AUTHOR'S NOTE (for people coming back from chapter 68, because this was posted later) : This chapter takes place, chronologically, the night after the King Edvin thing. For where it's placed in the story, though, it's set right before Kristoff has his "talk" with Elsa, on the following evening. ;) Thanks for reading; love you all! :)

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35: Great Beauty, Great Danger

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The Previous Evening

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"You're not fooling me, you know."

Lying next to his wife in the darkness, King Kristoff didn't respond. Shifting uncomfortably in the covers, he crossed his arms over his chest, saying nothing.

"I know that you're awake," Queen Anna tried again. "Your breathing is all wrong. And, you smell different when you're awake."

"Don't worry about it," Kristoff grumbled.

With her characteristic, tiny little pregnancy grunts, he heard Anna struggle to flip over onto her other side, scooting towards him. Feeling the warmth of her body next to his own, he looked down as he felt her delicate fingers twisting in his hair.

"Yoooou're worried about something," Anna retorted into his ear. "I know you. And pretending that you can't hear me isn't going to help anything."

Kristoff sighed in defeat, closing his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Anna."

"Well, I sure can't sleep now."

"Don't worry about me!"

"I'm wasn't talking about you," she whispered. "I can't sleep, because the baby has decided I'm not going to sleep. The baby is wiiiiiide awake. In fact, the baby is having a dance performance, and I'm currently taking up the entire front row of the theater."

The Commoner King let out a sharp laugh, his face cracking into a smile. Raising his eyebrows, he rolled his head on the pillow, looking into Anna's enormous blue eyes.

"A dance performance?" he chuckled. "At this time of night?"

"You don't believe me?"

Kristoff said nothing, but turned over to face her, pulling back the covers and placing his hand on Anna's stomach. His eyes widened as her pregnant belly lurched, and she winced as the child leapt, smiling weakly at her husband.

"Geez," Kristoff breathed. "Dance performance. You weren't kidding."

"Yes, with lots of high kicks and jumps."

He grimaced empathetically, shaking his head and lying back into the covers. Scooting up under his arm the best that she could with her enormous stomach, Queen Anna rested her head on Kristoff's bare chest, gazing up at him with puppy dog eyes.

"Soooo…"

"What is it, Anna?"

She looked down to his stomach, reaching her other hand around and placing her two longest fingers on his skin.

"What. Is. On. Your. Mind?" Anna enunciated, walking her fingers up his torso with each word.

And she collapsed onto him again.

Shifting uncomfortably in the covers, King Kristoff looked down to his wife, realizing with horror that her enormous blue eyes were locked onto his face, her expression pleading. Anna was not giving up on this. Scooting up against him again, she unconsciously bat her eyelashes, adorably biting the edge of her lip as a clump of her messed-up red hair brushed against his neck.

Kristoff gulped.

Geeeaaaaaugh…

Feeling the last of his resolve crumbling away, he sharply pulled in his breath.

"What if he's just using her?" Kristoff blurted, stammering helplessly as Anna raised her eyebrows and started to shift back, "What if he's trying to take her down because she's got ice powers? What if Mister Blizzard Boy starts getting all HANDSY on her, and Elsa doesn't think she can say no? What if—"

"—Whoa, whoa, whoa, there," Anna interrupted, "That's not a problem. My sister is very good at rejecting people."

"I'm pretty sure that the Spirit of Winter doesn't count as 'people.'"

"Maybe not." Queen Anna sighed. "But Kristoff—I can promise you, if Elsa didn't at least like him, he would've been kicked out a long time ago."

"She did kick him out."

"And let him right back in, didn't she?"

"I—!"

Kristoff cut himself off, letting out his breath. Anna had a point… and, she was Elsa's sister. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. Elsa had let the guy right back in. Not to mention all the blushing.

A few moments passed in silence.

Glancing down to her enormous stomach, the redheaded queen unfolded her arms, drumming her fingers on it. She looked to her husband.

"What about Jack?" Anna mused thoughtfully.

A look of confusion swept over King Kristoff's face. "What about Jack?" he asked.

