Yaaroghkh couldn’t have realised this - as he worked as a janitor and not on the frontlines of Santa’s workshop - but this was not Cindy’s first rodeo with the whimsical and adorable elves. (Though whether she knew that herself is another question.)

I take us back now to the mists of prehistory, which is to say a little over fourteen years ago. It had been three months since the six year old Cindy had seen Caedes off on his quest for righteous vengeance, but the injustice still pulsed through her, and as she stared at the paper on which she was to write Santa a letter she thought not of the toys, dresses, or games which she had asked Santa for last year, but of what she could ask for that would best help her friend.

Long she thought, and hard she thought, and at last she had thought enough, and put her pen to paper. You see, she knew her new friend would need some weapon if he wanted to get justice, but obviously no normal sword or gun would be enough to fight the farmers (she hadn’t quite been able to say ‘cultivators’) and their magic powers. Obviously then he needed a super duper magic weapon that could kill farmers. This, of course, was not easily brainstormed, but she did her level best. And this was the result:

Dear Santa,

This year I have been a very good girl. I have eaten all the food that daddy gave me, and have not given the brussel sprouts to the dog, even though they are very gross. My friend, Caedes, has also been a very good boy, but farmers set his house on fire and hurt all his friends. This was very mean of them. They should get coal in their stockings.

I will not ask for gifts for myself, but please send my friend thermonoo thermonew thermonuclair thermonucleer thermonuclear hampster stuffers so that he can get the farmers to say sorry for hurting his friends.

Love,

Cindy

P.S. What do the reindeer eat in the north pole? I always wondered.

Now our readers need not be unduly surprised that she was able to spell all this correctly, for as Caedes has assured me she is practically perfect in every way and therefore wouldn’t have made spelling mistakes, even as a six year old trying to conjugate irregular verbs in the past tense. (She also got her father to help write the letter with her, to be super duper sure that the elves could understand it, but this was incidental because she would never misspell anything in the first place.)

Her father had, it is to be admitted, been slightly horrified when his lovely daughter had asked him to help her write Santa for weapons of mass destruction, but once he heard that said ‘weapons’ were thermonuclear hampster stuffers his worries disappeared into thin air, for obviously no such thing existed and therefore his daughter couldn’t receive any.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

***

Tiddlywhiskers the elf read the letter before him, rage building in his √6i hearts. How dare those evil farmers harm this poor girl and her friend! He’d never trusted them, with all their brussel sprouts and carrots and artichokes. Always looking for opportunities to force gross and icky veggies on unsuspecting, innocent children, so far as he was concerned. And here was the PROOF!

He called the other elves together, and told them what had happened. Indignation spread through the ranks of elves, righteous fury at the evil farmers who dared to harm little girls and burn their friend’s house down. It spread fast, but quietly, for Santa had many annoying rules like:

No Giving Small Children Weapons Of Mass Destruction

No Bringing Dead People Back To Life

Giving Small Children Cultivation Manuals Counts As Weapons, and

Do Not Give Children The Candy, Treats, Or Snacks Meant For Elves.

So they had to be very, very quiet. Quietly, a conference was held, and the conclusion was simple: not only would they give her poor wronged friend thermonuclear hampster stuffers, but they would do even better.

Some, of course, might object that there are no such things as ‘thermonuclear hampster stuffers’ and therefore that elves could not create such a thing, but this simply shows a lack of vision on their part. From an elf’s point of view, the so-called “Laws of Physics” were merely guidelines, more like “the Force of Habit.” There was no reason for it to snow anymore than there was for cheesecakes to fall out of the sky (as often happens in elfland, when someone wants cheesecake), and to ask for thermonuclear hampster stuffers was no more an improbability than to ask for dolls or sashaying rocks or toy trucks or a fire breathing piano.

That thermonuclear hampster stuffers was an impossibility was no problem; that the very phrase ‘thermonuclear hampster stuffers’ was semantically meaningless bothered them not in the slightest. She had asked for thermonuclear hampster stuffers, and she would receive thermonuclear hampster stuffers.

***

Cindy’s father stared down in horror at the letter in his hands. It had come with a package for his daughter, a package containing several cute dresses, a wickedly sharp broadsword, and…an entire pile of thermonuclear hampster stuffers. He didn’t know how he knew they were thermonuclear hampster stuffers; he still wasn’t altogether sure what a thermonuclear hampster even was. Nonetheless, there they were, and nothing he could do would disprove their existence. (Could you even return a present to Santa Claus? He didn’t know.) The letter went as follows:

Dear Cindy,

I have received your letter. Those mean farmers! How dare they hurt you and your friend. Please take these thermonuclear hampster stuffers and use them to get the farmers to say sorry. They do not count as a weapon because they do not exist. I have also included a broadsword; if any of the farmers really don’t want to say sorry, use it to stab them in the foot. It also does not count as a weapon, because it is just a toy. A really sharp toy.

Sincerely,

Santa Claus

(NOT the Elves)

P.S. If your father complains, tell him that you have been a good girl. And also that these are not weapons, so they don’t count.

P.S.S. The reindeer are very fond of meatloaf, with a side of fried mushrooms. They also enjoy a good cointreau. On Sundays they eat steak, with cognac.