Frostbeard’s Frozen Fury
“Scoop now understood that fear and doubt melted away when met with steadfast faith in fellowship and love.”
The night sky flashed, and thunder rumbled across the Caribbean Sea as Scoop tightened the rigging on the single sail of his tiny raft.
Specifically, Scoop fashioned this raft from a large beer bottle cap he found on the beach, with an affixed toothpick mast and sail he crafted from newspaper sealed with paraffin. Scoop had named his modest vessel The Bottlecap with affection and relished every salt-sprayed adventure it could sail. But tonight, Scoop worried if this storm would prove too difficult for the mighty Bottlecap.
Nearby, his first mate, Percival, gripped the mast, his emerald feathers tousled by the building winds.
“Batten down yer feathers!” Scoop called over the roaring gusts and sea spray. “Holly be brewin’ up a tantrum tonight!”
Percival chirped and peered up at the ominous clouds churning above like a witch’s brewing pot, the telltale signs of the seasonal hurricane known as Holly, which legend said would appear when provocation stirred across the islands.
As lightning cracked, the first fat raindrops pelted down.
“Ride her steady now!” Scoop yelled, fluttering the sail to catch the gusts as the tiny raft rose and fell over swelling waves. He grinned despite their predicament; he relished the thrill of battling the elements. Percival crouched low, using his beak to adjust the sail ropes while bracing his claws against the slick metal of the hull, returning Scoop’s fiery enthusiasm with his stoic focus.
The two had survived many tricky storms since their friendship first formed some months back on a fateful stretch of debris-strewn sand. Through wit and grit (plus the occasional accidental flutter overboard from Percival), they had established quite the reputation as seafaring comrades around the islands.
That is why, when Scoop heard from some mumbling mariners at the Sleepy Parrot pub about a nefarious bounty hunter called Blackheart Benny spotted near Turtle Key, he convinced a dubious Percival to race Benny to whatever hidden hoard he sought.
For two sun-soaked days, the baby pirate and parakeet searched for the elusive bounty hunter, following rumors and clues like a high-stakes treasure hunt across jungle islands and hidden grottoes. Now, as fate would have it, the pair found themselves caught in the grip of the tempestuous Holly herself.
As the storm strengthened, they fought to stay afloat amidst a wall of wind and rain. Shrieking gusts mocked their courage.
“Crackin’ crabs, this be some squall!” Scoop bellowed over the din after an enormous wave nearly toppled him. Righting himself, he flashed a defiant grin at the black sky in true swashbuckling fashion, even as they spun about like a leaf in whitewater rapids.
“Quite!” Percival squawked back. “Let’s hope this hex moves on before Benny beats us to those pilfered riches!”
Their treasure-tracking mission seemed distant as primordial forces threatened to smash their tiny vessel to bits. The storm tossed them about like a toy for what seemed like hours, though the cloak of night and driving sheets of rain made it impossible to determine the direction or distance.
Scoop clung to the bucking mast as waves crested higher, doing his best to secure their gear while keeping them pointed into the pounding gusts. Trusty Percival gripped his favorite perch atop Scoop’s newspaper tricorne hat, buffeted wings stretched to steady his captain as they fought on amidst the tempest.
Just when it seemed they would lose their desperate battle and sink beneath the surge, a mammoth wave smashed across their deck.
And darkness overtook them.
When Scoop peeled open his crusted eyes, all was a blur of grey shadows, his head tender from where something hard clubbed him.
Blinking slowly, the shapes began taking form through the fog. Jagged chunks of ice rocked in the swell around Scoop, the surfaces covered in webs of frost. Some shards appeared newly calved, frothing with entrapped air that whistled faintly as they rolled. Massive icy boulders breached nearby, craggy peaks emerging like miniature mountains rending themselves free from the ocean depths. All lay motionless under the endless muted sky, with no break in the frozen seascape hinting at which way salvation may lie.
“Perci — ” Scoop croaked, wincing at the sudden sharp pain the word triggered in his skull.
