A/N: So this is my favorite poem right now, and I painted this really pretty picture in my head of a scene with Jamie standing at the pond in the forest, but I don't have any drawing abilities so I tried the next best thing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, and "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" was written by Robert Frost.
Trigger warning: One line mention of suicidal thoughts.
His breaths came out in small clouds as he trudged through the ever deepening snow. Jamie could no longer feel his fingers, but it mattered not. He was drawing closer and closer still to his destination.
"Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though,
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow."
Jamie finally came to a stop, eyeing the frozen pond. The dark woods opening as he drew nearer. He looked up at the moon, full and bright, and a single thought crossed his mind, 'Jack Frost'. His face was numb, he briefly wondered what he was doing, standing in the middle of the frozen wood, with snow cascading around him.
"My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year."
The silence was strange. It wasn't the deafening silence of cruelty; it was as if the night was whispering to him. The large snowflakes landed with a small whisper, each unique, each something specially for Jamie. It was the peaceful silence, solitude.
"He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake,
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake."
Yes, it had been years since he'd seen the winter spirit. Jamie used to hold onto hope, "He'll come back soon," he always told himself. But he grew weary with time, Jack's absence weighing on his soul. Jamie could feel himself slipping a little more each day. Jamie's eyes had grown dull, losing their life. He looked toward the lake once more, for the briefest of moments thinking about how inviting the ice water would be, shutting out all his senses, giving himself to the darkness. With a shuddering breath he turned slowly, beginning his way home.
"I will always believe in you, Jack, " he whispered it into the night, the air no longer biting, just embracing.
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."