For the next several days as the varnished floor dried, Bilbo busied himself with his usual tasks and the general upkeep of Bag End. He didn't particularly want to admit it (especially since he still looked as he did at age fifty), but his body was feeling the aches and pains of being on his hands and knees all day. Muscles that were unused to such rigorous and physically demanding work were sore and he even went so far as to sneak some of the liniment he'd obtained special from the Elves to give to the Gaffer for his birthday mathom. Bilbo felt like he could hardly move, but the discomfort was minor compared to the good feelings derived from accomplishing something by one's self. It would all be worth it to see Frodo settled and happy at last.

When the varnish was dry, Bilbo was ready to proceed with his next undertaking in the bedroom however, the weather conspired against him, turning sour and raining non-stop for the next week. It wasn't until the next weekend came that the dampened air was dry enough to begin the task of painting Frodo's new room.

Clad in his old clothing once more, he then set to work whitewashing the walls with a long-handled, soft bristle brush. The whitewash dried within a day's time and the old hobbit applied two fresh coats of Robin's Egg Blue paint to the four walls.

As with the varnish, Bilbo took his time and was very careful not to get any paint on any of the wood paneling in the room, or the moulding, window frame, or mantel and fireplace. He was careful to wipe up any paint drips immediately. The only mishap he encountered was accidentally stepping back in the narrow closet as he worked and getting paint in his curls and on his backside. That, and the flecks of blue paint that flew from his brush only to land in his foothair as he painted. Oh yes, and there had also been that close call he’d had with the paint tray as well, nearly stepping back into it as he’d admired his work.

When he was done, he removed the old bed sheets and tarp he had laid on the finished hardwood floor for protection and left the window open to air out the strong odor of the fresh paint. After a hearty supper, Bilbo climbed into a hot bath and soaked his sore muscles, his body unaccustomed to such labor. He also washed his curls, but it would take him several more baths during the week until he was able to wash all of the blue paint out of the thick hair of his head and feet.

* * * * *