It was Christmas Eve. The holler woke to even more snow.

Thick white blankets had smothered the hills overnight, leaving the trees iced like sugared sweets and the war barn roof sagging under winter’s grin. Goblins whooped through the woods like their tails were on fire, which Ma noted was a pretty good sign the potion pot hadn’t frozen.

The fire crackled in the main cabin. Ma stood by the window in her robe, mug of cinnamon brew in hand, watching snowballs fly past like miniature meteors.

She sooned joined Pa on the porch, sipping spiked eggnog from carved wooden mugs, watching the cousins tumble around in a full blown snowball war. Snow flew through the air in wild arcs, some enchanted, some just pure chaos.

“Ten stars says Looty gets smacked square in the face within the minute,” Pa predicted.

“You’re on,” Ma grinned.

Just then, a shriek rose from the far end of the clearing. Jules had joined the fray, cloak flying behind her, arms glowing faint with spellwork as she launched a rapid-fire flurry of snowballs from nowhere. One after another smacked into Nickie, RG, and even poor Bacon.

“That’s cheatin’!” Ellie hollered, ducking behind the snowman fort.

“It ain’t cheatin’, it’s called efficiency,” Jules called back. “Try keepin’ up, mud-brains!”

“You conjured a freakin’ snowstorm, Jules!”

“Be quiet now, I’m just seasoning the battlefield.”

“Good lord, here we go,” Pa sighed. “Chaos will now reign.”

“Oh hush,” Ma gave his arm a playful smack. “She’s just trying to make things more magical for them.”

Snow flew. Goblins scattered, screaming and laughing, slipping across the icy clearing. Looty got walloped in the side of the head by a snowball that might’ve had a rune carved into it. He hit the snow with a thud and a moan.

Pa just sipped his eggnog with a wide grin. “That’s ten stars to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ma chuckled. “I’ll put it on your scroll.”

Somewhere behind the snow fort, Nickie whispered, “Dare you to hit Pa.”

“You hit him!”

“No way. You hit him!”

A snowball flew. It hit the post right beside Pa’s shoulder with a wet thwap. He froze in disbelief, eyes narrowing slowly.

“They did not just do that…”

Another snowball came sailing and hit his boot. Silence fell.

Pa stood, slow as a storm rolling in. “Alright, y’all wanna play.” His boots thumped especially heavy down the porch steps.

The cousins scattered like hens. But not fast enough.

JT let out a shriek as Pa caught the back of his coat. He hoisted the hollering goblin under one arm and marched straight to the snowy igloo the cousins had built earlier.

“Nonono I didn’t throw it!”

“Doesn’t matter who. Somebody’s paying.” Pa stalked toward the makeshift igloo. It looked peaceful. Untouched. A perfect snow dome.

Until Pa dropped JT right on top of it like a bag of potatoes. The igloo collapsed like a bad soufflé, and JT yelped as he slid down into the heap. Then Pa started piling snow over him. Methodical, cold, and calm. All that could be seen was a pair of boots kicking wildly and muffled screeching.

“Gotta learn the lesson,” Pa said, voice even as he packed a final scoop. “I always strike back harder.” He turned and strolled back toward the porch, smug as ever.

Ma stood on the porch as Pa approached, arms crossed. “You gonna give him hypothermia.”

Pa looked up, satisfied grin on his face. “Stop worrying, Witchy. They’re already diggin’ him out.”

Sure enough, RG and Krypto were hauling JT out of the snowbank by his boots.

After the snowball fight wore out their arms and their better judgment, the goblins dragged out broken sleds, feed bin lids, and even flattened wash tubs and made for the far hill. From the porch, wrapped in a patchwork quilt, Ma and Pa watched the chaos unfold.

“They’re gonna break bones for sure,” Ma muttered.

“They’ll bounce,” Pa replied, raising his mug. “You wanna join ‘em? We can ride a sled together.”

“No way,” Ma exclaimed. “I’d rather stay in one piece, thank you.”

