He returns. "The ghost problem is all cleared up and here is a big pile of money," he fails to say. Instead he has a new theory on why this ghost remains obstinately un-exorcised. Last week he took some fireworks from the library. The fireworks were given to the Old Took by Gandalf, and up until a week ago they had been sitting in the library as a commemorative fire hazard. Adelard then had them sent to the Mathom House in Michael Delving. A museum, basically.
"Are you seriously telling me you want me to recover antique fireworks?"
"Yes! Then take them up the hill and set them off."
"Just... set off some crackers on the festival hill in the middle of the night?"
"Yes! Maybe he's upset that I sent them away."
"Maybe he just wants them back," I suggest.
"Maybe he wants to see them go off!"
"Maybe the place isn't even haunted," would be a very foolish thing for me to say at this point, so I bite my tongue. On one hand, I'm not so keen on marching all the way over to the Mathom House. On the other hand, those lame-brains have put hundred year old fireworks on display in a wooden building full of books and priceless heirlooms. No good can come of this.
A long hike takes me to the Mathom House, where they just hand out the historically significant item to me without asking any questions. Another long hike takes me back to Tuckborough.
I go to the festival stage - the wooden festival stage - and set up the fireworks. Oh, wait. There's some old, dry carpet in the middle of the stage to protect the wood from sparks and fire. Much better.
This seems like a momentous occasion. These fireworks were once owned by an important person from long ago. And I'm about to set them off. Shouldn't we like, have a party or a meal before I light this stuff? But instead I'm doing this in the middle of the night. I feel like I should at least say something to mark the occasion.
WAKEY WAKEY! RISE AND SHINE, HOBBITS! Wooooooooooooo!