I do not own Rise of the Guardians, and though I own a copy of the official movie novelization, I do not own the story itself.
I recently purchased a copy of the movie novelization, and though I know it was meant for children, one thing that struck me was how juvenile the writing style was. So I decided (no offense to the author) to make it more suitable for a larger audience, because not only children loved Rise of the Guardians.
Chapter 1 - Shaken
It was cold.
Long ago, the surface of a frozen pond cracked when Jack Frost rose out of the icy water. He floated as if suspended by trick wires, up over the surface until he was lowered back to the icy surface of the pond. He was thin, pale, and barefoot. He wore hunter's trousers and a cloak of deer skin, but he didn't know that. His white hair glistened like silver fire as he turned is head, taking in his surroundings. Nothing was familiar, not even his own reflection in the ice.
He was scared.
Jack looked up at the sky. Somehow, the only thing that was familiar was the glowing orb above him. The moon. It was so big, and it was so bright, and it seemed to chase the darkness away. And when it did…he wasn't scared anymore.
Jack took a step forward. It wasn't cold anymore as his bare feet padded along the surface of the pond. Another cautious step and his toe hit something. He reached down to pick up a long branch, more of a staff than anything. From his fingertips, glowing bluish frost spread along the entire length of the wood, twisting like the last leaf of fall meandering on the first breath of winter's first storm.
Jack nearly dropped the staff in his surprise. As the base of the staff came in contact with the surface of the pond, the same icy tendrils that had spun out from his fingertips shot out across the ice. Almost involuntarily, Jack shook his head. What was going on?
Experimenting, he touched the staff to a tree. It sent a stream of frost up the trunk.
The staff was magical, but not only that. He was magical, too. A slight stumble on the slick surface of the pond sent him cartwheeling into the air, held aloft only by the wind. It whispered to him as it tossed him around, and then promptly dropped him.
Jack bounced off branch after branch until he finally managed to grab hold of one. From his position far above the ground, Jack saw a small town. He crouched on the limb for a second longer, holding his crouched position like a cat. Trusting the wind to catch him, he flung himself off the branch and back into the sky. Perhaps he would be able to find some answers in the town.
The wind set Jack down by a group of settlers, warming themselves by a fire. "Hello," he greeted, "Hello. Good evening."
The townspeople walked by Jack as if he wasn't there at all.
"Ma'am?" He stopped beside a young woman with dark hair. She didn't seem to see him.
He knelt to be at eye level with a young boy, "Excuse me. Can you tell me where I am?"
The boy didn't stop, and ran right through Jack.
"Hello! Hello!" Jack shouted. There wasn't even an echo of response.
It was then Jack realized he was invisible. No one could hear him, no one could see him.
Around him, a light snow began to fall. His fear was the cause, though he did not know how he knew that.
Shaken, Jack returned to the forest. He settled in a bank of snow on the shore of his pond. He could easily see the hole from which he had emerged, but his gaze was drawn back to the sky, to the moon.
Jack Frost.
That was his name. For a long time, that was all he knew. It was all the moon had ever told him. As the years passed him by, Jack began to wonder why.
Why was he created? Why was he abandoned?
But most importantly, what was he supposed to do?
~~~~~300 years later~~~~~
North's fortress was hidden far away in the—well, in the north. Nestled in the corner of a glacier, it looked out over a valley of ice. It was high enough up the glacier that North was safe from attack from the back, and anyone who approached from the front was spotted well in advance.
North did not receive many visitors. Few knew of the existence of the palace in the ice, and even fewer knew its master as 'North.' Santa Claus's palace was enormous, crowded, busy, noisy—and the world's best kept secret.
To the rest of the world, North was known as Santa.
To be allowed past the huge double doors and into the Workshop was a privilege allotted to a select few. At any given time, North's famous (and massive) red coat and matching cap cast long shadows across the floor in the ever-shining light of the midnight sun. North himself worked in a corner office, and was never seen without a huge block of ice.
North raised a chainsaw to the block of ice. A tattoo decorated his forearm, displaying the 'Naughty' list in ancient characters. Sharp bits of frozen water splattered through the Workshop as he worked.
Three elves in red suits topped with bells stood in the Workshop's doorway, munching on the cookies meant for North.
"Still waiting for cookies!" North's deep, Russian-accented voice boomed through the vast space of his workshop, prompting his elves to scramble to return the cookies to their plate.
His little helpers scooted out of the way as North flopped back into his rolling chair and then reached out toward a rack of work tools. Grabbing a tiny hammer, he pushed up his sleeves and bent over his masterpiece, displaying a tattoo on his other arm, reading "Nice."
With delicate and precise movements, North made a few final cuts into the ice block. When the sculpture was complete, North raised the frozen locomotive he'd created and placed it carefully on a frozen track. The train roared to life, belching chilly vapour before chugging away.
North selected a cookie from the plate. He watched with wide eyes as his toy hit a loop and then launch into the air. Wings unfolded from the ice and a jet engine sizzled to action.
In watching the toy soar around his Workshop, North jumped as the door to the Workshop burst open with a heavy bang and crashed into the flying train. The ice train crashed to the ground, sliding across the floor in a million pieces.
A huge, hairy, abominable snowman flung himself into the room. The yeti had a worried expression across his furry brow; one North immediately took note of.
North stared down at the toy, shaking his head.
The yeti began to shout, "Arghbal…"
"How many times have I told you to knock?" North asked with a sigh, spinning towards the door to face the huge beast.
"Warga blarghgha!" the yeti replied.
"What?" North narrowed his eyes. He jumped to his feet, already moving out of the room, "The Globe?" he drew his sword from its sheath as he went.
Outside his office North pushed through a crowd of panicking elves. The bells on their hats jingled as North passed by. He shouldered through a crowd of yetis, all with their eyes fixed on one thing.
The Globe of Belief sat in the center of his fortress. Its diameter was twice North's considerable height, and it was covered with blazing light. Tiny bulbs blanketed each continent, each representing a child who believed.
"Shoo, with your pointy heads!" North called out to the elves, threatening to crush them with each of his large, quick steps, "Why are you always underboot?"
"What is this?" North asked the yeti who had reported the problem. Hundreds of lights were dark. Squinting at the Globe, North was shocked as more and more lights turned off. It was as if someone, or something, was shutting them down by the thousands.
"Have you checked the axis?" North barked to his yetis, "Is the rotation balanced?"
Bobbing his head, the closest yeti nodded, "Wardle bawddrel."
A gust of wind blew in through the open skylight. It brought with it a blanket of sand, black as pitch and just as foreboding. The sand crept over the lights, snuffing them out in large blocks until the entire Globe was covered.
A chorus of bells and screams rose up as the elves went into hysterics.
Gritty darkness swirled off the Globe and filled the room, funneling upwards into a massive twister. The twister spun towards the ceiling and burst into a puff of smoke, gone as quickly as it had come.
The room settled into tense silence. Not even the elves dared move.
One by one, the lights on the Globe returned, and everything seemed to return to normal…until the shadow appeared. Long and dark, the shadow of a man flitted across the floor, dashed up the walls and circled the Globe, before disappearing with an echoing laugh.
North stared at the place where the shadow ad disappeared, "Can it be?" he muttered. He called to one of his elves, "Dingle!"
The elf appeared at North's side.
"Make preparations," North directed, "We are going to have company!"
The elf nodded as North reached out to grasp a large lever. He twisted a dial and pulled down hard. The Globe began to glow and a beam of light zoomed up the axis shaft, towards the roof, and out into the world. Four strands of Aurora Borealis twisted their way towards four different places, towards four different people.
For the first time in decades, North had summoned the Guardians to the Pole.