Apologies in advance to all Ringer lawyers and hot-headed

actors who might be offended by the following parody.

Lord of the Coffee; Fellowship of the Cup
Café-Doom, Journey in the DarkRoast

NescaFrodo stood in the utter darkness of Café-Doom, and wondered why he had chosen to come this way. Surely being frozen to death on the powdered sugar glaciers of Cafolger's Mountain was better than standing in this endless queue. It was worse than Starbrandybuck's mid-morning rushhour!

Behind him, the Dwarf Gemli was humming happily to himself. This was the ancestral coffeeshop of his folk, and he was mighty pleased to be there, even if they were sold out of double espresso cheesecake. "Chin up, NescaFrodo," he said jauntily, as after only 30 minutes the line crept forward 1/4 inch, "I will sing you a song I learned while sitting on my mother's beard. It may help to pass the time. This is the song of Brewin, the Father of the Dwarves:

The Day was young, the tea was green
No stain on tablecloth was seen
No cinnamon rolls or butter'd scones
In Brewin's kitchen yet were known

He made the fruitcake no one eats
And invented lots of other treats
He made a great tureen of coffee
With rolls of almond bark and toffee

Then he set aside his work
To sit with Dwarves and drink blackperk

In Café-Doom he made his shoppe
And Elves and Dwarves would always stop
To drink his brew and eat his éclairs
But word got round to Maxwellcôr's ears

He sent a hoard of Urk-shoppers
Who bought up all the rolls and poppers
And spilled his coffee on the ground
And brought the property values down

Now Brewin' lies in restless sleep
'Til he can get even with that Dark Creep
And Brewin's folk plan their vengeance bold
"A recipe that is best served cold!"

And so the Dwarf ended his song, and the melodic booming of his voice faded slowly, echoing through the long cavernous tea-room.

"Um, that was lovely, Gemli... Thanks! You, uh... don't happen to have your axe handy, do you?" asked NescaFrodo nervously, as he watched the long line of orcs, trolls, gobblings, lawyers, cattle-rustlers, gothpunks, javajunkies, barrow-wights, day-trippers, unemployed actors, and Sean Penn standing ahead of them turn and begin to mutter angrily.

Gemli whipped out his axe, and leaping on top of the espresso bar he exclaimed, "Let them come! There is one Dwarf in Cafe-Doom that still drinks coffee!"

A great melee ensued, and the Fellowship of the Cup fought valiantly, none more so than the Dwarf, who sang as he spilled the brew and scattered the beans of the foe, "Heigh ho! Heigh ho! It's off with your head I go..."

Nearby, Legolatté was delicately slicing horcs with his two bone-handled French-chef knives, and even as he did so, he watched with bemusement as the Dwarf, whom he had hitherto found utterly contemptible, minced the orcs and gothpunks with skill creditable to an Eldar. His dislike for the Stunted One fell away and he joined Gemli, fighting back to back with the violently happy Dwarf.

NescaFrodo was trapped in an alcove, cornered by a great Crave Troll who was attempting to impale the hapless half-caff with a stale brioche. Luckily, Aromagorn was nearby, and persuaded the foul creature to desist, giving him 5 bucks and directions to the nearest Internet Cafe, to participate in a 'live chat' with Richard Taylor.

At last, they fled the chamber of Brewin', dragging Gemli along behind, who would have preferred to remain and miser-cord the semi-conscious lawyers. "It is better to get rid of them now, don't you see that?" he howled as they hustled him away. "They will breed in the darkness of Café-Doom, and before you know it, we will be up to our ears in litigation!"

But alas! The words of the Dwarf were unheeded, and so the Fellowship sped toward the exit, unaware of the foul clotted shadow that lurked, waiting for them in evil delight.