Work Text:
`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝔸𝕟 𝔼𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´
In the central area of the most populous metropolis on the planet, in the department store of the colossal mall and stupidly packed with families, couples and tourists, toy trains and a gazillion of Christmas decorations surround the Santa Plaza, right in the middle of the complex building. At Santa Plaza, a line worthy of a Taylor Swift concert to meet a figure as despicable and popular as: Santa Claus.
And eventually, the little helper... Thorfinn the Elf.
"Ho ho ho!...", the middle-aged stranger with belly padding and a fake beard rings a shrill bell right in Thorfinn's ears, "Merry Christmas, children!"
"Santa Claus, Santa Claus," one of the noisy brats with a runny nose waves his little arms, almost hitting Thorfinn in the elbow, "Is it true that you can give me anything I want?"
"Yes, little one," Santa continues in a sly voice that sounds like the last whimpers of a dying man with yellow fever, "As long as you've been a good boy!" And, turning to Thorfinn the Elf, as per the script of this stupid part-timer job: "Elfinn, check the list of well-behaved children if... What's your name, little one?"
"Alex!"
"...If Alex is among the names, yes?"
The man hired to play Santa Claus smiles broadly, his cheeks rosy with makeup. Thorfinn doesn't smile, he stares dryly at the co-worker, then the kid Alex, and then the fluffy papyrus with the letters of the alphabet thrown in sequence to illustrate an unrealistic list. "...Oh, yes, Alex is here. Like all the other brats who bother the caregivers at the kindergarten because their parents can't bear to babysit and then bring them to the mall on holiday in hopes of finding other caregivers to dump their kids on, while they make stupid purchases–"
"Oh!!! Alex is on the list! Alex is on the list! I want a drone!"
Apparently, Alex doesn't understand sarcasm, irony, or social criticism. Santa Claus maintains his good old man smile, a surprising actor for such a low daily payment. Thorfinn sighs. Maybe spending a week at the juvie would have been better than paying for community work.
Thorfinn looks away at the large metal clock in the central part of the Santa Plaza, marking less than twenty minutes until the end of the mall's four-hour daily quota of free labor. Four. Hours. Standing. Dressed like a knock-off Peter Pan. Putting up with brats.
At least Juvie would have some oranges at snack time.
"Maybe this was the Judge's secret plan... No... No, the Judge wouldn't be so cunning...", Thorfinn the Elf mutters to himself, his gaze lost in the direction of the little shops that surround the Santa Plaza, "...It's as if Balding Eviladd suggested this at court, my bespoke torture..."
Speaking of the Devil – he himself emerges among the mall's customers. Well, not Askeladd, but his spouse (or whatever), the hairy bodybuilder with a certain adoration for exotic cuisine and FPS games: Bjorn.
Thorfinn's eyes grow wide and alert. Bjorn doesn’t notice the elf next to Santa Claus' sumptuous red and gold throne, walking quickly around the circular plaza. Half hiding under Santa's voluptuous figure, Thorfinn follows the legal guardian's steps with his feline and curious eyes, until Bjorn stops in front of a pâtisserie kiosk.
It's a very small kiosk, and Thorfinn hadn't noticed it among the countless stores equally framed in holiday lights and decorations, but larger and more imposing than it. The pâtisserie, whose elegant, cursive sign is some word in French that Thorfinn doesn't even try to imagine the pronunciation of, is the size of a hot dog stand, engulfed in colorful lights and satin bows. Only one employee works (or rather, fits in the kiosk), a teenager at an apron as full of frills and bows as the Christmas decorations, who welcomes Bjorn with a polite smile.
Thorfinn crouches lower next to Santa's throne; with bitterness, he realizes that the pâtisserie employee is none other than the student council president of Thorfinn's school, Canute.
Less than fifteen minutes until the end of the daily shift. Elfinn is mentally preparing to run out the mall doors.
Children continue to arrive at Santa Claus, and Thorfinn makes a face at his co-worker when he realizes that he has to follow the Christmas wish script. It's almost evening, so the line gets longer and longer as more people leave work to come to the mall. Every two minutes, Thorfinn glances at the large metal clock and then Bjorn by the pastry shop. Twelve more minutes. Ten more minutes. Eight more minutes. Six more minutes. More–
"A real elf!" Oh. He is one of those children who believes in Christmas stories so much that he also admires the elf helper. The third of the day. "What's it like at the North Pole?"
