Hobbit Author Novels & Stories

I look at the title quickly and grin. “Hey there,” he says. “We meet again.” “The Hobbit, huh?” I ask, noting the book he’s reading. “Oh,” he looks down at it and back at me. “Yeah.” I could swear he’s blushing. The barista calls me over and I grab my drink before walking back. “First read?” I ask him. “Oh, yes for The Hobbit. I’ve read Lord of the Rings three times,” he stops and adds, “I hope that’s not too nerdy to say.”

He pathetically begged for her to stay. “The name of the protagonist was Bilbo Baggins. He was short, face so comely and he does not like anything related to traveling. So he is indeed a home kind of a fellow. I mean all the people in Shire share the same perspective as him. They are just simple folks in that simple town.” He had read the book too and was pretty sure that it is not translated to any language rather than into Romanian dialect. How can this woman read those kind of books?

"He isn't Rowan anymore. He’s a 'Logic Bomb.' If I don't 'Format' him, he will consume the last of the 'Legacy Data.' He will eat the memory of the Earth itself just to keep himself 'Online.'" I looked at the Author. He looked so kind. So grandfatherly. But then I looked at the desk. Next to his sketchbook was a jar. Inside the jar were thousands of tiny, flickering lights. "What are those?" I asked, my voice a hollow whisper. "Characters," the Author said simply. "The ones who didn't 'Test Well.' The ones who asked too many questions. I keep them as 'Reference.'" I realized then that the Author wasn't a creator. He was a **Hoarder**. He didn't want a "Perfect Life" for me; he wanted a "Perf

A chapter book. The Hobbit. Aurora looked up from where she was tucking Ethan in. "That's... ambitious," she whispered, eyeing the thick paperback. "It's a classic," Liam defended, stepping into the room. "And it has dragons. And treasure. And a very small hero who goes on a big adventure." He looked at Ethan. "What do you think, Tiger? Ready for a real quest?" Ethan’s eyes widened. "Does it have swords?" "Lots of swords," Liam promised.

“But sir, we have no authors and…..” “We have. One for now.” Aslan said excitedly. “Who?” “Phoebe Schmidt.”

“Johnny get your wrinkly self over here, your stupid bell is not working again!” Icahbod frowed. “Is a woman bearing the name Johnny in this century?” “No, why would you ask that?” “You said we were coming to meet a woman.” “Oh yea, he is the one who will bring her to us, she is his daughter but you have to see the father first.” “Oh, ok.” Minutes later, Ichabod could hear a swift movement behind the shelves and out came a short man in a black tail coat and a large hat which made him look like all those wizards you see in movies like Harry Potter.

"The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began, now far ahead the road has gone and I must follow, if I can. Pursuing it with eager feet until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet and whither then? I cannot say." Mr. James: J. R. R. Tolkien. Me: I know. Mr. Jones: Me too, you didn't have to say it, you know (tries to maintain his confident poise as we stared at him in disbelief) He could tell instantly that the quote was from J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of "Lord of the Rings" but why would he someone write it there baffled him. He sure knew that no random person will write that except he's a "little high on the brains" or he's a nerd...

I was surprised she knew the "Have Gun, Will Travel" reference, but she said that she loved Richard Boone's voice ever since she heard him as Smaug in the 1977 animated version of "The Hobbit." Then she scolded me and said I should not change the subject, she was learning here.

Hayden leaned back in his chair, studying me with that easy grin that made my stomach do things it shouldn’t. “So,” he said, “Favorite book of all time. Go.” I groaned. “That’s impossible.” “Top three, then.” I rattled off a few, rambling about why they mattered to me. He listened, actually listened, even though I knew he probably couldn’t tell Tolkien from Tolstoy. Every now and then, he’d ask a question, not just to fill space but because he wanted to know. And somewhere between explaining why The Hobbit was basically a comfort blanket and arguing that fairytales weren’t just for kids, the conversation turned more personal.

she explains, like a real-life chef, grabbing her own sub and taking a normal-person bite, “I knew you’d like it.” “I do. Thanks for making it for me,” I add after swallowing, then I grab one of the beers I bought to make sure I won’t choke. "Okay, so do you want to watch..." "Lord of the Rings," I respond immediately because there’s no other option, "The first one. Then we'll watch the second and make a date to watch the rest of them.” "How many movies are there?" "There's three... then there's three Hobbit movies. We have to watch it in order though, as they were released. That's my favorite way."