• Fool: Fitz fitz fice fitz. Fatz sfitz. Fitz! Fitz fix fice fitz. Fats sfitzes.
• Fitz: Fitz. Fitz, that's me. Yes. My name is Fitz, are you lost?
• Fool: Fitz! Fitz fitzes fyces fitz. Fatzafices.
• Fitz: It's all right. Come along, then.Come along. I'll show you the way back home. All right? Don't be afraid now. Come along now.
• Fool: No. Listen to me, you idiot. Fitz fixes fyces fitz. Fatsafices.
• Fitz: What?
• Fool: I said Fitz fixes fyce fitz. Fat suffices.
• Fitz: Wait! What does all that fitzy-ficeys stuff mean? Are you making fun of me?
• Fool: Hardly. Fitz fixes feists fits. Fat suffices. It's a message, I believe. A calling for a significant act. As you are the only one I know who endures being called Fitz, I believe it's for you. As to what it means, how should I know? I'm a fool, not an interpreter of dreams. Good day.

fitzandthefool:

OH MAN I DID IT AGAIN FIVE SECONDS IN THE ROBIN HOBB TAG AND I AM HAVING SO MANY EMOTIONS ABOUT THE FOOL

THE FOOL YOU GUYS

THE FOOL

I CANNOT

gpoy

I think it is. Many readers probably recall that at the end of Assassin’s Quest I was certain that I had finished writing about Fitz and the Fool. Then I found out I was wrong. So this time, I’m only saying that I think the story is finished. If a truly compelling plot set in the Farseer universe suddenly came to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to write it. But I don’t want to write another Farseer or Liveship story simply for the sake of writing a Farseer or Liveship story. I don’t want to take a story that could be set anywhere and force it to be a Farseer story simply for the sake of ‘branding’ it. That would be cheating, and my readers, I am sure, would not only know immediately, they’d let me know that they knew. It would be unfair to the readers, to me, and to my characters.

Margaret Astrid Lindholm Ogden

You think to arrange the world to your liking. So you map the band and draw lines across it, claiming ownership simply because you can draw a picture of it. The plants that grow and the beast that rove, you mark as your own, claiming not only what lives today, but what might grow tomorrow, to do with as you please. Then, in your conceit and aggression, you wage wars and slay one another over the lines you have imagined on the world’s face.

Name it as you will, claim it as you will, the world does not belong to men. Men belong to the world.