Tess was a girl who lived at the edge of the Arctic, where the snow glittered like sugar. She was small, warm in her big coat, and very curious. Tess was also a brave girl, but she didn’t always feel brave at first. Sometimes her tummy felt wiggly, like a bowl of jelly.
One bright, cold morning, Tess stepped outside and gasped.
The sky was pale. The Arctic lights were gone.
Usually, green and purple ribbons danced above her home at night. Tess loved to wave at them before bed.
Now the night felt plain.
“I miss the lights,” Tess whispered.
A tiny voice answered, “So do I!”
From behind a snowdrift popped an Elf. He was small as a mitten, with pointy ears and a hat that looked like a folded leaf. His cheeks were rosy from the cold.
“I’m Pip,” said the Elf, bowing so deeply he almost toppled over.
Tess giggled. “Hi, Pip. Where did the lights go?”
Pip looked up at the empty sky and frowned. “Someone has taken the Aurora’s lantern. Without it, the lights can’t dance.”
“A lantern?” Tess asked.
“Yes,” Pip said. “It is a special lantern made of ice-crystal and starlight. It guides the Aurora like a little leader.”
Tess’s eyes grew wide. “We have to get it back!”
Pip nodded fast. “We do. But… there is a Giant.”
Tess’s tummy did the jelly-wiggle again. “A Giant?”
Pip leaned close and whispered, “He is big and lonely. Sometimes lonely feelings make big stomps.”
Tess took a slow breath. “Okay. I can be scared and still go.”
“That is very brave,” Pip said.
They started walking across the snow. The Arctic was quiet, but not empty. The wind hummed softly. The ice made tiny singing sounds under their boots.
Pip hopped from footprint to footprint, like the prints were stepping-stones. “Follow me! I know a shortcut.”
The shortcut was a tunnel made by snow and wind. It arched like a white cave. Tess ducked inside.
“Hello?” her voice echoed.
A glittery sound answered back: tinkle-tinkle.
“Did you hear that?” Tess asked.
Pip grinned. “The snow likes you.”
At the end of the tunnel, they found something strange: a line of huge footprints. Each print was as wide as Tess’s whole body.
Pip gulped. “Giant steps.”
Tess looked carefully. Inside one footprint lay a lost mitten, blue and fuzzy. And beside it, a little pile of broken ice chunks.
“Maybe he dropped things,” Tess said.
Pip peered at the chunks. “This looks like lantern ice.”
Tess’s heart thumped. “So the Giant really has it.”
They followed the prints to a place where ice hills rose like sleeping whales. The air smelled extra cold, like clean metal.
Then they heard it.
THUMP… THUMP… THUMP…
The Giant appeared from behind an ice ridge. He was tall as a tower, with a scarf made from a rolled-up sail. His hair stuck out like snowy straw.
In his hands he held a lantern.
It was beautiful, even in daylight. It shimmered with tiny moving colors.
Tess’s knees wanted to hide. Pip grabbed her sleeve.
“We can do this,” Pip whispered.
The Giant looked down and blinked slowly. His eyes were not mean. They were tired.
He sniffed. “Who… is… there?”
Tess stepped forward, just one step. “Hi. I’m Tess.”
Pip waved both arms. “And I’m Pip the Elf!”
The Giant’s nose wrinkled. “Small… visitors.”
Tess pointed to the lantern. “That lantern helps the Arctic lights dance. Did you take it?”
The Giant hugged the lantern close to his chest. “I… found it. It was shining. I wanted… a nightlight.”
Pip frowned. “But the whole sky needs it.”
The Giant’s shoulders drooped, making a soft snow-slide sound. “The sky has many things. I have… empty.”
Tess felt her fear shrink a little. She could hear the lonely in his voice.
She said gently, “Do you feel alone?”
The Giant’s lips wobbled. “Yes. When the lights dance, everyone looks up. No one looks at me.”
Pip whispered to Tess, “He wants attention.”
Tess nodded. She had an idea, a brave and kind idea.
Tess said, “What if we make you a special light too? One that is yours. Then you can give the Aurora lantern back.”
The Giant blinked. “A light… for me?”
Pip clapped. “We can do it! I know how to gather glow-snow.”
