Page 37 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

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 andelves. 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.

Chapter 21: The Magic of Giving (Part 2)

Joy

As the party winds down, Grum finds me by the refreshment table. He’s shed the Santa costume, but the twinkle in his eye remains. He even winks at me for good measure.

“I have something for you.” He pulls out a small, wrapped package. The plaid paper is bunched and off-kilter, making it all the more special.

With trembling fingers, I unwrap it to reveal the beautiful bracelet from the bazaar, adorned with jade green stars. “Grum,” I breathe, “it’s beautiful. But how…?”

He grins, tusks gleaming. “I may have done a little shopping while you were taste-testingmellatons.”

Warmth fills my chest as he fastens it on my wrist. This orc has come so far—from Grinch to Santa, even requesting someone play “Jingle Bells” earlier. It’s more than I could have wished for.

“I love it. Thank you.” I reach up to kiss the star tattoo on his forehead. “The bracelet matches the star on your handsome face.”

A peculiar flush covers his cheeks. “So this is what orcs look like when they blush,” I tease.

“No! Absolutely not. I don’t blush. Ever.” His mock tantrum is adorable.

“Admit it, or I’ll call your friends over and ask–”

“Okay, okay. If you insist I’m blushing, I guess I am.”

I pepper his face with kisses, listing reasons: “For letting me be right… for being cute when you blush… for giving these kids an amazing time, for indulging my thirst for hot cocoa, for turning me onto the bestmellatonsin the zone, for—”

“Okay, Sleigh Belle. I get it.”

Emotions flit across his face before settling on that soft, affectionate look I’ve come to cherish.

“I have something for you too.” I hand him a carefully wrapped package.

Grum tears the paper with as much gusto as any of the children to reveal a leather-bound journal, its cover embossed with “From An’Wa to Earth: An Orc’s Journey.”

“I thought,” I explain softly, “you could write down your memories of home. Maybe share them someday. Help bridge our worlds.”

Grum traces the letters, eyes shining. “Joy, this is… perfect. Thank you.”

As we stand surrounded by twinkling lights and the party’s remnants, a sense of rightness washes over me. This is where I belong. With this community. With Grum.

He pulls me close, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Merry Christmas, my Tinsel Queen,” he rumbles.

I grab his arms tightly, floored by those two little letters. MY Tinsel Queen. He said I’m his. It means more than anything.

Snuggling into his embrace, I breathe in his comforting scent. “Merry Christmas, my Grinch.”

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