Oin. Which only makes sense if you read the book.

In between bouts of melancholy and frantic, hysterical working, I've managed to do some knitting. Oh, don't mind me, it's really not as bad as it sounds (although not by much), but I have to say, this has been a hellish week. I'm really proud of myself that I've managed to keep working through many a trial and tribulation, but I'm ready for the Universe to try me out working through a calm week. Or three.

Anyway, knitting. I've told you about making my Thorin's Hooded Cowl, yes? The one I'm making for myself? Well, I cast it on late last week and despite my native aversion to knitting at this time (I don't want to make negative associations with the sport), I've kept going. Honestly, it's kept me sane. Here is a progress shot:

I love my colors. Very woodsy. This, you must understand, is the bottom half (minus a bit of a second, bigger white stripe) of the cowl alone. The hood will be brown, which is why I'm calling it my Oin. Yes, I'm a Tolkien nerd, what of it?

Ok, ok, for the non-Hobbit fanbase out there, Thorin refers to Thorin Oakenshield, a dwarf who wears a sky blue hood with a silver tassel. No sky blue on mine, nor would I ever dare pretend to be as impressive a personage as Thorin Oakensheild, King Under the Mountain (in exile). No, the one wearing a brown hood in the book is Oin, who has just about zero lines of speech and (since I'm only just re-reading the book for the billionth time) probably exists only to serve as dragon fodder. Ah, well. Time will bear that last observation out for me. For all I know, Oin ends up a fat, rich dwarf after Mr. Baggins returns to Bag End. It has been a while for me. Aaaand...a quick review of Wikipedia shows Oin, son of Groin (oh, how unfortunate) died in the battle for Moria, running away. Lovely. A cowl named for a coward. Maybe I'll change it.

So I'd better get back to the whole 'writing for profit' part of my day. I'm in a bad mood (as I have been), and I want to go be knitting again. Or maybe eating dinner. First dinner, as it happens.

I always was more a hobbit than dwarf in that regard!