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maderrFound this resorting my stories. I think I wrote it? But not sure. Vaguely recall it? Does anyone else?
A Winter Story
Spring, traditionally, is the Season of beginnings. New life, new growth, new starts. Spring progresses to Summer, Summer to Fall, and Fall at last moves to Winter, the Season of endings.
Why then, do you suppose, does the year begin and end in Winter?
"What in the name of our father are you doing to my rooms?"
Merriweather blinked innocently up at her brother, not even bothering to try and hide the bouquets of wildflowers clutched in her hands. Setting the aside, she rose to her feet and brushed petals and leaves from her grass-green skirts. "Nothing."
"This place looks hideous," Jack groused, looking at the rainbow of flowers his Spring sister had arranged in every available crevice and across any unoccupied surface. He turned back to Merriweather, glaring. "Seriously. What are you doing?"
Clasping her hand in front of her, smiling gently, Merriweather looked upon her brother with tolerant affection. "Your rooms are gloomy. A few flowers survived your first Frost, so I thought I'd put them to good use and spruce this place up. It really needs it, Jackie."
"I'll be the judge of what my rooms do and do not need, thank you ever so much for interfering."
Merriweather tilted her head, "What's got you so irate?"
"You mean besides the fact that my room looks like one of those damned fairs your precious spring-worshippers like so much?"
"Yes, besides that." As the Season that followed Winter, Merriweather bore a patience when dealing with him that their remaining siblings could only shake their heads at. She peered at him, pink lips twitching in Mirth. "The mortal's complaining again, isn't he?"
A pause, as Jack glared and frowned and pouted all at once, staring at his eldest sister. "Yes," he grumbled at last. "He's complaining more than ever."
Merriweather laughed, a tinkling, happy sound in the austere chambers of her brother's plain brown and blue rooms. "If all my worshippers were half as enthusiastic about loving Springtime as that one is about hating Wintertime, I could usurp Mother for all my power."
Begrudgingly, Jack chuckled. "I would like to see you tell Mother to hop off the throne and leave the ruling to you. Do let me know, when you intend to try that."
Rolling her eyes, Merriweather stooped to retrieve what was left of her flowers. Ignoring Jack's protests, she set about adding them to the few remaining empty spots in the room. "There," she dusted her hands off. "Much better. Maybe these will improve your mood, and you'll stop grousing about a silly mortal."
"Not likely," Jack muttered as he pointedly ignored the flowers to plop down on a large pile of furs in the corner of the room. "All I hear is "I hate winter this, I hate winter that." The man is giving me a headache." He rubbed his forehead, as if to emphasize that it did, indeed, make his head hurt. "I wish he'd just shut up."
Merriweather crooned and murmured soothingly, smoothing down her brother's rumpled, brown-black hair. "You shouldn't let him get to you so, Jackie. He's mortal, he'll pass on soon enough and you won't have to deal with it anymore." She paused, turning thoughtful. "Really, I'm surprised you hear him as well as you do."
"It's because he's away from all the other voices," Jack replied sourly. "He lives alone - I think he hates people almost as much as he hates me." He pushed his sister's hands away, but smiled briefly at her. "Go harass Cedric, give him something more than that awful red to look at. Where is partner in mischief?"
"Aurelia? You know how she is - the cold sets in and she does her best to sleep straight through it."
"Mmm Jack said absently, brow furrowed. "Confound it! There he goes again. What in the world did I ever do to him? Winter isn't that bad!" He surged to his feet, expression stubborn and angry. "He wants to complain, I'll give him something to complain about!"
"Jack! Wait!" Merriweather scrambled to catch her youngest brother, but he was gone.
Outside, an icy wind tugged playfully at his hair, snowflakes kissing his cheeks before being whisked away again by the wind. Jack Frost looked down upon the world below, at the mountains of which he was particularly fond. Cottages were clustered together in a loose, roaming circle near the river, smoke coming from chimneys as both men and women worked in the cold to ensure they continued to stay warm during the long winter months.
His gaze wandered to a house a few days travel from all the others, high in the mountains, a glaring point of civilization where normally only the wild lived. He was used to people grousing about Winter - but the hermit was a bit much.
His dark blue eyes flashed bright, and the air around him shifted, grew colder. There was a bite in the air that hadn't been there before.
The mortal wanted a reason to hate Winter?
Jack Frost would give it to him.
*~*~*~*
"Good grief, Jackie." Cedric eyed his brother as Jack entered the main salon of their home. "What are you trying to do? Make it so cold and frozen that even Merriweather can't break you?"
"Oh, shut up. So I got a little carried away - I'm sure it's good for the mortals to be kept on their toes."
"Yes. Their frozen toes." Cedric swiped floppy red bangs from his face as he stood - they immediately fell back into his eyes as he crossed the room to stand in front of his brother, arms folded across his chest. "Mother's going to have your hide, you know. I hope it was worth it."
