A Day In The Life of Mir

A Day In The Life of Mir

Posted: January 25, 2008
Title: A Day in the Life of Mîr (Interlude in ‘The Renewal of the Seasons’ series)
Series: Renewal of Seasons
Sequel to: Summer Rains
Author: Inwe Saralonde
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor, Glorfindel, Lindir, Elrond, minor cast and last, but not least, Mîr.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this.
Warnings: None, unless you count bad humour.
Beta: Aglarien. All other mistakes are mine.
Author’s Note: This is another story I had begun some years ago which I decided needed to be finished, and is written from Mîr’s point of view. While I have been assiduously learning ‘cat speak’ from my cat, I’m not sure if I’ve managed to translate it correctly, so if any of the occasional ‘meows’ I have included here are botched, then the blame must be laid at my door… By the way, Mîr’s thoughts (which are in English for the purpose of this story – I can’t presume that everyone knows ‘cat speak’) are in italics.

Summary: It’s just your average day for a cat…

*****

The day did not start off well.

Mîr sat under the kitchen table, watching as the cook gesticulated wildly at Lord Elrond.

“I do *not* need dead mice in my kitchen!”

“She was only showing how efficient a hunter she is. You should be happy that she is there to keep the mice in check,” Elrond said soothingly, trying to curb his smile.

“Nevertheless, my lord, I would appreciate if that cat would not leave her ‘offerings’ here! Can I suggest you have a word with Master Erestor to keep his cat locked up?”

“I most certainly will not. She needs to be able to go outside, not to be held prisoner in some room. It will go against her very nature.” Elrond spoke sternly, and the cook wilted slightly under the attack.

Mîr, of course, did not understand what was being said, but she had a fairly good idea what it was about. It seems her capture of the mouse (who had been attempting to make its way to the cheese) was unappreciated, and it annoyed her.

‘Well, so much for *that* idea,’ she thought crossly. Carefully inching her way out from under the table, she tried to make good her escape, but to no avail. She felt a hand grab her.

‘Bother! Hang on…how did he manage to be so quick?’ Mîr’s eyes made contact with Elrond’s grey ones, and she immediately widened hers, hoping the innocent look would work its usual magic. She was out of luck there, too.

“I am afraid that look will not work on me, pen-dithen.” Elrond began wondering if Mîr was not some mortal in animal form, for the look she gave him was akin to that which a daughter would try and use on her father. ‘Which is probably why I recognised it,’ he thought ruefully, remembering incidents past with Arwen.

Elrond sighed. How does one tell a cat not to do something? ‘Maybe Erestor knows the best answer, seeing as it is his cat,’ the elf lord thought, carrying the cat out of the kitchen.

‘Whoa! Just hold it a minute…what about my mouse?!! I was hoping to have that for later, you know!’ Unfortunately for Mîr, all Elrond heard was a series of ‘meows’ that made absolutely no sense to him, anymore than Elvish did to Mîr.

*****

Mîr was sulking. Elrond had brought her to her friend Erestor, who was in the room called the ‘library’ – whatever that was. But it was a room she was familiar with; it was here that her friend had found her in the first place. Erestor had looked at her and shook his head before putting her on the floor, whereupon she stalked away from him, tail in the air.

She proceeded to ignore him by starting with her morning ablutions. She heard the scrape of the chair on the floor, followed by the sound of her friend sitting down. Then came the noise that always intrigued her, and she looked up.

Sitting at the desk, Erestor was busily finishing the patrol duty rosters for the upcoming month. Totally engrossed in his task, he was unaware of the bright green gaze that was fixed upon his quill.

Mîr sat quietly for while, watching as the feather moved continuously backwards and forwards. Finally, she could take no more. She rose from her haunches and made her way to the chair in front of the desk and jumped. From there, she jumped upon the desk and sat down, her eyes never leaving the object of her fascination.

“Do not even think of it, Mîr.”

“Mreow?” What was her friend saying to her?

“This,” Erestor said, pointing his quill at her, “is not a toy. So do not think you have leave to attack it.”

“Mreow?”

“No.”

Ah, that was better! There were a few words that Mîr understood. One was her name (obviously), another was ‘food’, and another was ‘no’…and she knew what that word meant. It meant that she wasn’t allowed to do something. And she hated that word with a passion. But what as it she wasn’t allowed to do? ‘Oh well, I suppose I had better ask.’

“Mreow????” Mîr looked hopefully at her friend.

Erestor looked at the cat sitting on his desk. He knew she was fascinated by the feather on his quill. Pointing to the feather, he shook his head at Mîr, saying, “No.”

If a cat could slump its shoulders, then Mîr would have done so. ‘Bother! So that is what he meant.’ Then she brightened a little. ‘But it must only be for today because he is playing with it,’ she thought. ‘Maybe I will get my chance another time!’

