WoW and Lotro

My kids have started playing WoW again, so a few days ago I logged in, just for old time's sake. Fired up one of my old characters, entered a dungeon and ... whoa ... "You fucking retard, why didn't you fucking heal me?  H.E.A.L. Can you even spell you idiot healer. heal me heal me heal me heal me heal me, you have to heal me, rez me rez me rez me rez me you have to rez me FUCKING REZ ME. Go go go go go, hurry up, why the fuck are you not going you noob tank ..."

Etc. You get the picture. Why on earth, I thought to myself, would I voluntarily spend my leisure time with people like this? So I promptly logged off, with no intention ever of returning.

My kids enjoy it. Whenever they meet this kind of thing, they just start arguing, backwards and forwards. Nobody actually expects to win, but it's like some sort of game within the game, a game of  scoring abuse points and keeping tally of put-downs. (Not entirely unlike BBB.) It becomes a topic of dinner-table conversation "Oh I was in this dungeon and the rogue was like why didn't you heal me and I was like cause you're just dps and you were standing in the fire and the rogue was like why were you healing the tank he was doing fine so I was like HE WAS FINE BECAUSE I WAS HEALING HIM ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha"

Hilarity ensues. Daddy does a facepalm.

Lotro, on the other hand... well, only in Lotro would you have an extended argument in the forums, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, over whether a hobby horse is... get this... lore appropriate!

Hilarity ensues. Daddy does a facepalm.

Lore appropriate?! I mean, oh for goodness sake, where to start on that one?  There were hobby horses in 1504, no there weren't, yes there were, it doesn't matter since the Tolkien universe is an amalgam of... (insert pompous and long-winded semi-intellectual twaddle), laws of physics are broken, no they aren't, yes they are, who cares about the laws of physics, it's not epic enough, yet it is, not it isn't, it's an insult to Tolkien, not it isn't, yes it is, why shouldn't children play on horses, blah blah blah blah blah.

Not as bad as WoW, I freely admit, but ridiculous enough for all that.

Repeat with me the Aegthil mantra. I do hereby solemnly swear to remain as lore-inappropriate as I damn well want to be, but if I'm stupid enough to pay $50 for it, I shall eat my pink hawtpants. Amen.

Song, by Tuiliel.

http://youtu.be/6BwZDJMLUcQ

Two serious videos in a row. Deary me. I'm not sure that BBB's reputation will ever recover.

This was a challenge, no doubt about it. Lotro has a very limited range of emotional expression, and yet the poem by Tuiliel relied very heavily on emotional content. It was, by the way, a lovely poem. Very well crafted, great metre and rhythm, and a clean storyline. All the ingredients of a good video right there.

However, there's a reason why BBB videos are mostly based on silly things, and foolishness. Not just because BBB people are silly and foolish (although this is undeniable) but also because it's very difficult to do anything else. How do you make foofy elves look sad? Hell, I don't know. You can't really. Crying? Caricatured and pathetic emotes, completely lacking any emotional punch. Hopeless. How do you portray a grieving elf lady, in emotional pain? Well, you just don't. You can try for a million bloody years, but Lotro just doesn't do emotion. Well, at least Lotro and I don't. To be honest, it's probably my own fault, as in a lack of skill or imagination, but hey, one never likes to admit that, so I'll continue to blame Lotro.

Anyway, so I took a rather different tack. Slow shots. Lots of scenery. Still figures. Water, water everywhere. Not a lot of movement. It was a very different style for me, and not easy to adjust to it.

However, I'm reasonably happy with the outcome. I don't think it'll get any better, no matter how much longer I work it over. Bits in the music irritate me also, now, having listened to them so often. Too much plucking guitar arpeggios, not enough variation. But, eventually, enough is enough. I could be rewriting and rewriting for the next 6 months and still not get anywhere better.

Next up, the BBB Yulefest video. All hell will break loose with this one. I am sick of serious. However, I don't have any time to do it. A couple of trips in December really make this tricky, and it's a busy busy time of year. Not to mention that there was mutiny in the ranks, and BBB told me to bloody well piss off. Or something. They wanted to have a life instead, I think. Ingrates!

So it's unlikely to be done by Xmas. But maybe afterwards.

Rudeness and affection, by the Fool

I don't often read the official Landroval forum, mostly out of pique of course, but I do every so often. And the last time I read it (which was 2 minutes ago, as it happens) I found a couple of gems.

Firstly, Orladan calling the Rose Rockstar the Rock Lobster. Sheer brilliance, that, sheer brilliance. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at Aegthil again without thinking of a rock lobster.

Secondly, an off-hand comment by one of the Landroval Times MWE reporters, Molly Bayberry. She commented on the obvious bonds of affection that tie BBB together. It is amazing, to me at least, that this is the first time ever that anyone has commented on this, or, for all I know, even recognised it.

We get a lot of comments (and complaints) that BBB is very rude, very disrespectful, very cynical, outrageous, disruptive, nasty, horrible, etc etc. These complaints come from people in the crowd, people within LMB, people in general. BBB is generally vilified, and not always in fun.

But this is the first time ever that anyone seems to have recognised that this ridiculous bravado, the outrageous rudeness, and the obvious attempts to kick your bandmates in the shins, is actually the sign of a band that likes each other, that respects each other, a band that works together because we enjoy the company, we enjoy the banter, and we enjoy the feeling that we are working together and doing good things. (Well, in our opinion anyway.)

As part and parcel of this, you can be damn sure that, if BBB members pick you out of the crowd to make fun of you, to say rude things about you, and to comment on your nasty fashion sense, well, it's because BBB members actually rather enjoy the inevitable response, and rely on you to make them chortle. In short, we like you, and enjoy your company.

It is always sad when we get the opposite response, and lose a friend. It happens. But fortunately not too often.

The Rose Rockstar's Luxury Stretch Horse

Lovely though my HawtPants are, they do suffer from certain disadvantages when riding a horse. In that... well... padding is not sufficient in certain tender places, and that... er... blisters can appear in one's nether regions. And elsewhere. Nasty.

So I have found it necessary to purchase a special riding outfit, to wear while travelling on my lovely Rose Rockstar Luxury Stretch Horse (all fitted out with the most modern conveniences including a fully licensed bar). This new outfit offers much better protection in important areas, so don't worry, ladies, it's all still in perfect working order!

Whew!

Well. Am I not the most handsome Rose Rockstar Rider you have ever seen? (The correct answer is yes).

And every Rose Rockstar needs some action shots. Here I am practising running over bobbits who step out on to the road. I couldn't actually find any real bobbits, so I had to practise on this sort of goat thing, but I am getting better at aiming. I'll be ready when I see Blue and Carica in Bree. They won't know what's hit them.






Here I am hurrying off to see my dearest Lady Galadriel. She is calling. I must be there for her! She needs my strong arms around her, she needs my hot lips on hers, she needs me to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

I know she will wait for me, as our hearts beat as one.



For my many fans who want to reproduce my outfit, here are the details:

Underneath: Rose Rockstar Luxury Stretch Horse, with fully licensed bar.
On top: Rose Rockstar.
Chest: Shirt, dyed Rose.
Legs: Pants, dyed Rose.
Hands: Gloves, dyed Rose.

If you are having trouble reproducing this exact look, don't worry. A lot of fashion and style is in the manner of wearing, not the actual clothes themselves. You won't have the same innate style that I do, the same eclat, the elan, but that doesn't mean you can't look OK anyway.

Not everybody can be a Rose Rockstar.

The Ride of Eorl

And so, after more hours than he cares to think about, my Fool has finished the latest BBB moving picture, The Ride of Eorl.

It always takes longer than he thinks it will, and yet is not as finished as he was hoping when he started out. Eventually, it all just takes so long that he throws up his hands and refuses to work on it any more. So, if you see any mistakes, don't bother telling my Fool. He won't listen.

My Fool has asked me to give particular thanks to a bunch of people (he even wrote their names down for me) but no way am I going to do that. I'm on strike for this moving picture. I refused to appear in it as I was not provided with a proper costume, and I'm not going to start being all nicey nicey about it now. Anyway, Cennwyn doesn't deserve any special thanks as her name appeared BEFORE mine in the credits, which is just plain wrong. And neither do Andurula and Moragaeth deserve any special thanks because they should be honoured to work with the Rose Rockstar (not that I was in the movie, but still) and so I won't mention them at all. And as for Carica and Hymen - well, pfft to them. I've got better things to write about than people who don't design proper costumes and eat too much. Tomrica can't realistically claim any credit for location advice (I was just about to say 'Ost Elendil' when Tomrica got in ahead of me by a split second). And anybody could have provided 1000000 pieces of ore to make stuff; it was purely luck that Aedon did, it wasn't anything to do with kindness or talent. So why should he get any special mention either?

