Lord of the Coffee: Coffee with Frodo
Yet another sample of the beverage of Parody, brewed with the beans
of my desire, and sweetened with respect for Prof T. Enjoy and help
yourself to some cookies
NescaFrodo stood on the table, trying to attract attention from
Drippin, who was carefully explaining their travel itinerary to nine
bony, black clad figures who were taking notes and holding out small
voice recorders. He began to belt out a song, somehow thinking that
this would preserve his anonymity. What exactly does Barliman serve in
to the metre of The Cat and the Fiddle
There is a cafe, a funny cafe,
Beneath a neon sign
And there the brew coffee so black
That it would give Sauron a heart-attack
If He came in there to dine.
The landlord has a nervous cat
That has a broken tail
It lurks beneath the rocking chairs
And generously sheds it's nasty hairs
Upon my brand-new mail
The olster is a tipsy fool
Who spikes the sugar bowls
Dumps them out onto his head
And fills them up with salt instead
And glues shut all the holes
The beans they have are the finest ground
Superior to all
If you drink a single cup
The caffine will surely sit you up
And then lay you on the floor!
So hang your cloak and join the queue
If there is no one to mourn ya
For certain the coffee keeps you awake
But your last few brain-cells it will bake
Don't say I didn't warn ya!
There was loud and long applause. NescaFrodo had a good voice, and the
song tickled their fancy. "Where's old Barleycorn Butterrum?" they
cried. "He ought to hear this. Let's have it again, little master!"
They made NescaFrodo have another cup of coffee, and then begin his
song again. It was Frodo's turn to feel pleased with himself. He
capered about and when he ended his song, he dismounted with a triple
sommersault and with a half-twist, and came down on top of a dark and
mysterious Ranger who had been trying to communicate to him in
NescaFrodo's audience each held up white cards, with various numbers
rating his performance. A debate broke out about the inclusion of the
Ranger and whether that constituted assistance.
The Ranger quickly threw his cloak over his head and carried him out of
the room while the patrons were arguing about the rules of The Barroom
Olympics, and once he found a quiet room, he closed the door and
"Well, that was a stupid thing to do! Why didn't you just stand up and
say, 'Hi! My name is NescaFrodo and I am carrying a Coffee Ring!' " the
Ranger said brusquely.
"Why? Do you think it would have improved my score?" said NescaFrodo angrily. "Who are you, anyway?"
"My name is Styroamer," he answered, "Don't be alarmed! I have come to
help you. I will guide you to Rivendell Perk. Gandgulp sent me."
"Gandgulp the Grey Wizard? Where is he?" asked NescaFrodo eagerly.
At that moment, Sanka, Drippin, and MochaMerry burst into the door.
Their clothes were torn and their wigs askew. They slammed the door
closed with an effort. Outside a mob of wraiths howled and shrieked and
begged for autographs and photos.
Sanka eyed the Ranger warily. "Who is this clown, Mr NescaFrodo? And
how are we going to get out of here? Those black-robed fans are
positivly rabid. I think they are paparazzi."
"They are worse than that, little half-caff." said Styroamer, "They are
the Nutrilights, the coffeewraiths of Sour'on. They will be watching
the road night and day. You may escape from this cafè and be
allowed to go forward while the sun is up, but you won't get far. They
will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no
security guards. Do you wish for them to find you? They are terrible!
"You fear them, but you do not fear them enough, yet. I will take you
by paths seldom trodden, to Rivendell Perk where you may find help.
What have you got to lose?"
There was a heavy silence. NescaFrodo made no answer, his mind was
confused and his coffee rush was ebbing. He began to doze off. Sanka
frowned and looked at his master; and at last he broke out:
"With your leave, Mr NescaFrodo, I 'd say no! This Styroamer here, he
warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin
NescaFrodo blinked and yawned. "I believe he is a friend, Sanka,
despite his appearance. He has annoyed me several times tonight, but
never in the way that the servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine.
One of Sour'on's spies would-- well, look fairer and feel fouler, if
The half-caffs glanced at the Ranger uneasily. Fairer he could look,
but fouler they couldn't imagine. Maybe NescaFrodo had hit his head
when he fell off of the table.