Lucky old Dancing Goat

Shortly I shall be forced into yet another extended stay at the Dancing Goat. Butterbuns will be very pleased, I know, as he loves my playing and he's my good friend. He always tells me how much he appreciates my entertaining his clientele. I'm sure that attendance at the Dancing Goat has increased dramatically since I moved north from Gondor.

Only to be expected, of course. It must be nice for the northern wilds to get a taste of sophisticated culture for a change.

Of course, there's the odd nay-sayer; every so often one hears of bitter and twisted old crones who resent my popularity and make nasty remarks behind my back, but they are few and far between. Pay no attention.

Anyway, as I was saying, it'll be Butterbuns and the Dancing Goat for me for a while, as my Fool is off on travels again, for a week or so. Mostly he'll be swimming in warm water, looking at tropical fish and manta rays. He won't think about me once, I'm quite sure.

I shall have to write to Madam Celestine and see if she runs a delivery service.

Aegthil's guide to looking sexy

Poor Jeta was a bit concerned about her looks the other night. So, as a public service, here are a few useful tips to help out all those struggling with personal appearance issues.

1. First, note that my Fool isn't writing this guide. There is a reason for this. Nobody would ever ask my Fool advice on how to look good. Ever. He knows absolutely nothing about this kind of thing, which you can tell at a glance. A very short glance. He could write a pretty good guide about how to look like a fat, balding, smelly old man, but that's about it.

2. Shave your head. Baldness is super-handsome. No, really, it is. Just look at me and you'll soon realise the truth of this statement.

3. Play a musical instrument, except the bagpipes. Don't play the bagpipes, they make you look like a total moron. My Fool doesn't actually pay the bagpipes, but he manages to look like a total moron anyway, which is pretty hard to do if you're playing a real musical instrument.

4. Play any other musical instrument. Say the theorbo. Flutes and clarinets are not great as you have to blow into them and this puffs your cheeks out, making you look a bit silly.

5. If you want to look manly, horns are OK as they are manly manly instruments and clearly anybody playing a horn has a high testosterone level, even if their cheeks are puffed out. This is pretty obvious, really. Try to avoid girly instruments like the viol, or the violin. Lutes are borderline.

6. If you want the converse, then play the viol, or maybe the harp. I think you have to have blonde hair to play the harp, but I'm not entirely sure on that one.

7. Wear black. No other colour is acceptable.

8. Don't wear boots to a dance. If you do this, beautiful ladies will sneer at your footware. I discovered this fact, at immense personal cost.

9. Say nice things to all the ladies, even if their dresses are really hideous and vile. For example, "Greetings, lovely lady, you are looking most radiantly beautiful tonight." Practise in front of a mirror so that you can say this with a straight face, no matter what she really looks like. Another good expression is "That is such a lovely dress you are wearing, and it makes you look extremely attractive. May I have the name of your tailor?" If she doesn't slap your face, then follow this with "Can I buy you a drink?". I'm not quite sure what to do next, as I've never reached the third stage, but people who ought to know tell me that the next step might be dinner. Or maybe chocolates.

10. Don't shave too often. Stubble is really sexy and it also takes less time.

11. Wash regularly.

12. Trim your nostril hairs.

The 100th Ales and Tales

And a great show it was, too. It began with some strange guy Galahad (Are you sure he was called Galahad?, said my Fool. Course I'm bloody sure, I replied, I'm not stupid. He was called Galahad.) giving some kind of speech with special effects. No idea why. Didn't listen.

But then things got better as the lovely lady Wrenaya agreed to dance with me. Very exciting it was, so exciting I kept treading on her toes. I think I shall commission some dancing lessons from Lennidhren. Wrenaya complained about my boots. Maybe I should think about changing them. Or giving them a polish. Or even a wash. I shall think of something.

There was, however, considerable competition for her attentions, and I ended up getting elbowed aside by some dork. Maybe the same dork I saw before, who knows, but definitely a dork. Does he even know who I am?

