#lussinatten

He considered the word. “Lussinatten?” It rolled comfortably off the tongue. “I…don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before. Some kind of Arendellian holiday?”

Her mouth popped open. “You don’t know what Lussinatten is?” She clucked her tongue and grabbed his arm. “No wonder you’ve been so unlucky in the past! Well, all of that’s going to change!” She glanced back at the crimson cloth. “Hopefully Lussi hasn’t noticed you yet.”

“Wait…what? Who’s that?”

She sighed and took both his shoulders in her hands, then stared into his eyes. “She’s a feared enchantress who punishes anyone who dares work today. December 13th is her night – the longest night of the year.”

Hans rolled his eyes. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Of course I do!” She pouted at him. “Lussinatten is serious business, Hans! From now until Christmas, spirits, gnomes, and trolls are free to roam anywhere they choose. And farm animals can even talk to each other on Lussinatten.”

Hans snorted. “Really.”

Anna nodded in complete seriousness. “We always give the animals extra feed tonight, to make sure they speak well of us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that considered work, then?”

“No!” Anna shook her head vigorously. Then she tilted to head to the side, considering this new idea. “At least, I don’t think it’s working. I mean, the animals still have to eat, don't they?”

“All right.” He smiled indulgently at her. “You go give the animals their extra rations, and I’ll finish your gift.” He gave her a quick wink. “Say hi to Sitron for me.”

“No, Hans!” She yanked at his arm again. “You have to stop all work, immediately.”

“But Anna,” he said, stepping back from her grip. “If I don’t finish it today, I can’t give it to you tomorrow. This not working today thing is daft. Surely you can see that. It’s just superstition.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not. And you can just…you can finish your gift for me in the morning.”

His lips parted in shock. “What, work on the Sabbath? I can’t do that.”

A grin flitted across her tiny mouth. “Oh, so you can’t work tomorrow, but you think you can work today. I see.”

“Totally different.” Hans crossed his arms and gazed down at her. “My reluctance to work is based on faith in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Yours is founded on the heretical belief in a wicked witch.”

“I would think,” Anna sniffed, “that after all this time spent in my country, you would have come to your senses about the supernatural.”

He held up his hands in defense. “All right, all right. I’ll give you the singing and dancing trolls. And the sister who controls ice and snow.”

“And talking snowmen.”

“And talking snowmen.” Hans nodded. “But I can’t believe in some crazy lady who punishes people who work. That’s ludicrous, Anna.”

“Fine!” Anna stomped her tiny foot on the glossy wooden floor. “Suit yourself! But I, for one, am going to respect Lussi! No matter what you say!” She turned on her heel and almost slipped on the lacquered wood, before righting herself with a huff and marching out the door.

Hans couldn’t help grinning as he watched her go. He turned back to his work with a smile on his face. He’d been working on the careful carving of a rowboat for the entire week. He hoped to remind Anna of the first time they’d met.

Last week, for the first Sunday in Advent, he’d given her a diamond and sapphire encrusted tiara. She’d been appreciative, of course…but somehow he knew she’d be completely enraptured by the tiny boat. At least…he hoped so.

Maybe he should wait and just finish tomorrow. Surely God would understand. If he kept at it today, Anna might turn her nose up at the little boat, since he worked on it during this foolish excuse for a holiday.

But he was almost done…

“Animals! Yoohoo!” Anna’s voice drifted in through the cracked-open window.

He stood and looked down through the frosty pane at her. She was bundled up in her cranberry-colored wool cloak, throwing handfuls of grain to a flock of appreciative hens. His fingers touched the cold glass as he watched her.

She laughed as a brave red hen flew up and handed on her shoulder. What on earth was he doing up here all alone, while she was so beautiful and vibrant down in the snow-crusted courtyard? He should join her. Throw caution to the wind, like she tended to do, and not worry about tomorrow. Sitron would certainly enjoy an extra ration of feed tonight. And who knows? Maybe the horse would finally speak back to him.

But the rowboat. Hans couldn’t stand the idea of not having a special gift for Anna for the second Sunday of Advent. He knew she woudn’t care – that she’d laugh and hug him and probably say that he was the best gift of all – but a nagging feeling of doubt tugged at him. If he didn’t give her the perfect holiday season – if he didn’t fulfill her every wish of true love with a storybook prince – would she still accept him? Wouldn’t she tire of him, and move on to someone better?

His family had never appreciated his gifts at the holidays – not the clumsy projects of his youth or the expensive offerings later on. Either they didn’t want what he gave, or they already had it. But Anna…so far he still had her admiration.

He didn’t want to chance losing it.

