Our star reporter Ugr Nogrendale has gone completely over the top now - unless he was that already. Now he wishes to be called Hunter U. Nogson. But the AKM wil grant him that so long as he can bring us the interviews with the stars.
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Public disclaimer: the views expressed in all of Hunter U. Nogson's stories are not those of the AKM and the AKM bears no legal responsibilty for them. In any legal matters you should contact his lawyer and not us.
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Halfwits with halflings by
Hunter U. Nogson.
The food was crap and the service was slow. And it seemed that the crowd was straight from a flea-circus; ragged, tagged and bagged with age - stinking foul and drinking only to get drunk. The guys, and I mean it was mostly males there, had clearly already forgotten any other joys of life, like getting closer to the fairer but meaner sex... Heh, I merged in nicely with this bunch of losers.
But the ale saved my day. It is no hoax that there is indeed some wizardry in the Prancing Pony's beer. The foam was light and soft but had staying-power to beat any brew made in Edoras. The taste was hoppy and a bit crispy, nicely bitter, but still refreshing like any best labels from Eregion, ancient or contemporary. And it really kicked, like any the beorning master-brewers made on the hay-day of their art. It had all those qualities in a single brew. It was strong... and cheap.
And there the countdown to my fall started this time.
I had decided for good to make a professional interview this time as with some luck my agent had managed to deal a sit-down with none others but Frodo and Sam themselves, the heroes of the Middle-Earth - and exclusive to the AKM, by me! I had even prepared myself for it, looking for tough questions going through their personal histories and the history of football in these lost lands behind not only Valar's back, but behind any civilization's grasp whatsoever. But I was having my seventh pint when the duo finally arrived, sweating from their practises.
After the required "how do you do's" I decided to go straight to the bussiness while they were ordering some sausages and ham with Ithilien taters.
"It sure is remarkable, something the footballing Arda has been looking forwards; to see you four heroes of the M-E playing for the same team. It sure will be a commercial success and the stadiums will be sold out... and you'll be having fat wallets after all this is over, but do you really think you have qualities to compete in this year's competition for real? Is there any one team you could challenge for good?"
That was a worst starter anyone could have begun with. Let me tell any beginning journalists reading this story, what not to do when interviewing a decent hobbit.
a) Never make him understand you think he is doing something he loves for money, fame or vanity.
b) Never doubt his qualities: the hobbits have just gotten over the scorn of other nations disregarding them as insignificant little-men and they don't like to be reminded of that scorn.
c) Never, ever, doubt their personal integrity or honour (or the quickness of their temper underlying the jovial surface).
To my luck Frodo was the less offended of the two and he was able to pull Sam back from his bench as he was coming straight at me over the table. He would have beaten me for good, that I do allow him.
"You have your recorder on, Mr. Nogson?" Frodo asked after taming Sam, giving him a pint to mind.
I nodded, still shaky about the violent leap of master Samwise, reaching for my pint.
"Maybe you can edit your story when you're more sober... so I can answer your questions. I can see what you're hinting at with this being a lucrative deal, but trust me," and here he looked at me straight into the eye with the stare of an innocent hobbit, "that's not the case. We gathered together last autumn, the four of us, and reviewed our mediocre performances last year in different teams and we really came upon a strong urge to play together, for ourselves, and for our homeland. We really missed heart last year. Now our hearts beat together, and together we're strong. No friend left behind, you know?"
With Frodo's soothing voice recounting all those press-conference niceties I started to calm down and even my hands weren't trembling that much any more that I managed to take a long draught of my pint without spilling a lot of it to my breast. "Gandalf and Shadowfax were the single best players in team Bywater last year, and even with them the team was sad. Them signing off to Lothlorién you obviously can do nothing about - and I understand your ache for them when the powers - and money - talk. But you could have Maggott? He was basically the only player in the field to play on a quality-level! Why is he not in? Was he getting too self-conscious to you four comebacks? Do you have a inferiority complex with old Maggott Mr. Frodo?"
Now even Frodo seemed annoyed. "Look Mr. Nogson. If this is going to be an interview, you should watch your language! I will have none of it like this!"
"Well, maybe Mr. Samwise could tell our readers why you have dismissed the single best player of Bywater last year, namely the goalkeeper, your wife, Rosie Cotton? Why is she not tending the goal, why is she not playing at all? She was the clear MVP of the team Bywater last year and a quality-keeper in any M-E standards. And you're putting Butterbur between the poles instead? Are you guys freaking mad or is it because you don't want anyone to outshine you, not the least your wife?"
That was it. Sam jumped over the table and started pounding me with his fists, and Frodo seemed to be in no mood to stop him this time - nor were the other customers or the staff of that wretched inn with heavenly beer.
The next morning I woke up bruised in my bed where someone clearly had carried me. I remembered little of the night before but the recorder told me more I wished to hear. Now sitting on my bed I'm finishnig my report from the Prancing Pony.
Say whatever they say. The stats of the Fantastic Four from last year are sad to look at (Frodo / Ithilien -1, Sam / Ithilien +4, Merry / Rohan 0, Pippin / Minas Anor 0). But so am I.
Anyway. From last year's team Bree they have lost like 50 phantasypoints while the combined phantasypoints of the Fabulous Four they brought in is 3 points...
So let me express my doubts as to Shire-Bree Utd.'s success this year. I do not make this verdict totally ignoring the ache in my jaw and sides, but I still am sincere - even if not totally sober yet.
Hunter U. Nogson