I don't own Rise of the Guardians. Also, English is not even related to my first language so if you see any weirdness about the language, please tell me so I can learn. The temperatures mentioned in the story are Celsius (0= water freezes, 100= water boils, 37= normal human body temperature, 21 = comfortable room temperature).
Fun
The air was crisp and cold and he breathed in deeply. His exhale disappeared into the wind along with laughter and he tilted his body to the side to turn in the chilly air. Wind was tossing him around as easily as it would toss a snowflake, whisking him across the clear skies with speed that would make any mortal at least extremely light-headed. He had crossed the Ural Mountains just a few moments ago, heading towards the western border of Russia on his way across the taiga, which December had left white and freezing. December, along with a generous amount of help from him, that is. He was the Spirit of Winter after all. Jack Frost peered down towards the white-dusted forests that occasionally made way to cities and towns and villages that blinked with tacky Christmas lights in anticipation of the season of giving. It would only be two days before North would leave his workshop to deliver his gifts, and Jack could only imagine the strangely controlled chaos that now reigned in the North Pole, a place where he was very much forbidden to go at the moment. He might be a part of the Guardians now, but that didn't mean he had the right to get himself, his mischief and his icy powers on North's way this close to North's very own holiday. It was the first Christmas after that Easter after all.
But Jack didn't mind. He had a job to do as well. It had been snowing all night over Russia, and the snowploughs had worked through the early morning to clean up the streets to get the commuters going. And Jack just couldn't resist giving the now clean roads a small dusting of fresh snow. Just a tiny bit to make it look less sterile. And now he was drawn. Drawn towards a town called Volzhsk by the faint sounds of children laughing and squealing in delight. Jack slowed down just a bit and let the wind take him to a few extra rounds over Volzhsk to locate the source. Jack blinked once, twice, icy blue eyes scanning the area and spotting several bunches of colourful winter clothes. He stopped in the air, a gust of wind wrapping around him and keeping him airborne high above the town. His gaze settled for a more quiet-looking group of children and a grin split his face. Children not having fun outside? In a country that experienced so much snowfall that people had practically made dealing with the snow and having fun in it an art, no less. That would not do. Jack flipped in the air before diving down, picking up speed.
He turned right before he hit the ground, landing feet-first and disturbing the freshly fallen powder snow into a billowing cloud that clung to his already frosty hoodie and ancient trousers. His bare feet touched the frozen ground and he let out another laugh and wiped the snowflakes from his face. The local weather reports told the temperature to be a comfortable fifteen degrees below zero. It meant crispy air and crunchy snow. Too cold for snowballs or snowmen, but the snowploughs had left something that was arguably even better. The snow that had been on the nearby roads had been gathered into two huge piles to the side. They sat there like miniature mountains with jagged chunks of ice and powdery snow at the top. There were smoother sides that were just begging for someone to use them for sliding. The children were tentatively getting closer to the inviting piles of fun, and Jack could only wonder why they weren't going for it. It was a free playground of nature.
"Hey!" he shouted out loud, not even switching to Russian, even though he spoke it fairly well.
One of the children turned towards the shout. She was dressed in an off-white jacket that was a little too big and was probably a hand-me-down from her brother. Her round face was framed with blonde hair and her green eyes brightened when she looked at Jack. Jack's breath hitched with the unfamiliarity of recognition. It had been less than a year before he had been seen for the first time. Before he had been believed in. Jack lifted a hand and smiled again when the girl's face brightened. She shouted for him and tugged on the sleeve of her older brother, who also looked up. The girl's name was Svetlana and everyone called her Sveta. Her brother was Aleksandr and everyone called him Sasha. Jack had taken time to learn the names and faces of all of his new believers that he came across. The believers had started accumulating nicely all over the world – at least in the northern hemisphere – after one young boy in Burgess, USA, had first called his name and seen him... Soon Jack might have so many believers that the names and faces would start blending together and he wouldn't be able to keep track of them all. The thought of thousands, maybe millions of believers was exhilarating but Jack had to admit that the attention of just a few felt more than enough at the moment. It was nice to knowthem all.
The others were slowly turning to see what had got Sveta and Sasha so excited. Jack gave another wave and then, with a mischievous smile he took off running and sped across the thicker snow at the side of the road. It crunched softly under his feet but he barely sunk into it enough to make proper footprints. That was probably for the best, since the kids' parents might start lecturing them about the importance of proper footwear if they spotted the imprints of bare feet on the cold, cold snow. Of course, Jack didn't even feel it; his own body temperature was probably lower than the cold of snow. He ran to the snowdrifts with light steps, taking off into the air and landing on top of one of the piles. Sveta's eyes followed him, and the others also stared. Everyone except Sveta and Sasha were looking through Jack, though, so Jack followed their eyes to see what had caught their attention and prevented them from having fun. It wasn't very hard to spot, really. It was right there, wrapped in a patched black winter coat. It was a boy.
For a moment Jack felt hollow and cold and it had nothing to do with the weather. The boy was still and Jack was almost afraid to get closer. Was the kid hurt? The kid's empty eyes suddenly flared to life and he looked murderously at Jack's direction. Okay, not injured or anything. Just moping. Jack gave him a grin and leaned against his crooked staff, the ancient wood reassuringly cold between his fingers.
