Author's Note: This story is a bit AU, so don't get on me about the departure from the original timeline. It's in two chapters simply for pacing, it's not very long. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Oh, and the seedcakes just for Trilliah ;)
By Sangwaelen
Frodo was up with the sun the next morning, full of excitement about the impending fireworks. He had seen a few small crackers and whing-zingers, as they were called, back in Buckland, but according to Bilbo, Gandalf's fireworks were legendary. He wasn't at all surprised when he saw Sam's small figure jogging towards Bag End a bit earlier than usual, with his gaffer more than a few steps behind.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Fro...do..." he puffed, his cheeks rosier than usual from his bout of exercise. "Da says...Da says..."
"Take a breath, Sam. There you go. Now, what did Mr. Hamfast say?"
"He says I can spend the whole day with you, being as it's a special occasion 'n all. O'course, if it's all right with you and Mr. Bilbo." Frodo told him he it was certainly fine with him, and that Bilbo wouldn't mind a bit. Sam nearly shouted with joy, but remembered that his gaffer had told him to be on his best behavior, and though better of it.
The day passed slowly for both of the young hobbits, but Sam was more than happy enough just spending a day of play with his beloved young master. Despite his merry spirits, an uneasy thought was gnawing at his mind.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam began, between bites of a buttered roll, "what are fireworks, exactly?" Frodo was caught off guard, and choked on a swallow of tea, unable to keep a small laugh of surprise from rising to his throat.
"Well, ahm, they're..ahem..hard to explain," he sputtered, not quite over a small coughing fit. "It's like many colored fireflies, or perhaps tiny fairies, flying up into the night sky and making pictures with themselves. I've never seen Gandalf's fireworks, but according to Bilbo they're spectacular, and look like everything from the sun herself to flowers."
"I would sure like to look at flower pictures, Mr. Frodo." Sam didn't quite understand the description, but it was good enough for him. "I'm so excited, I...I'm fit to burst!"
"Now now, that won't do! You'd miss the display!"
At long last, the sun fell behind the horizon and it was time for the display to begin. Gandalf had set it up by himself, allowing no one near a large field just to the south of Bag End, but now it was full of hobbits, young and old. Blankets were spread out and picnic baskets were numerous. Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam were soon among the crowd, and quickly situated themselves.
"This will be a sight to see, my boys," Bilbo said, handing them each a small seedcake. Sam was too excited to eat it, which was a rare thing indeed, being a growing hobbit. He saw his gaffer not far from where he was, but felt very grown up, being allowed to be away from his parents for the entire day.
"Look Sam, it's about to start!" Frodo said excitedly, as Gandalf bent over, a small flame in his hand. Sam's mouth hung open as he heard a small fizzing sound, and then saw a faint streak of light fly through the night sky.
Sam's shriek was nearly as loud as the firecracker itself, but few took notice except Frodo and Bilbo. It would have impossible for Frodo to have ignored it, even if he wanted to, because the lad had also latched onto Frodo's arm with a force that he didn't think was possible in a hobbit of Sam's size.
"Oh dear," Bilbo said, looking worried. "I didn't think it would scare him so. I suppose I had better take him back to the house. Come along Samwise, it's all right..." but Sam refused to let go of his young master. Bilbo tried to coax him, but the boy just shook his head and scrunched his wet eyes closed.
"I'll take him back, Bilbo. Just go tell Mr. Hamfast what happened. Really, I don't mind so much." Frodo realized he didn't really have much of a choice, and carried Sam back to Bag End, singing an old lullaby in an attempt to hush his tears.
It took some coaxing and reassuring pats to get Sam to let go of Frodo's arm, and a chocolate biscuit and milk to stifle the tears to only sniffles.
"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Frodo. I'm jussa scaredy hobbit, and now neither of us get t'see the fireworks," he said, threatening to begin crying again.
"Oh, it's all right Sam, I don't mind, not so much." A flicker of green light caught Frodo's eye, and he went to one of the round windows and pulled back the curtain. "Actually, we're in luck! We can see the fireworks from here, and not be around all that pesky noise!" Sam's face brightened, but only slightly. Frodo slid one of Bilbo's small tables underneath the window and sat Sam upon it.
"Wait here, I'll be back in a moment." Frodo disappeared into his room and re-emerged with an extra blanket. "Here, we will have our own indoor picnic! How's that?" He asked, spreading the blanket out on the table. Sam smiled and wiped his nose. The two friends gazed through the tiny window, looking at the display in awe. "Look, look, Sam! That one reminds me of you, it looks just like a flower. You do love flowers."
"An' what about that'n, Mr. Frodo?" Sam pointed at the window just as a blue firework took the shape of a star, behind the flower. "That one reminds me of you. We're firecracker friends, aren't we, Mr. Frodo?" Sam's eyes were no longer wet with tears, and his sniffles had stopped.
"Oh Sam. I suppose so. We're firecracker friends." And with that, Frodo began to sing the lullaby again, one he remembered his mother singing to him long ago.
For you know that I am here
Never need thee be frightened
For in your heart, I am always near
In your dreams, demons may lie
But I will hear if out you cry
So never need thee be frightened
I shall be there, you will know it is I
Even when the years grow long
You will not forget this song
And never need thee be frightened
For you know I will never truly be gone...
~~~
"...and you know that I am here, never need thee be frightened, for in your heart, I am always near." Frodo finished his lullaby softly, for tiny Elanor had fallen asleep, and was contentedly sucking her thumb. "I suppose you shall hear of the times your father took care of me another day," he whispered, "though maybe not from me."
Sam Gamgee stood in the doorway of the main living area of Bag End, gazing at his small daughter in his best friend's gentle hands. He had been listening intently for quite sometime, careful not to disturb the pair, and his face was damp with tears.