A bedraggled flutter and flash of emerald heralded the parakeet, landing unsteadily near Scoop’s elbow. “Here, sir. Although, I confess I know not whe — “
Through the dissipating mist, a dark silhouette emerged, causing Percival to let out a startled squawk mid-sentence. An enormous galleon materialized, its frost-rimmed boards and sails appearing to be carved from glacial ice, while skeletal masts creaked under elaborate caps of jagged icicles. Harsh voices cut through the arctic air in a language that was strange yet rigidly commanding.
Before either could react, a net launched from the ghostly ship, enveloping them both even as they struggled against the coarse bindings. Someone heaved them upwards to swing over the ship’s icy deck, toes numb and feathers frigid in the biting chill. Scoop’s teeth chattered as he took in the crew of two dozen or so figures glaring up at them. They seemed to be small, stocky men dressed in ragged fur-lined coats and brandishing blades or hooks of sharpened ice.
The tallest among them stepped forward. His pale eyes gleamed beneath a snowy beard crusted with frost.
“Well. What warm and tender morsels be this?” Sinister chuckles echoed amongst the crew as Scoop shivered beneath the piercing cold eyes of this rugged stranger. Their voyage had gone from tropical to terrible in the blink of an icy gale.
“Welcome aboard the Frostfang, me hearties!” the frosty-bearded stranger bellowed, eliciting another round of sinister laughter from his ragtag crew, all armed with blades and hooks of ice.
“I be Captain Frostbeard of this frozen frigate. And who might ye be to trespass so boldly into my domain?”
His wintry eyes weighed upon them with hunger. Scoop hugged his arms tight, rubbing his hands vigorously up and down as Frostbeard leaned closer. Goosebumps prickled his skin. The ice crystals edging Frostbeard’s furs glistened with hinting menace that made Scoop tremble despite himself. Percival ruffled his feathers from the confines of Scoop’s collar as their hanging net swayed.
“We’re just simple seafarers, good Captain,” Scoop improvised, thinking it wise not to mention their original voyage of chasing rumors of treasure. It was better to downplay any value these strange mariners might perceive. “Our modest skiff ran afoul of a fearsome squall and next thing we knew, we landed here.”
Frostbeard stroked his icy beard, his pale eyes revealing nothing. “A squall? You don’t say? And in these northern latitudes, no less?” He leaned closer, and Scoop glimpsed etched symbols, like hoarfrost, scarring the skin around his neck.
“I know every snowflake and snowbank for a thousand leagues. No cursed winds delivered you here, matey.”
He sniffed the wind-spawned ice crystals around the netted captives. “But magic has touched thee. Your air is full of ancient whispers of holly and timber.”
Scoop blinked. Magic and myths? Maybe this crew had simply spent too many lonely weeks wandering the winter wastelands; they were cracking up. Scoop put on his most diplomatic face.
“Er, well, apologies for interrupting your, ah, important business! If you fine fellows would be so kind as to point us back towards friendly shores, we’d be much obliged and out of your hair forthwith.”
At this, Frostbeard threw back his head and released a bellow that echoed across the glacial vista.
His laughter drained away, leaving only icy contempt in his stare as he scrutinized the netted captives.
“Business, you say? We were once loyal servants to the so-called King of the North Pole before we struck out to pillage and plunder treasures enough to put that merry miser out of business! That be our business.”
At the crew’s raucous cheers, Scoop exchanged a perplexed glance with Percival. The parakeet tucked himself further into Scoop’s collar, his beak chattering and brilliant feathers puffed up to double his size.
“Y-you don’t mean Kris Kringle, eh?” Scoop ventured through rattling teeth.
Percival peeked out. “Saint Nicholas of Myra? But that’s just folklore, is it not? My Aunt Matilda was quite keen on the tale of a magical man who supposedly brought wondrous gifts and cheer each year. Though I assumed they were fanciful fables.”
Captain Frostbeard spat over the railing before skewering Percival with those unsettling icy eyes. “Aye, that four-flushing snow swindler be the one! He and his delirious band of prancing pixies cast us out when we dared question why we gruel day and night, making playthings for dimpled rug rats, while old Rednose hoards all the gold and riches for himself! But we’ll show ’em all.”
