December 24th

 

It was almost Christmas Eve and the cats were happily anticipating Christmas, if only because there would be no new trolls popping in each night. The treats and little gifts were nice, but it was nicer to know that there would not be intruders who might or might not be pleasant guests. So far only the bowl licker had been downright mean and rude, and it seemed like the Jólasveinarnir had shared the information about the cats with ones who hadn’t visited yet, and the visits were much more pleasant. Tonight’s troll was Kertasníkir, who stole your candles to eat them. The cats had discussed this very early this morning via email. Eating candles probably made sense nine hundred years ago when they were made out of animal fat, but now they were made from all sorts of wax, from paraffin to soy or coconut. Paraffin is made from petroleum, so it was definitely out for eating. The other types were at least marginally edible, but the cats figured they’d taste terrible. Years ago, Clem had nibbled a candle the yarn lady had on the table and it was tasteless and hard to chew. They discussed whether or not to try to find a few candles to leave out, or perhaps just go to sleep and ignore the whole thing.

BC and Sparky, the Jackson cats, opted for bed, saying they didn’t think there was a single candle in the house, except maybe an old birthday candle in a drawer. Clem and Ursula knew there were many candles around their condo, but most were scented, except some emergency ones. Candles don’t come with labels, once their package was opened, so there was no way to know what type of wax they were. Clem decided to put whatever ones she could find on the counter.

It was probably around 3am when the yarn lady woke up to use the bathroom. The light wouldn’t turn on, but her ocean noise was still playing, so the power wasn’t out. She felt her way to the end of the bed and pulled the cord for the overhead light, but it wouldn’t go on either. Sighing, she felt her way to the bathroom, and that light wouldn’t work either. She gave a little scream and yelled, “Enough is enough!” She heard footsteps approaching, and one of the Jólasveinarnir approached with a miner’s lamp on his head and an LED lightbulb in his hand. She glared at him and he lowered his head and sighed.

“I apologize, my timing is terrible tonight. If you don’t mind?” She stepped back and Kertasníkir screwed the bulb in the socket. “There, that is much better for the environment than that antique bulb you had in there.” He smiled encouragingly.

“You. Replace the other bulbs while I use the bathroom, and then we need to talk.” The yarn lady closed the door behind her and Kertasníkir scurried around putting new lightbulbs in the lamps he’d removed the offending bulbs from. He carefully put the old bulbs in a box he had put on the dining table and sat down to wait.

The yarn lady emerged, gave him a stern look and sat down. The Jólasveinarnir looked nothing like what she expected. She’d heard them most nights for the last week and a half but pretended sleep to let them get on with their tasks. He wore a long-sleeved tie-dye t-shirt and jeans. His long hair was in dreadlocks and he had a colorful knit hat on his head. “So, who are you? The environmentally conscious troll who happens to be a fan of the Grateful Dead?”

Kertasníkir looked confused. “I am a fan of the living and wish the world to live long enough for me to last out my exceptionally long lifespan. The dead may be grateful, but I won’t be if Ísland’s glaciers melt. So, instead of stealing non-existent inedible candles, I change lightbulbs to energy efficient ones. He held up the fancy bulb from the bathroom and very efficient but ugly LED bulb. “This will last four times as long and use much less electricity.”

The yarn lady held out her hand for her Edison bulb. “However inefficient this may look, it’s an LED masquerading as an incandescent bulb. I chose this for its look but didn’t ignore the science.” Kertasníkir looked embarrassed, apologized and hurried to put the Edison bulb back in the fixture. When he returned the yarn lady asked, “So, how has your trip to New Jersey been? I know what you’ve told the cats, as I read their emails about you all.

Kertasníkir sighed. “Ketkrókur and I have talked a lot over the past twelve days. He is right, it is not feasible to continue our traditional pranking. It barely works in Ísland, where the people expect us and it is more of a game. Fewer people live in the traditional villages or in any building we can get into. Many of you live in houses in this country, but most of them do not have the younger children. We’ve found some good neighborhoods, but too many are like this where everyone is, pardon me, old. I doubt Gryla will agree to disbanding the Jólasveinarnir, so I fear we will resort to deceit in years to come, telling her we have done the tasks, but meanwhile having a nice vacation somewhere warm. Honestly, other than lying to Langamma, it sounds like an enjoyable way to pass a few weeks at the start of the hard winter.”

The yarn lady shook her head sadly. There were so many traditions that hadn’t survived the changing times. Some, like slathering yourself in oil and lying in the sun for hours were plain unhealthy, others such as kids having a newspaper route were deemed unsafe. “How about you and the other Jólasveinarnir come over for dinner on the 26^th? I’ll invite MR and we can talk about whatever comes to mind. You won’t have to steal your dinner at least for that one night.” She laughed at her own humor.

 Kertasníkir thanked her and said he’d convey the invitation. Probably not everyone would want to come, but he was sure that at least Ketkrókur would come. As he headed for the front door, the troll slipped some pouches of the food his friend had left last night into the two sneakers. It had gone over so well that he figured a repeat would be appreciated.

The yarn lady looked at the clock. It was 4am, but happily it was only Christmas eve, so she could sleep as late as she liked. As she lay down in bed and pulled the covers over her she said to Clementine, “I know you’re not asleep. I hope you don’t mind that I asked the trolls to dinner on Boxing Day. It should be interesting.