Getting up, she jumped onto the chair, and then onto the floor. “Meow?” she asked, as she walked to the door. Mîr heard as Erestor got up and walked behind her before opening the door for her to get out.

“Mîr?” The cat turned at the sound of her name. “Do not go near the kitchen, understood?” When Erestor saw the cat just staring at him with her bright green eyes, he tried again. “Kitchen. No.”

There was that word again. ‘No.’ Except what was her friend talking about this time? What did he mean by ‘kitchen’? All these strange, foreign sounds; surely there were better things to be done than to try and work out what they meant!

“Meow!!” she said, hoping that would make her friend happy, and then padded off down the corridor. Erestor stood at the doorway, shaking his head in amusement, before shutting it and getting back to his work.

*****

‘Yes! Perfect…just sitting there, waiting for me…’ Mîr eyed the bird sitting some feet away from her. She had hidden herself in the bushes, out of sight. There was no way the bird could sense her presence.

Crouching low, her gaze fixed, she carefully put one paw out, placing it as silently as possible on the ground in front of her. Soon another paw followed, then another, and she began to creep up towards the unsuspecting bird. ‘This will certainly make up for the mouse I couldn’t have,’ she thought.

Suddenly a loud sound reverberated through the air and, startled, the bird flew off, leaving Mîr to stare at her now quickly departing snack with frustration.

‘Thank you *very* much,’ she thought sourly. ‘Why do you all try and take away all my fun? That is…Just. Not. Fair.’ She sat down, staring at the ground where the bird used to be.

Mîr heard the footsteps as they approached her. ‘I will show you!’ She readied herself, planning to let whoever it was who had startled her prey know exactly what she thought. Mîr knew her claws were nice and sharp; she had spent some time that morning clawing the bark of a tree to get them just so.

“Oh Mîr…you do not need to chase birds! There is plenty of food for you to be had without that.”

Any plans of attack shrivelled and died. A gentle hand was on her back, stroking her, and she began to purr. Mîr looked at the one who was stroking her. It was the white-haired elf, the one who always spoke softly to her, always held her gently, and who always allowed her to sit on his lap. She remembered her friend calling him ‘Lindir’. No, she couldn’t attack him, even if he did frighten off the bird. Instead, she arched her back and purred even louder, tilting her head slightly as he gently scratched the side of her face.

‘Mmmmm…that *is* nice…’ “Meow?” she questioned, as the fingers moved away. Lindir smiled down at her.

“I must go, pen-dithen…I have to practice the new song I have written for tonight. Go to the kitchen; I am sure the cook will give you some food.” With that, the minstrel got up and walked inside the house.

‘Kitchen…kitchen…food…’ Suddenly it dawned on her. The kitchen was where she was this morning! The place where food could be found! The place…bother. The place that her friend said she wasn’t allowed to go. How she hated the word ‘no’! Tail down, she began to walk slowly back inside the house, suddenly feeling very hungry. The food her friend had given her earlier that day was now a distant memory. What made it worse was that she lost her mouse, could not catch the bird, and she was not allowed to go to the kitchen. Mîr was beginning to feel very sorry for herself indeed.

*****

Sniffing carefully, Mîr walked into the room. There was no one there and, worse still, there was nothing that smelt remotely like food. ‘Bother, bother, bother. There’s no food here at all! And there isn’t anyone here to give me any, either.’

Suddenly her attention was caught by something fluttering gently. What was it? Crouching slightly, Mîr carefully approached it. Her ears pricked up. She knew what it was! Her friend often had some of it for her to play with. Now, what was the word her friend used? String. That was it. String. Happily, Mîr hooked her claw into it and pulled. Ooohh…there was lots of it! ‘This is going to be so much fun,’ the cat thought as it all tumbled onto the floor from where she had pulled it out of the basket. Soon she was in the middle of it all, pouncing and batting at the balls of string, watching them unravel and snake across the floor.

After playing for what seemed like a long time, Mîr yawned. ‘Mmmm…time for a sleep,’ she thought. ‘Now, where is a good place for a nap?’ She looked around and saw a cushion lying on one of the chairs. ‘Perfect! And it’s in the sun as well. I *will* be nice and comfy.’ Then Mîr looked down. ‘Oh, bother…’ She stared at the gaily coloured pieces of string that were now wrapped tightly around her paws. More of it was wrapped around her tail, and she could feel another bit of the string tickling her right ear. ‘How do I get out of this?’ she wondered. ‘More importantly, am I going to get in trouble…again?’