Here, Frostbeard clenched his glove, crystals instantly spreading to coat the rails and rigging as bitter vapor swirled about the crew. “This year, we plunder our prize to put every snow-drunk merrymaker of the North Pole out of business forever!”
Frostbeard smirked as cheers erupted from the ragged crew. They stomped and pounded the deck, icicles crashing down amidst the din. Frost gathered on the masts overhead. Scoop eyed the leaning posts warily as the ship groaned under the ruckus, hoping they’d hold fast under the weight.
“And methinks opportunity brought us a fine fortune with you two tender trespassers. Lock ’em below with the other bait for that bearded buffoon!”
At their captain’s command, Scoop and Percival soon found themselves dropped and deposited through a hatch into the ship’s hold.
The hatch slammed shut, sealing away the icy vista into inky darkness. A stagnant chill enveloped Scoop as his feet slipped on the frost-slick floorboards. The smells of fetid water, rust, and mold assaulted his nose while he blinked desperately to adjust his vision.
“Bit nippy down here, mate,” Scoop muttered through chattering teeth. “At least we’re out of the wind. I’d give my left leg for one of those hot cocoa drinks I tried once when we docked at Coco Cay. Remember those?”
“I’d give both your legs,” came a muffled guffaw from his collar.
Then, a scuffling sound drew their attention to a shadowy corner behind some frost-coated crates. Scoop shifted forward, wary of some odd icy ship pest like rats — or worse yet, spiders.
But instead of a frosty arachnid, a pair of small mittened hands thrust forward a tiny mug steaming with the rich aromas that reminded Scoop of the trader stall in Coco Cay.
“Here! Quickly! Drink it while it’s still warm,” squeaked a young female voice.
Scoop accepted the mug and took a tentative sip. The sweet warmth instantly thawed his insides. Percival poked his head out to peer curiously at their mysterious benefactor.
She was a petite blue elf girl in a dress of emerald and ruby fabric that offset her cherubic cheeks and crystal-blue eyes.
“Mmm, this is delicious!” Scoop said after taking another sip of the hot cocoa. “I’m Scoop, Captain of the pirate ship Bottlecap. This is my first mate, Percival. Thank you so much, uh…”
“I’m Peppermint,” the blue elf girl replied with a dimpled smile.
“Thank you, Peppermint! This hits the spot. But how did you make…”
Holly laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. “I’m an elf!” With a nod over her shoulder, she said, “This is my brother, Tinsel.” A boy elf who was about her age and had a lanky build emerged from the stacks of crates. His tousled hair had a silver sheen, and his eyes had the same lively spark.
“Sorry ‘bout all this,” Tinsel offered sincerely. “Our brother has declared war against Christmas, and any who he thinks supports Kringle.”
Scoop tilted his head in confusion until comprehension struck. “Oh, crackers! You two are siblings of that scoundrel?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Frostbeard’s our dear older brother,” Peppermint explained with a frown. “We used to all work together, making toys and keeping Christmas cheer alive back with Santa and the other elf clans.”
“But Frostbeard grew more power-hungry over the years,” Tinsel cut in, his expression darkening. “He started stirring up discontent, questioning Santa’s leadership and trying to undermine anything Christmas.”
Peppermint shook her head. “He just refused to accept that the Christmas spirit comes from acts of giving, not power, or hoarding treasures! Eventually, his rebellion split our clan. Half chose banishment rather than serving under Santa. Tinsel and I convinced most of our kin to stay loyal.”
Scoop scratched his head, brow furrowed. “Then how in blazes did you end up captives on your own brother’s ship?”
The twins exchanged an uneasy glance before Tinsel responded. “We may have been attempting to spy on Frostbeard’s plans when we got caught.” Here he grinned and patted a bulging sack tied at his waist. “But the recon was worth it! We snagged the Captain’s journal and maps. If we study them together, I reckon we can still foil his plot!”
At this, Percival alighted upon Peppermint’s cozy mittens for warmth. “Well, fortune certainly saw fit to supply capable comrades for such an undertaking!”