Exactly. I quite agree with you. I am not going to make any special mentions at all. So there.

Aegthil's Guide to the Bagpipes

The bagpipes (often called simply "the pipes") are one of the most unusual "musical" instruments, both in their origin and their sound, and bring a unique "flavour" to the Bree music scene.

Origin of the bagpipes

It is often claimed that the bagpipes originated from some of the earliest wind instruments played by the dwarfs of the Blue Mountain region, but this is just one of the many fallacies promulgated by ignorance.

The very first "bagpipes" were actually a shipment of used Elvish contraceptive devices that were being transported to the West for hygenic destruction in a sterile environment. On its way past Ered Luin this shipment was waylaid by the then Dwarf King, Thorin IV Oakenlegs.

Initial questions over the function of this shipment was soon answered, when a fortuitous discovery by the famous Dwarven minstrel, Boli Mightyspear, showed how these contraceptive devices, when placed in the mouth and blown hard, could make a sound approximating that of the best dwarven "music" available at that time.

The Rivendell Trading Company, upon realising what had happened, were quick to grasp the commercial opportunities inherest in the situation, and set up a thriving export business in used contraceptive devices, which continues to this day.

The dwarves, and other bagpipe players, appear to remain unaware of the exact provenance of their instruments.

Construction of the bagpipes

Bagpipes are made from high quality Auroch's bladder, connected to bits of iron tubing with holes in it.


How to play the bagpipes

Bagpipe players claim that by covering up the various holes in the bit of iron tubing, the bagpipes can be made to produce notes of different pitch. However, anybody who has ever listened to the bagpipes knows this to be false. Bagpipes only ever play a single note. The same note. Over and over again. No change. Ever.


Can bagpipes be used as contraceptive devices?

Yes, in two ways. Firstly there are the obvious anatomical ways the bagpipes can, and have, been used. Proof that this method works can be seen in any Elvish settlement, where there are NEVER any Elvish children. None. Ever. And this isn't because Elves don't enjoy a good time, trust me.

Secondly, the sound produced by the bagpipes is inimical to feelings of sexual desire, and thus playing the bagpipes will, by its very nature, decrease the player's libido, and shrink their ... well, never mind about that. In addition, anybody who listens to the bagpipes tends to succumb to feelings of morbid depression, with a consequent severe decrease in conjugal or other intimate relations.


Can bagpipe players be rehabilitated?

No. Euthanasia is usually the best option.

And so to Rohan... er.... well... almost

How excited I was. Off to Rohan. Getting ever close to Gondor, that fabulous city of my birth and the centre of culture for the entire universe. I had on my new hat, my new shoes, my teeth were carefully brushed, I had a bath, and I had applied deodorant carefully to all my various creases.

Oh my, wasn't I just looking great? Just as well, because before I could head off to see more stinky Horse People (why don't they wash? Is it cultural? Is is laziness? But horse shit DOES wash off. Fact. So why don't they?) I got a distress call from my Gal up in Caras Laradhonshinystargoldywood.

Oh help, help she said, your previous girlfriend, the unwashed Nona of the body tattoos, is being bothersome, and we need you to nip up and help move her on.

*sigh*. Fine. OK. Whatever. I mean, my Gal is cute and all that, with those blonde tresses all flowy, but she does suffer just a bit from the curse of blondeness which is small brain size. I mean, just get rid of her yourself, Lady Gal, no big deal. Just tell her to go away. No? Fine. I'll be there.

So I nip up to ShinyGoldyWood, give my Gal a quick kiss (we'll meet again soon, say I, on our dinner date. Oh Aegthil, said she, I can hardly wait!. I know, said I, it's you and me, babe.) and take charge of babysitting Body Tattoo Nona for a while.

Well, this was bloody annoying. She wants to look all over ShinySparklyWoodGentleHaven, up the trees, down the trees, along the paths, back up the trees, back down the trees, get me a paddle, get me a boat, get me some dinner, I want a drink, I'm tired now, whine whine moan moan. Finally, we get out of there just before I finally go bonkers (too much gentle sweetness and kind, understanding intellectualism will turn anybody's stomach before long. My Fool says that Lothlorien is worse than National Public Radio in the USA. All it needs now is caring and sincere voices, reading out in gentle tones stories about poor and underprivileged yet happy Elvish children in deepest darkest Mirkwood. Oh Fool. Shut up. Just shut up.)

OK, now where was I...? Oh, right. I finally get out of the GoldenSweetyWood and down the river a bit, before bloody Nona then wants to visit somewhere else, and then check out her friend in Stangard, and then collect a bit more to eat, have a coffee, bit of a rest, at which stage I lose my rag and say Oh, Nona. Just Piss Off.

And I head off to Rohan with that short, fat little Bandoras instead. If he has body tattoos I do NOT want to know.

My Gal, the Lady Galadriel

Oh yeah, oh yeah, it looks like I'm headed for a hot date with a hot CEC. Er... should one say a hot Cute Elf Chick, or is that redundant redundancy? Good question. Who cares?!

It's me and the Lady Galadriel, baby, as long as current bidding pattern persist on the Aegthil auction. She and I are going to dine, dance, and ... well.... a gentleman never tells.

I'll have to make sure my Fool records the event for posterity, as living proof that the Queen of the Elves thinks that Aegthil of Gondor is a sex machine.

Who, in all this wide wide world, could possibly be surprised?

Goldenshowers, Celsea, Hymen, and Me.

Last night it was party time. Oh yeah, oh yeah. Some little bobbit, Goldenshowers I think her name is, was organising an event to raise money for some little babies, or something. It was all rather unclear. And then people went walking off through the woods somewhere, for no apparent reason. Weird.

It all started badly when that moron Tom Bombadil wouldn't stop his inane skipping and treehugging. Damn he's an annoying little twerp. La la la la, tripitty skippity puke. Hug a tree, recite some doggerel, and all of a sudden people think you're just fabulous. Ridiculous, if you ask me. He's got a cute wife, I'll give him that, but as for the rest... well, he's a waste of space.

Then Goldenshowers made everybody walk down to the riverbank for the concert. I mean, hullo? A riverbank?! Have you never heard about mosquitos? Hullo? Anybody home? Honestly, it's gotta be that bobbit brain size is proportional to body size. Not impressive. How can a talented musician such as myself be expected to play stupendous music while being eaten alive by the damn bugs?

Not that the rest of the band was affected, but then nobody would ever expect them to play stupendous music, would they? Nope. Right first time. Hole in one, baby, hole in one.

But hey, who cares about them? More about me!

And more about the lovely Celsea of Rohan, who stole the show and stole my heart right along with it. I think she was supposed to have a horse, because she's from Rohan, but I didn't see one. Maybe BBB ate it before the show. Barbecued horse and beer. Mmmm..... tasty. Well, moving right along, the lovely Celsea of Rohan and I danced together all night, almost arm in arm. Not quite actually arm in arm because she kept moving away for some reason, no idea why. I think maybe we were dancing on a slope or something, which would explain it. I guess she just kept sliding downhill, which was, coincidentally, in a direction away from me.

Perhaps if I'd gone around to the other side of her we could have become quite intimate.

Our romance has been immortalised for posterity by the infamous Cennwyn, whose name also begins with C but who isn't nearly as nice as the lovely Celsea. That stupendously handsome man is me, of course, and the lovely lady in the background, with a very nice blue dress, is the lovely Celsea. You can see clearly how she is looking at me with admiration shining from her eyes.

Well, of course. I can hardly be surprised.

And talking about blue dresses, there was another lady there in a blue dress, no idea who it was, but I think her name was Hymen. Pretty strange name for a lady, I suppose, or at least for any lady that I know well, but hey, there's no accounting for taste. She was visiting from foreign climes, and there were whispers going around that she's quite the celebrity. I didn't see anything great about her, to be honest, but I did catch her looking at my lovely Rose outfit with admiration.

I thought her own fashion sense left a little to be desired. I mean, her colour choice was rather dull and stodgy, kind of boring creams and poofy blues, but I guess she was pretty old. Didn't want too much excitment in her life.

If she ever needs fashion advice, she knows where to find me.

