Note from the Author: I realized after I was more than half finished with this that this particular story was covered in Bored Of The Rings, but I finished it anyhow, cause with parody, there is no such thing as 'original', is there? Enjoy!

Bre'r Frodo and the Annatar-baby

The half-caffs hurried through the pass of Torchyerear Fungol, and found themselves in Mordonut at last.

Mordonut-- the stronghold of Sour'on, Lord of the Coffee. All that they could see was desolate and dead, a vast open place it was; bordered by the Ephel Gúlaush on the west and the Ethel Lucy on the north. Within lay the dessert lands of Gorgermouth, where teaming hoards of bloated, pasty-skinned horcs and gobblings crowded, devouring coffee and stale donuts supplied by their Dark Lord. No cream, no sugar, no doilies did they employ; no pleasure did they take in the drink, either, for it was cold and bitter as the heart of a frustrated god.

NescaFrodo and Sanka had not gone far into that land when they were suddenly surrounded by horcs and gobblings of the most disagreeable kind. Two came forward and grabbed the hapless half-caffs. Their names were Skankhat and Garbajz.

They seized the half-caffs and poked and prodded them with their tarnished teaspoons. Cruelly, they took away Zinger, Sam's pack with the remainder of their Instant Elvish Coffee, and NescaFrodo's thermal underwear, a gift from his uncle Bilbean that the old half-caff had gotten from the King of the Dwarves long ago. A great fire was built, and a vast pot of water put to boil, for they planed to stew this nice brace of half-caff and eat them; a nice change from mouldy SaraLee teacakes!

"How'd ya like that, my little morsels?" leered Skankhat, pinching NescaFrodo on his plump little cheek, "We're gonna stew you with dumplings and eat you both!"

Sanka was trembling with terror, but NescaFrodo sighed of relief, "Whew! Is that all? Well, then, let's get on with it!"

NescaFrodo's lack of fear and nonchalance puzzled the not-to-bright horcs. "Aren't you afraid?" asked Garbajz. "Terrified? We are going to skin you and grill your toes! We're going to grind you up and bake bread with your bones! We're gonna..."

"Stop it, Garbajz! Yer makin' me hungry!" complained Skankhat.

NescaFrodo shook his head, his black curls bouncing. He said, "Oh, no, not at all! This is fine!" He began to baste himself in cheap barbeque sauce. "I was afraid that you were going to make us go to that big fiery mountain over there," and he waved casually toward Mt Cocoabrewin, the Cup of Doom, which was belching burnt brownsugar syrup into the air at that moment. NescaFrodo shuddered looking at it, then said merrily, "Do you like white or dark meat?"

"Wait a minute!" said Garbajz, scratching his head with his fork, "You ain't afraid of being eaten? Tortured? Portrayed as a caricature in a political cartoon?"

"Nope!" replied NescaFrodo, "I can't think of anything I am more afraid of than being made to go to the fiery mountain, and worse than that, to go alone with just my companion Sanka (he snores, you know). That's the most horrible, despicable thing that you could do to me, except..." and here the half-caff seemed to blanche, and he whispered, "except to be forced to appear in an episode of Hardcopy between Rush Limbaugh and Rosie O'Donnell!"

Skankhat's eyes bulged and he took a step back in horror, "Hey! we may be horcs, but even we have some limits to our cruelty!"

Garbajz was staring into space then slowly a strange expression crossed his face. He was having a thought, and it was his first, and it was painful. "Hey! I know what we could do! We could make them go to the fiery mountain! Haw haw haw!"

NescaFrodo wailed, "Noooo! Not that!..." he discretely gathered their things, handing them to Sanka, along with everything else he could lay his sticky little fingers on. "I am begging you, no!"

"Awww, come on, Garbajz!" Skankhat's rheumy eyes grew a little misty, "Have pity on the poor little blighters! Let's just eat them and be nice, just this once?"

"No way! If word got out, our reputations would be ruined! All right, you sniveling little weasels... start walking! And don't stop until you get to that fiery mountain!

"But first, we're going to throw you into that briar patch yonder, just because it is in the Book, and the reader is expecting it!"

So the two horcs pick up NescaFrodo and Sanka and toss them into a thick patch of briars, where they land quite miraculously unscathed.

"Mr NescaFrodo, thanks!" breathed Sanka, "You are so wise! I thought we were dead and cooked! How clever of you to pretend that you were afraid of the mountain!"

NescaFrodo shuddered. "Who was pretending?"