“Capital!” Scoop proclaimed with an adventurous gleam in his eyes. “Let’s have a look before ol’ Frostbeard notices they’re gone.”
Huddled together in a hidden corner of the hold, Tinsel spread open the crinkling pages of Frostbeard’s journal by the dim glow of a tiny ice lantern Peppermint produced from her dress pocket.
The elflings translated snippets of their eldest brother’s elaborate scheme to ambush Santa’s reindeer battalion during a warmup flight and then turn the poor animals against Santa with magic. With Santa overthrown, Frostbeard and his crew would be unstoppable in reshaping the holidays according to their cold vision.
“Red-nosed fool won’t know what hit him,” Tinsel read from the journal with a scowl. “And with that jolly juggernaut frozen stiff, we’ll ransack the workshops for every peppermint stick and diamond durable enough to deck my sleigh!”
“Sneaky devil,” Percival muttered with a shiver. Scoop clenched his jaw as foreboding prickled through his every frost-speckled nerve. They had no time to waste if joy were to endure past this Christmas.
“So, where’s your brother heading?” Scoop asked. The elflings exchanged an uneasy look.
“Based on the maps, it seems Frostbeard is headed right to Santa’s barn, where he keeps the reindeer,” Peppermint said. “Their warmup flight is very soon! We must warn them before they take off!”
“Time to fly the coop!” Scoop said. “We’ve got a holiday to save!”
“Here, I snagged the key off of the guard right before they threw you guys in here.” Tinsel pulled out a skeletal silver key and headed towards the keep’s ice-laden door. “It should spring this lock so we can slip up to the main deck while the crew carouses elsewhere.”
The team held their breath as Tinsel slipped the silver key into the frozen lock and turned it with a resounding clank! As the hold’s door creaked open, Peppermint led the group up shadowed steps behind stacks of supply crates.
Frostbeard’s guards on duty were a gristly pair — one burly as a polar bear with a ragged eye patch while his wiry partner clicked long needle-like claws together, their frost-tinged weapons glinting nearby.
Approaching the guards, Percival ruffled his feathers and proclaimed in a perfect impersonation of the Frostbeard’s gravelly snarl, “Blast it, my rum’s run dry! Fetch me a fresh cask at once, lest you lads catch my icy wrath!”
The guards scrambled to fulfill their master’s drink order. In the distraction, Scoop rigged a makeshift slide of spare ropes and they all slipped overboard.
They crept across the frozen shoreline on numb feet, always wary of thin ice, as the ghostly glow of the frigate faded behind them into the night.
“How much farther?” Scoop grumbled under his breath, wincing as frigid sea spray needled his face.
“Santa’s domain lies near the peak of a distant glacier ridge,” said Tinsel over his shoulder. He pointed toward shadowy cliffs rearing skyward, miles across the icy plain. “His herd takes flight every eve to practice their holiday delivery routes. We must get there before they take off!”
Peppermint led the group, tapping formations ahead with her candy cane staff to test for stability while waving encouragingly. But Scoop noticed the elflings shooting anxious glances at the sky. Time ticked away their precious head start on the nefarious Frostbeard.
But Scoop noticed the young elflings exchanging anxious side glances as the northern lights flared brighter across the horizon. Their lead on the villainous Frostbeard was swiftly diminishing.
Scoop gasped as frigid water gushed over the tops of his boots, icy talons piercing his numb toes when the group crossed the last frozen channel. Still, rising from the distant swirling mists, a sight ignited fiery hope deep in Scoop’s soul: peak-roofed crimson workshops and cheery cottages clustered atop a far snowy ridge. Peppermint pointed a mittened hand — that glittering village must be Santa’s hub.
Scoop’s exhausted limbs flooded with renewed vigor at the sight of the distant village, Kringlestadt, that warmed him deep as a holiday spice.
“Almost there, team!” Scoop whooped, punching a victorious fist skyward. His icy breath clouded the star-strewn heavens arching over their goal at last. “Santa’s home base is dead ahead!”
