Unexpectedly turned into a cat, Kat falls into Middle-earth with the mission to prevent a death. In a feline form she can only communicate with the elf Legolas - and that he is such an attractive specimen is certainly not helpful...
A humorous (but...
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"The IQ of a mob is the IQ of its most stupid member divided by the number of mobsters."
― Terry Pratchett, Maskerade
37. Meat on the Menu
Kat had never before felt this small. The ground was mostly barren with coarse grass between a scatter of rocks and a few trees; there were no hiding places to be seen. She was trying to make a wide circle around the enemy army, but they were marching much too fast. Relentlessly they came closer, and so did the illuminated area beneath their torches.
Cats were not built for long distance running, and in addition she had been spoiled by her friends, allowing Legolas and later Gandalf to carry her around rather than building up her own strength and endurance. She paid dearly for that inactivity now. In no time her paws felt raw and worn, and her legs trembled in fatigue as she doggedly trudged on.
She heard Sauron's soldiers clearly now. Coarse orc voices chanted something in a foreign language, accompanied by a steady drum beat, and every now and then came a dark growl that made her fur stand on end. They had some sort of monsters with them, and judging by their heavy footfalls they were enormous.
Suddenly Kat's path was blocked. A stream! It was narrower than the Anduin, but looked deep and the water flowed by speedily. If she tried to cross, the current would drag her with it.
Dismayed Kat turned back, but by now the line of torches was close enough that she could see the front orcs' hideous faces in the flickering light. Their stench reached her too, that mix of blood and rotting entrails that seemed to always surround their species. It was too late to escape.
Wildly looking around for a place to hide, Kat's eyes fell on a couple of rocks around her own size. They were better than nothing. Crouching behind the largest of them, she forced herself to be still and not make a sound. The creek behind her should limit the army's passage as well; with luck the enemy would march past without noticing her.
They were upon her now, filing by only a couple of meters away, and at last she saw the source of the hideous growls she had been hearing: a group of gray-skinned, vaguely humanoid creatures towering over the horde of orcs.
Trolls. It had to be; though Kat had only seen the foot of one that time in Moria, and a foot alone had been scary enough. Here the monsters were complete in all their terrifying glory. They had massive necks and bald heads with small, beady eyes, and walked with a stoop, their swinging arms thick as tree trunks.
After the trolls an even stranger sight approached: an elephant cavalry! If that was what it was; the animals were so large she only saw them as dark shapes against the clouded sky. The ground shook like an earthquake when they passed.
Cowering in her hiding place, Kat imagined what the elephants and trolls together would do to the walls of Minas Tirith – and to her friends, for that matter. Could Legolas' arrows penetrate thick elephant skin or a troll's leather armor?