Thorfinn stares at the boy, a freckled kid. He feels Santa Claus's gaze, who silently demands that he smile and make a sweet voice while he improvises some fanciful lie. Six more minutes, six more minutes... "It's cold."
"Cold?"
"Freezing."
"Then why do you wear short sleeves?"
Neat. A nosy brat. Thorfinn loses his patience, bends down to the child's eye level and smiles evilly: "To have a coat, I need to work five hundred years on bread and water, like all my enslaved elf brothers. It's like that, at the North Pole."
Immediately, the child's eyes open wide in terror. Santa opens his mouth to retort and correct Thorfinn's prank, but another voice is quicker: "How can such a bad boy work for old Nick?"
Thorfinn flinches. Slowly, he bravely turns his face over his shoulder, to see Bjorn's amused smile, arms relaxed on the low white fence of the Santa Plaza. Next to Bjorn, Canute on the frilly apron, looking flabbergasted. "...T-thorfi...inn...?" Oh. Red cheeks are not from the cold or embarrassment. Canute is trying not to laugh.
A few steps away from them, a mall security guard had left a segway to communicate with one of the people in line. Thorfinn, expression neutral, did not respond to either Bjorn or Canute, jumping on the segway like a cat and immediately fleeing the crime scene.
On the clock, it was already three minutes past six o'clock. No one could say he hadn't met the quota.
`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕂𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕂𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕂𝕖𝕝𝕝 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´
Cordelia is a fourteen-year-old girl who lives with her mother in a small country town. It's a peaceful and quiet life, and Cordelia is normally a shy girl... And adolescence has made her more nervous every day. Sure enough, when her father picks her up to spend the holidays in the metropolis where he works, Cordelia realizes that she acts like the epitome of country bumpkin.
"Hey, no need to hold back," Thorkell's booming voice awakens Cordelia from her self-censoring internal monologues, "If you're excited, let the enthusiasm take over! It's like I always say! Live to the fullest today!"
The girl smiles awkwardly. Her father is terrifying, a huge, larger-than-life man with a voice like thunder and a crazy smile. Still, Cordelia admires him a lot, as she would also like to live assertively. "Dad... I would like to go to the mall... I want to see..."
"Santa Claus? Of course! Let's go now!" Thorkell turns the steering wheel in a sudden movement, and Cordelia holds tight to her own seat belt, still not used to her father's deadly way of driving. She doesn't have the heart to explain that she wants to see what a movie theater in a big city mall is like... And that she's a little too old to be excited about Santa Claus.
This is why she now finds herself in a long line of families with children in hand, circling an extremely decorated part of the mall, with a gigantic Christmas tree in the center. The tree, whose height reaches the dome of the five-story retail building (the mall looks like a castle...), is decorated from top to bottom with what appears to be thousands of small golden stars, as if it were a galaxy apart. Cordelia, so enchanted by the tree, even forgets the curious looks of the little children. After all, she is... A very big child.
The wait in line is long, and Cordelia regrets choosing the doll heels for the event. When they are already inside the Santa Plaza area, with a few families left in front of them before it's their turn, Cordelia notices the figure of Santa Claus, a man who genuinely seems very kind to the children. On either side of the actor on the Christmas throne are two small figures in green costumes and golden bells, a girl and a boy. They are both quite small in stature, so some children are the same size. If Cordelia didn't look closely, she would think that elves were infants too.
Noticing Cordelia's gaze, Thorkell begins to spy on the pair of Santa Claus's helpers, and, for reasons that Cordelia can't explain (very common, in fact), her father raises his arms in a broad gesture and shouts a roar from the rooftops. ...Joyful, so to speak.
"THOOOOOOOOOOOOOORFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Cordelia blushes from head to toe. After a moment of shock, she notices that one of the elves, the boy, also is in shock. Thinking back, Cordelia remembers that she has a cousin with that name, who she used to play with when she was little.
The elf is still frozen in place, dumbfounded. Thorkell, in an instant, is in front of the boy. "Cord! Come see! It's really him! Thorfinn!!!"
The elf gestures to Santa, who seems to understand and hand waves. Evidently, Thorkell attracts attention wherever he goes, and so does Cordelia; together they capture the curiosity of the crowds due to their height and much to her father's loud behavior, and now, causing a scene in the Santa Plaza, Cordelia internally thanks Santa for releasing the object of Thorkell's focus. She is almost dizzy from so many spotlights on her.
