The next morning everything seemed to be slower. He stood up at his usual hour which had left him with 3 hours of sleep and a double espresso instead of his usual morning coffee. Even Hákon took a deep swig of coffee before he left with him for the stables.
Søren had been stumbling into the kitchen without his pants and his hoodie turned inside out. He joined them a bit later.
At least they had cleaned up everything from the party before they went to bed so they could directly head for a ready-made breakfast. They ate alone, as most of the guests rather opted for the latest possibility to take their meal.
And thus, the day continued as it usually did. Training, catching a glance at Sigurd's bottoms, cleaning the stables and making eye contact with Søren, cleaning the pastures and standing still to admire each other moving on top of his horse in gallop, walking close side by side when they returned to the ice palace to eat. The following days went similar, although with less horrid dark circles under their eyes.
Hákon, Berwald and Tino watched in silent frustration. There just never seemed to be a romantic enough situation for both of them to finally confess. No matter how much Berwald, Tino and Hákon tried to give them space, lighting candles seemingly at random, taking over chores, so Søren and Sigurd could relax with each other.
At least that would have been the plan, if Sigurd wouldn't just use that time for tasks he usually never had time for and Søren to instead talk and write with his friends and family. To see them only sending glances, brushing hands and shoulders, smiles and sighs was barely acceptable.
That was until they were packing for a special riding tour, to marvel at the winter wonderland and hopefully catch a glimpse at the northern lights if their luck was generous enough. The trip would last three days, the customers were as international as it could get and had varying experience with horses.
Sigurd was already done with the people on their trip when they finally entered the forest after a minute of riding. Søren was the last man, chatting with a young woman with a heavy Russian accent and red hair down to her lower back. An American couple tried to make small talk with a Swiss family who already looked uncomfortable and Sigurd was glad that he could at least save their little girl from the flood of questions and stories.
She was a cute but very shy eight-year old with pouty lips and brown fringes, covering her eye brows. He had at his side a rope to secure her horse to his in case she got frightened and lost control of it. But the Icelandic she rode was such a gentle soul who had never bucked a rider off in his life, that Sigurd deemed it safe enough to let her gain confidence by riding on her own.
Right behind him rode the English twin boys. And after them was their father and a pudgy German woman.
Soon enough they could start trotting and finally all of the talking faded out, as the crisp wind blew past the rider's faces, the stomping of the hooves filled the ears, the warm bodies of the horses moving beneath them filled the minds with a sort of concentration and occupation, that the attention was drawn to the nature instead to another person. Or the world and its problems and one's own worries. Everything cleared.
The trees passed them, the moss in between the snow was a blur and the cold in some of the rider's toes was a pain worth to endure for the beauty of the moment. Snow fell from the trees, some single snowflakes even made it down to earth directly from the sky. Squirrels climbed pine trees, the tiny streams filled the silence with soft music, adding to the drums of the horses.
All went well, until the twins got bored. They had already had a short lunch break at a small public cabin for fishermen where there also was a privy.
"Listen, everybody!" Sigurd raised his voice, when everyone was done eating. "We'll have another three hours before we arrive at the cabin." Sigurd's eyes shot to the twins who had rolled their eyes. "Sunset is just a bit before we arrive, so when it is dark I advise you to trust your horses as they see more than you. Don't disturb them too much, let them find the path. A hot meal and a preheated cabin awaits us at our arrival."
He received smiles, some motivated comments and a bad joke. But the twins were only groaning. Why were they even here?
Sigurd was tense throughout the next two hours. When he had seen them for the first time he knew immediately, that they were troublemakers.
Even their names, Fred and George couldn't have been a coincidence. At least their father had been having a constant eye on them. But now? That German lady must have been really distracting as he could only hear their flirting, instead of telling the boys to not whisper like that and conjuring up some evil master plan.
But when the sky cleared and offered them a beautiful sun set of oranges, golds and reds on top of the hill, Sigurd let himself be distracted. The horses were walking down hill again on a narrow path, one after another, when it happened.
Sigurd heard a horse shriek and the unmistakable sound of one bucking and bolting. He halted his horse and turned around. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the horse of one of the twins racing towards him and the little girl. The boy, Fred?, didn't even try to stop it.
The eyes of the horse were wild, the head held high and it was too late. The boy only laughed as he crashed into the little girl's horse. Sigurd just wanted to thank the gods, that he had put her on such a gentle one who would only stomp nervously, when the other twin produced another pebble out of his pocket.
