Frodo Baggins Novelas e Histórias

"His name shocked Eryndor 'How has the tree come to know my name?' As he was still regaining his consciousness, Eryndor blurted out: 'Who's there?" Youngling's young greenish leaves trembled, releasing a faint and smothe rustle, as Elderwood's gentle voice enveloped her. 'Eryndor will save me, won't he?' she whispered, her delicate petals unfolding like tiny hands clasped in prayers. A tender shoot of hope sprouted within her, its tender tip reaching for the warmth of promise. Her roots deepened, clinging to the earth, as if unwilling to let go. "May I live long!"

I took his hand and shook it, hoping handshakes were a thing here. Apparently, they weren't, because he gave me a curious look. The man looked over at Fynn, who shrugged. "She's not from here," he explained vaguely to his friend. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, ma'am," the man greeted. "I'm Ragnar, son of the dwarves of Mistril Mountain."

Dan raised an eyebrow, challenge clear in his voice. Freya's grin widened. "Well, we've got three hours of movie ahead of us. Plenty of time for a rematch." Dan's eyes darkened with desire. "Careful what you wish for, Anderson. I might just take you up on that offer." Freya shivered, not entirely from the chill. She took another bite of pizza, watching the screen as Gandalf and Pippin rode into Minas Tirith. "You know," she mused, "I always wondered how they managed personal hygiene on these long quests. No showers, limited supplies..."

"Hobbit is one of the 7 dwarves?" Mr. Anton asks laughing and Oliver must be about to pass himself off laughing so hard. "No... it's... from the movie Lord of the Rings," Oliver says between laughs. "Yeah..." Mr. Anton says and starts laughing. "I may not be a giant, but I'm pretty! You're a mess, Oliver." I say angrily, sitting down on the bench. "Easy, little one..." He says laughing and I'm grateful when I see that we've just arrived at the airport.

“If something intelligent is pushing from the other side, brute force won’t hold forever.” Fenrir studied me carefully. “You’re changing.” “Learning,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.” A ripple of energy passed through the grove. From between the trees stepped a figure cloaked in pale green light. The figure was tall, graceful, unmistakably an elf. His hair was silver, braided with living leaves. His eyes were sharp, ancient, and very aware. He bowed to Fenrir first. “My prince,” he said. “You return at last.”

He places his hand inside his left jacket, taking out his reading glasses and placing them back on his face. He makes his way inside the building towards his dorm. At the entrance to his stairway awaits his childhood friend Brandon. A young boy who is the total opposite of his. Brandon is known by most people. He's popular and outgoing. Dark brown hair and toned fair-skinned, with a sculpted body he likes to show off. Although Russell is in better shape than he is, and could probably kick his ass in an instant. But no one knows of Russell's hidden talent and a favorite hobby of illegal underground cage fighting.

"Now, where is Petros?" As if on cue, a young man burst in, his long hair as silver-white as Eden's and bound back with braids. He wore pants and tunic of emerald with a sword strapped to his side. He pulled a chair out from the table and flopped into it. "That's the last time I do you a favor, cousin." "Kind of you to join us, cousin," Eden replied. "What news of the chase?" "Well, I found Curzon's tracks after you sent him running but—" Petros caught sight of Violet. "Hello, who's this warrior?"

Certainly not. "My son, Theoden, is a year older. He sustained an injury when he was a kid which resulted in him staying back at home for an entire year. But it was for the best because he joined his sister the next year. He loves science and sports and over the years, he has won so many trophies. But don't worry, you'll love him"

It was as if she had a needle stab right through her. She was face to face with the man that chased her all the way from the alley. He looked disgusting under the yellow light. Willow assumed his teeth were a dark shade of yellow but under the light they looked brown with spots of black. His black eyes narrowed ,as he squinted at her . His long beard and dirty brown hair blew wildly in the wind. He looked as if he was a washed up pirate and this made Willow shiver. The only things he missed was an eye patch and a wooden stump for a leg.

The next few days are more hectic than our previous routine. The elves are more alert and more protective, surrounding me when we travel. They don’t let me leave to take a bath by myself. It is always Balin who accompanies me when I wash myself in the nearby stream or river. The more time I spend with the three of them is beginning to give me an insight into their personalities. Idril is more abrupt and short tempered. Aldon is calmer but more wary. Balin is the more levelheaded of the three and has a calm temperament which makes him the most dangerous of the three. He’s also the oldest of them all, by his own admission.