Alaia Skyhawk:

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 16: I believe, I believe, I believe

Jack sighed as he descended towards the village, the first snows of winter having fallen on it the previous afternoon. He'd gone to the Winter Sanctuary after leaving Santoff Claussen, wanting to keep the books as a surprise for when he could go to the village and stay put for a while. But even that week and bit of delay had been test in resisting temptation. He'd spent it looking at the stories written by Katherine, and practicing reading them aloud. He'd never really been much for telling stories around camp-fires before he'd died and come back, and he wanted to make sure he'd do those tales justice.

His expression now changed to a smile, when the village itself had come into view. He could see the garlands of ivy, fern, and winterberries hung on every porch, and the little shrine at the base of the storm pole had a pile of berries in front of it as well.

Jack landed with the grace of a snowflake on the top of the little shrine, frosting over its roof before spiralling the frost up the pole. The nearby children began to smile and point when they saw him, and the nearby adults looked reassured to know the Spirit of Winter had returned and given the village his blessing.

There wasn't enough snow on the ground yet for a snowball fight, but Jack did grin at the children mischievously.

"Come to the pond this afternoon. I've got a surprise for you all."

The children darted away to tell the rest of their friends, and Jack took that opportunity to discretely slip into his sister's cabin. Albert wasn't there when he entered, but she was, and she was sat at the table spooning mashed up vegetables into her son's mouth.

Jack couldn't help but stare, at the sheer change between his nephew when he was newborn and the way he was now. After spending all of summer and autumn locked into reading books with no concept of the time passing, this evidence of how long it had been was something of a shock. He'd missed so much while he was away.

Little Thomas' gaze fixed on him, the infant curious about this new visitor. It was that which made Emily realise that someone was there, and she turned before gasping in joy.

"Jack!"

She was at his side in moments, pulling him into a hug that he gladly returned. He then picked up the bag he'd set down, and held it out to her.

"These are for you, although I'll be borrowing a few of them now and then to read to the children."

Emily's eyes widened, as she then accepted the bag and quickly opened it to reveal roughly thirty or so different books. For a community out in the wilds, the collection would be worth a small fortune if she'd had to buy them, for all of them were leather-bound and made of the finest quality materials... Mr Qwerty wouldn't have accepted anything less.

She set the bag on the table, beside the wooden chair where Thomas was propped up in a nest of folded blankets, and lifted out one of the books.

"Oh Jack, where did you get these?"

He continued to smile, and spoke with a hint of humour.

"They're a gift from Ombric, and his library assistant, Mr Qwerty. Qwerty got quite worked up when he learnt almost no-one here could read, so he may have added a few more books than what I asked for copies of." He now started to look a bit embarrassed. "Ombric got me started on reading, and then besides my Southern Winter duties, I've spent most of the last six months with my nose stuck in one book or another. Reading's actually quite easy once you start to get the idea of how the words are written. I've got copies of the teaching books in there as well, so I can show you how to read during this winter, and then you can teach the children during the summer. All the others in there are storybooks, and there's even one full of stories written by 'Mother Goose'."

Emily almost dropped the book she was holding, and she stared.

"Mother Goose is real? Is she an Immortal, like you?"

Jack shook his head, and went over to Thomas to offer one of his fingers to the boy. The infant happily grabbed the cool digit, and gurgled happily.

"No, she's like Ombric. Her power of belief is so strong, that it sustains her and stops her growing too old. I don't know how that works, but it seems to be a rare gift... She's travelling the world right now, on an adventure to gather and write more stories, to preserve them for children to hear and enjoy even after the day that she's gone."

Emily reached past him to pick up her son, and she sighed as she held the boy in her arms.

"I wish I could do something like that, for you... I'm not going to be here forever."

Jack felt his smile fade at those bleak words, but then made himself cheer up by getting out the teaching books so he could start to show her how to read. Every day after that, for the rest of winter, he would meet the children at the pond to tell them a story, before triggering fun and games involving lots of snowballs, and then in the evenings he would sit with Emily and Albert and teach them to read.

He would watch them sitting side-by-side at the table with a book between them, while he entertained Thomas. He was almost on the Nice List that year, for 'teaching two people to read'. But days after that entry had appeared due to the magic of the documents, and before North had even seen it, it vanished. Because unfortunately an incident involving a roof-load of snow, and the prank of deliberately making it slide off onto the head of the village bully, outweighed that act and got him on the Naughty List again. And so the Lists marked him down as having 'dumped large amount of snow on a child's head'.

