After thoroughly scrubbing the hardwood floor of the bedroom until it was sparkling clean, Bilbo refinished it using the technique Tam Tiggs had advised. Despite the awful smell of the varnish, Bilbo took his time redoing the floor, wanting it to come out just right. He was very glad to be wearing a pair of his oldest breeches and shirt, however, as he had gotten plenty of the stain on himself during the somewhat messy process.

Only when the entire surface of the floor was refinished--save the spot he was kneeling in--Bilbo sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork. With the new coat of varnish in place, the wood planking of the floor shone beautifully in the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming in through the open window. The Master of Bag End nodded his approval, quite pleased with the outcome and feeling confident that he had this momentous undertaking well under his control. It was when he stood up, wiping his hands on an old rag he'd kept in one pocket of his worn breeches, that he became aware of his dilemma.

Bilbo had started to apply the varnish to the flooring furthest away from the bedroom door, just as was recommended to him. However at one point, due to being so focused on his task, he had turned himself around and had absentmindedly applied the sticky coating in front of the closed bedroom door unawares. He had backed himself into a corner, so-to-speak, forced to stand in place near the window, opened for ventilation.

"Sticklebacks!" he swore. "How could I have been so foolish?"

Bilbo idly pressed one hand to his forehead, while the other continued to hold his paint brush ... thankfully, it was the clean one he held to his head. "What am I going to do now?" he wondered aloud, looking forlornly at the doorway across the room. He most certainly could not walk across the sticky floor without ruining all his hard work that he was especially proud of, not to mention the fact that he would become stuck.

He was seriously contemplating having to spend the night sitting on the one dry spot on the finished floor of the bare room, when the fresh breeze blowing in from the open window provided him with his answer.

* * * * *

The Gaffer was whistling a happy tune as he worked in the flower garden of Bag End that afternoon. He was currently busy pruning the shrubbery underneath some of the smial's front windows, when he heard a loud rustling sound followed by something large hitting the ground with a heavy thump.

He walked around the corner to see what the ruckus was, only to see the branches of the old rose bush in front of one of the bedroom windows shaking wildly to and fro without reason. Dead leaves from the thorny bush fell to the ground and the gardener wasn't sure, but he thought he heard what sounded like curses being mumbled in a foreign tongue. The bush gave one final shake, then stopped.

Thinking a large animal was hiding, or even burrowing, underneath the branches of the semi-overgrown shrub, the Gaffer crept forward cautiously. He most certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of a hissing badger or a venomous snake. Although he had missed having his youngest son with him today, the gardener of Bag End was suddenly glad little Sam was at home with his mother and siblings. Sam would no doubt have crawled underneath the bush, headlong into trouble as children often do.

After poking underneath the bush with the pointed end of a garden stake he'd found nearby, the Gaffer just stood there with his clipping shears in one hand, scratching his head in confusion with the other. Nothing had emerged from under the rose bush and its thorny branches were once again still, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened just minutes before.

"Humph!" he grunted, before returning to his work. He missed seeing the open window above.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins were strolling through the front gate on their way to pay Cousin Bilbo an unscheduled visit, when to their astonishment they observed the green front door to Bag End swing inward on its hinges, revealing the large high-ceilinged foyer. Thinking Mad Baggins had finally come to his senses and was going to greet them properly at the front door (as all guests should be greeted), Lobelia hurriedly pulled her husband by one arm up the stone path ... only to have the round door, with its shiny brass handle in the center, be slammed in their faces.

"Well! I never!" Lobelia shook her unopened umbrella she always carried at the door. "Come Otho, we don't have to tolerate such rudeness! We are obviously not wanted!"

Otho shook his fist at the closed door. "Some day, Cousin!" he bellowed so loudly that all down on Bagshot Row could hear (and cringe in sympathy for the dear Master). "Some day, Bag End will be mine and there is nothing you can do about it!"

The Gaffer, keeping quietly to his own work, just shook his head. Apparently Mr. Bilbo had no intentions of telling these particular relations of his about his grand plans, not to say he blamed him as such. Although all discord was certain to break loose once the S-B's found out, it was going to be very nice indeed to see his master put one over on his most disliked and greediest of relations. The Gaffer just hoped that young Master Frodo wouldn't be the one to suffer all the consequences and repercussions that were likely to occur. The lad was too nice to have to put up with all that nonsense; yes, sweet as could be that one was and one of the nicest hobbits one could ever hope to meet. Mr. Bilbo was certainly doing the little one a favor by bringing him all the way back to Hobbiton to live amongst decent folk once more, on the proper side of the Brandywine River as it were.

* * * * *

"Whew, that was close!" Bilbo gasped, trying to catch his breath. First, he had tumbled from the bedroom window into the old rose bush, ending up with scratches and cuts all over his body from the nasty thorns and prickers. Then, he had almost been poked in the side by the pointed end of a garden stake by Master Hamfast! To top it all off, as he slunk unseen across his own lawn to his front door--silent as only a hobbit could do--the dreaded Sackville-Bagginses had been making their way hastily up the lane. Bilbo had made it to his front door as they had come through the gate, and he had slammed the round door in their faces just in the nick of time ... and with more than a hint of satisfying pleasure too.

"At least they had the sense to leave their brat, Lotho, behind this time," the old hobbit muttered.

Bilbo had heard everything Lobelia and Otho had shouted, of course, and as he slipped his magic ring off his finger, he merely grinned. "We shall see, dear cousins. We shall see."

Owning a magic ring was quite handy at times: it could be used during embarrassing situations to sneak out an open window so no one (like your gardener or neighbors) could see you, and it could also hide you from distasteful and wretchedly rude relatives. Bilbo tossed the simple gold ring into the air, catching it with confidence in one hand, before placing it back in his pocket with a reassuring pat.

He went into his study and unlocked his desk drawer, retrieving a number of letters to be sent out on the morn. He flipped through the bundle, reading each name approvingly: Mr. Rorimac Brandybuck, Mr. Ferumbras Took II , Mr. Saradoc Brandybuck, Miss Dora Baggins, Mr. Porto Baggins, Mr. Griffo Boffin, and Mr. Paladin Took.

These particular hobbits were those he wished to bear witness to Frodo's adoption. They were chosen for their familial ranking to himself and Frodo, along with their strategic legal value and positional status in the Shire. Two more letters were to be sent to the alternates (Mr. Dudo Baggins and Mr. Milo Burrows) in case someone was unable to show on the appointed day. All the letters were a mere formality as Bilbo had already spoken with each hobbit in person about his special request of them. All had readily agreed to serve as witness.

Bilbo chuckled. "I think you will find my dear Cousin Otho, that it is you who will not be able to do anything about it."

* * * * *