"Hmph," Jack looked unimpressed. "My storm was barely worth Mother's notice. But yes, it was worth it."
"What did you do? Kill him?"
Jack narrowed his eyes in warning, "No, I did not kill him. He never leaves that stupid house of his, once the snow sets in. I think he's finally just given up on complaining - just like I wanted."
"That's too bad," Cedric grinned. "I rather liked seeing you all riled up because of one mortal's complaining."
Rolling his eyes and taking a swipe at his brother, Jack snorted and turned away. "Hmph. If you're so bored, Cedric, go harass Marri and Aurie."
"I think I will," Cedric replied to his brother's back. "Where are you going?"
"To gloat over the silent mortal."
"Have fun."
"Oh, I will."
*~*~*~*
His feet crunched in the icy snow as he walked from the forest into the clearing where an old but sturdy wooden cabin resided. Above the sky was clear and blue, the first cloud-free sky since the cold season had arrived. The sun shone down on the snow, the bright light at odds with the profusion of frosty winter white.
Despite the sun, the air was still bitterly cold and the snow and ice showed no signs of melting anytime soon. Jack had no intention of relenting on the cold until he was certain he'd hear no more of the crabby hermit's relentless complaints.
He frowned. Something had seemed strange since he'd entered the clearing - smoke.
Rather, lack thereof. As cold as the weather was, the mortal should have a fire going. Yet no smoke rose from the chimney of the old cabin.
Jack paused briefly, thinking, then shrugged and continued on his way toward the cabin. Pressing his face to one of two small windows, he squinted as he looked through them - best not to use any "tricks" should the mortal spy him first - and saw nothing. "Well, where is he? No fair not being around for me to gloat at." Grumbling and muttering to himself, Jack began to wander around the perimeter of the cabin.
He stumbled to a halt as he reached the back.
Frozen.
The crabby hermit looked like some sort of strange statue, frozen in place. Jack stared, horrified, realizing the mortal had been in the process of gathering firewood when the worst of Jack's storm had hit him.
"I o Jack didn't even realized he'd crossed to examine the frozen man until he was standing before him. "This isn't what I meant to do." He reached out to touch a frozen cheek, dismayed to realize that it really was as cold as it looked. "Mother!"
A sound like wind rushing through leaves answered his cry, as a tall woman with long, wood-brown hair and soft blue eyes appeared before him, shaking her head ruefully. "Honestly, Jackie. What were you thinking?"
Head hanging, Jack remained silent.
"Exactly," his mother said softly but firmly. "You weren't. This isn't the sort of behavior you should be exhibiting. Look what it's done?"
Jack looked again at the frozen hermit, "Is he
His mother was silent a long moment, staring at him thoughtfully. "No, he is not. What do you plan to do about him?"
"I didn't mean to freeze him. I just wanted him to stop railing against Winter."
"And of course you thought this was the best way to do it," she sighed. "You're so like your father."
Jack grimaced, but didn't protest the comparison. He still was gazing at the hermit. "Can I ould I help him?" He looked at his mother, "He won't just be all right once I unfreeze him. Could I help make him healthy again?"
His mother's brows went up in surprise. "Is that what you want to do?"
Discomfited, Jack shrugged. "Yes."
"Very well. But you realize you can't do it as you are."
"I know."
Another beat of silence, as his mother weighed her thoughts. "Very well."
"Thank you, Mother." Jack smiled gratefully, reaching up to kiss her cheek as she bent her head to accept it. She kissed his in return, and as she rose to her full height again she faded away into the sunlight.
Jack knelt in the clearing, clutching the now-unmelted hermit in his arms, a parting favor from his mother. His brown-black hair and pale gray eyes somehow dimmer than they had been before, like he'd lost his luster. His normally white skin had acquired a bit more color; he looked like a man who had lost the brown skin acquired over the summer and turned pale from being stuck indoors for several weeks.
With effort he began to drag the larger man inside, gasping and panting as he at last managed to get him inside and slowly, painfully, up onto the thankfully low-set bed shoved into a corner of the one-room cabin.
There was, strangely, a fire going in the little wood-stove in the center of the room. Jack smiled, sending grateful thoughts to his mother.
She was also the reason he - and his siblings - were not totally ignorant of the ways of mortals. Their father affectionately called his wife a mad eccentric, but Jack was grateful now for her rigorous lessons.
Discarding his heavy cloak and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt - now simple homespun rather than the fine linen he usually wore - he set to work on the mortal.
*~*~*~*
"Nnn Aaron opened his eyes, squeezed them shut again. Opened, closed. "Ugh he tried opening them again, sighing softly when the dim cabin light no longer seemed to hurt. His mind was completely jumbled, the only clear thought in his head 'Something about this is wrong.'
But he wasn't sure what the something was, or what was wrong with it.
He was laying down, so sitting up might be a good idea. He tried it, but as he sat up the heavy fur covering him slid down, and cold air struck his chest - which he hadn't realized was bare until then. Shivering, shaking uncontrollably, he immediately lay back down. His arms worked, he realized, as they moved of their own accord to yank the blankets back up over him - several blankets, and a fur he didn't recognize.
