The Snow Was So Cold That... [Finland + Russia]

[Finland]

[February 21, 1986]

The snow was so cold that Tino’s feet ached just from touching the hardwood floors inside the cabin. The fireplace seemed to be struggling to keep up with the arctic temperatures from outside permeating the wooden walls. Of course, he was used to this. By far, this was not the coldest winter he’d experienced. Today was even promising to be relatively nice. There had been several centimeters of snow yesterday and since then, the clouds had broken off some and little slivers of clear sky peeped between the fluffy grey masses. It was the good kind of snow, too. The powdery kind – excellent for skiing and snowboarding. Yes, it was going to be a beautiful day in Levi, Finland.

Well, it would have been, Tino seethed mentally as he stared out the picture window in the den, his face set in an uncharacteristic scowl. This, though… he thought as he shot a steeled glare back into the bedroom where his roommate was currently bustling about. …This sucks.

…

A week prior to arriving in Levi, Tino’s boss, President Koivisto, had informed him that he would be going on a weekend trip.

“On business, sir?” The Finn had asked. A legitimate question, he had not expected the answer he received.

“In a sense, Suomi,” his boss had replied, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve noticed that you don’t get along very well with the spirit representative of the Soviet Union. Listen, I can’t even begin to imagine what type of relationship you…” he motioned towards the blonde before continuing, “…your kind have with one another. However, our nations are attempting to maintain friendly relations currently, as you know, and I think it would be a great help if you would, ah, participate.”

Tino mulled over the words. He realized that his question had remained unanswered. Koivisto was a good enough man, but having been a lawyer and a politician, it was probably ingrained into his nature to dance around the answer. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Right. Of course. We, that being myself and the Soviet leaders, have arranged for a trip for you and, um, Venäjä this weekend. Your task is to get to know him better – maybe even learn to get along.”

Tino stammered for a minute. He couldn’t reject his boss’ order, so there was really no point in objecting. It was an odd assignment to say the least. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d truly have more fun spending two days getting to know a brick wall. This wasn’t about fun, though, and he knew that. This was about the political pressure being placed on their countries to cooperate.

“Ah,” Tino breathed, almost as a forgotten sidenote. “And where exactly will we be going?”

…

Tino got his reply seven days later when he was dropped off sometime before dawn at a ski resort in Levi. His boss had insisted on keeping it a surprise. For what reason, the Finn didn’t know. It wouldn’t make him any happier, but it satisfied his boss, so whatever. He’d arrived before Ivan which suited him fine. It would give him time to nose around without having to keep one eye on his Communist friend. After being handed a set of keys and his ski gear (which, of course, his boss had ever-so graciously arranged to be packed for him), his driver bid him farewell and drove away.

The resort was actually rather nice, which served to lift his spirits some. The cabin his boss had booked for them was modern and spacious without losing the traditional cozy feeling. There was a living room with a television set and a fireplace, a small kitchenette, a patio overlooking the Finnish wilderness, and, of course, a sauna. They were close enough to slopes and restaurants so that the lack of an automobile, if Ivan didn’t bring one, wouldn’t hinder them. For the first time, Tino managed a genuine smile while thinking about this plan. Perhaps it was not such a bad idea after all. Maybe it’ll be fun.

And then he saw the bedroom. Without high-speed photographic equipment, it was indeterminable whether his jaw or his luggage dropped more quickly.

It was a nice enough bedroom. There was another fireplace, smaller than the one in the living room, a fairly large closet, a spacious attached bath, and a large, comfortable-looking bed. And therein laid the problem: A bed. As in one bed. True, it was a large bed. It could sleep both of them, probably, but hell if the Finn were going to let that happen. He searched desperately for a moment for a fold-out bed or cot of some sort. No such luck.

“Hitto,” Tino hissed, any trace of happiness in his voice suddenly gone. His outlook on the weekend soured again. At least there’s a sauna. he thought bitterly as he picked up his bags and tossed them into the bedroom. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

The Russian arrived not too long after him. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten from the deep indigo color of night to a grey-pink daybreak. Tino had started a fire in the den and had curled up on the couch under a blanket he’d found in the bedroom closet, content to watch the sun turn the snow a glistening orange. The jangling and clicking of keys opening the lock brought him to attention and he sat up as the door opened, letting in an icy breeze and a large Russian man.

The Finn watched as the familiar man entered the room, managing a half-hearted, “Hello.” It sounded forced and awkward, and it was. “The bedroom’s in there,” he continued after a moment, jabbing his thumb towards said room. “And the bathroom.”

After that, he stood and walked to the window, not waiting for a reply, though Ivan might have given one. He heard the man walk off after some time and heaved a sigh. It wasn’t fair, he supposed, to be short with Ivan like that. True, he’d always carried a grudge against the other for obvious reasons, but if he could manage to put the past several hundred years of bad blood aside, the weekend could be salvaged. He wished it would be as easy as it was in his mind, but something – maybe the one bed thing or maybe something else – told him that he was about to be in for a serious test of patience.

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LOL FORESHADOWING. Pffft. Factual notes – Levi [pronounced lay-vee, not lee-vai] is a famous ski resort in Lapland. President Mauno Koivisto, member of the Social Democratic Party, was in office during the collapse of the USSR, a time for tense relations between Finland and Russia. [Seriously, do they ever have not-tense relations?] If anything is unclear, which is likely given the time, let me know![/color]

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that even with his excessive layers of clothing on, Russia shivered as his car made its way through the Finnish countryside. Having drank way past the legal limit in vodka, he had not been allowed to drive himself to the location. Although he suspected his boss had had ulterior motives for insisting that he be driven as well. Ivan drove after drinking all the time, and it had never been a problem for him in the past. So to think that his leader would suddenly insist he not drive just because of the alcohol, was hard to swallow. Ivan suspected that his boss wanted to have him dropped off at the resort as a means of trapping him there. Without his car, he would have to walk back to his borders if he tried to leave early; something that he had no interest of doing with General Winter in full storm.

If there was one thing Ivan was certain of, it was that Andrei Gromyko must have hated him. To even suggest something as awful as this was enough to make Russia eager for someone else to take the reins of leadership. This was not just a bad idea, it was a terrible idea.

Last week, when his boss had ordered him to leave Afghanistan and head back to Moscow immediately, Ivan had been under the impression that the man had had something very important to inform him about. Perhaps even a dangerous mission. Instantly thoughts of his greatest military rival, America, had came to mind. Maybe Soviet intelligence had heard something about American activities and his boss was going to inform him about it?