Just then, Peppermint flung out an arm, halting the group short. Faint but unmistakable, happy tinkling bells drifted from the cheery cottage rooftops ahead, undercut by an ominous percussive beat. Thump-creak, thump-creak echoed across the glittering snowscape.
Percival blinked owlishly. “What devilish creature makes such a sound?”
Scoop felt his excitement shifting to wariness. He squinted towards the largest, most gloriously lit structure flanked by towering evergreens, which marked Kris Kringle’s castle stronghold. Something approached along the golden-lit pathway.
Scoop’s jaw dropped as majestic reindeer, antlers arched like mighty crowns, thundered into the dark skies above Santa’s village. A gleaming red nose lit their path as they pulled a polished wooden sleigh into the heavens. Upon the leather reins sat Mrs. Claus, her rosy cheeks glowing with joyful determination against the winter chill.
“Oh, no! They’ve already taken flight,” breathed Peppermint behind Scoop. Scoop glanced back, seeing the elves’ tiny mittened hands pressed over hammering hearts even as their worried gazes tracked the sleigh’s ascent.
Scoop gritted his teeth as the sleigh became a distant, glimmering star. He refused to fail. Frostbeard’s wicked plots would tear apart not just mythic legends but also bring cruel destruction to everything sweet and innocent about the season’s magic itself. He felt a new resolve strengthening his soul — he must stop that sorcerer, no matter the personal cost.
“Frostbeard fast approaches!” Percival shrieked in tandem with Tinsel’s cry of “Incoming blizzard brigade!”
Whirling back the way they had come, Scoop spotted the Frostfang launching icy artillery into Mrs. Claus’s path, even as Frostbeard himself leered maniacally beside the ice cannons.
Scoop watched in dawning horror as a giant icy sphere honed in on the lead reindeer. With nimble skill, Mrs. Claus yanked the guidance reins, narrowly swerving her team as the blast whizzed past and erupted ahead in a crackling icy net.
“Dash it all, Rudy, pull up!” Mrs. Claus cried. But the blast radius clipped the squadron with an explosion of chains that entangled the team mid-flight.
Scoop’s heart lurched as Rudolph and the team suddenly pitched downward, tangled in the explosion of icy chains.
“No!” The scream tore from Scoop’s throat. A resounding boom hammered his ears — the captive reindeer squadron, antlers flailing, voices raised in distressed whinnies, crashed inside the Frostfang’s gaping cargo bay. Scoop winced against the sounds of splintering wood and crackling ice.
On deck, Frostbeard’s grating laughter echoed across the frozen landscape. As Frostbeard’s minions sealed the cargo bay prison, the maniacal mirth continued.
Scoop turned to Tinsel and Peppermint, his expression grim. “There’s nothing more we can do on our own. Frostbeard has outmatched us.” He met their eyes with resolve. “Our only chance to save Mrs. Claus and the reindeer now is to get Santa. He’s the only one powerful enough who can stand up to Frostbeard and take him down.”
Tinsel and Peppermint nodded, steely determination on their faces.
“Then that’s what we’ll do — we'll get Santa!” declared Tinsel.
Wasting no time, the team took off.
Weaving between quaint cottages and towering toy yards, the team made straight for Santa’s castle—their last hope.
Scoop and crew burst into the towering Great Hall, its vast vaulted ceilings strung with garland and cheerful wreaths now seeming at tragic odds with their dire tidings.
A lone elf, Dinky, looked up from stoking the ornate fireplace emblazoned with Saint Nick’s coat of arms. His round face fell seeing the bedraggled team.
“Bless my bells. What has happened?” Dinky asked.
As the team crowded round the crackling fire, Scoop recounted between gasps for air how Frostbeard’s assault had captured Santa’s reindeer along with Mrs Claus herself.
“Frostbeard vowed to drain the reindeer’s Yule magic to fuel his sleigh and turn the creatures against Santa!” Peppermint finished miserably.
At this, Dinky placed two long, blue fingers into his mouth and gave a sharp whistle.
With a sudden blast of emerald flames and a swirl of snowfall, Santa Claus himself materialized before the gathered crew. His thick fur mantle bristled as Dinky and the others explained Frostbeard’s plot.
