“Careful, you’ll bend them!” Hannah says and moves her hand to right the rod where the wicks are tied.

Garms looks up and moves the rod away from Hannah’s helping hand, bending the rightmost candle even more as it leans on the edge of the pot of hot wax.

“I’ve got it,” he replies in mild annoyance, while pointedly ignoring the bending candle.

The movement and the fresh layer of wax make some of the candles stick together. Seeing this development, Hannah hands Garm the knife without comment. Accepting the instrument Garm begins separating the fused candles.

The two of them had arrived back at the Helland farm barely an hour before sundown. Their father, who had been doing some work in the barn, seemed less than pleased the two had run off. Jonas had sternly reminded them of duties the two had neglected in their rush to aid their neighbors. He couldn’t be outright mad at the two for showing such neighborly spirit, but Garm had noticed he looked to be far from done with the ‘talk’ they had started that morning.

Garm would not admit it openly, but he was glad Hannah had come with him earlier. Reading the sour mood, she had deftly diffused the situation by suggesting they made up for it by getting out their candlemaking supplies from the storage room. “After all,” she had pointed out, “With the lights dead, and no fix in sight, we should get a head start preparing lights like they used to.”

Their father had seemed no happier for being reminded of the past, although he agreed it was a good idea. The two then spent the evening getting supplies, heating wax, and tying wicks. When the sun finally sank behind the hills, they had stacked twenty brand new candles on the table, the next batch Garm was carefully separating as they spoke.

Hannah begins preparing the next series of wicks while looking over at her brother, who is engrossed in the work of carefully dividing his fused candles. She hums an old song their mother taught her as she smiles in subtle satisfaction at their work. The menial labor brings its own kind of peace to their home. In the dim light from the lantern, the kitchen becomes a sanctuary from the day’s strife and worries.

Garm’s hands have been still since they began, Hannah notes. Keeping his mind on what’s in front of him lets her brother still his thoughts, or maybe just occupies them for a bit. Being honest with herself, she’s not sure what goes on inside Garm’s mind, but glad nonetheless for the brief reprieve.

“That’s another set done,” Garm holds up the rod, showing off the ‘finished’ product.

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Hannah examines the candles and gives Garm a skeptical glare. Their sides have become jagged and uneven from the treatment, and many have taken on a distinctly angular shape.

“What?” Garm asks, but can’t hide a slight grin. “Oh, fine,” he eventually says and dips the candles a final time in the hot wax, giving them a more rounded texture.

The two keep at it for another half an hour before their father comes in. His work done and the barn locked, they hear him grunt as he hangs his jacket on its rack. After struggling off his shoes he makes his way across the living room and into the kitchen where they’re working. Jonas pointedly ignores them and slowly makes his way up the stairs to the second floor. Not long after, they hear a metallic click as he enters his room.

Hannah notices Garm staring at his candles like he can will them to cool. The room has gone quiet and hands idle in the brief moment. The rod with the candles shakes slightly. When Garm notices, then sees that Hannah has noticed too, he claps his other hand on the first to still the faint tremble.

“Let me…” Hannah begins.

Garm shakes his head and puts on a grin, “No, no, there's no need.”

Hannah seems unconvinced by her brother’s reaction, but doesn’t insist. In the span of a moment, she saw Garm go from slack contentedness to being visibly on edge. She’d rather avoid an argument, and so decide to observe in silence.

Garm puts down his candles, balancing the rod between the table and a chair. He then begins untying and stacking them neatly along with the others. looking like he’s wanting for something to say, he scans the kitchen.

“Hey, Hannah, have you seen Sven around?” Garm eventually says.

Before Hannah can reply they see a snout poke out from under the kitchen bench Garm is sitting on. Having heard his name, the aging dog lets out a yawn, sniffs the air a few times, and then disappears under the bench again.

Hannah lowers her head and stretches out a hand towards Sven’s hiding spot. While making calling motions with her fingers, she explains, “Da says he’s only been outside to do his business. He’s refused to go further than the flowers by the door, then runs back in like he’s being chased by the Thompson’s cat.”

“Huh,” Garm grunts in response before following Hanna’s arm with his eyes. “That’s unusual, don’t you prefer staying in your dog house?” he asks in the direction of the dog's hiding place. Sven just lets out a brief, near inaudible, jowl at the prompting, then returns to being silent.

Failing to get a reaction out of Sven, Hannah sighs and goes back to finishing her batch. Garms shrugs and helps out. After another hour the two have a stack of candles they agree is an acceptable start, then they begin cleaning up their mess. Pots are emptied and scrubbed, unused wax is stored, and not long after the kitchen looks as it did before they started

By the time they are done, both of them are yawning and feeling the strain of a day spent in constant motion. They blow out the lantern and start walking up the stairs to a well-deserved night’s sleep.

To the chorus of a shared, “Good night,” the siblings return to their rooms. Within minutes both are knocked out cold, dreaming of candles and sugar buns.