The thought had been encouraging and exciting, and Ivan had been all too eager to leave Afghanistan’s hellishly hot lands and return to the comfort of Moscow. He hadn’t felt that things in Afghanistan were going favorably anyways, so he had at first thought that any mission his boss might give him would be a welcome break from all the nonsense going on there. That was until he had heard what his boss wanted him to do.

Once he had been fully informed about his boss’ intentions, Ivan had given a firm, despairing refusal of the order. There was no way in Hell that he wanted to go spend time with Finland at some ski resort. He didn’t even know how to ski! Despite years of his men using skis for warfare-something they had picked up from Tino’s people- Ivan had never bothered to learn. It just did not interest him. And now his boss wanted to send him to go stay in a cabin with Finland all alone and learn such a thing? It was ridiculous! What a waste of time when he was in the middle of a war! Plus, it was no secret that he and Finland were not friends at all. Ivan had never gotten over not being able to completely conquer Finland in the Winter War. The lands he had gained from the treaty were nice and better than nothing, but he had wanted so much more, and Finland had been unreasonable to have fought so hard to stop him from getting what he had wanted and deserved. What he still wanted, even if he did not inform his boss about such thoughts.

In the end though, no country could resist direct orders from their leaders, and despite his pleading and attempts to bring Gromyko to his way of thinking, the man had remained firm in his orders. Ivan would go to Finland, and learn to ski. His personal feelings on the matter-as always- did not matter in the least.

Not more than a week after being informed of his travel plans with Tino, his boss had tossed him some necessary ski equipment and ordered him into the car and on his way. Worse, Ivan had not been allowed to carry his favorite pipe or any type of firearm with him on this trip. Apparently, his boss suspected that Ivan would be the type to try and get out of the situation by attacking and possibly “killing” Finland. Of course the thought had crossed Russia’s mind, but he knew better, and wished his boss would have allowed him to take his trusty pipe along at least. What if Finland was armed? What if Finland was secretly in alliance with the mujahideen ? Then Finland and his boss could be forcing Ivan into a death trap with this weekend trip. Why did Gromyko not see this possibility?

Ivan had worried about the possibility of walking into a trap incessantly for almost the entire car ride. His paranoia had not lessened over the years, and had been brought out in full force with the current war. He may not have been quite as worried about nuclear weapons these days, but he still retained all of his paranoia since the ending of World War II.

As the car pulled into the driveway, Ivan remained seated for a moment, staring at his driver and wishing the other man would stay here with Tino and Ivan could drive away to freedom. But orders were orders, and the large Russian finally opened the car door and stepped out into the frigid air. Pulling his coat tighter around himself, he grabbed his bags and headed for the cabin door, pulling the keys out of his pocket in the process. Shoving the keys in the lock, he cast one last longing look over his shoulder, only to find his car gone. This was it. He was trapped here until the weekend was up. Opening the door with his usual deceptive smile, he hurried into the warmth of the cabin.

“Hello.”

His eyes instantly focused on an all too familiar form sitting on the couch, covered with a blanket. “Hello Finland.” His gaze swept over the room briefly as Tino directed him towards the bedroom and bathroom. It wasn’t that large of a cabin, by his way of thinking. Not nearly large enough to comfortably house himself and a former enemy. Not that a mansion would have made the weekend any more comfortable. All the same, the place looked nice, despite it’s smaller size. It looked oddly comfy for being a Finnish cabin. Maybe the trip wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Casting Tino another glance, he noticed that the other man had not drawn a weapon of sorts yet and attempted to attack. Maybe learning to ski and having some time away from the fighting and struggles of Afghanistan would be alright after all.

The thought brightened his expression, and he followed Finland’s direction and went into the bedroom to explore and drop his bags off. “Спасибо, Товарищ.” He thanked the other nation with a certain air of mock politeness. Making his way into the room, the Russian stopped in his tracks in confusion. There was a serious problem. One bed. What the Hell had Finland’s boss been thinking to give them a cabin with only one bed?! Where was Finland going to sleep? Maybe the other planned on sleeping on the couch? Maybe the Fins had a weird custom of sleeping on couches?

After setting his bags down and exploring a bit, Ivan returned to the main room. “Why is there only one bed, Tino?” He asked his cabin mate curiously. “Where do you plan on sleeping?” The stocky blonde made his way over by the fireplace, standing in front of the blaze and holding his hands out to warm them. “We both know that neither of us wants to be here. The least your boss could have done would have been to give us another bed.”
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((Translations: "Спасибо, Товарищ." = "Thank you, Comrade."

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that the temperature inside the already-cool cabin had dropped at least five degrees just from having the door opened for a brief few moments. Or maybe it was just because Ivan was inside now. Tino cringed but said nothing at the sickly sweet greeting offered to him by the other nation. He felt as if Ivan was somehow asserting his detest of this plan and his refusal to cooperate by speaking in Russian rather than their shared language. It was definitely passive-aggressive.

As Ivan shuffled off into the bedroom, the Finn made his way back to the couch and collapsed with a slightly exasperated huff. Finland couldn’t remember the last time he and Russia had been alone in a room together. Possibly for thirty seconds in a restroom at one of the world meetings, but that was all that came to mind since Tino’s duchy days had ended. It was extremely uncomfortable, to say the least, and he just couldn’t seem to put it out of his mind that there was only one—

“Why is there only one bed, Tino?”

Yeah, that.

It was nice to hear the common language, at least. Maybe Ivan wasn’t being as stubborn as Tino had first suspected.

“Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Where did Ivan think he planned on sleeping? On the bed, of course! It was his cabin, after all. He contemplated answering the Russian, but in the end decided against it. Bedtime was several hours off; sleeping arrangements were a headache for another time. Tino watched as the man crossed the space from the bedroom to the fireplace in the den.

“We both know that neither of us wants to be here. The least your boss could have done would have been to give us another bed.”

That’s an understatement, the Finn thought with a quiet scoff.

“Yeah, well,” Tino began, standing once again and removing the blanket from around his shoulders. He began folding it primarily so that he’d have something to do other than to make eye contact with the other man in the room. “He’s like that sometimes. I don’t know. I’m sure he means well.” Tossing the neatly folded blanket over the arm of the couch, he added a quiet, “It’s not how I would have chosen to spend my weekend if given the option, either.”