"Well—as a name," Anna shrugged, glancing to her stomach. "I mean—if it's a boy. You never know, right?"

Kristoff jolted.

"You want to NAME OUR CHILD after a guy you've known ONE DAY?!" he sputtered, sitting up.

Anna giggled. "He saved Elsa!"

"He's STALKING Elsa!"

"It isn't stalking if she keeps inviting him everywhere!"

Kristoff groaned in frustration, clapping his hand over his eyes and collapsing back into the covers.

"I still don't like it," he grumbled. "And, we're only considering the name Jack if we're considering the name Boulder, too."

"Boulder?!" Anna exclaimed.

"Boulder is a great name!"

"It's a ROCK!"

"It's a BIG rock."

"Oh, come on," Anna countered. "Prince Boulder? How royal-sounding is that?"

Kristoff scoffed. "That's every bit as royal as Jack. Since when is Jack a regal-sounding name?"

"Since he's gonna marry my sister?"

"Aaaaaurgh."

"Oh, come on. You know it's gonna happen," Anna laughed. "Elsa's the Snow Queen. And she's being followed around by the Spirit of Winter? Good luck, finding her a better guy than that!"

"Why does Elsa need to have a guy at all?"

"He's in love with her!"

"He's a guy."

Queen Anna shook her head at the remark, rolling her eyes. "But Prince Boulder? Come on," she chuckled. "That's even worse than Prince Mushroom!"

"Prince Mushroom?!"

"You suggested it two days ago."

"No, I didn't! Mushroom is a girl's name!"

Anna laughed again, her silent eye-roll somehow still apparent to Kristoff in the faint light. He shifted uncomfortably in the sheets, pulling in his breath.

"Look… I just don't want anybody to do something they're going to regret," he sighed, "Okay? Just because he's—you know—ice powers—it doesn't automatically mean that he's meant to be in this family. You don't know a dang thing about this guy!"

"Maybe not," Anna admitted. "But I know my sister."

"What do you mean?"

"She can take care of herself," Anna reassured him. "And I think Jack's good for her. And besides," she added, "It's not like you know much of anything about Jack Frost, either."

"I—!"

King Kristoff abruptly stopped talking, heat rushing to his cheeks. He remembered Jack's existence—a basic powers synopsis, including that of the fun magic—and a few fundamental things about the other Guardians, like that they (and the Man in the Moon) were apparently some really big deal. Oh, and now, that Frost thought Elsa was hot. Shocker. But beyond that…

Letting out his breath, Kristoff shoved back the blankets, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Kneading his eyebrows, he then reluctantly stood up, walking over to the chair where he'd tossed his clothes.

Picking up his pants, he pulled them on, sucking in his breath at the shock of chilly fabric against his skin. From behind him, he heard Queen Anna grunting again as she pushed herself up.

"Hey!" she whispered, "What are you doing? You are not supposed to be getting up yet?"

He paused, turning back to face his wife. In the moonlight, with her big blue eyes sleepy but expectant, and her bright red hair a rat's nest around her face, Anna looked—perfect. She was beautiful, and their bed—as usual—looked like the greatest place in the world. This, to Kristoff, was his True North. She was his path. His future. His family. It was perfect, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

And when Elsa was potentially bringing somebody new into it… he had to make sure things were okay.

"I don't know much of anything about Jack Frost," King Kristoff said softly, buckling his belt. "But I'm pretty sure that I know someone who does."

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"KRISTOFF'S HOME!"

The former ice-man stepped down from the sleigh, the rock trolls bursting to life throughout the forest clearing and swarming towards him. He laughed, giving Sven a hearty pat and bracing himself as the first of the younglings leapt onto his back, nearly knocking him over.

Kristoff might have married into a crown, but… some things never change.

"I GOT AN EARTH CRYSTAL."

"I'M BIGGER NOW, SEE? I HAVE TWO MUSHROOMS! DO YOU SEE? DO YOU SEE!?"

"KRISTOFF! KRISTOFF! DOES THE QUEEN STILL LET YOU GO OUT TO THE WOODS TO TINKLE?! BECAUSE NOBBLE SAYS SHE DOES, BUT I SAID SHE—"

"—KRISTOFF!" Bulda's voice cut through. "We've missed you!"