What else was there? Some bobbits did something, probably involving food and orifices. I wasn't paying attention to them, only to the lovely Wrenaya. And then somebody else, not even Beor, played the bagpipes again. Ouch. Nasty. Then some more bobbits. Tinki gave me some stuff to smoke, which cannot possibly have been legal. Not this stuff, no way. I bowed to lots of people and mumbled a bit. Then I fell over.

Old Wynyards did their thing, led by that nasty bagpipe man, Beor. I really cannot understand why he was asked to lead the house band. A band led by a bagpipe player? Could Ales and Tales sink any lower? Still, the evening was redeemed by a performance by Gaigaggil which was, in the opinion of my Fool, seriously classy. A lesson in quiet, understated elegance. (I thought it was less than adequate, but I didn't say anything. At least it didn't involve bagpipes.)

Actually, talking about understated elegance, that is something which nobody has ever said about my Fool. Ever. He tends to be a polarising person. People either like him or hate him. He's been fired from multiple bands for playing too many notes, playing too loud, playing too long, or for suggesting that the band leader do obscene and anatomically improbable things (this was the most recent occasion). He's had multiple complaints from bar owners, who don't like the things he's said to the crowd. (Usually the crowd doesn't mind, they're too drunk. It's a bar, mister bar owner, lighten up. Geez. Ahem.) But there are the others, too, who don't mind him, and just get up to dance.

The sad thing is, of course, is that he just can't keep his mouth shut, and causes offence often, even when he's not trying to, and doesn't want to.

I apologise for him, yet again. My Fool is definitely an embarrassment.

The Geriatric's MMO, by the Fool

My son is 17. He plays online games quite a lot. That is an understatement.

To him, the only reason (and I really do mean the only reason)  for playing an online game is to kill other players. Preferably with one shot, and then stand on their corpse, grinding their face into the dirt. And even better if they come back for more. You can do it again. And again. And again.

This, apparently, never gets old.

We played WoW together for a number of years, and he was always willing to help me do boring stuff. You know, quests and things like that. But all he really cared about was killing other players, grinding their faces etc etc. See above.

As a side note, he tried to train me to join his arena team. Dad, just run out when the doors open and do this then do that then heal stuff and then run behind the pillar, DAD run behind the ...DAD DAD, the other side of the pill .... Dad, you've died again. How can you be so STUPID? Why didn't you run behind the pillar? I told you to. What is your problem, Dad? OK, let's try again. This time, run behind the pillar, OK?

Now, run out, heal me, do this, do that, RUN BEHIND THE PILLAR..... too late. You died AGAIN, Dad. OK, let's try this again....

Etc.

I was never a successful or productive member of his arena team.

Anyway, my son continues on his merry blood-soaked online career, and watches with bemusement at me playing LOTRO.

What are you doing now, Dad? Why are you playing music, Dad? What for? Why are you talking to those people? What is everybody doing? Is this some sort of concert, Dad? What's going on?

Why is everybody putting a fullstop at the end of their sentences? You don't need to do that, it's just a pointless waste of time. And why does everybody talk so much with all that complicated sentence stuff, what's the point, I don't get it? Nobody is doing anything! I can't believe how boring that game is.

I tell you, Dad, LOTRO is an MMO for old retired people.

A rare outing

I haven't been allowed out much, as my Fool has been working on the theme tune for Ales and Tales. Yet another pathetic piece of musical trivia, I fear, but he enjoys himself, I suppose, which stops him irritating me so much.

My enforced sojourn has been made all the pleasanter by fond memories of our latest performance in the Dancing Goat. Beor played those nasty pipes again, goodness knows why. I've told him often enough what they are like, but he just doesn't listen.

