The Archer Mice of Middle-earth

by Varda


The Return of the Mouse King

At the great Garden Party of Mouselórien the Heroic Archer Mice of Dublin Four were eating 
strawberries and cream and flirting with the female Galadrimice when Sammouse suddenly rose to his paws and said;
‘This is all very well and good, but we better be getting on with our quest, begging your ladyship’s pardon…’

Frodent nearly choked on a strawberry and glared at his trusty servant, wondering what had got into his head…but
then Aramouse agreed.
‘Sammouse is right’ he said haughtily. ‘It is the job no-one wants to do that gets done’
‘Er..’ said Sammouse ‘Mr. Aramouse, I think you got that saying wrong….’
‘Yes!’ chipped in Pipsqueak ‘It should be ‘it’s the job we all have that we love to hate…’
‘No!’ said Boromouse, interrupting. ‘It is the job we all hate that we love to let our friends have….’

Just then the Archer Mice were drowned out by loud snoring; Queen Galadrimouse had fallen asleep on her throne, her
circlet over one ear, a glass of extra strong barley water in her paw…
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ hissed Celemouse. ‘You’ve bored her to sleep! We’ll never wake her up …’
‘I heard that, Celemouse the Unwise!’ snapped Galadrimouse, waking up suddenly.
‘You can cut the hedges of Lothlórien for the next month or so as punishment…’
As Celemouse subsided into sullen silence Galadrimouse said;

‘Very well, I will be sorry to see the Heroic
Archer Mice leave but cheese is short so go you must. But first the One Mouse must be granted a look in my mirror….’

At once there was excitement and consternation among the Archer Mice. Legomouse tossed his long golden tresses and said;
‘At last! I have dreadful tangles….’
‘Not you, stupid!’ said Gilmouse ‘She means Frodent…’ Legomouse burst into tears.
‘It isn’t fair, I haven’t seen a mirror in days….’

‘This just can’t get any better…’ muttered Boromouse….

Much later Frodent, standing on a matchbox for height, peered into Galadrimouse’s mirror, a silver fingerbowl stolen
from the Russian Embassy on Clyde Road and filled with water…the surface was dark, then Frodent saw shapes in its depths…

It was Sarumouse and his toadymouse Wormtail. Still grimy with smoke from the explosion that had disentegrated
Isengasworks, they were fleeing the abode of the Dark Mouse Sauron having been unsuccessful in seeking help to rebuild their army, blown
away by their own careless mishap with gunpowder..

‘I told you it wouldn’t work!’ snapped Sarumouse as the horse-drawn carriage trotted down Merrion Street.
‘He thinks we are losers. How could he have such an idea?’
Grimouse shrugged, wondering if this question was ironic..then he suddenly said;
‘I know! Let’s try the Bureaurats of Dublin One! They are always good for a government loan…..’

And so Sarumouse and Wormtail fetched up on the steps of the Government Department of Grants to Evil Wizards. They
rang the bell. A bent wizened mouse with a red nose and wing collar let them in to a vast Georgian dining room, used as a waiting room. After a
four and a half hour wait they were ushered into the presence of a plump Bureaurat…

‘What can I do for you, gentlemice?’ asked the oily rodent. Sarumouse cleared his throat and said;
‘I want to take over the world but I accidentally blew up my army. I need money to breed Uruk-rats in
Isengasworks again and annoy the heck out of Elrat the HalfRodent……’
‘No problem!’ purred the Bureaurat. ‘By a new directive of the European Union money is to be made available for
schemes such as this. Fill in this form….’

And the Bureaurat pushed across the desk with his plump paw a pink form;
‘FORM 1786544456 EU Z/IRWD; APPLICATION FOR GRANT FOR URUK-RAT BREEDING SCEME’

‘Splendid!’ chortled Sarumouse, grabbing the form.
‘Not so fast!’ said the Bureaurat. ‘We have to discuss repayment terms’
‘Repayment?’ said Sarumouse. ‘Tyrants don’t repay!’ he shrieked.
‘Nevertheless, we need security’ said the Bureaurat primly. ‘What about 50% of the profits?’
‘Robbery! You thieving rats!’ screamed Sarumouse.
‘What about 12%?’ put in Wormtail. The Bureaurat twitched his whiskers and said;
‘25%?’
‘20% and it is a deal’
‘Done!’

Now, said the Bureaurat. ‘Are there any business risks I should know about….?’
‘Well…’ began Grimouse. Sarumouse glared at him but he went on; ‘there are the Archer Mice of Dublin 4.’
‘What about them?’ said the Bureaurat with a sniff.
‘They have among them’ said Grimouse ‘no other than Aramouse, the pretendermouse to the Throne of the Mouse
Kingdom of Gondor, also known as Upper Baggot Street, land of milk and cheddar.’
‘What?’ said the Bureaurat aghast.

‘It can’t be…..the Return of the Mouse King!’