23/12- Warmth- Fiery Night

Fantasy

I take my sword from where it leans against the wall before leaving the longhouse where I live. It's Jól again, meaning fires to light up and hearts to warm!

Well, the lighting fires will be the easy part. Being a fire incarnate is not the best for your joyful attitude.

Gary is outside my door, and he greets me with a grin. "Good day, Fire Lord."

With my hand, I push against his chest playfully. "Good Day, Pathetic Servant."

"How mean." He mocks with a pout.

"How annoying." I give him a grin.

"You ready to have your magic used and abused?"

"It should be easier this year, right? Since I've done it before."

"Ha, ha, ha. Oh, you don't know anything! My father said more have heard of your power, and now they're all waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Yes! My father can't keep up with the list of houses, and they have to wait in a queue."

I see it as soon as we turn the corner: hundreds of people waiting in a line, Gary's dad with so many scrolls. Gary and I approach him, but I duck behind him, trying not to be seen by too many people. But bright red hair doesn't help with being incognito, and people try to pull me, so they can 'have me'. Honestly, they get my generosity, but they need it sooner, because they're too impatient.

You know what? It's fine. They like me, and appreciate me. And the more I use my magic, the less damage I do in general. But! They'll have to wait their turn.

"Greetings, Seiðmaðr. Greetings, Völva." I add as Gary's mother walks out and exclaims that this is 'quite a queue.'

Apparently, people had been writing their names for days, because by the time night falls on Jól -- the winter solstice -- I'm provided with about a thousand houses to visit. Hurrah!

I'm going to be up all night.

Gary passes me wood, a poker and water. He then takes it back and holds it proudly. "Here to help."

"Thanks." I roll my eyes.

The first house has three seperate fireplaces, each of which I light with a flick of my wrist, or a snap of my fingers. Don't know why I needed a poker, since I can move the fire independantly, but at least the iron rod is there to slam into an annoying customer. Just kidding! It's fun to swing around and use to walk from one house to another.

The tenth house is where I start to get bored. At least Gary gets to check the list and see who's the closest, so we don't waste any time. But all I get to do is make fire!

Don't get me wrong, I love fires! So bright and warm and dangerous! But contained fires aren't my favourite.

At house 30-something is where I start blowing the fires to life, and creating images in the flames.

"It's the first day of Jól, and instead of celebrating, drinking and dancing, I'm here making little fires for stupid people. This is what Surtur deserves?" "You're doing a good thing." Gary comforts poorly. "These people would be cold at winter, if not for your fire."

"I should protest."

"You sure can. But they'll freeze."

"This is emotional abuse!" I moan, shaking my head in frustration, stabbing the poker into the ground. It gets stuck, and I have to spend a good minute trying to pull it out. "And now I'm wasting more. Time!" As it retreats from the ground, I go flying with it, and I trip into Gary.

"We could just have fun."

"How. Is this. Fun?" I pant.

"You need to lighten up. The night is ours! Dance! Do... whatever you want."

"Like... this?" I snap my fingers, and fire chases around us, lighting the already-dying grass and melting the snow. It dances around us in a circle, and I feel as free as it, as if it's glad to not be contained by a pathetic little bowl.

"Yes, but not necessarily with the damage." He grins in the firelight.

"Ok. So like this?" I light the ends of my robes, but only let the flames lick up to the point where it gets dangerous for me.

"Gorgeous, and as safe as you're going to be." He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and his own cloak is set alight, making him scream and jump around.

"Calm down!" I yell, chasing him. "It won't attack you!"

"Sure feels like it!" I run after him until the next hut, where we pick up the fire-lighting pace.

The houses are lit in moments (not that I set the whole house on fire), and people stare at my robes like it's crazy, or maybe I'm crazy.

I spread so much warmth. Physical and metaphorical. Each house I leave is warmer, and every heart glows the same.

By the end of the night, I'm dancing from house to house, skipping along like a madwoman. Gary joins in with my dances, spinning me around as I shoot little fireballs. Ka-pow! Ka-pow!

Gary's father isn't quite so happy about the revelation of 'Hey. This doesn't have to be torture.' He scolds us -- but mainly Gary, because I am a magical dudess, after all -- that this is serious magical business, and we shouldn't mess around.

But isn't this sort of stuff better when distributed freely, and not forced from an individual, like they were trying to squeeze every last bit of fire from me?

The grand total for houses lit was 1253! And 1492 individual fires.

Ok, so Gary was right this one time. Next time he tells me to dance whilst lighting fires in over a thousand houses, I'm going to ignore him, because my whole body and soul aches the next morning. And I'm so tired.

I guess it was worth it, so those people would have fire all winter. Since my flames are eternal, they'll only run out when they put them out in the summer. And I'll have to do it over and over again. Hoorah!

Thank you for reading. I hope you got a little Christmas joy from this story. Here, for anyone who wants it, is the maintenance.

If you enjoyed this story, please, please, please (I can add a cherry if necessary) like, comment, rate and share. It really helps me out and allows others to see these (hopefully decent) stories. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.