TheWarOfTheRing

The mice were getting ready for Christmas.  It had been small trouble to chew a little Christmas tree for themselves from the bottom of the big one by the staircase in the big hallway, and the merest stick from the garden did for a Yule log, and Wendy frequently sewed, which meant snippets of things with which Dusk and Dawn had made decorations. 'What clever little crafters your children are,' they heard someone remark to their mother, and they felt proud and puffed up for the rest of the day. All the network of skirting and stairwells looked magnificent.  The problem, of course, was food.  The mice lived on this and that throughout the yea