Hearing his adoptive mother, King Kristoff turned around in relief, saved from answering the question. The first two rock trolls dropped off of him, the swarm abating slightly, and he reach up to his shoulder to lift up the third.

"It's good to see you, too," he laughed, carefully setting the little rock troll down. "But I can't stay long. Where's Grandpabbi?"

Her eyes lit up. "Grandpabbi?"

"I need to ask him a few questions."

To this, Bulda nodded, starting to turn around. "He should be close by. I'll go get him."

"There is no need," a raspy voice announced.

A hush fell over the clearing as the crowd parted, looking to the source of the sound. Falling forward, Grandpabbi transformed into a rolling ball of rock, the ground rumbling as he tumbled across it to the place where King Kristoff was standing.

Rumble rumble rumble rumble RUMBLE.

He burst back out of the ball, stepping up to the ice man as Kristoff knelt down on one knee.

"My son?" Grandpabbi asked, "What is it? What has brought you here?"

The Commoner King lowered his voice to a whisper. "I need to ask you some questions," he admitted, uncomfortably aware of the fact that literally all of the rock trolls were listening. "Do you—um, do you know much of anything about Jack Frost?"

"Jack Frost?" Grandpabbi asked, a wave of confusion sweeping over his face. "The new Guardian, Jack Frost? Why?"

Kristoff raised his eyebrows. After a few moments, Grandpabbi's eyes widened.

"Elsa," he gasped.

Ignoring the wave excited whispers rolling over the crowd, Kristoff let out a bark of bitter laughter, getting onto his feet. "Yeah. It would appear that the Spirit of Winter is suddenly interested in politics," he scoffed.

"Of course he is." Grandpabbi sighed, shaking his head. "How long?"

"Only a couple days or so," Kristoff shrugged. "So can you tell me some stuff about him?"

"What do you want to know?"

Feeling the weight of the rock trolls' stares on him, King Kristoff closed his eyes. Opening them again, he pulled in his breath.

"If I should be worried for my sister-in-law," he said softly.

Grandpabbi stared, looking contemplative. After a few moments, he sighed.

"I believe that this conversation is one that should happen in private," he responded, turning around.

Kristoff watched as the crowd parted, Grandpabbi walking away. Knowing exactly where they were going, he let out his breath and followed.

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The rock trolls generally slept out in the open in the clearing, curled up into protective balls of stone on the ground, but a few of the older ones had small huts of their own out in the surrounding forest. Grandpabbi's personal hut was no exception, and—as a boy—Kristoff had spent many evenings there, ducking under the hanging strings of crystals and herbs and handing Grandpabbi ingredients for the stews made in the large pot over the fire.

Following closely behind the old rock troll as they reached his personal hut, the Commoner King ducked as low as he could, barely able to squeeze under the top edge of the doorframe without having to actually fall onto his knees. As Grandpabbi rounded the firepit in the middle of the floor, Kristoff awkwardly shuffled inside.

The familiar smell of rock troll-style stew hitting his nose, he felt himself relax, lowering himself onto the ground.

"Stew?" Grandpabbi asked.

"Yes, please."

King Kristoff sat down cross-legged on the floor, placing his hands on his knees like he always had, facing the fire. In a few moments, Grandpabbi handed him a mug of steaming stew, and he took it, thanking him.

With his susceptible human skin, Kristoff had grown up sleeping in a hut like this one. When he'd outgrown it at the age of fourteen—then nearly six feet tall—the rock trolls had then helped him to build his own two-room cabin. The first room, of course, was his bedroom, and the second was a small front room with a stove and a wash basin. The second room was originally for Sven, but since Kristoff's honeymoon, Queen Anna had insisted that they bring in some furniture from the castle, making it into something of a parlor/kitchen hybrid. Which basically meant that it was still for Sven, but now with a couch.

The addition of indoor plumbing was also an improvement.

"So!" Grandpabbi began. "The Guardian of Fun is expressing interest in Elsa."

"Oh, yeah. He's interested."

