(Dec '03) jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell flop (konrad)

Christmas was an unusual time. There were so many mixed emotions about the holiday. She loved the snow and cheer that hung in the air, but there was a bitter-sweetness to it. Valda hated to go home, though she loved visiting her father and his children. It was a weird thought for her to think she had siblings all under the age of six. She not only stuck out like a black sheep in his home, but she missed her mother too much to stay there. It had happened only a couple of years ago but the wounds were still fresh.

When Konrad had invited her to join him and Anders for Christmas, she eagerly accepted his invitation. It was reassuring to be with them. Sweden had started to feel like a second home. She couldn't help but feel comfortable and like she belonged by his side. Their friendship was strong and growing every day. They understood each other in ways that others couldn't due to their backgrounds.

Dinner wafted through the air as Konrad cooked diligently in the kitchen. He was a good chef too. Valda was grateful that he had learned how to cook so he and his brother didn't starve or survive off of crackers and cheese and sandwiches. She sat in a corner of the house with only an old dusty piano for company. His dogs, though adorable as they were, were forbidden from coming over. She had established her own barrier-physically out of boxes and spare chairs and magically- to keep the dogs away from her project. The piano hadn't been touched since their mother passed. She could understand. It was sacred and to be kept in the state in which his mother had left it. After learning that their mother used to play it and take good care of it, she felt it should be brought back to that state. With his permission, she had gotten to work touching it up.

Dusting the surface, cleaning the keys, getting inside of the piano and carefully clearing that of dust and debris, it was all mainly surface work that needed done. Magic was most helpful when she couldn't get into tight corners and narrow spaces with the rags she had. She greased the wheels to help it roll easily. The keys were polished. A leg of the seat was tightened which made it less wobbly. Then she had gotten a can of wood stainer. The aroma was strong so she kept a window open just a crack to help it air out. Her barrier she set up aided in keeping the fumes out of the rest of the house. It had lost it's color and shine through the years their mother had it. The piano had become an all-day affair that quickly took up much more of her time than she expected. She wasn't one to leave work half-finished so she didn't stop until it was completed. Valda had waited patiently to apply the appropriate layers before she finished with the final one. Only then did she allow herself out of her workspace, replacing the barrier just before one of his pups ran in, and went to meet Konrad in the kitchen.

Her bare feet padded on the wooden floors as she made her way to the sink to clean herself up. Her hair was pinned behind her ears. She had a smudge of the wood stainer on her arm and over her hands. It just barely missed the sweater that had been rolled up to her elbows to allow her to work. Valda scrubbed fervently to get it off. "It smells good in here! The piano has to dry and then it will be good as new." Valda beamed proudly over her shoulder at him. "I'm so sorry it took me away for that long. I had expected to be done by early afternoon. The piano thought differently. I think it was lonely and just wanted my company," she joked.   She turned around leaning agianst the sink as she dried her hands on the nearest hand towel. "What are you making? Can I help?"

@Konrad Lidström

Valda had offered to clean up the piano that once belonged to his mother, and in the first moment, after she'd said it, Konrad had wanted to decline. A part of him was afraid to let her near it because it was one of the few things they had left of their mother's. That part was loud, but the part that trusted Valda to take special care of it was a lot louder. And in the end, he knew it was the right thing to allow her to care for the piano. He knew his mother would appreciate the sentiment, and it was just another thing he appreciated Valda for. She was kind and sweet and thought about things like that, and he could tell how delicately she had asked because she understood the grief and longing that came from losing a parent.

As much as he knew the instrument was in good hands, Konrad felt uncomfortable sitting in the room and watching her work on it. It brought back a lot of memories of sitting on the couch, covered in puppies, watching his mother do the same sorts of things, and it was all too much. Especially considering everything else that was going on and all of the things he had yet to tell Val. The wizard knew better than to try to keep anything secret from his best friend for long. She always saw through it, and he always felt better after everything had been revealed. Konrad wasn't trying to hide it, but he was certainly trying to find the best possible time to tell her he had accidentally gotten her mixed up with the criminal organization that had their screws in him.

It was not the kind of conversation that happened casually over tea.

