Holofernus Meiersdorf is a halfling beekeeper who lives in the fantasy land in which the Witcher franchise takes place. Previous reviews of Beekeepers in fantasy worlds have provided us glimpses of some very powerful beekeepers. Sadly, Ol’ Holofernus is not another one like that.

Holofernus, with his sons Bernie, Franklin, and Hugo, runs a honey farm called Honeyfill Meadworks. They seem to do a good job of it, so I’m not going to impugn their skills as apiarists. But what they don’t have is that extra something that makes truly special beekeepers. When they think their farm is under attack by a ghost, what do they do about it? They hire the Witcher to solve their problem for them.

These guys live in a world where magic and stuff is all real, but instead of using magic to become Ultimate Level Beekeepers, they’re just ordinary halfling guys who are actually worried about the threat that ghosts could pose. Power to them for being good at beekeeping, but it’s just a shame that they don’t apply themselves and unleash their full potential.

Two Honeycombs out of Five.

Hey, remember World War Two? It was kind of a big deal back in the day. Were there any beekeepers in there? Of course there were! Today’s beekeeper is from a story called “Hellfire by Night” in issue #278 of a series called GI Combat from DC Comics. It’s August in France in ’44 and an American outfit is trying to bring down a panzer tank.

Beekeeper Eddie Mapes is a private in the unit, but he isn’t very good at it. His Sergeant sees him as a worthless klutz and makes sure that Eddie know it. When the tank makes a sudden night attack, Eddie runs off into the woods and the Sarge thinks he was deserting, so he attempts to have him tried.

But actually, Eddie had never intended to desert. He’d actually gone out into the woods to find a beehive. Sarge considers this the craziest thing he ever heard, but the unit’s Captain decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and Eddie gets to go ahead with his plan. The next time the tank attacks, Eddie crawls stealthily up to it, climbs on top, opens the hatch and throws his beehive in. The Nazis are driven into a panic by this sudden bee assault and crash their tank and die. Promotion ahoy!

Note that Eddie could probably have done this plan just as well with a grenade. Or he could even have used the gun that he brought with him. But that ain’t how beekeepers roll.

We don’t know all that much about Eddie. He’s probably at least a normally successful beekeeper, but what about supernatural powers? Well, he holds on to the beehive for hours without so much as being bothered by a bee, so either they knew he was able to keep them calm (smokelessly) or they were just cool with him to begin with. Also, the fact he was able to find the beehive in the woods in the first place could be a sign of some sort of bee-sense. Nothing that raises him to the potential demi-god status of beekeeping, but it makes up for his initial failures as a fighter.

Two Honeycombs out of Five.

“When human beings first discovered honey, they had hunted the wild bees and followed them back to their nests. Some enterprising honey-lover must have noticed that bees often nested in hollow trees, and so, perhaps, rolled or dragged or hacked out a suitable log nearer hoe, left it at a convenient spot, and hoped a passing swarm might settle in it. Eventually someone began experimenting with making hives out of straw, mud, clay, pottery, and with sowing the seeds of plants bees were seen to like; and eventually with breeding more docile bees.”

This history of beekeeping comes from the point of view of a young lady called Mirasol. The protagonist of the novel “Chalice” by Robin McKinley, Mirasol lives in a place called the Willowlands in a fantasy universe that relies very heavily on traditions. The Willowlands are governed by a body called the Circle, eleven mystically appointed individuals who keep the realm from tearing itself apart, literally and figuratively.

At first, Mirasol is just an ordinary civilian, keepin’ bees out in the forests of the Willowlands. Even at this point, she’s damn good at beekeeping. From a line of beekeepers going back at least as far as her great-grandmother, she is the most successful beekeeper in the Willowlands. It is widely acknowledged that her bees produce the best honey “because they like [Mirasol]” and she knows how to treat wounds, such as burns, with honey and make candles from beeswax that contain honey for scenting. Her bees are “unusually large” and “only their bellies were striped yellow; their backs were a black as velvet-gloss as a fine horse’s.” She also has a policy of helping her colonies survive through the winter, instead of culling them as the other beekeepers in the realm do (which probably is why the bees like her).

But that’s just the beginning for ol’ Mirasol! Because after a tragic turn of events that results in the death of several members of the Circle, Mirasol is chosen by the mystical powers that guide the land. Mirasol is made the new Chalice, which is not only a member of the Circle, it is the highest ranking member. The bad news is that Mirasol was never given the training she needed for a magical and highly ceremonial role. To make things worse the turmoil of Willowlands are “teetering on the edge of disintegration” because of this traumatic changeover. Spoilers though: in the end thing turn out well enough for the Willowlands. I’m here to talk about her powers.

Becoming the Chalice gives Mirasol’s already impressive Beekeeping Stats an incredible boost. Every Chalice is connected to a symbolic fluid, mostly water or wine, though there are historical precedents for milk or blood, but Mirasol becomes the very first Honey Chalice. Almost as soon as she is chosen as Chalice, her bees just go into overdrive. They dedicate whole hives to storing honey without combs, so Mirasol can drain the honey without the need to break anything, and in other hives they store empty wax for her to use for things such as make candles. They even seem to store excess pollen for the winter. Furthermore, she develops an ability to “listen” to honey and tell what kind of benefits it has, which is good because her bees produce a bunch of different types of honey. There’s a honey for helping one sleep and another for giving one energy to stay up. One is good for curing stomach-aches and another keeps dogs from barking. Basically, she’s got a bunch of magic potion honeys on tap and ready to use.

