Sméagolatté's Song of Coffee
I love my spoon
Silver like the Moon!
So round and cool!
I only wish
For a hot fresh knish
That would RULE!
Awake with bad breath
Sleep-walking death
For Coffee ever thirsting, ever drinking
Stir my java, spoon never clinking
Thinks my Master NescaFrodo
Is a dodo!
Fixes nasssty half-caff
With my glassy stare
How sweet and fair!
Wish with all my heart
For an apple tart,
Or a chocolate éclair!
Lord of the Coffee; Queueing in Purgatory
The half-caffs had reached the coffee mountain, and now they crept up the slippery sides like small brown banana slugs. As NescaFrodo laboured to drag his lethargic limbs up the mountain, he was seized by a desire to put on the Coffee Ring. How easy it would be to climb then! He could scamper up the slope like a goat... but Sanka would not share in that. Only one hand at a time could wield the Coffee, and NescaFrodo would not leave his friend behind.
So they inched on, until NescaFrodo was literally crawling on the grounds. He collapsed after a few feet, his breath stirring the powdered coffee-dust as he swooned.
Sanka dragged himself to NescaFrodo's side and cradled his master in his arms. NescaFrodo lay limp, utterly spent and listless. In his heart Sanka grieved, for the loss of the fiery spirit and will that his master had always shown, which now seemed slain. He hated this place and what it was doing to them, to NescaFrodo especially.
He rubbed his stinging eyes and said to NescaFrodo in a hoarse whisper, "Do you remember the Shire, Mr NescaFrodo? TeaBag End? If we were home right now, I'd have breakfast just about ready for you. Bacon and eggs, with toast and marmalade... just as you like it, and scones with butter and a big kettle of steaming hot..."
NescaFrodo opened his eyes wearily and watched Sanka's lips moving as he spoke. He knew that his faithful friend and companion was trying to comfort him and give his strength-Uncle Bilbean had always said that thoughts of home and good coffee had given him courage in dark places-but if he had possessed the strength, he would have begged Sanka to stop talking. He feared the mention of coffee would break his resolve not to use the Coffee Ring.
But he was weak and spent, and he could only listen to his friend. Yet, instead of misery, Sanka's words brought him a measure of peace. But still, the Coffee Ring tantalized him.
"Do you remember it at all, Mr NescaFrodo?" Sanka was saying.
NescaFrodo licked his dry lips with a dryer tongue and said in a voice barely louder than a thought, "I can't recall the taste of coffee, Sanka, nor the smell of bread. No hint of mint or dream of cream is left to me. I am hungry in the middle of a café and there is no waitress to seat me. I can hear the Coffee Ring calling my name..."
"Shut up, you stupid Ring!" shouted Sanka, and he gently threw his master over his shoulders and carried him the rest of the way up the mountain.
But just as Sanka reached the doorway to the Cup of Doom, a familiar hated hissing voice came to his ears. To the half-caff's dismay and annoyance, Smeágolatté cut into line ahead of them. The wretched little sneak was not happy.
"Nassty halfcaffss! They mussn't do it! Don't destroy the Deliciouss... give it back to uss, if you don't wantss it!" He grabbed at NescaFrodo's neck, where the Coffee Ring hung.
NescaFrodo came suddenly awake, and he jerked the Coffee Ring back from Smeágolatté's grasp. "Do not touch me! Do not say that again! Before ever you taste the Coffee again, I shall take it up, and I would command you to drink decaf… or to stand in line for tax assistance… and you would do it, Smeágolatté! Don't mess with the Master of the Delicious! I am feeling really edgy right now!"
Smeágolatté cowered and bowed to NescaFrodo, but in his eye a cunning gleam still glowed. He hung back when NescaFrodo turned to continue the journey, but he followed stealthfuly, keeping out of Sanka's sight.
The mountain reared before them; daunting, dangerous, and sticky.