When the tale concluded, Santa slowly stroked his beard. “This is wicked news indeed. My beloved reindeer…my wife…captives to that tyrant! If my team remains trapped come midnight, I’ll be forced to postpone the flight.” Santa heaved a sigh like a mournful gust of arctic wind. “Children everywhere will awaken heartbroken without holiday magic.”
A flare of defiance exploded in Scoop.
Percival fluffed his brilliant green feathers. “We shall shift strategy, sir! Our signature wit and grit have gotten us out of many scrapes before.”
“Too right!” Scoop tried to stand tall, puffing out his scrawny chest. “We’ll save Christmas! One good turn may sink a skiff, as we seadogs say, but Christmas spirit still be brewin’! Now who’s with me to show Frostbeard what for!?”
Tinsel bounced on her toes, jingling the bells on her festive stocking cap, as he exchanged a hopeful glance with Peppermint. Though nervous, the two elves nodded determinedly, ready to assist Santa in any way they could.
Santa beamed, his rosy cheeks glowing. Scoop felt his confidence growing. He straightened his newspaper tricorne hat, ready for action.
“What’s the plan, Kris?” Scoop asked eagerly. “We’re ready!”
Santa’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed the ragtag, yet eager, crew.
“No need for elaborate schemes, my spirited friends. To best Frostbeard, we must fight magic with magic!”
Here Santa turned and strode toward the door to the Great Hall and out to an adjoining barn. Brushing aside a frost-tinged tarp revealed a dusty wooden sled with chipped paint yet sturdy oak slats and shining steel blades.
“Behold! The original Kringle sled!”
Scoop’s eyes shone as he dashed over. Santa’s very first sled! He traced the faded initials “K.K.” etched on the weathered wood.
“She’s awesome!” Scoop cheered.
“Yes indeed, m’boy!” Santa ho-ho’d. “Now then, Tinsel, Peppermint — round up the strongest huskies from our kennels. Percival, help Scoop outfit our sled. We have not much time to waste!”
As elf and bird sprang into action around the barn, Scoop felt his heart surge with fiery hope. Gazing out the doors to where inky night ruled, he knew Frostbeard still held the advantage this eve — but not for long.
As long as the Christmas spirit filled their hearts with hope, the darkness could never win.
And Scoop stood, ready to fight for the light.
Guided by the northern stars winking like diamonds in the velvet night sky, the frigid arctic wind biting at their exposed skin, the crew raced across crackling ice floes behind a team of six powerful huskies.
Clinging to the weathered reins of Santa’s original sleigh, Scoop felt breathless wonder gazing starboard where a ghostly green glow now pulsed from within the Frostfang’s icy innards like a chilling heartbeat.
Santa cracked his driving whip, bellowing encouragement to the straining canine team.
As their sleigh closed the gap, Frostbeard’s silhouette took shape. His grating voice spewed commands over the frenzied preparations of the shadowy elf forms rushing back and forth across the deck.
“Steady crew!” bellowed Frostbeard. “Stand ready with frost fire nets and crystal cages,” he commanded, his voice colder than the icy wasteland around them.
Scoop met Santa’s grim gaze, recognizing this as their one chance to halt catastrophe; they’re one shot at restoring the proper spirit this season deserved.
Santa stood tall, raising one mighty gloved hand toward Frostbeard’s frigate. His furrowed brow creased in concentration while fractals of frost swirled and spun faster around his fingers. Then, with a bellow, Santa swept his snowy palm down. The black waters instantly crystallized into gleaming ice with a resounding crack, locking the Frostfang’s keel firmly in place.
Scoop could now clearly hear Frostbeard bellowing threats as elf shadows scrambled their attack preparations.
As the huskies pulled their sled beside the mighty Frostfang, Scoop helped Tinsel and Peppermint aim with snowball cannons while Percival kept airborne watch.
Their plan was risky but simple: distract Frostbeard’s crew while Santa slipped aboard to locate and release the captive reindeer before Frostbeard could drain their magic.
“Steady now…” Santa warned under his breath.
