Author's Warning:

This serving of coffee contains loads of really, really wrong things that I learned about coffee during a brief spat of research I performed over the weekend. Those of you who own DragonRoast mugs, please be assured that your coffee is not 'true' DragonRoast Coffee, but a fine Erebor House Blend, quite free of such exotic treatment. You'll understand at the end of the story. For now, take my advice and stick to the HouseBlend!

And now, some music to begin our programme!

The Java from the mountains,
The beans so finely ground,
The liquid of silver fountains
Shall leave me extra-wound!

My cup shall be upholden,
My nerves shall be restrung,
So long as beans are roast-golden
So long as coffee hits my tongue!

I'll be able to run up mountains,
And race around the sun,
As long as coffee flows in fountains,
And I get my honey bun!

Coffee shall flow in gladness
My candle at both ends shall burn
With caffeine-induced madness
At the Java-King's return!

Lord of the Coffee; The Hobbean
DragonRoast Coffee

For a long time the Dwarves stood in the dark before the door and debated, until at last Thónion spoke:

"Now is the time for our esteemed Mr TeaBaggins, who has proved himself a good companion and excellent maker of espresso, and a half-caff full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance-- now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now is the time for him to earn his Coffeebreak."

"If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thónion Thraniseed's son Crackershield, may your milk-mustache grow ever longer," Bilbean said crossly, "say so at once and have done! I might refuse. I have got you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so that I am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all' as my father used to say. He also used to say, 'last one up from the table has to pick up the cheque'. Somehow I think I will not refuse. Perhaps I have begun to trust my luck more that I used to in the old days, but anyway I think I will go and have a peep at once and get it over with, before my coffee-nerves kick in. Who's coming with?"

Half an hour later, Bilbean was grumbling to himself as he inched along the pitch-black passageway, accompanied only by a thrush, which he had persuaded to go with him on the promise that he would split his last seedcake with the beast, providing he survived his interview with the dragon.

"You are in for it at last, Bilbean TeaBaggins," he said softly to himself. "You went and put your foot right in it that night at the Café, and now you've got to pull it out and pay for it. Dear me, what a fool I was and am! I have absolutely no use for dragon-roasted coffeebeans, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home, and that whistling noise up ahead the teakettle singing on my own hearth!"

He did not wake up, of course, and the whistling grew louder as he walked on, and so did the warmth increase, until he was sweating buckets, and a glow appeared at the end of the tunnel he was creeping down.

He went forward, and the glow became a reddish glare, and the heat went up and up until it was undoubtedly hot. Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he heard a sound in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot of water galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic espresso machine grinding and steaming. This grew into the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its deep sleep, or possibly a pressure-cooker full of nitroglycerine about to explode.

It was at this point that Bilbean stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait, before he ever tasted a drop of that famous coffee. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the half-caff's little head. Before him lies the great bottommost cafeteria or teahouse of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain's root. It was almost dark so that its vastness can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor was a great glow. The glow of Nogg!

There he lay, a vast golden-brown dragon, fast asleep; a thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his burners were set low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of coffeebeans, a vast treasure mound of morning beverages, unground and freshly roasted.

Nogg lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the half-caff could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with with beans and grounds of coffee from lying on his fragrant bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen cups, mugs and saucers, spoons and stirrers hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels, marked clearly 'sugar', 'cream', 'nutmeg', 'cinnamon', and 'cocoa'.

To say that Bilbean's mouth began to water is no description at all. There are no words to describe his entrancement, since Men changed the language that they learned of the Elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbean had heard tale and tell of dragon-hoards before, but the splendor, the thirst, the glory of such a treasure had never yet come home to him. His appetite was enflamed and elevated with enchantment and with the desire for coffee.

He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he crossed the floor to the nearest edge of the mound of coffeebeans. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. Bilbean grasped a great two-handled travelmug, so full of beans as to be near-overflowing, and cast one fearful eye upward. Nogg stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note.

Completely unnerved, Bilbean set the cup down gently and took out his CoffeeRing, what he had won in his game of chance with Gulp'um beneath the MochaMountains. He slipped on the thing, and felt a burst of energy return, like drinking a stout cup of espresso. He vanished from sight, and then picked up the cup again. A single golden bean rolled from over its brimming rim, and fell with a 'tink!' to the ground.

The eyes of the dragon snapped open. Bilbean froze, standing in the shadow between two red highbeams as Nogg raised its head and looked toward the sound. He turned his head, and Bilbean winced as the light fell across him; but Nogg did not see him. He was foiled by the magic of the CoffeeRing.

"Well, thief! I smell your cologne and I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself to come more coffee, there is plenty and to spare!"

"No thank you, O Nogg the Splendiferous!" Bilbean replied, "I did not come for your coffee. I wished only to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them."

"Do you now?" said the dragon, who was flattered. Dragons are notoriously vain and proud creatures.

"Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Nogg the Svelte and Greatest of Delicacies! Do you work out?"

"Oh, stop it!" exclaimed Nogg, blushing hard.

This of course is the proper way to speak to dragons, if you don't want to reveal your true purpose (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by telling them the truth (that their breath is bad enough to ground a spaceshuttle). No dragon can resist the fascination of its own narcissism, which is why flattery is always effective.

"So, thief, have you a name by which you are called, or do you exist purely to stroke my ego?"

"I do indeed have a name," said Bilbean, unwilling to let Nogg get too carried away. He sang:

I come from under the ground, but the grounds I consume.
I can eat a whole cake, and still have some room.
I don't stay behind for ale, rum or coke
But if you've got some pipeweed, I'll give it a smoke!
You won't see me coming nor hear how I leave
But I'm willing to bet I'm your newest pet peeve!

"Great," whined Nogg, rolling his jaundiced eyes. "I'm supposed to get a burglar, and I get a Shakespeare-wannabe instead!" The dragon sighed and lowered it head. "Go ahead and take all the coffeebeans you want. I can't use them anyway."

Bilbean hesitated, his curiosity perked. "Do you not enjoy the coffee of your own roasting, O Nogg the Creamy and Invigorating?"

Nogg snorted, spraying Bilbean unseen with countless coffeebeans that burst into flames and fell smoking about him. "I can't drink coffee... my doctor says it its bad for my blood-pressure."

"Then why are you here?" the little half-caff began inching toward the secret passage, toting his brimming cup of coffeebeans. "Why roast all these beans if you cannot drink them?"

Nogg laughed uproariously, shooting puffs of flame all around the room. "Do you think that is all that I do? Did not your Dwarves tell you why this coffee is so valuable, so much more expensive than ordinary run-of-the-mill beans? This is Loki Kúr-ap, the coffee that is el beso de la broca; 'kissed by the wyrm'. You see, I eat the coffeebeans first, you see, and then..."

"Stop! Stop stop stop!" cried Bilbean, dropping his cup and placing his hands over his ears. "T.M.I.! I don't want to know!" and he raced back up the tunnel to the sound of Nogg's laughter. "That's just sick!"

Nogg shrugged his winged shoulders and settled down on his heap of coffeebeans, saying, "One man's precious is another man's poison!" and he winks at the readers and goes back to sleep.

For a truly enlightening education on exotic coffee, do a google-search on Kopi Luwak, but don't eat or drink anything for half an hour before... if you have a weak stomach!