December 11, 2024
Håkan pulled the imaginary cloak tighter around himself. Krut padded alongside him, constantly babbling incoherently about “snowball magic” and “gingerbread rituals.” The barn loomed ahead of them, dark and mysterious in the winter evening.
“So, what do we do if… he’s not home?” Håkan whispered, glancing at Krut. The pig tilted his head and looked unusually thoughtful.
“We knock, of course! Or… we could leave a gingerbread cookie as a bribe? Except… oh no, we ate the last ones. What do you think about glitter instead? EVERYONE loves glitter!”
Before Håkan could answer, a low rumbling sound came from the barn. The doors creaked open slowly, as if by themselves, and a cold gust of something that smelled like hay mixed with snow swirled out. Håkan took a step back. Krut let out a quiet “Oink!” and hid behind Håkan’s legs.
Out of the darkness emerged a small figure. He was no taller than a child, but there was something deep and ancient in his gaze. His face was weathered, his beard tangled, and his green-gray clothes looked as though they had endured many harsh winters. But there was something else that stood out – a steady, almost shimmering aura of authority. It was as if the barn itself had held its breath to listen to him.
“Who are you to disturb my peace?” The voice was deep and carried a kind of creaky gravity.
“We’re… uh… ambassadors of Christmas spirit?” squeaked Krut, while trying to hide a pile of glitter behind his back.
The little gnome raised an eyebrow.
“Christmas cheer? Glitter? Nonsense!” He muttered to himself and knocked his hat into place. “And what do you want with me? I have tasks to attend to!”
“Uh, are you Berske?” Håkan asked, his voice trembling and faltering.
“It depends on what you need me for.” The gnome crossed his arms and stared sharply at them both.
Krut attempted a gesture of familiar friendship. “We need your help! Christmas is losing its magic, and we thought, you know, a… uh, a farm gnome like you might be able to fix it?”
Berske sighed deeply and looked first at Krut, then at Håkan. “Christmas magic? Is that what people care about these days? I have other things to do than run around saving Christmas.”
He turned to go back into the barn, but before the doors could close, he added, almost as an afterthought:
“But you can come in for a while. If nothing else, I can keep you from messing things up for me.”
Krut and Håkan stared at each other, stunned. Then they sneaked in after him, through the doors that closed with a dull “klonk.”
Inside the barn, it was not what Håkan had expected. It wasn’t just hay bales and old tools – it was like a whole world inside, filled with small and large things that blinked and glittered in the light of an invisible fire. But there was also a sense of order, almost military discipline.
Berske was already standing at a table, studying something that resembled an old map.
“So, you’re saying the Christmas magic is fading? Then it’s best if you don’t distract me.”
Krut took a handful of glitter and prepared to spread “a little extra joy.” But a look from Berske made him freeze mid-motion. “If you even think about throwing that in my barn, I promise you’ll be sweeping the floors until midsummer.”
Oh dear, how will poor, grumpy Berske handle the much more unstructured Håkan and Krut? That remains to be seen for those of you following along!
Speaking of midsummer, you know that on Vrångö, the most idyllic archipelago midsummer celebration you can imagine takes place, right? The whole village comes together for a grand celebration down at the harbor, where the maypole rises high above the white-painted boathouses and cottages. People dressed in festive clothes with crowns on their heads march to accordion music around the village, and there are ring dances, raffles, homemade treats, games, and everything else that makes a perfect midsummer celebration. All organized by entirely volunteer efforts! Here, you can see a snapshot of what it’s like when we celebrate midsummer on Vrångö!
