The Nisse Before Christmas

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Toki/Skwisgaar.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Toki seems to have brought more with him from Norway than just his guitar.
Notes: The second of my two Christmas fics. I am DREADFULLY sorry it’s so late. Special thanks to [info]teratomarty for unintentionally inspiring this when I read about the Nisse on his LJ. Apparently a Nisse is a type of small faery being that looks a great deal like a garden gnome. And according to the site he indicated, many Norwegians living in rural areas believe quite firmly in the existence of the Nisse. I thought Toki fit that description rather nicely.

More info about the Nisse

It was Christmas Eve, at least… it was December twenty-forth. At Mordhaus that meant very little when the five lords of the Manor were Nihilists and Atheists, and ‘Christmas’ was a dirty word. Still, they were not tyrants either, and roadies who broke the “no Christmas” rule were merely ignored. In fact the only Dethklok roadie to have actually been punished for breaking the rule was number 495, when he showed up on duty one evening pissed drunk, dressed as Santa with a piece of mistletoe dangling from his belt. He cornered Pickles and asked him if he had been naughty or nice, and said if he could find his magic candy cane he would let him have a lick.

495 was damned lucky that Nathan was on hand to stop Pickles from finding a new place to store his empty vodka bottles.

Still, Christmas was hardly forbidden from happening at Mordhaus, it just wasn’t Dethklok’s favourite holiday. Not one of them could recall a truly joyful Christmas, and indeed some Christmas movies sent Skwisgaar into rages so intense he would often have to be sedated before he either had an aneurism or a heart attack. Most notably it was movies that featured a neglected child whose mother/father/guardian suddenly was filled with Christmas spirit and gave up their evil ways to spend more time with their abandoned child.

Nathan suspected Skwisgaar had once placed a huge amount of hope in those movies, waiting for his mother to pay attention to him. All to no avail.

Currently the atmosphere in the house was one of domestic bliss. Outside the snow fell as night crept over their valley. Pickles and Murderface were playing Dirty Word Scrabble, and Skwisgaar was playing guitar, his long golden hair falling over his face. Nathan was flat on his back on the couch, dozing. Settled comfortably beside him, almost lost in the space between Nathan’s huge form and the back of the sofa, was Charles, the only indication of his presence being a lone arm emerging like an alien tendril to rest over Nathan’s chest. Moments later the family was made complete with the arrival of Toki. He was carrying a bowl containing a small amount of porridge topped with a little butter and cream. Skwisgaar paused in his playing to watch Toki carefully place the bowl on a low shelf in a far corner of the room.

“And what is dats being fors?” inquired Skwisgaar.

“Is fors da Nisse,” said Toki.

Skwisgaar seemed to consider that, then lowered his head and resumed playing. “Be sures to puts a bowl bys da big old tree in da yard.”

“I already dids.”

Skwisgaar nodded, and that was the end of the conversation. By now Pickles, Murderface, and Nathan had their full attention on the pair of Scandinavians. Charles would have been paying heed as well had he been awake.

“You’re leaving out food for the what?” asked Nathan.

“Fors da Nisse,” said Toki, as if that should explain everything.

“And… what exactly is a Nisse?” asked Murderface.

Skwisgaar answered, head down, trying to figure out what he didn’t like about the guitar line he was working on. “Is type of smalls faery, is lives on farm, brings goods luck, helps looks afters da animals, t’ings likes dat. Toki’s Nisse follow him when he lefts Norway.”

Nathan, Pickles and Murderface were gob-smacked to say the very least. It was well over a minute before Pickles could get a word out. He looked to Skwisgaar.

“So… did yours follow you from Stockholm?” Pickles inquired politely.

“Don’ts be dildos,” said Skwisgaar. “Everyone is knowings Nisse don’ts lives in da city.”

“Well I did,” said Murderface airily. Pickles elbowed him.

“Okay now let me get this straight,” said Nathan. “There’s this little Norwegian farm fairy, and it eats porridge, and one followed Toki from Norway and now lives in our hall. Am I getting that?”

Toki and Skwisgaar nodded. Clearly they did not find this a crazy concept in the least.

“And… you’re okay with that.”

Again they nodded.

“You realize how totally retarded you sound right now.”

“What?” said Skwisgaar. “Dey’s real.”

“Ja!” said Toki, bolstered by Skwisgaar’s support. “Pickle say he gots chased by Pigsfoot ins da woods once…”

“That’s different!” said Nathan. “Those are real. And it’s ‘Bigfoot’ not ‘Pigfoot’.”

“So why cans Bigsfoot be real an’ Nisse nots real?” said Toki hotly.

“Because large hairy smelly things exist,” said Nathan. “Fairies don’t.”

“Den how is you explainings da lakes troll, hah?” said Skwisgaar. “T’inks about it.”

“Trollsh aren’t fairiesh, any idiot knowsh that!” said Murderface.

“Trolls is too a fairy!” said Toki.

“They are not!” said Murderface.

“Dood actually they are,” said Pickles. “All creatures like that are part of the Fae realm, which technically makes them a fairy. The things we think of as fairies like Tinkerbelle don’t exist, they were made up by the Victorians. And you should never call a fairy “fairy” anyway because it pisses them off.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at Pickles. Somewhere a cricket chirped.

“What?” said Pickles. “I’m Irish, we know this shit.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Nathan. “Are Murderface and I the only two sane people here?” He seemed to consider his words. “Brutal.” He looked down at the dozing ball of grey silk beside him on the couch, then nudged him awake. “You don’t believe in fairies, do you Charles?”

