander than the last, and hardly anyone noticed or minded that there were more eagles and ships this time around than spears and trees.

Delighted, Pippin watched the display with the other children, and when the last of the fireworks faded into the night he returned to sit beside his father, who was deep in thought as he watched Gandalf rummage through his waggon once more.

“What are you thinking about, Da?” Pippin asked, leaning over to rest his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Wizards,” Paladin admitted with a laugh. “I remember being quite fascinated with Gandalf when I was young, even though I only met him a few times. I thought it would be great fun to go off on some adventure with him and my friends, and I used to upset my parents with such talk. Now that I have children of my own I understand why,” he added quietly, almost to himself.

Confused by the suddenly serious tone of their conversation, Pippin curiously studied his father’s troubled expression. “Why, Da?” he finally asked.

“Well,” Paladin began, “going on an adventure would mean having to leave the Shire and everyone in it behind.”

“Like Bilbo did,” Pippin offered.

“Exactly,” Paladin replied. “But when Bilbo went away his parents were no longer living, and he had no wife or children. He didn’t even have Frodo yet.”

“Poor Bilbo. He must have been very lonely,” Pippin said sadly.

“Perhaps he was,” Paladin answered. “But it also might have made it easier for him to leave. I know I wouldn’t want to go away and leave your mum or sisters. Or you,” he added, tapping Pippin on the nose. “And I wouldn’t want any of you to leave, either.”

An unexpected lump formed in Pippin’s throat as he thought over all that had been said, and quite suddenly he felt the need to hug his father.

“What’s this?” Paladin said in amusement, though he hugged Pippin tightly in return, and even bent to kiss his son’s forehead.

Pippin returned his gaze to the wizard across the field, and grinned as he saw Gandalf retrieve the giant red dragon from waggon, his heart already lighter than it had been a moment before.

Tonight Pippin did not want to think about adventures or going away or anything sad. For now, he was content to sit beside his father and watch the fireworks light up the night sky.