The elf nimbly jumps the white fence, Thorkell close behind. Astonished, Cordelia looks for one of the openings in the fence, briefly losing sight of the two relatives. Panting, she catches up with them at one end of the stores’ gallery. Thorkell, a huge smile on his face. Thorfinn, a murderous scowl.
"Ha ha ha! To think you'd be here! You don't even respond to me on group chat anymore!"
"It's because I silenced that rubbish", the boy replies, not at all happy with his uncle.
"You don't check my messages either, Finn!"
"It's because I blocked you."
"You're so mean!" Thorkell pouts, visibly hurt. Cordelia loves this side of her father, it calms the girl's confused heart easily.
Thorfinn, on the other hand, doesn't seem to feel anything about it. "And you're nosy. Act like an adult for once."
"Thorfinn... I'm sorry about all of this," Cordelia interjects, hanging her head in shame.
Thorfinn finally looks at her carefully, confused at first, until his face lights up with realization. "You... You really are Cord..." He looks up and down, fixing his wide eyes on his cousin's face in disbelief. Cordelia got used to this type of look, after all, a teenager her age isn't normally six foot tall with the arms of an MMA fighter. Instinctively, she grabs her elbow with the opposite hand, in a gesture of self-protection and shrinking.
When Cordelia allows herself to look Thorfinn back in the eyes, she is surprised by her cousin's soft face, with a brief smile. "You've grown up," he comments, with a hint of pride that disconcerts the girl.
Thorfinn turns to his uncle: "Listen, I'm in the middle of work, I don't have time to put up with relatives. Much less you", cue Thorkell's face like an abandoned puppy. Cordelia feels herself blush again, after all, they are really disturbing Thorfinn. The elf spies something behind her, and concludes: "...But my shift ends in one hour."
The father's face lights up. Cordelia also gets a little excited, while Thorfinn turns to the store the trio is in front of (the girl finally notices that it's some kind of fancy bakery), kicking it a couple of times against the window. Cordelia falls into despair again, after all, Thorfinn was always a cute and kind cousin to her, but she remembers how he was a rowdy and quarrelsome child too...
"Hey, President," he calls. An almost angelic figure emerges, if it weren't for the equally murderous grimace that the attendant gives Thorfinn when he sees him.
"I'm not your president here. If you kick my pâtisserie again, I'll guarantee you a one-way ticket to the North Pole."
"I brought you clients, asshole," Cordelia's eyes widen at the vulgar treatment. The kiosk attendant remains impassive. "I'll be back here at six o'clock."
The attendant looks away, to check on Cordelia and Thorkell. As if by magic, the ruffian look melts into a sweet and gentle expression. Cordelia is sure that the boy must be a TV star. "I see... You must be related to Thorfinn. Welcome!"
Cordelia is stunned. How does he know?
`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕒𝕪 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕝𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´
When Bjorn commented to Askeladd that he had encountered a very rude elf at the mall days before, the lobbyist smiled to himself in satisfaction. Now, he was the instigator of such punishment, in a legal appeal typed up and directed by himself to the office of the Small Claims Judge. Sending Thorfinn to the juvie again was not only a waste of time and public money, it would also cause problems for Askeladd as legal guardian. He still had hopes that the boy would get along in life, and maybe go to university or do something decent.
So what better thing to do about a brat who gets into street fights than to force him to deal with other brats? Askeladd smiled to himself. Give snakes their own venom...
Obviously, Askeladd knew about the community work at the mall. As usual, he feigned ignorance and just nodded when the boy was allowed to go home the week before, with a crumpled piece of paper in hand and some grunts that translated to "do volunteer work downtown between two and six" and "don't ask questions".
Askeladd was only busy the last few days. Today, however, is the day before holiday eve, and companies are also in a festive mood. He had been married to Bjorn for over a decade and they had rarely been able to go out on dates lately, so, when he suggested a trip to the mall, Bjorn immediately understood what kind of fun his spouse had in mind. He agreed, obviously.
"You were the one who talked about how the pastries in this place were out of this world. I was curious," Askeladd smiles mockingly, bringing the cup of macchiato to his mouth to hide it. "If the cuisine is French, why are there so many Italian drinks on the menu?"
"Want my au Lait?" Bjorn genuinely is sarcastic about his coffee offer.
Askeladd, however, sees an opportunity: "Are you going to offer me milk right here, love?"