Still, my groupies didn't seem to mind them so much, mostly because I'm sure they were just concentrating on me, not the pipes. Delna and Ashmara were clearly very taken indeed with my imposing good looks and nice new black robe. Ashmara didn't make it all that obvious I suppose, but I can interpret her superficial rudeness. I understand what she's really trying to say, deep down.

Delna was slightly more obvious. Just slightly. My Fool didn't let me take full advantage as he's not too keen on my leaving a string of broken hearts behind, but what can I do? Can I make myself less handsome, less charming, less talented?

No, I didn't think so.

Oh, and the music? Pfft. More stuff like my Fool writes, but played on the pipes, so worse. My Fool enjoys it, though, so I endure.

Aegthil's guide to Tailoring

My Fool has noticed that there are a whole bunch of guides to various things in Middle Earth. Guides for this, for that, for whatever you want, really, but a lot of them are totally incomprehensible, and probably full of arrant nonsense.

He wanted to write a guide himself, telling people how to do stuff. I vetoed this idea, as my Fool is a fool, not to mention an ignoramus. He doesn't know anything about anything, so how could he possibly write a guide? Exactly. He can't. You know it, I know it.

So I told my Fool not to worry. I will write the guides for you, I said. Fortunately, I am extremely talented at many, many things, and so writing a guide is easy peasy for me.

I thought I would start with a guide to Tailoring, as this is a crafting profession that is often misunderstood.



Introduction: Tailors make stuff

This is not always obvious, but it's true. Tailors can make all kinds of cloaks and shoulder pads and armor and shoes and hats. That kind of thing. Once they get really good they can make plate armour from cotton cloth but I haven't quite reached the highest levels so the details are a mite hazy. It seems rather unlikely, but this information comes from a reliable source.

Tools

Tailors use special tools, called Tailor Tools. I've always thought that to be a good descriptive name. This is a box which contains needles and thread, as well as a thimble and an instruction manual. You have to purchase one of these special boxes from a Tailor expert person, but it only costs about 1 gold, which is very cheap if you think about all the benefits that will accrue.

I got my own special Tailor Tools from a nice expert Tailor man outside the Dancing Goat, in Bree. At first I thought that 1 gold was a bit pricy for a few needles and a thimble, but this nice man was able to prove, quite conclusively, that it's an excellent long-term investment. And he was so right. For only one gold you get to make your own shoes and hats! For your lifetime! That is a serious savings, right there, just in shoes and hats.

Ingredients

To make Tailor stuff, you need to collect hides and leather. This is a relatively complicated process so listen carefully.

Again, you first need a special tool, called a skinning knife, which you can also buy from a Tailor expert person. They cost quite a bit less than the Tailor Tools, only around 800 silver. If you buy both the Tailor Tools and the skinning knife in a job lot you will likely get a discount, depending on your reputation. Usually around 42%. For example, I only paid 2 gold 200 silver for both items, which comes out to be a discount of exactly 59%. Pretty impressive, really.

Of course, most people won't get a bargain like that. I only got it because the nice Tailor person outside the Dancing Goat had listened to some of my latest songs, and was a real fan. I signed his autograph book.

OK, now once you've got your skinning knife, you have to go out and kill stuff like trolls and bats. Stuff with hides. Once they're dead, you take your knife and skin them to get a hide. Your pack can hold quite a few hides at once, but it's best not to collect too many before you convert them to leather. Uncured hides will smell nasty. Best to keep your backpack odor free. That nasty rotting hide smell can get into other stuff, like your gig clothes or your potions, and it's very difficult to get rid of.

Now that you've got some hides, you go to a special workbench to turn your hides into leather. These workbenches can be found in most towns and camping places and are always close to running water, for sanitary reasons.

Making hides into leather

This is where things get really tricky. 

It takes 17 hides to make one piece of medium leather, but only 12 hides to make a piece of light leather. To make exceptional leather you need only 5 hides, but you also need 7 pieces of light leather and 3 pieces of medium leather.