He sat down at the table and pushed back the crimson cloth. The boat was almost complete. Another hour or so, and it would be ready for Anna. He’d painstakingly carved it with a dozen assorted knives. Now he picked up the tiny paintbrush and began to recreate the design on the hull.

He’d finish soon, let it dry overnight, and give it to Anna on the morrow.

--

Two hours later, Hans was still hard at work. The fine detail brush in his hand held the smallest bit of paint, and he peered carefully through his thin wire framed glasses as he touched the bristles to the side of the rowboat. Darkness had settled over the parlor. Even though he had the wick on the lantern as high as it could safely go, he still was having a hard time focusing on his task.

He sighed and sat back in the wooden chair. Maybe he should just wait until tomorrow.

But then it would still be wet when he gave it to Anna. That wouldn’t do. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose and squinted at the boat.

Suddenly the door flew open. Startled, Hans looked up.

A dark, shrouded figure, dressed in a long, forest green cloak, crept into the room. Hans jumped to his feet. “Identify yourself!”

The person ignored his demands. “Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, you dare to work on my sacred night?”

Hans had to stifle a laugh. It was Anna.

He hastily stood a book on end, to try to hide the rowboat from her. Then he folded his glasses and cleared his throat. “Why, you’re not Lussi, enchantress and ruler of Lussinatten, are you?”

“The one and the same,” she hissed. “And you, fair prince, have dared to work on this night, even though your beautiful, smart, delightful fiancée warned you not to.”

“Don’t forget humble.” Hans grinned.

“What?” the figure asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. You’re right. I just…I have to beg your forgiveness, oh great one. I’m a stranger to this land, and I only wanted to finish my beautiful bride-to-be’s gift before the second day of Advent tomorrow. If I had only known this was your night ahead of time, I certainly would have adhered to its restrictions.”

“It makes no difference!”

“But you must understand the power love can hold over a man’s heart.” He stepped toward the dark figure. She was almost at arms-reach now. A few more inches, and he’d slip back the hood of the cloak and press his lips into hers. She’d love it.

Probably.

She stamped her foot in a very Anna-like fashion. “You have worked on Lussinatten, and you must be punished!”

Well, that certainly sounded intriguing. Hans stopped and cocked his head to the side. “And what kind of punishment would that be?” He lowered his voice to a purr, knowing full well how desirable he could make it sound. “I throw myself completely at your mercy.”

“Well…um…perhaps I could forgive you…just this once. If you stop now.”

He sighed. “But I haven’t finished the gift. I guess I’ll just have to take the punishment.”

She was silent for a moment. Then the hood tilted up toward him. He could see her chin now, and her sweet pink lips. “It…it’s going to be really bad.”

He grinned a seductive sneer of a smile as he took that last step toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I like bad things.”

“You…wait. Hans!” She batted her hands at him as the hood fell back. “You knew it was me!”

“I did.” He leaned forward and kissed her on her tiny button nose. “I just couldn’t imagine that the great enchantress Lussi would bother with a poor man who only wants to please his one true love.”

“You don’t have to give me anything to please me,” she murmured. “I’m happy just being with you.”

“You win anyway,” he said. “It’s too dark to finish. I’ll just have to do it in the morning before Mass, then give it to you tomorrow night.”

“Work on Sunday?” she teased.

He smiled. “I’m sure God will understand true love, even if Lussi doesn’t.”

She grasped his hands in hers. “Good. Come on, then!”

He chuckled as she tugged him out the door. “Where are we going?”

“To the stable. I didn’t give Sitron his extra portion yet – I wanted to wait until you were there, in case he decided to tell us something!” Her eyes lit up with excitement at the idea.

“As long as he doesn’t tell what I’m giving you tomorrow.” Hans’ forehead creased for a moment, but his eyes were twinkling. “He knows, of course. But surely he’ll keep my secret.”

“Maybe not if I get there first!” Anna took off, running down the candlelit hallway. Hans stared for a moment, then rushed to catch up.

Their laughter echoed off the walls behind them as they raced, happily content, through the quiet castle and out into the frosty courtyard.

A light snow had begun to fall, and Hans grabbed her hand, spinning her around so he could see her joyful face. He pulled her closer, then pressed his lips against hers. “I love you,” he whispered in the darkness.

“Oh, Hans. I love you too.”

 “Happy Lussinatten.”

She frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a really appropriate greeting, Hans. It’s not really a holiday – it’s more like a—“

He kissed her again. This time they stayed in place, lips warm and pressed together, as the snow continued to dust their shoulders and hair.

She sighed as they broke their embrace, then rested her head against his chest. “Mmm. Happy Lussinatten to you, too.”

--