Master Beanbag

Grandélf took Drippin and was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Snackfast were lost in the night. MochaMerry came back to where his companions were waiting. They were ready to ride, for King Karóden had declared that all were bound back to Breadoras, to call a muster of the men of Yuban, and from there to ride on the Minas Teabag and war. Aromagorn waited beside Struedel, his faithful cinnamount; nearby were Gemli and Legolatté with their horse Arid, who, even beneath the combined weight of Elf and Dwarf, never seemed to break a sweat. Boromocha had borrowed a horse from the king, a honey-and-phyllo coloured stallion named Baklava. All except Arid were saddled and ready. Legolatté refused to use such equipment, instead affixing himself and the horse-wary Dwarf in place with a wide strip of Velcro.

MochaMerry handed Aromagorn his pack and allowed the man to lift him into Strudel's saddle. He was a depressed hobbit; his best friend was gone into the night with a Wizard, his cousin NescaFrodo hundreds of miles away, labouring through a horrible land... if he were even still alive, and now MochaMerry himself had to ride through the night listening to Boromocha and Aromagorn continue to argue about city government practices through the 2nd and 3rd Ages of the Sun. He had offered to walk to Breadoras, but they had gently refused him.

"The King of Yuban expects to visit with you on the subjects of nicotine and coffeemate. You must ride with us, at least as far as Breadoras," they had said.

"And then?" MochaMerry had asked. "I won't be left behind, though I could want for a new afterdinner conversation. I have not been much use yet... except for talking the ThermEnts into attacking and destroying Isencoaster, and helping to distract the horcs so NescaFrodo and Sanka could escape..."

"A diversion," said Legolatté, straight-faced. Gemli swatted him between the shoulder blades.

"... yeah, and not to mention all the times I stood watch for you jokers out-of-turn so you could have your little midnight monologues... you owe me! I do not want to be laid aside, like baggage that has broken open during the layover flight, and all your fucia underwear are hanging out for all the airport to see, so that even the customs checkers are giggling. Though, of course, the King did say that he wants me to come to Breadoras and make him some Shire Coffee."

"Yes," said Aromagorn, "It is true that you have been of much use to the Quest, MochaMerry, but I believe that your path lies now with the King. My own road is dark to me; an hour long awaited draws near, and yet that I cannot see how I will come to Minas Teabag."

"You could probably see better if you took off those sunglasses... sunset was an hour ago," Boromocha said. "But I agree with the usurper, I mean... Isillydur's heir; your road, MochaMerry, lies with the King of Yuban.

"I, myself, will ride into the dark ways with you, Aromagorn. You will have much need of my strength on that road. Anyway, if I have to spend another evening watching Héomer polish his helmet, I am going to go stark raving!"

"I also will ride with you, Aromagorn," announced Legolatté. "Me, too, I guess," quipped Gemli. "How do you get this stuff to come loose...?" ZZZZiP! "Ye-Ouch! Hey! watch the hair, toy-maker!"

MochaMerry was loath to part with his companions, especially now that Drippin was gone; he missed his undominatable cheerfulness. But on the other hand, this was an opportunity that might not come again. He feigned resistance, offering 'bambi eyes' to Aromagorn and pleading to stay with him, all the while planning his next move.

They rode all night and reached Helman's Dip in the grey morning. MochaMerry lay down where he was set and slept until he was roused by Legolatté and Gemli. "The coffee is hot," said Legolatté. "All others are up and doing. Come Master Sluggard, and get some danish before they are all consumed!"

"There was a battle here three nights ago," said Gemli, "and here Legolatté and I played a game that I won only by a single horc! Come and see how it was... and the cafés, Merry, cafés of wonder! Shall we visit them now, Legolatté? You promised..."

"Nay, there is no time," said the Elf. "Do not spoil the luncheon with haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace and freedom comes again, and have a picnic and go spelunking. But for now, let us eat and be on our way."

MochaMerry yawned. "Where is Styroamer?" he asked.

"Up in the bistro," answered Gemli. "Some of his kindred have come in the early morning, Dúnadudes from the North, and they take council and donuts together. Stout and straight do they drink their coffee, and the Riders of Yuban look almost like boyscouts beside them, for they are grim and ornery as marines, and silent."

"But even as Aromagorn they are courteous when they break their silence," said Legolatté. "And have you marked the brethren Elladum and Elrodee? They are less tiresome in their garb and diet, and they are fair and gallant as Elven-Lords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elground of Rivendell Perk."

"It is to be wondered how they manage to drink so much coffee and not have shaky hands," commented Boromocha, coming up behind. "Yet they will come in handy when we cross the mountains and come to my City."

"Why have they come?" asked MochaMerry, perking up after his first cup of java.

"Aromagorn wished for them to come, and Godivariel sent a message," said Gemli. At the mention of that Lady's name, he had a dreamy look on his face, and he toyed with his plaited hair, smiling fondly. "There's one Lady that knows how to braid a beard! Legolatté, why did we not think to ask for some of our kindred to come and help with this fight?"

