Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome back to Sleepy Stories. I'm your host, Lucy,
Speaker 1: and my friends and I will be reading you a
Speaker 1: sleepy bedtime story every week to relax you and to
Speaker 1: help you to drift off into a RESTful sleep. From
Speaker 1: time to time, we will also read you a relaxing,
Speaker 1: peaceful meditation that will take you somewhere beautiful and calming.
Speaker 1: Once we have read the stories, we will then read
Speaker 1: them a second time, but this time they will be
Speaker 1: read read even slower. This will help you to relax
Speaker 1: even more. Before we begin, I would like you to
Speaker 1: close your eyes and breathe in and out nice and deeply.
Speaker 1: Take a few seconds to inhale, and then hold your
Speaker 1: breath for a few seconds more, and then release and
Speaker 1: breathe out. Do this a few times if you need to.
Speaker 1: While you listen to the music and you listen to
Speaker 1: my voice, give yourself time to let your body relax
Speaker 1: and your mind settle. It's important that we allow time
Speaker 1: for us to feel safe, cozy, and completely at ease.
Speaker 1: And now it's time for this week's story.
Speaker 2: If you stood at the very edge of the river
Speaker 2: bank in the village of frost Leam and looked far
Speaker 2: beyond the frozen fields, you could almost see the shimmer
Speaker 2: of the snow Queen's palace, not a palace made of
Speaker 2: bricks or stone, but of swirling ice and glimmering frost,
Speaker 2: shaped by winter winds and moonlight. Everyone in Frostleam grew
Speaker 2: up hearing stories about her. Some said she ruled the
Speaker 2: winter skies. Some swore she could turn tears into snowflakes.
Speaker 2: Others insisted that she wandered the world each December looking
Speaker 2: for something, though no one ever agreed on what. Elsie Doolin,
Speaker 2: who was as curious as she was forgetful, liked the
Speaker 2: story about the snow queen searching for something, not something
Speaker 2: precious or powerful, but something she couldn't make for herself.
Speaker 2: A queen with everything must be missing something, big, Elsie
Speaker 2: told her granddad one evening, as she helped him hang
Speaker 2: lanterns outside their cottage. They swung gently in the frosty air,
Speaker 2: sending glimmers of golden light down the snowy street. Grandad
Speaker 2: chuckled behind his thick white mustache. Aye, that's how the
Speaker 2: story goes. They say she can shape ice into anything
Speaker 2: except one thing. What thing? Elsie dust eagerly Grandad winked
Speaker 2: warmth lass real warmth, not the kind from a fire,
Speaker 2: the kind that only lives inside hearts. Elsie loved that idea,
Speaker 2: the most powerful being of winter searching for warmth. She
Speaker 2: imagined the snow queen with snow diamond ear rings and
Speaker 2: a cloak made of clouds, wandering through icy mountains, looking
Speaker 2: sad because she didn't know how to make kindness, or
Speaker 2: laughter or friendliness. Of course, plenty of grown ups said
Speaker 2: these stories were just nonsense, but the children of frost
Speaker 2: Leam had their suspicions, especially around Christmas time, for that
Speaker 2: was when the snow behaved strangely, swirling into shapes, glittering
Speaker 2: brighter than usual, and sometimes just for a moment, forming tall,
Speaker 2: queenlike ripples on rooftops before collapsing back into ordinary drifts.
Speaker 2: The first snowfall of December arrived like a feather landing.
Speaker 2: It dusted the rooftops at dawn, thin and shimmering. Elsie
Speaker 2: rushed out of bed, tripped over her slippers twice, and
Speaker 2: pressed her face to the window. The snow was fresh
Speaker 2: and sparkling, like a million diamonds scattered across Frostleam. Granddad
Speaker 2: whistled low when he saw it. Not ordinary snow today,
Speaker 2: he muttered, looks like she's near. Elsie practically bounced, do
Speaker 2: you think? Do you think she'll come here? Grandad shrugged,
Speaker 2: Only if there's something she needs, I suppose. Elsie spent
Speaker 2: the day wondering what the snow queen could ever possibly
Speaker 2: need from a little village like Frostleam. They had their
Speaker 2: annual winter market, coming with strings of golden lights, warm stews, sugardns, nuts,
Speaker 2: fiddlers and flutes, sleigh rides, and the great snow Feast
Speaker 2: on Christmas Eve. Frostleyan wasn't wealthy, fancy or important, but
Speaker 2: it was always merry. Maybe that was the secret. That afternoon,
Speaker 2: Elsie helped the baker, Missus Honeywell, by sweeping scattered flower
Speaker 2: while nibbling dough scraps. When she thought no one was looking.