But he knew none of that, and such things were far from his mind. Instead, Emily's words lingered at the back of his mind, as one year, became two, then three, then four... Before he knew it, he'd been the Spirit of Winter for twenty three years, and Emily celebrated her thirtieth birthday. Thomas was thirteen now, almost fourteen, and the village had three new families and cabins.

But most of the children living there, moved to the nearest big town once they reached adulthood. Only a handful remained to live and raise families of their own at the village. That had happened with one of Thomas' friends, a boy three years older than him who had now gone off to be a tailor. Every little thing like that, served to remind Jack of how fleeting time was, and how much he missed when he was away so much of the year.

Every time he came back, something had changed even if only in a small way. If anything, Emily teaching the village children to read was what had caused so many to leave once they'd grown up. Their literacy gave them an advantage in life, and let them go off to seek more prosperous work than farming, hunting, and mining. But even so, Jack couldn't bring himself to regret giving them that gift. Their prosperity was his and Emily's legacy, something given to the future that would live on even after she was gone.

There were times when Jack wondered if she'd realised it, that the name 'Emily Bennett' was now firmly tied in village lore both about the Spirit of Winter and the village itself, as the founder of the Festival of First Snow. And that in itself was a reason he wished dearly that he could stay year-round... Because for him, something inside had shifted, and the passage of years was starting to mean less and less. Once or twice he'd gone to the Winter Sanctuary in early Northern Spring, laid down for a nap, and not woken up until he got the warning nudge of impending Southern Winter. Maybe he really did need to sleep once in a while, to rest and rebuild his reserves, even if he never felt like he had to sleep... but even so.

Time was slipping through his fingers, be it through dozing off in boredom at the Ice Palace, or losing himself in lessons at Santoff Claussen... Her time was slipping through his fingers, when all he dearly wanted was to cherish every moment of it that it could... It was hard, seeing her, Albert, and their son change so much in his absence every year... They were years where his routine mean that things were as much the same one year as the next... Things were starting to blur together to the point that he now relied on a tally he'd carved upon one of the walls in the Ice Palace... That was the only reason he even knew the year was 1734.

"Sorry, no story today."

"Awww! But Jack!"

"Hey now that doesn't mean we're not going to have fun. I brought some friends for you to play with. They're my helpers, the Winter Sprites."

Jack shooed a quartet of the furry, white sprites out of the bushes where they'd hidden and towards the children. By the time he'd also created a simple ice-slide, which the sprites adored, any uncertainty on the part of the little creatures was lost in the sheer fun of urging on or taking turns with the children to ride down it into a massive snowdrift that he kept topping up with more snow when it became too squashed down.

But he had to admit, it was becoming harder to have fun with the children without also dwelling on his own conflicted feelings. He'd planned to tell them Katherine's story about the Himalayan Snow Geese, but his heart just wasn't in it today, and any of her stories deserved better than his distracted state.

When the time came that the children were called home, Jack remained at the pond and perched on his staff in the centre of it. There were no clouds as night fell, and the sky was crystal clear. The stars glittered like uncountable tiny promises, their light casting only a faint glow on the show-cloaked forest until the moon rose and everything became gilded in dazzling silver moonlight.

Jack had one faint smile for that moment of transition between gloom and glow, but then it faded. It was like the wonder he'd felt at all this in his first few years as Jack Frost, was fading away. His hopes and dreams for the future were withering away day-by-day, and even with his growing collection of coloured ice-sculptures back at the Ice Palace, it was becoming hard to call forth those happy memories the represented. Especially when all he seemed to be doing was sinking slowly into depression.

And really, a part of him was starting to ask, what was the point in even trying? If clinging to his family was causing him so much pain already, how was it going to feel when Emily died, and Albert, and Thomas, and then their descendants after that? What was the point of dreaming of a future with them, when all it was going to do in the end was torment him?

Jack closed his eyes and hung his head, still perched on the staff as the winds circled him in concern. He ignored the avalanche call when one came, knowing well the area it referred to. It could wait until tomorrow night.

