Forest of Cremehorn
The hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled forest would allow. The air was stuffy, and full of the fragrance of stale coffee beans.
"I want some air!" announced MochaMerry.
"Let's get a drink at any rate," said Drippin, and they clambered down the bank and scooped the steaming coffee from the running stream. It was hot and dark, but strangely sweet. They took many draughts.
"I suppose you have lost us already!" said Drippin, dunking a piece of lembascotti in the stream.
"I have not!" protested MochaMerry, and smacked his friend with a brioche. "We could follow this caffeine stream out of the Forest, but let us go deeper into the trees... I smell cookies."
They walked on, and soon came to a hill where an old tree-trunk stood alone, espresso oozing from the ancient, time- and weather- pitted bark. They were too eager to be surprised at the remarkable way that their vigor had returned after drinking from the natural coffee-spring. They stood beside the trunk and looked out over the trees back the way they had come. The smell of cookies was stronger, and the sunlight was gleaming upon the leaves now. On the fringe of the Forest, tall spires of curling black smoke went up, wavering and floating towards them.
"Drat! We forgot to turn off the oven! Our orc-crapes have burned!" said MochaMerry, weeping.
"What a pity!" said Drippin. "I was just working up an appetite! This shaggy old Forest looks like a good place for a picnic!"
"A good place for a picnic!" boomed a deep voice behind them. "That is uncommonly nice of you! I hope you brought extras!"
The half-caffs turned slowly and looked up in amazement. They found that they were looking at a most extraordinary face. It belonged to a large Cup-like, almost Mug-like, figure, at least 14 foot high, very sturdy, with a tall frothy head and almost no neck, appearing to have been carved out of a mighty tree-bole. "My name is TeaTreebeard. I almost feel that I dislike both of you, but let us not be hasty. Have you any strudel?"
"No, sir!" answered MochaMerry and Drippin in tiny voices, trembling with fear.
"Hroom, Hoom! Well, then... I shall just trod on you and be on my way... smells like BBQ over in Entwash Valley..." he lifted a mighty foot over their heads.
"Wait!" screamed Drippin, cowering. "My friend MochaMerry here makes the best scones you have ever tasted! And the most excellent Beoring Claws, Trollairs, and Oliphant Ears in Middle-girth!"
MochaMerry squealed in terror. "And Drippin here can... well, he's really good at... um, well...give me a moment..." Drippin elbows MochaMerry sharply in the solar plexus. "Oof!.. oh yeah, he brews a great cup of cocoa!"
"Hoom! That is excellent! Come with me, the both of you." The huge vessel of mirth scooped the hobbits into his arms and carried them away, dragging a long tea-string behind.
He began to sing:
When Spring unfolds the Black tea leaf
And Sugar is in the bowl
When light is on the Coffee pot
And the brew is black as coal
When snack is ate and hands do shake
And Coffee-Break is done...
Get back to work!
Get back to work... Or paycheck
you'll get none!