Like myself. What a coincidence.
Upon being informed of my remarkably unfair and unfortunate treatment, she rushed to my aid with significant pecuniary assistance. In short, she gave me money. Lots of it. Wasn't that nice of her, I hear you say, but I think it's only fair that she be allowed to help herself to feel better. I feel that, by accepting her assistance, I am doing her a good turn. It's my essential good nature speaking. I like doing good. I believe in helping humanity. That's just who I am.
Now, I know this isn't black, and is therefore slightly less sexy, but it's really only for use while out and about. Incognito, so to speak, although that's not really possible for someone of my immense fame. But Apple-Sherie had her own ideas (see above) and she is a lady of immense persuasional capability. I still bear the bruises.
To compensate, she also bought me a lovely new cloak for my performances. That, of course, has to be black. No compromise is possible, when art is in question. And she got me a new horse, a nice fancy grey one, very handsome.
I got the shoes for myself. I was so immensely crushed by the lovely Lady Wrenaya's scorn for my boots, that I went out immediately to refurbish my feet. She saw them last night, and I think she was very impressed. Very impressed indeed. So impressed that she claimed she couldn't walk home, and had to stay the night in the Dancing Goat. Always the gentleman, I immediately offered the use of my room. I hope that Apple-Sherie never finds out.
Talking about the lovely lady Wrenaya, I am moderately perturbed by the string of dorks that trail around behind her. There was another one last night. Forlan, or Dorland, or Forthen, or something like that. He was quite handsome, I suppose, in his way, but that might just be the result of his sexy hair style.
Finally, Apple-Sherie has also bought me a lovely new deluxe house. Well, it is for my own personal and exclusive use, although I believe there is some small matter of rent that she deals with. Nothing to do with me, of course. I don't enquire into such sordid financial details. I am an artist. I am above all that. My new house (or Apple-Sherie's house, perhaps I should say to be perfectly honest) is close to Bree and has three lovely rooms, a bed, two chests, a few rugs and a breakfast table.
What I need now is servant help for cleaning, polishing, and other such mundane matters. I think I shall have to hire servant girl Saini. She looks strong. Marginally clean, but strong. I wonder how much she charges...
In other news, Singamerrydo, one of that merry and very very perversely weird band of dancing bobbits (Singa, Linga, Zinga, Pinga, and Dingaflinger) very nearly had to take occupancy of the jail cell I so recently didn't vacate. Apparently, after our show the other night in the Dancing Goat, she gave a sterling and anatomically unlikely performance with a muffin. I guess she just got a bit overexcited at being in such close company with a music star. I don't know what she was doing with the muffin, but it was certainly illegal and highly unpleasant. Well, unpleasant for the crowd at any rate. Maybe the muffin enjoyed it. Even Beor felt a little ill, and his standards are impressively low. Singa made it out of the Dancing Goat one step ahead of the law. Two steps behind Ash, who has her own reasons for avoiding legal entanglements.
Maybe someone drew a picture. That would be worth a look.