For example, to make 3 pieces of exceptional leather you need 15 pieces of light leather (i.e., 22 hides) and 9 pieces of medium leather (i.e., 24 hides) and an additional 5 hides because it's exceptional. 

This is a total of 78 hides for one piece of exceptional leather. So you can see Tailors need to kill a lot of trolls and bats.

Making leather into stuff

Finally, you take this leather you just made, and turn it into stuff like hats and shoes. It's a very straightforward process, and there's really only one thing to watch out for here. If you use some sort of thread to make the hat it turns into what's called a "medium hat" which lots of people can't wear, even if they look very good in it. But if you use a piece of cloth you get what's called a "light hat" which minstrels like me can wear.

If you use both cloth and thread you get a "heavy hat" which is a sort of combination of light and medium hats.

The same principle applies to making shoes.

Also, I've heard that there are special ingredients you can use to make "special medium hats" or "special light hats". These special ingredients are things like brimstone and raspberries and other stuff you can collect while out killing trolls and bats. I've never managed to get this special thing to work, though, so I suspect it might not be real, just a rumour.

Conclusions

Tailoring is a useful and profitable crafting profession. Don't worry about messing up your first tries. We all mess up at first. Well, except me, of course, but then not everybody can be like me.

So, if at first you don't succeed, try and try again. When you are walking around in some lovely hat and shoes that you made yourself, it will all be worthwhile.

Take pride in your appearance. Be a Tailor.

Angmar. Shudder.

Angmar is a nasty, nasty place, even worse than the Shire. I mean the Shire is disgusting enough, full of those fat little short people things called bobbits or something, and they're all so fat and happy, eating pie and smiling and holding hands, and clapping songs, being nosey about their neighbours, and the trees are all so pretty and the hedges are all so well clipped and all the farms are oh so totally productive and happy, and it all just makes my teeth ache. And what is it with these bloody mathoms? I don't know what a mathom is, and I don't want to know, and if you ask me for a mathom one more time, mister, I'm going to take your gift mathom and shove it....

Ahem.... well. Let me not get distracted. From Angmar, which is the point of this diary entry.

Angmar. Yes. Nasty place.

For a start, it's so grey. Grey. Greeeeeeeyyyyyyy. Grey grass, grey hills, grey grey rocks; even the water is grey. Well, let me tell you, Mister Evil Witch King, I know you've got to be all evil and nasty, oooooh oooooooh, but grey ain't the way to do it. Nope. If you want to be evil go and kill a few thousand women and children, torture a hundred people to death in unspeakable ways, go play some Shire Country Music, that kind of thing.

Don't just rely on a pathetic colour scheme. Grey isn't evil. Grey is just dull. Grey is boring. The Grey Havens. Yawn. The Grey Wizard. Ho hum. I bet a White Wizard would kick his arse any day of the week. Really. You can still be unspeakably evil with a dash of violet trim, a touch of chartreuse, maybe a highlight of crimson. Really, you can. Try it out, you'll see.

Anyway, I get these menial jobs to do around Angmar, so I hold my nose, grit my teeth and start doing them. Anarwald comes to help, because he's a true gentleman. Go here, do this, kill these cool looking bird women things, collect lumps of coal, kill a few northerners (by the way, with all this killing of northerners, who's really the evil one here? Hath not a northerner eyes? Hath not a northerner hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? If you prick them, do they not bleed? if you tickle them, do they not laugh? If you poison them, do they not die? Should we really kill them in droves? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. Ahem, woops, distracted again.)


As I was saying, you do these menial jobs and eventually get sent all the way up to the North to some place with some barbaric name such as Tauah Crucaahck or something, where the Council of the North hangs out. Fine, no problem, I dodge all the beasties to get up there, secure in the knowledge that they are bound to have a stable master and I can at least get a ride back.

