7.
Jack passed the rest of that Winter peacefully with his family, telling them all about the Cavern, but omitting what he'd seen in Jokul Frosti's journal. They didn't need to know any of that depressing stuff, better not to bring the darkness into their happy lives intentionally. Unlike his last visit, this one was not plagued with earth shattering disasters. The weather was back to normal and for once, he felt completely at ease with himself. He spent a lot of time with his nephew, swaddling him and lending Emily and Tom as much help as he could muster. His attention divided between them and the other village children, Winter passed in a whirlwind of fun activity. One evening, while he was watching Ben to give Emily and Tom a break from the crying baby, he caught a tendril of gold sand snaking in through the open window. It sprinkled a helping of the sand on the heads of all three of his family and retreated, leaving them smiling with dancing figures of the sweetest dreams floating over their heads. Emily and Tom dreamt of each other and little Ben, well, his dreams were indistinct blobs and faces, what you'd expect babies to dream of.
Curious, he followed it outside and was surprised to find hundreds of those tendrils leading back to a massive floating golden cloud. Flying high up into the air, he landed softly on the solid mass of sand that squished between his toes. In the center of the sea of gold, there was a little man waving his arms around like a conductor at work on stage with a tiny smile plastered onto his face. Jack took cautious steps forward, wondering at the feel of the sand he was standing on hundreds of feet in the air. While he was distracted, a thick coil of sand wrapped around his ankle and flipped him upside down, whipping him in a smooth arc and dangled him in front of the sand man. He looked Jack up and down, er, well, down and up and decided somehow that Jack was harmless and dropped him unceremoniously on his head. Jack groaned and looked up to see the sandman staring down at him, symbols flashing rapidfire over his head.
"Uh hi, I'm Jack Frost," Jack said as he righted himself, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snuck up on you."
The sandman's symbols stopped on an exclamation mark floating over his head, followed by a snowflake and a question mark.
"Yep, I'm the Steward of Winter," Jack chuckled as the sandman clapped his hands silently together. Suddenly, he could feel a presence worming into his mind. He got impressions, rather than words this time. Sandman, er, Sandy, as he got the impression to say in his mind, didn't communicate in words at all and never had. Sandy communicated to him that he was glad to meet Jack and that he'd sensed the weather regulate this last decade. Assisted by Sandy's sign language, Jack found out that Sandy was the being who made the dreams of everyone on Earth sweet and happy. Jack spent the whole evening with Sandy on the cloud of golden sand zipping around the world. It was strange, how the cloud moved. While he was sure that they must have been moving at speeds fast enough to peel the skin from his face, he felt nothing other than a slight and gentle breeze. It was as if the space around them moved, rather than the cloud. Sandy went about his business at every town and maneuvered fistfuls of dream sand into hundreds of tendrils that illuminated darkened streets and spawned fanciful creatures borne of peoples' dreams. Figures made completely of golden sand wandered through the streets and cast a benevolent glow of energy through the streets. The two spoke, or rather Jack spoke and Sandy signed, well through the night and Jack learned that Sandy was a pilot of a shooting star once, whatever that meant. Jack could tell Sandy was old-older perhaps than the other seasonal spirits. Jack didn't want to pry, but he really enjoyed the companionable silence he and Sandy shared.
Jack spent the next few evenings just hanging out with Sandy, who seemed to enjoy Jack's presence on the cloud. They spoke of things like the children of the village and Jack's control of the cold energies. Sandy delighted in being able to communicate so easily with someone and turned out to have a sense of humor that could rival Jack's own. He told wild stories about his friends, other immortals, who defended children from the darkness. Sandy didn't mention what the darkness was, but Jack shrugged it off, choosing instead to listen to the time Sandy put someone called the Bunnymund to sleep and painted him bright pink from head to toe. In turn, Jack told Sandy all about the time he surprised Mr. B by flying out at him from inside a snowman. The conversation inevitably moved towards Jokul Frosti's journal and Jack found himself telling the little man everything. They sat cross-legged, facing each other as Jack related his story from start to finish. Sandy interrupted from time to time with a question or two, but stayed silent for most of the story, the slightest hint of a frown forming on his face. When he finished, he was somehow afraid to look at Sandy, fearing the pity that he would find in the little man's face. Instead, however, Sandy stood and gave Jack a firm hug around the neck, which he could reach when Jack was seated. Then, Sandy communicated something to him that, for the first time, he couldn't understand. It felt something like weight and understanding. Jack didn't get it and he shook his head, looking apologetic.
