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the
pan-licker, this time she left out two dirty pots for him to
satisfy himself with. When she opened the door the next morning,
there on the ground were her cleaned pots. In her mind, she was
preparing for all of the Lads to visit them.
    Askasleikir, the
bowl-licker, would need to be dispatched somewhat differently from
the other “lickers.” He liked to hide under beds and grab a wooden
bowl that had been left out by an unsuspecting victim. Since he
would be coming into their house, she wanted the children to be
with her. So that
evening Berglind told the children that they would all share her
bed.
    “ But Mama,” Magnús
protested. “I am almost a man. I do not mind so much sharing a bed
with Leifur, but I do not want to share the bed with you and
Lilja.”
    “ Nor do I,” Leifur
hastened to add.
    Berglind stifled their protestations.
“This night you will do as I say. I do not want to hear one more
word from either of you. Oh, why can you not obey me?” Her voice
had taken on a high-pitched tone of desperation.
    The boys pouted but remained
silent.
    “ I like sleeping with you,
Mama. And I do not mind Magnús and Leifur with us,” Lilja said
quietly.
    “ You are a good girl, my
Lilja. May you always be so.” With Snorri gone these past months,
Lilja had been sharing Berglind’s bed and not the small private
area set up in her sons’ room.
    They ate their meal together. The boys
still being somewhat petulant, remained quiet. Berglind and Lilja
cleaned up afterward and gathered their bowls with the detritus
from their stew.
    The children positioned themselves in
the bed, Magnús and Leifur on one side, Lilja and Berglind on the
other, and before joining them, Berglind set the small wooden bowls
from their supper on the floor at the foot of the bed.
    “ This is very pleasant, my
children,” Berglind said, hoping to ease her son’s ill humor. “Soon
you will all be too grown up to do this. Please, for your mama, let
me enjoy this time with my children.” Her voice caught on the last
word.
    Leifur put his hands on his mother’s
shoulder, saying, “Please don’t cry, Mama. We will be good. I am
sorry we made you cry.”
    “ I am also sorry, Mama,”
Magnús was quick to add. “It is not so uncomfortable in the bed. It
is not much different with you both than it is with only
Leifur.”
    “ Thank you, Magnús. I am
tired tonight. I will be fine. Sleep now, my children.”
    Berglind slept fitfully, thoughts of
Grýla and of their next night’s visitor, Hurdaskellir, the door
slammer, kept her thoughts active. She knew without a doubt the
rest of the Yuletide Lads would be visiting them. Their family had
been singled out. Additional thoughts of Snorri and his brother’s
return plagued her mind: Would they have done sufficient work?
Would it have been enough to keep the Yuletide Cat away? They all
must be wearing something new or the Cat would eat them. Had Snorri
gotten them all something to wear?
    All of these thoughts ran through her
troubled sleep, and she unconsciously hugged Lilja
closer.
    When they awoke the next morning,
Berglind collected the wooden bowls from the floor.
    Licked clean. Askasleikir had
mysteriously entered, done his mischief, and left.
    Berglind sighed audibly.
    “ What is it, Mama?” a very
sleepy-eyed Lilja said, rising from her cozy spot on the
bed.
    “ Nothing, little one. But
I am afraid none of us will sleep well tonight.”
    “ Hurdaskellir, the door
slammer, comes tonight,” Magnús said and pushed away from the still
recumbent Leifur.
    “ Ow,” was Leifur’s
response. “Don’t push me.”
    Magnús ignored him. “Mama, do you know
why all the Yuletide Lads are visiting us? What have we
done?”
    Berglind gave a bone-weary sigh this
time and strengthened her resolve. She sat on the edge of the bed;
Lilja snuggled to her. “I never wanted you children to know this,
but I fear that if I do not tell you, you will do something to
cause even greater troubles.”
    “