Colour tattoo of the character Gollum with wide eyes and yellow teeth, in bold black outlines, on the upper arm.

Gollum portrait on upper arm

Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A cartoon-style portrait of the fantasy character Gollum, showing a bald head with a few strands of hair, large staring eyes with blue irises, a wide open mouth with yellow teeth, and a hunched neck and shoulder. Bold black outlines define the features, with soft brown and pink shading across the face and skin tones. The design fills the centre of the frame on the upper arm, against a plain, slightly out-of-focus background.

Upper arm Character Face Portrait

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and mind the kettle. You'll want the lamp turned low for this, because the thing I'm telling about lived where the light never reached, down in the mud under the Carrick slipway, where the old ferry cables rust into the weed.

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Old Tam Greaves found it the winter the herring went north. He was out at low water with a lantern, scraping for cockles, when something pale came up through the silt to look at him. Bald as a boiled egg it was, with a few grey strings of hair stuck to its skull, and eyes so wide and wet they seemed pinned open. Its mouth was full of yellow stumps, and it muttered to itself in a whisper like a wet sail. It asked Tam how many fish he had in his creel. Tam said none, and the thing laughed until it coughed, because it had counted every fish ever landed at Carrick, and it knew he was lying.

It wanted the brass ring on Tam's thumb, the one his mother gave him before the sea took her. Tam offered a mackerel instead. The creature took the fish, then the ring too when Tam looked away, and sat on the slipway three nights running, asking the tide riddles until the tide grew bored and went out for good.

Now mind, that's the story as I had it from my grandfather, and he had it from a man who swore he'd been there. On still nights you can still hear it at the slip, counting the boats in and out, never once reaching the end of the count. Pass me that cup, Janet. My throat's gone to dust.