Frodo Baggins Drawing Novels & Stories

When she wrestled the bag around to the front, she unzipped it and triumphantly pulled out a rather rumpled looking piece of paper. Alice looked at the drawing and this time, a single tear escaped. It trickled down her cheek before she swiped it away with the back of her hand. “Adam, look,” she said, her voice choked. “It’s us.” I took the sheet of paper. It showed a family grouping drawn in colored crayon. A stick man, a stick woman with a chaotic corona of hair holding a bundle, and a little stick child standing in front. The child had a big smiley face.

We were almost done when Eli appeared in the doorway in his coat and boots with a drawing clutched in both hands. “For the King,” he announced, and held it out to my father. Terence studied it with great seriousness. “Ah. This is excellent work.” “I know.” Eli turned and looked at me. “You can have one too if you want.” “I would love one.” He grinned, flashing two missing teeth right in front, and climbed up into the chair beside mine and pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. He smoothed it out on the table in front of me. It was a drawing of what I assumed was the village: a large yellow circle overhead, a building, and several stick figures standing outside it.

Wren's whole body goes still. The spoon stops halfway to the pot, water hissing against the burner behind her, and for one full second she forgets to breathe at all. "What pictures, baby?" Fern doesn't answer right away. She opens the sketchbook instead, flips past pages of careful, precise drawings, houses and dogs and one recurring sketch of three stick figures holding hands under a tree, until she lands on a page near the back. It's a face. A rough, five-year-old attempt at a face, dark hair, a hard line for a jaw, done in the same grey pencil Fern uses for everything she isn't sure how to name yet.

"The what?" Aiden proudly lifted the parchment, presenting it with a triumphant flourish. It was a masterpiece of terrible stick figures. There was a tall, blocky man with a jagged golden crown, a woman wearing an oversized silver tiara, a small blob representing a little boy, a giant black dog with six legs, a glowing stick figure surrounded by yellow loops, and a final girl drawn with aggressively angry V-shaped eyebrows. Kael let out a long, dry sigh. "Let me guess. The one with the furious eyebrows is your long-lost aunt?"

If I had just have accepted the king mom would still be here. “He drew this…” Richard drew my attention to him, as he held a piece of paper out for me to see, a crayon drawing rested on it. It was quite good actually. “He’s a little artist in the making.” On the paper was a drawing of a a girl with dark hair, she had been given muscles, and her hair was tied in a ponytail that sat right at the top of her head, much like a unicorn horn which made me chuckle with tears still flowing. Is that really how Freddie viewed me? He saw me as this amazing, powerful superhero?

“Hey buddy! How are you?” He bit his lip, suddenly shy. "I'll miss you, Sister! Come back soon.” Before I could reply, he turned to Xeros and handed him something– more like, pushed something into his hand. Before we could ask anything, he darted away. Xeros carefully unfolded the paper, and I found myself peeking over his arm in curiosity. But never could have prepared me for what I found: it was a drawing , with me, Xeros and Adam. Adam had drawn himself smiling in the center, clutching both our hands as we ran through the rain and storms together.

They didn’t look like they were having the time of their lives, frankly. “Not today.” She jumped up, scrambled over to the marble coffee table, and grabbed a sheet of paper from the pile. “I drew her a picture. It’s me and Bertha making cookies. Can you take it to her?” Someone out there might have been able to say no to that face, but he sure couldn’t. He took the picture, two stick figures playing with something that looked like dog doo-doo. Didn’t look like the kid had inherited her mother’s art genes.

“They’re your siblings? I thought they were your kids.” Cassie shook her head. “Speaking of Aaron and Lily, they asked me to give you something.” She tried to wiggle her hand out of Felix’s but he held onto her tightly so she had to use her left hand to fish their drawing from her pocket. When she handed Felix the drawing, he took it with his free hand and carefully unfolded it.

Victor stepped back just enough to appear as though he had only just arrived. Silas collided gently into his leg. “Victor!” Victor forced a warm smile. “Hey there, champion.” Silas held up the drawing proudly. “I made this.” Victor took the paper slowly. Three stick figures. A family. His gaze lingered on the third figure longer than necessary. “Very nice,” he said calmly. Silas pointed to the drawing. “I’m trying to figure out who this one is.” Victor’s smile held steady. “I see.” Silas nodded.

“That’s not necessarily true. Men always want what they can’t have. No matter how fragrant the flowers at home are, they’re never as tasty as the poo on the side of the road.” All sorts of comments reached my ears. Rebecca’s face alternated between pale and ashen. Smiling, I watched them. I was a master at capturing details. I drew that picture with great precision. Every strand of their intertwined hair, and the small mole on Arvid’s shoulder—I had sketched them all. Arvid rushed forward. The color had completely drained from his face. He glared at me with intense hatred. “Are you crazy? What are you trying to do?”