Speaker 2: Missus Honeywell's son Milo was busy stirring a vat of
Speaker 2: cinnamon buttered apples. Milo was quiet and thoughtful, the kind
Speaker 2: of boy who could read emotions like a map. He
Speaker 2: caught her nibbling, but only handed her an apple slice
Speaker 2: dipped in sugar, pretending not to see the stolen bits.
Speaker 2: You think she's real, don't you, Milo asked quietly. The
Speaker 2: Snow Queen Elsie nodded at once. I think she's looking
Speaker 2: for something. I think she comes where people are happy.
Speaker 2: Milo stirred the pot slowly. My mum hasn't been happy
Speaker 2: in a long time, not since Dad passed away. Do
Speaker 2: you think the snow Queen cares about that sort of thing?
Speaker 2: Elsie's voice softened. She's a queen of winter, not sadness.
Speaker 2: But maybe she can see cold hearts the way others
Speaker 2: see cold hands. Milo looked out the frosted bakery window.
Speaker 2: Maybe she should stop here then. Later, Elsie helped mister
Speaker 2: Crumble restore old sleigh bells, visited her friend Ginny, who
Speaker 2: was knitting scarves for charity, and carried baskets of firewood
Speaker 2: for elderly missus Blythe who lived alone and had too
Speaker 2: many cats and too few visitors. Everywhere she went, she
Speaker 2: wondered if laughter, kindness, or generosity was the thing the
Speaker 2: Snow Queen longed for and couldn't create herself. By evening,
Speaker 2: whispers were everywhere, children claiming they saw sparkles moving through
Speaker 2: the air, Adults noticing sudden, beautiful frost patterns curling across
Speaker 2: windows like delicate lace. Some said they felt the air
Speaker 2: holding its breath. Just after sunset, a brilliant streak of
Speaker 2: icy light tore across the sky, a shooting star made
Speaker 2: of frost. It landed in the woods near Frostleam's edge,
Speaker 2: leaving a trail of frozen sparkles in the air. The
Speaker 2: entire village gasped. Some ran inside, others ran toward the glow.
Speaker 2: Elsie did the latter. She wrapped her coat tight, boots
Speaker 2: crunching in snow, and sprinted toward the river. Milo appeared
Speaker 2: beside her, panting cheeks, red, you're not going without me.
Speaker 2: The woods at night light were dazzling, lit by moonlight,
Speaker 2: bouncing off snow. As they hurried onward, an icy wind
Speaker 2: rushed between the trees, but not angrily. It sounded almost
Speaker 2: like a whispered melody. And then they saw her. She
Speaker 2: stood in the clearing, not grand or towering, but tall, graceful,
Speaker 2: and gleaming with winter itself. Her gowns shimmered in silvers
Speaker 2: and pale blues, frost trailing behind like silk. Her hair
Speaker 2: was white as a snowstorm, yet looked soft, not cold.
Speaker 2: Her eyes were clear and piercing, like icicles catching sunlight.
Speaker 2: A crown of snowflakes rested on her head, never melting,
Speaker 2: always shifting in delicate patterns. Elsie and Milo froze in awe.
Speaker 2: The snow Queen turned to them, studying them with a
Speaker 2: gaze that made Elsie feel both chilled and safe at
Speaker 2: the the same time. I seek something, the queen said,
Speaker 2: her voice wind soft and bell bright. Something no frost
Speaker 2: can shape, no ice can forge. You children of frost
Speaker 2: leam carry warmth in ways even the sun cannot Milow
Speaker 2: swallowed warmth like hugs. The queen smiled gently, like what
Speaker 2: lies beneath them, warmth of spirit, warmth that men's warmth
Speaker 2: that welcomes. Elsie stepped forward nervously. We have warmth everywhere.
Speaker 2: You can have as much as you want. The snow
Speaker 2: Queen's expression flickered with sadness. Warmth cannot be taken, It
Speaker 2: must be given. Then she looked around the village, lights
Speaker 2: twinkling in the distance. Will you help me learn so
Speaker 2: I may bring warmth where it is needed most. Elsie's
Speaker 2: heart sore. We can teach you, Milo hesitated, but warmth
Speaker 2: isn't a thing, It's just something you feel. No, Elsie said,
Speaker 2: it's something you share. The snow Queen's eyes glistened like
Speaker 2: thawing frost. Then let us share. They brought her into
Speaker 2: frost leam, not openly but quietly. She moved as snow moves,
Speaker 2: unnoticed if you weren't looking. She watched Missus Honeywell smile
Speaker 2: when Milo helped stir the market pot, despite her heavy sadness.