Given that they already liked Mirasol, it is no surprise that in her powered-up form, her bees never sting her and she never needs smoke to calm them. They also develop a tendency to follow her around in small groups, helping her out or protecting her. When the final climactic scenes of the book come, her swarm is joined by bees that aren’t from her hives, and even wild bees.

Finally, Mirasol does get angry from time to time, but never to an extent that it seems to be Beekeeper Rage. Thus, I have to say that the one and only thing that keeps Mirasol from getting a perfect score is that she shows no skills as a fighter. And personally, given how well she picked up being the Chalice of the Willowlands, I bet that if she tried it out, she’d master it pretty easily.

Four Honeycombs out of Five.

“‘Your average beekeepers usually wear gloves,’ he explained. ‘A lot of the brave ones use gloves with no fingers and thumbs so they can work with the bees more easily.’

Mr. Andretti thumped himself on the chest and went on. ‘But your truly outstanding beekeeper – such as myself – likes to work with his bare hands. My bees trust me.'”

Mr. Andretti is a beekeeper who appears in a Goosebumps novel called “Why I’m Afraid of Bees” and, as the above quote proves, he’s kind of a boastful sort. I fully admit that when I set about reading this book, I was under the impression that the beekeeper was going to be the bad guy, responsible somehow for the main kid getting his brain switched into a bee’s body. Disappointingly, that ain’t the case. The kid gets himself into that mess on his own. Andretti is just an ancillary character, the kid’s neighbor. He’s seems to be a decently successful beekeeper, though he’s kind of a jerk. He seems to know that the main kid is afraid of bees and likes to make him think the bees are out of control just to laugh when he gets scared. He also tends to yell sarcastic remarks at the kid if he catches the kid staring at him. And he’s got a strong tendency to laugh at his own bad jokes. I can only assume that all this jerkish behavior is Andretti’s way of dealing with a relatively mild case of Beekeeper Rage.

I’m taking Andretti at his word that his bees trust him. He also claims to “have complete control of those bees at all times.” He apparently doesn’t mean this in the sense of literally having mental control of the bees (he uses a net to catch straggler bees), but this is as close as Andretti gets to any kinds of powers or badassery. With that in mind, I can only give him:

Two Honeycombs out of Five.

Lucius Farnsworth should have been one of the greats. Appearing in comics by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in the early sixties, Lucius could have become one of Marvel’s most successful properties. Sure, he was appearing in Weird Sci-Fi stories, instead of more standard superhero fare, but so was Hank Pym and he made it to the Avengers.

But before I continue my rant about that, I should explain who Lucius Farnsworth is. Lucius was born with the all sorts of fancy mental powers and, naturally, he uses them to be a kickass beekeeper. He’s the “most successful honey producer in the state” and he has a luxurious estate to prove it. From his few appearances, we can see that he can hypnotize people and communicate with bees. He can also shrink himself and others at will. Who knows the limits of his mental powers. But, as far as ultra-powerful millionaires go, Lucius isn’t a bad guy. In one story he wants to help a loyal gardener reach his potential by starting his own business. In the other, one of his hired hands tries to burgle him, and Farnsworth just gives him a bee scare and lets him go when he promises not to rob anyone again.

To sum up: He’s a rich and powerful beekeeper who is a decent guy. But maybe that’s why he wasn’t successful? All of Marvel’s heroes in the Silver Age were really defined by their weaknesses. The Fantastic Four bickered like a real family, and the Thing was trapped in a monstrous form. Spider-Man was a kid, with kid problems and his superhero life did nothing to improve it. The X-Men were discriminated against. Daredevil was a lawyer. That sort of thing. But Lucius here has everything going for him. But does he really?

Lucius is old. His powers give him the most incredible mind, sure, but his body is well past its prime. If we use that as Lucius’s humanizing feature, we can have him trying to solve problems every month while his ungrateful kids try to convince him he needs his rest and that he should let them take over the running of things. His series would have been cancelled pretty quickly, sure, but the Hulk only lasted six issues on their first attempt. Lucius would have been relegated to guest appearances and more offbeat series never quite successful enough to break into the mainstream. He probably would have been shoehorned into ugly costumes in attempts to make him popular, or de-aged to make him cool. But hey, all that’s Dr. Strange’s deal too and he’s got a movie coming. I love Strange, but that could have been Lucius up there on the big screen and we’re all poorer that it isn’t.

But all of this is beside the point, isn’t it? I’m here to review how good Farnsworth is as a beekeeper. Well, he’s pretty good. Very successful, very powerful. Judging from his restrained treatment of a criminal, there’s no sign of Beekeeper Rage. Pretty good indeed.

Three Honeycomb out of Five. With full confidence that he’d be at Four if Marvel just had the guts to give him the exposure he deserves.

I’m just saying, if that SHIELD show I’ve never seen wants to do an episode around this guy, they should gimme a call.