[I'm content with the ending. It's a relief not to have this interactive story lying unfinished for over a year as its two predecessors were, especially since this one was a seasonal tale. I'd suggest that anyone who is particularly unsatisfied with the story's conclusion submit their own alternative.
Incidentally, I'm about to write an alternative ending, but only because I had some ideas brewing in case the story didn't get finished by someone else, and have enjoyed contributing too much to know when to stop...
"Who dares disturb my slumber?" shrieked Lillith. "I suspect my ex-husband's hand in this, but I do not see him here." She caught sight of Treguard and, recognising no one else in the room, fixed her eyes on him.
"Hark, the herald angels sing!" protested Treguard.
Confused, Lillith swept her gaze around the hall, and her disgust grew. "Christmas? So concentrated in one place? What foul conjuring is this? SILENCE!" she screamed, as New Mogdred tried to interrupt. "This will not do at all. Whether you have caused it, or simply cannot eliminate it, I do not know; but only one thing can end Christmas. Spellcasting: S-A-L-E-S!"
The hall filled with dense, glittering smoke, as Lillith uttered several other incantations that weren't quite audible. When the smoke cleared, the room had been transformed from a Christmas grotto into an indoor market. Julius Scaramonger, Ah Wok and Honesty Bartram clamoured for custom behind stalls piled wide with Merlin's Christmas presents. There were other traders too, and among them was the familiar form of Merlin, fixed in his seller's guise from years earlier. "Supplies and equipment, equipment and supplies!" he exclaimed.
"Master, if Merlin's back, then..." Pickle's question was both interrupted and answered when the old Mogdred strode out from among the stalls and approached his ex-wife, enraged. The traders seemed unruffled.
"I am separate from Merlin again! My plans are ruined!" screamed Mogdred. "You will pay dearly for this!!"
"You won't pay dearly over 'ere, generous discounts on all items!" chimed in Scaramonger from across the room.
"My magical endeavours have weakened me. I'm returning to my sleep," declared Lillith. "But not alone." She looked Mogdred in the eye. He'd hardly changed. And he could 'cross the zone' like no other man she'd ever been with. She leaned close, but some residual magic stopped her from taking him.
Treguard realised what Lillith was trying to do. Spotting a piece of mistletoe on the icy floor, he grabbed it and, with a thrust of his sword arm, flung it towards Lillith and Mogdred. As it passed over their heads, she sealed their reunion with a kiss, and Mogdred was powerless to escape as the couple vanished.
"Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace," Treguard called after them. And Pickle, knowing that Merlin's carol spell had worn off earlier, broke into a grin.
It took a few days for Treguard to confirm that Merlin's changes to the Dungeon had been undone, and by that time, Christmas Day had come and gone. In the hope that there were still lights up in Wolfenden and a little mulled wine waiting for him in the Crazed Heifer, Treguard and Pickle slipped out of Knightmare Castle and headed for the tavern.
"Is Hordriss joining us, Master?" asked Pickle as they trudged through Wolfglade.
"No, Pickle. He's still busy installing Sidriss as the new queen of Winteria. But he promised to drop in on McGrew's Hogmanay celebrations. Any more questions?"
"Well actually, yes. Will Merlin ever try to steal Christmas again?"
"Who's to say? But if he does, we'll just unite and stop him once more."
Treguard took a breath of chilly air. It was true that he hadn't marched out, sword gleaming, and single-handedly saved the Dungeon. He'd done something far more honourable: he had saved the Dungeon as part of a team. If there was any mulled wine left at the pub, Treguard knew he'd earned it. He noticed that the elf was dawdling.
"Come along, no time for pooka-watching. And if there's an elven short-cut nearby, do tell me. We do want to be there for happy hour, don't we, sprite?"]