Speaker 2: She observed mister Crumble fixing sleigh bells for free because
Speaker 2: he liked hearing children giggle as they jingled. She saw
Speaker 2: Elsie deliver firewood to Missus Blythe, who tried not to
Speaker 2: cry because kindness still startled her. Every act of warmth
Speaker 2: made the snow Queen's icy cloak shimmer as though melting,
Speaker 2: not in a destructive way, but like ice turning into
Speaker 2: morning dew. She did not fully understand, but she was learning.
Speaker 2: At the winter market, the Queen hid among snow and frost,
Speaker 2: nearly invisible, but she studied every moment. She watched neighbours
Speaker 2: share hot stew with a poor family, saw children hold
Speaker 2: hands skating on the frozen pond, heard old Missus Blythe's
Speaker 2: laughter when her cats chased falling snowflakes, and she listened
Speaker 2: to the villagers sing, not perfectly, but together. Warmth spread
Speaker 2: like sunlight through snow. Then came the snow Feast on
Speaker 2: Christmas Eve. Long tables lined the square, lanterns glowed golden,
Speaker 2: musicians played fiddles, and everyone rich, poor, lonely, shy shared
Speaker 2: food and stories. Missus Honeywell laughed true July for the
Speaker 2: first time in years, surprising herself. Mister Crumble accidentally spilled
Speaker 2: cinnamon into stew, and instead of scolding him, people cheered.
Speaker 2: It tasted wonderful. Elsie's granddad told jokes so terrible that
Speaker 2: people laughed just to make them stop. And in the
Speaker 2: middle of the joy, frost began swirling in the air,
Speaker 2: not coldly, beautifully, and the snow Queen stepped into sight.
Speaker 2: This time, no one screamed or ran, children stared, adults
Speaker 2: stood frozen in awe, yet not with fear. The Queen
Speaker 2: spoke softly, her voice like a candle seen through ice.
Speaker 2: You have given me what I could not make alone.
Speaker 2: Warmth that lives inside, warmth that reaches out, the warmth
Speaker 2: that says you belong a hush swept across frost lean
Speaker 2: Missus Honeywell wiped her eyes. Grandad nodded knowingly. Milo stood tall,
Speaker 2: proud that kindness mattered so much. The Queen lifted her hand,
Speaker 2: and snowflakes drifted upward instead of downwards, dancing like tiny stars.
Speaker 2: A soft glow spread across the village, no longer icy blue,
Speaker 2: but gold and white, like dawn touching frost. I will
Speaker 2: carry this warmth where cold hearts suffer, she said, And
Speaker 2: wherever I leave a trail of frost touched by light,
Speaker 2: you will know I brought your gift. Elsie stepped closer.
Speaker 2: Will we ever see you again? The queen smiled. When
Speaker 2: a place forgets warmth, winter comes looking, But as long
Speaker 2: as you share what you have shared tonight, I will
Speaker 2: not be needed here. Snow swirled around her like a
Speaker 2: tender embrace, lifting her slowly into the starry sky. She
Speaker 2: vanished in a shimmer that looked like thousands of flurries,
Speaker 2: softly exhaling. From that night onward, Frostleam never feared winter.
Speaker 2: When snow glittered unusually bright, or frost curled into elegant shapes,
Speaker 2: the townsfolk would say, there she is reminding someone else
Speaker 2: how to belong. Elsie kept the memory close like a
Speaker 2: secret ornament. Milo helped his mother run the bakery with
Speaker 2: warmth in every recipe. Missus Blythe opened her door more often.
Speaker 2: Mister Crumble became famous for his cinnamon accident stew, and
Speaker 2: the whole village learned that warmth is the one gift
Speaker 2: you cannot buy, horde or borrow, only share. Winter still
Speaker 2: came cold as ever, but it never felt lonely again,
Speaker 2: because when hearts learn how to warm each other, even
Speaker 2: snow glows from the inside. If you stood at the
Speaker 2: very edge of the river bank in the village of
Speaker 2: frost Leam and looked far beyond the frozen fields, you
Speaker 2: could almost see the shimmer of the snow Queen's palace,
Speaker 2: not a palace made of bricks or stone, but of
Speaker 2: swirling ice and glimmering frost, shaped by winter winds and moonlight.