Aha, sucker, no way, says the Moron Stable Master. You're not our Friend. No ride for you. Hullo!, say I, what do you mean, I'm not your friend? I'm the famous Aegthil. Aegthil of Gondor. I can't be friends with all my fans, or I'd spend my whole salary on Seasonal Greetings cards. And I earn a crap load, believe me. Just give me a damn ride back to civilisation or I'll write you a satire that'll turn you into a Dwarven curry. And you know which end of a Dwarf that ends up at.

No response. No response at all.

So I'm stuck up here, in the back-end of Middle Earth, freezing my butt off. And all the women are short and hairy.

The importance of looking your best

I finally found myself a proper outfit to wear during performances. I know you will all be delighted. Feel free to cheer. My Fool has finally figured out how to include a picture here, and so that is my own very handsome self over to the side. That is what famous minstrels are supposed to wear.

And, not surprisingly, it has had an immediate effect on the hearts of the ladies of Bree. Well, why wouldn't it? Who could resist, I ask you?

Together with some other members of Aegthil's Social and Participatory Mountain and Valley Orchestral Band, I played in an impromptu concert outside the Dancing Goat in Bree. I hesitate to call it a musical performance, as Beorbrand played the bagpipes. I think a very good argument can be made that any performance including bagpipes cannot possibly be called musical. They are a vile contraption, fit only for the amusement of inanimate objects like fish. Maybe pigs, too. Why any self-respecting person would ever blow into them is entirely beyond my comprehension.

Mind you, is Beor really self-respecting? I suspect he might not be. His face, to be sure, bears a remarkable resemblance to the rear end of his horse. It was a bit hard to tell which way he was facing while sitting on his horse. If I had a face like that, blowing into bagpipes, I think I'd ask to be put down. The visual picture of bagpipes inserted into a horse's arse is disturbing.

Moving right along, let me get to the real point. While I was playing I noticed that I was being explicitly admired by a red-haired member of the audience. She was clearly quite taken with my good looks (as opposed to Beor's) and my super-duper sexy outfit. I could tell she was having trouble restraining herself from throwing herself at my feet. I don't think she noticed my minor drooling problem, but even if she had I'm sure that wouldn't have mattered at all. A handsome face and extreme talent conquers all.

She smiled at me. I smiled at her.

So, when we took a break (to ingest mind-altering substances) I introduced myself. Not that I needed to, she would have known very well who I am, everybody does of course, but it's best to be polite. It turns out that she speaks a foreign language and is a bit difficult to understand, but I think I gathered that her name is Renia, or Wrenia, or Wrenaya or something like that. There was some dork standing beside her, but I've no idea what his name was. Don't care either. I didn't pay any attention to him, of course, him being a dork and all, not to mention that he was trying to attract Renia's attention too.

Fat chance. I've got the looks, I've got the talent. And now, I've got the groupies. All is as it should be.

Finally, I can breathe again

My Fool finally managed to fix things so that I can now talk to people again, and breathe freely. What a relief. I celebrated by going up north into Angmar to help out some of those giant thingies. The ones with horns, that look like a cross between a troll, a giant and an auroch.

Which raises the interesting question of how exactly a troll, a giant and an auroch would mate. Let's just not go there.

I also managed to become an ally of the Tailor's Guild. Not so difficult to do, really, just a bit time-consuming. I have no idea what is next. Super-ally? Relation? Blood-brother? I suppose I shall find out in due course.

Actually, while we're on the subject of ignorance, my Fool is rather enjoying this aspect of not knowing stuff. You'd think he'd get used to this feeling, wouldn't you, as he spends practically his entire life not knowing stuff, but apparently this is special. This world is a rather complicated place, with all sorts of reputations, and gear, and festivals, and legendary things, and dungeons, and quests, and special epic quests, and recipes and weird looking short people things, and he doesn't know anything about any of it.