Tino wondered, if he and Ivan became no closer after this trip – a very realistic possibility – what would his boss do? It could go two ways, he reasoned. The first way, Herra Koivisto would see the absurdity of this plan, apologize to Tino with a bottle of Salmari and never speak of it ever again. Oh, Tino very much liked that outcome. Alternatively, Tino and Ivan could be made to do the whole thing over again, to spend another two days stuck on top of an icy mountain together. Two more long and torturous days. He didn’t want that. Not at all. Perhaps it would be better to get it over with the first time and at least pretend they had acted civil when his boss asked? Maybe. Just maybe.

With a forced smile, Tino continued, “Well, what’s say we get our gear and hit the slopes? I don’t know about you but I don’t want to stay stuck inside this cabin for the next two days.” A mental ‘…with you.’ was tacked onto the end of that statement in the Finn’s mind, but the tone of his voice and the friendly smile on his face would not have betrayed his current urge to go at Ivan Lalli-style. And the suggestion had not been entirely insincere. Finland assumed it was just being trapped in the small house with the Soviet that was making him so crazy already, so getting out in the fresh air where he could burn off energy would do him good.

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ADSFKL;FJSK My computer suddenly decided to refuse cyrillic. Also, I meant to have this up last night but I fell asleep. orz

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that even standing by the fire, Ivan cold still feel the bone numbing chill from outside that had crept in with him when he had opened the door. It was going to be a frigid day, and an even worse night. Nothing that he couldn't deal with since he had been stationed in colder places like Siberia before, but it was uncomfortable all the same. Russia much preferred warmer weather, and was already eager for summer. If they had to be sent somewhere to try ad get along, why couldn’t his boss have waited until summer and then sent them camping in a sunflower field or something? It would have been far better than this. But Finland was an enemy, and therefore, Ivan came to the illogical conclusion that he and his people must have hated sunflowers.

“Yeah, well,”

Holding his hands in front of the warm, orange and yellow flames, Ivan turned his head to study the other nation with a weary sort of curiosity as he spoke. Though Finland was absorbed in the task of folding a blanket, Ivan’s gaze was focused on the other man with the intensity of a hawk looking for prey. He was ready to move away from the comfy fire at a second’s notice it the Fin were to suddenly draw a weapon from under that blanket. The memory of having his kneecap shot out while trying to retreat at one point in the Winter War was still too fresh in the Russian’s memory to risk looking carelessly away. At this range, if the Fin were to pull a gun, he could do far worse than shatter a kneecap and leave Ivan trying to hobble across the Finnish countryside back towards home.

“He’s like that sometimes. I don’t know. I’m sure he means well. It’s not how I would have chosen to spend my weekend if given the option, either.”

He means well? How could the other nation think that when they had just been sentenced to spend a whole weekend at some ski resort, with a cabin containing only one bed? Ivan was certainly not under the delusion that his boss had meant well. He must have seriously pissed the man off in order to deserve such a trip. And with no weapons to defend himself from Finnish hostility too. He already knew he wasn’t going to sleep well tonight, no matter how cozy the bed was, or how harmless Tino was trying to appear.

And he was doing a very good job at not looking threatening too. With his soft, innocent features and non-aggressive expression… Ivan could almost be convinced that the other nation was indeed just planning on skiing and getting through the weekend as best as he could. Almost. Though there was no malevolent spark in Tino’s eyes, Ivan was certain that if he didn’t watch himself carefully, he would end up shot. He likened it to the situation in Afghanistan, were the most innocent looking woman or child could easily be carrying a grenade or weapon of sorts, just waiting for the right moment to successfully attack. All too often he had seen this trick work on some of his men, and was not about to fall victim to a similar fate concerning his old rival.

“Well, what’s say we get our gear and hit the slopes? I don’t know about you but I don’t want to stay stuck inside this cabin for the next two days.”

“I agree.” He returned the smile. Pulling his mind out of thoughts of death and deception, the Russian considered how exactly he was going to admit that he had no idea how to ski. Well, he had an idea. By his way of thinking skiing was just strapping the skis on and sliding down a mountain. It surely couldn’t be that hard. And there were sticks to use to stop, right? Or were they weapons in case another skier got too close? Maybe they were both? The idea of just poking one of the sticks into the ground to stop on the side of a mountain seemed silly to him though. With his weight and speed once he started going, wouldn’t trying to stop in such a manner just break the stick? He was full of questions, but hesitant to ask his companion out of embarrassment for being a cold, northern nation and never having skied before.

As he collected his gear, he was faced with a dilemma. Should he just pretend he knew what he was doing and risk injury and humiliation if his ideas turned out to be wrong? Or should he just tell Tino that he had no idea how to go about skiing, and had certainly never done it before? The second option seemed best, since then he could write off his enemy’s skill as just having had more practice. If the other nation laughed and asked him how he could have never skied, he was fully prepared to claim that he had more important things to do, like focus on building weaponry. That sounded like a decent reason to have never learned by his reasoning.

“Finland… I have something I should probably tell you.” His smile couldn’t have been friendlier and his tone was deceptively quiet as he spoke to the Nordic. “I have no idea how to ski. I’ve never actually tried it before.”

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that it numbed Tino’s shock a little when Ivan agreed with him.

Hearing “I agree.” coming from that particular nation was something Tino would never be used to. The Finn and the Soviet had agreed on maybe three things in their entire lifetime (vodka was obviously the best invention mankind had created and… okay, so maybe it was one thing.) However, it was a pleasant surprise to hear Ivan comply so easily. Perhaps he wasn’t going to spend the entire trip being a wet blanket.

Finland had just turned to head into the bedroom to pick up his duffel bag when he heard the Russian add, “Finland… I have something I should probably tell you. I have no idea how to ski. I’ve never actually tried it before.”

“Hah!” Tino felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t meant to laugh, honestly! One simply didn’t laugh at the Soviet Union! People were sent to work camps in Siberia for things like that! Slapping a hand over his mouth, he looked over for any sign that Ivan wanted to kill him, perhaps lasers coming from his eyes or some kind of fiery red aura emitting from his body. Everything seemed to be normal for now.

“I-I-I mean… r-really, Russia?” he stammered, trying to smooth over his slip-up before Ivan had time to dwell on it. “You can’t ski?”

When he thought about it, the Finn supposed it shouldn’t be so surprising. Skiing originated in the Alps and in Fennoscandia, not in Russia. Tino remembered his own Norwegian brother teaching him centuries ago, but he couldn’t imagine that he would have been friendly enough with the Russian to teach him as well. It was just that after times like the Winter War, Tino assumed Ivan would have learned how to ski for military purposes. Now that he thought about it, though, he’d never actually witnessed the other nation skiing. He tried to suppress another laugh at the mental image of Ivan tumbling down a slope behind a regimen of soldiers, ski poles and skis and limbs flying every which way, eventually crashing into the men in front of him much like a bowling ball.