Speaker 2: Everyone in Frostleam grew up hearing stories about her. Some
Speaker 2: said she ruled the winter skies. Some swore she could
Speaker 2: turn tears into snowflakes. Others insisted that she wandered the
Speaker 2: world each December looking for something, though no one ever
Speaker 2: agreed on what Elsie Doolin, who was as curious as
Speaker 2: she was forgetful life. The story about the snow queen
Speaker 2: searching for something, not something precious or powerful, but something
Speaker 2: she couldn't make for herself. A queen with everything must
Speaker 2: be missing something, big, Elsie told her granddad one evening,
Speaker 2: as she helped him hang lanterns outside their cottage. They
Speaker 2: swung gently in the frosty air, sending glimmers of golden
Speaker 2: light down the snowy street. Grandad chuckled behind his thick
Speaker 2: white mustache. Aye, that's how the story goes. They say
Speaker 2: she can shape ice into anything except one thing. What thing?
Speaker 2: Elsie asked eagerly. Grandad winked warmth, lass, real warmth, not
Speaker 2: the kind from a fire, the kind that only lives
Speaker 2: inside hearts. Elsie loved that idea, the most powerful being
Speaker 2: of winter searching for warmth. She imagined the snow queen
Speaker 2: with snow diamond ear rings and a cloak made of clouds,
Speaker 2: wandering through icy mountains, looking sad because she didn't know
Speaker 2: how to make kindness or laughter or friendliness. Of course,
Speaker 2: plenty of grown ups said these stories were just nonsense,
Speaker 2: but the children of frost Leam had their suspicions, especially
Speaker 2: around Christmas time, for that was when the snow behaved strangely,
Speaker 2: swirling into shapes, glittering brighter than usual, and sometimes just
Speaker 2: for a moment, forming tall queenlike ripples on rooftops before
Speaker 2: collapsing back into ordinary drifts. The first snowfall of December
Speaker 2: arrived like a feather landing. It dusted the rooftops at dawn,
Speaker 2: thin and shimmering. Elsie rushed out of bed, tripped over
Speaker 2: her slippers twice, and pressed her face to the window.
Speaker 2: The snow was fresh and sparkling, like a million diamonds
Speaker 2: scattered across Frostleam. Grandad whistled low when he saw it.
Speaker 2: Not ordinary snow today, he muttered, looks like she's near.
Speaker 2: Elsie practically bounced, do you think? Do you think she'll
Speaker 2: come here? Grandad shrugged. Only if there's something she needs,
Speaker 2: I suppose. Elsie spent the day wondering what the snow
Speaker 2: queen could ever possibly need from a little village like Frostleam.
Speaker 2: They had their annual winter market, coming with strings of
Speaker 2: golden lights, warm stews, sugared nuts, fiddlers and flutes, sleigh
Speaker 2: rides and the Great snow Feast on Christmas Eve. Frostleam
Speaker 2: wasn't wealthy, fancy, or important, but it was always merry.
Speaker 2: Maybe that was the secret. That afternoon, Elsie helped the baker,
Speaker 2: Missus honey Well, by sweeping scattered flower while nibbling dough
Speaker 2: scraps when she thought no one was looking. Missus Honeywell's
Speaker 2: son Milo was busy stirring a vat of cinnamon buttered apples.
Speaker 2: Milo was quiet and thoughtful, the kind of boy who
Speaker 2: could read emotions like a map. He caught her nibbling,
Speaker 2: but only handed her an apple slice dipped in sugar,
Speaker 2: pretending not to see the stolen bits. You think she's real,
Speaker 2: don't you, Milo asked quietly. The snow Queen. Elsie nodded
Speaker 2: at once. I think she's looking for something. I think
Speaker 2: she comes where people are happy. Milo stirred the pot slowly.
Speaker 2: My mum hasn't been happy in a long time, not
Speaker 2: since Dad passed away. Do you think the snow Queen
Speaker 2: cares about that sort of thing? Elsie's voice softened. She's
Speaker 2: a queen of winter, not sadness. But maybe she can
Speaker 2: see cold hearts the way others see cold hands. Milo
Speaker 2: looked out the frosted bakery window. Maybe she should stop here.
Speaker 3: Then.
Speaker 2: Later, Elsie helped mister Crumble restore old sleigh bells, visited
Speaker 2: her friend Ginny, who was knitting scarves for charity, and
Speaker 2: carried baskets of firewood for elderly missus Blythe who lived
Speaker 2: alone and had too many cats and two few visitors.
Speaker 2: Everywhere she went, she wondered if laughter, kindness, or generosity
Speaker 2: was the thing the snow Queen longed for and couldn't
Speaker 2: create herself. By evening, whispers were everywhere, children claiming they
Speaker 2: saw sparkles moving through the air, Adults noticing sudden, beautiful
Speaker 2: frost patterns curling across windows like delicate lace. Some said
Speaker 2: they felt the air holding its breath. Just after sunset,
Speaker 2: a brilliant streak of icy light tore across the sky
Speaker 2: a shooting star made of frost. It landed in the
Speaker 2: woods near frost Leam's Edge, leaving a trail of frozen
Speaker 2: sparkles in the air. The entire village gasped. Some ran inside,
Speaker 2: others ran toward the glow. Elsie did the latter. She
Speaker 2: wrapped her coat tight boots crunching in snow, and sprinted
Speaker 2: toward the river. Milo appeared beside her, panting cheeks, red,
Speaker 2: you're not going without me. The woods at night were dazzling,
Speaker 2: lit by moonlight, bouncing off snow. As they hurried onward,
Speaker 2: an icy wind rushed between the trees, but not angrily.