King Kristoff lifted the mug to his lips, taking a long, hearty slurp (as was custom with the rock trolls). Pulling the mug down, he messily wiped his sleeve across his mouth.

"Is that bad?" he asked.

Grandpabbi stared into the fire, his gaze growing contemplative. "It is… concerning."

"So, it is bad."

"Oh, no, Kristoff. Concerning is not necessarily bad," the rock troll corrected.

Kristoff's forehead crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Grandpabbi didn't answer at first, picking up a second mug and the ladle. Pouring himself a helping of the stew—and carefully considering his words—he then pulled in his breath.

"It is concerning, because of who we are dealing with," Grandpabbi started, replacing the wooden ladle and stepping back from the fire. "If there's one thing I know about Jack Frost, it's that he is infinitely more powerful than he appears… or realizes. I certainly hope you had the foresight to treat such a formidable being with respect."

Kristoff's eyes widened, suddenly remembering tying the Spirit of Winter to a chair that morning. Grandpabbi's eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing.

The rock troll raised the mug of stew to his lips.

Sluuuuuuuuurp.

"Uh," King Kristoff stammered, "Respectful. Yeah! I mean—obviously!"

Grandpabbi shot him a skeptical look. Pulling the mug away from his face, he leaned forward. "Do—not—underestimate him."

"You seriously think he's that powerful?"

"The number one killer in this world isn't hatred, or envy, or war. It isn't even fear," Grandpabbi said quietly. "Think, my son. Disease. Aging. Natural disasters. The number one killer isn't an idea, or an army. It is—as it was meant to be—nature."

Kristoff nodded, remembering the events before the journey to the Enchanted Forest. "But Elsa's got that under control, now."

"Oh, Kristoff. Queen Elsa doesn't control nature."

Grandpabbi shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. A look of confusion swept over King Kristoff's face.

"But she's the Fifth Spirit," he protested, "She's—she's the bridge! The spirits respect her completely."

"The Enchanted Forest is a small, secluded anomaly," Grandpabbi explained, "And it is incredibly rare. It must be protected. While Queen Elsa is definitely needed there, and while she is unspeakably powerful, to function as the bridge between the Forest and Arendelle —it is not the same. Her power allowed her to overcome the other Nature Spirits because her ice defies nature. It does not function quite like Jack Frost's."

"Well, yeah, but—you're not saying that Jack is like nature, are you?" Kristoff scoffed, lifting his mug to his mouth. "I mean, I've met the guy. He's a toothpick!"

Grandpabbi glared.

Biting the edge of his lip, Kristoff looked down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"He is a Guardian."

"Yeah."

Kristoff felt blood rushing to his face. Grandpabbi drew in his breath.

"You mustn't be fooled by appearances, Kristoff," he said coldly. "That is not where true power lies. I will remind you that the Snow Queen looks rather fragile herself. And look at what she can do."

"I know."

An awkward quiet fell over the little hut. Not sure of what else to do, they simultaneously lifted their mugs to their lips.

Sluuuuuuuuuuurp.

"Queen Elsa has power over ice and snow," Grandpabbi sighed, a dribble of stew catching in his moss, "And is incredibly talented with it. In many ways, more so than him. But in terms of sheer scale, there's really no comparison. Jack Frost—whether or not he really realizes it—controls a large-scale force of nature."

"But so does Elsa," Kristoff counter, "I mean, she's large-scale, too."

"No." The rock troll shook his head. "Queen Elsa's strength is breathtaking. But it is primarily localized."

"LOCALIZED?" Kristoff blurted, slamming down his mug, "What are you talking about? I know that Frost a Guardian and everything, and—well, I've seen the Fun Magic thing; that was pretty freaky—but he just kinda dusts over stuff with his ice. How on earth could he even begin to compare to Elsa!? I mean, how is Elsa's power LOCALIZED?!"

Grandpabbi chuckled good-naturedly, taking a drink of stew. "You are not thinking big enough, Kristoff."

"BIG enough?" he balked, "Do you even REMEMBER the great freeze? When Elsa built that ice castle, and froze the fjord, and the snow monster, and—"

"—Bigger."

