Worthy of the Valar by Ellynn

Worthy of the Valar

"Come on! Try it!"

Hmmm...

"It will not bite you!"

Of course not, Maglor thought. He was not that stupid.

He has seen this... this, uhm, thing... several times during the past few months. In some inns and in military camps. A novelty from the east. Damn Ottomans and their conquering of Europe, people have been cursing for more than two centuries now. But there was one more thing they have been saying: Oh well, praised be Ottomans for this drink they brought with them!

Wasn't that crazy? To give such conflicted statements?!

Anyway, he had no wish to try it. It looked weird. Or, more precise, ugly. And he had a rule: he never ate or drank that which he didn't visually like. Nope, no way. And this, uhm, thing... this drink... he didn't find it nice looking at all.

But it seemed that this time he wouldn't be able to get out of it. His friend put a cup in front of him – and it was more than obvious that he was proud of himself. He cooked it a little while ago, by himself. For the two of them.

"This is the perfect thing for early mornings, my friend," Johann said. "It awakens you, and you are full of energy."

He liked Johann a lot, in fact. A good friend, and a great musician. All right, because of him, and only because of him, he will try it...

He leaned forward, observing the cup and its contents, trying to hide the expression of disgust on his face...

...and in that movement, as he came closer to the cup, the aroma of the drink filled his nostrils. His eyes widened. How good! How unique! Not once in his long life, neither in Valinor nor here in Middle-earth, had he smelled something like this. If he had to describe it, how would he do it?

This was the scent of... of all colours, all notes, all stars... all pleasures.

Well, if it smelled this good, perhaps the taste would be equally good, despite its repulsive appearance.

He sipped.

Oh!

Taste buds on his tongue blossomed and started to sing. Warmth spread through his throat. And through every part of his body. He fluttered, to the very tips of his fingers and toes. To the very bottom of his heart. Music played in his soul. He smiled.

Indeed... this thing... this coffee... its colour might be blacker than Morgoth's soul, but it is surely a drink worthy of the Valar themselves.

Men. A lot could be said about them. Full of flaws. If some of them hadn't failed in crucial moments, like Isildur for instance, some things in the history of Middle-earth would have been much easier. But because they invented this drink, he'll forgive them all of their mistakes.

And when, a little later, he started to feel alert like rarely before, and full of energy for composing for the whole day and night in front of him, his smile became even wider.

Perfect taste, perfect feeling. Oh yes, he will drink this thing every day!

Chapter End Notes

Dedicated to all coffee-addicts :)