The winds left, casting the air around the pond into utter stillness. He didn't move when they returned, eyes still closed and head still bowed. It was only when he was startled by a touch on his shoulder, toppled off his staff, and was caught by a cloud of dreamsand that he even noticed who had crept up on him.

Sandy waved in greeting, then drew a swirling wisp of sand to represent wind, tugging on an image of himself.

Jack blinked.

"The winds brought you here? Why?"

One of the winds curled around his shoulders, and for a moment there was a sound like the faintest whimper of concern. Sandy then reached out to pat him on the shoulder, then drew a picture of himself coming to a slumped and unhappy Jack, and then the two of them starting to smile and laugh.

Jack sighed, unable to help feeling down and embarrassed.

"Great, they brought you because they thought I needed cheering up. That's the winds for you, always sticking their proverbial noses into places and things that don't concern them." One of the winds buffeted him, making his hair stand on end with its passage, and it kept doing it. "Ok, fine! You were worried about me! You can stop that now."

The air stilled and Jack glanced at Sandy, who responded with a simple question-mark above his head. Jack then sighed, and answered.

"I guess that after twenty-three years of this life, the 'novelty' of it has worn off. I feel like, I don't know... It's almost like some part of me is dying inside, along the hurt from knowing I'm missing so much of Emily's life whenever I'm away... I'm starting to wonder if it's worth it. Is it worth clinging to that? It is worth fighting against becoming like the other Spirits of the Seasons? Because if they went through what I'm going through now... I'm starting to understand why they stopped caring, and isolated themselves."

Beside him, Sandy's eyes had widened in concern, and he began vehemently shaking his head and waving his hands around in emphasis. While above his head he drew an image of Jack laughing and smiling as he played with children. And then he drew another where those children didn't see him, walked through him because they didn't believe, and Jack flew off without even reacting because he didn't care. That Jack then sat alone upon a rock, in solitude, never smiling again.

Sandy didn't just dismiss that image, he smacked it apart using his hands and then took hold of the real Jack by the wrist. His gaze in that moment, was one that the Spirit of Winter was sure could see right through his soul, and then Sandy's expression softened into a sort of regret, as he re-drew the two versions of Jack, one playing with children and one sat alone, and then pointed to the second.

The question was clear. 'Is that what you really want?'

Jack stared at the two images for several moments, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"No, I don't want that. I don't want to stop playing with the children, and I don't want to be alone. But at the same time, I feel like that side of me is slipping through my fingers because I don't have the strength to keep hold."

Sandy frowned, thinking, and then drew Emily. He showed her and a child Thomas in winter, with Jack there, and then Jack flew off while she remained behind, and then Jack returned. He repeated the sequence several times, and each winter Thomas was taller and even Emily changed a little... But Jack remained the same.

After that came another question-mark, and Jack reluctantly nodded.

"Yeah, that's it. They change so much when I can't be here with them. It doesn't help that there are times between Southern and Northern Winters, where I've dropped off to sleep without meaning to and woken up months later. The time seems to be going by so fast, and what seemed like such a long amount of time before she'd grow old and die, suddenly doesn't seem so long anymore. That scares me, because I've stopped seeing time the way a human does, and instead I look at decades the way I once looked at years. I know in my head what nature expects for the next five winters, where the weather needs to be harsh and where it needs to be gentle... But at the same time I'm struggling to think what stories I'll tell the children this Northern Winter, or the next. What new games will I invent for them, and what old ones will I continue to play with them? It's like 'Jackson Overland' is vanishing, and I'm frightened."

Sandy settled into a pose of deep thought, glancing at their surroundings until he noticed the image of the moon reflected on the polished ice of the pond. Jack hadn't been in the mood to decorate with with frost-patterns, and so it was shiny like a mirror.

The Sandman began to mime out one of Katherine's stories about a magic mirror being used to look at some place far away. Jack recognised the story immediately, and raised an eyebrow sceptically as Sandy then showed an image of him creating one.

"You think I should try making a magic mirror? I do ice, not glass."

Sandy rolled his eyes and pointed to the reflection of the moon on the ice, causing Jack to blink in surprise. How had he not noticed that before, about ice?

"Ice can reflect images... A mirror out of ice?" His eyes widen. "If I could invent a new way to use my magic, to make a mirror I can look through, I could watch Emily and the family even during Northern Summer! I could stay in the Winter Sanctuary, and never get on Achieng's bad-side again, and still never miss out on what's going on back home!"