“I could teach you, you know.” Tino wasn’t sure what prompted him to say that. Even as he was making his offer, he was thinking of how this would surely backfire. Maybe Ivan really could ski and he just wanted to get the Finn alone on top of a mountain to injure him and leave him for dead? No, that couldn’t be right – his own boss had arranged the trip, and surely his president wasn’t going to endanger his welfare? But what if Ivan had been sent on this trip in order to gather information on Finnish skiing maneuvers to use them against him? Was Ivan currently planning a war against Tino and his people?

The Finn shook the thoughts away; there was no point in being paranoid for the next two days. He figured if Russia had been sent to harm him that he would have done it by now.

As a side note, so he didn't sound pushy, he added, “If you’d like.”

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that Russia was too numb to punch Tino in the face for laughing at him.

He should have expected some sort of laugh or giggle from the other nation though. After all, it did seem silly that a nation as far north as he was would not know how to ski. He got enough snowfall for it, and had decent mountains. Plus there was the whole war strategy element to it, which made the fact that he did not know even more pathetic. But still, hearing the laugh-as short as it was- was irritating and Ivan’s gaze hardened as he stared at Finland.

In all honesty, very few nations had the nerve to outright laugh at Russia. None of his subordinates would dare, and the nations he viewed as important friends and allies didn’t seem to be the giggly sorts. Besides himself laughing at his enemy’s misfortunes, Ivan actually didn’t hear a lot of laughter at all. Especially with his recent assignments. There was more laughter and joy in a funeral home than there was in Afghanistan, and patrolling the Berlin wall was not much better. Even in his own borders there was little laughter these days, and even Russia himself had been less jovial and smiley in recent years. The stagnation in his government was starting to affect him more and more, making him weaker and sicker with every year. Maybe that was part of the reason that the sudden outburst from Finland had taken him more by surprise than it should have. He was not so used to hearing such things anymore.

“I-I-I mean… r-really, Russia?”

The stocky blonde stared at his Finnish cabin-mate intensely, letting his eyes show that he was not well pleased to have been laughed at. The stammering helped ease the situation a little however. If Finland was stammering like that then it surely must have meant that he had realized his mistake in having a laugh at Ivan’s expense. It wasn’t quit the same stammering that his Baltic servants did, but it was something at least. Ivan had learned to equate stammering and stuttering with respect long ago from living with his servants.

“You can’t ski?”

The smiling Soviet shook his head at the question. He was confident that he could figure out how to ski, with practice. He did learn fast when faced with new things. It had taken him no time at all to figure out how to shoot a firearm when they had first came out in his lands. And since then, he had learned to handle many types of weaponry to various levels of excellence. He had also learned how to drive a car pretty quickly when faced with the task. So how hard could it be to learn to ski?

“I could teach you, you know. If you’d like.”

Russia stared at Tino in mild surprise, his suspicions and paranoia growing. It sounded like a perfectly innocent offer, but what if there was ill intent behind it? What if Finland was just trying to get him to naively trust him so that he had a better chance for the kill? What if Finland just wanted to teach him the wrong way to ski so he would end up tripping down the mountain and breaking every bone in his body? His eyes narrowed slightly at the deceptive Fin. “What’s in it for you, Finland?”

Trusting old enemies went against his nature, and as much as he wanted to be taught how to ski, he didn’t want to end up in a dangerous situation. “Not that I would be against lessons, but you wouldn’t offer if there was nothing in it for you.” He assumed that Finland was very much like himself in that regard. If roles were revered, he would not offer to help unless it benefited him.

Opening the door to the wintery hell outside, he paused and waited for Finland to head out first. “Lead the way.” With as suspicious as he was, he really didn’t want to be the first to leave the cabin. That would put Finland behind him. Plus, he was unfamiliar with the area, and unsure where they should go to start the skiing.

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that the little Finn had been shivering since he’d gotten out of the car, but the way Ivan was currently glaring at him made him tremble just a little harder. His little slip up really had ticked the Soviet off, it seemed.

“What’s in it for you, Finland? Not that I would be against lessons, but you wouldn’t offer if there was nothing in it for you.”

Oh, Ivan. It’s more than worth it to watch you fall on your face over and over. He seriously considered saying it aloud, but he figured if Ivan glared any harder at him he might wet himself. Instead, he gave an innocent smile and responded, “Do you really think I’m that shallow, hm? Besides, I like skiing, so it’s really no extra work to teach you.” Tino hoped the explanation would suffice for now; he really didn’t feel like explaining further. And in a sense, it was the truth. He did love skiing; he'd been doing it for most of his life. Over the years, he'd trained enough of his own soldiers on the basics of the sport, so how hard could it be to teach an enemy?

“Lead the way,” was the next thing out of the Russian’s mouth, so Tino’s fib must have been believable enough. He shivered again as the door was pushed open, the heat in the cabin escaping quickly. With his boots slung over one shoulder, skis resting on the other and poles in tow, he stepped past Ivan (perhaps a bit too quickly to indicate that he was completely comfortable being that close to the Soviet).

Already, he felt he could breathe a sigh of relief. Being stuck inside the small house had indeed made being near the Russian much worse. Outside, however, it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps it was because it was Ivan that was on his land. The other now had to play by the Finn’s rules, else Tino would leave him stuck on the top of a black slope with only one ski.

Aside from that, the scenery was beautiful. The bright snow glittered like a thousand tons of sugar poured out over Lapland. The frozen pines looked to be made of pure crystal. Dawn was still giving everything just the slightest pink blush, just like a postcard photo or maybe like one of America's movies based off of Germany's old, creepy fairy tales (Honestly, he didn't know which of the two was more messed up - Germany for having such weird tales or America for making them into something appropriate for little girls.)

By this time of year, Tino often found himself tired of the snow and wishing he could have been born as Ecuador instead, but there was something different about winter in Lapland. It wasn’t like Helsinki where people bundled up in grey and black clothing and kept their heads down like they were mourning the loss of summer. Here in Levi, the term ‘winter wonderland’ could be applied. It was always nice to see tourists from hot, flat areas enjoying his land like this. Is that a dirty thought? They're paying to use my body for enjoyment, so does that make me a prostitute? His mind had the tendency to wander when he was excited. Tino pondered on these thoughts for a moment before shrugging and forgetting them altogether.