Speaker 2: It sounded almost like a whispered melody. And then they
Speaker 2: saw her. She stood in the clearing, not grand or towering,
Speaker 2: but tall, graceful, and gleaming with winter itself. Her gown
Speaker 2: shimmered in silvers and pale blues, frost trailing behind like silk.
Speaker 2: Her hair was white as a snowstorm, yet looked soft,
Speaker 2: not cold. Her eyes were clear and piercing, like icicles
Speaker 2: catching sunlight. A crown of snowflakes rested on her head,
Speaker 2: never melting, always shifting in delicate patterns. Elsie and Milo
Speaker 2: froze in awe. The snow queen turned to them, studying
Speaker 2: them with a gaze that made Elsie feel both chilled
Speaker 2: and safe at the same time. I seek something, the
Speaker 2: queen said, her voice, wind soft and bell bright. Something
Speaker 2: no frost can shape, no ice can forge.
Speaker 3: You.
Speaker 2: Children of frost, leam, carry warmth, in ways even the
Speaker 2: sun cannot. Milow swallowed warmth like hugs. The queen smiled gently,
Speaker 2: like what lies beneath them, warmth of spirit, warmth, that
Speaker 2: men's warmth that welcomes. Elsie stepped forward nervously. We have
Speaker 2: warmth everywhere. You can have as much as you want.
Speaker 2: The snow Queen's expression flickered with sadness. Warmth cannot be taken,
Speaker 2: It must be given. Then she looked around the village,
Speaker 2: lights twinkling in the distance. Will you help me learn
Speaker 2: so I may bring warmth where it is needed most
Speaker 2: Elsie's heart sword. We can teach you. Milow hesitated, But
Speaker 2: warmth isn't a thing. It's just something you feel. No,
Speaker 2: Elsie said, it's something you share. The snow Queen's eyes
Speaker 2: glistened like thawing frost. Let us share. They brought her
Speaker 2: into frost leam, not openly, but quietly. She moved as
Speaker 2: snow moves, unnoticed if you weren't looking. She watched missus
Speaker 2: Honeywell smile when Milo helped stir the market pot despite
Speaker 2: her heavy sadness. She observed mister Crumble fixing sleigh bells
Speaker 2: for free because he liked hearing children giggle as they jingled.
Speaker 2: She saw Elsie deliver firewood to Missus Blythe, who tried
Speaker 2: not to cry because kindness still startled her. Every act
Speaker 2: of warmth made the snow Queen's icy cloak shimmer as
Speaker 2: though melting, not in a destructive way, but like ice
Speaker 2: turning into morning dew. She did not fully understand, but
Speaker 2: she was learning. At the winter market, the Queen hid
Speaker 2: among snow and frost, nearly invisible, but she studied every moment.
Speaker 2: She watched neighbours share hot stew with a poor family,
Speaker 2: saw children hold hands skating on the frozen pond, heard
Speaker 2: old Missus Blyth's laughter when her cats chased falling snowflakes,
Speaker 2: and she listened to the villagers sing, not perfectly but together.
Speaker 2: Warmth spread like sunlight through snow. Then came the snow
Speaker 2: Feast on Christmas Eve. Long tables lined the square, lanterns glowed,
Speaker 2: golden musicians played fiddles, and everyone rich, poor, lonely, shy
Speaker 2: shared food and stories. Missus Honeywell laughed truly for the
Speaker 2: first time in years, surprising herself. Mister Crumble accidentally spilled
Speaker 2: cinnamon into stew and instead of scolding him. People cheered,
Speaker 2: It tasted wonderful. Elsie's granddad told jokes so terrible that
Speaker 2: people laughed just to make the stop. And in the
Speaker 2: middle of the joy, frost began swirling in the air,
Speaker 2: not coldly, beautifully, and the snow Queen stepped into sight.
Speaker 2: This time, no one screamed or ran, children stared, adults
Speaker 2: stood frozen in awe, yet not with fear. The Queen
Speaker 2: spoke softly, her voice like a candle seen through ice.
