It was always a cause for celebration whenever Gandalf came to Hobbiton with his fireworks. Merry had not been able to talk of anything else for weeks and his parents had been very happy to drop him off at Bag End so they would have a bit of peace. Paladin and his wife were just as happy and for the same reason for their four-year-old son had imitated his older cousin. Frodo hugged them both tightly when they arrived, listened to their chatter and joined in merrily with it for he was excited as well and so was Sam who had come in from the garden for afternoon tea. This would be Pippin’s first time to see fireworks and he was nearly beside himself with joy and anticipation. It was almost too much for all three hobbits to keep him still long enough for him to eat anything at all for dinner. At last they gave up and gave him the run of the Hill, where he made a straight line to the Party Tree and ran around, looking around for the fireworks he figured had to be hidden somewhere.

“Let him run off some of that energy, lads,” Bilbo said with a laugh. “He’ll be still enough once the show begins.”

And so it proved. It was a wondrous show, one of Gandalf’s very best. Pippin did indeed sit still in Frodo’s lap with Sam and Merry on either side of him. His eyes were wide and his mouth open in awe the entire time, as was much of the rest of Hobbiton. When it was all over, he leapt up and cheered and clapped with everyone else and then ran over to Gandalf, tugged on his robes, and hugged the wizard around the legs. The wizard had quite a time dislodging himself from such an exuberant embrace.

Frodo looked at Sam. “That was just splendid, wasn’t it, Sam?” he said with a shining face. “I’ll never forget it! Never!”

Sam smiled at his best friend and future master and as always his heart seemed ready to burst at the beauty he beheld and the love that grew ever stronger. “It was a treat at that, Mr. Frodo, and no mistake!”

* * *

It was many years later that Sam thought of that night again. They were near the Mountain now and the torment was terrible for them both. Sam thought the thirst was nearly enough to drive him mad and he knew it had to be worse for his master, for he had to contend with the Ring as well. Frodo’s eyes were vacant and fixed before him, but Sam didn’t think he was seeing anything in front of him. Naught but that wheel of fire, he thought and sought for a badly needed distraction. He took his master into his arms as it was near time to settle down for the night.

“Do you....do you remember, Mr. Frodo, Gandalf’s fireworks, especially that show when Mr. Pippin was just a wee one, the one you said you would never forget?”

Frodo’s breath came in gasps. He turned his head and tried to focus his eyes on Sam. The gardener watched his master struggle to remember and the sorrow that came when he failed. “I’m...I’m sorry...Sam, but I don’t. You’ll....you’ll have to...remember it...for me.”

“The sky was full of reds and blues and greens and oranges and the elf fountains and goblin barkers and at Mr. Bilbo’s last birthday party, there was that dragon that nearly scared us all silly? Surely, you remember that, Mr. Frodo?”

“No...Sam...I’m...”

Sam could have cried. He wished he could for then he could moisten his master’s cracked lips. Instead he placed one of his dirty fingers there to keep him from apologizing again. “That’s all right, Mr. Frodo. There’s naught for you to be sorry for. I’ll remember it all for you and hope you forgive your servant for being naught but a ninnyhammer for asking if you did, after you’ve said you don’t.”

There was a very weak smile and a moment when Frodo’s arms tightened around Sam, then relaxed again, having no strength to sustain the embrace. “My...brother,” he corrected with careful emphasis, “is naught...but the...greatest...hobbit who ever lived...”

Sam held him a little tighter, looking down into those lovely eyes. “Now, you’re being the ninnyhammer, Mr. Frodo, begging your pardon, because you’re the greatest and there would be no one who would gainsay me on that.”

The weary smile widened and Frodo’s breath caught as though he wanted to laugh but had no strength. “Calling me a... ninnyhammer, Sam? I...should...ask...your Gaffer to...take a switch to you...for such sauce...”

Sam was, for a moment, horrified, then he realized that in the midst of all their agony, when they were nearly dead from thirst, exhaustion and hunger, his master, his most beloved, beautiful, suffering master, found the strength and heart to tease him! He could have leapt up and danced with joy. Inside he merely kissed Frodo’s dear, filthy brow and hugged him tight. “Bless you, Mr. Frodo!” he murmured. “And bless me for knowing you.”

Frodo held onto his Sam a little tighter. When he took his next breath, a coughing spasm seized him and Sam grieved that he had nothing to give that would calm it. He rubbed his master’s back until it eased on its own and Frodo lay back in his arms, more exhausted than before.

“And bless me...” Frodo said with the last of his strength, “for knowing...you, Sam...hobbit of hobbits.”

He closed his eyes and surrendered to oblivion. Sam watched him for a long time, gently, slowly stroking his filthy curls. There were many, many times in the long years since he had known and loved his Frodo that he thought he couldn’t possibly love him any more than he did already or his heart would burst and he always found that everyday he did love him more. He thought now his heart truly would burst from how that love swelled in him. There was peace in his master’s face now that hadn’t been there in long enough and Sam marveled at it and the light within him that continue to shine all the brighter. Sam kissed his treasure’s head once more and laid down to sleep himself, his arms securely wrapped around his Frodo. And, if any had been near to see it, they would have seen peace in his features too - all because he had mentioned fireworks.