Chapter 91

They came upon Anita holding her book in one hand while dramatically gesturing with the other, stridently reciting bawdy poetry to a cringing group of puritans, all holding up crosses and shielding themselves with their holy writs from the relentless stream of suggestive poems, being recited by the young lass they had mistakenly accosted.

Freya burst out laughing at the tableaux before her.

As one their eyes opened wide and they fled in mock terror while crying, "We did not know she had a giantess with her! God spare us!"

Freya giggled and yelled, "Fee, Fie, Foe, Fum, Ah smell th' bluid ay some Pur, it, tans!"

Roger merely rolled his eyes and sipped at his ale before saying merrily, "I see you deployed your secret weapon against metrophobes, young miss."

Anita giggled and replied gaily, "T'was most effective M'lord!"

"Yes, I could see how effective it was. The timing of our arrival was most fortuitous I must say." replied Roger with a wink.

Anita smiled and said cheerfully, "I found a friend of ours here at the faire, he is working in one of the booths. Come with me and I will show you his booth!"

Taking the lead, Anita led them through the crowd of merry makers who parted before the young giantess approaching them.

Freya had a way with crowds who seemed to magically part before her.

Anita smiled as they approached a booth they had not seen yet.

Hidden under a sprawling oak tree, it sold little porcelain animal pendants that hung from silken ribbons.

Outside of the booth an enormous young wolf sat in regal splendor, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth in the warm weather, Astrid lazily watched the faire goers as they wandered past.

Inside the shady booth lurked Warren Johnson, the head librarian at the Museum of Cryptozoology's Karloff Library and at present, faire booth manager.

He grinned upon seeing them approach and called out, "Good morrow good gentles! So good to see you on this fine day! Come in, come in out of the sun."

They paused briefly to scratch Astrid behind her velvety ears then entered the booth which quickly became somewhat crowded with Freya's looming presence as her head barely cleared the poles above them.

Roger and Warren shook hands and he said, "Would you care to partake? I have an Imperial Russian stout readily to hand."

Roger grinned as he held up his own tankard and replied, "Guinness, if that is acceptable?"

Warren grinned crookedly and said, "Some of that braggott from Old Harald's brewery would be even better, but one cannot have everything!"

Roger smirked and remarked, "Braggott would be better. Sadly, they were out of it and me firkins are safely at home and out of our reach."

Warren held out his large wooden tankard and Roger took a taste of his offering before glancing around and handing the tankard to Freya, who also took a wee sup. As she was standing with her back to the entrance, no one walking past would see the exchange of potent fluids taking place.

Freya offered the tankard to Anita who politely declined.

Warren retrieved his tankard then fished a small silvery flask from deep within a hidden pocket.

Handing it to Roger he said quietly, "Single malt Scotch from the Isle of Skye."

Roger took the wee flask and after getting a small sip he smacked his lips and remarked, "I'm afraid I am dismally ignorant when it comes to Scotch, it certainly has a taste!"

"How did you find me?" asked Warren.

Roger smiled and replied, "That would be Anita's doing, she brought us here after we sort of rescued her from a flock of Puritans or perhaps we rescued them from her? She was holding her own against the lot of them and our arrival tipped the odds too greatly in her favor.

"They fled to recover their battered sensibilities and Freya did not help one bit with her yelling about smelling the blood of Pur, it, ans!"

Warren chuckled and remarked, "I'm sorry I missed that one!"

"Yes, it was a hoot!" remarked Roger. "Seeing Puritans put to flight was most amusing."

He peered into his tankard and muttered, "'T'would appear that me tankard has run dry, I must away to the nearest ale stand!"

Warren sighed and remarked, "Sadly, I have my booth to manage, else I would join ye in a hoisting of the tankards."

"Perhaps afterwards?" asked Roger.

"Afterwards would be good." replied Warren with a smile.

"Come back here before closing and I'll vouch for you when the Beefeaters come through to clear out the travellers."

Continuing on their way, they found a drink stand where they got a refill.

Having refilled their tankards, they strolled along enjoying the sights and made their way into a living history area to enjoy watching the reenactors at work.

Freya found the methods they were using to be quite familiar to her and she nodded in approval while watching the smithy in action.

The smith paused in his forging of an implement and held it up for them to see.