She looked around the room once more. Of course, it was still empty, naturally, and why she was able to play with the string in the first place. Mîr had the feeling that she would not have been allowed to otherwise. She tried to walk, but found herself hampered. ‘Oh…&^($*!!’ she thought crossly. Mîr sat down as best as she could, her ears drooping slightly. She had really gotten herself into a mess this time, and she knew she had no choice but to get someone to help her out of it.

“MREOW!!” The noise reverberated slightly within the room, and Mîr’s ears twitched.

“MREOW! MREOOOWWW!!”

“Did you hear that?” an elleth asked.

“Mreow?!”

“’Tis coming from inside the room. It looks like Erestor’s cat has gotten in there somehow,” another elleth said, and very soon the two came into the room. Both stopped, however, when they saw Mîr sitting there, almost swathed by the wool that she had so joyously been playing with.

“We really must have a word with Master Erestor about his cat,” one of them said crossly. “Look at the mess she has made!”

“Aye,” the other said, looking about her and shaking her head. “If we manage to unravel all this wool, it will be a miracle. Look at how she managed to wrap it around herself!”

“No wonder she was making so much noise,” the first elleth said. “She can barely move. Come, help me try and release her, and then we shall take her to Master Erestor.”

Mîr sighed. She was definitely in trouble, judging from the looks she was getting. Quietly she allowed herself to be untangled, and then found herself unceremoniously tucked under one arm and being taken to her friend.

*****

“I really should not have given you this treat,” Erestor said, trying to make his voice stern, but failing. “You really did make a mess with all that wool.”

Mîr was too busy licking her friend’s fingers to take too much notice of what he was saying. All she really cared about was making sure she had licked off every conceivable scrap of fish.

“I really do spoil you,” Erestor sighed, removing his fingers, much to Mîr’s consternation. The dark-haired elf looked down in exasperation at his cat. “But how do I stop you?” he murmured, beginning to stroke Mîr, smiling slightly as she arched her back into his hand. “I can not lock you up, for you need your freedom. ‘Tis a shame they forget that you are still young and playful. Nevertheless, I think it best if you remain here with me for a while so that you stay out of mischief.”

Mir’s tilted her head slightly. ‘I wonder what he’s talking about,’ she mused as she watched her friend’s lips move. ‘Oh well, I can’t have been in too much trouble if he gave me that nice fish!’ She jumped down gracefully from Erestor’s lap and walked towards the door. “Meow?” she said hopefully.

But Erestor shook his head. “No. You are staying with me.”

‘No? Not *that* word again!’ Mîr’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her tail began to swish from side to side in annoyance.

“You need not look at me like that,” Erestor said. “You have been in enough trouble for today. So, ‘no’.”

‘No, no, no, no, no…I do not like that word one little bit!’ Mîr had the sudden urge to go back to her friend and use her nice sharp claws on him, but then she thought of the lovely fish that she had just eaten. ‘Bother,’ she groused. ‘If I go back and scratch him, I won’t get any more nice treats from him. He doesn’t play fair.’ In high dudgeon she stalked to a nearby chair and jumped up, taking pleasure in sinking her claws into the soft cushion and not really caring if she pulled out a thread or two. Mîr turned around three times, then settled down, making sure that her back was towards her friend so that he knew exactly what she thought of his idea of keeping her cooped up inside.

Erestor watched Mîr’s movements with amusement. He knew his little cat was annoyed with him, but he still found it a little comical seeing her ‘performance’. With a small shake of his head, he picked up his quill and resumed his work.

*****

“I hear Mîr was in a little bit of trouble today,” Glorfindel said, swirling the wine around in his goblet.

“No more than usual, I suspect,” Erestor replied, sighing. “She is not yet even a fully grown cat; of course she is still going to be playful.”

“But she needs to learn what she is allowed to play with,” Glorfindel replied gently. “It does not help when you have scraps of wool for her, for then she thinks she can play with all wool.”

“Glorfindel, she will play with wool irrespectively,” Erestor said. “I have suggested that the wool be put away in the cupboards; at least if the doors are closed she will not be able to get at them.”

“And how was that suggestion taken?”

“Rather well, considering the mess Mîr had managed to create. In fact, they cleared everything away; I have never seen the sewing room look so tidy.”

“At least that would appeal to your sense of neatness,” Glorfindel teased.

Mîr listened to the conversation with half an ear. No point in listening to it all, considering that she understood virtually none of it. All she knew was that when she managed to sneak into the room where the lovely string was, it was all gone.

Turning her head slightly, she saw that her friend was now sitting on that other elf’s lap. ‘Eeeeww, they’re doing *that* again,’ she thought disgustedly. It made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever why they would touch mouths. Really, these elves did some very odd things sometimes…

*****

Elvish translations:

elleth – female elf
Mîr – jewel
pen-dithen – little one

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Inwe Saralonde