Life is simple in Frostspire, a sleepy little village perched by the sea, cradled in the lap of mountains tall and snow-clad. Yet a simple life is not without its problems. Fortunately, the folk of Frostspire have someone to turn to when in need; a...
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When Mr. Launceleyn won first prize for the biggest giant pumpkin in the grand competition that was held in Roselake, it was certainly a matter of great pride for the people of Frostspire.
But the problem started when he couldn't seem to figure out what to do with such an enormous thing, cut it up in slices, and started handing it out to everyone who happened to cross paths with him.
Alvar had seen the orange giant, and prayed for the poor horses that had to draw it in a carriage all the way to the town and back. In fact, it was big enough to be made into a carriage itself. Carve out the flesh from the inside, cut out a door, attach two pairs of wheels at the bottom, and lo, a fine carriage for a princess to travel to her luxurious balls, he thought.
Be that as it may, it was not good for eating. You couldn't put it in soups, nor in stews, and not even Lars with his cooking skills could sweeten it enough to make a pie out of it. Its flesh was watery and stringy, and oddly mushy that felt revolting to eat. But Alvar couldn't bring himself to throw away his share, for good old Mr. Launceleyn had put his very soul into its making.
The bigger reason was, of course, that he couldn't possibly dispose of it in a discreet manner, not in a small place like Frostspire where everyone knew everyone's business.
He could only imagine the look on the man's face if he happened to pass by their house and saw his precious pumpkin rotting in the manure pit.
"It'll make him sad," said Alvar, eyeing the giant slices that crowded his kitchen counter. "Also, it'll be a waste of food."
"If food you call it," said Aunt Elena, morosely lifting the lid off the bowl of last night's leftovers--the aftermath of Alvar's heartfelt attempt to make something edible out of half a slice. It was not so bad, though bland and chewy. Then she looked back at how much of it was still left on the counter and sighed. "Growing real sick of this, y'know? And it's only half a slice. Come on, let an old sailor savour the last days of her life! You don't want me to starve, do you?"
Alvar shook his head at her silliness. "Oh, come off it! Fine, I'll make something different. It'll be a nice change of taste."
To her surprise and delight, he brought Gran's notebook to the kitchen and laid it on the counter. He flipped to a page that had piqued his interest for a long time, for it struck him as odd to have been included in what essentially was, for the most part, an easy manual for gardening magic.
