Silently, in the dead of night, they slip into the tent. Around them, light snores fill the room. They move quickly and lightly, with the ease of practice. Careful to not disturb the sleeping occupants, socks are gathered from the floor, footlockers, and the occasional tent post. There is work to be done, and they haven't much time.
Pausing at the curly-haired man's cot, socks strewn about, the head elf pauses. He knows his job, knows the job of his crew, but this -- shaking his head, he moves on.
No, even those socks are too much for his men.