A Portrait's World Apart
Elsa was upstairs in her archive in the castle of Arendelle, examining a tentative trade agreement with the Kingdom of Corona down south. After the merriment commemorating the end of the debacle of Elsa's unintentional eternal winter seven years ago its been nothing but business, business, business. The queen sometimes thought to herself if she made a brash decision to cut off ties with Weselton years ago, still, the Duke did authorize her assassination and that in itself is grounds for severing of diplomacy.
She pinched her forehead after the paperwork finally began to dull her mind and cause it to throb. As if on cue (because why not?) a butler came in, "Would you care for a hint of tea, your Highness?"
"That would be lovely," Elsa sat on her comfy lounge chair by the side as the butler poured some fresh tea on the nearby table. After a sip Elsa breathed in deep and exhaled long and hard to calm her aching nerves.
"Will that be all, milady?"
"Yes, that will be all, thank you."
"My pleasure, your Highness," the butler was about to proceed outside the room when he turned back to inform her of some important thing coming up, "By the way, your highness, you haven't forgotten about it, have you?"
"About what?"
"Lord Baldur, the Royal Portraitist, it seems he has returned after his long sojourn around the world."
That name rang fond old memories in her head – Baldur, he was an old friend of Elsa's parents, and a talented artist. Her mother used to say that when her father ascended the throne, Baldur was made the Royal Portraitist, and the many paintings about the walls were, for the most part, his masterpieces. Baldur was like an uncle to Anna and her growing up, but at some point he departed to "broaden his horizons" as he put it.
Elsa received a message not too long ago about his return, and she had been waiting for this day since, wondering if maybe he had painted some interesting things about the world he could share with her.
"Thank you, please make sure to inform me when his boat arrives, I would very much like to greet him warmly."
"I shall inform the Harbormaster with all due haste, your Highness."
After he left, Elsa stared out the window, outside was Anna and Kristoff, playing with their young son and daughter as they've been for awhile. She promised Anna that she would handle the kingdom-running duties while she and Kristoff raised a family together, and something about it didn't ring quite well with Elsa, at least at first; Anna was impulsive and prone to flinging herself into things she had no idea nor preparation for, and yet here she was doing her very best to be a good mother and wife to her children and Kristoff, respectively.
That aside, Elsa did feel a tiny bit envious. Anna and Kristoff were going about raising a family and possibly inheriting the kingdom when she, inevitably, kicks the bucket. Elsa wished she could make her mark and found a family of her own, but she hadn't found the one, and with a heavy heart, pondered if she never will.
(Another world away)
Jack Frost, the mischievous spirit of winter, sat patiently in the middle of a great park. It was autumn and the leaves turned assorted shades of red, orange, yellow and gold. He was getting ready to begin another season of powder-white and crystalline blue, when kids built fortresses of frost and snowballs to wage mock war with one another.
In the meantime, this quiet period of listening to the wind rustling in the leaves was a good way to relax and calm himself before the storm, and he wanted to listen in on how the people wanted to have their winter to be like, as winters were notoriously unpredictable whenever he wasn't around to stir it in the right direction.
Turning his head about while gliding above the oblivious crowds, Jack observed the people busy passing through the park lanes getting ready for the holiday season. Primarily, he saw young and old people in pairs, taking in the fall beauty before winter came in full force; there were a wide assortment of them – like young grade school students blushing as they walked with each other and held hands, or teenagers carving names in heart-shaped borders on trees, or a pair of old folks sitting down feeding the pigeons. All this happiness however, seemed to penetrate him like an ice-cutting saw slicing chunks of ice from a frozen fjord, not because he couldn't be seen and the fact no one could see him to share in their merriment, but because he had no one to share it with.
Was it family? He pondered, he already had one – his sister, the children who believed in him, his fellow Guardians. But no, it wasn't quite that sort of family. It was the sight of a father and mother, with a little stroller carrying their little one, that answered his question: they leaned together as they walked to stay warm while their baby cooed and squealed with joy; maybe... Jack longed for a family of this kind? Who could say?
He stopped hovering when he eyed a stranger painting something by a patch of grass overlooking a view of the park bridge, yet he wasn't painting the scene in front of him, but something, or rather someone, else.
The painting was primarily that of a ghostly yet serene lake frozen in the height of winter, on the ice, decked in a beautiful frosty blue dress and wearing skating shoes, was a fair maiden, with platinum-blonde hair merrily skidding gracefully about the ice. Breathtaking though it was, Jack noticed something unusual about the scene, he couldn't quite figure it out when something unexpected occurred.
"Beautiful, is she not?"
Jack was surprised, and nearly fell back when the realization that this painter knew of his existence.
