First Drawing I’ve Ever Shared On Tumblr Is A Quick Bilbo Sketch That I Just Found Funny

Hear me out

this totally happened in the movie dw

never forget when saruman literally told gandalf "you've been smoking too much weed bro"

Omg I crack myself up. Please tell me someone else enjoys this as much as I did making it.

I am going to make a semi official announcement on my in no way shape or form official Tumblr account.

Only because I need help.

My current fic has been going by the names ‘I Have Your Back’ or ‘I’ll Carry You’ for the five years it’s been in progress, but I’ve never been as happy with the name as my other fic (which I’ll discuss at a later date).

So I’ve come here to ask for advice or suggestions! As well as any ideas for the fic in general that you’d like to see played out.

And I know that context will be needed for the naming ideas, so here is a little sneak peak:

Chapter One: An Unexpected Party

————

‘Damned Dwarves and damned Wizards’ was all that Bilbo could think as his mind reeled from the throwing of his mothers West-Farthing pottery, and the song that he seemed very rude indeed.

And now, with the three hard knocks on his beautiful, freshly painted door, Gandalf the Grey expects him to welcome more?

He followed complacently regardless, mostly to ensure no more damage was going to be done. Though he doubted these bastards would listen if he tried to stop them.

And goodness he’d tried.

As Dwarves crowded behind in each of the doorways, peeking out enthusiastically, Bilbo mentally prepared himself and prayed for the night to soon be over.

He watched Gandalf bend over and open his door with a wide smile… too happy for his liking.

And outside.

Stood three bloody Dwarves.

They stood in a lineup, looking bloody majestic, looking bloody handsome, looking… ARG! What was he thinking!

He was looking at three Dwarves, wearing the same thick cloaks that made them look massive, same fur lining underneath, even same oil black wavy hair and similar beards.

From eyes to stature, from face to clothing.

They were identical.

Each turned their heads and eyes to the old man greeting them, and they all smiled charmingly.

The one on Bilbo’s right lit up and grinned wider then his companions.

The left one smile fondly with tired eyes and head tilted up high.

Then the forefront and centre, turned his lowered head and smirked. Bowing his head slightly in some form of greeting.

“Gandalf,” his voice broke through the silence, before he took a step into the light, his comrades right behind him.

There was no way they weren’t related.

Now that they were in the light, Bilbo could see certain things clearer.

The head of the trio was certainly older, a couple of grey strands shone in the candle light from his mane of hair, accompanied by two thin braids on either side of his perfectly carved face, which bore more then his fair share of stress lines.

Lefty bore a single beard braid at the chin, alongside hair parted into two large braids. Mostly resembling the centre Dwarf in stature, expression and… well, everything except the greying hairs.

Righty was certainly the easiest to tell apart, he remained grinning as he stepped into the light , hair tied up in, what Bilbo could recall to be two bubble braids on either shoulder, there was the faintest of a scar that he could only see for moments turned in the right light that ran across his face and over his nose, accompanied by moustache braids similar to… what’s his name? Kili or Fili? Regardless, there were less signs of stress and age, his youth thoroughly shown in his bright, puppy-like expression.

“You’ll never believe why we were late,” the cheerful one had a chuckle in his voice.

The single beard braided one joined in grinning as the eldest scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We let Thorin lead the way.”

“We got lost only twice, this time.” Thorin swung off his cloak in a fluid motion.

“Good thing Dis has an eye for detail,” bubble braid snorted. “Surely that mark was yours.” He questioned Gandalf.

Mark? That can’t be right.

Before he could speak up at all, he stepped forward only to bump into Dis, then Gandalf, then the still unnamed one and finally into Thorin before two hands on either shoulder clasped him steady. The Wizard and the Bubbly one.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he stood up tall as they both let go of him. He swept his long sleeved arm from him to the trio, all cloakless and lined up once more.

“Allow me to introduce the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

The eldest turned, and dark eyes looked Bilbo up and down… Inspecting him.

“His brother, Crown Prince Frerin”

The cheery one smiled politely. A sparkle in his eyes as he raised his hand in a tiny wave.

“And his sister, Lady Dis of Ered Luin”

“A pleasure,” she replied with a respectful nod.

Gosh he’d heard that Dwarven Ladies bore beards, which is more than most Hobbits could accomplish, but this was quite humorous and astonishing.

