Author's Note: Sections of this story previously appeared as a challenge story: "A Midsummer Night's Dream".  

Midsummer, S.R. 1319

“Come in, Bilbo-lad, come in. I can’t see you properly from all the way over there.”

Bilbo entered, shutting the door behind him carefully, and padded across the polished oak floor of the study. His grandfather lay upon a settee where he was bundled up in a knitted coverlet. Though it was mid-summer, a fire blazed in the hearth, and the room felt stifling.

“Hullo, Grandfather,” he said politely. He hoped his nervousness did not show. It had been a while since he had seen his Grandfather, and Gerontius looked older than ever. It was frightening to see how frail he looked.

But the green eyes twinkled back at him, as sharp and curious as ever. “It’s good to see you again, my lad.” He coughed, and then pulled himself up to almost a sitting position. “Have a seat, Bilbo.”

Bilbo looked behind him. The armchair was too far away for comfortable conversation. He pulled the footstool close, instead, and sat down near his grandfather’s side. Gerontius put out a withered hand, and Bilbo took it between his own. The skin felt thin and dry. “I have missed you, Grandfather.”

Gerontius smiled. “I know that it is not your fault you have not seen me these last few years.”

When young Fortinbras had married Lalia Clayhanger only a few months after Adalgrim's wedding, Belladonna had declined the invitation. She'd used Bungo's health as a reason, but Bilbo knew that wasn't her only one. She did not like Lalia, and said she had a bad feeling about her. They'd not been back to the Great Smials since, though Bilbo had paid a couple of short visits by himself to Whitwell to see Adalgrim and Periwinkle, once for the Naming Day of their first child little Pearl, who had been born only a year after the wedding, and then again a few months ago for his cousin's birthday. Only the news that Gandalf was coming back to the Shire for the Tookland Litheday celebrations, with his famous fireworks, had brought his mother to reconsider their attendance. She was very fond of the old wizard, and thought that the chance of seeing him once more was worth the annoyance of seeing Lalia.

“I wish I could see you more often,” said Bilbo.

His grandfather laid a gentle hand against his cheek briefly. “I know that you do. Tell me how you are getting on in Hobbiton, amidst all of those stuffy Bagginses, lad?” But he said it with a twinkle in his green eyes, and Bilbo did not take offence.

“I get on well enough. But none of them are so much fun as Chop and Siggy,” he replied cheekily.

“Yes, well, I daresay none of them get you into as much trouble, either,” he chuckled.

Bilbo blushed, but he laughed as well. “I am too old for such things now, Grandfather,” he said.

“Of course you are, a great tween like yourself! Why you are nearly of age!”

“I’ll be twenty-nine on my birthday.”

Just then, there was a sharp rap at the study door.

“Would you go see who it is, Bilbo-lad?”

Bilbo got up and went across the room, and just before he opened the door there was another rap. Bilbo’s eyes grew wide. “Gandalf!” he exclaimed. “Grandfather, it’s Gandalf!”

“Well, don’t just stand there, let him in!!”

Bilbo stood back nervously. He had not come face to face with the wizard in eight years--since the little incident with the fireworks.  He cleared his throat and stood back.

“H-Hello, Gandalf,” he stammered. “Grandfather says to come in.”

His tall figure bent nearly double to enter the door, but once inside he could stand easily, for the ceilings at the Great Smials were much higher than normal hobbit-ceilings. He walked over to the settee, and greeted Gerontius.

“My old friend,” he exclaimed heartily, “it’s so good to see you once more!” He bent down and took the Old Took’s hands between his own. “I have missed you!”

“And I you,” was the answer.

Bilbo stood there placing his weight first on one foot and then on the other, biting his lip. Should he stay, or should he go?

His grandfather answered his unspoken question. “Run along, Bilbo-lad! I will see you later. You and your parents are to take supper with me before the bonfire and the fireworks tonight.”

Gandalf looked at him beneath lowered brows, though the sternness was belied by the twinkle in his eye. “I believe that you will find I have abundant fireworks for tonight! There will be no need for you to steal them!”

Bilbo blushed furiously, and giving a quick bow of farewell, he backed out of the room and closed the door. Then he rushed off to find Siggy and Rory and let them know the wizard had arrived; and he didn't seem to be angry with them any longer, though he was teasing about it.

Gandalf chuckled as he sat down opposite Gerontius. “He is a very remarkable young hobbit.”

Gerontius smiled. “I think, in spite of his Baggins heritage, that he is one of the most Tookish of my grandchildren! His adventurous nature was somewhat subdued by the Fell Winter, however. He is far more cautious than he used to be. But I think that the Tookishness is just below the surface, ready to burst forth if the right occasion comes along.”