The sand above Sandy's head formed a tiny sculpture of Jack and then of the sun and moon passing rapidly over its head. In Jack's mind, Sandy impressed upon him the idea of change, running like a circle over and over again. The sand above his head changed and the figure of Jack held out its hands and a heart appeared in it. Sandy took one of Jack's hands and placed it over Jack's chest, conveying the idea of stasis, not stagnancy, but unchanging preservation. The sand changed again. This time, Jack's figure held the world hovering between his palms and changed again to show the figure standing amidst other people, its hand resting over its heart, imitating the pose Jack still held. Sandy impressed the idea of weight and power and then suffering, then everything stopped. With his hands, Sandy took the figure of Jack and presented it to the real Jack, who sat still with his brow furrowed in confusion. The little man looked expectant, but patient as if giving Jack permission to think it through.
After a long silence, Jack spoke. "So even though immortality will make the world pass
by me, my heart won't change?" Sandy nodded sagely. He made the sun and moon pass over the figure's head again and impressed hollowness. A second figure appeared beside the first and Jack realized he was seeing an exact replica of the aged Jokul Frosti he'd seen in his vision. Taken aback, Jack shot a questioning look at Sandy, who seemed only to be waiting for him to speak.
"Time took away Jokul Frosti's humanity?" Jack was confused, not quite grasping the ideas as they came. Sandy shook his head and gently impressed the same ideas as before, emphasizing the hollowness as a lack of understanding, without ideas.
"Time separated Jokul from the world and took his understanding of it." Sany inclined his head and impressed the idea of a human, fragile and brief. "...his understanding of humanity and life." Sandy look pleased and the figure of Jokul dissolved.
"My heart won't change even though the world around me will. I understand life because I was alive and that is why I am different from Jokul." Sandy impressed suffering again and then humanity.
"I understand suffering? Human suffering? That's why I'm not like Jokul? Sandy, I'm not sure I follow. Jokul lost family too, all of them-the others before me-they lost so much. It felt so much worse than human suffering. I don't see how this makes me a better Winter spirit."
A whirlwind of impressions later, Jack spoke again, understanding a bit more. "So the kind of suffering that I know is human and that's important because it's the kind that heals. The other spirits suffered in a way that made them hate to the point that they destroyed things. I have compassion because I suffer and heal the human way, so my heart guards me from being like them." Jack held out his hands, "And my powers, even though I can't do a lot to change the way the world works, allow me to help out with life on Earth surviving. I do that anyway because I know human suffering and understand life because of the memories I keep in my heart. Other immortals lose the memory of life because time takes it away from them."
Finally satisfied, Sandy nodded and patted Jack on the shoulder as one would a child. Jack's heart felt lighter than it had in weeks and he looked at Sandy with new eyes.
"You know, I'm still taller than you even when I sit down." Sandy punched him good naturedly on the shoulder.
"Ow, ow okay, squatting not a good idea. Shoulders too easy to target. You have fists of stone, my friend." Sandy only smiled, as if to say I have no idea what you mean.
For the rest of that Winter Jack spent every day with his family and every evening with Sandy. Over his long evening visits with Sandy, he got to know more about Sandy's friends, other immortals, as Jack was surprised to find. They were called the Guardians of Childhood who came to be within the past thousand years, kind of young by Sandy's standards, but old enough that Jack knew they must be pretty powerful. Sandy showed him the figure of a portly man with a growing beard, a hummingbird-human hybrid, and a...giant fluffy animal?
"You telling me one of those bouncy things I saw in New Holland is an immortal?" Jack was confused. Evidently, Sandy was confused too. He didn't know anything about what the humans were calling landmasses these days. He was also unaware of what the "bouncy thing" Jack spoke of was. He flashed several pictures at Jack, including a rabbit, several amphibians, and things he'd seen on other planets.
