Tatter's an ol' Irish word meanin' 'father of the clan' . Well, that ain't me. I'm just ol' TatterJack. I been walkin' these hills, tellin' my tales, since they was bloody mountains. I been doin' it so bloody long, there's some as tells tales about _me_ even. Like how if you stand with your back to a mirror, an' says my name, an' says it three times forwards an' one time back, an' three times back an' one time front, how I'll come. An' they'll say all sorts of things what happen next. But it's all rubbish. 'Cos first, I don't come when I'se bloody called, not to no-one. An' second, I don't rip out your innards to make my stew neither. Well, not very often. But if ye find me on the Road, we can sit us down, an' we can set us a fire, an' I'll tell ye a tale if ye've a mind to hear it. An' if it's a cold night, then mebbee it'll be one wi' some fire in it, to keep you warm when you're far from home.