[rd][fic][Rise of the Guardians] Scenes, part 4

[sakon76]

Scenes From the Life and Death of Jackson Overland Frost
Part 4: Making Lists
by K. Stonham
first released December ?th, 2012

December, 1711

Trumpets and toy soldiers, boats and balls, dolls and dancing ladies... Nicholas St. North went down the requests list, smiling gently. He could not fulfill all the wishes, but each good child would get at least something from their hopes and dreams. He had received several requests in writing, even. It seemed letters to Father Christmas were becoming more popular these days! But most of his information on what the nice children of the world wanted came from a more nebulous source: magic.

It whispered in Nicholas' ears as he went down his lists, giving him the names of the children, their locations, their secret wants and needs. He followed as the magic instructed, inscribing the information into his ledgers, notifying the yeti of how many toys of each type he wanted, keeping the sums carefully balanced, and allowing for a five percent overage, as the elves inevitably destroyed some toys in the testing stage.

Those were the red ledger books, and they had place of pride on his shelves, each spine inscribed with its year.

The other books, the black ones, he did not love so well. They were the naughty children, the ones with mean hearts and cruel hands. Though he tried to love them equally, Nicholas... just couldn't quite. He could hope for them, that they would learn better, that maybe next year they would be on the nice list... but so few of them ever made that change.

Fortunately, there were far, far fewer entries in the black books. They were noticeably thinner than their compatriots.

Then there was the blue ledger, which held the names of borderline children. This was the book that occupied North currently. His quill hovered beside each name as he considered the child, considered what the magic whispered to him. Some had done bad things for good reasons. Some had done good things for bad reasons. And some were simply led astray by the wrong people.

This was the hardest ledger to balance. Nicholas would have given them all a plus-mark, to note their transfer to the red ledger, beside their name, if he could. But he couldn't. That wouldn't be fair.

Finally deciding on little Maria Fromme, who hadn't actually meant to tar her sister's hair, he moved to the next name.

Jackson Frost.

Closing his eyes, Nicholas let the magic whisper to him. The boy had a clever grin that turned sly in a heartbeat. His mind was quick, and too often turned to purposes for his own amusement. He played tricks on the children and adults around him, particularly his younger sister Phillipa. She at least was firmly in the red ledger, good obedient child that she was! But young Jackson, he was a hellion.

Still... there didn't seem to be any malice in him. Curious. Settling back further into his chair, Nicholas continued to listen.

The boy was a leader among his peers. A hard worker. He loved his parents and sister without reservation, and always behaved properly when the situation truly called for it. He made friends, rather than enemies. And, for all the tricks he played on others, he laughed at himself just as often, unashamed to be the butt of his or others' jokes.

And, at eighteen, he still believed.

That was a very rare thing.

Opening his eyes again, Nicholas pursed his lips and considered.

One last gift for the boy, then. Next year, belief or no, he would be too old to be on the lists. So best to make this last one something special. But what? Balls and jacks were too childish, and he already had a stuffed toy he treasured. A new book, perhaps? Nicholas considered that, then shook his head. The boy was too active, too outdoorish to find the simple satisfaction so many did in words.

Something that would last for years, be a reminder of that last Christmas....

Nicholas found himself worrying a thumb between his teeth, and hastily removed it. "Jingle!" he called out. Immediately three elves stood at attention. "Milk and cookies," he instructed them. They practically tumbled over themselves to get into one of their hidey-hole tunnels that led to the kitchen.

Something special. Something special....

He stood, walked to the bookshelf, pulled down this year's red ledger, thumbing to Phillipa Frost. He had put down a doll for her, with red-brown hair like her own, but now that he thought about her and her brother more, he felt that they would appreciate something that they could use together. And what eighteen-year-old boy truly wished to play dolls with his sister?

Chewing his thumb again for a second, Nicholas decided. He drew a slash through "doll" and wrote next to it "skates." Returning to the desk, he put a good-child plus-mark next to Jackson, and a notation of skates for the boy as well.

A good big brother like Jackson would enjoy teaching his sister to ice skate, and a good little sister like Phillipa would enjoy learning.

Satisfied, Nicholas moved on to the next name.

* * *

They sat before the fireplace, on the half-log floor that had been rubbed satin-smooth by hand years before, river rocks polishing all the splinters out. Outside the cabin, snow fell softly, building up on the roof and around the building. It insulated, made the two-room structure feel cozy. Inside the cabin, the stone mantel was draped with evergreens, decorated with sprigs of holly and ivy. Salted pork simmered with beans in a kettle pulled slightly off the fire, and a neatly trussed turkey roasted on a spit before the flames. Soon, a skillet of cornbread would be pushed into a cradle of embers.

Most of the presents had already been opened. Jack already wore his new shirt, made of fine, heavy linen. His mother had sewn it, and Phillipa's embroidery adorned the neck. His father had received a similar one, cut with the high collar he preferred, but Jack liked more ease in getting his clothes on and off. Phillipa had been given a length of fine indigo wool, to make a new dress, and their mother had gotten a new apron from her children (Jack had saved his coins for the cloth, and Phillipa had sewn it) and a small mirror from her husband.

The pieces of horehound candy, one in each shoe, had been carefully secreted away to last the next several months, and now they were down to the last two gifts, the ones in plain brown wrapping paper, tied with twine.

"On three," Jack said. Phillipa nodded. "One... two... three!"

Their fingers raced at untying the string.

"Ha!" Jack won by mere seconds.

His sister pouted. "No fair! You have bigger fingers than me."

He just grinned. "You first." He nodded at her package.

Phillipa bit her lower lip, then carefully pulled the paper loose.

"Oh my," Anne Frost murmured, as her daughter stared with big eyes.

"Ice skates!" Phillipa squealed.

Jack blinked. "Which means that mine must be...." He unwrapped his own parcel, and found that his intuition was correct: he had received a matching pair of skates.

Phillipa flung her arms around him. "Now you have to teach me to skate!"

"Well," Jack said, glancing out the window, "not today. It's snowing too heavily."

"Not today," Thomas Frost corrected, "because it's the Lord's birthday."

Jack smiled and nodded. "Next week," he promised his sister. "I'll teach you how to skate."

Comments

[eerian_sadow]

oh gosh. this is so sweet, but so sad at the same time because we know what's coming.

[sakon76.livejournal.com]

Yup. Kind of like watching an oncoming train wreck. You know what's going to happen, but there's not a thing you can do about it.

And, really, what happens isn't actually anyone's fault. Not Jack's, not Pippa's, not the skates', not North's....

[mmouse15.livejournal.com]

*sob* What a clever gift, and yet...