He grinned at Freya's smile and said, "'Tis not often I get a lass such as yourself admiring me work."

Freya grinned at him and said pleasantly, "We hae a smithy whaur Ah cam frae up in Canada, Ah used tae watch heem at wark when he war makin' tools fur me dad."

The man grinned and remarked, "I would love to meet your village smithy to see how the Jotuns forge their tools."

He stepped over to a completed piece and handed it to Freya.

As she examined the finely made door hinge he said, "Take this with you when next you go home and give it to your blacksmith, tell him it is a gift from me."

Freya smiled at him and replied, "Thenk ye, Ah shall dae 'at! Guid day tae ye."

He smiled at her and replied, "'Twas a pleasure to meet you Lady Freya. Good day to ye too."

Next, Freya insisted on looking over a small garden plot being tended by a woman in period garb.

As she watched her at her labors, the woman looked up at Freya and her eyes widened at the sight of an 8 foot tall young woman admiring her handiwork.

The woman smiled and said, "Good morrow M'lady, me wee garden is comin' in most agreeably well."

Freya smiled and replied, "Ah can see 'at, yer garden daes look verra guid. Ah dae a bit ay gardenin' meself at me haem. Me mammy lochs me tae grow uir veg'tables fer uir kitchen back haem in Canada."

The woman smiled and remarked, "A garden tended by you must be quite the sight to see!"

Freya smiled and replied, "Aye, that it is."

They left the woman to her labors after thanking her for her time and strolled over to where several men dressed as monks were tending a large pot with great care.

It was a brewery and the men were making a batch of ale.

Two of them were tending the bubbling pot while two others were carefully drawing off the liquid from an earlier batch into wooden casks for aging.

The last man was drawing a gill of ale from an ageing cask for taste testing.

They stopped what they were doing at the sight of Freya smiling at their efforts.

The man with the small glass in his hand smiled and said cheerfully, "Hail and well met, young lady... M'lord!"

Freya smiled and remarked, "A guid day tae ye, O brewmaster. Me great ooncle up north is uir brewmaster an' Ah've helped heem wi' tendin' th' pot oan mony an occasion."

The brewmaster's rotund face lit up and he exclaimed, "Then I have nothing to teach you, young lady of the north..."

He glanced around and said in a low voice, "Would you care for a wee taste?"

Freya smiled and said sadly, "Regrettably Ah am oanly four an' ten summers auld an' th' law ay th' lain forbids me frae tastin' yer offerings."

She smiled, "Ah dae thenk ye fer yoor kind offer."

The brewmaster's face gaped in surprise and he gasped,"I beg your pardon miss, I had no idea you were so young, your size threw me off!"

Freya laughed and said merrily, "Ah get that reaction aw th' time, dinnae feel badly abit it. Amang me fowk Ah enjoy a sup ay ale noo an' again."

Roger smiled at the brewmaster and asked, "We've been invited to have a tankard or two after closing, will your ales be served, perchance?"

The brewmaster smiled, "Aye m'lord, our poor efforts will be offered to her highness' court this e'enin', we pray they will meet her highness' approval."

Roger smiled and remarked, "If your ales taste as good as they smell, they will be welcomed indeed!"

The brewmaster smiled and said, "A moment of your time m'lord?"

"Certainly."

He drew off a gill's worth of his ale and presented it to Roger, "A gill, fresh from the tap, if you please m'lord."

Roger took the proffered glass and held it up with a critical eye, some of Warren's knowledge of brewing had rubbed off on him and Roger inspected the amber fluid carefully, "Nice color to it for a summer ale." he muttered.

"Ah, you know something of the brewers craft m'lord?"

"Not me so much as my friend Warren, he has taught me a few things to look for. That and m'lady's great uncle, himself a brewmaster amongst his folk."

"Ah."

After getting a noseful of its scent, Roger took a sip, smacked his lips a few times, then took a larger sip, more like a sup, then he looked around and slipped it into Freya's hand, "Tell me what you think."

Freya repeated his earlier performance and took her first sip, moments later she set the now empty gill glass down on the counter and declared, "'Tis verra guid, me great ooncle Auld Harald woods approve ay yoor efforts!"

The man dressed as a monk, smiled and bowed slightly, "Coming from a Jotun lass, that is high praise indeed, I thank thee M'lord, m'lady!"