2020 was stupid. Hopefully 2021 will be less so.
It's come to my attention that I'm taking this writing thing too seriously. LIFE has been too serious.
So...here's a work in progress. It's not political. It has no major life lessons. What's in it? Whatever I want.
Messy, unedited, and just for fun...enjoy.
Autumn Dawn
Mother
of Ice & Frost
by
Autumn
Dawn
PUBLISHED
BY:
Autumn
Dawn
EDITED
BY:
To
be determined (let me know if you're interested in the job)
their
email address (if applicable)
COVER
IMAGES: Shutterstock.com
Find
out more about upcoming releases: www.autumndawnbooks.com
Sneak
peeks of works in progress: authorautumndawn.blogspot.com
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me on Facebook
Title
Copyright © 2021
by Autumn Dawn
All
rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or
introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or
by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright
owner and the above publisher of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of
fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use
of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored
by the trademark owners.
Contents
Chapter
1
Chapter
2
Chapter
3
Chapter
4
Chapter
5
Chapter
6
Chapter
7
Chapter
8
Chapter
9
Chapter
10
Chapter
11
Chapter
12
Epilogue
About
Autumn
Dawn
Bibliography
Title
It
had been thirty years since the Convergence, when the dimensions
aligned and combined Earth and the world of Gwyllon, known in human
mythology as “Underhill”. Elven castles and ancient ruins
sprouted in vacant lots, on major highways, sometimes merging with
existing buildings, twisting into completely new structures. Roads
and rail systems reformed, and after the rioting, starvation and
death, agriculture finally sorted itself and food began to flow. A
new government formed of elves and men had arisen, a society of human
tech and elven magic. Cell phones and frost giants, race cars and
elven steeds, dungeons and dragons…
And
everywhere, monsters.
Mother
of Ice and Frost
The
Convergence had changed their world. Years ago, Earth and the fabled
elven world had melded, causing earthquakes, raising sunken islands
and unleashing monsters. The catastrophic disaster disrupted every
facet of transportation, agriculture and caused widespread death.
When the shaken citizens of both worlds finally sorted things out,
roads got fixed, farms and factories started to produce, and oil and
natural gas once more fueled the nations. The world ran on a mix of
magic and science, allowing dragons to rule the skies and satellites
to dominate space.
These
days, resources were focused on infrastructure, communications,
manufacture and monster control. Meat and animal products were
especially rationed. It took a lot of manpower to protect herds of
animals and helpless, delicious chickens from hungry monsters. WW2
memorabilia and rationing posters were back in circulation, as people
were encouraged to “grow your own” and “have a monster garden”.
Etsy sold framed posters of Rosie the Riveter, people were encouraged
to “made do and mend”, and homemaking was a full-time job again…
Which
is why Hakon and his brothers were struggling. Women were naturally
superior at homemaking; at least Fern thought so. Didn’t mean they
couldn’t do other jobs, just meant they knocked it out of the park
on the home front. The ability to shoot and fix tractors if they
needed to was a definite bonus.
Fern
serves the perfect frost giant family, until a disaster forces her to
find a new home. Turns out another family is in need of a live-in
housekeeper. It’s not exactly a dream job.
He
needed a cook. Maybe someone to clean house. The little human woman
seemed like a good idea, but it was tricky keeping her alive.
Heat
level: sweet. Contains no graphic love scenes.
Expect
reasonable amounts of gore as monster heads explode and plenty of
action.
Prologue
“Daddy?
Why are there monsters?”
“Because
people complained that they couldn’t believe in things they
couldn’t see. So God opened their eyes and all hell broke loose.”
Fern
finished blending the soap and removed her stick blender from the
bowl of emulsified fat and homemade lye. She hummed along with the
radio as she poured the soap into the greased wooden mold. After it
set but before it was hard, she would slice it into bars and let it
finish curing for a few weeks.
She
took the mold and carefully stepped down from the stool behind the
tall kitchen counter. At 5”8, she was hardly short, at least by
human standards, but this wasn’t a human household.
The
laundry room was right off the kitchen, and she placed the soap on a
low shelf next to the cleaning supplies. The shelves ran all the way
to the ten foot ceiling, but she didn’t feel like climbing the
ladder.
It
was time to start on lunch, so she moved the stool to the stainless
steel sink and started scrubbing enough potatoes to fill the five
gallon stock pot for creamy potato soup.
It
took a lot of soup to feed a family of frost giants.
