The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Lucentiana is the day that marks the fist day of the Lucentian new year. It commemorates the day that the elves came to the west in search of a new home after cities in the east were destroyed. They established themselves as a new nation, began a steady flow of commerce and trade, made alliances, and a thousand years later, they are the wealthiest country on the Northern Continent. Well done, Lamir. T he morrow came, and Lucentiana, the day commemorating the elves’ first arrival to the west, was upon the princedom. Leraa was prevailed upon to stay and participate in all the festivities that the day had to offer, and Kai Linaa, being to dance in the Hachamba procession, was reason enough to remain away from the islands for one more day. He expressed his interest in all the minutiae of the day, wished to revel in its customs, and was desirous of being allowed to dance in the parade instead of remaining at the prince’s side and watching from the grand balcony, which was to overlook ...

Today is what would have been F. Scott Fitzgerald's 116th birthday, had he been privy to a drink from the fountain of youth. He lived in the glorious Jazz Age, a time when the fast life of the Roaring Twenties was at its peak, and his work thus reflected the dreamer's life he lead. His first book,  This Side of Paradise, brought him instant fame, but the remainder of his works were not popularized until the fifties. His most famous novel, The Great Gatsby , which since its publication has become a model for the tragic love story, was treated with little celebration when it was first released, leading him to believe that his bright star had already burned out. He turned to alcoholism, as many writers often do, and by the age of 44, the drink had overwhelmed him, leaving him in failing health until his death. His work inspired many authors such as Ray Bradbury, who boasts of having copious copies of Tender is the Night and of having read them while walking through Paris,...

A tribute to Harry Dodson, foreman gardener M esmerized by everything that the king’s gardens had to offer, Brighel followed Harrigh into the adjoining courtyard. The illuminated flower beds and low trees, all tastefully arranged, opened upon her in an inundation of splendor, the various colours and shapes of leaves and petals, the differing textures of barks and stems, the whirling seeds and clusters of keys falling to the ground producing a sufficient foray on her senses, stunning her into silence. She marveled at the vibrancy of the blooms and the amber leaves of autumn lining the planned walk. Maple and cinnamomum supplying their sweet scents leaned over surrounding wall, cape gooseberry and groundcherry garnished the soil, and there, directly beside her as she advanced along the path, was a coppice of the Frewyn winter rose, its crimsoned-tipped petals just beginning to curl.                 “M’Lady ...

Harry, master of all he surveys. From BBC's Victorian Kitchen Garden As a writer, everyone to me is a character. I meet interesting people everywhere and put them in my books, usually as an exaggerated form of who they are. Everyone's little nuances get expatiated in a book, but certain people are so unique,  there is no need for extra fabrication. Harry Dodson is one such person: head gardener at the Chilton Estate until he was in his 90s, Harry was a champion of gardening in the old style. His abilities were showcased on BBC's Victorian Garden series, but even more interesting than his powers were his glorious appearance and melodic voice. He looked and sounded like a character from Wallace and Gromit (minus the Lancashire accent). After watching him waltz around his gardens for so long, I decided he had to be placed in the series. Harrigh, head gardener of Diras Castle, cares for the king's gardens when his counterpart has already traveled to the stars.  ...

I was stung by a wasp last week. I hadn't been stung in almost twenty years. I had not remembered what a sting felt like, and I don't think I should ever like to endure that again. S he arrived at the line of trees to find the children filling their firkins with apples from the ground. “You realize that your father and uncle,” she said to the Little twins, “will insist on your washing these before any caramel apples are to be made,” but they could not hear her; they were laughing too much over the prospect of Soledhan parading about with a branch in his mouth. “Did you pull that down by your teeth, my love?”                 Soledhan grinned and nodded.                 “Continue to pick apples that way, and your teeth shall fall out attached to the branches,” said she, kneeling to pick up a few apples from the ground.  ...

One of my autumn highlights is apple picking. I never went when I was young, but that only allows me to enjoy it all the more now. From the orchard near my house              I t was not long before they reached the edge of Aiden and Adaoire’s plot that the children began racing toward the farmhouse. The twins, their dutiful wives, and their sons all hurried forth from the house the moment the party was descried from the window, and while they laid out warm teas and steaming pies to replenish and enliven the party, the prospect of spiced mead and family togetherness furnished them with all the jovial spirits that the beginning of the holidays could supply. All embraces and exchanged due pleasantries, and there was will more to discuss when Lochan and the MacDaedes arrived. All were exuberant to see one another under the sanguine prospect of a kingdom restored to its agrarian glory, and the king and queen gave their fervent commendation to th...

It was a hard day. How about a nice story?                  M orning ebbed over the Haanta archipelago, and with it brought the beginning of Kai Linaa’s day. The Phoraas was prepared, the early osculations between her and her mate were thoroughly enjoyed, and after Unghaahi had gone to begin his training on the shore, Kai Linaa was off to the well house to fill her stores and divest them across the island’s southern border. The sky, however, threatened rain, and though being only the beginning of the rain season, the scaled clouds billowing from the south recommended there being rainfall by evening. She went to the window and let down the bamboo thatch to keep any rain from entering the house, and once all the windows were covered, she tripped off to the well house and began her workday.                 The morning passed well: her time was agreeably spent doli...

The same thing happened the first time Rautu sat in that chair. T he more Bryeison surveyed the detail and the craftsmanship of the chair, the more desirous he was of trying it. The mahogany carvings lining the palmette spiraled down to the back of the seat and faded into the hickory of the arm; the leather, soaked in a brilliant red tannin, radiated his warm hue and dull sheen; the soft cushion of the seat gave way under the pressure of his hand and sprang back to its curved shape when he removed it, denoting the treated sponge interior; the cloth lining of the apron festooned into fine curtains against the cabrioles down to the scrolled foot. Draeden should not have done this : so stunning an article Bryeison should be mortified to break, and though the mahogany legs appeared well-built, there was no assurance of the chair’s being able to accommodate his insuperable weight.                 “You cannot t...