So where, exactly, is the Rose? Huh?

My Fool asked Hymne of Cosmetic Lotro to design costumes for the next BBB video. Well, you know, fair enough I suppose. I guess. But then the inevitable happens. All these costume ideas come back ... and none of them use Rose.

Well, hullo! Do they call me the ROSE Rockstar because I wear dull and dirty browns? No. I didn't think so either. Do they call me the ROSE Rockstar because I wear boring green? No. I didn't think so either. Do they call me the ROSE Rockstar because I wear vulgar orange? I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

I don't care how much my Fool likes these costume ideas. He is, after all, a Fool. But if I don't get a proper rose costume with sexy tights I will NOT be a part of this next moving picture.

I have standards. Just saying.

In other news, disaster has been averted in the CSTM auctions. For a time there Bandoras was leading the bidding for a hot date with me. I don't mind telling you I was very very nervous. He's a bobbit and he smells. Not a good combination. Not to mention that he'd asked Locney to come along to record the date for posterity. Eeeewwww. Bandoras AND Locney. Same room. Same time. I'd never keep my dinner down.

But all is well again. The CEC's have got in on the act, and I've had definite word of another major bidder poised to enter the fray. Oh yeah. You go, girl.

Come on Supergirl, you're missing out. You need to move faster than a speeding arrow instead of just sitting around on your lazy red and blue chuff.

It's Child's Play

My Fool, having a mental age of 7 as he does, takes delight in writing childish and infantile music. So, when somebody (I name no names) hinted that A Casual Stroll to Mordor (silly name. Have I said this before? I think I have.) would quite like a song to go with their Child Play Fellowship Walk, my Fool thought he'd oblige.

So he did. It's a silly little child's jig, for making them smile. Possibly it's the sight of Daddy dancing that makes them smile, but hey, whatever it takes.

mp3 file
abc file

In other news, the work on the new BBB moving picture proceeds apace. At this stage my Fool is just wondering if he's taken on more than he can chew, what with all the stuff that has to be done. Cosmetic Lotro has organised some wonderful wonderful costumes, Dannigan has agreed to play the role of Eorl, the nasty smelly man is Cirion the Steward and Hairball's better half is Borondir. Now it just needs hordes of LMB extras to play smelly horse people, and then hordes of everybody to stage the huge battle.

How exciting.

A dinner-date with ME! Yeah, baby.

A Casual Stroll to Mordor (silly name. Have I said this before? I think I have.) is about to become very very wealthy indeed. So am I*.

I have agreed that they are allowed to auction off one night of my time, for any lucky lady who wants to go out with me on a dinner-date. That's right! Wow! Amazing. One whole night with Aegthil the Rose Rockstar! And hey, you never know but what after a few glasses of wine (red wine, of course) the date might develop in all kinds of interesting steamy directions. Oh yeah. Bring that bat fur, baby.

I just know there is going to be huge interest in this. Bidding is going to be absolutely frantic. CECs will be falling over themselves in the rush to put money down. Hair (mostly blonde) will be torn. Faces will be scratched. Nails will be broken. Rude words will be thought, and maybe even verbally expressed. It's going to be mayhem, ladies and gentlemen, so get in quick with your bids.

Get in and win, for the night of your life, never to be forgotten. In years to come, when you sit with grandchildren on your knee, you'll still be saying "Ah, I remember that night with Aegthil as if it were yesterday".

Don't miss out. Bid now.

Don't bother bidding on the other auctions, mostly by losers like Cosmetic Lotro and Elrond and Frodo. I think that Frodo is auctioning off some personal jewelry items, but nothing important.


* For those of you who fondly imagine that a Casual Stroll to Mordor (silly name. Have I said this before? I think I have.) is not going to get rich out of this extravaganza, well, think again. You don't really believe they're going to pass the money on to help with the care of baby bobbits, do you? Ha, no way. Nobody would be that silly. We're actually going to split the money three ways. Two parts for me, and one part for a Casual Stroll to Mordor (silly name. Have I said this before? I think I have.) But it's still worth it, worth every penny.

For Shinarra, by the Fool

I tried for some time to write a song for Shinarra. I know she would have wanted a happy, lively song, a song people could dance to, a song people could jump around to, and think of her. But I couldn't.

I tried, I really did try. But the happy Shinarra songs just weren't there.

Instead, at my last gig, I was sitting at the bar drinking red wine (as I tend to do), thinking of Shinarra. I was on a break, the band was on a break. So I stood up and started playing, without thinking, with no plan in mind. Not even a key in mind. I just started playing.

And this song came out. The band joined in on the second verse and asked what it was. I didn't say much. I was thinking of Shinarra. They, as bands do, grimaced, made inappropriate and rude remarks, and blasted into the next song. I couldn't help thinking how Shinarra, the ultimate CEC, would have laughed and laughed.

Here's an abc arrangement of it, and an mp3 file. I did the simplest abc arrangement possible, very sparse, very short. Shinarra might have preferred something else, who knows, but she will forgive me for writing what I felt then, and still feel today.

Death of a kinmate, by the Fool

Last week, while I was away, the player of Shinarra died. Unexpectedly, at least to me, and certainly suddenly. One day she was here, the next she wasn't. She was, as I am, of the older generation of Lotro players, but as one gets older one realises, with stark clarity, that one is always too young to die.

Shinarra was a great favourite of mine. She was hilarious. Great company. She took on the role of Cute Elvish Chick with enthusiasm. She could be relied on to participate, to help, to be kind to others, to laugh at a stupid joke, to reply with a joke herself. She was a great dancer. She will be remembered for a long time for her contribution to the game, and to the lives of others. I will never forget her, beyond a doubt, and I will remember her with great fondness.

Estellost and Shinarra's real-life family have my deepest sympathy.

I am trying to write a song for Shinarra. Melodies, harmonies, musical structures, usually come easily to me. But not this time. The notes have failed me, and they find no patterns. They fall wrong, they clash, they squabble amongst themselves. Real sadness for a kinmate and a friend has interfered.

Maybe in time the music will come. Just not yet.

Identity confusion

My Fool has gone away for another few weeks, leaving me happily ensconced in my Rivendell Love Grotto with pseudo-Supergirl. It appears that we made an understandable error in the Dancing Goat the other day (anybody could have done it!), and ran off with the wrong young lady dressed in blue and red.

When quizzed about her name, she merely replied "What would you like it to be, handsome?". I thought this was a perfectly acceptable answer, and I answered "Well, can you be Supergirl?" "Sure", she replied, and everything was happy again.

Pseudo-Supergirl and I have plenty of supplies, but are making determined efforts to deplete them as quickly as possible. This makes writing my diary a tricky exercise as my diary keeps moving for some reason.

I think I shall desist for now. I really need a rest.

Aegthil's Love-Fest Grotto

Some time ago my Fool told me of an aging rock star who loaded up with 100 gallons of expensive vodka, a bucket of cocaine, and a Russian teenager 40 years younger than he was, and took the whole lot off to an Irish mansion, to while away the hours. Apparently his family, worried at the thought of what this combination of things might do to a 60-year old, burst into his love palace and dragged him off kicking and screaming.

The Russian teenager was blonde, so the story goes, although I don't think this has all that much effect on the story. It just makes you wonder what on earth the rocker was thinking of. Who on earth would want to leave this earth, in a blaze of drunken glory, in the arms of a blonde? Well, never mind about that.

I've always rather liked this story and have had it in mind to try for myself one of these days. Not that I am an aging rock star I hasten to add, I am a rock star who is unconstrained by the expectations and limitations of extreme youth. Which doesn't make me old. Not even close. Nope.

Anyway, as I said, I've had it in mind to try for myself, but never before found the perfect partner. This all changed when Supergirl came into my life. Well, to be strictly honest, she hasn't yet come into my life, not as such, but she will when I accost her in the Dancing Goat tomorrow, present her with a bunch of flowers, offer her three weeks of unlimited weed and triple-distilled cider, and haul her off with me to a Rivendell Love Grotto.

I cannot imagine she will refuse the offer. But just in case, I've asked Beorbrand, Carica, Bluebonnet and Anarwald to come along to the rendezvous, not just so that they're implicated and I can blackmail them later, but also to help with any necessary persuasions.

The only possible problem is that I'm not entirely sure what Supergirl looks like except that she wears a nifty supersuit in red and blue. However, I'm quite sure that soul will call to soul, eye will meet eye across the crowded room, and two hearts will beat as one.