"George?!" The father managed to yell, before the jagged stone left the boy's hand. The girl was already clutching onto the reins and crying, when the stone hit the croup of her horse.
George had a killer aim. Even Sigurd's horse would have bolted away, if he hadn't soothed it immediately down and checked it in with his seat and reins. But the little girl had no chance.
Her horse bolted off through the undergrowth of the forest. Fred laughed and as his horse wanted to follow the girl he didn't stop it. All of the other horses stood still in anxious tension or being held back by their more experienced riders. The whole group was hushing and talking softly, petting the horses and looking confused to the head of the group.
"What's happening?"
"Everyone okay?"
"Shhhh…"
"Sigurd?!" Søren called from way back.
"George!" The poor father looked shocked, with gaping mouth and horrified eyes switching between him and the bushes behind which the girl and Fred had disappeared.
Sigurd's nostrils flared, his eyes managed to shut down the boy's laughter with one cold strike and the father urged his horse forward, shielding George from Sigurd's wrath. For a moment it looked like Sigurd would slap the boy, with his arms tense and his eye twitching.
"Sigurd what happened?" Søren called and his horse carefully made it past the other horses through the snow aside the path in order to group up with Sigurd.
The man in question blinked and missed how both the father and his son relaxed, when he turned his gaze to Søren instead. He gulped down all of his anger and fury to release it later, when he saw that even Søren looked worried now. He could take care of those feelings when less people watched and no one was in way of harm.
"Lovn and Balder bolted away because a certain kid thought it would be funny to throw stones at them."
"What?!" Søren looked disbelieving at the only kid in their small circle. George hid his face in his red scarf, playing with the mane of his Norwegian horse, Hod.
"We need to find them before night fall."
"That's now."
"I know," Sigurd bit back. "That's why we'll need to split up and get our guests to the cabin."
"Wait! We need to help!" A high-pitched voice came from the mother of the girl.
"Yeah, we're a search party!" the American guy joined in.
"No." Sigurd glared at his guests. "It is getting dark. You don't know the horses, the terrain, the forest. You have no lights to guide you."
"You shouldn't look for them alone though," the American said.
"That's why I am going to join him," Søren smiled.
"And how are we going to find the cabin?" the father asked, but Søren was faster.
"I'll call Berwald. He can run to meet you. It's just down this path. No chance to get lost."
He bit one finger of his glove, slid his hand out of it and already dialed his number. The reception was awful but he was quite sure, that Berwald got the message. He and Sigurd moved off the path and slowly the procession, led by George and his father, made their way downhill. Without wasting a minute, Sigurd led his horse cross country.
"Let's go. The horses fled into the direction of home. If we're lucky they have calmed down by now, seeing that the herd didn't follow."
"Let's hope you're right," Søren sighed and followed.
True to Sigrud's words, the forest got dark, really fast. The shadows elongated and merged together. The owls were awake and other animals, Søren would have loved not to meet eye to eye.
"Fred! Hannah!" he was calling into the silence.
"Lovn! Balder!" Sigurd was calling for the horses.
And indeed, suddenly something stepped on a twig, they could hear someone sobbing and sniffling and there they crossed path with a Fjord horse and its frightened rider. Balder was relaxed and had its ears peaking forward, as if expecting a treat for having returned to its owner.
"Oh, thank god, you're still sitting on him." Sigurd jumped off his horse and marched to the boy. "You're alright, you're with us." He laid his hand on the trembling ones, still holding onto the reins.
Fred nodded, tears streaming over his cheeks. "I'm s-so sorry."
"I'll give you a lecture when we're out of the cold," Sigurd sighed and made a quick round around the horse to see if it was hurt somewhere.
"Have you seen the little girl?" Søren asked and looked around, hoping to see the other horse emerge as well.
"She was ahead… Heard her screaming." Fred averted his eyes.
"So she at least made it until here still on horseback," Sigurd concluded and returned to his mount.
"She can't be far," Søren said and looked on the screen of his phone. "But if we can't find her soon we'll have to call the police."
"Agreed," Sigurd said, tension heavy in his voice. "It is going to be a cold night too." He looked around, checking on any land marks. "We also have to look out to not get lost ourselves."
"Not a bad idea," Søren mused.
"Not far from here is a lake. With some luck that might have stopped Lovn. The horses should be thirsty after the long ride. If we won't find her there, we'll call."