Charles considered the question, blinking sleepily. “Well, Nathan, as a lawyer I have to take into consideration the presence of evidence. That Finnish lake troll was… pretty conclusive evidence.”

“But other than the troll,” said Nathan.

“Well it doesn’t make sense that the troll would be the only one of its kind.” Charles slowly sat up, rumpled and bleary, only one eye open, his hair at all angles. Any further arguments he may have had in favour of the existence of fairies was cut short as Nathan gave into his baser urges and pounced on him, unable to resist the cuteness.

“That’sh… totally not helping our shide of the argument,” said Murderface.

“Tough,” growled Nathan.

“Dood why are we arguing about this?” said Pickles. “We’ve got security cameras all over the place, all we have to do is train a few onto the places where Toki left the porridge and see what comes out and eats it.”

“Den you is see!” said Toki.

They set up the cameras, then made their way to bed, Nathan with Charles slung over one shoulder. Silence settled over the snow-bound keep. Soon Toki was settled deep in the covers, Skwisgaar’s lean form wrapped around him. Charles was lost in the middle of Nathan’s huge bed, Nathan’s head in the small of his back. Pickles was face down in his own bed, the covers kicked off, and Murderface was a ball of hairy farting flannel, snoring away. Christmas Eve wandered silently to its end, and the only creatures stirring in the house were the two most senior roadies, Simon and Badger. Currently they were eating popcorn while staring at a monitor.

“Gee I’m sooo glad I got to blow off Christmas dinner with my boyfriend to sit in a small room with you and watch for little Scandinavian fairies,” said Simon, his tone dripping sarcasm.

Badger flipped on a monitor, showing Toki and Skwisgaar’s room. “There, now you can watch big Scandinavian fairies. Don’t you feel better?”

“Awww… they’re so cute when they’re asleep,” said Simon.

“It does dull that urge to bitch-slap them, doesn’t it?” said Badger.

Simon laughed. “Yeah.” He sighed with parental fondness. “They’re good boys. I mean yeah they’re stupid and most of them are kinda ugly and they’ve all got the personality of a retarded pitbull but… there’s that moment when they look at you and… you can hear the distant sound of the rusty gears grinding, and finally the single-watt bulb goes on, and you know that they finally understand that shoving your finger into an electrical outlet in an attempt to dry off quicker is probably not such a good idea that… you know there really is some hope for those relatives in your life that you would just rather not talk about.”

Badger was chuckling quietly as he ate his popcorn. “Ah they’re good kids, even if they are a little thick. So what are we looking for, anyway? What does a Nisse look like, assuming one actually runs by the camera.”

“That’s a very good question,” said Simon. “Lucky for you I had my charming, intelligent and lovely boyfriend...”

“You mean the scrawny nerdlet with the staticy hair of doom who looks like he should still be in high school when in fact he just turned twenty-two?”

“That would be him, and you’re just jealous.” Simon pulled out a book on Scandinavian folklore and opened it. “He found me a book in the library. I marked the page.” Simon showed Badger a picture in the book, indicating a little being. “That is a Nisse.”

“That’s not a Nisse! It’s a fucking Underpants Gnome!”

Simon rolled his eyes. “It is not an Underpants Gnome!”

“It is! No wonder Skwisgaar doesn’t wear underwear, these little bastards are stealing them all!”

“He doesn’t wear them because he doesn’t like them.”

Badger was outraged. “I can’t believe I blew off a night with my sister and her kids to spend Christmas Eve on a fucking Underpants Gnome hunt! I could be drinking mulled wine with a baby puking yams on my shirt and a cat on my feet.”

“Boy Badger you really know how to party,” said Simon.

“I like my sister. I even like her husband. You and your nerdlet should come with me some time. You would…” Badger paused as Simon suddenly sat forward, eyes fixed on the monitor. “What is it?”

Simon pointed to the monitor. Badger looked in the direction he indicated, and gaped in surprise.

“The porridge is gone!”

“I know!”

“But it was there just a moment ago!”

“I know!”

“Well check the bowl by the tree!”

They did. It too was empty.

“Rewind the tapes!” said Badger.

Simon did. Together the pair studied the footage, watching it over and over, slowing the tape to move at frame by frame. They saw nothing. One moment the bowl was half-filled with porridge, the next moment it was empty. Badger and Simon stared in utter astonishment.

“Okay,” said Badger. “Now I’m scared. Look. In this frame, porridge. In the next, nothing. What moves that fast? Not a rat, not a cat.”

“It may not have had to move fast at all,” said Simon. “Fairy creatures live in their own realm. The Nisse could have simply taken the porridge to his realm, eaten it, and put the bowl back.”

The two stared at the empty bowl. After a little while, Simon switched cameras to check on Toki and Skwisgaar once more. They were clearly asleep, settled together, Skwisgaar’s arm around Toki. They had not moved a muscle since the last time they were checked on, but something in the room was different. Finally Simon noticed what.

“Look on the pillow beside Toki. That’s a scarf.”

“I see it. The designs on it look Norwegian,” said Badger. “That… that was not there! That scarf was not on his pillow when we last looked in on them!”

Simon and Badger exchanged glances, reading the same emotions in each other’s eyes. After a while Badger coughed.

“Well I… guess we can go now. I still have time to get to my sister’s before the kids are opening their presents.”

“Yeah,” said Simon. “Yeah I’d like to get home and have dinner.”

They put the tapes on a shelf, then Badger stood up. A sudden look of surprise crossed his face.

“What is it?” asked Simon.

Badger blinked, still looking shocked. “My damned underpants are gone!”