Thorin, slowly took two steps forward, making Bilbo’s tongue feel heavy in his mouth as he towered over him. Arms crossed, scoffing as he looked down on him.

“This is the Hobbit?”

And before the Hobbit could retaliate, feeling his blood boil at the ugly ego that somehow outshone his attractiveness.

The leader of this Dwarven mess, was whacked cleanly across the back of his head.

His sister glared at him and Frerin wheezed.

Maybe… there were some Dwarves that Bilbo Baggins could tolerate.

————

Here we go! This scene alone has been rewritten to death but now I am somewhat happy with the result.

Enjoy my friends and I hope to hear your opinions, advice and suggestions! Or just a simple hello 😊

Some stories don’t just entertain you, they shape you. They become part of your inner mythology, quietly influencing how you see the world and yourself. For me, The Lord of the Rings was one of those stories. Long before I understood its depth, I felt its weight. It wasn’t just the adventure or the battles or the magic. It was the sense that there was a vast, ancient world just behind the curtain of this one, full of language, loss, and quiet courage. And I wanted to live there. Not just visit, but understand it, piece by piece.

I started with The Hobbit. It’s technically a children’s book, but to me, it felt like something far older and more mysterious. What first grabbed me weren’t the goblins or Gollum. It was the Dwarven runes. I spent an entire night translating the symbols on the cover, realizing some of the letters matched the title. I didn’t even know what I was doing, but I was obsessed with cracking the code. Only later did I find out the introduction explained it all. But by then, I had already figure out every letter's equivalent English glyph.

That moment set something in motion. I wasn’t just reading a fantasy story. I was beginning a lifelong fascination with language, symbols, and the hidden layers of storytelling. When the films came out, it felt like the world I had only imagined had suddenly stepped into reality. The scale, the emotion, the music, it swept me away.

From there, I started learning Elvish. Not because I thought I’d ever use it, but because I wanted to understand it. I wanted to sit with the same beauty and care Tolkien poured into every word. The way his languages were rooted in history and myth made Middle-earth feel like a place you could find on a map if you just looked hard enough.

That curiosity pulled me deeper. I started reading the expanded works. The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, the appendices, the letters. I wanted to know about the First Age, the Valar, the ancient wars and sorrows that shaped the world long before Bilbo ever found the Ring. I was drawn to the tragedy and grandeur of it all. The way history echoed forward, how the light of the Two Trees still touched the edges of the Third Age like a fading memory.

Some of my earliest and most enduring friendships were forged over The Lord of the Rings. We traded favorite characters like sacred names, debated Elves vs. Dwarves like it actually mattered, and built elaborate inside jokes steeped in Middle-earth lore and behind the scenes trivia from the films. When I got into D&D, I couldn’t help but carry that influence with me. I made characters with the moral weight of Númenórean kings or the quiet resilience of a hobbit far from home. I didn’t want to just play the game. I wanted to tell stories that felt like they could have been whispered into a campfire by an old ranger on watch.

And to this day, I still wear a silver One Ring replica I got in middle school. It’s not flashy, but it’s meaningful. A tiny symbol of a much larger world that continues to live in me. A reminder that the stories we grow up with don’t always stay on the page. Sometimes, they become part of who we are.

The Lord of the Rings taught me that true strength often looks like perseverance, not power. That hope can exist even in the face of sorrow. That history matters. Not just the grand heroic moments, but the quiet choices that echo across time. It made me believe in the power of language, the weight of promises, and the beauty of stories that dare to dream of a better world. Middle-earth may be fictional, but the way it shaped me is very real. Tolkien didn’t just build a world. He built a doorway. And I’ve been walking through it ever since.

obsessed with the concept of Dwarven Ones and Thorin knowing Bilbo was his One from the first time he saw him and being EXTREMELY unhappy about it up until Bilbo proves himself/saves Thorin's life after the goblin caves

don’t attempt to be cute if you’re easily spooked or have siblings with the tendency to ignore your privacy wandering about

This is sending me like why are they attacking him 😭😭😭

First non Hobbit related Post because this is perfect

the scene where odysseus kills the suitors is very dramatic and all but like. he’s got no clothes on????

i arrive on ithaca

bow: strung

disguise: off

dick: out