"Sounds like a plan," Søren said and nudged his horse forward, and together they thrust through the darkness.
Søren didn't know how Sigurd managed to navigate through the forest, almost blind. It was a clear night, but the moon could only provide so much light, that he could make out the trees around him. They were like black figures, crowding around them, reaching for him with their long black fingers. Did he imagine the whisper hushing from tree to tree? And that howl? Were there wolves on a hunt tonight? He was glad he could trust his horse to find the right path. He was even more glad having Sigurd in front of him.
Suddenly Sigurd looked up and the horses turned their heads towards a sound. A sound, they had heard before already. Someone was crying in the distance.
"Hannah?" Sigurd called. More distant wailing was the answer.
"Oh thank the gods," Søren sighed and couldn't hide a smile of relief.
Now that they had a auditive path to find Hannah it was a matter of minutes to find her.
What they found was less great. She was lying in the snow near the lake, shivering, crying and clutching her leg.
Sigurd jumped off his horse and ran towards her.
"Hannah!"
She immediately looked up and began babbling in German. Søren understood enough to know that she was scared and that her leg hurt like hell.
Søren slid off his horse and took hold of the reins of Sigurd's one. Slowly he approached the two on the ground.
"Es wird alles gut," Sigurd said in the softest tone, which was usually only reserved for family and horses. He had managed to calm her down enough, that she let him check on her foot.
Carefully he removed her boot, seemingly in slow motion. He sucked the air in between his teeth when he more felt than saw how swollen the ankle was. Quickly he slid off his gloves and palpated her ankle with the tips of his fingers.
"Nicht gebrochen." He managed a weak smile and handed her a handful of snow. "Aufs Bein. Ich rede mit Søren." Hannah followed his instructions, whimpering.
Sigurd slowly stood up again and was face to face with a flabbergasted Søren.
"You can speak German!"
Sigurd rolled his eyes. "You knew that already and it is not our priority. We won't make it back to the others with her leg as long as it is as dark as now. Riding is going to hurt like hell. The horses are tired too and might trip on these narrow paths."
"What do we do then? We can't just stay here?!"
Sigurd pointed with his index finger towards the lake. "There is a public cabin with blankets, a fire place and with a bit of luck some left over wood from the end of season."
"Do you have the keys?"
"There's nothing valuable in it so it's without a lock."
"What do we do with Hannah? If she can't ride then…"
"I'll carry her."
Søren puffed his cheeks and looked at the man in front of him. He loved him for being so resourceful. And he hated him for playing the hero and leaving him this useless.
"If it takes too long to get there, you'll let me carry her too."
Sigurd nodded courtly. "Call Berwald please. The parents need to know asap."
The way to the cabin was short, but it took a much longer time than any of the group would have wished for. Sigurd carried Hannah on his back, paying attention to not touch her foot or make any sudden movements. Søren was back on horseback so he could talk on his phone and hold the reins of Sigurd's horse at the same time. Not that it would suddenly run away, but Søren just wanted to be sure not to have any more search parties that night.
The parents were both relieved to hear that the children were found, worried about Hannah's condition and anxious, that they'd have to stay in a cabin away from them. But Søren promised to let the children talk with them before they'd go to sleep. After another ten minutes of walking they found Lovn at the border of the lake, watching them slowly approaching, as if to say "Where have you been?! I was waiting for hours."
The cabin was only fifty metres away from her. With a low groan Sigurd slowly set Hannah down on the bench outside the small cottage. He opened the door and quickly checked the inventory before ordering Søren to take care of the horses.
Søren did as ordered and took off the saddles and bridles which he placed against the wall of the small cottage. The horses immediately went to the lake to drink and went off to look for something to eat under the snow. Søren trusted they wouldn't run away too far during the night and entered their new sleeping place with the saddle bags in his arms.
It was not much more than four wooden walls, a roof and a chimney with metal bars to place pans and pots. Beside the chimney was a row of benches, which contained wooden boxes and in front of them was a narrow table. At the other two walls were three small beds with barely existing mattresses. On one was Fred, curled up in a blanket and making himself as small as possible. Hannah sat on the second one, watching Sigurd who blew into the small fire he created in the fire place. Content with how the red flames licked on the old wood he stood up again.
"Ah, good you brought the bags," he said. "I have a first aid kit in mine."