"And when she rode the Nokk and stopped a tidal wave, and—"

"—Bigger, my son."

Kristoff scoffed, his mouth hanging open in confusion. Gesturing frantically, he leaned forward.

"She froze ARENDELLE!" he stammered, "A kingdom! She accidentally froze an entire KINGDOM! In JULY!"

Grandpabbi's eyebrows lifted. Pulling in his breath, he lifted the mug to his lips.

"And Jack Frost covers half a continent in one swoop," he deadpanned.

King Kristoff snapped his mouth shut, looking down in discomfort. He swallowed hard.

Continent is bigger than kingdom.

"The Guardians work on a worldwide scale," Grandpabbi stated, "And their power is tailored for it."

"Okay, so… Frost is powerful," Kristoff muttered, gripping his mug of stew. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"The Man in the Moon certainly seems to," Grandpabbi said, "Which alone should say enough about who he is. Has he ever used his powers for evil?"

The Commoner King drummed his fingers on his mug, contemplating it. He couldn't think of anything bad, tied to Jack's name, beyond some occasional stupid (but mostly harmless) decisions. He hadn't heard a lot about the Guardian of Fun, but…

Well.

The kid was a Guardian.

"The Man in the Moon gave Frost his power, right? I know that none of the Guardians were born with it," Kristoff said, racking his memory for the stories of his childhood. "He must be a pretty great guy."

"Yes… very great. There is great beauty, in that," Grandpabbi affirmed. "But also, great danger."

"I thought you just said that Frost wasn't dangerous."

"I suppose that depends on who you are."

Kristoff gulped, feeling a little color draining from his face.

Seeing the ice man's discomfort, Grandpabbi pulled the mug away from his face and cleared his throat.

"Do you make a habit of intentionally bringing harm to children?" the rock troll clarified.

"Uh…" Kristoff said slowly. "No?"

Grandpabbi chuckled, bringing the mug to his lips. "Then, no. Jack Frost should not be dangerous to you," he said coolly.

After taking a drink, Grandpabbi moved the mug back down, his smile still evident. Then, it began to fade.

"On the other hand…" he breathed.

"What? What is it?"

Grandpabbi shifted in his seat. "Love changes people," he said simply. "And Jack Frost has been alone for a long… long… time."

Kristoff shifted in his seat as well, chewing the inside of his cheek as he drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. "Do you… um," he asked carefully, "Do you happen to know how long?"

His face went grave.

"From what I have heard?" Grandpabbi whispered. "Somewhere around three hundred years."

Kristoff's eyes widened.

That morning after being untied from the impromptu interrogation, Jack had accidentally dropped the number. But Kristoff had figured it might have been an exaggeration, or…something. He hadn't figured that Jack Frost was literally coming out of three centuries of being alone. It had only been a couple of days, but…

No WONDER he's going crazy over Elsa.

"Okay. So…to review," Kristoff choked. "What is arguably the most powerful and destructive force of nature is currently being controlled by an emotionally unstable toothpi—uh, Guardian of Children."

Grandpabbi nodded.

"Who… by sheer coincidence… has fallen madly in love with my equally unstable, and equally dangerous sister-in-law."

Grandpabbi nodded again. The Commoner King adjusted his grip on his mug again, staring into the crackling fire. "Who… isn't… NOTICING," he choked.

The rock troll nodded, starting to take a drink. "It will be interesting to see how this plays out," he affirmed.

Falling quiet, Kristoff looked down to his mug, watching the liquid swirl. He swallowed hard.

And if something goes wrong, we all freeze to death.

Biting his lip, he glanced back up. At this point—after everything he'd been dragged through, the journeys, summer freezes, the mortal danger and everything, from being Queen Elsa's brother-in-law—Kristoff mostly just wanted to Not Die.

"What should I do?" he asked quietly.

Grandpabbi's bushy eyebrows lifted in question. Kristoff shifted, putting down the mug.

"What should I say to Elsa?" he clarified, his expression tense. "I mean, if she really loves this guy—and he's actually that good of a guy—I don't want to get in the way, but—well, I don't want to see her get hurt, either. Or anyone else. What do you suggest?"

