Imladrip House Of Pancakes

NescaFrodo was now safe in the Last Homely Café east of the Sea, the Imladrip House of Pancakes. That house was, as Bilbean had long ago reported, 'a perfect house, whether you like food or coffee, or gossiping or karaoke, or just sitting and playing solitaire or mahjongg best, or a pleasant mixture of them all, with biscuits'. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, anorexia, and acid reflux.

When he woke from his healing sleep, NescaFrodo began to prepare himself for the evening, dressing in the fine clothes that the Elves had laid out for him; well-made garments in the rich brown colour of seasoned coffeebeans that fitted him excellently and complimented his complexion. Looking in the mirror he was startled to see a much thinner reflection of himself than he remembered. He would have to apply himself to dinner and correct the damage done by his inadvertent crash-diet.

There was a knock on the door, and Sanka came in. He ran to NescaFrodo and took his left hand, shaking it heartily.

"Hullo, Sanka!" said NescaFrodo.

"Glory and trumpets, it's fine to see you up and yourself again, sir! I didn't like that Mr. Simmons fellow you were turning into... he made me feel all funny, sir. Gandgulp asked me to come and see if you're ready to come down, and I thought he was joking."

"I am ready," said NescaFrodo. "Let's go and look for some dessert!"

"I can take you to it, sir," said Sanka. "It's a big house this, and very peculiar. Designed by some chap named Escher, I think I heard say. And the staircases like to move."

"Weird," said NescaFrodo.

Sanka led him along several passages and down many steps and out into a high garden above the steep bank of the river. He found his friends sitting in a porch on the side of the house looking east, drinking coffee.

"Hurray!" cried Drippin, springing up when he saw them. "Here is our noble cousin! Make way for NescaFrodo, Lord of the Coffee!"

"Hush!" said Gandgulp, cuffing the young hobbit on the back of his hard little head. "Evil things do not come into this valley, but all the same we should not invite them to tea. The Lord of the Coffee is not NescaFrodo, but the master of the Dark Café of Mordonut, whose franchise is again spreading out over the world! We are sitting in a cozy café. Elsewhere, the coffee is weak and overpriced."

"Gandgulp has been saying many cheerful things like that," said Drippin. "He thinks I need keeping in order. But it seems impossible, somehow, to feel gloomy or drowsy in this place. I feel as if I could sing, if only I hadn't spent the money my folks gave me for music lessons on mandarin orange cheesecake!"

"I feel as though I would like a slice of that myself," laughed NescaFrodo. "Do they deliver?"

"There's better than that here, dear cousin," said Drippin. "You have shown your usual cunning in getting up just in time for a snack."

"More than a snack! A feast!" said MochaMerry. "As soon as Gandgulp reported that you were recovered the baking and steeping began!" Overhead, a bell began to peal, summoning all to the buffet.

The hall of Elground's house was filled with folk; Elves, travelers, Elves, Dwarves, Elves, models, not-ready-for-Primetime-players, more Elves, and of course, the Half-caffs who were NescaFrodo's cousins and friends.

Elground, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon a dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindelano, on the other side sat Gandgulp.

NescaFrodo looked upon them in wonder. Gandgulp, who NescaFrodo thought he knew so well, was wearing a party hat of blue foil, sipping strong Italian espresso.

Glorfindelano was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, like Columbia Roast coffeebeans; his face was fair and appeared way too young to be drinking coffee. He was sipping cappuccino and had a mustache of whipped cream.

The face of Elground was ageless, neither young nor old, though in it was written the memory of many cups of coffee both bitter and sweet. His hair was dark as Grecian Formula could make it, and upon it was set a circlet of silver. He appeared both as a venerable king and a hale and hearty warrior. He was the Lord of Imladrip and mighty among both Cupcakes and Customers.

In the middle of the table, against the woven cloths upon the wall, there was a chair under a canopy, and there sat a lady easy to look upon. So like was she in form of womanhood to Lord Elground that she seemed she must be his gender-nonspecific stunt-double. In truth, she was his daughter, Arwenchiel. Such loveliness in living thing NescaFrodo had never seen before nor imagined in his mind, and he was both surprised and abashed to find he had a seat among all these folk so high and fair. What NescaFrodo did not know was that the place cards had been carefully arranged by the Lady Arwenchiel, so that those who looked on might not notice that he was prettier than she was.

On NescaFrodo's right sat a Dwarf of some importance. On his left sat an Elf. Their placecards read 'Gloinchop' and 'Gildoroy Inglorionion'. Both were ignoring the other and studying their menus.

NescaFrodo picked up his tasseled menu and regarded it. In an effort to alleviate the tension at the table, he leaned toward the Elf and asked, "Do you recommend the pancakes or the French toast?"

Gildoroy looked at him curiously. "Well you should ask, little master! Fluffy are the pancakes of Elgrond's house, but crispy and tender are the French toast slices, dusted with powered sugar and cinnamon. Yet both are high in carbohydrates. It leads one to consider the crêpes... they are definitely the choice of the Eldar... usually."

The Dwarf snorted on NescaFrodo's other side. "Ask not the Elves for advice, for they will answer both yes and no, and they waffle!" Gildoroy casually hooked his foot under one of Gloinchop's chair-legs and gave it a pull. The Dwarf disappeared under the table with a howl.

"Good idea, porkfat," the Elf said airily. "Try the waffles... they do them up a treat here."