Bjorn is surprised, but soon gets the hint: "Yes, very creamy... And warm."
Unable to hold back, the two peer at the Santa Plaza. Indeed, Thorfinn the Elf is steadily staring ahead, ignoring them, with his usual bored expression. Also in fact, the ears that stick out from under the tousled hair are red as peppers, and the murderous expression scares the children around him. Askeladd and Bjorn intertwine their fingers on the table, satisfied.
"Ah, this coffee must be really good then!"
Askeladd's smile fades. He knows this voice. It is the calamity itself in the form of a human being. "...Why... Thorkell. What a coincidence."
Without invitation, the big man pulls a chair from another table and places it next to the couple's table. He sits inverted, resting his arms on the back of the furniture and relaxing his jugular vein on his crossed limbs. "It's been a while since we worked together, huh? Although I also had a lot of service outside the country... Ah!" He swings his arms, and Askeladd instinctively tries to protect the dishes on the table with his own arms. "I'm spending the holidays with my little girl! Do you know Cord?"
Bjorn and Askeladd look around, until they notice a young woman in a flowery dress and long braids. Her face, her physique — undoubtedly, daughter of Thorkell. "H-h-h-hello... I'm Cordelia...", her voice, however, barely audible. "Very nice to meet..."
Immediately, another youngster emerges next to Cordelia. "Cord! You're back! You have to try the madeleines I mentioned yesterday..."
Askeladd has a vague sense of recognition, but it is Bjorn who greets the boy in the apron: "Chef Canute! Look who I brought today!"
Canute turns to the men sitting at the table. He rests his eyes on the figure of Askeladd, in analysis: "What a charming husband, Monsieur Ours. Congratulations." With his index fingers and thumbs, Canute mimes the lens of a camera and focuses on the couple: "You should be the poster boyfriends of the pâtisserie!"
Bjorn lets out a little scream that doesn't sound like the voice of a thirty-eight-year-old man capable of lifting a pickup truck with his bare hands. Askeladd, without realizing it, softens his expression and caresses his husband's hand across the table, delighted. He almost forgets the purpose of the date.
"Ah...", Thorkell comments, without an inch of shame, "You are even more lovey-dovey than ever. I wish my marriages would last - or rather, intensify over time!"
"Father...", Cordelia seems dejected by the comment, and Canute puts his hands around the girl (her shoulders are out of reach), comforting her, while shooting an icy look at Thorkell.
"Ah, don't take this the wrong way, dear! Your mother is great, the problem was me... Er... I mean..."
Cordelia looks like she's about to cry or blend into the scenery. Askeladd rolls his eyes. Bjorn scratches his head, also at the lack of measured words.
Canute takes matters into his own hands: "Sit at this table, Cord, I'll bring you hot chocolate. On the house!"
"Oh? Your boss won't complain, boy?" Thorkell takes the opportunity to drag the chair closer to his daughter, the abandoned puppy look on his face again.
"Huh?", Canute looks over his shoulder, opening the kiosk's little door. "I don't think you understand, Monsieur Thorkell. I am my boss."
Askeladd raises an eyebrow. No teenager could own a store in the mall... But the young chef gets points for attitude alone. "This generation is completely absurd."
"You're talking like a boomer again, baby," Bjorn comments with a smirk on his face.
"Boomer?"
Thorkell puts his hand to his mouth theatrically: "Ah! A boomer! It's true!"
"Boomer? What kind of language is this?"
"Honey, don't..." Bjorn puts a hand to his forehead, disappointed in his husband. Askeladd feels even more lost.
"You know... Like... A Karen," Thorkell adds.
"A Karen."
"A soccer mom, mister", apparently, Cordelia was no longer sad.
"A technoob, darling," Bjorn contributes, somehow. Perhaps.
"A Facebook user," Thorkell jabs the air like it's a eureka moment.
"I believe they're trying to say..." Oh, glorious. Richie Rich from macarons is back. "...that monsieur is from the most classic era of generations." Canute places the mug of chocolate on Cordelia's table. "Your elegance and poise are timeless. Posh, even."
"...Well, I maintain a Facebook page because I need an image...", Askeladd defends himself. Defends himself? What is he defending himself against? "Look, if I'm a boomer, know that the world belongs to the boomers. You think the world belongs to the young, but all of this is merely capitalized on by the boomers to make more profit for the boomers. Who is the Karen now?"
