Frodo Baggins Drawing Novels & Stories

He had drawn something. It was a circle with a line through it—the symbol of the High Code of the Silverfangs. But he had drawn it backward.

Coco hesitated, wondering if she should just leave. Then, she grabbed her bag and took out a notepad and a pen. Coco drew a cartoon character on the paper and handed it to Lucas. "Here, this is for you. I hope you'll feel better." Lucas lowered his gaze to the paper she had handed to him. Coco had drawn a simple cartoon character of him. With a few simple strokes, she had captured his facial features precisely. The eyes bore a significant resemblance to his eyes, allowing others to recognize him in the drawing.

It transitioned to the animals and humans that they co-exist. After that, the drawings became different again. There is this huge tree on a detailed carving. The shape of its veins became familiar to me similar to Venenata Negra. So I realized that that was the tree. I saw drawings of fairies. I frowned because when I saw that the fairies tried to cut down the big tree I don't know what the reason was. But the fairies did not succeed in cutting Venenata Negra.

Trey asks. "Huh?" his comment flies way over my head. "It's a character from The Lord of the Rings. He carries an axe," Finn deadpans like its knowledge everyone should know. "The one with all those walking trees, right?" I ask. Trey's face turns to shock at my question, but I can't tell if it's because I know the movies or maybe I called them the wrong objects. Are they not trees? They're tall and have leaves. Everything screams tree. Well, except the fact they walk and talk, but everything else is pure tree.

It would be cruel to me. I'm surprised the wolf listened to me. From behind, I watched it as it looked at the two men escape as if it regretted its action of listening to me. The creature then slowly turned around and walked past me, heading further into the woods. I followed him. Pausing under a tree, I watched as he made his way towards a cliff and halted near the edge of it. The moon shone brightly down on its body, allowing me to see its dark and light grey fur with tints of black and brown clearly.

go grab a knife? "Assie! Hurry up, it's me!" Bram shouts, making a wave of relief hit me. Fucking hell. As soon as I open the door, Bram gives himself permission to barrel in, "Get out of the way, Frodo." "What are you doing here so early?" I ask, getting out of his way when I see he's carrying a lot of shit on his arms. Including a huge duffle bag and a fucking hockey stick, "What even is this?"

The rabbit had been mended multiple times, each stitch a testament to the years of comfort it had provided. "Mommy!" Dorothea's voice was soft and sweet, her eyes bright with excitement. She shoved a freshly drawn picture toward the camera, pressing it so close to the lens that it blurred for a moment before she pulled back. On the paper, drawn in thick, heavy black crayon, stood a figure—tall, impossibly straight. It had no face, just a blank oval where features should have been. But behind its broad shoulders, a pair of enormous black wings spread wide across the page like a dark shroud. The wings were drawn with intense pressure, the crayon laid down so thickly that it left a slight textu

I knocked on Daniel’s door, heart thudding like it owed me money. Silence. “What?” I heard him say after a while. “Can I come in?” I asked. More silence. Finally, the door creaked open. He looked tired. A little defeated. But he didn’t slam the door in my face, so that was a win. “I come bearing peace offerings,” I said, holding up the calendar. He stared at it. “Is Frodo… wearing a sombrero in July?” I nodded. “Freya’s got a tiny inflatable pool float in August.”

she says, reaching into her backpack. She produces a drawing. The drawing shows four figures in a garden. One is tall in a white coat, two are small—one with spiky hair, one with a rabbit—and a fourth figure stands slightly apart, rendered in careful, dark crayon strokes. The labels are clear: Mama. Maple. Me. And for the fourth: The sad man. "That's our family," Rosy says. The word hits me where I am not protected. I keep my face completely frozen, a skill that costs me more in this moment than it ever has. I look at that fourth figure, standing on the edge of the page.

he asked, a proud look on his face as he lifted the piece of paper further to show her. On the paper was a drawing of what looked like a sad girl with long hair, wearing a crown and with her hands all scribbled out. She was standing on a flat green field, a sun in the top corner of the page with a smiley face drawn on it. "Aw, that is so nice. Is it a princess?" Rose asked, looking at Max who instantly frowned. "No" he pouted "it's Uncle Fred" he said, pointing to what Rose had thought was a girl, but was just Fred drawn with his hair loose.