Let cup be raised and cream be whipped!
Let steaming coffee now be sipped!
A new day! A coffee day!
And the bread rises!
Lord of the Coffee, Fellowship of the Cup;
Good Help Is Hard To Find
In Breadoras, home of King Karóden of the Men of Yuban, the Fellowship (that was broken and then pieced back together haphazardly minus the smallest bits) stood around, congratulating each other and drinking coffee. But not long did they have to linger, for there was much on Grandélf's mind, and he spoke of it.
To Karóden he said, "It is good that you have decided to join forces with Minas Teabag! If we leave very soon, we can get there before the buffet is closed. But before that, we must go westward to insure that Sacchrineman cannot come up behind us and give a Rohirrim Wedgie. To Isencoaster we must go!"
Karóden nodded, "I will go with you, but first let us have a feast, to honour our guests and enjoy the things in life today that we may not have to celebrate tomorrow!" They agreed and settled down in one of the artfully carved tables in Messhall'd.
"Can I see â mênu?" asked Gemli. "I hope they have something like a vegetable platter." The Dwarf's upper lip was just level with the tabletop.
"Are you telling me you are on a diet?" asked Legolatté with a laugh.
"Of course not! I just figured that you wouldn't want to eat anything with a higher I.Q. than yours!"
Boromocha scanned his menu and said, "Is there anything here that isn't swimming in gravy?"
"Try the shish-ka-bob," said Aromagorn with a smirk. Boromocha kicked him underneath the table.
"Are you folks ready to order?" intoned a bored, feminine voice.
Standing next to their table was a beautiful, delicate-looking maiden with long flowing golden hair, or rather it would have been long and flowing, if it weren't currently wound up into a magnificent bee-hive hairdo. She was clad in a dress of pale blue with a white apron. In one hand she held a pad of parchment and in the other a pot of coffee. Her nametag read "Hi! I'm Mayówyn".
They stared at her, not knowing what to do or say. Apart from Aromagorn's girlfriend Arwenchel and the Lady Godivariel, this was the first female they had seen in Middle girth. They were struck dumb with amazement.
She returned their stares for a moment, then she said, "I'll come back when you're ready to order..."
All the menfolk suddenly stood up to be polite, except Gemli, who's bucket was stuck in his booster chair.
"M'lady," purred Boromocha, taking the coffee pot from her and kissing her hand suavely. "Greetings from Gondaroma! I'm a prince, you know."
Legolatté uttered the Elvish phrase in appreciation of great mortal beauty and grace, "Húbba! Húbba! Húbba!"
The Lady Mayówyn blushed demurely and then slapped both of them silly. "I don't get paid enough for this," she muttered. "What'll it be, Princes Charming?"
Aromagorn said, "I'll have the King of Gondaroma Special, please."
"Make that two," said Boromocha, "Mine with no gravy."
Gimli ordered for himself and Legolatté, saying, "We'll have the Garden Gnome Salad and some red meat on the bone. Please tell me you have malted beer."
"How about a malted milk, junior?" she patted Gemli on his little round head.
Grandélf asked, "Are you still serving breakfast?"
Mayówyn popped her chewing gum, "That depends on when you last ate," she said dryly. Boromocha gazed at her dreamily.
"I'll have the Istari Omlette, eggwhites only, whitebread toast, and a cup of milk."
"Chocolate or white?" asked Mayówyn as if she couldn't guess.
"White, skimmed, please," the wizard clarified.
"You're taking this 'The White' business kinda far, don't you think, Grandélf?" asked Aromagorn.
Mayówyn noted everything on her parchment pad, slopped their cups half-full of coffee whether they ordered it or not, and then swept off to the kitchen, where she paused before a small window and shouted, "Hey, Héomer! Gimme two Steward Coup d'grais, one hold the ooze, a Mow the Lawn, a Braize á Beefcake, and a Second-shift Shingle with a scrambled egg."
"All that you say is strange," said Héomer, from beneath his hairnet, "Yet you speak the truth, that is plain. Men of Yuban do not lie, and therefore are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?"
Mayówyn cocked her head at him. "Ever since I got the upper-hand in the films you have been sulking around like a spoilt little boy. Isn't it enough that you get to be King of Yuban later?"
"No," pouted Héomer, "I didn't get to tell anyone I was the Third Marshal of the Riddermarket, Karóden stole all my best lines, and I don't even get to wear a crown to the Coronation Ceremony. It's not fair! Just because you're the only woman in Middle girth that isn't spoken for! That's discrimination, that is!"
Mayówyn rolled her eyes and walked away, saying, "I'm going on break, bro... keep an eye on the lunatics at table number 2 for me... I am going to go stand in the wind for a while..."