(Just to be on the safe side, if you're not Supergirl best to avoid the Dancing Goat tomorrow. Especially if you tend to wear red and blue. I would hate for there to be any unfortunate identity confusion.)

And so I leave my readers with the immortal words: "I am just going off to Rivendell. I may be some time."

Wish me luck.

Deeds and Virtues

Now, I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking that Aegthil is already so virtuous that he doesn't need to be concerned about doing any more deeds. Well, and you'd be right. Last I looked I had

Patience: Level 50.
Tolerance:  Level 48
Talent: Level 308
Chastity: Level 304

I think it's interesting to note that I appear to be even more talented than I am chaste, which, if you think about it, is pretty impressive.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about, really. It's not all about me.

This is about my Fool's children. They suffer from the fairly predictable hereditary defect of terminal stupidity and annoyancyism, but that's hardly their fault I guess. Nevertheless, they didn't have to make such a meal of how deeds and virtues work in Middle Earth.

Fool's Children: Hey, Dad, why are you killing all those bats.
My Fool: They aren't bats, you little morons.
Fool's Children: Yes they are. If you weren't so old and blind you'd see that.
My Fool: They are not. They are dragonets.
Children: Yeah, whatever, Dad. Why are you killing them?
Fool: To get Aegthil's Zeal up.
Children: Huh? What?
Fool: To make Aegthil more Zealous. To increase his Zeal. What don't you understand about that, you little turd heads?
Children: You're trying to tell us that .... killing bats increases your.... zeal?
Fool: Yes.
Children: Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

(Awkward silence)

Children: So how do you increase your Patience, Dad? By killing cows? I mean you really need that. You REALLY need that. How about improving your temper? Killing little dogs?
Fool: Close.
Children: Ha Ha Ha Ha etc.

(Blessed silence falls...)

Children: Ha Ha Ha Ha etc. You get to be more patient by killing cows?! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha etc. And then do you 'Run Away' if you fall off a cliff? Ha Ha Ha Ha etc. What a stupid game.
Fool: *sigh*

If it's not bad enough that I have to kill a million bloody dragonets, I have to listen to such conversations while I do it.

Maybe I need to work on my Patience a bit. Get it up over 70. Might help.

Happy Birthday, Anthemisi

What do bobbits eat for their birthdays? I have no idea. I doubt I want to know. This whole bobbit preoccupation with food and pies and pies and food and more food and eating and food and pies is all a little strange to me. Food is what you eat because you have to, otherwise you'd drop dead. You stick it in one end, it comes out the other, and you stay alive. Ho hum. Very dull.

I suppose this is why I've never been able to spend much time in the Shire. I mean, apart from it being all Twee and Fru Fru, and even Cutsiepie,  that whole area has this intense food preoccupation. Any jobs you get given there are all Twee and Fru Fru Foody kinds of jobs. Baking delicious pies. Saving dear wee squirrels. Eating delicious carrots. Digging up healthy potatoes. Ticking your inner ear with a feather to have a good vomit so you can eat some more. You know, that kind of thing.

The Shire just isn't me.

Anyway, what sparked off this little rant? Oh yes, I remember. What do bobbits eat for their birthdays. As I said, I don't know, I have never known, and I don't want to know, but I do know that it was Anthemisi's birthday today, and she's a bobbit.

So at BBB we played dear old Anthemisi a special birthday song. Arranged by my idiot of a Fool, which is why it ends so abruptly. I shall insist that he rewrite the last bit to make it a bit more acceptable. If you want, you can play it yourself. And if you fix up the ending before my idiot Fool does, send it to him. He needs help.
(Edit: OK, fine. I fixed the ending, you annoying bloody minstrel. But I didn't bother making a new mp3 file to prove it. I hope you're happy now. Well, actually, let me rephrase that. I don't give a rat's turd whether you're happy or not, but I still fixed the ending. The Fool.)

In other news, the infamous and disgustingly nasty Melilot, or Mellilot, or Melillot, or possibly even Mmellillott, did a very effective sabotage job on the BBB concert. With a pighorn. She is getting her pay docked. My idiot Fool was laughing so hard he almost wet himself. But the rest of the BBB concert was the usual smash hit, with all the lovely ladies salivating at the sight of me.

No, really, it's true.  We end with a drool pool outside the Dancing Goat.

I am in love with Supergirl!

No, really, I am. It's real this time. It's true. It's forever.

Forget the faithless Wrenaya, forget Joelene, forget Shinarra (woops, was I not meant to say that? Sorry.), forget Harperella..... oh, wait, I never mentioned Harperella, bad mistake... anyway, forget all them.

There is only one. Supergirl. Supergirl of Lorien. I think she may have another name but I haven't learned it yet. Never mind about that.

She has it all. She has style. She has class. She has the outfit. She has the attitude. And she's super. Very super. Much like myself, of course, except that she's a girl and I'm not.

I must get my Fool to write a Supergirl Super Fanfare, to be used at appropriate Super Times, such as when Supergirl enters the Prancing Pony, or Supergirl kills a boar, or Supergirl first sees Aegthil. Just as long as my stupid Fool doesn't write about it in my Diary. He's always so damn serious when he writes in my Diary, like anyone actually gives a shit about what he has to say. I know I don't. I know YOU don't.

I must send Supergirl some flowers. I wonder how I can do that? Hmmm..... I know that she is going to fall in love with me, too, but first we have to meet. The flowers might help with that. And I'll have to make sure she doesn't hear about BBB or Madame Celestine's Establishment for Young Ladies. Or Wrenaya, come to think of it. Or Shinarra. Or Delna. Or Briamil.

Actually, let's just not mention CECs at all. That might be best.

Oh, oh, my love, wait for me, as I shall wait for thee, though all the world shall turn at last to dust, and all the stars shall descend into the darkness of oblivion, yet shall my love for thee shine like a beacon unto the very end of time.

Wait for me, my only love. I'm coming, Supergirl. I'm coming.

Er .... let me rephrase that.....

Blues for Kyrian, by the Fool

This is the other piece I wrote (mostly) while I was away, to keep myself entertained. Blues for Kyrian, mostly because Kyrian is great and anyway she asked me.

Unfortunately, this one didn't work out all that well. I used a different blues pattern, following (in spirit, not in detail) the song "See that my grave is kept clean", by Blind Lemon Jefferson, written around 1927 or so. One of the all-time great blues songs, but not your usual 12-bar.

One trouble I find with writing music in LOTRO is that the music system is severely constrained, particularly with regard to instrument type and rhythmic variation. So, once you've written a couple of blues songs it's difficult to find new ways to speak the blues language, without it merely sounding like a rehash of older songs.

I tend to fall back on overcomplicated orchestration, which kind of spoils the essential simplicity of the blues sound, turning the whole piece into a sort of big band semi-blues, rather than the purer blues sound I was striving for. I realise my orchestration is overcomplicated, but I don't know how to fix it, without simply writing Bluebonnett's Blues again.

Mind you, it didn't help that I used the same rhymthmic pattern as Bluebonnett's Blues, as well as the same horn line in spots. Pure laziness, that.

Neither do I like the ending, but all my other crazy endings sounded like Bluebonnett's Blues again. So I just cut it dead, as inspiration failed to strike.

The solo passage is a bit short, too, but that's just pure laziness. After I've coded up one time through, I  just can't be bothered doing it all again. In real life I would solo a whole lot more than once. More than twice even :-) So I feel guilty cutting the solo passages so short, but hey, it could be worse. 

Witchypoo's Soukous Surprise, by the Fool

Sarenade sent me some lyrics and asked me to write a tune for them. So I did. The song is called "The Witch's Vale", and the lyrics can be found at the end of the abc file. But not at the end of the mp3 file, which doesn't have lyrics at all. Funny that.

I tried to write a Soukous song. Soukous is from the Conga and is sometimes called Congolese (or African) Rhumba, as it can sound a lot like ... well... rhumba. It's characterised by a number of things, including a distinctive shuffle rhythm on the percussion, a high repeating guitar line, and complex bass lines much like reggae. A typical chord pattern is I-IV-I-V, which I've copied here. It just goes over and over and over and over again, with that twangy guitar and a pounding beat. Pretty cool stuff, really. My darling wife is from the Congo and so I've listened to a LOT of Soukous over the years. I've never played it though, so I don't really have a good feel for it.

