Lucien's jaw dropped the moment he stepped inside. From the outside, the cottage looked quaint—like six or seven elves might squeeze inside at most. But within… it was vast. A hallway stretched farther than he could see, lit with floating lanterns that bobbed gently as though breathing. Door after door lined the walls, each carved with runes that glowed faintly in twilight colors. The air smelled faintly of pinewood and spiced cider.
"No way," Lucien breathed. "It's… bigger inside."
"Of course it is," Noelle replied, smirking. "Santa doesn't skimp on space magic."
Feld waddled in and spun with his stick arms raised. "It's like stepping into a gingerbread mansion built by giants!" He smacked into the nearest wall with a thunk, then added cheerfully: "The walls are very sturdy too!"
Noelle pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ignore him."
---
The main chamber was a sprawling common room filled with warm light, cushioned benches, and a roaring fireplace shaped like a reindeer's head. A long dining table stretched across the room, set with mismatched chairs and mugs carved from ice that somehow didn't melt.
Lucien was not alone. Six elves sat scattered around the room, each pausing to glance up at the newcomer. Their personalities hit him almost immediately—louder than words.
Finn: a lean boy with sharp features and sharper eyes, lounging in a chair like he owned the place. His smirk never left his face. Ego practically radiated off him.
Bell: tiny, wide-eyed, and fidgety, hiding half her face behind a book. She glanced at Lucien, then immediately looked away, cheeks red.
Holly: fiery red curls and an even fierier temper, judging by the way she snapped at Finn when he made some teasing remark. Her voice carried like a whip crack.
Eve: dark-haired, quiet, sitting in the corner embroidering something with meticulous care. She didn't look up once, but Lucien could feel the wall she'd built around herself.
Christopher: broad-shouldered, cheerful, offering Lucien a wave so big his sleeve nearly knocked over a mug. His laugh came easily, his kindness warmer than the fire.
Aurora: tall, graceful, almost too perfect, standing near the fireplace with arms crossed. She gave Lucien one long, cold glance—assessing him like one might a stray dog.
Lucien shifted uneasily. "Uh… hello."
Bell squeaked and nearly dropped her book. Holly rolled her eyes. Finn smirked wider. Christopher stood and clasped Lucien's hand with enough enthusiasm to make his wrist pop.
"Welcome, friend! New faces keep the place lively."
"Another mouth to feed," Holly muttered.
"Another bed hog," Finn added smoothly.
Aurora arched a brow. "Another responsibility."
Lucien blinked at them all, suddenly overwhelmed again. Noelle leaned in, whispering, "Don't mind the chaos. They're decent once you get used to them."
From the side chamber, the door creaked and a figure stepped in: an older elf woman, her hair silver braided neatly behind her, spectacles perched at the tip of her nose. She wore an apron dusted with flour and an expression of long-practiced patience.
"Ah," she said, her voice warm and commanding all at once. "The new arrival."
Noelle straightened. "Lucien, this is Matron Elsbeth. She looks after us all."
Elsbeth gave him a once-over. "Human-born, hm? Stronger frame than most. We'll see if that means a stronger work ethic. Come."
She ushered him down the hall. One door glowed faintly, opening as they approached. Inside was a cozy room: a small bed with patchwork blankets, a wardrobe carved with star motifs, and a window that looked out at the twilight forest despite the cottage being nowhere near one.
"Your quarters," Elsbeth said. "Your clothes are in the wardrobe—tailored for you, of course. Santa is rarely mistaken in his measures."
Lucien opened the wardrobe hesitantly. Inside hung tunics of deep blue, lined with fur; trousers of soft wool; boots that seemed impossibly sturdy for their lightness. His fingers lingered on the fabric. For the first time since his arrival, he realized how ragged his Earthly clothes looked against the perfection of this place.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Elsbeth's stern face softened just a fraction. "Gratitude is good. Responsibility is better. Every elf here contributes to the household. You'll choose a task."
Lucien blinked. "A… task?"
"Cooking, cleaning, tending the firewood, laundry, assisting the younger spawns when they arrive—choose what suits you."
He glanced back toward the common room, where Finn lounged like a prince, Holly was arguing with Christopher, and Bell was nervously hiding in her book. His chest tightened. He didn't know where he fit, or what he was supposed to do.
"I'll… try cooking?" he said, half-guessing.
Elsbeth raised a brow. "You try cooking, or you can cook?"
Lucien flushed. "I can… learn?"
She studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. The kitchen is open. You'll shadow me for now."
When she turned away, Noelle leaned in, whispering with a grin, "Don't worry. Elsbeth's cooking lessons usually end with food fights anyway."
Lucien groaned. "Great. First task in a magical world: burn soup."
"Don't worry," Feld chirped from the hall, poking his snowy head around the doorframe. "If you burn it, I'll eat it! I've eaten rocks before! Rocks are crunchy!"
Lucien laughed, half in despair, half in relief.