The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

An awesome picture from The Rat story that Twisk just finished A nxious that the cake had never arrived, Kai Linaa paced the length of the main hall, ever spying the entrance with a vexed look and a craned neck while keeping within sight of her door in the guest quarter. She wished to remain tolerably close to keep Unghaahi’s suspicions from impeding the delivery, but when two hours had gone and no delivery was made, she began to agonize in a frantic fit, proclaiming her ill-luck, reproaching herself for having ordered from the same bakery that had so slighted her before. Why had she done it when she knew she ought to have asked Martje to bake and dress the cake for her? He would have eaten it if she had made a point of its being a gift, and now he would have nothing for his birthday. Surely the commander had something planned, but that was always a private celebration between them, and here she wanted to do something more for him. She was growing too nervous and aggrieved, she wou...

A Gathering                  Dorrin, Ouryn, Fionnora and Ennan had finished with their individual lessons for the afternoon: Ouryn and Dorrin with their fencing, Ennan with his archery, and Fionnora with her healing, and when they all came together at the kitchen table, they delighted in telling one another of what they had each learned, holding high revel, professing to one another of their abilities and demanding to know what their friends had learned that they might glean some powers of understanding into each of their specialties. When Soledhan and Little Jaicobh arrived, there was an end to any peace in the kitchen. Martje was assailed by the sounds of giggles and tinkling voices, all of them eager to share with one another, and all of them equally keen to listen to each other’s tiny lectures. Ennan discussed the importance of a practiced hand with regard to mounting arrows and began his dissertation on...

Alasdair has a secret love of all bakes goods. He, however, as a great horror of gaining weight. Martje is forever making unwholesome things, and Alasdair is forever in a torment when he is invited to try them. A story from book 3. Aranabrenin Walking through the main hall and passing the Grand Hall, however, brought a different hue to the morning. Here he was stopped by flurries of maids and yeomen, all of them fluttering and bowing and curtsying, begging the king’s kind pardon but they absolutely must wish His Majesty infinite happy returns of the day, granting him the traditional Old Frewyn wishes of “May the most you desire be the least you receive” in their soft and varying lilts. This was the style of birthday he should wish to have: friendly, open, humble, and joyous, not with complacent airs and exclusive celebrations. Alasdair thanked them from his warmed heart, hoped he would see them in the afternoon at the square and around the capital, and inclined his head to each one o...

Martje soon recognized her error and recollected herself. How could she smile at the monster who had forever haunted her kitchen? And with such blithesomeness and good fellowship too- she reproached herself. In her moment of splendor, she had forgotten to be malicious, and now the giant would think her unserious with regard to her abhorrence of him. She frowned, and lifting her chest huffed, “So much for your doin’ anythin’, monster.”                 His fists tightened around the hilt of his weapon, his nostrils flared, and his arms shook with growing rage. “Very well,” he snarled. “Since you claim responsibility for this kill, then you will do the same for the mess that created it.”                 Martje spied the overturned dish rack and besides the rat and severed tail, there was nothing else that required her attention. She had clean...

 Rautu groaned, but would not allow the cook’s presiding over his investigation disturb him.  He quickly examined every tripped trap, marked the manner in which they were laid and the path of cheese crumbs leading away from them. His eye followed their pattern around the ovens and corners of the room: they seemed to make a circular path, as though they had been tripped in quick succession, all excepting one that was turned in the direction of the scullery. Through all of the rat’s shrewdness and determination not to be caught, it must have injured itself on this last trap and had scurried into the darkest corner of the kitchen to assess its wounds. He crept toward the scullery, and after a few moments of listening intently through Martje’s powerful whisperings of “Is it in there?”, he heard the gentle sounds of tiny fingers being repeatedly rubbed over whiskers. He tapered his gaze, drew his sword, and placed his back to the wall. Peering into the darkened section of the kitch...

The trapper soon came, but his efforts bore no lasting effect: the traps around the kitchen were placed, baits were duly set, but only an hour had passed when all of them were sprung, with every bait absconded and with no signs as to where the rat was gone. Tension raised throughout the keep, the trapper’s methods were again engaged, and again they were unsuccessful. Many began to wonder at the cunningness of the rat, rumours of a dark mage in guise began to spread, and the Den Asaan scoffed at every new report and machination. Had he been asked to hunt this elusive creature, the subject should have been closed long ago, but as he had not been applied to on purpose by Martje’s command, he must only observe and sneer at their ridiculous attempts. All of their contrivances would not do where his hunting prowess might, but his office for the day was to stand by and witness the trapper’s numerous failures while making his dry “heh” and fleering at Martje’s expatiating panic.   ...

Martje, the Diras castle keep's cook, only has one fear. The small mouse was conveyed safely to Sheamas’ shoppe, where his arrival was met with a celebratory dinner of smoked cheese and cured pork, and once his belly was round and his eyes could not be kept from closing, he was taken to the temple where he might find refuge under the auspices of the Themari. A small room and bed was given him, visits from Soledhan and Jaicobh were due, and Mr Sniffles the Second, as named by Kai Linaa, was in a way to be happy and comfortable during the long Frewyn winter. Kai Linaa and Mr Sniffles the First Esquire                 Martje, however, could not be nearly as easy. Seeing the mouse in her larder, though he had done nothing but sniff the air and squeak his solicitations, had roused a frightening concern within her. She could not revisit the larder without her eyes darting about, scouring every corner for some hint...

Sheamas’ Birthday                 Sheamas, much in the style of his father, was accustomed to having birthdays without the object of celebrating them. Though he could not be called old enough to regard the observance as a trite formality, he was sagacious enough to understand that birthdays brought undue celebration. Gifts would be forced upon him, drinks would be shared in his honour -especially where Aiden and Adaoire were concerned, a family party would be demanded, and upon the whole the celebrating of his birthday would be an insalubrious affair, one he was certain to like but one he could not condone; work would have to be missed, businesses would  need to be closed, and Sheamas felt it best to remain silent when the particular day arrived to save everyone the trouble of exertion. There were always a few nagging assertions from his mother, demanding that she be allowed to celebrate it by making him a s...

The F Word                 The commander entered the kitchen from yeoman’s quarter entrance of the keep to find Martje sitting at the table near the window with some tea in her hand and a large slice of sponge before her. She seemed downtrodden and dejected, resting her chin on a bent hand and staring sighingly out the window, her countenance rapt in despondent consideration. She only moved to sip her tea and lift her slice of cake to her lips. She masticated an a dour pose, seeming to hardly command enjoyment from such a luscious treat, merely eating for the sake of comfort rather than all the happiness such a delicacy would usually accord for the cook. She swallowed and sighed, and then mechanically sipped her tea and raised the cake to her lips once more.   Melissa MaCarthy can be Martje's stand-in for now                 Mar...

The Anniversary Cake                 Anniversaries in Frewyn were regarded by some to be somewhat of an absurdity, not due to any evil the day or the commanded celebration might produce, but to the enforced nature of such a day when it was completely undue. It was a day men that men were ever being urged to remember and a day that women were never allowing them to forget. It was not by any default of character that women and men had differing opinions on this subject, but it was on principle that in the finding of this day ridiculous, as Frewyn men often had done, they must be inclined to disregard it. Its farce lay in its expected frequency whereas an anniversary would have proposed an yearly commemoration, an anniversary was anticipate to be celebrated with more regularity than was tolerable. Weeks must be commemorated, then months much be observed, and on which days were expected to be exchanged gifts and...