"Don't you look depressing," he said.
The boy didn't answer, and Jack realized that that the kid didn't even see him. He had probably just reacted to the cold breeze Jack couldn't help bringing with him wherever he went. Jack shrugged his bony shoulders and tapped his staff against the snow.
Ice spread from the staff and covered the top of the hill. The boy gasped in surprise and jumped to his feet. Jack laughed and took a couple of steps before reaching the edge and speeding to a slide. He dragged his staff behind him and slid down in a twisting, turning path that ended to a small bump he quickly improvised into a ramp. He was tossed into the air and the wind caught him and he flipped once, twice, three times before landing lightly on his feet. He motioned to Sveta, who had finally gathered the courage to scamper to the top of the hill to the moping kid. Sveta's eyes were shining with excitement as she eyed the twisting slide that went all the way down their snowplough-crafted mountain.
"Sveta!" Jack shouted and nodded his head towards the moping kid. Just a little push, and it would all be good. At least for a while.
Sveta looked at Jack and then to the kid. Then she nudged the kid's shoulder and received a murderous glare in return. Sveta stepped back in apprehension, but then she gave a bubbly giggle and pushed the boy down to the icy slide that was so slippery that the boy didn't have time to register anything before he had picked up speed and started shouting almost instinctively out of joy.
The kid's ride ended safely in the soft snow next to Jack's feet, and Jack hit the air with his fist and jumped higher than it was physically possible for normal humans. The mopy kid got up, dusted himself and then looked around, his gaze lingering at the faint traces of extra footprints in the snow. His eyes flickered towards Jack but didn't quite focus. Jack held his breath and readied a few of his joy-inspiring snowflakes in case the kid was still mad. But he wasn't. Jack could recognize the start of a smile playing on the kid's lips.
"Can you see me?" Jack asked before remembering where he was and repeated the question in Russian. The boy didn't answer. Then Sasha came up behind Sveta and pushed her down and that was when a game of King of the Hill started. Laughter and shouts and sounds of fun filled the air in that corner of Volzhsk. The moping kid turned and sprinted across the knee-deep snow back to the hill to join in. And there was happiness bubbling up in Jack's chest, and he sprang up into the air, conjuring up a bunch of wild snowflakes around him that tumbled to the ground and softened the landings of the kids who happened to fall to the less thick snow. The game got rougher and more excited and went on before some of the parents braved the coldness to call the children back inside for lunch. The children reluctantly obliged, everyone a bit bruised and with red runny noses but undeniably happy. Even the moping kid – who Jack guessed from the other kids' shouts was called Misha – ran inside after casting a glance to Jack's direction and for a moment Jack wondered if the sudden surge of power he felt somewhere in his chest was because of that or just because someone else somewhere had started believing. Sveta and Sasha waved at him and Jack waved back with a smile that was so wide it almost hurt.
"Do svidaniya!" he yelled after the kids in accented Russian and then he was off again, wishing he could stay for longer. But Christmastime was busy for Jack Frost as well. People seemed to really like white Christmases especially in the north, and Jack was happy to oblige, especially now that he was seen. Believed in. It was going to the first Christmas when he wouldn't be alone. Being actually recognized for one's work was a fantastic motivational boost.
Jack even had a plan of action. Really. He would fly over the rest of Russia, stirring up a small blizzard over St. Petersburg – those fancy museums looked like cakes and were just begging for some icing – and then heading for the Nordics. The fjords in Norway were especially nice when contrasting with a good dusting of snow. Heck, maybe he would have a small break somewhere in Vatnajökull. It was very nice this time of the year. Then he would head over the Atlantic to Canada and then over the northern parts of the States and be sneaking a peek to North's workshop by the late evening. Of course, he might be slightly off the schedule if he was again distracted by fun. But fun was a perfectly acceptable distraction, right? He was the Guardian of it, after all.
Jack had to admit that he had a special fondness for the countries at the areas of the boreal forest. Sure, the southern hemisphere had its merits, definitely. And Jack was every now and then eager to brave the warmer climate to see the more southern countries. But the good snowy winter in the south was mostly restricted to the mountains with less people. The people in the north had lived with snow all their lives and they really did know how to have fun in winter. It was also always a good place to go to if Jack wanted an actual challenge with closing down schools. The people there were skiing, skating, running, sledding, playing football in waist-deep snow, even swimming in frozen lakes – that last part being something Jack could never, ever understand. All those different winter sports that drove kids and adults alike outside to brave the cold even with the iPods and iPhones and iWhatevers taking up an unnecessary amount of their time. And of course, when doing his rounds around the northern world he could always swerve to Burgess to see Jamie and the others, his first believers, and give them a good snow day or two.
Jack was distracted from his merry thoughts when he felt the weather getting steadily warmer. Well, warmer compared to the areas he had previously flown through. It was getting closer to zero. That meant wet snow that could be moulded to snowballs. A fun distraction. He could definitely accept that. He shot down to the nearest group of children to give them a good old snowball fight. Soon he felt the happiness of spreading fun bubbling up again.
Winter could take so many forms of fun. And Jack Frost loved his work because of it.