That was strange.
Slowly he turned on his side, looking through the blonde hair falling in his face at the small room of his cabin. There was a fire in the stove, his battered pot sitting atop it, and a man curled up beside it.
That was even stranger.
He tried to speak, but the best he managed was a hoarse "Who-"
The man, who had been absorbed in a book, dropped it as he jerked his head up. "You're awake!"
Aaron wondered distantly why the man sounded so damned cheerful about his being awake. Why in the gods' names was a stranger in his house? What was going on?
Memories were slowly trickling back into his head, as he watched the man approach. His immediate reaction was to sit up, warn the man away, and demand his identity and reasons for being in the cabin.
But that required leaving the warmth of the blankets, and at the moment he was seriously against such a thing.
He hated the cold. In fact, he was pretty certain the last thing he'd been doing was gathering more firewood to ward off the hideous storm winter had decided to throw at him this year. So how had he wound up back inside, mostly naked and obviously cared for by a complete stranger.
"You're finally awake," the man smiled, looking immensely relieved. "I was starting to think you'd just stay asleep forever, or that I'd come too late."
"Who-" Aaron fell silent, frowning in frustration, then managed to clear his throat and try again. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man frowned, "Are you sure you're okay? Would you like another blanket? You're always shivering."
"I'm always cold," Aaron said, then snapped his mouth shut, annoyed that he'd just blurted out to a stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Jack. Jack Frost."
"Strange name."
Jack shrugged, "Name my mother gave me. Would you like some soup? It's nice and hot - would help warm you up."
Aaron opened his mouth to refuse, but Jack had already turned away to fetch the offered soup. He reluctantly sat up as Jack returned with bowl in hand, wincing at the cold air but unable to ignore the rumbling that had suddenly begun in his stomach.
"You seem to be feeling better," Jack said quietly, standing and watching him. "You were in and out of it for awhile - the cold almost killed you." He looked shamed.
Odd.
"What are you doing here?" Aaron asked, as he sipped gingerly at the hot - and much better than his own - soup.
"Making sure you get better," Jack replied.
Aaron frowned at him. "Are you from town? What are you doing up here? No one ever comes up the mountain."
"After a storm like that, we were concerned. I was elected to come investigate. It's a good thing I found you, too." Jack shifted from foot to foot, as if restless or nervous.
"No one from town's ever bothered to check on me before," Aaron said suspiciously.
Jack frowned, "I'm just trying to help - why do you have to be so suspicious?"
Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it again. Grumbling softly, he went back to his soup. "Thanks," he muttered half-heartedly a few minutes later.
Jack only shrugged, and moved to put away his own blanket and book while Aaron finished eating. He came back to take the bowl when he was done. "More?"
"No ou can go if you want."
"What?"
"I said you can go. Since I'm awake, surely you don't want to stay?"
For reply, Jack abruptly stepped close and pushed him none-to-gently back down on the bed. "You should get some more rest, you were out in the cold for a long time before I found you. I'm sure you're not back to full strength yet."
"I'm fine!" Aaron snapped, but his eyes didn't seem to agree as they blinked a few times, and then decided to stay closed. The warmth of the blankets and soup pulled him into sleep, and the last thing he remembered was the ghosting of fingers through his unkempt hair.
Jack sat gingerly on the edge of the rickety bed, toying lightly with the mortal's hair. It was so different from his own - thick and the same gold color as Aurelia's, and it looked like the man used a knife to keep it trimmed.
The man had slept almost soundlessly for the better part of two days - he wasn't sure but he thought maybe the man was recovering rather well. No doubt mother had a hand in it.
He was surprised to find that the crabby, winter-hating hermit was attractive. It wasn't something he typically noticed about mortals - but usually they lived alone like this because they weren't fit to be around other people. His skin was still tan, and the few days of stubble helped to add weight to what Jack realized was an otherwise stark, thin face - the man had plenty of muscle but he didn't seem as large or tough as he knew mountain men to be. Jack had stripped his wet clothes off when working to save him, and had been surprised to see the man only just avoided being bony. It was rather strange, but in the end unimportant.
Green eyes. Jack had been wondering - he hadn't really looked when he'd been frozen, but since he'd begun caring for him, staring at him and playing with his hair, he'd begun to wonder what color they were.
And he still didn't know the man's name. He should have bothered to figure it out before his mother made him mortal. Well, he could ask him eventually.
Jack stifled a sudden yawn - he still wasn't used to just how rapidly mortals tired - and moved to retrieve his own blanket from where he'd folded it and put it away. He hadn't realized the man would go back to sleep so quickly. As angry and snappish as he knew the man could be about things, he was surprised that things had gone so well. Clearly the man still was not feeling completely well.
