One of the earliest moments that made me laugh and also feel for Bilbo was when the dwarves basically stormed into his house, eating his food, making plans, and treating him like part of their adventure without him even agreeing.
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien always feels like one of those stories where you’re just sitting with someone, and they’re telling you a tale that’s both cozy and dangerous at the same time. It starts in such a simple way—Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit who honestly wants nothing more than to stay in his little hobbit hole, eating good food and living quietly. That’s the funny part: Bilbo is the least adventurous person you can imagine, but Gandalf, this tall, wise, slightly mischievous wizard, decides otherwise. Suddenly, Bilbo is dragged into this company of dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield, and before he knows it, he’s on this wild journey toward reclaiming a lost kingdom.
One of the earliest moments that made me laugh and also feel for Bilbo was when the dwarves basically stormed into his house, eating his food, making plans, and treating him like part of their adventure without him even agreeing. You could just see how out of place he was, fidgeting, nervous, trying to say no, but at the same time curious. That’s what I loved—deep down, Bilbo wanted something more, even if he didn’t admit it.
Their meeting with the trolls was the first actual twist that made me stop. It was an awkward but somewhat humorous experience. The trolls were discussing how to eat their dwarves, and, in the first instance, Bilbo attempts to play the role of the burglar they believe he is supposed to be. Naturally, he gets it wrong, yet Gandalf is smart enough to get himself into trouble to lure the trolls so that the sun could convert them into stone. That scene made an impression on me--it demonstrated that Bilbo was not prepared yet, but it also gave a clue that he could take everyone by surprise.
Then comes Rivendell. Oh, it is one of those refining places--beautiful, peaceful, wise. Elrond reads under the moonlight the map which Thorin brought, and reveals the secret about Durin’s Day, and you feel, at least for a little while, the burden of all that will happen pressing down on the company. It is as though the trip is not only about gold, but even destiny.
The situation is worse with the goblins in the Misty Mountains. The mood is totally different, it is wild, threatening, and frankly frightening. Bilbo loses the company and it is at this juncture that one of the most recognizable scenes occurs: his encounter with Gollum. So fierce was the riddle game between me and the other. It was not merely a question of winning--it was a question of survival. Gollum was strange, pathetic, and harmful simultaneously. And how Bilbo finds the power of the One Ring, and he doesn’t even know how heavy it is--it gave me chills. I recall thinking, Wow, this little moment would make all the difference not only to Bilbo, but also to the world.
After that, Bilbo slowly begins to change. He becomes braver, more clever. The scene with the spiders in Mirkwood really hit me because, for the first time, Bilbo isn’t just surviving—he’s rescuing others. He fights with Sting, names his sword, and saves the dwarves. That moment made me realize Bilbo wasn’t the same hobbit who panicked at the thought of leaving his house. He had grown into someone you could rely on.
But then, there’s Thorin. His pride, his obsession with the treasure, and especially the Arkenstone—it creates tension. You can feel how much he cares about his people and their legacy, but also how greed poisons his heart. When Bilbo secretly takes the Arkenstone, I felt torn. On one hand, I understood Bilbo—he wanted peace, he wanted to stop the madness. On the other hand, betraying Thorin, who had come to trust him, was heartbreaking.
And of course, Smaug. That dragon was magnificent in its presence alone. It was tremendous when Bilbo crept into the mountain and had that dialogue with Smaug, the danger of it, the cunning of the dragon, and the boldness of Bilbo to stand there and outwit him. Smaug was not a monster, but he was a deceiver, nearly of royal court in his threat. The carnage he causes later in Lake-town was devastating, but it also indicated how deeds reverberate long beyond the expedition of the company.
I am always moved by the last part. The Battle of the Five Armies is huge, disorderly, and grotesque. Thorin becoming mad, the so-called dragon sickness, is such a painful twist. And when he reconciles with Bilbo on his deathbed, it is so bittersweet. Thorin acknowledges that Bilbo, the meek hobbit, was correct all of the time--that kindness, peace, and plain delights are treasures more precious than treasure troves. I always find that line touching, as it is such a human truth.
It is nearly more depressing than any of the battles by the time Bilbo gets back home. His neighbors do not perceive him as such. Something has happened to him, but they cannot comprehend it. That struck me--it made me consider how sometimes, having gone through big things, you come home and everything is different, and you are different, because you have changed.
I find the most fascinating thing about The Hobbit is that it makes a person believe in the bravery of an average person. Bilbo begins to be small, ignored, underrated, even to himself, but in the process, he demonstrates that even the most silent individual can turn the tide of great events. And, frankly, it also made me think about myself as well. How many times have I not gone outside my comfort zone because I feared the unknown when perhaps, just perhaps, it might lead me to something else that is even greater?