The Archer Mice of Middle-earth

by Varda

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 eyes.
`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 whiskers.

`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 …..