Originally written in 2009 for the Fourth of July.
Few present could recall having seen Gandalf’s fireworks.
As the wizard prepared the first flight of rockets for this special celebration, an almost palpable excitement stirred the assembled guests. They sat up straighter, turned eager gazes heavenward.
Gasps and cries of astonishment mingled with thunderclaps of noise as the rockets soared skyward, bursting into gold and silver blossoms that rained softly down onto their upturned faces.
’Tis like a miracle, thought Sam. But the dazzling display didn’t hold him spellbound, enchanted; it was Frodo, his face alight with pure, uncomplicated happiness.
Joyful tears filled Sam’s eyes. For sixty-one years he’d wondered, and now he knew: Frodo was healed and whole again.