Gandalf nodded. “I think that you are quite right, my friend. So, can I coax you out of your cosy den tonight with the promise of bright explosions?”

“I think perhaps you may, Gandalf! I would quite like to see your fireworks once more.” Unspoken were the words, “before I die”.

Gandalf nodded. He knew what his friend did not say.

The word had spread: the Old Took was going to come out of his room this night! He would come to the bonfire, and he would watch Gandalf's fireworks. The news was greeted with great joy by most of his children and relatives and was much discussed at teatime.

Lalia however, seemed determined to rain on the party. She clung to Fortinbras' arm like a limpet, and kept saying things like: "Oh, I do so hope that this isn't too much for the poor old thing. I'm sure that being out in the night air can't be good for his lungs. And what if all the loud noises frighten him? He could have a seizure of the heart."

Bilbo could see his mother's jaw clench. He knew she was getting very angry at Lalia's pointed remarks, but she didn't want to cause a scene and possibly upset his father, who truth be told, was much more likely to have a heart attack than the Old Took.

Aunt Citrine however, rolled her eyes and snorted. As a healer, she could get away with being rude sometimes. "Stuff and nonsense, lass! The fresh air will do him good--that study of his is entirely too hot and stuffy. As for the noises, he's been accustomed to Gandalf's fireworks for longer than anyone--he's always been delighted with them, and it can only do him good to be reminded of happier times! Stop being such a wet blanket, child!"

Lalia's eyes widened in shock at being spoken to that way, and then her dark eyes hardened. She never forgot a grievance, as everyone knew. But Aunt Citrine just arched an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to say something else.

Fortinbras tugged at her and gestured in the direction of the tea table. "My dear, I do believe that I saw that cherry and walnut cake you are so fond of on the table." This immediately took her attention off Aunt Citrine, and she headed straight for the table. She had already had seconds of most of the things there. In the few years since she had married, her figure had gone beyond buxom and she was now more than stout. Yet food was the thing that would distract her whenever she grew unpleasant to those around her.

Citrine shook her head. Lalia had borne little Ferumbras only a year after the marriage, and she had been putting weight on more and more ever since. It couldn't be good for her health, for she seldom did anything except sit about eating sweets and gossiping with any who would listen to her calumnies. She left everything to the servants, and she ran her chambermaid Begonia ragged. The healer was certain that it would cause trouble down the road. Oh, well, it was not her responsibility, for Lalia refused to use her services, preferring those of a healer out of Tuckborough--one who was easily cowed by Lalia's position.

Bilbo and Siggy had watched the whole thing wide-eyed, and Bilbo was more than a little shocked. "Things are a lot different around here than they used to be," he said.

Siggy shook his head. "You've no idea, cousin! You should be glad you live in Hobbiton! I'm just glad that Cousin Fort was able to distract her; you've never heard anything until you've heard one of her tantrums!" He sighed, and then looked at the tea table hopefully. "Do you suppose she's left any of that cherry-walnut cake for anyone else?"

That night, tucked up snugly beneath a rug, in a large wheeled chair, Gerontius was the center of his family. Bilbo could not get very close to him, for all his aunts and uncles were nearby, rejoicing in the fact that their father had seen fit to come out of his room on a beautiful summer’s night.

Gandalf’s fireworks had been brilliant, like a fiery flower garden, Bilbo thought. The wizard had been generous as well with squibs and crackers and sparklers--abundant fireworks, as he had said. Now the family and villagers from nearby Tuckborough listened to fiddle and harp and drum, and some of the couples were still dancing, but it was clear that the night was winding down.

Bilbo gave a great sigh--he did not know if it was a sigh of satisfaction for a wonderful evening, or of sorrow that the evening was soon to end.

“Well, Bilbo Baggins,” rumbled the deep voice of the wizard from behind him, “did you enjoy the fireworks even though they were not stolen?”

Bilbo looked up at him. “Yes, sir! They were the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen! Like lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire, like a whole garden of fire! I will never forget it--or you!”

Gandalf laid a hand on his head gently, and bent down to look into his eyes. “Never is a long time, young hobbit. I think that you will forget for a time--but when the time is right, you will indeed remember!”

What a very peculiar thing to say! thought Bilbo. But then his attention was caught by his cousin Siggy, pulling him to come and join the Tangle Dance, in which all hobbits young and old, joined in.

Midsummer of 1319 was the last time Bilbo saw his Grandfather Gerontius to speak to. When his family returned at Yule, the Old Took was too ill for conversation, and he passed from life only a few weeks later, in the early Solmath of 1320.

It was many years, however, before Bilbo saw Gandalf again. Over the years, that magical evening gradually came to seem like a long-ago and faded dream, and when he did remember, he found it most peculiar that he could have nearly forgotten so remarkable a personage.