Although her sleep was nearly perfect, waking up was quite another matter. A series of barks, both human and animal, came from the barnyard. Freda ran to the window and looked outside, only to find Mr. Steinnar, with shovel-in-hand, chasing after an arctic fox.
The white-furred fox ran circles around Mr. Steinnar, yapping at the chubby old man. Meanwhile, Mr. Steinnar tried his best to catch the crafty fox.
Soon after, Freda’s father joined Mr. Steinnar in the barnyard. The two men were trying to protect Mr. Steinnar’s collection of Icelandic Sheep.
Usually, this was a job for Mr. Steinnar’s sheepdog, Thor. Unfortunately, Thor was no legendary hero. Instead, he was a lazy old dog who watched from the warmth of the barn.
Freda got dressed and hurried downstairs. She did not want either her father or Mr. Steinnar hurting the beautiful fox.
“Get out!” Mr. Steinnar shouted at the fox.
“Scat!” shouted Mr. Samuelsson.
“Leave him alone!” screeched Freda.
The men stopped at Freda’s command. They also stopped to catch their breath. The fox paused, knee-deep in snow. The fox glanced at the red-headed girl on the porch and then at the tired old men in the barnyard. The men were bent at the waist with their hands on their knees. They exhaled hot clouds of breath from their lungs.
The arctic fox yapped at them from the safety of the snow bank. Mr. Steinnar popped up and took a few tired steps towards the fox. The fox darted under the electric fence and disappeared into the woods.
“And don’t come back!” shouted Mr. Steinnar.
In all the chaos, Freda had not noticed that her jacket was damp. She had not remembered it being that wet the previous night. In fact, the jacket smelled clean.
“You shouldn’t be out here in that jacket,” said Mr. Steinnar.
“Why not?”
“I just washed it this morning while you were in bed.”
“What will I do for a coat?” she asked.
“You do know I not only fix clothes, but I sell them, too. I have plenty more inside.”
Freda retreated to the warmth of the house. Soon after, Mr. Steinnar and her father joined her.
“Wait here one moment,” said Mr. Steinnar.
He grabbed the yellow measuring tape and drew it around Freda. He measured around her chest and her waist, then drew the tape from her neck to her hip. He even placed the end of the measuring tape on her forehead and drew it around her head. Afterwards, he looped the measuring tape around his neck and disappeared into a back room. He emerged with a green vest and overcoat.
“This should do the trick,” he stated.
“What trick?”
“Try them on,” he replied.
Freda buttoned the vest and pulled on the jacket. She rumpled her body, trying to make it fit. She was not used to the scratchiness of Icelandic wool. Her mother always took her to one of the shopping malls in Reykjavik whenever she needed a new coat.
“Hold still,” said Mr. Steinnar.
He stood in front of Freda and tugged on the shoulders of her jacket, straightening it on her frame. He picked lint off the face of the fabric. Afterwards, he ran his hands over the shoulder, smoothing the surface.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“Scratchy.”
“Of course it’s scratchy. It’s wool. Do you like it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Go outside and see how it feels.”
He tied a wool scarf around her neck and gave her a wool cap, too. Freda went for test walk in the clothes. Although the clothes were plenty scratchy, they were plenty warm, too.
She followed the fox tracks until she passed by the barn. A group of Icelandic sheep sat behind a fence inside the barn, just on the other side of Thor. As she passed the old sheepdog, he opened one eye, investigated the red-haired girl, and then went back to sleep.
“Hello, sheep,” she said, “How are you doing?”
The sheep ignored Freda as they grazed from the feeding trough. They seemed perfectly comfortable inside the chilly barn.
“No wonder you’re not shivering, you’re wearing wool.”
She pet the sheep while they continued to eat. As soon as the sheep were finished, they moved away from the trough and away from Freda. She walked along the fence, peering at the sheep and their thick, woolen coats.
“Why is your wool so soft? I guess that’s because you do not have fingers to scratch when it itches.”
She leaned against the fence and watched the sheep for several moments. They gathered in the corner of their stall as they laid down for sleep.
Although the rest of her body felt fine, Freda’s cheeks and face were frozen. She decided it was time to return to the warmth of the farm house. Even though she was inside, she remained in her coat and hat, trying to get warm.
“You’d better remove your cap and coat,” said her father.
“But my face is still cold,” replied Freda.
“Then let’s warm you up,” said Mr. Steinnar.
He prepared a bowl of hræringur and offered it to Freda. Freda stirred the mix of porridge and yogurt with her spoon.
“Do you have any molasses?” she asked.
Mr. Steinnar retrieved a jar of molasses from the kitchen. She plopped the honey dipper into the molasses and drizzled it over the hræringur. She stirred her molasses into the hræringur and took a bite. It tasted rich, like heavy cream, but sweetened with the molasses. As Freda ate it, she warmed from the inside out.
She investigated the front room as she ate. In the light of day, she noticed a picture of a Viking ship on the far wall.
“Why do you have a picture of a boat?” asked Freda.
“That’s no boat. It’s a Viking Ship. Can you imagine sailing in these icy waters without a modern coat?”
“Brrr. Not at all,” replied Freda with a shiver.
“Icelandic explorers were masters of warm clothing, too.”
“Like my wool coat?”
“Even better. Vikings used something called oilskin.”
He brought an old black cape from the back room. It was made of canvas, but the outer surface was slick and glossy.
“Is this oilskin?”
Mr. Steinnar nodded.
“They coated some of their fabric with oil, which made the fabric windproof and waterproof. In fact, Icelandic scholars say this oilskin, layered over wool garments is just as warm as the most sophisticated jackets made today.”
Freda ran her hand over the oilskin. To her, it felt like the skin of a seal pup.
“Is it made from animal skin?”
“Normally it’s just cotton covered in oil and cured.”
“Cured?”
“Haberdashers would warm the coat over hot coals to dry the oil. After a layer of oil dried, they applied another layer of oil and baked the coat again. The oil also glued the threads of the fabric together, making it waterproof.”
“That seems like a lot of work,” said Freda.
“I’m sure it is, but it is better than being cold, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.”
Freda finished her hræringur and asked for another. Mr. Steinnar gladly obliged. He also served up two bowls of the hearty porridge for Mr. Samuelsson and himself.
“That hits the spot,” says Mr. Samuelsson.
“I agree,” added Freda, “I feel much better.”
“After I finish my bowl, I think we’d better get on the road.”
Freda groaned.
“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Steinnar, “you’re welcome back anytime.”
“Good,” smiled Freda.
“You can keep the overcoat and vest, too. You’ll need it to keep you warm on the trip home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Steinnar.”
“You’re welcome, Freda.”
Freda put on her new vest and overcoat and tucked her old jacket under her arm.
“What do I owe you, Magnus?” offered Mr. Samuelsson.
“We’ll decide that the next time you come by the store.”
“Fair enough,” replied Freda’s father as the two men shook hands.
They said their good-byes and loaded themselves into the Arctic Truck. As they made their way back onto the Ring Road, they faced the sun. It beat on Freda’s face as she sat beside her father.
“How long do you think it’ll be until we’re home?” she asked.
“We’ll be there when we get there,” her father answered.
Freda had heard it time and time again. Her father was a man of few predictions. He always worked hard and tried his best. The rest was “up to the Good Lord”, as her father always said.
Freda closed her eyes, but did not go to sleep. Instead, she basked in the glow of the morning sun. She was warm and content. She was also anxious to get home and show her new coat to her mother.
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