Jack let out a whoop of excitement, the winds responding to his exuberance by whirling him up into the air in shared joy. Meanwhile Sandy looked on, smiling to himself at a task well-done, and at Jack being broken from his depression. The Spirit of Winter had a dream again, one of creating a way to watch over the village, and share in the happy moments of his family's life, even when circumstances meant he couldn't be there.

Jack barely noticed when Sandy left, he was too busy perched where he was on the rocks at the side of the pond. It took a fair amount of concentration to make a disk of perfectly flat ice the size of his palm, since the substance wanted for form glittering crystals or forms that were rippled as if shaped by wind or flowing water.

Once he had that, he frowned as he inspected it, discovering that being able to see through it stopped him focusing on any reflection that might be visible. It needed an opaque backing, and he made one by allowing one side of the disk to erupt into a glittering carpet of tiny crystals all packed together. He could now see his face in his ice-mirror, so long as there was nothing bright behind it.

Over the following months, Jack continued to work on his mirrors, becoming able with practice to shape them larger and larger until he'd even managed one twice as tall as himself. That one ended up decorating a wall in the Ice Palace, where he was in residence in the days just before the start of Southern Winter.

By mid Southern Winter, Jack started to become frustrated. Having decided that perhaps smaller was better while he was still trying to figure out how he could possibly make them do what he wanted, he continued on. Until the day when he threw and smashed his latest attempt, and scared several Winter Sprites in the process.

He sat on the frozen floor amid the shards, fighting with disappointment and fuming at himself for failing despite so many, many attempts. Once again, without him asking, the winds sought out and brought Sandy. The little golden man dropping to the floor beside the Spirit of Winter, and then gathering the shards into a neat pile.

Jack sighed, but didn't raise his head.

"Did you ever have trouble like this? I mean, I've seen you make huge shapes out of solid sand, that move. Were you always able to do that, or did you have to learn how?"

Jack now looked at him, and Sandy let out the smallest sigh. He then began to write in letters of sand above his head. It was more time-consuming than using symbols, but it let him say exactly what he wanted Jack to 'hear'.

Jack began to read the words that appeared and faded in turn, murmuring them softly to himself.

"'I wasn't always able to. At first, only the imagination of children could give shapes to dreamsand. But then I asked, why should I not be able to as well? It was my sand, so why not? That was when I learnt all abilities, talents, powers... they come from belief. Believe in your heart that your mirrors will reflect a place far away, instead of what stands before them'." Jack stood up. "Are you saying that all Immortals are like that? They start with abilities that are instinct, but can learn new ones as well if they try?"

Sandy shrugged again, drawing Jack making snow and a mirror of ice, and nodding. He then drew what was obviously Achieng starting a fire and her attempting to make the same mirror of ice, and then shook his head.

Jack nodded, understanding.

"So they can invent new ways to use their powers, so long as what they're trying is compatible with the materials their powers provide them. Ice can reflect light and images, so I can make mirrors that show far away places. I just have to truly believe that I can?"

Sandy's smile widened, and he drew a picture of Ombric, causing Jack to let out a laugh.

"Of course! The First Spell, why didn't I think of that?" He danced a little on the spot, his eagerness making him fidget, before he effortlessly created a new hand-sized mirror and let it hang suspended in the air in front of them. Jack then gently set his fingers to its surface and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I believe, I believe, I believe... Show me my pond. Show me, so that I can see it as if I were there right now."

When nothing happened, and Jack glanced at Sandy, his fellow immortal urged him to keep trying. No one could expect it to work first time. In the end it was about an hour later, after dozens upon dozens of attempts, that Jack almost gave up in frustration before forcing that feeling to change into faith instead. At that moment he felt the tingle of power flow, and pulled his fingers away from the mirror which now had a wash of pale blue light sweeping outwards from its centre.

And as the light passed, in its wake it left the image of a view he knew so well... It was his pond, and the narrow field-of-view offered by the small mirror, seemed to be from somewhere close to the ground. He and Sandy knew that, because there was summer grass and flowers blocking part of it.

Jack leaned closer, gazing at the image in awe.

