Sour Milk

The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.

This is very AU, not to be taken seriously and intended as a mini pantomime for the holiday season.

Dedicated to Juno Magic and Silverwerecat


Sour Milk

The people cheered when the King arrived and the Steward presented the White Rod.

The King disdainfully accepted it, dismissed Faramir and marched through the City; still glaring. Éomer of Rohan’s army followed at his heels, ready to crush any dissent.

The people turned away and returned to their houses.

“Let’s made a nice cup of tea,” suggested one Goodwife, putting on the kettle.

Her husband scowled, as he tasted it. “The milk is sour!”

The City was in turmoil. Not a drop of fresh milk was to be had anywhere!

The King’s gaze had turned all the milk sour!

000

Word of meow summoned the cats of Minas Tirith together. The leader, a large ginger tom, spoke. “We must take action,” he mewed. ”There is no milk left in Minas Tirith that is fit to drink since this new King arrived. The old Stewards never brought such misfortune upon us!”

“I know what to do,” said an old tabby, veteran of many battles. “We shall chase him, scratch him, and spray upon his fine clothing until he mends his ways.”

The cats agreed and made there way to the King’s apartments. Aragorn raged, threw water upon the cats and even drew his sword, but they were too quick for him. Everywhere he turned, there were cats, waiting to trip him up, scratch him and spoil his fine clothes.

Unable to take any more, he called for their leader. ”What do you want?” he demanded of the ginger tom.

“We cats demand that you cease acting like a spoiled tyrant who turns our milk sour,” mewed the cat. “We also demand you recall Steward Faramir as he was always kind to us cats.”

Aragorn bowed his head in shame as he saw his errors at last. None but a cat had dared challenge the King. “I shall be a good King in future,” he promised. “The Steward shall take his place at my right hand. As for you, Master Tom, I would ask you to remain here at my side to teach me humility.”

The cat purred his agreement and commanded the other cats to depart.

From that day forward, Aragorn became a good and wise King, loved by both people and cats.

Never again was the milk sour unless it was left out in the sun. The Citizens of Minas Tirith all lived happily ever after as did the cats!

A/N I was studying the final picture for the There and Back LJ community Advent Challenge Calendar, when a friend challenged me to write a drabble when I said Aragorn’s expression would sour the mik. Another friend asked what the cats thought! This is a 400 word fixed length ficlet

Of course, I do not see Aragorn like this at all.

The cat is based on one of my own.

You can see both the calender picture and the cat leader on my freewebs site under ficlets.

I have just uploaded a new chapter of "A Time to Reap" for those in a more serious mood!