Even mortal, Jack was hard pressed to be bothered by the cold. His human body was as completely enthralled with the biting air as his immortal self had been - there were some things that would not be forgotten, no matter the form one took. But he used the heavy woolen blanket anyway, because as much as h liked it, the mortal body could only tolerate so much. Stoking the fire, making sure the stove was sealed and no stray sparks would escape and start a greater fire than he really wanted, Jack glanced once last time at the man snoring softly in the bed and then curled up and let himself fall slowly asleep.
He woke to sunlight streaming through the two small cabin windows, and what smelled like porridge on the small stove. Shoving away the blankets, Jack sat up blearily in bed.
Bed?
Jack blinked. What was he doing in the bed? Where was the mortal? Frowning, worried and annoyed, he climbed from beneath the tangle of blankets and strode to the door and out of the cabin.
He followed the sounds around to the back, and glared blackly at the mortal who was busy chopping firewood.
Was the man obsessed?
here more than enough wood to last for days yet. What are you doing out here? You should be resting.
The mortal glared at him through long, pale lashes, reluctantly pausing in his work. hat business is it of yours?
just spent the past few days nursing you back to health, Jack folded his arms over his chest and attempted to look severe. would prefer you not undo all my work by getting yourself sick all over again.
didn ask for your help.
Jack made a face at him. uch gratitude.
The man ignored him, and hefted his ax to resume chopping.
hat your name?
He paused, lowered the ax, and looked at Jack. Aaron.
A pleasure to meet you.
n, Aaron tried again to resume chopping.
here you go being ungrateful again.
Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Aaron gave up and set his ax down. hy are you here?
told you, I came from town to
o, you didn , Aaron snapped. He grabbed his ax and stormed toward and then past Jack. o one from town cares two wits for me. The only person who might have cared about my absence is the shopkeeper, and that only because he would sorely miss the money he makes overcharging me for everything. He glared over his shoulder, ho are you and what do you want with me?
just wanted to make sure you were going to be all right.
Aaron narrowed his eyes, then turned away and made his way around to the front of the cabin. Jack followed close behind him, slipping inside before he could be locked out. o away.
ot until I certain you e all right.
fine! Aaron rounded on him. ust go away. I don know what you want from me, but you e not going to get it. So just go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone!
Jack looked hurt, but in an deserved that sort of way. "I'm not leaving!"
"Why not! I don't want you here, I'm not grateful, so just leave!"
They glared at each other.
Jack broke the silence first, switching tactics. "Most people are usually glad to find out they're alive instead of dead. Why aren't you?"
"Because I don't like being indebted to anyone," Aaron snapped. "Especially people I've never met, especially some waif of a man who looks like a strong wind would knock him over. How did you get all the way up the mountain?"
Ignoring the question, Jack asked another of his own. "You wouldn't have needed rescuing if you lived with other people, instead of hiding up here doing nothing but chopping wood and complaining about the cold."
" ho are you?"
"Would you stop asking me that? It doesn't matter who I am, just that I'm trying to help you."
"It matters to me."
A Winter Story
Spring, traditionally, is the Season of beginnings. New life, new growth, new starts. Spring progresses to Summer, Summer to Fall, and Fall at last moves to Winter, the Season of endings.
Why then, do you suppose, does the year begin and end in Winter?
"What in the name of our father are you doing to my rooms?"
Merriweather blinked innocently up at her brother, not even bothering to try and hide the bouquets of wildflowers clutched in her hands. Setting the aside, she rose to her feet and brushed petals and leaves from her grass-green skirts. "Nothing."
"This place looks hideous," Jack groused, looking at the rainbow of flowers his Spring sister had arranged in every available crevice and across any unoccupied surface. He turned back to Merriweather, glaring. "Seriously. What are you doing?"
Clasping her hand in front of her, smiling gently, Merriweather looked upon her brother with tolerant affection. "Your rooms are gloomy. A few flowers survived your first Frost, so I thought I'd put them to good use and spruce this place up. It really needs it, Jackie."
"I'll be the judge of what my rooms do and do not need, thank you ever so much for interfering."
Merriweather tilted her head, "What's got you so irate?"
"You mean besides the fact that my room looks like one of those damned fairs your precious spring-worshippers like so much?"
"Yes, besides that." As the Season that followed Winter, Merriweather bore a patience when dealing with him that their remaining siblings could only shake their heads at. She peered at him, pink lips twitching in Mirth. "The mortal's complaining again, isn't he?"
A pause, as Jack glared and frowned and pouted all at once, staring at his eldest sister. "Yes," he grumbled at last. "He's complaining more than ever."
Merriweather laughed, a tinkling, happy sound in the austere chambers of her brother's plain brown and blue rooms. "If all my worshippers were half as enthusiastic about loving Springtime as that one is about hating Wintertime, I could usurp Mother for all my power."
Begrudgingly, Jack chuckled. "I would like to see you tell Mother to hop off the throne and leave the ruling to you. Do let me know, when you intend to try that."
