For JRRT's one hundred and thirteenth (eleventy-third) birthday, the Tolkien Society proposed that his fans worldwide drink a toast to "The Professor". Una pointed this out on the H-A mailing list and the nuzgul bit me. (I seem doomed only to write JRRT birthday tributes which involve the Fellowship and booze...)
"Now then." Elessar surveyed the company gravely. "Are all supplied?"
Gandalf inhaled whisky-fumes appreciatively; Frodo lifted his sherry-glass.
"All right, thank-you, Strider, half-pint of Shire's best left."
"Merry, Pippin - ah," as they waved overflowing cider-tankards, "helped yourselves; Legolas, wine - "
"Father's cellars' finest," the Elf maintained, light glinting on Dorwinion ruby.
"Gimli - enough fire-water, what-do-you-call-it-"
"Vodka," the Dwarf rumbled.
"Arwen suggested champagne," Aragorn added, "but for old times', I think, Ranger's Friend -" Producing a battered hip-flask, he poured. "Boromir, join me?"
Boromir sniffed. "What-?"
"Elrond's best brandy." The King winked. "So, a toast. The Professor!"