The Adventures of Arthur Mouse

 Arthur very ordinary little brown mouse.

Little brown mice are generally somewhat nervous, but Arthur was rather more nervous than most other mice.

Arthur lives in a hedgerow growing on the side of a field next to Dumble Wood along with his brothers and sisters plus his many cousins and uncles and aunts. The hedgerow provided everything that a mouse could ever need. Food, Arthur's absolute favourite, hazelnuts, expect, of course, when the blackberries were ripe, then it was a difficult choice. Shelter, a mouse needs shelter almost as it needs food. A mouse, mice are on the menu for lots of other creatures that shared the hedgerow and the surrounding woods.

Foxes, stoats, owls, the kestrel hovering on the wind, the cats from the farm and even the buzzard floating way up high. The list seemed endless, and so it was quite understandable that Arthur was somewhat nervous. He always remembered the First Rule from the Great Mouse Book of Learning.

If it is a meat eater and it has sharp teeth and claws, it will eat mice.

The hedgerow that was Arthur's home ended where Dumble Wood began. Just inside the wood was a small stream crossed over by a stone bridge and just beyond the bridge grew the hazel trees and biggest hazelnuts. Mice loved hazelnuts, and when the nuts were ripe, they would leave the hedge and scurry across the bridge, keeping as close to the low wall at the sides to get as much shelter as possible. Many of Arthur's family did not return from a trip to the hazelnut grove.

Now that word had come down through the hedgerow that a terrible new creature had taken up residence under the bridge that crosses the stream into the wood where the best hazelnuts grew. The story, passed on from mouse to mouse, was that this terrible creature caught mice as they scampered across the bridge. It popped them a sack and would then eat them for a snack. At least, that was what Brock, the badger had said. Brock had also given the terrible creature a name. It was a Troll.

Under a bridge was a troll's favourite place to live. Damp, gloomy and with a ready supply of things to eat crossing over the bridge and, at a pinch, fish could be caught. A troll could hear the lightest of little feet or paws on the bridge, and if it was a small something making the noise, it very quickly ended up in the troll's tummy.

As soon as he had heard about the troll under the bridge, Arthur made up his mind that for the time being the big juicy hazelnuts up in Dumble Wood would stay in Dumble Wood and he, Arthur, would just have to make do with the few small miserable nuts that grew in the hedge.

Poor Arthur he was so nervous that, even when he did pluck up enough courage to argue over a little nut with another member of his family Arthur lost out as he was always looking over his shoulder just in case something with sharp teeth or sharp claws might hear or see him. It just was not very fair, and Arthur began to get thinner and thinner, and every time he closed his eyes all he could dream about were the big fat juicy hazelnuts just waiting for him across the bridge in Dumble Wood. In the end, Arthur was so desperate that one dark night, just before the moon rose, he left the safety of the hedgerow and set out on the dangerous trip to the hazelnut trees in Dumble Wood.

The troll meanwhile had lost his supply of tasty mice and had to make do with the odd rabbit that tried to cross the bridge, and he had even caught a few sticklebacks in the stream. Fish were not his favourite dish, and sticklebacks were his least favourite fish. Like most trolls, he swallowed his meals with very little chewing and the sharp spines of the sticklebacks stuck in his throat and made him cough an awful lot. When the troll dozed off, he dreamt of tasty plumb little mice crossing his bridge. So when Arthur set off to cross the bridge, he had hardly put one small paw on the bridge when up popped the troll who quickly grasped him by his tail. Arthur was lifted high in the air as the troll was going to pop him straight into his mouth. Arthur squeaked.

“Wait”.

“Why,” replied the troll, who tummy was now very rumbly.

"I am too thin to be even a small mouthful for such a large troll as you," said Arthur as he swung just above the troll's brown and unbrushed teeth.

“T'is true," said the troll, "you are a skinny little chap, but I have not tasted mouse for several days, and you will just have to do."

Now Arthur looked doomed as he stared down into the mouth of the hungry troll. Even he looked down the moon popped out from behind a cloud and there glinting in the pale light Arthur could see several fish bones stuck in the troll's throat. Quick as a flash, as he was by now quite anxious to save himself from those terrible teeth, Arthur squeaked,

“You do not want to eat me. I am so bony I will just stick in your throat.”

The troll paused for a moment.

“So you might,” replied the troll “and then I shall end up with a coughing fit.”

“Not nice," said Arthur. "So can we do a deal?"

“What's a deal?" asked the troll as he lowered his hairy arm so that Arthur was just about level with his eye."Can I eat a deal?"

Trolls, it has to be said are not very bright..

"Oh yes, you can eat this deal," Arthur explained that he was on his way to eat the wonderful juicy hazelnuts that grew on the other side of the bridge. Once he has chewed his way through a small mountain of nuts he would be as fat as a fat mouse could be. Round and sleek and quite delicious.

"And," said Arthur, "As I live in the hedgerow on this side of the bridge, I shall have to come back this way to get home so you can catch me as I across back and I guarantee not to stick in your throat."

For several moments the troll thought and as he considered his arm dropped down until Arthur’s paws touched the ground once more. The troll thought some more and to help with his thinking he needed to scratch his hairy chin. Deep in thought, he let go of Arthur's tail. Without pausing to take a breath, Arthur rushed across the bridge. On the far side, he paused for breath and looked back.

“You will come back when you are fat and sleek” roared the troll.

“That's the deal" squeaked an out of breath little brown mouse.