Speaker 2: You have given me what I could not make alone,
Speaker 2: warmth that lives inside, warmth that reaches out, the warmth
Speaker 2: that says you belong. A hush swept across frost lem
Speaker 2: Missus Honeywell wiped her eyes. Grandad nodded knowingly. Milo stood tall,
Speaker 2: proud that kindness mattered so much. The Queen lifted her hand,
Speaker 2: and snowflakes drifted upward instead of downwards, dancing like tiny stars.
Speaker 2: Soft glows spread across the village, no longer icy blue,
Speaker 2: but gold and white, like dawn touching frost. I will
Speaker 2: carry this warmth where cold hearts suffer, she said, And
Speaker 2: wherever I leave a trail of frost touched by light,
Speaker 2: you will know I brought your gift. Elsie stepped closer.
Speaker 2: Will we ever see you again? The queen smiled. When
Speaker 2: a place forgets warmth, winter comes looking, But as long
Speaker 2: as you share what you have shared tonight, I will
Speaker 2: not be needed here. Snow swirled around her like a
Speaker 2: tender embrace, lifting her slowly into the starry sky. She
Speaker 2: vanished in a shimmer that looked like thousands of flurries,
Speaker 2: softly exhaling. From that night onward, Frostleam never feared winter.
Speaker 2: When snow glittered unusually bright, or frost curled into elegant shapes,
Speaker 2: the townsfolk would say, there she is reminding someone else
Speaker 2: how to belong. Elsie kept the memory close, like a
Speaker 2: secret ornament. Milo helped his mother run the bakery with
Speaker 2: warmth in every recipe. Missus blythe opened her door more often.
Speaker 2: Mister Crumble became famous for his cinnamon accident stew, and
Speaker 2: the whole village learned that warmth is the one gift
Speaker 2: you cannot buy, horde or borrow, only share. Winter still
Speaker 2: came cold as ever, but it never felt lonely again,
Speaker 2: because when hearts learn how to warm each other, even
Speaker 2: snow glows from the inside. If you stood at the
Speaker 2: very edge of the river bank in the village of
Speaker 2: frost Leam and looked far beyond the fron and fields,
Speaker 2: you could almost see the shimmer of the snow Queen's palace,
Speaker 2: not a palace made of bricks or stone, but of
Speaker 2: swirling ice and glimmering frost, shaped by winter winds and moonlight.
Speaker 2: Everyone in Frostleam grew up hearing stories about her. Some
Speaker 2: said she ruled the winter skies. Some swore she could
Speaker 2: turn tears into snowflakes. Others insisted that she wandered the
Speaker 2: world each December looking for something, though no one ever
Speaker 2: agreed on what. Elsie Doolin, who was as curious as
Speaker 2: she was forgetful, liked the story about the snow Queen
Speaker 2: searching for something, not something precious or powerful, but something
Speaker 2: she couldn't make for herself. A queen with everything must
Speaker 2: be missing something, big, Elsie told her granddad one evening,
Speaker 2: as she helped him hang lanterns outside their cottage. They
Speaker 2: swung gently in the frosty air, sending glimmers of golden
Speaker 2: light down the snowy street. Grandad chuckled behind his thick
Speaker 2: white mustache, ay, that's how the story goes. They say
Speaker 2: she can shape ice into anything except one thing. What thing,
Speaker 2: Elsie asked eagerly. Grandad winked warmth, lass, real warmth, not
Speaker 2: the kind from a fire, the kind that only lives
Speaker 2: inside hearts. Elsie loved that idea, the most powerful being
Speaker 2: of winter searching for warmth. She imagined the snow queen
Speaker 2: with snow diamond earrings and a cloak made of clouds,
Speaker 2: wandering through icy mountains, looking sad because she didn't know
Speaker 2: how to make kindness or laughter or friendliness. Of course,
Speaker 2: plenty of grown ups said these stories were just nonsense,
Speaker 2: but the children of Frostleam had their suspicions, especially around
Speaker 2: Christmas time, for that was when the snow behaved strangely,
Speaker 2: swirling into shapes, glittering brighter than usual, and sometimes just
Speaker 2: for a moment, forming tall queenlike ripples on rooftops before
Speaker 2: collapsing back into ordinary drifts. The first snowfall of December
Speaker 2: arrived like a feather landing. It dusted the rooftops at dawn,
Speaker 2: thin and shimmering. Elsie rushed out of bed, tripped over
Speaker 2: her slippers twice, and pressed her face to the window.
Speaker 2: The snow was fresh and sparkling, like a million diamonds
Speaker 2: scattered across frost Leam. Grandad whistled low when he saw it.
Speaker 2: Not ordinary snow today, he muttered, looks like she's near.
