The hobbits are up to something. Why that surprises me, I’ll never know, for they are seemingly always up to something. But they have Legolas and Gandalf in on it. They dart about like sheepish children, dodging questions and telling me to go about my coronation feast. Frodo and Sam keep me company, and Gimli dogs my every step. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were plotting to overthrow me.
They come to dinner that night, smiling and smelling strangely of sulfur. I pretend not to notice as we eat, for to scold two hobbits, a wizard and an elf in front of all these people is to flirt with death. But then Gandalf stands up, and says that he has a gift to give. The hobbits are grinning, and Legolas looks fit to burst with glee. The skies light up.
This night, there are fireworks over Minas Tirith.