Tess asked, “Glow-snow?”
Pip spun in a circle. “Snow that holds tiny sparkles, like it swallowed a star.”
The Giant looked interested. “I can help. I am… good at carrying.”
“Great!” Tess said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.
They worked together. Pip darted between ice rocks to find glow-snow. Tess scooped it into a little jar from her pocket. The Giant held out his big scarf like a bowl so they could collect more.
As they gathered, Pip told jokes.
“Why did the snowflake sit down?” Pip asked.
Tess tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because it was… a little tired!” Pip laughed at his own joke.
Even the Giant made a rumbling chuckle that sounded like distant drums.
When the scarf-bowl was full, Tess said, “Now we need something to shape the light.”
The Giant took off a button from his sail-scarf. It was shiny and round.
“This was from a ship,” he said. “It is strong.”
Pip nodded. “Perfect! A light needs a brave heart.”
Tess held the button carefully. It was cold, but it felt important.
She pressed the button into the glow-snow inside the jar. Pip whispered Elf words, soft and bouncy, like a song you hum while walking.
The glow-snow swirled.
The jar lit up.
Not too bright. Not too dim. Just right.
It made warm little colors that danced on the snow.
The Giant stared. His mouth opened. “Mine?”
Tess smiled. “Yours. A Giant Night-Jar.”
Pip added, “It won’t steal the sky. It will only light your cave and your heart.”
The Giant carefully took the jar with two fingers. He held it up to his face. The colors painted his cheeks.
“I… feel… seen,” he said quietly.
Tess’s chest felt happy and buzzy.
Then the Giant looked at the Aurora lantern in his other hand.
He swallowed. “I am sorry. I did not know it was the leader-lantern.”
He kneeled down, making the snow puff like flour, and placed the lantern on the ground in front of Tess and Pip.
“Take it back,” he said.
Pip bounced. “Yes!”
Tess picked up the lantern. It felt cold and smooth, like a frozen bubble.
But the sky was still pale.
Pip squinted. “The lantern needs to be lifted high. It must see the whole Arctic.”
The Giant pointed to a tall ice hill. “I can put it on top.”
Tess hesitated. The hill was steep and shiny.
“I might slip,” she said.
The Giant held out his hand, big as a sled. “I will make steps.”
He pressed gentle dents into the hill, one by one, like giant stairs. Pip hopped up first, showing where to step.
“Tess, follow my ears!” Pip called.
Tess climbed. Her boots fit into the Giant steps. She held the lantern close.
At the top, the wind whooshed. Tess’s hair flew into her face.
Pip shouted, “Now! Hold it up!”
Tess lifted the lantern high with both hands.
The lantern chimed: ting… ting… ting.
A thin ribbon of green appeared in the sky.
Then purple.
Then a swirl of blue.
The Aurora woke up like a sleepy kitten stretching.
The Arctic lights danced again.
Tess laughed, and Pip spun so fast he became a little blur.
Down below, the Giant looked up. The lights painted his snowy hair with color.
He waved, slow and careful. “Hello… sky.”
Tess called down, “Hello, Giant! Thank you for helping!”
The Giant’s voice boomed gently, “Thank you for my night-jar.”
When they climbed back down, the Giant offered them one more thing. He opened a small ice chest near his cave.
Inside were treasures he had found in the snow: a silver spoon, a shiny stone, and a tiny music box.
Pip gasped. “Oooo!”
The Giant pushed the music box toward Tess. “For you. You brought back the dance.”
Tess picked it up. She turned the little key.
It played a soft tune, ting-ting-ting, like the lantern’s chime.
“This is the best treasure,” Tess said.
Pip nodded. “And we made a new friend.”
The Giant smiled a slow, shy smile. “Friends… can visit?”
Tess said, “Yes. We will come back. And we will look at you, not just the sky.”
That night, Tess stood outside with Pip. Above them, the Aurora danced bright and happy.
Far away, in the Giant’s cave, a gentle glow shone from the Giant Night-Jar.
Tess held her new music box close. She felt brave in a new way.
Not the loud kind of brave.
The kind of brave that walks up, says hello, and makes room for someone else’s heart to shine.