Speaker 2: Elsie practically bounced, do you think Do you think she'll
Speaker 2: I'm here? Grandad shrugged. Only if there's something she needs,
Speaker 2: I suppose. Elsie spent the day wondering what the snow
Speaker 2: Queen could ever possibly need from a little village like Frostleam.
Speaker 2: They had their annual winter market, coming with strings of
Speaker 2: golden lights, warm stews, sugar nuts, fiddlers and flutes, sleigh rides,
Speaker 2: and the great snow Feast on Christmas Eve. Frostleam wasn't wealthy,
Speaker 2: fancy or important, but it was always merry. Maybe that
Speaker 2: was the secret. That afternoon, Elsie helped the baker, Missus Honeywell,
Speaker 2: by sweeping scattered flower while nibbling dough scraps. When she
Speaker 2: thought no one was looking. Missus Honeywell's son Milo was
Speaker 2: busy stirring a vat of cinnamon buttered apples. Milo was
Speaker 2: quiet and thoughtful, the kind of boy who could read
Speaker 2: emotions like a map. He caught her nibbling, but only
Speaker 2: handed her an apple slice dipped in sugar, pretending not
Speaker 2: to see the stolen bits. You think she's real, don't you,
Speaker 2: Milo asked quietly. The snow Queen. Elsie nodded at once.
Speaker 2: I think she's looking for something. I think she comes
Speaker 2: where people are happy. Milo stirred the pot slowly. My
Speaker 2: mum hasn't been happy in a long time, not since
Speaker 2: Dad passed away. Do you think the snow Queen cares
Speaker 2: about that sort of thing? Elsie's voice softened. She's a
Speaker 2: queen of winter, not sadness. But maybe she can see
Speaker 2: cold hearts the way others see cold hands. Milo looked
Speaker 2: out the frosted bakery window. Maybe she should stop here then. Later,
Speaker 2: Elsie helped mister Crumble restore old sleigh bells, visited her
Speaker 2: friend Ginny, who was knitting scarves for charity, and carried
Speaker 2: baskets of firewood for elderly missus Blythe who lived alone
Speaker 2: and had too many cats and two few visitors. Everywhere
Speaker 2: she went. She wondered if laughter, kindness, or generosity was
Speaker 2: the thing the Snow Queen longed for and couldn't create herself.
Speaker 2: By evening whispers were everywhere, children claiming they saw sparkles
Speaker 2: moving through the air, adults noticing sudden, beautiful frost patterns
Speaker 2: curling across windows like delicate lace. Some said they felt
Speaker 2: the air holding its breath. Just after sunset, a brilliant
Speaker 2: streak of icy light tore across the sky, a shooting
Speaker 2: star made of frost. It landed in the woods near
Speaker 2: Frostleam's edge, leaving a trail of frozen sparkles in the air.
Speaker 2: The entire village gasped. Some ran inside, others ran toward
Speaker 2: the glow. Elsie did the latter. She wrapped her coat tight,
Speaker 2: boots crunching in snow, and sprinted toward the river. Milo
Speaker 2: appeared beside her, panting cheeks, red, You're not going without me.
Speaker 2: The woods at night were dazzling, lit by moonlight, bouncing
Speaker 2: off snow. As they hurried onward, an icy wind rushed
Speaker 2: between the trees, but not angrily. It sounded almost like
Speaker 2: a whispered melody. And then they saw her. She stood
Speaker 2: in the clearing, not grand or towering, but tall, graceful
Speaker 2: and gleaming with winter itself. Her gown shimmered in silvers
Speaker 2: and pale blues, frost trailing behind like silk. Her hair
Speaker 2: was white as a snowstorm, yet looked soft, not cold.
Speaker 2: Her eyes were so clear and piercing, like icicles catching sunlight.
Speaker 2: A crown of snowflakes rested on her head, never melting,
Speaker 2: always shifting in delicate patterns. Elsie and Milo froze in awe.
Speaker 2: The snow Queen turned to them, studying them with a
Speaker 2: gaze that made Elsie feel both chilled and safe at
Speaker 2: the same time. I seek something, the queen said, her
Speaker 2: voice wind soft and bell bright. Something no frost can shape,
Speaker 2: no ice can forge. You children of frost leam carry
Speaker 2: warmth in ways even the sun cannot Milow swallowed warmth
Speaker 2: like hugs. The queen smiled gently, like what lies beneath them,
Speaker 2: warmth of spirit, warmth, that men's warmth that welcomes. Elsie
Speaker 2: stepped forward nervously. We have warmth everywhere. You can have
Speaker 2: as much as you want. The snow Queen's expression flickered
Speaker 2: with sadness. Warmth cannot be taken, It must be given.