Aboard the ghostly enemy ship, Frostbeard raised gleaming ice-blue arms skyward, creating a pulsating orb. His voice rang out in violent verses that raised bristling chills across Scoop’s crew.
The moment had come.
“Fire!” Scoop bellowed. As a barrage of exploding snowballs peppered the deck, Santa conjured a shimmering portal straight through the hull before diving into the emerald glow. Scoop and company doubled down on their frozen fusillade.
Through the fog of battle, moments slowed to lifetimes. Percival’s wings shimmered like stardust as he swooped and peppered Frostbeard’s forces with expert aerial annoyances. Tinsel and Peppermint flung snowy salvos in unison, their youthful faces hardened by determination.
Suddenly, the reindeer burst forth from the portal: eight total, including Rudolph himself with a crimson snoot gleaming brighter than ever. Mrs. Claus emerged last atop Cupid.
She caught Scoop’s awestruck gaze and gave a wink. “Have no fear — Santa is right behind me! I’ll meet you back at the Great Hall as soon as he takes care of Frostbeard once and for all. Now, let’s fly — we’ve presents to deliver!”
With a crack of the reins, Mrs. Claus and the reindeer took to the inky skies as Frostbeard bellowed furiously. But his fury went unheeded as the determined team soared over the snowy landscape, united in their mission to manifest the magic of Christmas.
Even as the newly freed reindeer took to the inky skies with Mrs. Claus, the ghastly glow intensified into a blinding emerald beacon matched only by Frostbeard’s outraged bellowing. He shook an icy fist skyward as his ritual unraveled.
“All of you are on my naughty list now!” Frostbeard howled amidst his stunned crew struggling to regroup from the snowball ambush. “I’ll freeze your bones to decorate my tundra once this night is over!”
Then, Frostbeard leveled his orb cannon towards Scoop and the tiny sleigh.
Yet before Frostbeard could discharge his fury, a deeper bellow sounded across the fjord. All gazes swung to the deck as Santa exploded upward through the Frostfang’s main hatch atop his massive reindeer, Comet.
“Ho Ho HOLD!” Santa commanded, one arm swinging his candy cane quarterstaff. “Your days of duplicity are at an end, Frostbeard! Either vow to reform your ways, or choose exile beyond all realms of warmth and cheer!”
A tense standoff crystallized as elf eyes locked across frozen battle lines. Until Frostbeard abruptly burst into laughter, a grin splitting his icy beard.
“Oh, I’ll leave aright Saint Nick…with the orb of winter magic! This battle only strengthened my power. Now come springtime, we shall see who children carol for as their holiday saint!”
With a flash of unnatural Borealis, Frostbeard dissolved into a glittering mist, his chilling laughter echoing across the fjord. Scoop and his crew stared after the vanished villain, their hearts leaden despite succeeding in their mission.
Santa looked down at Scoop and his crew, his bushy white eyebrows furrowing with concern. “Do not despair, my faithful friends. This is but one minor setback in an otherwise triumphant night!”
Scoop managed a brave smile, bolstered by Santa’s confidence. As the northern stars glittered overhead, lighting their homeward path, Scoop knew that whatever trickery Frostbeard plotted next, this intrepid crew would rise together and save Christmas once again.
As Santa guided his weary reindeer back toward the Great Hall, Scoop felt dread congealing at Frostbeard’s words. Though the reindeer were safe and Christmas Eve cargo secure, their showdown with the traitor remained unfinished.
Yet Mrs. Claus only giggled as she came out of the Great Hall to greet her saviors. “Think nothing of that dreadful little traitor, my dears,” Mrs. Claus said. “Why, after a relaxing summer soak, that inflated ego of his will have thawed back down to a humble elf ready to spread cheer again! Mark my words, my little pirate, the new year thaw works magic restoring kindness no matter who you are.”
Santa gave a hearty belly laugh at his wife’s wisdom. “Well said, my dear! Now, let’s finish the final festivity preparations.”