Rolling her eyes, Merriweather stooped to retrieve what was left of her flowers. Ignoring Jack's protests, she set about adding them to the few remaining empty spots in the room. "There," she dusted her hands off. "Much better. Maybe these will improve your mood, and you'll stop grousing about a silly mortal."
"Not likely," Jack muttered as he pointedly ignored the flowers to plop down on a large pile of furs in the corner of the room. "All I hear is "I hate winter this, I hate winter that." The man is giving me a headache." He rubbed his forehead, as if to emphasize that it did, indeed, make his head hurt. "I wish he'd just shut up."
Merriweather crooned and murmured soothingly, smoothing down her brother's rumpled, brown-black hair. "You shouldn't let him get to you so, Jackie. He's mortal, he'll pass on soon enough and you won't have to deal with it anymore." She paused, turning thoughtful. "Really, I'm surprised you hear him as well as you do."
"It's because he's away from all the other voices," Jack replied sourly. "He lives alone - I think he hates people almost as much as he hates me." He pushed his sister's hands away, but smiled briefly at her. "Go harass Cedric, give him something more than that awful red to look at. Where is partner in mischief?"
"Aurelia? You know how she is - the cold sets in and she does her best to sleep straight through it."
"Mmm Jack said absently, brow furrowed. "Confound it! There he goes again. What in the world did I ever do to him? Winter isn't that bad!" He surged to his feet, expression stubborn and angry. "He wants to complain, I'll give him something to complain about!"
"Jack! Wait!" Merriweather scrambled to catch her youngest brother, but he was gone.
Outside, an icy wind tugged playfully at his hair, snowflakes kissing his cheeks before being whisked away again by the wind. Jack Frost looked down upon the world below, at the mountains of which he was particularly fond. Cottages were clustered together in a loose, roaming circle near the river, smoke coming from chimneys as both men and women worked in the cold to ensure they continued to stay warm during the long winter months.
His gaze wandered to a house a few days travel from all the others, high in the mountains, a glaring point of civilization where normally only the wild lived. He was used to people grousing about Winter - but the hermit was a bit much.
His dark blue eyes flashed bright, and the air around him shifted, grew colder. There was a bite in the air that hadn't been there before.
The mortal wanted a reason to hate Winter?
Jack Frost would give it to him.
*~*~*~*
"Good grief, Jackie." Cedric eyed his brother as Jack entered the main salon of their home. "What are you trying to do? Make it so cold and frozen that even Merriweather can't break you?"
"Oh, shut up. So I got a little carried away - I'm sure it's good for the mortals to be kept on their toes."
"Yes. Their frozen toes." Cedric swiped floppy red bangs from his face as he stood - they immediately fell back into his eyes as he crossed the room to stand in front of his brother, arms folded across his chest. "Mother's going to have your hide, you know. I hope it was worth it."
"Hmph," Jack looked unimpressed. "My storm was barely worth Mother's notice. But yes, it was worth it."
"What did you do? Kill him?"
Jack narrowed his eyes in warning, "No, I did not kill him. He never leaves that stupid house of his, once the snow sets in. I think he's finally just given up on complaining - just like I wanted."
"That's too bad," Cedric grinned. "I rather liked seeing you all riled up because of one mortal's complaining."
Rolling his eyes and taking a swipe at his brother, Jack snorted and turned away. "Hmph. If you're so bored, Cedric, go harass Marri and Aurie."
"I think I will," Cedric replied to his brother's back. "Where are you going?"
"To gloat over the silent mortal."
"Have fun."
"Oh, I will."
*~*~*~*
His feet crunched in the icy snow as he walked from the forest into the clearing where an old but sturdy wooden cabin resided. Above the sky was clear and blue, the first cloud-free sky since the cold season had arrived. The sun shone down on the snow, the bright light at odds with the profusion of frosty winter white.
Despite the sun, the air was still bitterly cold and the snow and ice showed no signs of melting anytime soon. Jack had no intention of relenting on the cold until he was certain he'd hear no more of the crabby hermit's relentless complaints.
He frowned. Something had seemed strange since he'd entered the clearing - smoke.
Rather, lack thereof. As cold as the weather was, the mortal should have a fire going. Yet no smoke rose from the chimney of the old cabin.
Jack paused briefly, thinking, then shrugged and continued on his way toward the cabin. Pressing his face to one of two small windows, he squinted as he looked through them - best not to use any "tricks" should the mortal spy him first - and saw nothing. "Well, where is he? No fair not being around for me to gloat at." Grumbling and muttering to himself, Jack began to wander around the perimeter of the cabin.
He stumbled to a halt as he reached the back.
Frozen.
The crabby hermit looked like some sort of strange statue, frozen in place. Jack stared, horrified, realizing the mortal had been in the process of gathering firewood when the worst of Jack's storm had hit him.
"I o Jack didn't even realized he'd crossed to examine the frozen man until he was standing before him. "This isn't what I meant to do." He reached out to touch a frozen cheek, dismayed to realize that it really was as cold as it looked. "Mother!"