She had been at it a while, long enough for Konrad to finish some things around the house. After shovelling the snow on the porch and down the sidewalk all the way to the drive, changing some broken bulbs in the barn, and roughhousing with the pups for a bit, he ended up taking a shower and getting dinner started. The man was far from fancy when it came to cooking, but he did his best to keep his brother and himself well-fed. He tried to cook healthy things, but he wasn't perfect. And it didn't always come out as well as he'd hoped. The grease from the bits of potatoes and onion were spitting at him when Valda came bounding into the kitchen and Konrad was quick to shield her from it, smiling brightly as she moved on to the sink, and he furiously stirred the pan until it calmed down. "Thank you for taking care of it, Val," He said, watching her for a moment before returning to drop some ham into the big silver pot. "Really," Konrad paused, wondering if now would be a good time to drop the bombshell, and then decided he could at least wait until they had full stomachs.

"Nothing fancy, just some Pyttipanna," He moved out of the way to show her the fried up mix of diced potatoes, ham, and onions. "Gonna fry up some eggs too. Do you like beets?"

A beaming smile came from her as he thanked her for working on the piano. "Honestly, I'm honored you let me work on it." She put the hand towel back in its place and came over to inspect his cooking. "Mmmm," she couldn't wait to eat. Once she caught a good whiff of the food, her stomach made a horrible lurching sound. Valda laughed merrily as she hugged it. She'd eaten little all day with her focus on the piano. "I've never been one too keen for super fancy food. Just as long as it's good, I'll eat it." Her face lit up at his question. "Yes! Beets are great. Mama used to grow some in her garden every couple of years. Do you need help preparing those?"

While he moved about the kitchen, she gathered the dishes for dinner and began to set the table for the three of them in case @Anders Lidström decided to show up. She hadn't seen much of him since she arrived but was eager to wish him a Merry Christmas and catch up with him when she did. She carefully laid the plates out then set the silverware accordingly. Valda couldn't help herself from folding napkins and tucking one under each fork. She then laid out the glasses carefully before coming back into the kitchen. "Table is set! What did you call this dish? Pytt..paya?" Dinner was going to be amazing. She could tell and could barely wait.

Konrad chewed on the inside of his lip, knowing he wasn't as worried about whether or not she liked beets as he was about the other thing. How did one break the news that they had accidentally signed their best friend to work for a mafia without their permission? Konrad remembered the pit he had in his stomach the last time he had a big secret held back from Valda, which felt even worse. This time it wasn't his life in turmoil, it was hers, and it was his fault. All his fault.

"Uh, yeah, sure, you could cut them up if you want; I always over-slice," What did that even mean? Konrad motioned to the homemade jar of pickled beets on the counter before turning back to the pan. He scolded himself silently as the pan sizzled and rolled his eyes at his own words. He'd meant that he cut them too thin; his mother always reminded him that for Pyttipanna, the beets needed to be a bit chunky, just another thing he'd never hear again. Konrad sucked in a nervous breath, adding a bit too much seasoning to the pan, as Valda began gathering the items to set the table. When it was just Anders and Konrad, they rarely bothered to set the table. Half the time, they filled their plates from the pots still on the stove and ate quickly, leaning against the counter, with few words exchanged. Meals weren't the 'family affair' they used to be, but it was neither of the boy's fault's; it was just one of those things that happened over time.

Valda changed all of that, she'd set the table every night since she'd been home, and Konrad had made sure to eat with her at it. "Pyttipanna," Konrad repeated, "It's a good way to use up the leftovers from the week, got some ham in there, potatoes, onions, a bit of venison, and onions too," He shrugged before finally letting out an anxious chuckle, "Like I said, not real fancy, tastes good though," He said as he held a fork out to her and previewed one of the overseasoned diced potatoes with his own fork.

Quickly she got to work helping him with the beets. She had been here long enough to learn where the cutting board and kitchen knives were. When she opened the jar, the aroma was strong and made her eyes tear up, but she blinked, sniffled and shook her head to rid herself of the overwhelming smell. Carefully she breathed through her mouth so it didn't continue to bother her. It wasn't that they smelled bad, they were just potent. Valda laughed a little when he said he over-sliced them. Did he mean he cut them too small? She'd do what she felt was an appropriate amount slicing the beats first. "Pyttipanna," she repeated aloud to herself. She repeated the phrase multiple times to be sure she pronounced it correctly until it no longer sounded like a word.