Smile a meter wide and eyes glistening, Finland bounded down the steps of the entryway and stepped out into the snow, waiting for Russia to follow. In all honesty, he wasn't completely comfortable having the other behind him, so he turned to face the man.

“The fell’s up that way,” said the Finn as he pointed his ski poles up towards a ridge. “A bus runs from the village to the top, but I don’t mind walking. It’s up to you.” It was a weak attempt at being a hospitable host and it was almost lost completely as he added, “Of course, if you’re afraid to ski, there are bars in town. You could just spend the weekend getting drunk and forget your problems like you’re so accustomed to doing.” He knew the singsong tone of his voice would rub the other the wrong way. He liked that.

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Brothers Grimm reference? Brothers Grimm reference.[/color]

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that Ivan instantly regretted opening the sturdy, wooden cabin door. Though it was surely not as cold as a Siberian winter, It was cold enough to make him pull his coat around himself that little bit tighter. It never ceased to amaze him how such beautiful days could be so frigid.

He had been somewhat satisfied by Finland’s explanation. At least, for now. If he really loved skiing so much, then maybe he wasn’t looking for personal gain through murder and humiliation of his former rival. Although, it was still hard for Ivan to comprehend in many ways. As much as he loved certain activities, he wouldn’t miss a chance to get back at an old enemy if the opportunity presented itself.

Shouldering his own ski gear, the Russian watched with a false look of ease as the Nordic nation moved past him and outside. Staring at the back of the other man’s head, he couldn’t help his old feelings of resentment bubble up, and he mildly wished he had had his pistol with him. Such a close unsuspecting target. It was something he would have been ecstatic to see back in the war. But he wasn’t here to kill or make even greater enemies of the other blonde, and pushed the thoughts aside for the time being. Shouldering his own equipment, Russia followed his cabin mate outside and into the frosty morning air.

He may not have particularly liked Tino, but he had to admit that his land was pretty enough. It would be far more gorgeous in his opinion if it was all his, but the crystalline landscape was attractive enough to help take his mind off his own petty grudges and complaints at being trapped there for the weekend. The sunrise was casting a pink glow on the otherwise blanched landscape, creating a perfect winter morning scene. Every tree and shrub was frosted over, and even the cabin itself had received a fine coating of frost and snow.

Russia’s eyes were turned back on Finland as the other country bounded out into the powdery snow, looking utterly happy despite being in his company. Ivan followed suit after a moment, moving out into the chilly landscape a bit hesitantly.

“The fell’s up that way.”

Pushing some of his flaxen hair from his eyes, Ivan followed the Fin’s ski pole with his sight, bringing his gaze to rest on an icy ridge.

“A bus runs from the village to the top, but I don’t mind walking. It’s up to you.”

Of course that meant they had to walk. No way in Hell Ivan was going to whine about needing to take a bus when the area was within walking distance. That would really be unfitting for a powerful nation like him. He fought in wars and did a surprising amount of physical exercise, so the thought Finland would even suggest a bus was almost insulting. Not that he would have minded to take one if Finland had been the one to insist, but there was no way he would suggest it.

“Of course, if you’re afraid to ski, there are bars in town. You could just spend the weekend getting drunk and forget your problems like you’re so accustomed to doing.”

It took every bit of self control to keep Ivan’s smile firmly in place upon his pale lips at that remark. In actuality, he would have loved to spend the evening in a bar drinking. With enough alcohol, anything could sound better and more appealing; even being stuck with Tino in a cabin. But, he was not about to go searching for Finnish bars now. Tino would enjoy that way too much. Just the thought of making the other man happy by allowing him to ski in peace was enough to turn him away from the alluring idea of bars and alcohol. Keeping this mind set would be rough all weekend though. How Tino could resist the lure of alcohol in favor of skiing was beyond his understanding.

“I am not accustomed to getting drunk as a means of forgetting problems.” He stated cheerily to the other nation. “And I am afraid of nothing. Don’t think that just because I have not skied before, that I will be afraid to. I embrace new experiences. We can even walk there, since I don’t tire easily.”

He made to follow Finland towards the ridge, since surely he would know the best path to take. Though there was gorgeous landscape all around them, he kept his eyes fixed on his former enemy as he walked. “Out of curiosity, why aren’t you going to the bar to drink this weekend away? I hear your people like to drink almost as much as mine.”

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that Tino’s scoff came out in billowy, white puffs before him. It must have also been cold enough to have frozen his brain, for this was the second time today he was laughing at Russia. Stopping suddenly and biting his bottom lip in order to shut himself up before making matters worse, he looked at the other through wide, almost apologetic eyes. Murder was becoming more and more imminent, he just knew it.

It’s not that he wasn’t used to Ivan bluffing, but these bluffs were so far from the truth that they seemed ridiculous. Tino knew the man got drunk to forget his problems. Not that he could really blame him; the Soviet’s boss’ newly formed policy of glasnost was beginning to reveal just how many problems the man had. The Finn suspected he would stay drunk, too, if he was head of a crumbling empire built of unwilling satellite states, widespread pollution, inadequate housing, food shortages and high mortality rates.

“And I am afraid of nothing.”

Another lie. Tino knew almost for certain that it still made Ivan uncomfortable when he wore a long, white coat and approached him quietly from behind. Even if it could be attributed to shellshock now, it meant he had been afraid of him some forty years ago, right? Plus Ivan had that really creepy, incestuous sister. He’d be a moron to not fear her.

“Don’t think that just because I have not skied before, that I will be afraid to. I embrace new experiences. We can even walk there, since I don’t tire easily.”

Giving a shrug, the Finn responded, “Fine with me. We’ll just walk to the lift.” Nodding a gesture for Ivan to follow him, he started towards the hill.

The crunch of the snow under his boots was quite pleasant. It was nicer than the sound of Russia’s voice, for sure, and the way it felt under him confirmed that it was the right consistency for skiing. Of all the negatives of this trip, at least there were prime skiing conditions. He could already imagine the exhilarating feeling of flying down the slopes, twisting his body to make fluid turns, weaving around trees and slower skiers… Oh, but he wouldn’t be getting much time on the black slopes, would he? Not with Russia struggling along behind him. Hopefully the man was a fast learner.

“Out of curiosity, why aren’t you going to the bar to drink this weekend away? I hear your people like to drink almost as much as mine.” He turned to look at the Russian as his words brought him out of his fantasies.

“I never said I wasn’t going to a bar this weekend,” Tino responded calmly, still walking along. Quite alternatively, he’d run the scenario through his mind more than once since climbing into the car back in Helsinki. If he could lose Ivan for five minutes tonight, he’d slip away and leave the other to his own devices in favor of going nightclubbing. “But, ah, my people typically don’t start drinking at…” Shifting the equipment on his shoulders and raising his arm up so that his sleeve fell down past his watch, he read it for a moment before continuing, “…eight in the morning. Maybe that’s normal in Russia, but that’s not the Finnish way. We prefer coffee with breakfast.”

Given the rather secluded location of their cabin, it was quite a far distance to the bottom of the ski lift. The two first had to make their way to the bottom of the hill their lodge rested on, and then past a few small shops and hotels in the village. Tino didn’t mind the walk, of course. After spending the morning in a car, it was nice to stretch. It would have been nicer if one of his brothers had been with him or maybe if he had been alone, but he remained determined not to let Ivan spoil his fun.

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that it distracted from the beauty of the landscape as they made their way towards the slopes. With the sunlight glinting across the alabaster drifts, it looked as though it should feel warmer out. It must have been one of those annoying days when the temperature and the weather did not seem to be in complete agreement.

But Ivan was far more concerned with keeping his eyes on Finland than he was looking at the beautiful scenery around them anyways. Though he would occasionally shift his gaze to examine his surroundings, his main focus was on the smaller blonde leading him. Snow, trees and sunlight were all very fine, but the paranoid nation did not feel he needed to worry about them suddenly attacking him. Not that Finland could win a fist fight with him, but he was still concerned that the other might be carrying some type of concealed weapon. He thought it best to keep on guard for these things just on case.

“I never said I wasn’t going to a bar this weekend.”

Finland had turned to look his way, and Ivan wasted no time in locking eyes with the other nation. He kept an even pace as he stared at the Fin. He should have known as much. It had been silly to think that any nation would be able to resist the thought of alcohol. Come to think of it, the blonde Soviet couldn’t imagine anyone not liking alcohol. He was certain that such a thing was not physically possible. Even animals liked it. He knew that for a fact, having given all his animals vodka at different points.

“But, ah, my people typically don’t start drinking at…”

The Russian watched closely as his rival shifted his equipment to get a view of his watch. He may not have had a pistol or a pipe with him, but if the Fin tried anything he was more than prepared to attempt and use one of his ski poles as a weapon.

“…eight in the morning. Maybe that’s normal in Russia, but that’s not the Finnish way. We prefer coffee with breakfast.”

Finland was under the impression that there was an inappropriate time to drink liquor? By Ivan’s book, eight in the morning was just as good of a time as any to start in with the drinks. Sometimes back home he would fall asleep with a bottle of his favorite spirit in his hand, just to wake up the next morning and resume drinking. He never thought it to be problematic in any way, and had to wonder why Finland and his people would wait to drink. Even if they had a tradition for coffee with breakfast, couldn’t they have alcohol too?

“Why not both coffee and alcohol?” He wondered aloud. "Do Finnish people really think there is an inappropriate time to drink? That makes no sense. Why only drink after a certain hour?” He gave the other nation a genuinely puzzled look, not thinking for a second that perhaps he only found the concept odd because he was an excessive drinker.

“In my borders, there is never a bad time to drink.” Not at all concerned with how that made him or his people sound, the Russian smiled at the thought. “But I suppose stopping for a drink before skiing might not be so good this time.” As lovely as it would be to swing by and get a drink beforehand, he acknowledged that alcohol had a way of messing with balance; which would be disastrous for someone who had such little idea as to how to go about on skis. The mental image of himself tumbling down the mountain with a laughing Fin behind him was enough to help push the thought of vodka to the side for the time being.

The chilly air and bright surroundings had a way of putting the Russian a little more at ease than he had been when they originally had set out. He was still weary of the other nation, but Ivan was starting to become less and less concerned with keeping his violet eyes fixed on him as he walked. More and more, he allowed his sight to drift to the frosted trees around them and the majestic form of the ridge off in front of them.
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(( Sorry for the fail post! I wanted to finish this one tonight since I have stuff to do tomorrow, and I think I was perhaps a bit on the sleepy side. Feel free to drive them along to the lifts or town or whatever next post if you like. ~))

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that Russia’s suggestion of spiked coffee actually sounded very good right now. Finland smiled a little, not tempting fate a third time by going so far as to laugh audibly, at Russia’s assumptions that he had never added alcohol to his coffee before. He was Nordic; surely he had drunk coffee every way possible – black, flavored, hot, iced, decaffeinated, frappé, with milk, with reindeer blood, with sugar and, of course, with alcohol. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded, especially as a particularly chilly gust blew down off the mountain. He felt his eyes go dry and then watery and suddenly wished he had his goggles down into place instead of just leaving them pushed up onto his forehead before occupying both of his hands with equipment.

“ Do Finnish people really think there is an inappropriate time to drink? That makes no sense. Why only drink after a certain hour? In my borders, there is never a bad time to drink.”

Tino slowed his pace a bit, turning his head to shoot the man a questioning glance. The look he gave was somewhere in between sarcastic mockery and genuine concern. What Ivan said really was unsurprising. It seemed to be the general opinion that Russians were all drunkards. The surprising part was that he was more or less confirming these negative stereotypes.

I guess stereotypes are based in truth, after all, Tino thought.

“But I suppose stopping for a drink before skiing might not be so good this time.”

The Finn gave a slightly exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Not unless you want to take a spill down the slope, and I’m not lugging you to the infirmary if you break something.” Returning his gaze forward and resuming a quicker walk, Tino continued, “You really should take it easy with the drinking. Life’s a lot more interesting when you’re sober enough to remember it.” He paused for a moment and chewed his chapped lip before adding, “Well, maybe not your life.” It wasn’t meant to sound as harsh as it probably did. The nation simply had trouble keeping his thoughts to himself at times.

After a few minutes, Tino let the chatter die down. It was hard work to maintain a conversation with the Soviet without turning to violence and he was quite exhausted. Fortunately, he was content to enjoy the sounds of boots crunching in snow, slightly labored breathing from the trek and the occasional car going by in town. The white noise was almost therapeutic for his frazzled nerves. And again there was the scenery. Oh, the scenery! The Finn would have almost been okay with lounging on the couch all day, warmed by the fire and watching the glistening, crystalline snow. Of course, he knew he’d be disappointed if he didn’t get out on the slopes at least once, so this was nice, too.

The two made it to the bottom of the hill and into the village after just a few minutes more.

The first to break the silence, the Finn gave a polite, “Welcome to Levi.” and gestured to the town with a ski pole. “It’s got the usual: ski shops, cafés, gas stations, bars, hotels, drug stores. The nearest hospital’s out of the resort in Kittilä, though, so try not to wreck too badly.”

Walking past the stores, a thought flashed through Tino’s mind. “Did your boss convert any markkas for you?” Secretly, he hoped not. He took pleasure in the thought of Ivan having to come to him to ask for money. Even more so, he liked the idea of telling Ivan no. It scared him a bit how vengeful he’d been feeling recently.

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that Ivan did not notice his former enemy’s sigh of exasperation at his comment. Not that he would have taken the sigh for what it was anyways. Russia had issues with reading people, and usually came to the wrong conclusions regarding their actions. Had he heard the sigh, he very likely might have accredited it to either Finland getting tired already from walking (an idea which would have surprised him since they both had a decent amount of stamina) or a strange sigh of happiness at the thought of the previously mentioned alcohol.

“Not unless you want to take a spill down the slope, and I’m not lugging you to the infirmary if you break something.”

The Soviet turned his head, turning his sights away from the blue toned ridge and back to Finland with a harsh glare. The feelings were entirely mutual. If Finland got mangled or broken due to some accident, he fully planned on leaving him laying in the snow and returning back to the cabin on his own. Maybe after swinging by the town and having some drinks. Finland was a nation, surely even if he was broken and mangled he would be able to find some way to get back eventually, and if not, then Ivan would have the cabin all to himself.

The thought made him suddenly hope more and more for the Finn to have an accident on the slopes. Preferably after he had taught Ivan how to ski. If the situation arose, he might even be able to help the accident along. His boss wouldn't need to know if he had any part in Finland having an unfortunate skiing accident.

“You really should take it easy with the drinking. Life’s a lot more interesting when you’re sober enough to remember it. Well, maybe not your life.”

His eyes narrowed and his smile vanished at the barbed insult. Who was Finland to suggest that his life was not interesting? In his own opinion, he led a far more eventful life than a nation like Finland-who wasn’t even a global power - did. And true, things had been stagnating as of late, and getting bad in his borders, but he convinced himself that it was not the reason he was drinking more than usual. No, he drank because he liked to, not because he was upset with his leaders and the problems in his borders.

“Are you implying my life is not as interesting as yours?” If looks could kill, Finland would have surely been dead. “What a silly idea, Finland. My life is probably far more interesting than yours. And I may drink, but I never get drunk enough to not remember things.” he lied. Finland surely didn’t need to know about those times when he had drank himself to the point of passing out and not remembering a thing when he woke up the next day.

The Russian went silent for a bit, staring hard and intently at his cabin-mate. Times like this, he missed the Winter War, and the ability to shoot anything Finnish on sight. It didn’t take them too long though before they reached the town Finland had been mentioning, and Ivan turned his eyes away from the other nation.

“Welcome to Levi. It’s got the usual: ski shops, cafés, gas stations, bars, hotels, drug stores. The nearest hospital’s out of the resort in Kittilä, though, so try not to wreck too badly.”

Russia's violet eyes immediately swept over the various shops with mild interest as they made their way past them. He didn’t plan on crashing, so not having a hospital nearby wouldn’t be a problem as far as he was concerned. Taking note of the locations of the bars might be essential, and the ski shop too in case he ended up ever losing his temper and busting one of his ski poles over Finland’s skull.

“Did your boss convert any markkas for you?”

Markkas? He considered the strange word for a moment before realizing that Finland was referring to the odd banknotes and coins his boss had given him. “Да.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his wallet and showed Finland the strange currency. “Your money looks so strange.” He was not sure how much his boss had actually given him, or how high the prices in Finland were, but at least he had something to use for those shots of vodka he was hoping to eventually get. Not being a local or used to the price system, he was a bit concerned that he would end up paying ridiculously unfair prices for things without ever noticing it. He knew the tourists in his own home often did.

“How far is the lift, Comrade?” he questioned the other nation, using the title "comrade" in a more mocking manner.

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that it chilled the already icy wind and chapped the parts of the Finn’s cheeks not covered by his ski cap, flushing them a bright pink. As he and Russia were walking by a shop with particularly reflective windows, he caught the rosy tint out of the corner of his eye. With his fair skin, it happened all the time, but it still annoyed him quite a bit. He didn’t want to appear to be blushing out of fear in front of Ivan. The Russian’s earlier scold of “Are you implying my life is not as interesting as yours? What a silly idea, Finland.” had not fazed Tino very much, though the glare that had accompanied it had bored its way right under Tino’s skin and made his heart skip a beat (but not enough to make me blush! he continued to convince himself.) He hadn’t even been looking at Ivan then; he didn’t have to in order to feel such a highly-concentrated amount of hate being directed at him. He could just sense it against his skin.

Nonetheless, he had managed to keep a straight face, certainly had not blushed due to embarrassment or fear and had mostly ignored Ivan’s following denials of, “My life is probably far more interesting than yours. And I may drink, but I never get drunk enough to not remember things.”

He looked down now as Russia gave a curt “Дa” and reached for his pocket. Although it was barely noticeable, Finland inched away from the larger man as his hand disappeared into his pocket and out of sight. Tino could just imagine Russia suddenly dropping his ski gear, whipping out a knife, breaking the blade off in his chest and leaving him there to die, his blood dying the pristinely colorless snow a deep red. Ivan lived with Belarus, so he had easy access to knives, right? Eyes locked on the Russian’s hand, Tino ran a check-list of ways that the equipment he was currently holding could be used to injure and disable the other, if need be, through his mind. Fortunately, all that Ivan pulled out was a wallet, complete with Finnish currency.

“Your money looks so strange.”

Finland wasn’t sure if this side note was supposed to be an insult of some sort or not, so he simply rolled his shoulders a bit in a shrug. Perhaps his money did look strange. He was used to it, so he couldn’t tell. He’d always thought it looked rather aesthetically pleasing.

“How far is the lift, Comrade?”

It disgusted Tino to hear that term in that particular voice. Far too many times on the battlefield had he heard it exchanged between Russian soldiers and he knew Ivan was using it mockingly. They would never be comrades, not even in times of relative peace such as this and regardless of what his boss might want.