“Would be fun,” Pa prodded.

“No.”

Jules stood halfway up the slope, arms lifted, adding magical flares to every run. As each sled hit a bump, her enchantments flung the goblins higher than gravity intended, sending them screaming through the air like panicked fireworks.

“Wheee – AAAAAAAAH!”

“I saw my whole life flash before me!”

“Do it again, Jules!”

One especially bold launch sent Krypto sailing straight into the branches of an old hickory. He stuck there with a whump, hanging sideways, sled dangling by a rope from his boot.

The hill went quiet.

“You alive up there?” Nickie called.

“Think so. Might be part squirrel now.”

The goblins gathered beneath the tree, squinting up.

“We could cut it down.”

“No! Just climb it, dummy!”

“Use a spell?”

“You wanna be the one to tell Ma we turned Krypto into a snowball?”

They eventually rigged a rope system using sled straps and bacon grease (Bacon, for the record, did not approve), and lowered him back down, cheering when his boots hit snow.

“That’s it,” Ma muttered, eyes wide. “I ain’t got the patience nor the poultices for tree extractions.”

“They’ll heal,” Pa said beside her, patting her knee. “Just let them be.”

She tucked her feet under the blanket and leaned against his shoulder, both of them watching the madness unfold with a mixture of amusement and dread.

“They’re gonna break something,” she muttered again.

Later that evening while the Yule log burned, they held the gift exchange.

Some goblins brought handmade crafts. Others wrapped stolen goods. Nickie gifted a charcoal drawing of Pa in a Santa suit, belt raised like he was about to settle a score. Ellie Mae gave Ma a spoon carved from moonwood. Lemons, trying to make amends for his mistake during war, handed out little carved wooden animals.

Ma and Pa emerged from the cabin dressed as Mrs. Claus and Santa, Ma beaming in red velvet and Pa scowling beneath his beard.

Behind her, Pa grumbled as he adjusted his Santa coat. “Whose idea was this again?”

“Yours, technically,” Ma smirked, pinning the white fluff trim along her own Mrs. Claus shawl.

“No, ma’am. I agreed to hand out gifts. I did not agree to jingle bells on my damn boots.”

Outside, a goblin screeched, “WHEN DO WE GET TO SIT ON SANTA’S LAP AND TELL HIM WHAT WE WANT?”

Pa stuck his head out the door. “Not this Santa, you don’t.”

“Bah, he’s the Grinch today,” Ellie Mae told everyone.

Ma called out sweetly. “Santa’s grumpy ‘cause he has to pull an all-nighter.

Pa tugged on his beard. “Stuffin’ stockings. Tinkering siege weapons with instructions written in Elvish. Wrapping crossbows without trigger locks. Ain’t no cookies left either.”

“Maybe he’d be jollier if he didn’t mutter like a curse jar.” Nickie noted.

“Maybe I’d be jollier if y’all didn’t act like rabid raccoons on moon pies,” he shot back, but there was the tiniest smirk hiding in his beard.

The goblins lined up for their small Christmas Eve gifts and peppermint sticks, snickering, shouting thanks, and tossing snowballs when no one was looking. Hot cocoa was in abundance as they laughed and sang Christmas songs around the firepit.

By nightfall, the holler had gone quiet again. Snow blanketed the trees, and the fire circle flickered low. Pa slumped in his seat, sipping his moonshine. Ma curled beside him, thick quilt wrapped around her shoulders. “You think visions of sugar plums are dancing in their goblin heads?” she asked Pa.

“Probably coal. Cuz that’s what they all deserve.”

Ma nudged him. “Oh, come on. They’re not that bad.”

He looked at her. “Weren’t you the one just a few days ago saying you were gonna toss everyone outta the holler?”

Ma sniffed innocently. “I don’t recall that at all.”

“We still got all those goddamn stockings to fill.” Pa complained

“I’ve got a special gift for you, Santa,” she told him mischievously.