A sound like wind rushing through leaves answered his cry, as a tall woman with long, wood-brown hair and soft blue eyes appeared before him, shaking her head ruefully. "Honestly, Jackie. What were you thinking?"
Head hanging, Jack remained silent.
"Exactly," his mother said softly but firmly. "You weren't. This isn't the sort of behavior you should be exhibiting. Look what it's done?"
Jack looked again at the frozen hermit, "Is he
His mother was silent a long moment, staring at him thoughtfully. "No, he is not. What do you plan to do about him?"
"I didn't mean to freeze him. I just wanted him to stop railing against Winter."
"And of course you thought this was the best way to do it," she sighed. "You're so like your father."
Jack grimaced, but didn't protest the comparison. He still was gazing at the hermit. "Can I ould I help him?" He looked at his mother, "He won't just be all right once I unfreeze him. Could I help make him healthy again?"
His mother's brows went up in surprise. "Is that what you want to do?"
Discomfited, Jack shrugged. "Yes."
"Very well. But you realize you can't do it as you are."
"I know."
Another beat of silence, as his mother weighed her thoughts. "Very well."
"Thank you, Mother." Jack smiled gratefully, reaching up to kiss her cheek as she bent her head to accept it. She kissed his in return, and as she rose to her full height again she faded away into the sunlight.
Jack knelt in the clearing, clutching the now-unmelted hermit in his arms, a parting favor from his mother. His brown-black hair and pale gray eyes somehow dimmer than they had been before, like he'd lost his luster. His normally white skin had acquired a bit more color; he looked like a man who had lost the brown skin acquired over the summer and turned pale from being stuck indoors for several weeks.
With effort he began to drag the larger man inside, gasping and panting as he at last managed to get him inside and slowly, painfully, up onto the thankfully low-set bed shoved into a corner of the one-room cabin.
There was, strangely, a fire going in the little wood-stove in the center of the room. Jack smiled, sending grateful thoughts to his mother.
She was also the reason he - and his siblings - were not totally ignorant of the ways of mortals. Their father affectionately called his wife a mad eccentric, but Jack was grateful now for her rigorous lessons.
Discarding his heavy cloak and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt - now simple homespun rather than the fine linen he usually wore - he set to work on the mortal.
*~*~*~*
"Nnn Aaron opened his eyes, squeezed them shut again. Opened, closed. "Ugh he tried opening them again, sighing softly when the dim cabin light no longer seemed to hurt. His mind was completely jumbled, the only clear thought in his head 'Something about this is wrong.'
But he wasn't sure what the something was, or what was wrong with it.
He was laying down, so sitting up might be a good idea. He tried it, but as he sat up the heavy fur covering him slid down, and cold air struck his chest - which he hadn't realized was bare until then. Shivering, shaking uncontrollably, he immediately lay back down. His arms worked, he realized, as they moved of their own accord to yank the blankets back up over him - several blankets, and a fur he didn't recognize.
That was strange.
Slowly he turned on his side, looking through the blonde hair falling in his face at the small room of his cabin. There was a fire in the stove, his battered pot sitting atop it, and a man curled up beside it.
That was even stranger.
He tried to speak, but the best he managed was a hoarse "Who-"
The man, who had been absorbed in a book, dropped it as he jerked his head up. "You're awake!"
Aaron wondered distantly why the man sounded so damned cheerful about his being awake. Why in the gods' names was a stranger in his house? What was going on?
Memories were slowly trickling back into his head, as he watched the man approach. His immediate reaction was to sit up, warn the man away, and demand his identity and reasons for being in the cabin.
But that required leaving the warmth of the blankets, and at the moment he was seriously against such a thing.
He hated the cold. In fact, he was pretty certain the last thing he'd been doing was gathering more firewood to ward off the hideous storm winter had decided to throw at him this year. So how had he wound up back inside, mostly naked and obviously cared for by a complete stranger.
"You're finally awake," the man smiled, looking immensely relieved. "I was starting to think you'd just stay asleep forever, or that I'd come too late."
"Who-" Aaron fell silent, frowning in frustration, then managed to clear his throat and try again. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man frowned, "Are you sure you're okay? Would you like another blanket? You're always shivering."
"I'm always cold," Aaron said, then snapped his mouth shut, annoyed that he'd just blurted out to a stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Jack. Jack Frost."
"Strange name."
Jack shrugged, "Name my mother gave me. Would you like some soup? It's nice and hot - would help warm you up."
Aaron opened his mouth to refuse, but Jack had already turned away to fetch the offered soup. He reluctantly sat up as Jack returned with bowl in hand, wincing at the cold air but unable to ignore the rumbling that had suddenly begun in his stomach.
"You seem to be feeling better," Jack said quietly, standing and watching him. "You were in and out of it for awhile - the cold almost killed you." He looked shamed.
Odd.
"What are you doing here?" Aaron asked, as he sipped gingerly at the hot - and much better than his own - soup.