"I did it... I did it!" He paused, starting to lift his hand towards the mirror. "And... it really does look as it would if I were there. You can't even see the ice in the middle of the mirror anymore, it's like looking through an open window."

He went to touch the mirror to confirm the presence of invisible ice, and instead his hand passed through. He yanked it back sharply in surprise, then after a glance at Sandy, he craned his head to one side of the mirror while Sandy goes the other. Once they were both able to see the back of the mirror, he then he stuck his hand through it again... At the back of the mirror, there was no sign of it.

Jack pulled his hand clear again, startled, and looked at Sandy.

"I felt the warmth, the wind, it was like my hand was there."

Sandy blinked at him, and after looking back and forth between Jack and the ice-mirror, he nonchalantly stuck his own his arm through it and came back with a fistful of grass and flowers. He then let them drop to the floor, and clapped in congratulations.

Jack stared.

"What are you congratulating me for? I wasn't even trying to do that! I just wanted to see the pond... as if I were there."

Sandy smiled, and drew and image of North using one of his snow-globes to travel across the world, and then one of Bunnymund tapping a foot on the floor to make a magical burrow appear. He then drew more than a dozen other immortals, of both major and lesser ranks, using their own ways of moving swiftly and often instantly from one place to another. Magical portals of one kind or another were actually quite common among the immortals, those symbols said. Jack also knew, from reading books about the various immortals while at Santoff Claussen, that many of them couldn't do their jobs without such ways to get around, because most immortals couldn't fly.

Jack frowned. He knew that those immortals had ways to travel instantly because they needed them, but he didn't. It didn't make sense.

"Are you saying that, if I can learn to make those bigger, I can use them like doorways?" Sandy nodded, and Jack's frown became wry. "Ok, I'll admit they'd save me a little time during avalanche duties, but really, the rest of my work needs me to fly through the skies from place-to-place. And to be honest, I'd rather fly. Taking a single step, and not getting to to ride the winds, wouldn't be much fun."

Sandy drew an image of Jack writing a letter, and using an Ice Mirror to set it on the table beside Emily's bed. And then another of Emily writing a letter, leaving it in the same place, and Jack collecting it using another mirror.

Jack's eyes widened in realisation.

"I could send her letters, even during Northern Summer?" He starts to get excited. "Even if I can't go there, I could still get all the latest news of what's been going on!"

Sandy made a question-mark, added to an image of Jack making a large mirror and stepping through it. Would he ever use them as doorways?

Jack shrugged.

"I suppose I might use one if it were an emergency, but really... I prefer flying, and there's no immortal out there that can cross the world faster than me without using a magical shortcut." He grinned. "My only motivation at this point, for mastering making them larger, is so I can get a bigger view. I can hardly see anything through that thing unless I put my face right up to it."

He reached through the mirror to gather his own handful of grass and flowers, and his smile suddenly took on a hint of mischief.

"I wonder..."

He touched the frozen frame of the mirror and the image changed, showing the plaza of the Winter Sanctuary and several Winter Sprites that scurried around it. Jack then backed up a few strides, conjured a snowball in his hand, and threw it through the mirror with unerring aim.

One unfortunate sprite took the ball to the back of the head, landing face-down on the floor, while around it the rest of the sprites began blaming each other for the snowball and an all out snowball war started.

Meanwhile, back inside the Ice Palace, Jack and Sandy started to laugh.

"I'm going to have so much fun with this."

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, I gave him a portal ability, because really when you think about it, most figures of legends are people and creatures that can't fly. If they have duties all across the world, then how could they possibly get them done unless they had a quick way to get from place-to-place?

And of course, Jack having his Ice Mirror portals means he can prank people without being physically anywhere near them. He can start snowball fights in loads of places really fast to make lots of kids have fun (later on), and I also have some small plot-additions for when I get to the film in the time-line.

The writers actually goofed in the film. Day one is a "snow day" meaning the kids don't have to go to school, so that means it was a Friday. Jamie loses his tooth that day, and before the following night (for his time zone) has ended, Sandy has been defeated, Sophie has ended up in the Warren, and the Guardians trek off there to paint eggs... Now, it's obvious that Sophie is returned home before dawn that same night (because otherwise her mother would have been freaking out), which is the Friday night/Saturday morning... NOT Easter Sunday... So, um, where did Saturday go?

I'll be adding that day in when I get that far :)