Is it just me, or does Pilsner Urquell sound like a particularly nasty creature from Tolkien?
Frodo slept on the ground that night, famished as he had never been before. Amongst Hobbits, missing one meal was considered eccentric, and he had never heard of anyone missing two. It had been three days now since he had seen Sam, with his blessed ability to make food out of whatever he could find. He could smell the meal that the orcs were cooking, and wished that he could not.
Morning light was kissing the mountains when they came for him. The leader of the orcs was joined by the Pilsner Urquell, fresh from the caverns beneath the Orthanc. Frodo could sense Saruman’s stench about him.
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Normal blogging will be resumed once I stop having strange ideas run through my head when I look at bottles of beer.