"Still you," Thorkell replied with a sweet smile.
"Oi" Askeladd turns his face, like the others, to see Thorfinn the Elf leaning over the white fence, his gaze with a peaceful and, therefore, terrifying smile. "Either you tone it down, or move the tables closer to the kiosk. Santa Claus is about to call mall security and I'm personally going to hold the pâtisserie responsible for this mess next to the Plaza."
"What?!" Canute loses his composure. "This is your family, you're the one who should fix it!"
"Ah, my bad, nephew!" Thorkell smiles, scratching the back of his head.
"Family?" Cordelia seems self aware, however she peers at Askeladd and Bjorn curiously. Out of the corner of his eye, Askeladd watches, amused, as Thorfinn flinches when he realizes his cousin's confusion.
"Yes, well," and best of all, Askeladd doesn't even have to do the work: the candy boy is nosy in his own right. "Uncle, cousin, father and father. I have nothing to do with this." Canute shrugs.
Cordelia's eyes widen in realization. "Ah! I didn't know! Are you Thorfinn's new parents?!"
"Legal guardians. They're just my legal guardians," Thorfinn insists, in a desperate voice.
"Oh!!!" And so, Askeladd notices half a dozen kids surrounding Thorfinn the Elf, looking curiously in his and Bjorn's direction. "Are these Elfinn's parents?" asks one. "But they don't look like elves," a little girl comments. "Hey, hey, Elfinn, are they your daddies?" a third pulls Thorfinn by his green tunic of bells. "Oh!!! I thought Santa Claus was your daddy..." comments another, wearing prescription glasses.
"Tell them, Elfinn," Askeladd doesn't contain his smirk, "after all, who are we?"
Thorfinn turns his face away in annoyance, when a change in the brightness of his eyes alerts Askeladd that the brat has an idea. "You see, children..." And Thorfinn's friendly tone causes the five at the pâttiserie table to become apprehensive. "...These are Winter Creatures in disguise. That big guy is Santa Claus from the South Pole," he points out Thorkell, to the children's admiration. "The red-haired girl is the Spirit of the Christmas Tree," he continues, looking at the Plaza's decorated tree and causing Cordelia extreme blushing. "The furry one is one of the reindeers disguised as people, and the doll in the apron is actually Snowman." Bjorn smiles at the impressed, amused children, and Canute remains impassive. "And the rotten old balding is the Christmas Gift That No One Wants." Leaning down to look the kids in the eye, the elf says seriously: "If you are nosy and spoiled children, you will look like him on Christmas morning. Do you want that?"
The children, eyes round and shocked, shake their heads. Thorfinn stands and peers over his shoulder, a sneer, "Then go, little ones, and behave."
Askeladd rolls his eyes. What an insensitive son.
`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕀 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝕀𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕨 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´
After all, it is Christmas Eve. The mall must close early, and it is the busiest day of the entire week, with lots of last-minute shopping and people leaving and arriving from different destinations across the country and the world. It's also the last day of the damn community work, and finally Thorfinn will get rid of the Elf and finally be able to gallivant around on the holiday, like every other high school student.
It had been an especially long and boring week, not only due to the fact that he had to deal with a bunch of brats for an eternity of four hours a day, dressed as a clown of a design not approved by the circus, but especially due to the constant presence of nosy relatives and idiots on duty.
As soon as he arrived, he noticed that the pâtisserie was not open, although he was sure he had seen Canute at the central metro station about thirty minutes earlier. Unintentionally, he ended up coming every evening, after changing his clothes, to eat one of the sweets and have a hot chocolate. Well, there were many other options in the mall.
Thorfinn had also received a message from Askeladd on his phone shortly before telling him that he and Bjorn would come and pick him up by car later, and to wait for them. In previous years, they had no Christmas dinner, usually spending the night of December 24th eating reheated pizza and playing games or watching movies. Askeladd didn't like Christmas parties (or any sort of party for that matter), and Bjorn wasn't a Christian, so Thorfinn got used to not giving hype for this time of year. What the three of them liked about the holiday was the fact that it was a holiday. He was afraid that Thorkell might have convinced the couple to drag him to some dinner with other relatives that Thorfinn doesn't care to know, and the message made it clear that he had nowhere to run.
At least he could take comfort in hot chocolate with Canute, that stupid student council president. It's their last year of school, and Thorfinn is finally going to have a trouble-free semester, they could do holiday homework together...
