The Archer Mice of Middle-earth
The Witch-Cat of Angmar
`Saurkat has yet to reveal his
most deadly servant; the one, it is said, no living mouse can kill. The
one who will lead his forces in battle; The Witch Cat of Angmar!`
`Yes, the press release did not lie….` said the large grey and black
tabby with the strange orange eyes, licking its paws and washing its
face in the bleak chamber high up in the tower overlooking Cirith
Uncat. Mouse skeletons littered the floor and strange arms and armour,
emblazoned with feline heraldry, lined the walls.
`I am the great sorcerer cat who winged little Frodent when he escaped
from my clutches once before. What a tasty morsel he would have been
The great grey cat narrowed his eyes as a procession of large mail-clad
rats approached bearing items of armour with which to prepare the Witch
Cat for battle. One luckless rodent clamped a large helmet with spiked
crown down on the cat`s head, causing a wail of pain.
`Stupid rat!` yowled the Witch Cat. `You flattened my whiskers! You
will be first into battle!`
The rat cowered away. The Witch Cat licked his fur and said to himself;
`Now to even the score with those Archer Mice. There will be no escape
this time. They are mouseholed up in Mouse Tirith with that silly
Magic Mouse Wizardmouse. As if any magic was as good as mine….for no
living mouse can kill me, the Witch Cat of Angmar, and I love mice to
bits, they are so crunchable!`
Stretching himself, first one back leg, then the other, then one front
leg then the other, Witch Cat walked to the door, his attendant cats
and rats bowing low. Outside, his lieutenant, Gothmoggie, a lilac
point Siamese in black armour, regarded his lord with cold blue
`My Lord Of Angmar!`he cried in a piercing yowl. `The troops await you!`
Below the tower, inside the battlements of Mouse Morghul, stood a great
host of cats, rats, bats and giant half-bred Balmogs and Morcats, all
clad in rusty black armour. When they saw their leader, a great roar of
miaous rose to the dark sky. The Witch Cat raised a mailed paw.
`Enough, felines and rodents of Mordor. Save your energy for the walls
of Mouse Tirith. Soon, soon my brothers in fur, we will conquer, in the
name of Saurkat and there will be mouse dinners for all for ever!`
Held prisoner by the sorcery of Angmar and Mordor, the bewitched host
did not see through this empty promise, but raised their weapons and
miauoed loudly. With a swagger, the Witch Cat turned to mount his fell
steed, a large bat bred by Saurkat in the depths of the caverns
of Mordor. With one agile bound, the Witch Cat sprang into the
saddle and clutched the beast with all claws extended. The creature
gave a deafening screech of pain and shot off down the mountainside,
leaving the Witch Cat sprawled on his back.
His lieutenant, the Siamese, purred with pleasure and licked his
`After the stupid animal!` growled the Witch Cat to one of his feline
flunkies, who bounded down the slope with a miaou. Soon the beast was
brought back, cowering. But the Witch Cat had no time for punishment.
He sprang into the saddle again, this time hanging on. The great bat
rose into the air and settled on the battlements of Mouse Morghul and
hissed at the army within its walls.
`Forth, Fell Felines of Mordor!`cried the Witch Cat.
`Forth to the destruction of Mouse Tirith and the utter destruction of
the Archer Mice of Dublin Four….`
Far below the gates of Mouse Morgul, Sammouse and Frodent cowered
behind a rock while Gollumouse watched the army leave the citadel.
`Pity the Mice of the West…`Frodent said to Sammouse. `I have never
seen so many mean moggies assembled in one place……`
Below them the army streamed forth, a rhythmic chant somewhere between
a miaou and a yowl rising to deafen the hidden halfmice.
`To war!` shouted the Witch Cat.
`To warrrrrrrrr` purred his Siamese lieutenant in reply …..