And because of this, our travels together are almost entirely a voyage of discovery, for both of us. We have no idea what is around the bend, what comes next, where to go, to whom to talk. We don't know whether we are doing the right thing (we don't care, rather), we don't know where to go to do our menial jobs, we don't know whether this particular monster will deal to us in 2 seconds flat, or whether we'll kick its behind. We're not quite sure why some monsters look a bit different from others, and why they are harder to kill. We really have no idea how to visit dungeons, or what they look like, or even how to get to them.

I've healed a few groups of servants, but not many, and not often. How best to do this? I have no idea, and neither does my Fool. How do I even meet groups of servants to kill stuff for me? This isn't clear.

And there is so much to learn. You think you are making headway, only to discover that, actually, you still don't know anything, and that you just did something very stupid. What on earth should be done with all the recipes I collect? I have no idea, so I just vendor them. What on earth should I do with tallow candles? With rock salt? With brimstone, or whatever it is? I have no idea. What is all this tailoring mastery stuff? What is that flax used for? I have no idea.

Take dancing, for example. I had no idea there were all different kinds of dancing, not until the wondrous Lennidhren showed me (which is why she got a Pavane written for her). And then I had to figure out how to learn them, which wasn't so trivial. Well, I mean it is trivial. For other people and for me of course. But not for my Fool, who is of considerably below-average intelligence.

And what's with the fishing? What's it for? Yes, I know. Catching fish. What else, though? I have no idea, but that will have to wait for another day, as there are so many other things to learn right now.

Right now, my goal is to get a proper black outfit for performances. I think I have found a possible robe and boots, but I have to save up to get them. Soon, I hope. But are there better choices? I have no idea.

I'm far too embarrassed to ask continual questions of the Lonely Mountain Band. They are so helpful when I do ask, and so willing to spend time, that one feels duty-bound not to ask too much, or too often. It is easy to wear out a welcome.

The price of this is an opaque haze of ignorance. It's not a great price, though, as the haze is an enjoyable one. There is an awful lot of pleasure to be gained from discovering things for yourself, in this vast and complex world that is Middle Earth.

Another Ales and Tales

I managed to persuade my Fool to skip out of work again for a few hours, so that I could perform to adoring crowds at Ales and Tales. In an old quarry, can you believe it? I suppose this smacks of Bohemian disrespect for natural authority, for a sort of devil-may-care attitude of irreverence, for a casual approach to superficially important matters.

Maybe so, but I cannot help waiting for the time when I get to perform in a situation that is more appropriate to my station. There is nothing inherently wrong with a star trailer. With bottled mineral water of just the kind I like. Of comfortable couches and sofas in a landscaped, high-security, back-stage area, of free chocolate-covered raisins, of hordes of fawning minions running around after my every whim. Nothing wrong with this at all. So what, exactly, is the problem? The Lonely Mountain Band seems unable to provide these basic necessities, and I begin to question either their will or their competence to do so.

Of course, people refused, once again, to play my own compositions. Total, unreasoning, refusal. I just don't understand. My Fool's music is derivative and superficial, mine is deep and intellectual. I suppose there is just no accounting for taste.

I remain unable to do much else, apart from practise my fingering moves. Every time I try and talk to someone almost anywhere they tell me they can't talk to me but if only I paid them money they would talk to me quite happily.

Quite frankly, this is outrageous. They should be paying me, not the other way around. The conversational gems that drop from my lips should be treasured as momentos. Especially by someone who is short, hairy and ugly. I name no names, but it does seem that almost everyone in the Misty Mountains fits that description.

I suppose that if I lived in such a vile, nasty cold area, covered in snow and ice, I also would want to be short and hairy. I can understand that. But why do they have to be ugly as well? Is it necessary to cope with the climate? Maybe it's just not necessary to be beautiful (like me) as they never uncover enough to make it matter. I certainly wouldn't, not in those temperatures.

At any rate, even those short, hairy, ugly little fellows won't talk to me. Oh, the humiliation.

I can tell it's going to be a long trek to level 400.