Oh, whatever.
Just before three in the afternoon, Thorfinn notices Askeladd and Bjorn in the crowd, hand in hand, strolling relaxedly through the shopping complex. He's already on guard, waiting for the couple to approach Santa Plaza to annoy him with some joke or cheesy couple scene... But it doesn't happen. They head through the mall, shopping bags on four arms (one of them better have a new game for Thorfinn, otherwise these two are in big trouble). About an hour later, Thorfinn notices Thorkell (because it's impossible not to notice a seven-foot-tall man), holding hands with Cordelia and pointing things around as if the girl was four, not fourteen years old. She seems pleased, anyway, so Thorfinn just shrugs. Thorkell might think about taking his daughter to see other things in town instead of the central department store... Well, whatever. They don't come to Santa Plaza either.
It's a busy afternoon full of work, however, Thorfinn feels strangely lonely.
Around five o'clock in the afternoon, Thorfinn realizes that he is continually peering at the pâtisserie and the white fence of the Plaza, waiting for something. The woman who works as Santa's other helper gives him an inquisitive look, much like Santa as well. Conscious, Thorfinn mentally slaps himself and focuses on returning to the role of Elfinn (which is being an extremely cute and kindly spoken elf, which Thorfinn fulfills by being extremely apathetic and sarcastic spoken).
With almost half an hour left before the end of the daily shift, announcements begin on megaphones, reminding mall customers that the stores must close in thirty minutes, and that the mall itself must close its doors in one hour. People begin to rush through the halls, and Thorfinn the Elf heads to the entrance of the Santa Plaza to partially close it with a velvet banner, explaining to the people around that only those within the fenced area will still be welcomed by Santa Claus.
Upon returning to his post next to the red and gold throne, Thorfinn notices in his peripheral vision that the lights inside the pâtisserie are on, despite the counter remaining closed. Maybe it was a day of administrative work (is there room for accounting inside that tiny kiosk?), or Canute simply didn't feel like opening up (despite the bustling afternoon activity?), or...
Damn, how long until six o'clock?!
Six o'clock in the afternoon. The stores close with a chorus of metal doors sliding through the windows, and people continue with their countless branded bags through the corridors towards the building's exits. Santa Claus says goodbye to the last families, led out by force by the other elf, while Thorfinn turns to organize the equipment next to Santa's throne.
"Hey, kid", Santa surprises Thorfinn with his normal voice instead of the old man's emulation, "I've already signed the paper for your community work schedule. You're a student, you should leave as soon as possible, meet your friends, have fun. Leave the rest to me and Dagmar."
Thorfinn stares at the man for a moment, taking in the words. Finally, he shrugs and continues arranging the small table of equipment. "Ah, there's no rush. I don't have any plans for tonight, anyway."
"Really?" Thorkell's voice makes Thorfinn flinch. He turns to face his uncle, who is leaning on the white enclosure (evidently sagging under the giant's weight). For some reason, Thorkell is also dressed in traditional Santa Claus garb, with a fake white beard over his blond beard. "As far as I know, it's Christmas Eve. You and I have to travel the world today, kid!"
Thorfinn's mouth drops open. "What's this nonsense, madman?"
Cordelia emerges shyly from behind her father's broad figure. "Good evening, Thorfinn... We thought if you... Would you like to come eat with us..." Thorfinn notices that she, like Thorkell, also changed her clothes, wearing a green dress full of frills and decorations, as if it were a Christmas tree, even with a golden star as a hat. It would be extremely tacky, if it weren't for Cordelia making it cute.
"Ah, I knew it. You convinced the couple of the month to go to some Christmas dinner with relatives I don't know", Thorfinn pointed the accusatory index towards his uncle, irritated. "Those two idiots..." The Elf crosses his arms.
"That's not it, cousin!" Cordelia approaches, cautiously. "Hmn... It's a simple meeting... Right here."
Thorfinn tilts his head, shaking the bell on his elven hat. "Here?"
Smiling, Thorkell points with his thumb behind him, in the direction of the pâtisserie. From there, a crack in the window allows Canute's face to be seen, who smiles and waves his hand invitingly.
Thorfinn narrows his eyes. Thorkell is not to be trusted, but Cordelia is not one to lie, and Canute is not given to pranks. "I assume my guardians already know this too?"