"Making sure you get better," Jack replied.
Aaron frowned at him. "Are you from town? What are you doing up here? No one ever comes up the mountain."
"After a storm like that, we were concerned. I was elected to come investigate. It's a good thing I found you, too." Jack shifted from foot to foot, as if restless or nervous.
"No one from town's ever bothered to check on me before," Aaron said suspiciously.
Jack frowned, "I'm just trying to help - why do you have to be so suspicious?"
Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it again. Grumbling softly, he went back to his soup. "Thanks," he muttered half-heartedly a few minutes later.
Jack only shrugged, and moved to put away his own blanket and book while Aaron finished eating. He came back to take the bowl when he was done. "More?"
"No ou can go if you want."
"What?"
"I said you can go. Since I'm awake, surely you don't want to stay?"
For reply, Jack abruptly stepped close and pushed him none-to-gently back down on the bed. "You should get some more rest, you were out in the cold for a long time before I found you. I'm sure you're not back to full strength yet."
"I'm fine!" Aaron snapped, but his eyes didn't seem to agree as they blinked a few times, and then decided to stay closed. The warmth of the blankets and soup pulled him into sleep, and the last thing he remembered was the ghosting of fingers through his unkempt hair.
Jack sat gingerly on the edge of the rickety bed, toying lightly with the mortal's hair. It was so different from his own - thick and the same gold color as Aurelia's, and it looked like the man used a knife to keep it trimmed.
The man had slept almost soundlessly for the better part of two days - he wasn't sure but he thought maybe the man was recovering rather well. No doubt mother had a hand in it.
He was surprised to find that the crabby, winter-hating hermit was attractive. It wasn't something he typically noticed about mortals - but usually they lived alone like this because they weren't fit to be around other people. His skin was still tan, and the few days of stubble helped to add weight to what Jack realized was an otherwise stark, thin face - the man had plenty of muscle but he didn't seem as large or tough as he knew mountain men to be. Jack had stripped his wet clothes off when working to save him, and had been surprised to see the man only just avoided being bony. It was rather strange, but in the end unimportant.
Green eyes. Jack had been wondering - he hadn't really looked when he'd been frozen, but since he'd begun caring for him, staring at him and playing with his hair, he'd begun to wonder what color they were.
And he still didn't know the man's name. He should have bothered to figure it out before his mother made him mortal. Well, he could ask him eventually.
Jack stifled a sudden yawn - he still wasn't used to just how rapidly mortals tired - and moved to retrieve his own blanket from where he'd folded it and put it away. He hadn't realized the man would go back to sleep so quickly. As angry and snappish as he knew the man could be about things, he was surprised that things had gone so well. Clearly the man still was not feeling completely well.
Even mortal, Jack was hard pressed to be bothered by the cold. His human body was as completely enthralled with the biting air as his immortal self had been - there were some things that would not be forgotten, no matter the form one took. But he used the heavy woolen blanket anyway, because as much as h liked it, the mortal body could only tolerate so much. Stoking the fire, making sure the stove was sealed and no stray sparks would escape and start a greater fire than he really wanted, Jack glanced once last time at the man snoring softly in the bed and then curled up and let himself fall slowly asleep.
He woke to sunlight streaming through the two small cabin windows, and what smelled like porridge on the small stove. Shoving away the blankets, Jack sat up blearily in bed.
Bed?
Jack blinked. What was he doing in the bed? Where was the mortal? Frowning, worried and annoyed, he climbed from beneath the tangle of blankets and strode to the door and out of the cabin.
He followed the sounds around to the back, and glared blackly at the mortal who was busy chopping firewood.
Was the man obsessed?
here more than enough wood to last for days yet. What are you doing out here? You should be resting.
The mortal glared at him through long, pale lashes, reluctantly pausing in his work. hat business is it of yours?
just spent the past few days nursing you back to health, Jack folded his arms over his chest and attempted to look severe. would prefer you not undo all my work by getting yourself sick all over again.
didn ask for your help.
Jack made a face at him. uch gratitude.
The man ignored him, and hefted his ax to resume chopping.
hat your name?
He paused, lowered the ax, and looked at Jack. Aaron.
A pleasure to meet you.
n, Aaron tried again to resume chopping.
here you go being ungrateful again.
Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Aaron gave up and set his ax down. hy are you here?
told you, I came from town to
o, you didn , Aaron snapped. He grabbed his ax and stormed toward and then past Jack. o one from town cares two wits for me. The only person who might have cared about my absence is the shopkeeper, and that only because he would sorely miss the money he makes overcharging me for everything. He glared over his shoulder, ho are you and what do you want with me?
just wanted to make sure you were going to be all right.
Aaron narrowed his eyes, then turned away and made his way around to the front of the cabin. Jack followed close behind him, slipping inside before he could be locked out. o away.
ot until I certain you e all right.
fine! Aaron rounded on him. ust go away. I don know what you want from me, but you e not going to get it. So just go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone!
