a few months ago I bought this incredibly cute children’s book called “The Storm Whale” by Benji Davies. the style is really inspiring and super adorable so I tried painting that way. I made lots of doodles of Bilbo and the dwarves but this one’s the only drawing I actually finished :’D
So I had some time to draw some more Battle Ready Baggins. This time, its inspired by a movie - for those of you who’ve seen ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’, you remember the drinking challenge in the mountains with ol’ Harrison Ford’s love interest? Yup, that kind of scenario.
“It was shortly after Bilbo almost faced death at the small village celebration that he found himself once again at another local tavern drinking far too much than his little hobbit body should.
However, this wasn’t for fun - this was a challenge.
Let’s backtrack for a moment - that next morning at the small village after the celebration; Bilbo, despite the hangover, had gotten up early to beat Thorin and his company out of the village.
Bilbo really cared for Thorin and for the dwarves, he really did. But there was a quest he had to make and it was something he had to make alone. His trust in the dwarf king was quite minuscule, however it was more that he didn’t want to endanger Thorin and the company rather then his trust.
This was going to be dangerous then the journey to Erebor.
So, mounting his horse, Bilbo made a dash out of the village as fast as he could. He felt quite smug, snickering to himself and quietly speaking, “Silly dwarf.” He continued to make his merry way down the path towards the next settlement, pulling out his pipe for a smoke as he rode his horse.
It wasn’t till a few hours late that he realized that he was being followed. He took off to hide and surprise his followers by hiding up in a tree, Sting ready in his hand. Though when his stalkers came into view, he grounded his teeth with a curse.
Thorin couldn’t help the grin on his face when he looked up to the tree. Blasted Wizard, Gandalf had tipped them off.
Bilbo kept his distance as Thorin and company followed. When they had finally reached the next settlement - a much larger town by a wide river - Bilbo made his way to the local tavern the minute he found his lodging.
All he wanted was his quiet time, he wanted to be left alone. No dwarves, no Wizards, and no Elves.
Not today - Thorin had entered the tavern with the company, though he made his way to the bar. Bilbo was ignoring him, smoking his pipe and running a figure around the rim of his small cup of ale.
A large bottle of hard liquor had been placed in front of him and Bilbo looked up to see Thorin to sit at the table across from him. Before he could object, Thorin presented a challenge.
“I know you tire of our presence, so I’m willing to make a deal,” he tapped his finger on the table, “Actually - a wager.”
Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, nodding for Thorin to go on.
“If you can outdrink me before this bottle is empty, then I will leave you be and return to Erebor.”
Bilbo smirked, though before he could say anything, Thorin continued, “However-”
“If you lose, you must sign a contract stating we - the Company of Thorin Oakenshield - are to accompany you to Mordor until that blasted trinket is thrown into the fire.”
Bilbo was silent as he mulled over the details. Thorin had extended a hand, “Do we have a deal?”
The hobbit looked down to the larger hand, then smirked, “Deal.”
And that is how he found himself, one single shot glass away from possibly winning this blasted wager.
Oh he tried to find ways to prevent himself from seeing double, using his swift hobbit reflexes to ‘accidentally’ spill his drink and switch it out with water from his leather canteen, or causing a distraction by spreading insults around the bar to raise a bar fight. In other words - Bilbo Baggins was trying to cheat. And why wouldn’t he? There weren’t exactly any rules to HOW the liquor was suppose to leave the bottle. He was simple trying to save himself the time.
That is until Legolas had caught him AND Thorin cheating. Apparently Thorin was using his nephews took switch out the drinks with their own distractions - the boys were good with that of course. Legolas had promoted himself to moderator, so now they were both left no choice but to actually DRINK this hard liquor sitting between them.
The bottle was tall, and so it was at least fifteen or so shots later that got him to this point. He was starring at the shot glass, forcing himself out of sheer will to raise the glass in his hands. He brought it to his lips, tipped his head back, and the burning liquid ran down his throat.
When slamming the glass down top first onto the table, he promptly put his hands on his hips and gave his best, albeit goofy grin.
The dwarves - Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bofur were just starring at him, a mix of bewilderment and concern on their faces. Legolas had a hand to his mouth, eyeing Bilbo with a rather worried looked on his face. Gandalf however was curious.
“Did he really finish it?” Bofur asked.
“I think that was the last shot,” Fili said, a smile growing on his face, “Well done Bilbo!”
“To think! We had our doubts!” Kili declared.
Thorin sat in silence, inwardly regretting this whole decision. He could see that Bilbo was grinning, though he had the distinct feeling that something was wrong.
Bilbo gave a hiccup and promptly fell off the chair.
The dwarves panicked -
“Oh Mahal we killed him!” Kili cried.
Thorin rose from his chair to tend to Bilbo, Bofur and Fili went to the bar to grab some water, and Kili was just panicking. Before the hobbit lost consciousness, he felt himself being carefully lifted from the ground.
The next morning came slowly to Bilbo as he opened his eyes to the sun shinning on his face. He groaned, feeling his whole body swaying as saw the trees pass by. Wait - trees?
Bilbo lifted his head up from the comfy fur he had been resting on and found that it was the fur of Thorin’s coat. And Thorin was in front of him, riding on his pony - or rather he was riding with Thorin on his pony.
Bilbo looked back, seeing Fili and Kili on their ponies and leading his horse behind them. Kili waved, “Good morning Bilbo!” and all Bilbo could do was blink in confusion.
He looked back to Thorin, gripping onto his coat again when he felt the dizziness cross over his vision. “Why am I here?” he rasped out, “I won that bloody wager.”
“Not exactly,” Thorin looked over his shoulder to the hobbit. He leaned over to the pouch by Bilbo’s leg, and pulled out the empty liquor bottle, “You didn’t finish the bottle.”
And true enough, there was just a bit left within the glass. It would be just enough for Thorin to have a taste. Bilbo had indeed lost the wager.
“I’ll be requiring your signature on the contract when we reach a resting spot,” Thorin spoke, almost sounding smug, “In the meantime, get some rest.”
Bilbo only groaned, his head collapsing onto the fur coat.
“Stop the horse.”
“It’s not a horse, it is a pony. And no, I will not.”
“Please stop the PONY.”
A sigh, “Why?”
“Because if you don’t want me to puke all over that majestic fur coat of yours - Oh KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN - then you’ll stop the bloody pony or you’ll be King under the VOMIT!” ”
Oof. That was long.
And thank you @ickaimp for the lovely idea of hobbits and dwarves cheating at a drinking game. Also the vomit part too in the dialogue. :)
We think that being confident, being happy, should be as easy as putting on a light switch. But self-love isn’t that easy. Living authentically, free of shame, is more like stumbling toward a motion sensor light in the dark. You have to advance forward, to a target you can’t see, but trust that you'll ultimately get to. The only thing that will turn that light on is your movement, your action.
When will we stop insisting that inside a fat woman exists a thinner, better version of herself just trying to claw her way past the belly flab to get out? There is no thin woman inside of ME. I am fat through and through, and the only reason I was able to transform from a miserable fat woman to a happy fat woman with a successful career and a whole lot of love in her life is because I decided to quit waiting to lose weight and become the woman I knew I could be right now.
A man who disrespects a woman to whom he is not attracted makes obvious that he believes a woman’s sole purpose is to be an object of attraction to him – that conventional attractiveness (thinness) is the ONLY marker of a worthy woman and that a woman who does not fulfill her primary obligation of turning him on is therefore not worthy and has no value.