Every goblin in Gibberville liked Frostfell time a lot
Grimagus hated Gifting Day! That whole Frostfell time!
When gifting and gabbing and giggling gave cheer.
It could be he thought his own gifts weren’t quite right.
It could be, mayhaps, that his funds were too tight.
But the reason most likely – and let us be blunt –
Was the horrible youth he had spent as a runt.
He thought of the times when he was quite so small
That other Gigglegibbers called him a Goofball.
Grimagus moped in the corner or they tossed him around
And he peeped not a word; he would not make a sound.
His lunch coin would fall from his pockets with ease
As the other Gigglegibbers taunted and teased.
Though now he is rich and owns the whole town
Those were sad times when they called him a clown.
Grimagus grew into a mischievous teener
And wider and richer and quite a lot meaner.
Over time, Grimagus outgrew being a chump.
In fact, all the Gigglegibbers now called him the Grump.
He was grumpy and snarly and bossy most days
Especially during the goblins’ few holidays.
Holiday time always made the Grump bleak.
He remembered those days when he was young and weak.
And the festive time he hated, hated most of all
Was Frostfell time, when folks tall and small
When folks young and old, and folks far and near
Would exchange little presents and be of good cheer.
“They’re buying their presents,” he said now with a growl.
“Gifting Day is tomorrow! That day, oh, most foul!”
HE pounded his fist and he cried with a sneer,
“There will be NO Gifting Day! Not no-how, this year!”
He thought of the elves, with their boxes and bows.
He thought of them singing and twinkling their toes.
The thought of those elves made him quite sneery.
They were chipper and sparkly and impossibly cheery.
“They’ve never been sad, never gone without gifts…”
“And that is something I simply must fix.”
“I’ll stop Frostfell time!” his eyes glinted with glee.
“I’ll start in the cities! I’ll make them all flee!”
The Grump plotted how he could bag up the goods
That were sure to bring Frostfell time cheer to the ‘hoods.
“I’ll take all the feasts and baubles and toys”
“That were meant for all the good girls and boys!”
The Grump found himself empty boxes and bags.
He then bundled up in some tatters and rags.
And he raced through the villages. He races through the ‘hoods.
He swiped and he stole and he took what he could.
He took the wrapped presents. He took the cooked feasts.
The Grump even took the pies of minced meats!
And as he was leaving, his sack bulging with stuff,
The adventurers shouted, “Enough is enough!”
“We know you’re unhappy because of the past”
“When the other Gigglegibbers made you an outcast.”
They gathered around him and he braced for a fight.
“Don’t be mad!” said one. “We will put the past right.”
“Though you were put down and all your presents got broke,”
“Is that a reason to take from innocent folk?”
Snarled the Grump, “Do not judge my sad childhood.”
“But,” said one tiny elf, “You used to be good.”
And deep down inside, the Grump felt himself sway
He had once been good; what had made him this way?
The Grump stared at the small group and realized at last
That they weren’t being mean; they were all just downcast.
And he knew deep inside he was no Frostfell-hater!
He’d hidden his heart like a prestidigitator!
He’d give back the presents. He’d give back the feasts.
He’d even return all the pies of minced meats!
The littlest elf extended her hand and invited the goblin to visit her land.
“Come stay with us!” said the elf, “We’ll help you stay true!”
And that’s exactly what