The
snow was January thick, and the thermometer outside read -40 F,
typical for North Dakota. It didn’t bother her here in the warm
kitchen, though. She could see the hay barn stuffed full of giant
round bales, food for the goats, sheep and cattle her bosses owned.
The goat shed was directly in front of the window, so she could see
her boss, Embla, pitching hay to the goats and knocking ice out of
the water bins. Dressed in nothing more than suede pants, boots and a
gray t-shirt, the seven foot giantess wasn’t at all bothered by the
cold. Her long blond hair was braided, and she wore an ax strapped to
her back, within easy reach. Bare handed, she pulled the metal bound
gate closed and latched it, unconcerned with the frosty metal’s
bite.
Fern
caught a glimpse of her face in the triple pane windows and checked
to make sure her hair was still mostly tamed by her own braid. The
wild curls would never perfect, but at least they stayed out of her
face with this style. The freckles she could do nothing about.
Embla’s
feet stomped snow off outside before she breezed in. She toed her
boots off and padded across the hardwood floor. “Snow coming. Good,
you started the soup.”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
Embla
opened the industrial steel fridge and polished off a quart of fresh
raw goat’s milk straight from the jar. Embla took care of her
precious goats herself, preferring the outside work, but Fern
filtered the milk for her and made cheese, just as Embla had taught
her.
She
also made the household bread, pickles, kombucha and almost all the
meals. She loved the kitchen work, loved tasting the delicious food
she created. She was constantly reading, learning new recipes and
techniques to expand her knowledge.
If
she could have lived here, life would have been nearly perfect.
Sadly,
her apartment was in the city, less than ten miles away, but worlds
apart. She couldn’t see how her dream of having her own country
home would ever work out, despaired of meeting a man who shared her
vision, but she was grateful for the job that let her have a piece of
it.
The
radio buzzed with an important weather announcement. Snow was
supposed to start by early afternoon and become a blizzard. School
would be dismissed early.
Embla
grunted. “You’ll have to take the bus home early, then. Probably
run late in the morning, too. Figures.
I was going to make beer tomorrow, too! Now I’ll have to cook
breakfast.” She scowled at the big basket of eggs on the counter.
Ebla was a good cook, but she’d rather be outdoors with her
animals.
There
was nothing she could do about it, so Fern stayed silent. She would
have happily stayed the night on the couch and got up early to cook,
but Embla’s seventeen year old son was a flirt. He was way too
young for Fern, who was twenty-four, but Embla would never stand for
the human to stay overnight. She was taking no chances; a human
female was not suitable for her son.
Fern
didn’t take it personally. Embla wanted the best for her boy. In
her world, marrying a human was literally marrying down. Who wanted
short grandchildren? Embla’s parents were both nine foot plus, and
Embla was considered petite (she had a bit of a complex about it).
She’d never hear the end of it if her grandkids were puny and weak.
Fern
had heard Embla’s mother’s deep alto voice (she was a loud
talker) through the phone often enough to sympathize. How could such
a booming voice sound shrill?
Kory, Embla’s son,
stomped off the snow on the porch a little past one PM as Fern was
cleaning up the lunch dishes from Embla and her husband.
Seventeen, dark
blond, 7”9, Kory was decent looking, with hands and feet that
promised more growth to come. He grinned at Fern and sniffed the air.
“Smells like good things cooking.”
She smiled back and
set out a big bowl, fresh bread and utensils. “Creamy potato soup
with bacon. Here’s the shredded cheese.”
“Awesome! I’m
starving.” He wolfed it down, followed by two more.
“They let you out
early,” his mom remarked from her loom. Although she had her
sheep’s wool commercially carded and spun, she enthusiastically
wove and knit. She also used the tanned hides to make pants and such
for her family, producing most of the textiles for her household.
She’d even made a couple of pairs of pants for Fern, amused at the
tiny size.
Sadly, Fern wasn’t
as talented with fiber arts, but she couldn’t be good at
everything. Besides, she more than made up for it in the kitchen.
“Yeah. They’re
warning of storm hags,” Kory said.
Fern froze with her
hands in the dishwater. She’d turned the radio off after the storm
warning, figuring she was up to date. Quiet time was expensive today.
Embla paused in her
weaving. She put on her boots and went outside. Fern watched her take
a deep breath, sampling the air. When she came back in, her face was
grave. “Leave the dishes. I’ll drive you home.”
She’d never
offered to do that before.