Anyway, it doesn't work very well in LOTRO, but hey, at least the song came free so Sarenade can hardly complain. I got lazy on the horn solo and just made it rather boring. I was sick of Witchypoo by then, so a quick solo and out. Run while you still can.

Servants of the Secret F***

A few days ago was the birthday, or some such thing, of yet another group of servants. BBB doesn't seem to get hired to do the big paying gigs, you know, like Elrond's son's Bar Mitzvah or Saruman's Famous Square Dance Hoedowns. Instead we get the servants. The lower classes. The Servant Girls of Dol Amroth was one, and the latest was the Domestic Staff of the Secret Thingy, as they call themselves.

Apparently they can't admit it's a Secret F*** or they have to kill you because then it wouldn't be a secret any more. Well, doh. They need a new kinship name, if you ask my opinion. It's hard to keep the F*** a secret when your kinship name blazons to the entire world that you're a Bedwarmer of the Secret Four-Letter Word Beginning With F.

I'm not sure we should be calling them servants, either, in this modern day and age. But they are definitely non-unionised, underpaid, and poorly dressed.

Still, despite these manifold disadvantages, they know how to throw a party. The location was a little out of the way, being in the bloody middle of a bloody lake in bloody Everswim, but hey, it kept out the rabble. And, for a bunch of servants, they were a blast.

If I could remember their names I'd tell you all, but I don't, so I can't. I do remember a bobbit called something like Tuke, whose specialty was extemporising naughty poetry. We need her in BBB, for sure. Then there was the Noble Lady Jen, with a title that advertised her Hot Spot. Boy, do we have a gig for YOU, Lady Jen. BBB is always in need of extroverted ladies with Hot Spots. The Crowd Goes Wild! And no problem if you want to keep your Hot Spot a secret. We can always provide privacy screens and a blur filter for when we shoot the moving picture.

Then there was a dwarf with a name beginning with G, and the lovely lady Jorath, or Porath, or Joelene, or something like that. That was all a little embarrassing, that was. It's very lucky that Wrenaya does actually mean Jorath or Joreth or something like that, in Elvish. It really does. I did some research.

So, all in all, very many happy returns of the day to the Scrubbers of the Secret F***. Thanks for inviting BBB along. Good times were had by all.

In other news, my Fool is off on his travels again, and so I will have to miss the next few weeks of BBB shows. Oh, woe is me, say all the ladies. I know, I know. But I will return in time, somewhat exhausted from a protracted holiday at Madame Celestine's, but still (with luck) intact.

Master Tailoring

There is always more to learn, it seems. No sooner do I finish one long and boring task then another pops right up in its place. Deed this, deed that, skin this, skin that, not just once, but 10,00000000000 times.

I had no idea that I could actually make little seal things for my fancy schmancy weapon, and it appears I need to in order to be allowed to ride a nice warhorse. Apparently these nice horses are coming soon, but only people with fancy decorated weapons are allowed to ride them, and so I have to work on some weapon decorations. These decorations are called seals, and they don't do anything at all except look good.

But looking good is very important, especially for a Minstrel of my reputation and standing. I must look my best, not just for Madame Celestine and her girls (they also have a reputation to maintain), but also for my many many fans who have come to expect a certain level of class, elegance and sophistication. From me, that is, not from anybody else in BBB, lest there be any confusion on this matter. So I now must spend my days and nights turning hides into leather, and leather into shoes. And not even I need that many shoes. If I could turn the leather into useful Bat Fur items then they would at least be useful. For me and Madame's girls. But shoes?

The worst of it is, you all know the process by which hides are turned into leather. You all know that this requires the liberal use of certain bodily fluids. Given the amount I drink, producing these fluids is not a problem, but oh my word, the stench! After a week or so of making leather I'm beginning to smell like Beorbrand.

Well, OK, not quite that bad, but I'm getting close. I certainly smell like a Dunland privy.

As for other boring tasks, turning Aegthil piss into shoes isn't the half of it. I've also been forced to go around being nice to all kinds of people to make them like me. As if they didn't already, mind you, they are all my huge fans, I know this, but apparently I have to get to be related to them. Kindred.

Why on earth, I hear you ask, why on earth do you want to be related to bunch of fur-clad savages who live in the snow? That's a bloody good question.

Well, I don't really, but my Fool did want a horse with a flag up its bum. They run faster.

So would you if you had a flag up your bum.

Aegthil's Guide to the Ettenmoors

Hullo little boys and girls, today it's time for Aegthil's Official Ettenmoors Guide. Buckle up and block your ears, because there might be some rude words which you probably don't want to hear.

Let's start with the basics.

What are the Ettenmoors?

The Ettenmoors is a large area, full of rather bare fields with not many trees which is why it's called the Moors. It's called the Etten Moors because the word "Etten" is dwarfish for "Place of Yellow Waters".  Local legend has it that the "Yellow Waters" is a reference to the natural loosening of the bladder that occurs when you are about to be pounded into a pulp by 50 ugly orcs. I have so far been unable to confirm this etymology from independent sources, but it certainly sounds plausible.

The most interesting thing about the Ettenmoors is that it is home to lots of nasties, like orcs and wargs and spiders, and suchlike things. Of course, this isn't all that different from, say Moria. Hower, the reason people go to the Ettenmoors and not to Moria is because Moria is actually a five-dimensional discontinuous Hausdorff-topological manifold bundle in space-time, and so nobody can ever find their way around it. (Aegthil's Guide to Moria coming soon to all good bookstores near you.)

Basic geography of the Ettenmoors

All new visitors to the Ettenmoors need quickly to learn their way around so they don't get eaten by wargs.

At the north is a snowy region called Isendeep. No idea why. This is where there are some dragons who will eat you, and a bunch of huge trolls, so it's best just not to go there at all. If you disregard this advice, then, as the great bard once sang, "Don't you eat that yellow snow".

At the south is the Lumber Camp which is an orc place where orcs chop up orc wood for orc business. Although there is also a hobbit camp nearby, the hobbits are there essentially as a fast-food service for the orc camp. Again, best not to go there, especially if you're a hobbit.

There are some other towers and camps scattered around the map, like Glen Vraig and Tor Aspartate and Glenfiddich and Garm. These are all orc outposts so it's best to avoid all these places, too. In fact, all the camps and towers belong to the orcs, so just don't go near any artificial structure at all. Trees are sometimes safe.

Language of the Ettenmoors

The Ettenmoors have their own unique language, which can be a little difficult to follow.

Person 1: hi guyz sup lol
Person 2: creeps at ta 7 rk 5 mini warg lol
Person 3: LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG oh crap i got bad lag lol
Person 2: thats why ur a loser lol
Person 3: fuck u lol
Person 4: ha ha ha i just raped 4 spiders lol
Person 5: u suck man ur gear is total shit lol
Person 6: were is the action lol im going to kick ur ass lol

It's not always easy to understand these cryptic communications, but diligent scientists have managed to decode the meaning of "lol". It's now known to be a traditional Elvish expression meaning "I am a total moron, with absolutely no language skills at all, and with a brain the size of a pea. I am probably also 15 years old".

Myths of the Ettenmoors

One of the most persistent myths surrounding the Ettenmoors is that the baddies there (orcs, spiders, wolves, bears, etc) are all actually wereanimals. In the day they seem to be perfectly normal (if rather dim) people, but when the sun goes down out come the claws, and they let their true nature run riot, turning into weredragons or whatever.

Oh puh-leeze! How stupid do you think I am? This is clearly nothing but ridiculous anthropomorphising. Relax, boys and girls, get a grip. There are no such things as werewolves or werebears. These are just normal monsters, like you see in Moria and other places. Scary? Yes. People in disguise? No.

Strategies

This depends on who is attacking you, and what class you are. If you're a Loremaster all you ever have to do is stand there and shoot lightning bolts out of your arse until everything drops dead. If you're a minstrel, probably best to emulate the brave Sir Robin, and run away. This can be very effective as long as you run away before any monster notices you. Otherwise it can be dicey.


Well, that's all from Aunty Aegthil today, boys and girls. Remember, if you do go to the Ettenmoors, go with a bunch of friends who all run slower than you.

Happy hunting! Bye now!

Lol.

Sadness

Sarasti is gone. After almost a year of spreading joy and light (and viciously funny extemporised lyrics) she is gone from our lives. This is not a good thing.

We can always hope she will return. These kinds of critical psychoses can cure, in time, and it may well be that Sarasti will be able to return to society as an active contributing member. But it will take time for the men in white coats to let her out. All that we can do is stand on the sidelines and cheer for her, cheer in our hearts and in our minds, cheer for her swift recovery, and hope that she will eventually prevail over the burglar pants in the fight for control of her sanity.