"Don't be afraid, Jack, the Guardians and children aren't the only ones for whom you are visible."
Awkwardly he tried to resume his casual demeanor, "Wow, I mean, um... that's a breathtaking painting, mister...?"
"Baldur, I am called Baldur."
What an unusual name, Jack mused for himself, "So... who is she?"
"Why does it matter?" Baldur replied bluntly.
"I'm just curious, that's all."
Baldur glanced him for three seconds, and could read through his curiosity like an open book, "You look as though you've found something missing, Mister Frost."
Sighing in resignation, Jack admitted that there was more than awe for the majesty of the painting that glued his sight to it, "This woman on the portrait, she seems to be enjoying herself in the snow."
"And...?" Baldur seemed to be expecting more, and he received it.
"I think... she's missing something." Again, Jack felt there was something not quite right about the portrait, but he still couldn't put a finger on it.
That is until his gaze moved to her hands; Baldur could sense him catching on too.
"Her hands..." Jack started, "they look like they're supposed to be holding on to something, and her face..." Looking at her face, that's when he noticed something else, too.
"She looks like she's looking at someone, very intently, and with love in her eyes."
Yet she was just there skidding with no one holding her but thin air.
"Who is she supposed to be skating with?"
"Whoever you want her to, Jack."
"What does that mean?"
"What does it mean to you?"
"Is that a trick question?"
"Only because you're tricking yourself."
Jack bent his head and rubbed his nose bridge. This Baldur person was annoyingly vague.
"Mom, look, it's snow!" Jack whirled to see a young boy pointing at the tiny snowflakes beginning to fall from the heavens. Winter was about to begin, and a little sooner than Jack would have liked.
"It looks like I have work to see about, sorry old man but I guess I'll have to cut our little discussion short."
"Think nothing of it, boy, we'll see each other again."
(Arendelle again)
A humble, well-worn cog docked at the harbor of Arendelle and the Queen, her entourage, and her extended family, stood with anticipation for the person onboard.
The gangplank was lowered and from the ship stepped down a man with a deep navy blue cloak lowered to show his head and face. He was a man of about his late forties, yet it was kind of hard to tell since his face was so smooth he never has to shave. His head was full of electric blue hair with a single braid hanging by the right temple of his forehead.
Anna and Elsa walked towards him, and hugged him tight as family members would, Elsa was the first to speak, "Uncle Baldur, you're finally home!"
"Ho ho, good day, Anna, Elsa, I'm sorry I haven't been around lately."
Anna butted in, "You mean at all! Where were you, Uncle? You could have sent us some of your fancy paintings!"
"Oh I'm sorry, girls, but you know the world is a big place, you should have seen it."
"Ooh, you should tell us, Uncle Baldur!"
As they proceeded out the docks, Anna introduced Baldur to her husband, Kristoff, "Oh, Uncle Baldur, this is my husband, Kristoff, Royal Ice Deliverer of Arendelle."
Baldur chuckled, and bent down to Elsa, "Is that a thing?"
Elsa whispered in to him, "Just play along with it, Anna requested I did."
Kristoff extended a hand to shake, "Nice to meet you, I believe Anna already stated my name so..."
Baldur brought his hand to Kristoff, "Pleasure to meet you, my good man."
Behind Kristoff were two tiny tykes, a redheaded little boy and a wee tiny blonde girl.
Baldur knelt down and tilted his head to get a better look, "My, what precious little youngsters you have."
"Come on out kids, no need to be shy," Kristoff shifted his position to let his and Anna's kids be seen.
Anna decided to take the initiative and introduce them, "This is Gustaf, he's my energetic little youngster, you wouldn't believe the distance he can cover on a sled, Uncle Baldur. I swear he'll outpace Kristoff one day!"
Little Gustaf chided in, "I'm still no match for Pop, Mama."
Anna scooped him snuggly, "Oh no need to be shy, Gustaf, you know it's true!"
Baldur turned to the little girl sticking close to cover by her father's pants, "And who are you, little one?"
Kristoff took the honor of introducing her himself, "This is our precious little princess, Agatha. She's not much for conversation, you might say she takes after her aunt Elsa than Anna or I."
Baldur took little Agatha's hand, "No need to be afraid, little one, I'm as much family as your parents," he flashed one of those winning smiles and that seemed to warm the little one enough to smile comfortably to him, she reached a hand to shake, Baldur obliged.
It was an oddity hiding under a small snow flurry that caught his attention behind all of them.
The snowman extended his little branch, "Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs."
Baldur couldn't help but chuckle to himself, "Hello, Olaf, it's nice to meet you."
"Wow, it's so nice to see family come together again, I feel like singing..." Anna and Kristoff gathered to stop him.
"Maybe another time, Olaf." both giggled a little nervously.
