That time of the year
Jan. 27th, 2007 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
olorielI have always been convinced that cats are clever. To be precise, I've always been convinced that the cats who graciously permit us to share their appartment are clever. They are capable of organized raids, subtle deception and, above all, overpowering cuteness. Their faces are human-like enough to display intelligible mimics.
It was not too much of a surprise, therefore, when they started talking this morning.
To be precise, it was 'náro that started.
As every morning, he had taken his place at the foot end of the bed, staring at us balefully until one of us got up to refill the feeding dish. As Mr. Darcy tends to scratch and stalk around on nocturnally filled bladders from 6:20 onwards, that usually doesn't take too long. Nor did it today.
"Good morning, Darcy, good morning, 'náro," I said sleepily.
"I cannot remember permitting you to address me thus familiarly," said the latter. I blinked - not so much because he spoke, but rather because he hadn't voiced this complaint earlier. (Even without human words, the kitten is usually very apt at voicing complaints.) I told him as much.
"I have tried to be patient," he said in as dignified a manner as his high, kittenish voice permitted. "But enough is enough."
"I see," said I, deciding to play along for now. "How should I address you then?"
"Lord Fëanáro will do."
"Of course," said I, trying hard not to laugh.
"I am not joking," the kitten pointed out. "You named me rightly; surely you know what this means..."
"What, that you'll kill me if I don't cooperate?"
"Not necessarily so drastic. Unless I have to, of course."
"I should hope not too many people would approve of such an act."
"Kinslaying," he explained, turning to his side, "is an underappreciated art."
I raised my eyebrows. "I am not really your kin."
"That makes it all the easier."
"Charming. May I get up and feed you now, or is that to uncooperative?" I said, in a tone that should make clear that I was not impressed.
"No, I will permit that. Not that disgusting stuff from the can, however."
Thus 6:30 found me in the kitchen, stir-frying the minced beef that had originally been meant for dinner. He was watching critically; Mr Darcy sat next to him and watched my work just as intently, but he did not deign to speak to me also. With a sigh, I filled the good beef into the feeding dish once it was cooled down.
"Very well," 'náro said once he had sated his appetite. "And now I need your help."
"Do you? Such an honour."
He fixed me with a stare from amber-coloured eyes. "This is no joking matter."
"Oh, I wasn't joking, I assure you."
"Yes you were. I can smell your thoughts, and I don't like the smell, if you get my meaning."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. What can I do for you then, as you're asking so nicely?"
"I want my old shape again."
It took me a while to stop looking dumbstruck.
"Your old shape," I asked then.
"Yes. You know, tall, fair, raven hair, the whole business."
I'd quite like that, I thought, though I didn't say anything.
"And clothing," he added.
Damn, I thought. Aloud, I said, "I don't think I can help you there."
"Oh yes you can. You have a human body - frail and clumsy, but at least it's got opposing thumbs."
"And that's enough?"
"You just have to organize some things. Get something to write, so you can take a list..."
Shaking my head - but also secretly curious - I jotted down the list of magical and mysterious ingredients he told me, and then was ushered to begin the search...
And that's why this is posted so late: The kitten - I still refuse to call him Lord - hasn't permitted me to update earlier. Fortunately, he has now fallen asleep, so I could type these lines.
I do not dare sharing the list of magical ingredients with you, though. I think he'd wake if I did. After all, he can smell my thoughts.
... yes, I fail. Um. Happy Rabbit Hole Day?
It was not too much of a surprise, therefore, when they started talking this morning.
To be precise, it was 'náro that started.
As every morning, he had taken his place at the foot end of the bed, staring at us balefully until one of us got up to refill the feeding dish. As Mr. Darcy tends to scratch and stalk around on nocturnally filled bladders from 6:20 onwards, that usually doesn't take too long. Nor did it today.
"Good morning, Darcy, good morning, 'náro," I said sleepily.
"I cannot remember permitting you to address me thus familiarly," said the latter. I blinked - not so much because he spoke, but rather because he hadn't voiced this complaint earlier. (Even without human words, the kitten is usually very apt at voicing complaints.) I told him as much.
"I have tried to be patient," he said in as dignified a manner as his high, kittenish voice permitted. "But enough is enough."
"I see," said I, deciding to play along for now. "How should I address you then?"
"Lord Fëanáro will do."
"Of course," said I, trying hard not to laugh.
"I am not joking," the kitten pointed out. "You named me rightly; surely you know what this means..."
"What, that you'll kill me if I don't cooperate?"
"Not necessarily so drastic. Unless I have to, of course."
"I should hope not too many people would approve of such an act."
"Kinslaying," he explained, turning to his side, "is an underappreciated art."
I raised my eyebrows. "I am not really your kin."
"That makes it all the easier."
"Charming. May I get up and feed you now, or is that to uncooperative?" I said, in a tone that should make clear that I was not impressed.
"No, I will permit that. Not that disgusting stuff from the can, however."
Thus 6:30 found me in the kitchen, stir-frying the minced beef that had originally been meant for dinner. He was watching critically; Mr Darcy sat next to him and watched my work just as intently, but he did not deign to speak to me also. With a sigh, I filled the good beef into the feeding dish once it was cooled down.
"Very well," 'náro said once he had sated his appetite. "And now I need your help."
"Do you? Such an honour."
He fixed me with a stare from amber-coloured eyes. "This is no joking matter."
"Oh, I wasn't joking, I assure you."
"Yes you were. I can smell your thoughts, and I don't like the smell, if you get my meaning."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. What can I do for you then, as you're asking so nicely?"
"I want my old shape again."
It took me a while to stop looking dumbstruck.
"Your old shape," I asked then.
"Yes. You know, tall, fair, raven hair, the whole business."
I'd quite like that, I thought, though I didn't say anything.
"And clothing," he added.
Damn, I thought. Aloud, I said, "I don't think I can help you there."
"Oh yes you can. You have a human body - frail and clumsy, but at least it's got opposing thumbs."
"And that's enough?"
"You just have to organize some things. Get something to write, so you can take a list..."
Shaking my head - but also secretly curious - I jotted down the list of magical and mysterious ingredients he told me, and then was ushered to begin the search...
And that's why this is posted so late: The kitten - I still refuse to call him Lord - hasn't permitted me to update earlier. Fortunately, he has now fallen asleep, so I could type these lines.
I do not dare sharing the list of magical ingredients with you, though. I think he'd wake if I did. After all, he can smell my thoughts.
... yes, I fail. Um. Happy Rabbit Hole Day?