"No, no, here. Lemme show you." Jack squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the creature he pictured in his mind. A translucent hopping creature with a long tail, long ears, and a pouch appeared in the air.
"It worked! See this? I think I heard a local call it a gangurru or something. Is this what he is?" Distracted by the marvelous trick Jack pulled, Sandy wasn't too concerned with what Jack wanted to call E. Aster Bunnymund. The creature had long ears like Aster and big feet like Aster and pouch like Aster's bag, so Sandy shrugged and just agreed with Jack, much more interested in examining the cool thing made of blue energy hopping around in mid-air. Jack looked incredulous, but entertained Sandy with his new trick for the rest of the evening.
The Winter passed quickly after that and Jack left more easily this time, knowing that he could come back the next year. Winter in the Southern half of the world was uneventful as usual and after a short stay in the Cavern, he flew off to explore parts of Africa and learned a fair bit of the native languages and even met another immortal named Anansi who looked like a giant spider with a human torso. They chatted in Anansi's tree for a time. Anansi was old, too, and talked to Jack about his experiences.
"Hmm yes I did some strange things when I was younger. I have many stories I could give you, but not many are still known to the humans. It's been much too long. I tricked a god who doesn't really exist anymore into giving me these stories and I went to a lot of trouble for them. It's silly to think of it now, but I'll tell you since you're so eager." Anansi folded his many legs underneath him and told his stories. Jack looked at him reverently, though there was something slightly off about Anansi. When Anansi was finished, Jack said, "You are absolutely my idol. Can I be your apprentice or something? You whole life is practically an amazing achievement in trickery and practical jokes."
"That is flattering, but no." Anansi flashed his white teeth, "I must return to my wife now, but do come back and show me that lovely staff of yours. I quite like it." Jack waved goodbye to Anansi jovially and flew away, though he held onto his staff a little tighter.
Jack spent most of Southern Winter in a similar manner and flew all around the Middle East and places where Winter longer, learning languages and meeting immortals. He didn't quite find everything or have time to learn everything, but he thought it was a good start. Jack spent some time thinking in the Cavern when Southern Winter first began. He thought about just sitting in a trance, idly monitoring the weather, but then thought about Jokul Frosti and the others who'd come before him. All of them had scrounged for knowledge on the world in an attempt to find out more about themselves and their powers. Who was he to take immortality for granted? If he was truly the first Winter spirit to be permanent, he could complete the knowledge he'd acquired from his predecessors and learn everything there was to learn. Jack shrugged mentally and thought, meh it could be fun.
Years passed this way and Jack spent Southern Winter shooting around the world, returning to the Cavern every now and then to record his discoveries in the library. When Northern Winter came, he'd set off for his village again and Ben would have grown as if Jack were observing his life in the pages of a book, rather than real life. It saddened Jack a little bit, but he understood that it couldn't be helped and got the most of his time with his family. Ben, who got all of Tom's muscle and all of Emily's wit, was a lovely child who loved his uncle Jack even if the adults couldn't see him. Together, Ben and Jack terrorized the town with surprise snowball attacks and built the best snow forts. Jack also took the liberty of teaching Ben to read. Officially, Tom's cousin from the larger colonies came over once in a while to teach him. As the family slept, Jack hitched a ride on Sandy's cloud and explored whatever continent they ended up on at a time. In the cool evenings, Ben perched on Jack's knee and listened to the latest about the customs and languages Jack picked up the night before. Emily and Tom raised Ben well and by the time Ben was a teenager, unable to fit on Jack's knee, could offer his input in engaging conversations with Jack.
"What? You're saying that there are monks who can sit in the snow for hours without getting frost bite?" Ben looked incredulously at his uncle. Jack only smiled, legs crossed on the comfortable chair Tom had fashioned just for him when Ben was about four.
"Yeah, it's amazing what human bodies can do with the right kind of focus. I checked out their temperatures and they were even hotter than the average temperature of a human body on a summer's day. Amazing."