Jack looked hurt, but in an deserved that sort of way. "I'm not leaving!"
"Why not! I don't want you here, I'm not grateful, so just leave!"
They glared at each other.
Jack broke the silence first, switching tactics. "Most people are usually glad to find out they're alive instead of dead. Why aren't you?"
"Because I don't like being indebted to anyone," Aaron snapped. "Especially people I've never met, especially some waif of a man who looks like a strong wind would knock him over. How did you get all the way up the mountain?"
Ignoring the question, Jack asked another of his own. "You wouldn't have needed rescuing if you lived with other people, instead of hiding up here doing nothing but chopping wood and complaining about the cold."
" ho are you?"
"Would you stop asking me that? It doesn't matter who I am, just that I'm trying to help you."
"It matters to me."
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 03:00 am (UTC)I'm certain the frigid temps will inspire me when they come to beat down the splendid heat.
And now I'm off to bed. G'night!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 05:36 am (UTC)Setting the aside, she rose to her feet and brushed petals and leaves from her grass-green skirts. "Nothing."
"them" there.
Merriweather tilted her head, "What's got you so irate?"
Fullstop, comma.
She peered at him, pink lips twitching in Mirth. "The mortal's complaining again, isn't he?"
"Mirth" gets a capitalised first letter? *curious*
Rolling her eyes, Merriweather stooped to retrieve what was left of her flowers. Ignoring Jack's protests, she set about adding them to the few remaining empty spots in the room. "There," she dusted her hands off. "Much better. Maybe these will improve your mood, and you'll stop grousing about a silly mortal."
Right before this paragraph, your 'between paragraph space' got eaten.
"Go harass Cedric, give him something more than that awful red to look at. Where is [your] partner in mischief?"
Did you miss the [your] there? And actually, if you capitalise "Partner in Mischief", you could leave it as it is. XD;;;;
"Mmm Jack said absently, brow furrowed.
Missed the comma and close inverted comma at the end of "Mmm" there.
"I o Jack didn't even realized he'd crossed to examine the frozen man until he was standing before him. "This isn't what I meant to do." He reached out to touch a frozen cheek, dismayed to realize that it really was as cold as it looked. "Mother!"
Formatting in the beginning of that line there. And "didn't even realize" there.
Jack looked again at the frozen hermit, "Is he
You trailed off there?
"Can I ould I help him?" He looked at his mother, "He won't just be all right once I unfreeze him. Could I help make him healthy again?"
I think "could" would sound better there? Because you used "could" again later.
His brown-black hair and pale gray eyes somehow dimmer than they had been before, like he'd lost his luster.
I'm not sure, but should that be "lustre"? I'm never sure which form to use, really.
"Nnn." Aaron opened his eyes, [then] squeezed them shut again. Opened, closed. "Ugh he tried opening them again, sighing softly when the dim cabin light no longer seemed to hurt. His mind was completely jumbled, the only clear thought in his head 'Something about this is wrong.'
Possible suggestions bolded, and after the "ugh" bit, you're missing a closed inverted comma and either a comma or a fullstop. (Probably a fullstop, if you ask me. Be careful of the "he" after that, if you're using a fullstop.)
The man frowned, "Are you sure you're okay? Would you like another blanket? You're always shivering."
Fullstop, comma.
"I'm always cold," Aaron said, then snapped his mouth shut, annoyed that he'd just blurted [that] out to a stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.
Possible word missing there?
"I'm Jack. Jack Frost."
"Strange name."
Paragraph break got eaten.
Jack shrugged, "Name my mother gave me. Would you like some soup? It's nice and hot - would help warm you up."
Fullstop, comma.
Jack frowned, "I'm just trying to help - why do you have to be so suspicious?"
Fullstop, comma.
Also, I'm amused at how Jack dodges questions.
"No ou can go if you want."
I'm assuming that's a "you".
But he used the heavy woolen blanket anyway, because as much as h liked it, the mortal body could only tolerate so much.
"he" there?
Stoking the fire, making sure the stove was sealed and no stray sparks would escape and start a greater fire than he really wanted, Jack glanced once last time at the man snoring softly in the bed and then curled up and let himself fall slowly asleep.
"once more" or "one last time"?
He woke to sunlight streaming through the two small cabin windows, and what smelled like porridge on the small stove. Shoving away the blankets, Jack sat up blearily in bed.
Bed?
Paragraph break eaten.
After this...
Was the man obsessed?
It gets a bit, um, messy?
Didn't you do Winter/human stories before? I remember some from you... One about a girl who the embodiment of winter found, and then one about her son, I believe.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 10:26 am (UTC)Lol. You beta even the stuff I have no idea when I'll finish ^_^ It probably got messy b/c it looks like I was typing fast just to get done.
Thanks, Ki!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 10:28 am (UTC)AH HA!! I remember that! ^_^
no subject
Date: 2005-07-15 11:43 am (UTC)*huuugs* It's cute. XD