It is, needless to say, entirely false that her psychotic breakdown occurred as a result of my lovely new outfit, so lovingly detailed below. It is purely a coincidence. However, in homage to the lovely Sarasti I donned my new HawtSx® Outfit, and penned her a ditty.

It's called Sarasti's Song. It was meant to be a sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, folk song. Sad. I think I said that already. But it didn't really turn out that way. Happy melodies kept intruding, and although I tried to keep them out, they would not be denied. So eventually I just let them have their way, and they played around a little before departing in a blaze of major brass. Ah well, it could have been worse. I think.

But my Fool insists that he be allowed to be serious. He will miss Sarasti. He hopes to see her again when other far realms let her go. And he'll be thinking of her at every single BBB concert.

Aegthil's Cosmetic Lotro

Poor old Cosmetic Lotro claims to be running out of ideas. Oh dear. Well, never one to refuse assistance when assistance is required, I step into the breach and present my very own Aegthil's Cosmetic Lotro.

And since a picture is worth a thousand words, which is a lot, here goes.

Ladies love it when Aegthil does his little hand clap thing. Very sexy!

Check out that butt, girls! Try not to faint. But if you do, Aegthil might revive you with a special kiss. Oooooh! Lucky ladies!

But, sadness. Every outfit comes with its own set of problems, and this one is no exception.

Here's Aegthil doing some running repairs, and getting himself comfortable. Wouldn't YOU just love to help him? I bet you would!

Well, that brings to an end this installment of Aegthil's Cosmetic Lotro. Until next week, boys and girls, and make sure you have a fun fun time.

Chest: A cheeky little rose number, with a tip-top pattern on the back. Very nice.

Butt: Woo Hoo. Oh yeah, you just gotta love those rose hotpants. Available from every high-class store near you. And are they hot? You don't need me to tell you that. Don't touch, ladies! You might get burned!

Hands: Some sort of leather glove thingies.

Shoulders: Hmmm... very broad. I just love that.

Shoes: Rose boots. You just can't beat that colour, can you? It never goes out of fashion, and it goes with everything!

A week in the life

Yet another wonderful week in the life of the famous Aegthil. That's me. Well, not all that wonderful to be perfectly honest, but certainly a week. And not so very bad, either.

Most importantly, I got the dance move. The cool one. The happening one. The one you get from those smelly tattooed barbarians in Enedwaith. And now I can look even better on the dance floor. I already looked good, I know, I know, you don't have to say it, but now I will look even better. Watch out ladies, Aegthil the Dance Champ is here.

I have also fallen in love with a pair of pink hotpants. Leggings of the Unseen, apparently, they are called. Because, as Sarasti says, once they are seen they can never be unseen and therefore you should really walk around with your eyes closed. Why oh why are they available only to burglars and only for the ridiculous price of OVER NINE THOUSAND commisariat points or whatever they are called? It's not right. It's not fair.

But I will have them. I will get them. I will be seen walking around Bree in tiny little shorty pink shorts with sort of ballet dancer tight thingies over my sexy knees. Some day it will happen. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not next week. But it will happen.

And when it does you will see a sight to behold. A super sexy bald man, dressed in tiny tight little pink shorts, laying down the dance magic for the ladies.

Oh yeah. I know you can hardly wait.

In other news, I was defeated and ran away four times in the Limlight Gorge because Melanie would not come to save me. Well, it was close to four times anyway, although I wasn't actually strictly defeated, not as such. But she should have come anyway. I was heartbroken and wept bitter tears. Talk about ingratitude. She'd be nothing without me. I taught her all she knows. In a manner of speaking. To make up for this, though, the Lady Chastity Belt showed up at the weekly BBB concert, to much acclaim. Well, OK, that was exaggerated, too. There wasn't any acclaim at all, and certainly not for the Lady Chastity Belt (of all people!) but she was indeed there.

More interestingly, I received an enquiry from a person (whom I don't know at all) asking why I no longer write any articles for the Landroval Times. I pointed out to this person that my LT articles caused such offense to so many people that I was no longer able to post them anywhere without having them immediately deleted. I rather thought that was the whole point of a Celebrity Gossip Column, myself. I mean, does one really read The News of the World for its intellectual and informed content? Possibly not.

I've been tempted a number of times to resume, but have resisted. I have to say that the thought of being required to explain, yet again, to the Noble Lady Harperella (NLH), why a member of the Lonely Mountain Band is responsible, yet again, for the departure of another 50 sensitive souls from Middle-Earth, is not a thought I relish. That NLH is a scary chick, I'm telling you.

But I ramble. I must get back to earning Commissariat RAtion Points. I need those hotpants.

Aegthil's Guide to Weatherstock

What is Weatherstock?

Good question. Weatherstock is this huge gathering where lots of people gather so that they can get free weed and booze from the Lonely Mountain Band. It happens every few months (see below). Bobbit vendors dressed in yellow outfits train for months before each gathering, building up their teeny tiny muscles so that they can carry large quantities of booze, pies and weed for distribution.

People come from miles around to attend the event. Well, doh, of course they do. Free booze and weed? What's not to like?

Who are the Lonely Mountain Band?

Officially they are something called a kinship, which means that they are all closely genetically related and inbred. Now, this might seem a minor point until you realise that Beorbrand is a member of the Lonely Mountain Band, and then you realise that the LMB is a group of people who are genetically closely related to Beorbrand, and probably inbred with his goats. Or possibly some LMB members are kind of like Beorbrand/Carica/Bluebonnett genetic mixes, with maybe a little Anarwald/Sarasti added to the pot. At this point, you realise just how scary the LMB really is. Every so often you get a bright star shining from out of the depths of the LMB, a bright star that disproves everything that is commonly thought about such inbred and genetically unvarying populations, a bright star like, say.... um..... like..... er.....  well, actually, never mind about the bright star. Let's just move on.

Why does the LMB give out free booze and weed?

This isn't known for certain, although noted scientists have proposed some plausible theories. The most commonly accepted theory is that the free booze and weed makes it easier for the members of the LMB to get lucky with the opposite sex (or the same sex, whatever), and thus Weatherstock is in fact an evolutionary adaptation to the sad fact that the LMB is really just a bunch of losers.

Personally, I couldn't possibly comment.


Did you get lucky with that cute blonde?

Next question please. A gentleman never tells.


Is there music as well?

No, not usually, at least nothing important. Every so often you get a band-like entity on the little rock stage but that never lasts for long and nobody listens to them anyway. One notable exception was a group calling themselves "Please Fondle Me, Frodo". Everybody listened to them, but that was only because they weren't actually playing music, but mostly making stupid jokes instead. Anyway, they have a terrible name, because, quite frankly, Frodo is nothing but a bloody whiner and I wouldn't want to have him fondle me, that's for sure. The fact that this group of individuals actually wants to be fondled by a bobbit is kind of scary, although not really all that surprising once you get to know them. Not that I did, I hasten to add. 

Note that, to my sure and certain knowledge, there has never been a band called "Don't Tempt Me, You Cute Elvish Chick". For pretty obvious reasons, really.


Where is Weatherstock?

Not a good question. It's at Weatherstock of course, you moron.


When is Weatherstock?

Official advertising claims that Weatherstock happens only once a year but this is false. It actually happens once every few months, but LMB members just smoke so much weed that their short-term memory is completely shot, and they simply can't remember when the last Weatherstock was. Most of them can barely remember their own names.


Who organises Weatherstock?

Nobody, really. It's pretty much a total shambles. What on earth do you expect when you get a bunch of genetically inbred dope-heads to organise a party? However, I suppose if you had to mention someone, it's probably Tinki who is the main boss.. er... bobbit. At least, she's the one who seems to be in charge of distributing the booze and the weed. She is easily identified by her yellow hat, which typically stands at about knee level. She's a bobbit, which explains the level reduction relative to normality. If you give Tinki a special tip she has been known to provide other services. Don't tip, is my advice.


What does "Weatherstock" mean?

The word "Weatherstock" is from the Elvish "Weatherdunie sinya Stockilala" which means "Hill of Bright Streaming Water under Gentle Rainbows on a Sunny Spring Morn". Elvish names really are crap.


Why are all the horses walking funny?

Yeah, I've noticed this too. Weird, huh? My theory is that it's because of Beorbrand. Don't ask. 

