For the holidays, you both took a rare break from constructing the portal. Sitting by the crackling fire with Fiddleford, you relish the comfort of a cup of nog. Through the frost-dappled window, you admire the snowmen the two of you built earlier, their lopsided grins and twig arms lending them a charmingly quirky character.

Without warning, Fiddleford reaches into his coat and pulls out a small, carefully wrapped package.

"Got a lil' somethin' for ya, partner," he says with a wide grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement as you begin to unwrap it.

Inside, nestled in a swath of soft fabric, lies a pair of handmade gloves. Slipping them on, you find they fit perfectly, the fine craftsmanship as thoughtful as the gesture itself.

"I went through more'n a hiccup or two knittin' 'em just right," Fiddleford admits with a sheepish chuckle, holding up his bandaged fingers as proof. The goofy grin on his face softens into an expression of quiet pride and affection.