Baby Kristoff’s first troll birthday. And our headcanons were right, he doesn’t know his own birthday. But the trolls decide to pick a day and throw him his very first surprise party ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ this is fine I’m fine
Kristoff and Anna are huddled
close in their covered wagon. Anna has the biggest grin on her face as she
gazes out at the magnificent vastness of the golden prairie, a whole world of untamable
adventure. Seeing the flash of Anna’s smile, Kristoff smiles in turn. His smile
is soft and warm, gentle as the fall of the scattered tufts of a dandelion.
They take strength from each
other. They find passion for the future in each other. Together, they can take
on crashing rivers and wilderness. They can take on anything together.
Picture them settling down in
some green place where all is fair and still. After traveling so long, it is
like sweet heaven. When Kristoff says simply, “Let’s stay here,” his words are
plain and true, rich as the earth he plans to farm. Anna springs into his arms,
Picture Kristoff, golden hair
wild, hewing trees to make a cabin for the two of them. Anna fetches him water
from the nearby brook, fresh blue water that is sweet to Kristoff’s lips.
But Anna knows one thing Kristoff
would find sweeter. And after he drinks, she kisses him delicately. When Kristoff
resumes his work, his energy is more than renewed… by the power of this soft
Picture Anna adding homey touches
to the rough cabin, ever optimistic. This is their haven, their home, after
Picture them snuggling under
thick quilts in the evening. Even when rain roars on the rooftop, it matters
little to them. They are as one, bound tighter than tight.
Picture a town flourishing around
them in time. Picture Anna trying on bonnets at the general store and Kristoff
basking in her radiance. Anna is innocently coquettish and adorable.
Picture those times when Anna is
sick and feverish in bed. No one knows if she will pull through. But Kristoff
is by her bedside always, squeezing her hand. And Anna is strong as the
Picture them in old age, their
hair silver. They rest in rocking-chairs, the fire crackling away…