An enforced break

My Fool, being a fool of very limited tolerance and patience, is leaving me at Madame Celestine's for a few days. Since, after that, he's travelling overseas for a couple of weeks, it will be some time before I'm allowed out, I fear.

I do hope I can find something to keep me occupied until the return of his person and his patience.

And the worst of it is, my Fool will probably spend time while away writing trivial musical rubbish, as he usually does. He is a sad case, a very sad case.

Level 75

I suppose I ought to mention that I have recently reached level 75, which is much less than my real level of course, but still better than level 80. And having reached this exalted level I felt inspired to take some servants with me around a dungeon or two. After all, Beorbrand the Piper Man has often told how the very best fashions, including hats and shoes, are to be found only at such exalted level dungeons.

So, in we went. Strygaric, Gondorel, and myself. After killing a few minor baddies my servants proved unable even to make a decent cup of tea, and we got to some poison baddie and he wiped his arse with our faces, time after time. He ran into the thorns, and then into the nasty goo, and then all those nasty little brown clouds spawned and blew me up, and my servants were entirely inadequate to look after me in the fashion to which I have become accustomed.

It was shocking. I broke a fingernail.

After some time I found a different group of servants, and hired them to take me around, and show me the sights. Andeon and Erakleon. What a fine pair of butlers these would make. They could make tea, and even serve wine at table (with proper training and attention). This time we kicked that poison baddie's butt all the way back to whichever nasty hell spawned him. Oh yeah. And then we had scones.

I was expecting great fashion consequences, but all I got was some measly little seal or sigil or something like that. It was pathetic, and not at all appropriate to my stature and performance. I shall have to talk to the mayor.

A few days ago (my word, haven't I been busy!) I also joined up some really large group killing bobbits in Tooktown. Beorbrand was there as well, and lots of other people, and there were lots of flashy lights and colourful explosions, and I just followed the crowd around wondering what on earth was going on and then some people died (I'm not quite sure why) but they got up again, and then something happened and everybody left and the bobbits said thank you.

Weird. Why would they thank us for killing them? I don't get it. But I got out before they realised their mistake. I'm told this was something called a "raid". Personally, I'd rather raid Rivendell then some measly bobbits, but then nobody asked me at all.

I'm sure that many other people are also confused by "raids" on bobbits, so I shall soon write some more guides to explain raids and level 75 dungeons, and things like that. I think of it as a public service.

Thank you to my adoring fans

My Fool has insisted that I write a sentence or two, thanking the many people who have given me gifts. Now, I don't see any need for this at all, myself. People who give me expensive gifts are justly rewarded by the act of giving, Are we not told that to give a gift is a greater pleasure than to receive one? (The correct answer is Yes, in case you were unsure).

So really these people ought to be thanking me, not vice versa. Still, the world is a topsy turvy place and we must do our best to remain upright.

First and foremost, the nasty piper man, Beorbrand, has given me a string of very nice swords, culminating in the latest one which looks more like a club it must be said. It's a very ugly sword, this latest, but hey, we all know he has no taste and is a low person of vulgar manners.

Anyway, he only made the swords because I threatened to tell Harper about the goats.

The lovely lady Wrenaya has made me a lovely songbook, with one special song decked out in gold leaf and illuminations. I'm still using it with enormous pride. She also sent me a wonderful top hat, with a pink ribbon, which makes me look even more handsome than I usually do, which is an impressive achievement if you think about it.

Harperella (may she rule forever and never require me to work hard for the Lonely Mountain Band because I would only make a mess of it and I am much better suited to standing on the sidelines looking good and anyway, my Fool says that if I ever take on actual working positions that require, well, you know, work and stuff, then he'll put me to sleep in the fountain and never wake me up again) made me some lovely expensive bling. So did Jocularity, if it comes to that, but he's only a dorf, so that doesn't really count.

Byrdie made me some lovely pants and such for a Yuletide present. I'm still wearing them, although they have gone through at least one wash cycle after the embarrassing episode with the trolls just outside Isengard which wasn't my fault at all, and anyway, a loosening of the bowels in periods of extreme fright is a perfectly natural physiological reaction of which nobody should be ashamed.

I should probably thank many other people for doing stuff, because my many adoring fans are always giving me things, but I can't remember any other names right now, so my Fool can just go boil his head.

So, a New Year comes around again

My New Year's Resolution this year is to be even more humble, and better looking, than last year. I revel in the challenge. It won't be easy, but one must always strive for self-improvement, even when one is essentially perfect.

My Fool has now returned and will let me out soon. It is, I must admit, highly annoying that my Fool puts his own desires ahead of mine, but there seems to be little that I can do.

And to add insult to injury, while he was away my Fool wasted inordinate amounts of time on writing yet more trivial music for unimportant people. He is a sad and pathetic example of the dregs of humanity.

Fin's Happy Feet (abc file and wav file)
Gaiagil's Lament (abc file and wav file)