Michelle Franklin takes us back to Frewyn!
Join her as she tells us all about it!
The Haanta Series is the longest, ongoing, online romantic fantasy series. Thousands of readers visit the world of the Two Continents to enjoy the daily short stories featuring all their favorite characters from the Haanta Series novels. In between the business of the books, the commander, Rautu, Otenohi, Unghaahi, Leraa, Kai Linaa and Alasdair enjoy some time together in Diras Castle, but as the stories portray, mischief lies in every corner of the keep where spiders, chocolate pies, petulant giants and grouchy cooks abound.
From the short story “The Five-Second Rule”
There was a long-standing rule in the kingdom of Frewyn pertaining to food that had gained tolerable popularity, but while it was followed with decent devoutness, the exact stipulations of this rule had gone mostly unspoken: the Five-Second Rule, though a favourite with many a man in Frewyn, contended that any meal which had the unfortunate claim of falling to the ground might again be picked up if done within the boundaries of five seconds. There were other more precarious iterations of the practice that allowed for a period of ten seconds, but those who kept such a prolonged observance were certain to die from the disease that would latch onto the fallen article within the added time. It was generally unknown when this practice had begun or whence in the kingdom it came, and while it may have begun as a means of salvaging food during times of privation, the rule was soon a settled thing, ingrained into many a mind and practiced by young and old.
Men were the great champions at applying this rule, for those who took their daily feriation in the taverns asperged about the kingdom became well versed in the art of reclaiming a fallen slice or two during their bouts of mild insobriety. It became a sport, the finer points of which were discussed and remonstrated over pints of Mother Morlund and Go to the Wall. Rules within the rules were made: damp and dirty floors must never be eaten from, cooked meats and steamed foods must be left for the hounds, but anything that was somewhat dry and could be easily swept away might be taken up again and eaten with tolerable comfort.
Fallen food, once assessed by a discerning eye, could not be eaten with careless alacrity; it must first be subjected to the proper scrutiny, must be blown upon and turned over and blown upon again, must be examined for any excessive debris, must be burnished with a somewhat clean hand or polished with a corner of a sleeve, and then it might be passed round and subjected to a public assessment before it could be deemed eatable. All this, seemingly a waste of time and effort, while prized by many a Frewyn farmer, had been used to horrify the Den Asaan. Many time during the Galleisian War had he observed a cern or a captain reclaiming fallen provisions, and while to lose dried beef and cured pork was a terrible thing, it was far more terrible to see a sullied piece, knocked about by many a boot, taken up and eaten. The poor giant agonized over such a practice. He should starve rather than eat something that had been so bemired. His chief horror in the business was in seeing the cerns take up a fallen piece which had been kicked about and trod upon and eat it without any attempt to clean it. The giant's looks of horrified disdain garnered an explanation: the ground, though dirt itself, was not dirty, and indeed there was no time in a war to bother with cleanliness or epicurism. Disgusted by such an insalubrious practice, the Den Asaan had avowed never to understand it and swore never to accept such a ridiculous rule, but the imminent loss of a piece of Tyfferim Dark, forged by the hands of so skilled a chocolatier, soon changed his mind.
He stood at the kitchen table, unpacking a delivery made to him from Diras Delights, and as Betsiegh was in the secret of the giant's favourite treats, she had placed the large slab of Tyfferim Dark at the top of the parcel. Instantly, upon opening the box, did the giant attack the chocolate, tearing away the thick brown packing paper with all the fervency that his dependence could excite. His eagerness, however, had been his ruin: a small piece of chocolate broke from the bar as he finished unwrapping it, tumbling down and skittering across the ground, stopping at the foot of the table, waiting patiently to be picked up and admired and eaten. Consternation struck him most forcibly: what was he to do? He could not merely leave it derelict and forlorn, but taking it up only to throw it away should be an unbearable shame.
About the AuthorMichelle Franklin is a small woman of moderate consequence who writes many, many books about giants, romance, and chocolate.
Blog Tour Link: http://wp.me/p30w17-5w
Add the book to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11162598-tales-from-frewyn
Buy links: Amazon (http://viewBook.at/B00BLGQJUM)
Barnes and Noble (http://bit.ly/WXSeaB)
Social media links: