Once upon...

Nuuk, Greenland. In the warmth of a peaceful home, Maren happily squeezed the little teddy bear she had received from her father. He had named the bear Ursi, and the name was well-loved. According to Maren’s father, it meant "bear" in a very ancient language that everyone had long since forgotten, or almost everyone.

They soon became inseparable. They played together constantly, and Maren took him everywhere; they even visited Europe once, though Maren didn't know that the little bear had been there before. But he remembered.

He had been a member of the Austrian Mountain Rescue—or as his comrades called it, the Plushie Commando. He was a charity bear, after all. He spent a long time waiting in the display case with the others before his turn finally came.

No, they weren't sent to children in need, though they saw a few of them wandering the hallways. Sometimes the little ones would even press their faces against the glass, but the bears could not help them.

They could only be obtained through donations.

In the end, an elderly gentleman took him from the rescuers. Although he never actually played with the bear, he placed him right in the center of his desk. For many, many days, Ursi sat there, listening and watching. He realized the man had no time for games; he was always busy, with so many people coming to see him, and he tried to help every single one of them. Occasionally, someone would give Ursi a gentle pat, but for the most part, he just sat there steadfastly, smiling at everyone.

At night, he kept watch over the office and waited for the morning; during those dark hours, he liked to imagine that while the man was away, he was the one helping others.

One day, the man did not appear, nor the day after. It was a sad discovery for Ursi: he was powerless to help anyone.

Someone cleared everything off the desk, and he was tossed into a box among various trinkets and stationery. How he made his way from that box to Greenland, he never knew—but looking back, he was glad he did.

Maren loved the little bear, and the bear loved her dearly in return. They shared many tea parties together; and though the girl never actually poured anything into his tiny cup, he always happily played along, pretending to drink. Sometimes, even her father would give him a gentle pat, telling Ursi to take good care of himself—since, as he’d joke, there were no other polar bears left living in Nuuk.

Years came and went, and one morning, as he stretched upon waking, Ursi slipped off the edge of Maren’s bed. He soon realized there was no way for him to climb back up. Yet, he felt no worry; he knew Maren would save him. It had happened many times before—he had nearly been lost, but the girl had always found him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed beneath the bed—months, or perhaps even years—but with so much dust clinging to his white fur, he could have easily passed for a grizzly. Then, suddenly, something appeared in the shadows under the bed; he grabbed onto it quickly, and in an instant, he was swept out.

It was Maren. The bear waited for the warm little hands he remembered. But the hands he saw were trembling, and far too big. He wanted to cry out to her with joy, but he realized she could no longer hear him.

She was much taller than he remembered, dressed all in black. When she saw him, she sat on the edge of the bed and wept and wept.

It was the day after the funeral.

Ursi couldn’t comfort her as he used to when she scraped her knee in the garden or when the boys teased her. The poor bear could no longer even find his voice.

In the end, he was placed in a box once more and found himself in a new house with Maren. But his joy was short-lived; he ended up in a dark, forgotten corner at the back of an old chest of drawers. From there, he only caught rare, distant glimpses of Maren whenever she searched for something.

Time in the drawer did not pass. It settled.

Like dust on his fur.

Life in the chest was terribly dull; at first, he wanted to explore every inch of it, but eventually, he just lay in the corner and waited.

He was beginning to think things would stay this way until the end of time when Maren’s hands suddenly appeared near him. But before he could try to cry out or catch her fingers, they were pulled back.

Hello! Someone greeted him from right beside him. It was another little bear, who told him that Maren was now Lars’s wife, and that she had come to celebrate someone named Valentine. Ursi had never heard of anyone called Valentine before, but he was glad for the company.

The new bear’s name was Barbie. Ursi was finally no longer alone; the timeless waiting was replaced by conversations that stretched late into the night. Barbie had been born in a factory in China and had countless siblings; she was brown, about half as tall as Ursi, and she was always smiling.

They were very happy together, and soon they had forgotten all about Maren, Lars, and everyone else who didn’t live inside the chest of drawers.

Occasionally, of course, Maren’s hands would appear, but she never reached for them — though by then, they didn't really try to wave anymore either. On one such occasion, Maren placed a small jar into the chest.

HONEY!

How wonderful it was, how impossibly sweet—the finest thing in the whole world.

Could it be that she hadn't forgotten them after all? They were overjoyed; every bear knows that honey is life itself.

At first, they made a game of it, competing to see who was more skillful at this or that, and the winner would claim the honey for the day.

At first they raced to win the honey.

Later they raced so they wouldn't lose it.

They became afraid that the honey might pass to the other, and there were times when they didn't speak to each other for days.

Two little bears, but only this one jar of honey—it just wasn't right. Perhaps Maren had only been thinking of one of them? Had she intended the honey for only one? But which one?

Barbie told him that before she ended up in the chest of drawers, she had seen a large bear in a glass display case. They decided that one night, they would find him and ask for his advice.

When the house was empty, they managed to scramble out of the chest and found the old, great bear in his glass cabinet. As it turned out, he liked to be called simply 'Grandpa.' He said he was so old that he had seen many grandfathers come and go, until at last, he had become one himself.

After they presented the impossible equation of two little bears and one jar of honey, and showed him their treasure, Grandpa just sat there. He looked at them for a long time — long enough for their smiles to fade.

"Do you wish to grow? Then I must break your honey."

"To truly accept one another, you must learn to share."

The little bears didn’t quite understand, but they certainly didn’t want Grandpa to break their honey, so they hurried away in a fright.

But Grandpa called out after them. "Wait!"

He reached out and offered them another jar of honey. "Stay just the way you are."

Overjoyed, the little bears thanked him and scurried back to the chest of drawers. Now they had two jars of honey, and they went on playing and talking happily.

Grandpa kept smiling long after they had gone. He thought of little Lars, and so many other children from years gone by, and for a brief moment, he felt like just a little teddy bear again.