He decided to retaliate with his own snide remark. “Tired already, oi, Kaveri? Don’t worry. There’s a T-bar lift not too far from here – just at the base of that hill,” he explained as he nodded in the direction of the nearest ridge. “The chair lift is further away, so I’m sure you don’t mind using this one.” With any luck, Finland thought with a grin so subtle even Sweden wouldn’t notice, Russia wouldn’t even manage staying upright on a T-bar lift. He’d probably get his skis crossed and tumble backwards over the bar and get ran over by the people coming up behind them. If he doesn’t snap the bar in half with his massive bulk first.
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This post is so full of fail. My bad. You can get them to the lift if you'd like.

[Russia]

The snow was so cold that it numbed some of the Russian’s initial curiosity as he examined all the shops they passed. Here they were heading to a lift to go to an even higher elevation-which would surely have even worse wind-chill- and already all he wanted to do was get out of the cold and lounge in front of a fire somewhere with some liquor.

“Tired already, oi, Kaveri? Don’t worry. There’s a T-bar lift not too far from here – just at the base of that hill.”

Apparently his mocking use of the word “comrade” had not gone unnoticed by Tino. The large blonde was not sure what exactly a “Kaveri” was, but it couldn’t have been anything good. He also was not thrilled with the Nordic’s implication that he was tiring. As if he had not walked far greater distances before. He would feel ashamed if he was tiring already after such a relatively short distance, when in times of war he had been able to go hours on end without any sort of rest. He was a nation after all, and with that came perhaps more endurance than any non-country could brag about.

Russia’s eyes shifted from the outline of the ridge, back to Tino. To his amusement, the other nation appeared to be blushing. Dismissing the idea that it was due to the chill, Ivan was all too quick to smile as he embraced the though that his former enemy was blushing in fear. Russia very much liked to see fear, be it in allies or enemies. It was a sign of respect and acknowledgment of his power by his way of thinking.

“The chair lift is further away, so I’m sure you don’t mind using this one.”

If the other man did fear him though, he had a bizarre way of showing it with his words. “I am not tired at all.” He informed Tino, staring at the other nation with an odd look of happiness that clashed with the fact that he had just been insulted mildly not long ago. He was far from pleased at the moment, but fantasizing about spearing Finland through with a ski pole was helping ease the annoyance somewhat.

Thinking about it, the Russian had no idea what a “T-bar lift” was, but he suspected it must resemble the other kinds he had seen. How different could lifts look from one another? No matter, any lift was fine by him. He loved heights, a passion that had really surfaced during the last World War and the Korean War. After having spent so much time in the cockpit of a Mig-15, the prospect of being lifted up a ridge did not sound frightening or intimidating at all to him. He had jumped out of planes at higher elevations than the lift would probably take him above the ground. Never mind the broken limb that had come with his last plane jumping experience.

The Soviet went silent as they made their way towards the area Finland had pointed out. Actions spoke louder than words when it came to revenge, and he was hopeful that the opportunity would present itself eventually to get back at Finland for the insinuations he had made.

Walking in silence, it did not take them too long to make it to what Ivan took to be the base of the lift. His eyes widened a bit in surprise. He had imagined the lift would go off the ground by a fair deal, but it didn’t seem to be the case here. With the shape of the lift, it was easy to see how it go it’s name though. He turned to Finland, a slightly puzzled look on his youthful face. “I thought lifts were supposed to look… different..” Images of the lifts he had laid eyes upon before came to mind, and they had not looked like these at all. He was guessing that the skiers has to sit on the bars? That looked very uncomfortable, and he wondered if Finnish people were all masochists on some level.

[Finland]

The snow was so cold that it prevented Tino from sprinting to the lift upon it coming into view. Having his arms loaded down didn’t help much, either. Between his frozen joints and lack of balance his arms normally would have provided, an attempt at running would surely have resulted in him taking a face-first fall into the snow, and as pretty as it was, he was certain it didn’t feel so lovely. Having Ivan laughing at him didn’t exactly sound favorable, either. Walking there would be fine, he decided.

Even so, he was thrilled to finally be getting down to business. For a brief moment, he wondered if he would be an effective teacher. Since his brothers had all learned the sport before him, he’d never had the opportunity to be an instructor to his fellow nations. I suppose it depends on if Russia’s a good student, he thought, looking at the hulking man behind him. The expression said man bore was a bit odd. Was that confusion?

“I thought lifts were supposed to look… different.”

Tino quirked an eyebrow at him before realizing that the Russian had likely never before seen a T-bar lift. It would look strange, he supposed, for someone who was expecting a chair lift. He kind of wanted to see Ivan attempt to mount it how he thought was appropriate. It would surely be wrong.

“Ah,” he breathed, nodding in understanding. “They’re easy to use, but we’ll get to that in a second. First we need to get you into your equipment so I can give you a basic rundown before you get up onto the hill.” He led the other to a small building near the terminal of the lift and plopped himself down onto a bench along the outside of one wall, placing his gear against the frozen ground. Straightaway, he began tugging at the laces of his shoes, motioning for the other to do the same.

“Getting your ski boots on right is really important,” he began, toeing off the first boot and beginning on the other. “Otherwise you’re going to have some pretty awful blisters tomorrow.” Now down to his socks, he popped open the buttons at the bottom of his pants and rolled them and his thermals up past his calf, pulling the wrinkles out of his socks. He took the first ski boot and slid his foot in, closing the clasps at the toe first and then the ones around his ankle. He did the same for the other boot, slid the legs of his pants down over them, re-buttoned them and then waited on Ivan before continuing with his lesson.

“Alright, now you need to get your skis locked on. Hopefully your boss gave you Alpine skis, or this could get a bit tricky.” The Finn was, of course, more advanced in the art of Nordic and Telemark skiing, but he seriously doubted he could teach Russia to free-heel ski or to ski cross country at this particular resort and in one day. Simple downhill techniques would be much easier, and hopefully Ivan would be less likely to throw a ski if they were locked on in two places. Not that it wouldn’t be funny if one of his skis went flying.

Standing, Tino stepped his left foot into the binding. With one hand placed against the wall behind him for balance, he mumbled, “Just press down with your toe and then your heel…” He gave a satisfied grin as the binding locked firmly into place. “Oh, and it doesn’t really matter here since we’re still on flat ground, but if your ski pops off after you fall down on the slope, make sure you put it back on with the ski perpendicular to the run and make sure you put the downhill ski on first. Otherwise, your ski’s going to run off from you and neither one of us wants to see you do a split.”

With one of his ski poles, Tino pressed down on the lever of his binding, popping it open and freeing his foot.

“I’m going to put our shoes in this locker. See if you can figure out how to get your skis on while I’m in there.”

With that, he grabbed up their shoes and scurried inside, leaving Ivan alone on the bench.