"Do you want the beets diced or sliced?" Konrad always seemed to have work to be done so she was always eager to help. Big or small task, Valda didn't shy away from them. Once he instructed her on how to prepare them, she continued on her were careful cuts.

"It's a simple meal! Easy to do and quick to make once you have all of the ingredients prepared. I'll need this recipe if you don't mind." She moved quickly and efficiently with the knife as she chopped a few beats for him. "I've been trying to gather some recipes as I travel too. This would be a good one to add to my collection. Then, once I get my own place, once I find a place I can call my own, I'll never have to run out of ideas for meals."

Carefully, putting the knife aside as she looked over her shoulder at him, she frowned when she noticed how tense he seemed to be. There was something going on in that cautious mind of his. Lately, since he'd been pulled in to do the dirty work for the mafia, he was always overthinking something. He held the fork out to her and she quickly hid her frown behind a smile. How often did he do this too so she wouldn't have to worry about him? How could she not? "Thank you," She took the fork from him and blew gently to cool it off before she put it in her mouth. There was a little extra seasoning, but it wasn't enough to complain. "Ohhh! I can't wait to eat the rest of this. If you wanted to, you could add a few grams of butter. It'll make it savory."

The cutting boards with the cut beets was then brought over to the side of the stove so Konrad could do what he wanted with them. She leaned against the counter as she watched him. "Do you have another job coming up?" Her eyebrow raised as she picked up one of smaller chunks of the beets and plopped it into her mouth. "I haven't heard much about them since our trip to Canada."

"Sliced, please," Konrad responded cheerfully, turning from his project to face her before holding his hand up to demonstrate thickness, "But not too thin," He nodded and returned to the skillet. It was a simple meal indeed, but sometimes simple meals felt like the most Konrad could manage to put on the table. He beat himself up about it at night, when it was quiet, and the house was sleeping, wondering if he was doing enough, but even if he tried, the Swede knew he was never going to be a world-class chef. Managing to feed as many mouths as he was no small feat, and deep down, he knew that too; but the worry was always the louder voice.

"You're collecting recipes, you say?" He asked, an eyebrow-raising as an idea came to mind, and a smile came to his dimpled face. Wiping his hands on a dishtowel nearby, Konrad let the skillet simmer as he crossed the room and pulled his mother's old cookbook from the top shelf. "Maybe you can find some good things in here?" He offered, sitting on the island between them and smiling. Sharing these types of things with Valda, sharing anything really, was becoming increasingly easy. She was kind and trustworthy, and he knew she would take as good care of the book as she had the piano. He hoped she'd find a few she liked to copy when she had the time to pursue.

Brief moments of peace were often interrupted by the same nagging worries that kept him from getting a good night's sleep, and this evening was no different. As quickly as the smile came, it passed, replaced by a knot in his throat and a twist in his stomach. Konrad returned to the skillet; it was nearly done, and held out a bite for Valda to try. He'd seen her frown at him, and somewhere inside, the alarm was going off. Valda was incredibly intuitive, and he knew she could see right through him, simple smiles and all, he knew she was going to ask what was troubling him eventually, and Konrad also knew he would be honest with her.

But he wanted to bring it up first. Valda slid in to stand next to him as he took her suggestion for a bit of butter. It wasn't healthy, exactly, but there wasn't a soul in this house that couldn't use a few extra calories to ward off the winter chill of Northern Sweden. Konrad was mid-bite in his taste test when Valda brought up the men he'd been working for, and he coughed to clear his throat before turning to face her. Konrad had never been a liar, he wasn't deceptive, and he didn't have a deceitful bone in his body. When it came time to be honest, and authentic, the wizard was always the first in line, and this would be no different.

"Well, I was hoping we could talk about that, actually," Beginning was more comfortable than he thought, probably because Valda had given him the opening. Still, he was already feeling the anxiety start to fade. It was an awful situation, but it was always better, to be honest. Unclenching his jaw as he turned off the stove, Konrad moved across the kitchen. He laid out three plates and a dozen metal dog bowls on the empty counter and began divvying up the Pyttipanna. "The sliced beets are just for us; the dogs don't care for them," He mentioned over his shoulder and placed the skillet in the sink.

"It seems I may have gotten you mixed up with the group of wizards; they want you to come in next time I report." Konrad was facing her when he said it; his icy blue eyes fixed on hers as the intense guilt he felt began to flood them. "Val, I am so sorry,"