It didn't take long and it was almost cosy inside. The fire was still burning, they had shared the little food they still had from lunch. Sigurd even found some left over tea from the previous visitors and they cooked it up with an old pot. Hannah and Fred had been able to talk to their parents and were already much calmer.
Hannah was soon asleep with the pain killers making her sleepy, her foot resting elevated on a folded jacket and bandaged. Fred too was asleep. Causing so much havoc with his brother and then feeling the immediate consequences had apparently drained him. Søren watched over them before he refilled his and Sigurd's cup with the remaining tea.
The night was cold indeed, yet beautiful. The snow glittered in the pale moon light. It hasn't been cold enough for the lake to freeze completely and a crisp breeze let the water curl and shine. The horses were resting not too far away. But the most beautiful thing was Sigurd sitting on the bench, watching the large animals with a thoughtful expression.
His hair glowed silver in the pale light and his expression was almost serene, all the worry and anxiety behind the stone face seemed to have fallen off him. He only looked up, when Søren raised the cup in front of his face.
"Thank you." Sigurd carefully took the tea, but didn't drink from it yet.
"No problem. You had an exhausting day after all."
"You too."
Søren stood still. It was much too cold to sit. Unless Sigurd would allow him to sit shoulder to shoulder, letting him lean on his strong figure and wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Hm." Søren clasped the cup with both of his hands, enjoying the warmth on his naked fingers. "How did you learn German?" he asked again after a minute of comfortable silence. "In all my years that I have lived in the Netherlands and I can barely order a meal, and here you are talking perfect German."
"I had it in school and Alexander spoke it with me." Sigurd didn't meet his eyes but instead was again studying his horses.
"Oh."
"A reason why I have a lot of German speaking guests. So that's something I get out of it."
"Yeah." Søren bit his cheek. He would much rather kick himself. Of course, Sigurd would have learned German from his German ex-boyfriend. And he did hear Sigurd talk German before, right? How could he have been so stupid? He took a sip of his bitter tea.
"How's Laura? Edvard doesn't tell much about her lately."
Søren almost choked on his tea but when he saw the mischief on Sigurd's face he had to smile. "You ass!"
Sigurd chuckled and with a smirk he explained: "Payback for your thoughtlessness." Søren sighed theatrically and offered Sigurd his hand, for an apology. "I am sorry. Please accept?" For effect he put on his best puppy eyes. Sigurd laughed and even if it was short, and small and technically more of a chuckle, it was as if the gates to the heavens had opened. Sigurd accepted and pulled himself up to stand at Søren's side.
"You're an idiot," he said, smiling still. He must be tired, exhausted, done with people and the world. But here he was, smiling at him, bantering and being full of life, offering something he only did with the people close to him. Søren couldn't help but look at this man. At the crinkles around his eyes, the dimples that showed much too rarely, the gleam in his eyes that would make Loki proud.
"You're amazing," he breathed.
"What?" Sigurd tilted his head ever so slightly.
"I said you-" But Sigurd's hand interrupted him as it grabbed his arm. With the other hand which was still holding his cup he pointed towards the sky.
"The night is dancing for us."
Søren turned around and there it was. The Aurora Borealis, flashing in greens and blues over their heads. Søren was transfixed and watched the spectacle. He barely noticed, how Sigurd took his cup from his hands and placed them on the bench. It was years, if not two decades since the last time he had seen the Northern lights. Tonight, they were not the strongest, not the broadest or the most colourful. But Søren didn't care.
If he didn't take this as a sign, he would have been an idiot. He turned around to Sigurd, who was already looking at him with those dark eyes. Did he have the same green light shimmering in his eyes? It didn't take a word for the other to step closer.
Søren noticed his lashes, his high cheek bones, he noticed the lips which he had only dared to touch in his dreams. Those lightly parted lips. He almost didn't dare lifting his hand to cup Sigurd's cheek, brushing his hair to the side. Almost. He felt an arm wrapping around his waist, a hand resting on his back. They were so close. He felt their shared warmth. Their shared breath. He closed his eyes.
Sigurd's lips were chapped but oh so kissable. He loved the feel of roughness that were his lips but the moment of sweetness they conveyed. He loved how they melted into each other, how close he was to the man he fell in love with so slowly he couldn't say when he started to. He loved how they both still lingered in the delight of the kiss, barely even parting and just enjoying the moment. Having the other finally in their arms.
"I love you," Søren whispered and his smile melted into the second kiss they shared. A bit more passionate, a bit deeper, a bit closer.