Speaker 2: Then she looked around the village, lights twinkling in the distance.
Speaker 2: Will you help me learn so I may bring warmth
Speaker 2: where it is needed most. Elsie's heart soared. We can
Speaker 2: teach you, Milow hesitated, But warmth isn't a thing. It's
Speaker 2: just something you feel. No, Elsie said, it's something you share.
Speaker 2: The snow Queen's eyes glistened like thawing frost. Then let
Speaker 2: us share. They brought her into frost leam, not openly
Speaker 2: but quietly. She moved as snow moves, unnoticed if you
Speaker 2: weren't looking. She watched missus Honeywell smile when Milo helped
Speaker 2: stir the market pot despite her heavy sadness. She observed
Speaker 2: mister Crumble fixing sleigh bells for free because he liked
Speaker 2: hearing children giggle as they jingled. She saw Elsie deliver
Speaker 2: firewood to Missus Blythe who tried not to cry because
Speaker 2: kindness still startled her. Every act of warmth made the
Speaker 2: snow Queen's icy cloak shimmer as though melting, not in
Speaker 2: a destructive way, but like ice turning into morning dew.
Speaker 2: She did not fully understand, but she was learning. At
Speaker 2: the winter market, the Queen hid among snow and frost,
Speaker 2: nearly invisible, but she studied every moment. She watched neighbours
Speaker 2: share hot stew with a poor family, saw children hold
Speaker 2: hands skating on the frozen pond, heard old Missus Blythe's
Speaker 2: laughter when her cats chased falling snowflakes, and she listened
Speaker 2: to the villagers sing, not per thickly, but together. Warmth
Speaker 2: spread like sunlight through snow. Then came the snow Feast
Speaker 2: on Christmas Eve. Long tables lined the square, lanterns glowed, golden,
Speaker 2: musicians played fiddles, and everyone rich, poor, lonely, shy shared
Speaker 2: food and stories. Missus Honeywell laughed truly for the first
Speaker 2: time in years, surprising herself. Mister Crumble accidentally spilled cinnamon
Speaker 2: into stew, and instead of scolding him, people cheered. It
Speaker 2: tasted wonderful. Elsie's granddad told jokes so terrible that people
Speaker 2: laughed just to make them stop. And in the middle
Speaker 2: of the joy, frost began swirling in the air, not coldly, beautifully,
Speaker 2: and the snow queens stepped into sight. This time, no
Speaker 2: one screamed or ran. Children stared, adults stood. It's frozen
Speaker 2: in awe, yet not with fear. The queen spoke softly,
Speaker 2: her voice like a candle seen through ice. You have
Speaker 2: given me what I could not make alone warmth that
Speaker 2: lives inside, warmth that reaches out, the warmth that says
Speaker 2: you belong. A hush swept across frost Leam. Missus Honeywell
Speaker 2: wiped her eyes. Grandad nodded knowingly. Milo stood tall, proud
Speaker 2: that kindness mattered so much. The Queen lifted her hand,
Speaker 2: and snowflakes drifted upward instead of downwards, dancing like tiny stars.
Speaker 2: A soft glow spread across the village, no longer icy blue,
Speaker 2: but golden white, like dawn, touching frost. I will carry
Speaker 2: this warmth where cold hearts suffer, she said, And wherever
Speaker 2: I leave a trail of frost touched by light, you
Speaker 2: will know I brought your gift. Elsie stepped closer. Will
Speaker 2: we ever see you again? The queen smiled. When a
Speaker 2: place forgets warmth, winter comes looking, But as long as
Speaker 2: you share what you have shared tonight, I will not
Speaker 2: be needed here. Snow swirled around her like a tender embrace,
Speaker 2: lifting her slowly into the starry sky. She vanished in
Speaker 2: a shimmer that looked like thousands of flurries, softly exhaling.
Speaker 2: From that night onward, Frostleam never feared winter. When snow
Speaker 2: glittered unusually bright, or frost curled into elegant shapes. The
Speaker 2: townsfolk would say, there she is reminding someone else how
Speaker 2: to belong. Elsie kept the memory close like a secret ornament.
Speaker 2: Milo helped his mother run the bakery with warmth in
Speaker 2: every recipe. Missus Blythe opened her door more often. Mister
Speaker 2: Crumble became famous for his cinnamon accident stew, and the
Speaker 2: whole village learned that warmth is the one gift you
Speaker 2: cannot buy, hoard or borrow, only share. Winter still came
Speaker 2: cold as ever, but it never felt lonely again, because
Speaker 2: when hearts learn how to warm each other, even snow
Speaker 2: glows from the inside.
Speaker 3: St stop st super super b in spa