Legolatté stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and east, and his fair face was troubled. "I do not think that any would come," he said sadly. "They have no need to ride for coffee and bagels; already the franchise war marches on their own bagatelles."

The King of Yuban soon called for them, and for MochaMerry in especial. He set the half-caff in a seat beside him, and they spent a pleasant hour discussing the virtues of nutmeg with cappuccino, and MochaMerry showed the kindly old man the proper way to clean a pipe.

"This is not how I would have us spend our leisure, but needs be we ride for wars, and there is no time to linger in the Golden Hall of Breadoras. We will ride soon, and you shall ride with me."

"May I?" said MochaMerry, and he was surprised and delighted. This was going better than he had planned. "That would be splendid! I have been meaning to talk to you about your tactics in war and field attack. Legolatté and Gemli filled me in on the fight here in Helmund's Dip. You did well, but you could have utilized your cavalry better, I think. Have you ever considered a flanking maneuver, rather than the defensive tactic?"

King Karóden frowned, but it faded slowly into a smile. "I did not know that half-caffs studied the arts of war."

"We don't, as a rule," said MochaMerry, casually reaching into his backpack and producing a map and a pointer, a compass and a ruler. "I have acquired a taste for it in my travels, you might say. Plus, I am a huge Richard Sharpe fan, and I have read all of Cornwell's books..." he said as he unrolled the parchment.

The map was of Minas Teabag, detailed down to the bark on the White Tree, and covered with little arrows, circles and notes. "If you don't mind, may I ask how you were planning to break the siege of Minas Teabag?"

"We shall ride down and slaughter the horcs to the last imp!" announced Karóden, to the cheers of the men listening.

MochaMerry smiled indulgently. "An excellent plan, but a flawed one. This is what you should do..." and he pointed and measured and talked, and as the little half-caff spoke, the King's grin got bigger and bigger.

"It just might work..." he was muttering, looking at the paper now covered further with charcoal sketches and raspberry jam, when Aromagorn, Gemli, Legolatté, and Boromocha appeared. MochaMerry swiftly retrieved the map and rolled it up, winking broadly at Karóden and making a 'shhh' finger-to-his-lips gesture.

"I am troubled of mind, my lord," Aromagorn said. "I have heard strange words and laboured long in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose, and take new council for me and my men."

"Oh, that's a pity," said Karóden, tapping his chin with MochaMerry's pointer. "But as you will, Lord Aromagorn. You own council you will take, no doubt. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened for it, but then again, there will be more coffee for us if you take another path. Whither goest thou?"

"I will seek the short-cut through the spooky mountain, as my Lord Elground has advised me."

'Alas, Aromagorn my friend," cried Héomer. "I had hoped that we should ride to war together, and that you would introduce me to some of those handmaidens of Arwenchel's you spoke of; but if you seek the spooky short-cut, then our parting has come!"

"Yet I will take that path, nonetheless, but I say to you, Héomer, that in battle we may yet drink coffee together, though all the Hostess twinkies in Mordonut should lie between."

Héomer smiled, "MmmMmm... twinkies!"

"Goodbye!" said MochaMerry, hustling them out toward their waiting horses. The King followed, for the hour had come when he had ordered his own departure. He clutched the scrolled map to his chest like a precious thing, then waved at Aromagorn before spurring his horse onward. MochaMerry rode beside him on a small white pony (which was actually a large, bleached Irish wolfhound) that matched his stature, named Subwaë.

Aromagorn watched them ride away, shading his eyes from the clouds of dust. "There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least. Nothing funny... I just like them, alright!"

Riding next to Karóden, MochaMerry allowed himself to grin broadly. Finally, he was unsaddled of the endless bickering and ego-matches. He would miss them, he knew, but he had faith that they would all meet in Minas Teabag. He had the perfect plan.

"You shall be my chief General of Tactics, MochaMerry of the Shire!" Karóden was saying. He would have ordered fine armour and arm for the half-caff, but MochaMerry refused carefully.

"Them men would not take orders from a half-caff, my lord, however beloved of their king he might be," MochaMerry said. "Let it be known that I am your esquire, rather, and then you can keep me close and take all the credit. Sound good?"

"Aye, but you shall find a great reward in this, my friend. And tiny Subwaë cannot bear you to war, for many miles of galloping lay between Breadoras and Minas Teabag."

MochaMerry looked around, and with his sharp eyes he noted the King's niece Mayówyn, who had disguised herself as a Man and followed in the King's riding, calling herself Poúpon the Grey. He kept this knowledge to himself, still making his plans. "I will ride with that one, with your leave, sire. He is slight of build and has a comfortable-looking lap. Thus I will come to Minas Teabag and we will spring our trap on Sour'on's multitudes. They will never know what hit 'em!" And so it was agreed.

As they rode on, MochaMerry laugh out-loud. To himself, he said, 'Left behind like baggage indeed! Someone had to run this dog-and-pony show!' He reached and retrieved his travelmug from the cup holder built into Subwaë's saddle-horn. He glanced over at Karóden, suddenly swept with genuine affection for the old fellow.

"Like a father-replacement figure you shall be to me," the half-caff said.

"For a while," was the wise old King's response.