Once again, the community impresses. By the Fool.

Talk about a long day. We must have shot the new BBB movie for four straight hours yesterday, and then some. And the poor suckers in BBB didn't complain once. It was impressive. They went here, and went there, and put on this costume, and took off that one, and jumped and yelled and laughed on cue, and kept on going and going and going...

The BBB energiser bunny. Beor would be the energiser goat, maybe.

I tell you, there's a lot of very talented, and very nice, people in BBB. Of course, there's many more hours of filming left, but sufficient unto another day is the evil thereof.

But what's even more impressive is the cooperation we got from the creeps when we filmed in the Moors. Anarwald hopped on his warg and organised a group of around 15 uglies to come and chew on BBB. Oh yeah. Wonderful stuff. And even all those wargs and goblins and spiders hopped this way, and jumped that way, and did just what they were told, when they were told. And only ate BBB once, and that was when they were allowed to.

So, many thanks to:

Arctic
Asht
Axelbash
Daizee
Ghaluilos
Haranogg
Hoshmog
Hottoddy
Itchycoo
Krysnakh
Pouncival
Meatgrinder
Muzlukbash
Nogglin
Vigrith
Wyver

Really impressive. I can't say this enough. I defy any other game to get a bunch of PvP aficionados to behave that well. But there really is something about LOTRO that attracts nice people. Can't be the bobbits. I wonder what it is.

This next BBB movie is the most ambitious yet, and I'm not entirely sure how well it's going to work. It includes real voices, for one, and that make it both more difficult to record and organise, and a lot more difficult to structure. It's a challenge, that's for sure. If I actually knew anything about film-making it would be easier, but I don't, so it isn't. I know about music, not films. Still, it's all fun.

Eating my words, by the Fool

Well, well, and after having written that I'm not going to write, I was subjected to the most hilarious and oddly touching thing I've ever experienced in LOTRO, or any other game for that matter. 

Poor Aegthil was deluged with unwanted letters, collected from the 5th Anniversary celebration, and each unwanted letter came with a wonderful piece of spam. Aegthil is going to have the finest head of hair, the most rippling muscles, the most chest hair, the fattest bank balance, the least body odour, the cleanest feet, the finest fashions, the most delectable food, and, above all, the largest and most impressive penis you have ever seen. Oh dear.

At first I wondered how the game generated these spam emails. They were long, very clever, and very funny. But then some of them were clearly targeted at Aegthil. Not generic at all. So I began to wonder about my initial wonderings. Were they really game mails? What on earth was going on? Well, I didn't know, so I just deleted them all and carried on, making a mental note to ask the LMB how you got such mails generated and sent to someone. Cool feature in the game, huh?

It wasn't until some time later that I realised each and every one of them had been hand-written and sent to Aegthil, to keep me entertained. Beorbrand had orchestrated the whole thing, and a lot of people responded. I'm not sure how many mails Aegthil got, but it was a LOT. And they were very funny indeed.

So, as I said, I felt oddly touched by this. All that time people put in to do something nice for Aegthil and for me. Although possibly 'nice' is not quite the correct word. Goodness, I'm tearing up.

Well, not really, but I could be if I wasn't a manly manly guy. You know, with rippling muscles and thick chest hair, etc.

Now, where did I put those enlargement offers...?

Poor Aegthil, by the Fool

I'm afraid that poor Aegthil has been attacked once again by a marauding band of bobbits, and this time the damage to his writing hand is so severe that he is unlikely to be able to write anything for quite some time.

As his Fool I am not unhappy about this. I feel that such a silly and one-dimensional character as Aegthil has only a limited currency, quickly spent. After a while, his diary becomes merely repetitive and I find myself lacking the inclination to help him write it. In addition, I am beginning a series of other writing projects, and have less time to devote to silly old Aegthil's diary.

Aegthil will, of course, continue to write and perform music, to kill monsters, to irritate everybody he meets, to make videos, and to hang with the cool kids in BBB. He will still be around. He might be foolish and irritating, but I still love the old fellow. It's merely his literary endeavours that are on hold. You never know, he may write more once he recovers from his injuries. But then again, he may not.

The Lonely Mountain Band Song and Video

Well, it's finally done. Whew. It took a bit longer than expected, but only because my Fool went away on holiday in the middle of the job. Typical.  However, he went to that lovely beach that appears at the beginning of the Prince Caspian movie, so it wasn't all bad. He went and did absolutely nothing for a few days. Lazy bugger.

Anyway, the video. It's an awful lot of work from an awful lot of people, particularly Floradine, who did all the audio engineering. And did a very professional job of it, too. Impressive stuff. Real instruments, real singing, coordinated from Germany to New Zealand, and a lot of countries in between. Not bad for a bobbit, I must say.

But lots of other people helped an enormous amount. My Fool couldn't have done it without Beorbrand and PB. Most of the good ideas belong to them. Actually, that's true for all the BBB videos. And I really mean that. Sarasti did the lovely artwork at the beginning. You can tell from the way she dresses that she has real style. She bugged my Fool mercilessly about the colour balance. What's wrong with blue, he said. No way, said Sarasti, just fix it. What colour is green, anyway, said the Fool. Behave yourself, said Sarasti, just fix it. Carica showed her talent for improvisational comedy. Not just in her choice of a bobbit as an avatar (I mean, that is comedy right there), but in her starring performances also. Not to mention her patience as we filmed and refilmed and refilmed and refilmed and refilmed her sequences, to try and get the timing right.

Special thanks to Madaelin and Brenstan who organised the dancers at Ales & Tales for the shot. They're not even in the LMB and now they're associated with it. They'll have to go into hiding. And use disinfectant daily.

There's probably a bunch of other people I should be thanking also, but hey, my Fool is old and he forgets stuff. It's called geriatric senility. It's really not his fault, and anyway it's not polite to make fun of people with disabilities, so leave him alone.

A musical challenge

My Fool is off on his travels again. I'm at Madame Celestine's of course. It's exhausting.

Just before he was left, he was presented with a very tricky musical challenge. Saffyre (or Saffire or Saffrye or Safire or Suphyyree or a name very similar to that as wot he can't remember it and isn't at home to look it up) sent him Aegthil-lyrics to this song. The implication being, of course, that he should write an abc to go with it.

Well, the lyrics are hilarious. Very funny indeed. And my Fool would dearly love to make me sing them in public, in front of my usual crowd of adoring fans.

The trouble is that the song is quintessentially not a Lotro-style song. That rhythmic rap style is exactly what the Lotro music doesn't do. At all. It's not just that it doesn't do it well, it just doesn't do it at all.

It's a bit of a quandary, really. But my Fool rather likes a challenge. He'll think about it.

The Great Anniversary Party Mega Band

Oh yeah. What more need be said?

Well, OK, OK, lots more needs to be said, but I'm mostly too lazy to say it. But it was a blast. Mouldy Vinyards, The Out-Of-Tune Ensemble, and Bobbits Bonking Bunnies. Woo Hoo.

And oh, the fireworks, the fireworks!

My Fool tried to catch as much of it on video as he could, but was only partially successful. Still, he got a lot. Actually, that raises a point for commentary. I do try always to respond to anyone who talks to me, or makes fun of me. I figure that if they're brave enough to comment on my handsome bald head, or to rib me about my nice legs, they deserve everything they get. I always try to give it back. With interest and malice aforethought. On the rare occasion that someone actually says something nice, I even try to respond to that appropriately (i.e., I only mock their parentage not their personal body odour).

But when my Fool is filming, and multiple bands are playing, and he's trying to control the camera, check the lighting, check which shot he's meant to be doing, correct the angles, avoid the trolls, and maybe even try to play a little bit, all with no interface showing, it means that a lot of Aegthil-directed abuse just doesn't get seen.

I feel that all those people are getting a free shot, with no consequences. It just isn't fair.

Mind you, it's not as difficult as the jobs that the poor old band leaders do; Beorbrand, Geoffroi and Lennidhren. Organising Lotro musicians is worse than herding cats. Those three are brilliant. You quote me, I kill you. I never, ever, said that.

My Fool was delighted, though, when someone in the concert recognised a Joe Cocker riff in one of his songs. Ooo... he said to himself... oooooo.... how exciting. Of course, I didn't get to say anything as my Fool was too busy, but whoever is the Joe Cocker fan out there, know that you made my Fool very happy. Of course, this person probably only knew it was Cocker because I said it was in my diary, but hey, even false happiness is better than none at all.

