First off, a little explanation:

In the Elder Scrolls lore, Saturalia is a holiday celebrated on the 25th of Evening Star (the equivalent of December in Tamriel). Gifts are given and parties and parades are held. Granted, it's mainly celebrated in Wayrest, a kingdom within High Rock, but until the Dragonborn can go to High Rock and/or celebrate holidays in some future DLC, some liberties had to be taken with this.

The Dragonborn in this story is basically the one from the trailers of Skyrim (iron helmet, studded armor, etc.).

I tried to find some Nordic equivalent of Santa Claus, but the best I could find was Joulupukki, the Finnish equivalent, and that name just sounded too silly to put in the story. Santa Claus may not be lore-friendly either, but at least we're familiar with him.

With that out of the way, let's begin.

Everyone down in Skyrim loved Saturalia a lot,

But the Dragonborn, hidden away in High Hrothgar, did not.

He hated Saturalia, and the whole Evening Star season.

But please, don't ask why though, since no one knows the reason.

It could be that his iron boots were just a little too tight,

Or perhaps Sheogorath left his head screwed on not quite right.

But I think that the most likely reason of all,

Is that his Dragonborn heart was two sizes too small.

But whatever the reason, Sheogorath or his boots,

He looked down at the people, hating them (especially the Altmer, those snoots).

Staring down at the holds with a sour Nordic frown

At the candlelit windows throughout the many towns.

For he knew every man, Elf and Argonian beneath,

Was busy hanging up their Snowberry wreaths.

"And they're hanging up stockings", he snarled with a sneer,

"Tomorrow is Saturalia, it's practically here!"

Then he growled and he growned, with his fingers nervously drumming,

"I must find some way to stop Saturnalia from coming…"

For tomorrow, he knew, all the Nord girls and boys

Would wake bright and early and rush for their toys.

And then? Oh the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's just one thing he hated! That NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the people, young and old, would sit down for a feast,

And they'd feast and they'd feast. And they'd feast, feast, feast, feast!

Eating delicious sweet rolls, and consuming so many beasts.

This was something that he couldn't stand in the least.

And then… they'd do something he couldn't stand most of all –

The people young and old would stand close together,

With Saturalia bells ringing, they'd stand hand in hand,

And the people below would start singing.

And they'd sing and they'd sing. And they'd sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!

And the more the Nord thought of the whole Saturalia sing,

The more that he thought "I must stop this whole thing!

For so many years, I've put up with it now!

I must stop Saturalia from coming…

But how?".

Then, he got an idea. An awful idea.

The Dragonborn got a wonderful, awful idea.

"I know just what to do!", the man laughed as he probed

Around High Hrothgar for a certain gift-giver's hat and robe.

And he chuckled and clucked, "What a great trick I will sew!

With this robe and this hat, I'll take the gifts! Who will know?

Now I'll need a flying deer mount…", and he looked around,

But of course (without mods), there were none be found.

But did this stop the Dragonborn? No.

The Nord simply said: "If I can find a mount… I'll call one myself!"

So he called Odahviing and took lots of red thread

And tied mammoth tusks to the top of his head.

And then he loaded up lots of bags and some other things

Onto a large crafted sled and hitched up Odahviing.

Then the Dragonborn called, "G'ddyap!" and the sleigh started down

Onto the homes of the people a-snooze in their towns.

All the windows were dark and quiet snow filled the air.

All the cities (besides Dawnstar) slept sweet dreams without care.

When he came to the first house in Whiterun:

"This is stop #1", the Dragonborn hissed

And he tried to lockpick the door with some sacks in his fist.

He broke a few picks, and he spat and he swore.

But if a Khajiit could do it, then so could a Nord.

He nearly gave up, for a moment or two,

But the lock gave up sooner, and in the Nord flew.

He found the kids' stockings, all hung in a row.

"These stockings," he said, "are the first thing to go."

Then he slithered and he slunk, with a smile so unpleasant,

And he searched the whole room, and took every present.

Toy sword, and girls' dolls, and little lutes, flutes, and drums

Game boards, septims, and treats, such as popped corn and plums.

And he stuffed them in bags, and, without a snicker said,

He took them outside and stuffed the bags in his sled.

Then he searched their storage rooms, and took some magic scrolls.

Then he hurried to their kitchen, and took their sweet rolls.

He cleaned out the whole house as quick as a flash.

Why that Nord, he even took their last serving of potato hash.

And he stuffed all of this into his sled and great glee.

"Now", the Nord said, "I'll take their whole tree!"

So he tried to tug the tree through the door, now wishing he'd shoved,

When he heard a small whimper like the coo of a dove.

So he quickly turned around, and said to himself, "Oh great."

It was little orphan Lucia, who was no more than eight.

The Dragonborn had been caught by this Imperial daughter,

Regretting that the children, he could not even slaughter.

She stared at the Nord and said:

"Santa Claus, why? Why are you taking their Saturalia tree? Why?"

You know that the Nord would try to lie to this peach,

But, unfortunately, the Nord had barely leveled up his Speech.

"W-why, sweet child", this fake Santa Claus lied,

"There's a candle on the tree that wouldn't light on one side.

S-so, I'm taking it home, to add a candle, good for use

Then I'll bring it back here- oh forget it. IIZ SLEN NUS"

So there laid the child, completely frozen in place,

And he pulled out the tree, and away the Nord raced

Hours later...

It was ten before 5, with the people still in bed.

All the people were still a-snooze, as he filled up his sled,

Packed it up with their presents, their decorations, and scrolls,

Their weapons, their septims, and, of course, their sweet rolls.

And the sled flew way up to the Throat of the World

So that the sled could be dropped down after the roosters all crowed.

"Ho-ho!", called the Nord, after some amused humming,

"Soon they'll find out that Saturalia is not coming.

They'll be waking up by now and I know what they'll do:

Their jaws will hang open and then they'll cry 'Boo-hoo-hoo!'

That's a noise,", the Nord said, "I simply must hear."

So he stayed as quiet as he could, and he perked up his ear.

The Dragonborn did hear a sound, rising from the snow.

It started up low, and then started to grow.

But the sound was not sad, but sounded rather merry.

It should've been so, but it was quite merry, very.

He stared down at Skyrim, and he popped out his eyes,

And he shook, as this sound was, for him, a surprise.

Every person in Skyrim, the tall and the small,

Was singing very merrily, without any presents at all.

He had not stopped Saturalia; it came.

Somehow, despite his work, it came just the same.

The Nord, with his feet ice cold in the snow,

Stood puzzling and puzzling. "How could it be so?!

It came without swords! It came without mead!

It came without jewelry, or candy, or farm animal feed!"

And puzzled, and puzzled, for three minutes or four,

Until he thought of something he hadn't before:

"Maybe, Saturalia doesn't come from a store.

Maybe, Saturalia, perhaps,… means a bit more."

What happened then? Well, in Winterhold they say,

That the Dragonborn's heart grew three sizes that day.

And at that moment, with his heart no longer tight,

He called Odahviing to make just one more flight.

And he brought back the gifts, from the toys to the scrolls,

And he… yes, the Dragonborn… gave Lucia some warm sweet rolls.

May you all have a happy Saturalia, and, asides from gift taggin',

When it comes to bringing cheer, remember please – no lollygaggin'.