apologies, disclaimers, excuses, bribes, giggles, and cookies...

The Full Faramocha

They passed on; and as they climbed and drew near to the Citadel they felt the wind blowing in their faces, full of the fragrant odour of coffee; they caught the glimmer of morning far away, and the smell of donuts frying. It brought little hope to them, not knowing what evil lay before them, fearing to come too late to find that all the pastries had already been consumed.

"Hunger is passing like the darkness," said Grandélf, "but it still lies heavy on this City."

"It surely lies heavily on me," said Drippin, rubbing his tummy to ease the growling therein. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

"Work of the Enemy!" said Grandélf, shushing the half-caff. "Such clichés he loves: famine after a feast; divide and conquer; a stitch in time saves nine... there is no limit to his fiendish vagarities! Speak not of them!"

At the gate of the Citadel they found no guard, but an empty hallway and an open Door, leading down the long gloomy corridor toward the Rath Dìner, and exclusive dinnerclub that admitted only the Breward of Gondoroma and his guests. Luckily for Grandélf and Drippin, the bouncer was absent.

Inside, they found a horrible tableau: Dentynethor stood upon a pile of sweets; candied pretzels, sugared nutmeats, whipped chocolate trufflés with white chocolate drizzles, and what appeared to be a kingly hoard of decadent confections. Upon the crest of this mound lay Faramocha in a daze. Over him stood Dentynethor, a crazed look in his eyes and a smear of caramel on his beard.

"What is this, my lord?" said Grandélf the wiseacre. "The houses of Good Hygiene are no place for such munching. And why do you snack here when there is hunger before the Gate? Do you not know that thou shouldst not bring treats if thou hasn't enough to share with everyone?"

"Since when has the Lords of Gondorama been answerable to thee?" said Dentynethor. "Or may I not snack as I will?"

"You may," said Grandélf, "But others may contest your will, when it is turned to greed and gluttony. What of your son, Faramocha? Will you doom him to cavities and a spare tire as well?"

"He lies here, already swooning in a sugarcoma. The West has failed to triumph over bad coffee, and we will all be burned by high prices and inferior beans. Why should we not take comfort in what we now have?"

"Authority is not given to you, Breward of Gondorama, to order the hour of your son's overindulgence. Only the heathen kings under the domination of Dark Coffee did thus, and they suffered terrible tummy-aches and gained weight unseeming, so that their fine armour fit too tightly and their horses protested."

"Tummy-aches and gain!" Dentynethor spat out his cream-filled chocolate. "Didst thou think the tastebuds of the Cream Tower were numb? Nay, I have eaten more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For a little space you may triumph in the kitchen, for a day, but against the Power that is baking in the East there is no victory. To this City on the first fingerfood of it has yet been offered. And even now the wind of they hope cheats thee and wafts up the Andunkin a fleet with black sails. The West has been looted; we are doomed to live on carry-out foods and fishsticks. It is time for all to depart who can still fit through the door."

Grandélf then revealed his hidden strength. He seized a dingdong and thrust it into the raving mouth of Dentynethor. Then he scooped up Faramocha still dreaming, and carried him out of the candydungeon into the dawning day. He laid the man on the clean stones and bade Drippin to watch over him.

"I know of only one magic that will restore this man," the wiseacre said, and he scampered away, holding his robes so as not to trip upon the grey hem.

Soon he did indeed return, leading Mayòwyn, still in her battle-waitress gear. "Fair maiden," spoke Grandélf. "Use thy skill and bring coffee to this man who sleeps. Order up!"

"It needs but one bean to brew coffee," said the woMan of Yuban, "And those who have not coffee can still drink it. Would you have the folk of Gondoroma gather herbs and beans while the Dark Lord gather armies? It is not always good to be alert, when the nightmare is for waking eyes and the dreaming is of peace. Were I permitted, I would choose the latté."

Then she looked down upon Faramocha and saw that his appearance was ideed comely, attractive, and more importatly, unmarried; she kicked him in the foot. "Wake up, Handsome! We've got a love scene coming up!"