Getting To Know Your Ranger

Sitting in the inn in Brie, NescaFrodo looked around at his friends, very aware still of the dark stare of the Ranger upon him. "I wonder where Gandgulp could be," he murmured aloud. "He said he would meet us here. What can have happened to him?" Behind him, the closed and barred door of the room shook as the wraith-fans threw themselves against the panel, begging for a souvenir or the privilege of bearing children for them.

To Styroamer, he said loudly, "Why did not Gandgulp make mention of you before to me? Who are you really? Can you produce a cover-letter?"

Styroamer shrugged and gestured with his coffee cup for the half-caffs to be seated and relax. "I like to work undercover. Top secret, you know..." and he laid a finger against his nose and winked at NescaFrodo. "Low profile. Gandgulp and I are friends of old. We have traveled very far together, and on many adventures both dark and icky. I have but a single proof to offer that I am who I say I am, but whether you believe it or not is up to you.

"This poem was written for me by someone who is close to you, NescaFrodo of the Shire. For I am Aromagorn, son of Aromatherapy, and these words go with that name..." and the Man began to sing in a rough, low voice:

All that is brewed is not bitter
Who asks for directions is lost
How did I end up a 'hobbit-sitter'?
Dwarves who hesitate soon will get tossed

A Ranger must learn very early
Which cafe's espresso is best
And to drink with pinky down (don't be girly)
Blackperk really puts hair on your chest!"

Aromagorn settled back and eyed his audience for a moment. "Well?" he asked.

Drippin and MochaMerry exchanged bland looks, while NescaFrodo appeared thoughtful, and Sanka was scratching his head.

"I wonder..." NescaFrodo began to say.

"Yes?" prompted Styroamer.

In unison, MochaMerry and Drippin quiped up, "We wonder what you did with the money your parents gave you for singing lessons!" There was a distant rumble of thunder like a rimshot.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Mr. NescaFrodo... I mean, Mr. Coffee... I," Sanka broke off, confused. "What I'm I supposed to call you again?" Sanka blinked and continued, "I'm thinking that your Uncle Bilbean must have wrote that song, sir. It sounds like his words." His eyes were still full of distrust as he looked upon the tall stranger in his coffee-stained travel clothes.

NescaFrodo frowned and glanced at Styroamer. "Is that so? Do you know my uncle?"

"I do. I dwelled for a time in Rivendell Perk. I can lead you there by secret roads, eluding the Nútralites in the wilds. Will you have me?"

Behind them, the door quivered again, as the fans outside began to hammer in earnest against the oak panel, using what sounded like Barleycorn Butterrum as a battering ram.

NescaFrodo caught up his pack and nodded to the others. "We have no choice but to trust him. Lead the way, Longshanks!"

They followed the Man out of the inn and disappeared into the night that surrounded the village, black as chicory bile. As they stumbled along, MochaMerry caught NescaFrodo's arm and whispered hoarsely, "How do you know he is a friend of Gandgulp and Cousin Bilbean? How do you know we can trust him?"

"I don't really know, MochaMerry, but he's got this going for him," answered NescaFrodo, ticking off each point on his fingers, "He's not undead, he's not wearing black shrouds, he doesn't speak in a shriek that would bend metal, and he drinks his coffee with cream and two sugars... that's good enough for me!"