The Archer Mice of Middle-earth

by Varda

Letter to Faramouse

To: Prince Faramouse, Mouse Tirith.

My Dear Brother,

I hope you are well and keeping an eye on old Denemouse, make sure he
does not fall into any traps. I know he treats you like a piece of old
cheddar but I'll sort him out when I get back.... which may be some
time, actually, as the Quest is, well, delayed.

The problem is Herself; she has started writing poetry. Awful stuff,
but there you go. She wrote one about you, really depressing, all about
how beastly me and dad are to you. We're not, are we? Anyway, I won't
bore you with it, but the long and the short of it is we are third on the
list now as she has picked up that dratted Epic again as well. Not
Loafer this time, more Lifer, about some criminal Elf or something.

Actually me, Aramouse (he comes in useful occasionally) Legomouse and
Gilmouse had an idea, to steal all her bags. We set off and had nearly
reached the counter when a giant inflatable Santa Claus fell over onto
us. We were nearly crushed! We all had bruises and Legomouse's golden
fur was such a mess he had to spend the rest of the day in the
hairdresser. He is very emotional about it all so we will have to wait till that
blows over.

Other than that we are getting along fine, except for Aramouse, of
course, who has delusions of grandeur, thinks he is a king. King! Hah!

Your loving brother,