"How do you think that works? Why even do it?"
"The heat energy they produced was connected to this line of belief that I could see wrapped around them. I'm telling you it was sheer willpower, like they willed their bodies to produce heat that wasn't there before. Of course, it still had to draw power from their energy reserves, but the technique isn't too different from how the kids use belief to see me. I dunno, maybe they do it just to see if they can."
"That's reasonable, but I really think it is connected to belief magic. You said they were Buddhist?" Jack nodded thoughtfully, "I think their 'chakra' is actually associated with belief magic. The immortals you met in China and India channeled belief magic that their believers generated. This meditating that they do is a pure belief energy generating process. Since the method is so direct, the heat is probably produced by their bodies that are acting like tiny suns that produce belief energy. That's amazing!"
A wooden spoon lightly rapped Ben on the head at the climax of his speech. "It might be amazing, son, but not as amazing as the amount of food energy you can put away. Come on, it's time for supper."
"Yes, mother," Ben said sheepily, ducking his head as he stood. He was still at least a foot taller than Emily. Jack watched the exchange in fond silence.
"He's a good kid, Em," he said when Ben had ducked outside to wash in the snow.
"Hmm I doubt that will last for long, he's already got his eyes set on a few girls," she smirked, the laugh lines appearing on her face, "but yes, I suppose he is. He's just like you when you were his age."
"What, ruggedly handsome and smart?"
"No, devilishly cheeky and hard to find at all times of the day," Emily plopped down where Ben sat before, "Good times."
"You're making me feel old. I know I've got white hair, but I'm only 50 or so, practically an infant."
"Oh yes, I'm practically an infant at 32 myself," Emily's eyes sparkled.
"Oy, careful, the neighbors might think I'm really married to an infant, the way you two are prattling on," Tom's voice sounded from the back room, where he'd been doing the looming. He threw something at Jack, who caught it nimbly between two fingers.
"What's this, Tom?" Jack inspected the garment he'd been handed. It was a simple shirt that was sturdy and identical to the one Tom wore, except that it was blue.
"Well, you brought us some fine indigo from India for Em's new dress, so I thought I'd make you something to replace that ratty thing you've been wearing." Tom chuckled.
"What, this old thing? I was making a fashion statement." He looked at the shirt appreciatively, "Thank you Tom, it's very well made." He stripped his old shirt off, the same one given to him in Big Root all those years ago, and pulled the new one on. Oh yes, blue was definitely his color.
More years passed and Ben finished his apprenticeship with his father and helped out at the forge full time. The village was growing and the new farmers and businesses brought in a lot of good business and the family lived well. Since he learned a good bit about medicine and hygiene from Jack's travels, Ben expanded on the blacksmith's tradition tooth pulling role and helped out with all maladies beyond the help of the midwife. Ben met his own wife pulling the tooth of an old man who decided to introduce the nice young blacksmith to his nice young granddaughter. He and Rosemary were wed when they were both new to adulthood and Rosemary, who never forgot Jack from the time she was a child, accepted her husband's unorthodox uncle with a smile and raucous laughter. Before he knew it, little Ben wasn't so little anymore and he had a baby of his own to take care of. Em and Tom got a little older every year and though he tried not to show it, Jack got this intense fearful impression that he was running out of time with them.
The day that Jack had been dreading came one day in the beginning of Northern Winter just before the turn of the century. Ben's grown son met him at the pond as he arrived, a worried expression on his face.
"Uncle Jack," he said, "you need to come with me."
In a small room in the new house they'd built, Emily lay in bed with Tom holding her hand on one side and Ben looking on from his father's side. She beckoned Jack over and they exchanged quiet words of farewell, nothing terribly serious, but they were comforting words. In the end, she died with a smile on her face and Jack, feeling as if it would be an injustice to her memory to cry, held the sorrow back until the body was buried and he was alone in front of her grave. He shed but few tears and spent an evening with her tombstone, talking to her spirit. When he was done, he felt as if he could move on and the pain in his heart was much diminished. She'd lived a long life, far longer than anyone could of hoped, and lived well surrounded by love.