20. Chapter 20 The Magic of Giving

Chapter 20: The Magic of Giving

J oy

The community center is alive with excitement as bursts of laughter explode over the chords of “Feliz Navidad.” Cinnamon and pine scents mingle in the air, stirring memories of holidays past with Mom and Dad. For the first time in a decade, those memories bring warmth instead of sadness. I can’t help but glance at a certain grumpy orc, knowing he’s part of the reason.

Fatigue creeps in when I’m not busy. I doubt I got more than an hour or two of sleep last night, or rather, early this morning. But my sleepless night was filled with love, and my whirlwind of energy this morning was spent calling elders and organizing this multicultural extravaganza. The energy in the room is infectious, pushing away the fatigue.

“Joy!” Tyler calls, waving from the cookie decorating station. “This is incredible!”

Beaming, I take in the winter wonderland we’ve created. Twinkling lights, garlands, and ten trees laden with ornaments transform the space. In one corner, the frost painting booth catches my eye—a nod to orc traditions that Grum mentioned.

“Step right up, kiddos!” Thornn’s booming voice carries across the room. “Learn the ancient orc art of frost painting!”

Children crowd around, human and Other alike, as Thornn demonstrates how to mix special pigments that shimmer like frost. Soon, small hands are creating icy masterpieces, giggling as the paint sparkles on their skin, just as Grum described.

Near the entrance, Bold and Courage stand guard, their fierce wolven appearance softening each time a wide-eyed child approaches to touch their fur. They’ve set up a small area where they’re teaching kids the wolven tradition of “pack howling”—a harmonious (well, mostly) chorus of howls meant to welcome the winter.

In a quiet corner, an elderly naga wrapped in colorful blankets is surrounded by a captivated audience. Her silvery scales glint as she weaves tales of the old country, passing down stories that bridge worlds.

A group of minotaurs leads a “Stamping Ceremony,” their rhythmic hoof beats creating vibrations that ripple through the floor. Human and Other children alike join in, stomping and giggling.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Emma says, appearing at my side with Sarah. “Look at all these happy faces.”

And happy they are. Children, human and Other, dash about, marveling at the mountain of presents. Parents chat amiably, the interspecies tensions I’d feared have melted away.

Marcy rushes up to me, her eyes shining. “Joy! You won’t believe what Sam got me!” She pulls back her hair, showing off a pair of stunning earrings.

“Oh, Marcy, they’re beautiful!” I gush, genuinely happy for her.

Sam appears behind her, his expression sheepish. “Joy, I… I want to apologize again for the whole truck incident. If I hadn’t stopped for those blasted earrings, none of this would have happened.”

I wave him off. “Sam, seriously, don’t worry about it. Everything worked out better than we could have hoped.” I gesture around the room. “Just look at all this!”

Thornn approaches, frowning. “We’ve got a problem. Kam’s got a nasty cough. He can’t play Santa.”

My heart sinks. “But the kids are expecting Santa. What are we going to do?”

“I’ll do it.”

I whirl to find Grum behind me. Did that offer to play Santa just burst from his mouth?

“You?” I can’t hide my surprise. “But you hate Christmas.”

He shrugs, a sexy smile slashing across his face. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Besides, we can’t let these kids down, can we?”

Warmth floods my chest. I’ve fallen hard for this orc, and I’m not even trying to deny it anymore.

Twenty minutes later, Grum emerges in full Santa regalia, his green skin barely visible beneath the white beard and red suit. The children erupt in cheers as my Grinch transforms into the jolliest Santa I’ve ever seen.

He hoists a little orc girl onto his lap, his deep voice gentle as he asks what she wants for Christmas. Her eyes light up as she describes her dream bike, and Grum listens with rapt attention.

As I watch him interact with child after child, human and Other alike, my heart melts and my ovaries tremble. He’s going to be an amazing father someday.

Uh oh. I’m so completely gone for him that I can’t help but picture what our cute little hybrid babies will look like. I guess it’s time to come clean about how I feel about him.

The gift-giving begins, filling the room with tearing paper and delighted gasps. Each child, regardless of species, receives multiple presents. Joy spreads like wildfire, infecting everyone in its path.

As the celebration continues, Christmas takes on a new meaning for me. It’s not just about trees and mistletoe and Santa and elves. It’s about family and traditions and… love. It doesn’t matter how you celebrate, but who you celebrate with—and how you feel about them.

Grum finds me in the crowd, his eyes twinkling. “You did it, Tinsel Toes,” he says softly. “Somehow, you brought us all together.”

Tears prick my eyes, but this time they’re happy ones. “We did it,” I correct him. “All of us.

As I look around at the joyful chaos—children frost painting alongside orcs, humans joining the minotaur stamping, Others and humans listening to centuries-old naga tales—I know that this is just the beginning. We’ve created something magical here, a true blending of cultures and traditions.

As I look up at Grum, seeing the love and pride shining in his eyes, I know that our own tradition is just beginning.