After some more catching up, Elsa and the rest brought him back to the castle and presented his old quarters, which was re-furbished to pristine condition, as how it was just before he departed.
"I hope everything is as you asked, Uncle."
"It's just beautiful, my dear, it will be good to paint in Arendelle again."
"Well, I'd best be off, I still have a dozen matters to attend to."
"Take care, Elsa."
(A World Away)
In a tiny woodland cottage isolated from the rest of town, was a man in his late forties, it was difficult to tell though, given how clean-shaven his face was (now where have we heard this before?) he was wearing a padded leather jacket of a navy blue and white long jeans. He stared outside the window and saw that winter was now upon the land, he smiled, no doubt that spunky kid with the white hair was at it.
He sat down and started heating some water in a kettle before settling down to the easel and began work on another art piece.
Outside the window, a lanky youth, barefoot and filled with questions to ask, glided down by a small drift near Baldur's window, and silently shifted through the window like a ghost. Baldur expected his company, and addressed Jack's presence.
"You should make a habit to knock, Jack."
"I prefer more direct pathways, but enough about that. I'm hear to see my question answered."
(Arendelle castle, nighttime)
"Uncle Baldur, it's time for dinner." Elsa peered into his room and saw that he was just finishing up.
"I'll be there in a minute, dear, in the meantime, why don't you come in and check out my paintings? You might find something that will interest you."
Elsa stepped in and admired Baldur's amazing gallery of paintings, adorned about the room in a beautiful panorama of scenes, peoples, and objects.
"You're still as impressive as ever, Uncle."
"Thank you, my dear, all these pieces were inspired by my adventures throughout the world, these pictures in particular."
He presented her with an interesting selection chronicling some of his more interesting adventures.
Here he presented his journey through the world through his paintings: an ogre betrothed to a princess, a land of warriors and cursed bear-men, a city of gold beyond the Ocean Sea, a mermaid who united men and merfolk, an island of dragon tamers, a kind-hearted but disfigured hunchback who lives in a tall church bell tower, and a country of talking animals skilled in exotic fighting styles.
"You've certainly seen many things in your travels, Uncle."
"It's merely a taste of of what I've seen in my assorted portraits so far, but I figured I have enough time doing the rest in my spare time in Arendelle."
While Elsa marveled at the various paintings and portraits, one in particular struck a chord in her more than the others.
It was a painting of a serene but eerie lake in the height of the frozen season, and skating about the ice was an elegant stranger with silver-white hair, gliding with bliss across the frozen lake. Elsa had to admit, he looked very handsome, albeit a very wild kind of handsome, like a wolf in the drifts sprinting with his mate.
Which made her notice the oddity in the painting immediately, "He looks so happy and in love... but there's nothing there."
"What do you mean, Elsa?"
"I mean, this painting... it looks incomplete."
"Only because you see it that way, Elsa."
"What do you mean? What have I to do with the painting?"
"This painting has everything to do with you."
"I don't understand, Uncle."
"Does this mean you like the young man in the painting, my dear?"
"What? No! Uncle, stop with these mind games and just answer my question!"
At this point, Baldur found himself in that special moment, the moment he knew when he, two worlds away, separated by a mere easel and some layer of paint, was synchronized perfectly in either that he could join two into one; something he was looking forward to for years.
(At this point Baldur's two halves are going to converse with Jack and Elsa, the sentences will be the same except for minor differences marked by a "/" symbol)
"What question?" Baldur feigned ignorance.
"He/She is all alone in this portrait, yet he/she looks so happy, and yet no one is there to indicate why, or who he/she is happy with."
Jack and Elsa didn't understand why they were getting so worked up over something as simple as a portrait, but here they were, going up in arms over it.
"Jack/Elsa, why all this fuss over a mere portrait that I've made?"
They both placed a palm on the portrait from their side, and for some reason, they felt a tingling warmth from it, like... like... a bond that permeated outside and inside the canvas right before themselves.
"I don't know, I... I know it's just a silly portrait, but... he/she feels so alive, and I guess, well, I've been looking for someone lately... someone who I feel, who I know, would be willing to spend forever with me."
Baldur looked at the both of them with a joyous, cheery smile. Neither Jack nor Elsa realized that, at that very moment, Baldur saw the both of them standing together in his transdimensional vision, and maybe he could help make that sight a reality for the both of them.
"Jack/Elsa, would you like to meet the one in my painting?"
I'm not sure whether I should keep this a one-shot or a full-fledged story, I mean, I have the makings of it in my head, but I can't put it down just by myself. Well, we'll see what happens as you review my little contribution to the Jelsa fandom.
I hope you also got the reference to the Disney and Dreamworks animated canon in the paintings, by the way.