In other news, my Fool was also told his voice is "mellifluous". I told him this is Elvish for "sounds like a cheese-grater". I think he believed me. He had got all excited, but I brought him back to earth real quick smart.

But enough about my Fool. More about me. In the next installment, gentle reader, so you will just have to wait.

This weekend it's Party Time

Oh yeah. It's the LMB fourth year anniversary. Something like a third year anniversary, but a bit longer. Or possibly a bit shorter, depending on which universe you live in.

Actually, talking about that, expert opinion states officially that if you live in Aegthil's universe, you need therapy. I think this is unfair, although not necessarily untrue.

Anyway, as I was saying, it's party time. Party at the kinhouse, party along the road, party at ... er... well, other places too. In particular, party at the Huge Mega Concert, with the perfect name: CWNFANFTMCWNELBWAABOSMHU, which stands for Carica's Wonderful Name For The Mega Concert Which Everybody Likes Because If We Didn't She'd Thump Us And We Don't Want To Be Thumped.

Three bands. Three sets of songs. Three groups of kinnies. 3 screaming and adoring fans. Oh no, wait, that's 3000 screaming adoring fans.

One Rose Rockstar.

Woo Hoo.

In other words, the usual BBB concert time (the new Sunday Afternoon Geriatric Extravaganza, or SAGE) is being invaded by Old Winyards and The Andune Ensemble. And we are going to rock on out like there's no tomorrow. Be there, or be square. Or both, in some cases. Like if you're a dorf for instance, or a bobbit. They are naturally square because of their genetic deficiencies and thus if they are there at all they are necessarily there and square. Ahem.

Just saying.

Of course, this is all payback for BBB's appearance at Ales and Tales. We all thought that Lennidhren needed a good heart flushthrough, clear out the arteries a bit, so we turned up on horseback and 'helped' Old Winyards. Noisily. With considerable enthusiasm.

I'm not sure that Lenni has recovered yet from the shock. Sources tell me she is still in bed, with the sheets pulled up over her head, muttering to herself  "pipes... pink... pipes... pink... pipes... pink...". Poor Lenni.

Still, she'll get her revenge on Sunday. I'm reliably informed that Lenni is planning to appear as did Lady Godiva, well dressed in hair, riding a white horse at speed right through the middle of BBB, tromping on the pipes player.

Quite frankly, I can hardly wait.

The afternoon concerts

For some reason I don't know, and probably don't want to know, the nasty Beorbrand has changed the BBB concert time. What was a perfectly good concert time of midnight, has now been changed to a very foolish 3 pm. On Sunday, no less.

Oh dear.

What respectable rockstar is out of bed at 3 pm on Sunday? Hullo? Excuse me, Mr. Piper Man? Don't you know anything? I guess you just have no idea what being a rockstar is like. Well, of course you don't. You aren't one. Pfft.

Now, midnight is a good time to start a gig. The old people and the young people are all safely tucked up in bed, and the bar is packed with CECs, all ready to party, and mostly half-drunk already. Oh yeah. What more could a rockstar ask for?

And as it gets later and later, the drinks keep on coming and the inhibitions keep disappearing, so that by the time you get to 2 am, even a bagpipe player might get lucky. Well, maybe not a bagpipe player, but certainly a drummer. By the time those CECs have felt that pounding beat for 2 solid hours they're ready for almost anything. (Except pipes.)

But instead of this we get the 3 pm crowd. Family groups. Geriatrics. Prayer groups just out of Temple. All stuffed full of righteous inhibition, and no dance moves. They stand there grumpily, wondering what on earth to do when the beat starts, when the rhythm starts to move their feet. Should they get up and boogie? Should they leave? Should they complain about the noise?

What about if their children hear a rude word? How can they cope with the typical BBB degeneracy? What on earth will they make of Sarasti? Actually, that's a good question. What can anyone make of Sarasti? Well, maybe let's not go there now. And there's Carica, the Drunken Bobbit. Hardly your typical familial role model there, wouldn't you say?

So when BBB gets up on stage, and Beor starts making his obscene hip gestures, Carica stumbles around in a drunken haze, Sarasti ogles anything with testosterone with her tongue hanging out, I stand there looking sexy, and all the other BBB rapscallians spout their usual innuendo, we look out at the sea of kiddie faces, at all the walking sticks and family picnic baskets, at all the earnest grandparents and icecreams, and we think to ourselves... what has BBB come to?

Next it'll be the lunchtime concerts at the Shire Music Golden Guitar Awards.

Slavery is alive and well

I am thinking of filing an official complaint at the Bree Mayoral Office. My Fool, with no regard for my wishes or personal development, is making me traipse up hill and down dale, from east to west, from north to south, looking for places to make a moving picture of the nasty LMB theme song.

Quite frankly, I have better things to do than climb every single cold and frosty peak in the Misty Mountains, run to every corner of the Trollshaws, or climb every tree in Lothlorien. Although, actually, climbing trees in Lothlorien can be OK, as sometimes you get to climb behind a CEC, and then the view can be spectacular.... but I digress. Ahem. Moving right along.

I would rather be at Madame Celestine's. Go figure.

In other news, my Fool has informed me that there have been complaints that I make comments that are hurtful to women. I just cannot believe this. (My Fool has been heard to say that the mere fact I'm breathing is, in and of itself, hurtful to women, but this is arrant nonsense also.)

I know, from extensive surveys conducted at Madame Celestine's* that 97% of women (excluding bobbits and dorfs) find me devilishly handsome and attractive, and that when I call out to them "Hey Gorgeous, I'm the famous Aegthil" it makes their little hearts go pitter patter pitter patter, and brings them out in hot flushes.

87% of respondents (including bobbits and dorfs) agree that Rose is a Sexy Colour.

This is all true. I have the evidence.

In other news, my Fool is (to be honest) rather saddened by what he considers to be a ridiculous argument that recently occurred in the Landroval Forum. A vibrant and enthusiastic community can so easily be fractured by such trivial and unnecessary things; it only takes one pathological nutcase (and in this case there is just one) to sour the entire barrel, if I may mix my metaphors.

Of course, my Fool insists I mention that I also am a pathological nutcase, just not the one under consideration here.

He is a Fool. Don't listen to him.

*These surveys are conducted by an independent polling agency and have a margin of error of plus or minus 2%

Musical difficulties, by the Fool

The instruction (from Beorbrand, bless his little cotton socks) was to write a Joe Cocker version of an Irish jig. Hmmm, said I, OK. Sure. Sounds intriguing.

Well, it was intriguing all right, but it certainly wasn't successful. First, here's the finished product, as an abc file and as a wav file. Well, it's not really finished, as there is a whole lot more could be done to it, but not now. That will be a project for another day.

Clearly, it's not a jig. And it doesn't sound Irish. And it doesn't sound like Joe Cocker, either, which is the worst thing of all. I'm not saying it sounds bad. It doesn't. Especially the second half, where the drum beat changes, it has a nice groove. But it's not what I was trying for.

Now, I'm really interested in how music works, or how it doesn't, so it's intriguing to me why this piece doesn't sound like I wanted. Joe Cocker aficionados will recognise many of the note patterns, as some of them are taken straight from Cocker songs. Some will recognise the chord structure, which again is typical Cocker. The lute is playing a straight Cocker guitar line.

So you put all this together, it should work, right? Heh, well, it doesn't. One obvious response is that I didn't even try to do a jig, but that's not really helpful. Early on I converted to a reel rhythm, rather than a jig rhythm, so that was intentional.

I think that the real problem is the rhythm section. The horns, particularly in their lower register, can sound very grunty, and do good brass lines, but the bass and guitars... well, they are killed by lack of punch and too much sustain. I've complained about this before, I seem to recall, but it never hurts to complain again, I suppose. And the drums are, well, wimpy. I just cannot get that funky punch, that... that... whatever it is that makes Cocker Cocker.

Mind you, maybe it's just me. I don't believe it is, but if someone can come up with a better Cocker sound, I'd love to know how they did it. This isn't false modesty. I'm not modest. But I'm genuinely interested in learning, and if someone can do it better, I want to analyse what they've done. (I've learned a lot about Lotro Latin music by looking carefully at Anarwald's pieces, and talking to him about them, for example.)

Some things work well in Lotro. Gentle harp music. Renaissance airs. Baroque counterpoints. I'm quite sure that is the intended music for Lotro, and that my style is not what is desired. So in that sense the designers have succeeded.

But it is frustrating.