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...)
Gandalf inhaled whisky-fumes appreciatively; Frodo lifted his sherry-glass.
"Sam?"
"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!"