“Over here Lil!” Figgy pointed to a stack of toilet paper almost as high as the Christmas tree.
Lil laughed and lobbed another roll over to Figgy. “Here you go!”
Nim watched their antics, scowling.
“You might as well just accept it, Nim,” said Glitter. “He’s here to stay. At least until you get better.”
“She doesn’t have to look like she’s having so much fun,” Nim grumbled.
“Stop being such a Scrooge, Nim.”
Nim had never, ever in all his 124 years been called a Scrooge. He felt sick thinking about it. “I–I’m not being—”.
“Oh yes you are. Sitting over here grumbling, groaning and grimacing. You might as well say ‘Ba Humbug’ and be done with it.”
Nim bristled. “I…”. He bowed his head, ashamed of his behavior. “You’re right, Glitter. I’ve lost the Christmas Spirit.”
“Then get it back. And fast.”
“Almost done, Figgy!” Lil handed him a pair of popsicle sticks and wooden skewers. “Your skis and sticks.”
“Wow Lil, these are great!” The skis had his name and were decorated in red and green.
“Hey guys,” Nim said in a falsely cheery voice. “Need a little extra Christmas Spirit?”
Nim came zipping down what was supposed to be a ski lift, but what turned out more like a zip line. He was going way too fast.
“Nim, be careful!” yelled Lil.
Both elves watched, horrified as Nim slammed to the floor, twisting his already injured leg.
“Oops,” said Figgy.