A riotous cheer erupted as they entered the hall. Scoop managed a grin, but an icy fist still clenched his heart. Would Frostbeard retaliate? Were more innocents at risk? The baby captain longed to trust Mrs. Claus’ reassuring words, yet doubts still skirled through his mind like arctic winds. But how could one despair when surrounded by such joyful jubilation?
Scoop knew no matter what happened, the traditions and spirit they celebrated this night proved as timeless as joy itself, so long as faithful friends came together. His and Percival’s first yuletide voyage concluded in victory no ice sorcerer could ever steal away again.
Nestled deep in the red-brick heart of Kringlestadt, Santa’s banquet hall blazed with Yuletide splendor. Garlands of holly and frosted ferns swagged the vaulted gingerbread rafters. Upon candy-striped tables, a feast that could sustain an army of elves almost made Scoop forget the day’s brushes with death. Real pickled sugar plums jostled with gumdrops and caramel apples while a suckling pig glistened atop a pineapple ice sculpture.
At last, pewter plates scraped bare and stomachs filled to bursting, sweet contentment descended upon the candlelit hall as golden as syrup trickling over fresh snow cookies. Santa pressed his palms upon the carved oak table and rose to his imposing height.
Clearing his throat. “My friends, recent events have awakened this old snowbird to how cherished our holiday traditions remain across the ages — No! Across entire realms! And we’ve fellowships new and renewed to thank for such a celebration.”
Here Santa turned a smile brimming with fondness upon Scoop, Percival, Peppermint, and Tinsel, who all sat beaming back brighter than freshly fallen snow.
“This parchment declares these brave and happy few shall forever remain honored guests and allies woven into the magic of Christmas itself!” Santa proclaimed as Mrs. Claus lifted a roll of beribboned parchment for all to see. “For through tremendous courage and conviction displayed tonight, you’ve each saved the holiday spirit from the abyss. We shall never forget such gallant souls!”
Amidst resounding cheers that shook the rafters, Scoop met Percival’s eyes with a grin that needed no translation: this was precisely where they belonged, and would gladly defend it again should peril come around once more.
As the night wore on in a blur of uplifting carols and spiced cider, Scoop regaled rosy-cheeked elf children and adults alike with reenactments of his crew’s daring exploits in outwitting Frostbeard’s sinister forces — with Percival providing embellishments here and there, of course.
When at last cups of hot cider lulled the wee ones into snoring slumber, Scoop slipped outside, welcoming the bracing chill. He scoured the inky horizon, wary of any sign of Frostbeard’s forces regrouping. All seemed peaceful, but the boy captain knew better than to trust such silences.
As if responding to Scoop’s vigil, streamers of aurora unfurled across the star-strewn sky. The northern lights blazed emerald, crimson, azure — at once beautiful yet mysterious.
Scoop longed to unwind his battle-tensed shoulders and believe Mrs. Claus’ assurances of restored peace.
“Best grab some shut-eye, mateys,” the boy captain advised his first mate after he headed inside and sprawled in exhaustion in the middle of a downed pillow, stitched with prancing reindeer.
Before he closed his eyes, which had witnessed feats beyond any mortal’s imaginings just hours earlier, he looked out the large window. Santa was lifting off into the night sky behind nine reindeer as they set off on their wondrous night.
Scoop’s heart surged watching the figures dwindle, thrumming with the hope his future adventures might someday prove legendary for generations yet to come.
Scoop chuckled. The Star of Hope now burned brighter than ever for all Earth’s children.
With dreams of more than sugarplums already dancing in his head, young Captain Scoop soon sailed into slumber himself.
He knew that the true spirit of the season had prevailed, thanks to the courage and conviction of unexpected alliances.
Though the motives of beings like Frostbeard remained ever mysterious, Scoop now understood that fear and doubt melted away when met with steadfast faith in fellowship and love.
Darkness can be conquered, but light would always return renewed, just as the sun rose each dawn this time of year — a silent promise that warmth glows eternally in all hearts as ready to share as a candy cane shared with a stranger.
Scoop nestled under his hat, a contented smile teasing his lips, peaceful in the ancient understanding that no matter how icy the night, the coming day would dawn all the brighter.