The old rock troll stared into his mug for a moment, considering the question.

"I recommend… that you tread carefully," Grandpabbi breathed. "All of you. Everyone involved."

The old rock troll swept his hand through the air, a glowing image of their silhouettes unfurling into existence between them. King Kristoff watched as the two blue figures in the center—clearly resembling Elsa and Jack—were joined by a host of red ones. He recognized himself, flanking an edge next to one that was clearly meant to represent Queen Anna.

"Elsa is more than her titles… even though the responsibilities associated with those titles can be very alluring. She must not forget who she is," he counseled. "Keep her sister close. And as for Jack Frost… just because you cannot grasp the full scale of his power, it does not mean that he should be underestimated."

A gleaming snowflake flowered over the center of the image, then engulfing it. A Kristoff watched it in wonder, the rock troll then swept his hand through the air again, disintegrating the picture entirely.

A long, tight silence fell over the hut.

"You know what this stew needs," the rock troll said suddenly, shattering the tension. "Wheatgrass. It needs more wheatgrass, to really fill out the flavor. I believe your Aunt Cattail has some in her garden."

Relaxing, King Kristoff restrained from a grin, seeing the obvious hint for what it was. "How much would you like me to get, Grandpabbi?" he asked, getting onto his feet.

"Oh, I think just a handful should do it."

The rock troll smiled, looking pleased that Kristoff had picked up on his hinting. He brought his mug to his lips again, taking in a long sip as the former ice-man ducked beneath the hanging crystals and herbs, making his way for the exit.

As King Kristoff reached the doorway, he paused. He then turned around, looking back to Grandpabbi.

"Who would win?"

Grandpabbi stopped drinking, peering up over the edge of his mug.

"If they got in a fight," Kristoff started again, folding his arms over his chest. "Jack Frost, or Elsa? Who would win?"

Grandpabbi's expression went as hard and cold as ice. Kristoff watched anxiously as the rock troll then set down his mug, interlacing his thick fingers and dropping his voice to a whisper.

"You should not speak so casually of such things," he said sternly.

The rock troll's glare intensified, lit up by the flames from the crackling fire between them.

"You are suggesting that the powers of one who directs nature should be set against the powers of one who defies it," he enunciated. "This land would be lucky to even SURVIVE such a fight. It does not matter which one would win, because everyone else would lose."

Kristoff felt a chill go down his spine.

Dropping his head forward, he swallowed hard. "Sorry, Grandpabbi," he muttered. "I'll—I'll go get the wheatgrass."

He sheepishly turned around again, starting to shuffle his way out of the hut. Just as he started to do so, the rock troll pulled in his breath.

"Queen Elsa," Grandpabbi said. "She would win."

Kristoff paused, looking back.

"What?" he asked.

Grandpabbi set down his mug of stew, grunting as he got into his stony feet. Walking over to where his adopted grandson was standing, bent all the way over in the doorframe, he raised his eyebrows.

"It is not a matter of sheer power, my son," he said, shaking his head. "In your talk of power, you neglect to take the most important factor into account."

Kristoff knelt down on one knee, placing himself closer to the rock troll's eye level. "What's that?"

Grandpabbi reached out his hand, placing it gently on Kristoff's chest.

"The heart," he whispered.

He patted Kristoff's chest, giving him a knowing smile. King Kristoff stared at him in confusion.

"The heart?" he asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"My son… Elsa is a kind, intelligent, lovely young woman, who was born with ice powers," Grandpabbi chuckled. "I do not believe that Jack Frost would ever willingly fight her. Especially not while he still might—have a chance."

Kristoff's eyes narrowed in disbelief, a hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Grandpabbi's smile widened, his face crinkling in a restrained laugh as he turned away. Walking over to where he had left his mug on the floor, he then sat down.

"He is… lonely," the rock troll nodded.

As he picked up the mug to take a drink, King Kristoff glanced to the side, his mouth open as he absorbed the statement. Before he could respond, however, Grandpabbi cleared his throat.

"Yes. Wheatgrass," the rock troll said decidedly, smacking his lips. "And when you get back, I will tell you everything I know about Jack Frost."