The Archer Mice of Middle-earth
A Christmas Mouse
Frodent stood alone on the beach, looking out
across the choppy waters of the Anduinmousepool. His tail drooped
'Alone, then?' he squeaked to the empty air. 'Must I go on alone, as
Galadrimouse said I must, because my burden can only corrupt any mouse
who tries to share my errand?'
And Frodent stared at the tiny gold ring on his paw. A large tear
formed in his bright, beadlike eye and slowly ran down his nose, down
down....a mouse has a very long nose.....and finally ended up on his
whisker, glistening like a pearl. With a tiny sneeze, Frodent shook it
'If only Wizardmouse was here, instead of falling into the space
between the electric cooker and the dishwasher trying to steal some
Christmas pudding!' he sighed. '..but then, he did always seek the
unattainable. The mince pies were far easier to reach...'
Just then Frodent squared his tiny furry shoulders, planted his
tiny paws on the sand, and took off at a determined trot towards a
MacDonald's Burger carton, carelessly thrown aside by some greedy Dwarf
and bobbing up and down in the shallow water near the shore.
Casting his Elven cloak aside, Frodent the heroic rodent sprang from
the dry land into the carton, which promptly turned upside down,
dumping Frodent into the shallow water.
'Thundering tortoiseshells!' snorted Frodent, crawling out onto the
sand, shaking himself like a minute, three-inch high retriever.
'MacDonalds really is bad for your health....'
But the intrepid rodent was not deterred. He inched out into the
water and this time he slipped carefully over the side of the carton.
'Yesssssssss' he cried, taking up a plastic knife and beginning to
paddle away from the shore...
'Farewell, friends!' he thought to himself. 'Aramouse will look after
you! It will give him something to do and take his mind off trying to
score points off Boromouse....'
'Mr Frodent! Mr Frodent!' a long wailing series of squeaks came
from behind. Frodent looked back and saw his faithful gardenermouse,
Sammouse, running down the beach after him, tiny pots and pans and a
minute knapsack on his back.
'Don't go! Don't leave me here....' cried Sammouse. 'They've no more
'It's no good, Sammouse..' called back Frodent. 'I am going to
Morecatsdoor on my own. I don't want to take any more mice into
unnecessary danger...and to be honest you are all making too much
'But Mr. Frodent!' squeaked 'I am your faithful Sammouse!'
'Goodbye...' sang Frodent, paddling hard. But Sammouse, reaching
the water's edge, took a deep breath and plunged in. Frodent looked
back in annoyance.
'Mice can't swim, remember?' he called, but it was too late.
Sammouse was flailing about with his short paws, his fur now
bedraggled, the pots and pans pulling him down.
'You could have taken off the hardware, at least!' snapped Frodent.
With a gurgle, Sammouse disappeared.
Below the surface, all was quiet and dim. His paws pattering on unseen
ground, Sammouse sank gently. His short mouse life passed before his
eyes; Gaffermouse, his father, telling him he would end up in a trap
and deserve it; Rosiemouse saying she thought his whiskers were
exceptionally fine.....suddenly someone grabbed his tail and yanked it
up, and Sammouse was hauled through the water till he shot up into the
open air. He was pulled over the polystyrene edge of the carton and lay
gasping in the bottom of the burger carton. He wrinkled his nose.
'Any of that Big Mac left, Mr Frodent?' he asked. Frodent shook his
head in exasperation.
'Of all the darned niusances a mouse coud have, you are the worst!' he
snorted. Sammouse blinked at him, his fur dripping, his pots and pans
hafl-full of water. At last Frodent sighed;
'I'm going to Morecatsdoor, Sammouse, on my own!'
'Of course you are, Mr.Frodent...' replied Sammouse. '..and I'm coming
with you. A mouse is for life, not just for Christmas....'