Of Bells and Gimmicks

Dear Diary – I dared to try out the new outfit lady Damassande made for me today. It’s in red and purple to go with lady Dmitreva’s house colours. It came in this huge box with silk ribbons on it. The whole thing’s so fancy I was was all intimidated by it for days. I swear the box stared me down.

Well today I went off to do a proper invitation to her Grace dul Ansari to the masquerade party – and felt I should probably do so in the right colours. So I gathered my courage and tried this new fancy thing out.

… I don’t think lady Damassande ever got to do a Jester’s garb before, but she went at it with quite some enthusiasm. It’s very, very pretty! And so colourful! The new cap ‘n bells feels strange after having used my green-blue one for so long, but the bells jingle better. There is also a new set of larger bells on my hips … will take a little practice to get them to ring properly. One hip-swaying jester coming up! This divided skirt-thingie is not so awkward as I had feared – but If I stand on my hands the divided skirt do fall down to show a whole lot of bare leg – if not anymore than so. Lithmorran scandal nevertheless, just an acrobatic move away! Will need to keep that one in mind for slow evenings at the pub…

Dear Diary: Work, work, work for the daring jester! The grand lady’s upcoming murder mystery ball has me running about doing random things to get things done in a random fashion. Masks and outfits, themes and roles – all in a big mess inside my head (and soon to be outside too)!

… And then people have the nerve to call me good at organizing! What an insulting thing to say to a wee jester, don’t they have any manners?! Worst is that there’s talk at the guild of me sitting for those damned “master tests” thingies. Master bard? Sitting? Me? I ‘fulfill all the criteria’ they say, whatever those criteria now may be. What in the world should a fool be ‘master’ at? It’s a contradiction of terms. Soon they’ll start calling me competent  too! I can’t stand it! I need go talk to Mrs Buttons. She’ll know what to do.

There’s one thing better than bathing, and that is bathing with others! Women bathing like to gossip and gossip is always fun. Except the serious kind which is just not my thing. Give me a light-hearted, friendly exchange of trivial love stories and shunning face-slaps any day!

One of the ‘bathers’ were the Countess Dmitreva. I like the grand Lady, she’s a nice ‘un, or I wouldn’t have signed on to be her retainee. Although all this “court jester” stuff makes me itch – it sounds so grand, and I am so small! The Lady is new in her role as a noble – appointed such for her deeds to help the king get onto the throne. I wouldn’t know much about that, but it sure makes her worry a lot. She does smile a lot anyway though – even if the smiles are strained sometimes. Smiles are great! A fool lives by her smiles!

Reminds me, I need to go throw some jesterly invites to some powerful people of the city on behalf of the Lady. Shall be fun! Maybe I can even catch them in the bath!

The absolutely best investment the Guild of Troubadours ever did was to install a bath in the guild hall! It’s all warm and wet and even though Mrs Buttons is not too keen on bathing, I try to drop in there as soon as the cold seeps deep enough into my fingers.

Juggling in this weather is no easy task! The fingers get all stiff and one needs to stand and jump about on the spot even more than usual. A girl with a rat in her pants could not bounce about any more. A warm bath at the end of the day is just the ticket. Or a good stiff drink, as some do – to each their own as long as there’s smiles and mirth I’m all for it.

As a side note, you would think rowdy Troubadour apprentices would go tricksterin’ all over the bath area. But nooo, not a single bath-related prank have I seen! Clearly people are too well-mannered or shy, for surely I cannot be the only one to see the comic potential of a single bath with no lock on the door?

Dear Diary,

Followed the sound of grunts off the street to find the Admiral sparring the crap out of a young fellow named Bryn-something. I don’t like blades and sharp things very much, but wooden swords are just fine! Seeing sweaty men fight it out does have a sort of aesthetic appeal to it as well.

How fast her Grace dul Ansari’s daughter has grown! I first played with little Allie when she was still in her mother’s arms. Now she’s already two! I think the child does recognize me from before. Bells and bright colours tend to do that. She had a doll named Sophie, and she and Mrs Buttons immediately got off on good terms. Praise her doll’s hair and a little girl’s heart is won!

… At least until a friggin knight shows up with a helmet that is just one huge smile! I swear it! It just kept on smiling. The kid was mesmerized, and so was I. I love smiles. But is having one in steel cheating, or not?

A big wad of paper and nothing to do with them! Oooh, and a quill and ink is here too! Even a fool can read those signs! I’m supposed to write some stuff with this! A diary it is! First entry. Dear diary …

Dum-de-dum, what to write … Ahem.

Hello.

Not bad for a first entry in my very first diary. Right proud I am! Somewhat short though. And why does one say “Hello” to a diary anyhow? Can you hear (read) me, diary?

… guess not. Or maybe the diary’s shy. Not every day that it is written in by a full-fledged foolish girl after all. With bells on her head and everything.