The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

The Galleisian War Saga is the prequel series to the main story. It begins with the birth of Boudicca's father, and ends with Alasdair's coronation. It's a huge project, encompassing about 150 years of Frewyn history, including the Brennin family feud, the Livanon Civil War, and the altercation with Gallei that brought everyone together. This particular piece is about Vyrdin, Boudicca and Alasdair's commander when they were in Tyfferim Company. He came to the keep as a fugitive and stayed to become one of Frewyn's greatest heroes. Enjoy.                  T he sun began its descent on the holiday eve, and as the varied hues of the gloaming winter skies cast its amber and indigo light over the capital, Ailineighdaeth broke upon Frewyn in a wave of mirthfulness and merriment: the bells from the church purled and resounded throughout the kingdom, songs and gaieties reigned, fires were lit and meals were pronounced, the mel...

T he afternoon passed agreeably, spent in the happy throes of shoveling the caved-in tunnel, and with the arrival of gloaming came the rumbling of Miss Sniffle’s stomach. She had cleared the path enough to open the door and resolved on finishing the rest tomorrow, resigning herself to the comforts of a warm fire, rosehip tea, and acorn pancakes. The hearth was lit, the water was boiled, the batter was mixed, but she had not begun to cook the first of the pancakes when she heard a loud thump outside. She glanced out the window to find snow once again in front of her door. She sighed and looked up: the snow from the boughs had been shaken down by the howling gales. “I guess I’ll have to shovel the entire thing again tomorrow,” she sighed to herself, and she returned to the kitchen to resume her work when a knock at the door gave her a start.                 A knock at the door? Impossible. Who could it be, in...

T he Sniffles were prudent in removing to Lucentia before the winter began, leaving their fair daughter to be mistress of the hawthorn on Broadwood Lane. Upon their leave, they made her a generous present of the family portraits, their finest set of painted porcelain, and left her the best of the carpets, as where they were going they were certain to be met with the very finest satins and silks that the richest country on the Northern Continent had to offer. Miss Sniffles could very well do without silks and satins and finery of any distinction; all her happiness was in sitting by a warm fire, her embroidery in one hand, her needle in the other, and with a slice of sweet bread soaked in honey on the small working table beside. She spent her days in a cheerful reverie, venturing to the nearby markets to see if there were anything fresh giving away, fetching excellent prices for chestnuts and filberts, saying hello to all the young hedgehogs and rabbits in her way, and glorying in al...

Frewyn has many stories, legends, and myths, all of them compiled in a book called Frewyn Fables. Since many have asked me to write some of these stories, I began writing a children's series by the same name. Frewyn Fables includes stories from across the kingdom, tales from the smaller inhabitants of the Continents to legends of the Gods themselves. Here is a first look at one of the stories: A t the end of the Broadwood Lane, where the low boughs of evergreen were hung round with heavy snows, in the oldest hawthorn tree lived a family of mice by the name of Sniffles. As they were so busy fussing and flumping over the cleanliness of their doorstep, gathering the leftover grain in the threshing field, and maintaining the loveliness of their whiskers, mice seldom ever took the trouble of giving their children first names. They were more distinguished by their appearances than they were by titles and ranks, and when the mother and father Sniffles had their only daughte...

Parents, especially when wanting the best for their children, have no idea how much their habits and professions can ruin their relationship with their child. Many blessings to friends who had a mother like Maddie MacDaede.  T he clamp packed and patted with mangolds, Boudicca had nothing to do but begin on the potato clamp. She began digging the next hole and matting it with straw, and once she was satisfied with the depth and width, she turned to barrel wherein sat hundreds of potatoes from the harvest, waiting to be eaten or reintroduced into the soil as time would serve. The sight of her mother entering the yard from the house and walking toward her moved her to pause and observe her stumbling steps. Her illness was beginning to claim her legs and hinder her mobility, and before her mother could trip over the newly made clamp, Boudicca went to assist her and bring her back into the house.              ...

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,...