Thorkell nods enthusiastically. "Okay, calm down, big guy," Thorfinn spreads a hand to ensure distance between the two, "I need to change before--"
"Nah!" Thorkell laughs. "You're dressed to the nines for the event!"
With one last look at the mall's Santa Claus, Thorfinn stuffs the court sheet into his pocket and climbs over the white fence (he really wants to do this again). The trio heads to the food area in front of the pâtisserie, which remains closed, much to Thorfinn's confusion. It takes forever (about ten minutes) for the kiosk counter window to finally open completely, and by then both Santa Plaza and the central area of the mall are almost deserted. And then Thorfinn understands why the calculated delay.
First, Canute, the chef, has a carrot for a nose. That's right. And an extremely ridiculous dark green top hat, an equally tacky scarf and a kind of white overcoat with black pompoms and green-and-red colored socks, and more pompoms on the Oxford shoes. It's a semi-Vogue version of Snowman. Thorfinn can't contain his laughter.
Next is Bjorn, with a tiara puffed up with soft ears and antlers, and what looks like a light brown kigurumi with a small tail. Yes, a reindeer. A bodybuilding reindeer. Maybe all reindeer are bodybuilders...
And finally, the worst of all: Askeladd. Obviously he couldn't go outside the kiosk with families around. The man is dressed in nothing more than the yellow shoes he has never worn before in his life since he got them for a birthday and a long, wide, shimmering red velvet ribbon, forming several ribbons of varying sizes on his ankles, shoulders and over his head.
"So, Winter Creature," Bjorn teases, "How do we look?”
Thorfinn trembles and finally laughs. "You guys look ridiculous! It looks like a carnival of horrors! What is this?! Am I dreaming? Am I feeling sick? Am I dead?" Thorfinn laughs openly. The others smile among themselves, mission accomplished.
Askeladd can barely walk to the nearest table, where Cordelia and Canute are arranging plates and silverware. Thorfinn feels equal parts embarrassment and the desire to film the whole thing. Thorkell takes it upon himself to bring a clay pot from inside the kiosk, and the delicious smell reminds Thorfinn of his lion's hunger. Bjorn pats the elf on the back, and invites him to sit.
Soon Thorkell and Bjorn begin some conversation about sports, Askeladd comments on French cuisine with Canute and Cordelia elegantly takes the stew and offers to give a new portion to Thorfinn. The elf observes the others around, in a strange meeting in the mall with many of the lights already turned off, a fancy chandelier illuminating the faces around the food court table, the smell of stew in the air, the side conversations.
It's weird. It's comforting. It's absurd. It's everything Thorfinn wanted.
"Okay," he raises his voice, after the third deep plate of stew, "Whose idea was it for the costumes?"
"Oh!" Askeladd smiles his bastard smile, "If you guess, you get a bonus allowance."
Thorfinn concentrates. Cordelia wouldn't think of something so silly. Thorkell is a strong candidate, but he is more practical and immediate than meticulous. Bjorn is more the type to stick to plans than the type to formulate. Canute is often unpredictable, and dedicated to details, but has a sense of the ridiculous. Askeladd would be the likely mastermind, but would he have suggested burying himself in nothing more than a large velvet ribbon? After all, the verdict: "In these cases, the answer is the least obvious." And, turning to his cousin: "It was you, Cord!"
"Baaaang," Thorkell says, much to his nephew's annoyance. "It was Bjorn's idea." Thorfinn raises both eyebrows, amazed. "Well, of course, we each contributed a little."
“You contributed nothing, monsieur,” Canute retorts, his voice nasal from the carrot coating on his nose. "Indeed, Monsieur Bjorn came up with the idea, Cord put together the costumes, I made the food, and Monsieur Askeladd financed the whole thing."
"Hey, I asked Finn to come here!" Thorkell pouts.
Thorfinn resumes his usual expression of apathy, in an attempt to hide his genuine joy: "And may I know why this whole thing? Is it some complex 'gotcha' against me?"
"Nothing much," Askeladd interjects, an enigmatic smile on his face that irritates Thorfinn. "Never heard the expression 'treat yourself'? We're finally taking a little break from our lives. It's good to give ourselves a break too."
"More like," Thorkell begins, and everyone at the table knows that some extremely bad joke is going to come out of it, "Treat yo' elf, right?" Thorkell laughs at himself. The others look at each other, disappointed but not surprised.
Not that it's bad. No, Thorfinn complains because he has someone to complain to. And this is very good.