Winter settles heavy, snow gathering in thick ridges along the roofline and creeping steadily higher against the forge outside, but still Darren Dreamer works. The blacksmith shop glows orange against the gray afternoon, sparks leaping into the cold air each time his hammer strikes metal.
Even bundled beneath layers of wool and leather, the heat rolling from the forge leaves sweat at his brow as he works iron into horseshoes, hinges, and tools needed by the town.
Inside the house, Ivy keeps the kitchen warm and alive. Bread rises near the stove while she moves about preparing supper, occasionally pausing to peer out the frosted window toward the forge where Darren still works despite the accumulating snow.
Once Darren's work is done, the three of them gather together properly for Christmas. A few candles burn low near the hearth while the little evergreen tree Dirk brought home earlier in the week sits decorated with bits of ribbon and dried fruit.
Darren’s gift is practical, as most things in his life tend to be. A sturdy new pair of leather work gloves rests inside his parcel, thick enough to withstand the forge far better than the worn pair he has stubbornly refused to replace. He slips one on and grunts his approval.
“Good leather,” he says simply, which from Darren amounts to glowing praise.
Dirk receives a new book, its leather cover smelling faintly of fresh ink and binding glue. He turns it over in his hands with immediate interest, thumbing carefully through the pages before thanking Ivy and Darren both.
Ivy, in turn, unwraps a beautifully carved embroidery hoop, smooth polished wood fitted carefully with brass. Her face softens instantly upon seeing it.
For a while they explore their gifts in turn, the storm continuing softly outside while warmth and candlelight fill the small house. It is a modest Christmas, but a good one nonetheless.