The hazelnuts that grew in Dumble Wood that year seemed better than ever. Arthur stuffed himself with large round plumb juicy hazelnuts. In a few short days, he was round and fat, and his brown coat glistened. Now came the tricky bit. Arthur has not the slightest intention of keeping his part of the deal with the troll. But that did mean that he could not go back to his hedgerow which was back over the bridge. So taking a deep breath, Arthur made up his mind to travel deeper into Dumble Wood and much further than any of his family had travelled before. It was a risk but better by far than the certainty ending up in a hungry troll's tummy if he tried to go back.

Beyond the hazelnut trees the nature of the wood changed. Dark green holly trees barred his way. Under the trees lay layer upon layer of dried prickly holly leaves. Crossing over the prickly carpet took time and care because Arthur did not want to get prickles in his paws nor did he want to make too much noise. At last, he was through and once again the wood changed. Now oak trees towered about the little mouse. It was as Arthur was passing close by one of these large trees that he noticed a bright red door at the base of the tree. Looking closer at the door he could see a rather smart and shiny number 3. Had you seen the door you might have thought that it was a little bit tiny, but to a small brown mouse, it was a rather large and grand door. Getting closer Arthur saw that a notice had been pinned up next to the door. He could see that it was written quite neatly in bright, bold writing.

Help Wanted

Applicants will need to brave, have a sense of adventure and be prepared to travel.

Apply within

Arthur considered the details. He was not brave, he was not looking for adventure, and he really thought that travelling was somewhat dangerous. All things considered, Arthur thought, that's not for me. He was just about to move on when he heard a fearsome sound. A long drawn out screech of an owl close by. In a rush, he knocked on the door and without waiting for a reply he pulled open the door and fell head over heels inside just as a large shadow past outside.

“Oh, please, do come in,” a quiet voice said. “Have you come about the job?”

Arthur was flat on his back and quite breathless after his narrow escape.

“Owl, there was an owl. I only just made it in time.”

“That would Oswald. He lives higher up in the tree, in number 3C, and he is quite partial to mice for his tea.”

“Now let me see.” The voice now sounded quite close to Arthur's head but as he was still on his back his view was limited, and all that Arthur could see was a pair of rather smart black boots. Boots, thought Arthur, black boots, shiny black boots, but what or who wears boots in Dumble Wood. But before he could answer his own question something hard and rather sharp poked him right in his tummy.

“Rather round I see. Too many nuts I would guess. But we can soon get that sorted. Good big ears though. Now let me see your teeth.”

Then, without so much as a please or even a may I, the black boots moved around and before Arthur could so much as squeak his mouth was opened, and a small face peered in.

"More light I think," it said and, with that, a bright light dazzled Arthur so that all he could see were spots. "Good teeth, quite sharp at the front too. All very good."

By now Arthur had got his breath back and, with something of an effort, rolled over so that, at last, everything in the room was the right way up. Once the spots before his eyes had stopped flashing he could see that the black boots were attached to two legs and that the two legs belong to a fairy. Arthur knew a fairy when he saw one as he had seen several before but only at a distance as they flew past the hedgerow. His mother had told him mouse tales about fairies and how tricky they could be. Not as bad as pixies, who were really tricky and who cheated at games and not nearly as bad as goblins who were really, really wicked as they sometimes ate mice. But still, it was always best to be polite, at least to start with, thought Arthur and I did rather come in uninvited. But before he could say a word the fairy spoke.

“Well, I guess as no one else has applied for the post you get the job. All found, good food, most of the time, and a work suit provided. I trust that this is satisfactory? Any questions? Good, then excuse me as I take my notice down and close the door.”

Any questions indeed? Arthur suddenly found he had at least a hundred questions running around in his head. Who, why, what, where and when. The questions chased each other around in his head.

The door banged shut.

“Of course I had hoped that a passing unicorn might have applied. No offence but a unicorn would have been, how shall we say, a much better ride. But unicorns are very rare in these parts. I don't think we have had one pass this way for well over a hundred years or so. But hey oh, I am forgetting my manners. Can I introduce myself? I am Hector, and it is quite clear that I am a fairy of sorts. You are...?

“Arthur Mouse, at your service” Arthur replied very politely.

"Well met Arthur Mouse, well met indeed. I can see you are, like me, a chap of few words. But as I was saying, I am a fairy of sorts, for as you can see, I do not have any wings. So I don't fly. Well, that not quite true for I can fly on the back of a bird, of course. But I do not fly by myself is what I mean. So I need a steed to carry me, and you look as if you will fit the bill. Once we get you kitted out, you will be a fairy steed – a proper fighting mouse."

As Hector spoke, he waved a short wand around as if it was a sword. Several sparks flew from the tip and whizzed around in a circle.

Arthur was quite taken aback – a fighting mouse, a proper fighting mouse, a proper fighting mouse carrying a fairy! It must be a joke and anyway he had no intention of applying for the job, thank you very much. He was only here because he was trying to escape from the owl. But the more Arthur looked at Hector, the more he could see that the little fairy was quite serious about the whole ridiculous idea. As Arthur very slowly backed towards the door, Hector cut off his retreat by standing between Arthur and the door.

“I was hoping that you might join me for a light snack that I was just about to make before you dropped in. Would honey cakes and a drop of honey mead suit you?”

Arthur's nose quivered and his ears suddenly got a lot pinker. Honey cakes. Honey cakes and honey mead. Quite suddenly all his thoughts of leaving had gone. Mice loved honey in the same way that dwarfs love gold and just like gold you could never have too much honey. Arthur loved honey more than your average mouse, not that he had had much as bees tend to be very protective of their golden treasure, and here he was being offered honey on a plate.

“Come on then” laughed Hector, who knew all about mice and their love of honey, "Follow me."

Arthur, who had already entirely forgotten his mother's warning about tricky fairies, followed Hector through a little door leading into a long passageway that sloped off underground.