“That so?” He looked straight into the fire, expression unreadable. “You gonna sit on Santa’s lap?”

Ma giggled. “Got my eye on Santa’s belt.”

He nudged her, but his smirk gave him away. “Behave.” Then, after a pause, asked again, “You wanna sit on Santa’s lap?”

“Can’t spoil your present, now.” Then she let her head rest against his shoulder, both of them watching the snow settle like a spell over the holler.

Christmas Morning Chaos

When the cousins were finally allowed into the war barn just before dawn, they tore into their stockings like wild hogs.

Each goblin’s stocking held:

• Mini elixir potions (homemade by Ellie but labeled Jules-approved with a skull stamp)
• A charm-buffed gear rune with an enchantment from Ma to prevent misfires… mostly.
• A new enchanted pet egg, glowing faintly. No one knew what it would hatch into.
• And one random, ridiculous item, like a sharpened icicle dagger, invisibility gum, or a scroll that just screamed when unrolled.

Under the tree sat a battered sleigh full of new siege parts and shiny troop upgrades. Jules claimed the sleigh for herself immediately and hexed the runners to hover.

By sunrise, the war barn was a disaster. Wrapping scraps stuck to goblin feet like enchanted barnacles. Nickie had somehow gotten herself tangled in ribbon and was being slowly unwound by Ellie Mae. RG and Krypto were sword-fighting with empty wrapping paper tubes.

Alexis screamed from atop a wobbly stack of shipping crates: “I hereby declare this land Goblokistan!”

“Not if Operation Wrapping Paper Avalanche gets you first!” hollered Looty, rolling down the middle of the war barn inside a barrel with Jay rolling him to keep momentum.

They hadn’t even noticed the real gifts yet, crossbows, upgraded spell jars, new siege gear, enchanted pets blinking awake in enchanted crates.

Nope. They were too busy building entire forts from the discarded boxes.

Ma sipped her cider and grinned. “See that? We could’ve saved gold and just given ‘em empty boxes.”

Pa leaned back in his chair, surveying the goblin mayhem. “Fancy siege weapons, spell charms, crossbows… and they’re happier playin’ goblin-in-the-box.”

Ma tilted her head. “But they’re all still little bundles of joy, right?”

Pa didn’t look at her right away. Just nodded toward the mantle, three full tiers of handmade wooden shelves lined with nearly 50 stockings, each one hand labeled in goblin runes. “Best thing about kids is makin’ ‘em. After that, it’s all noise and nonsense.”

Ma shook her head. “Don’t make me bring out my spoon on Christmas.”

“I’m just sayin’, we don’t need no more.”

Jules overheard. “Start pulling out!” she said dryly, walking past with a candy cane in her mouth.

“Not your business,” Pa told her.

She leaned in close. “That’s what the Nest is for.”

That night, after the chaos calmed and most of the goblin cousins had collapsed in forts made of boxes and ribbon nests, Pa sat on the porch with Ma, one blanket between them.

“Next year, we’re leavin’ ‘em all coal.” Pa announced.

Ma just smiled and tucked her hand into his. “No, we won’t.”

He sighed. But he didn’t disagree.

Because beneath the gruff, beneath the belt, beneath the quiet leadership ,Pa Goblin really did love his ridiculous, wild, snowy clan. Even if he’d never say it out loud.

After a long moment, he added softly, “You keep ‘em all stitched together, y’know.”

Ma didn’t answer right away. “I try,” she said finally. “Some days I feel more like the thread than the needle.”

Pa gave a quiet murmur of agreement, then looked over at her with the faintest smirk. “Reckon that makes me the patchwork, then.”

She laughed under her breath. “You’re more like the quilt. Thick, grumpy, and always runnin’ warm.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Keep talkin’, I’ll throw you in the snow.”

She nudged him with her foot. “Might be worth it.”

“Merry Christmas, Witchy.”

She squeezed his hand underneath the blanket as they continued to sip their spiked cocoa and watch the snow quietly continue to fall.