Whingeing and moaning, from the Fool

I don't like blogs that whinge and moan all the time. I got nerfed, I hate Blizzard, I hate Turbine, I am going to quit the game, blah blah, yeah yeah, we know, get over yourself, jam a sock in it. But my efforts to give money to Turbine have this sort of surreal epic quality that is worthy of one post, just for the record and my blood pressure. Well, not really my blood pressure. I don't actually care all that much. A computer game is just a computer game. But it's still highly amusing in a kind of masochistic way.

So Turbine has this lovely web site. Enter your details, put in your credit card, hit the button, oh yeah, you're there, baby.

Oh. Wait. Not this time. It doesn't like credit cards from New Zealand, which is where I'm from. Or maybe it doesn't like me; it's not entirely clear.

I then ring Turbine at some ungodly hour of the morning (for me, anyway) and explain that I really am trying to give them money, and will they please damn well take it. Oh, says the rep, here's the problem. You've entered your address incorrectly. We have a very strong security policy and we demand that the address you enter is exactly the same blah blah blah.

Bullshit, think I, but I'm way too canny to say so. Oh, Wonderful!. How Impressive! I Really Like that Security Policy! It's so Nice to feel Secure at All Times from Credit Card Fraud. Wow. Turbine is such a Great Company, and thank you So Much for your Help with this. Sir. One wee problem. I didn't get the address wrong. I checked. Multiple times. Very carefully. That is my address. Trust me. It really is. It's even the address on my credit card file at the bank. Really. It is. Truly so.

A short silence falls.

Well, says the rep brightly, I'll just go ahead and enter your details now and we'll have you all fixed up in no time. Is it just me, or does everybody else hate high chirpy voices with American accents? Maybe it's just me.

Of course, the rep could only put 3 months of time on my credit card. I have no idea why only 3. Maybe it's a special rule for people from New Zealand.

And now, the time has come for me to pay Turbine money again. And hooray, this time my credit card appears to be working, I select the 12 month option, read the fine print (yeah, right, like you believe that) and hit the button again ...

... only to find that this particular "upgrade path" is illegal, or immoral, or something like, and at any rate is just not allowed. No way. Take a hike, asshole (in a high chirpy voice with an American accent).

So poor Aegthil is stuck. Every time he takes a deep breath a little gold coin pops up on the screen and says "You are now eligible to take a deep breath. To purchase the breathing ability please visit the LOTRO store".

I suppose that every cloud has a silver lining. Anything that annoys Aegthil is probably a good thing.

The Minstrel's clothes

Clothes, or the lack thereof, have been a source of some angst to me over the past few months. As I pointed out some weeks ago, it has not been easy to find a suitable outfit to wear, one that properly expresses my eminence in the musical world.

As a musician, of course, there is no suitable colour but black. One must always, at any cost, be cool. However, can I find a stylin' black outfit? I think not. I remain with a simple tunic and cloak (and look very handsome, of course, don't worry about that), but I yearn for something more, something classy, something that demonstrates my clear superiority over lesser personages.

My search continues.

However, I have had some limited success with my ordinary travel clothes, the ones I use when I go incognito through the world, killing baddies and generally helping to save the day. My Fool was able to find me a rather nice reddish sort of outfit to do with Isengard. The exact connection escapes me, and I don't really see why I should have to be associated with a bunch of horse thieves, but if this is the best my Fool can do, then needs must.

And to go with this I have just purchased a lovely cloak from the Summer festival people, with a complicated golden tree on the back. With a touch of red dye, to make it match my tunic, I do just look quite the dashing cavalier. My new horse is sort of goldy and reddy, my new clothes are sort of goldy and reddy, and I am now, officially, a sort of goldy reddy fashion icon. Madame Celestine's girls will go wild, I just know it.

It's no good for concerts, of course. One just doesn't play music in armour. Back in Black for that (my Fool hears a song coming on). But for other matters, it will suffice.