A/N: Well I just saw Frozen yesterday, and as I was looking through some fan art for it, I decided that I needed to write a fanfic. So here we go. This takes place before the movie, so Kristoff is still an adorable little kid, but he hasn't been adopted by trolls yet. And most people who know my writing style and notice the title will realize that something bad's gonna happen. It always does when I'm the one writing. So... enough of me blabbering away, here's the story.

Thin Ice

Kristoff never understood why the men always told him harvesting ice was so dangerous. He thought they were just trying to scare him.

He had to learn the hard way why it was so dangerous.

When he woke up that morning, he noticed that the weather was a lot colder. The day before, it had been sunny and so warm that he didn't need to wear his jacket.

Shivering, he put on his hat, jacket, gloves, and boots. Sven, who he had been using as a pillow, woke up when he heard Kristoff moving around. He jumped up and nudged Kristoff, hungry for breakfast.

"Just a minute, Sven," said Kristoff, reaching into his bag and giving the young reindeer a carrot. "Share." Sven bit off half of it, leaving the rest for Kristoff. Most of the time, it was all either of them got for breakfast.

Kristoff pushed the door to the stables open and led Sven out. The inn keeper had told him he was too young to stay in a room, but the night had been warm, so she had let him sleep in the stables with the horses.

The morning was bright and cold. The other men were over by the carts. They would be going back out on the ice today.

Kristoff and Sven ran over to the cart. Kristoff climbed inside – he didn't need any help this time because he wasn't tired – and one of the men who had been loading the cart picked up Sven and set him down next to Kristoff.

Because Kristoff was busy adjusting Sven's tiny harness, he didn't hear what the men were saying.

"Should we let the kid come today?" asked one of them. "The weather has certainly made the ice brittle. It might be too dangerous."

"If we didn't bring him with us, where would we leave him? He has no family or home to go back to," said another man. He glanced over at Kristoff and sighed a bit. He had been good friends with Kristoff's father before the accident that had taken his life.

They decided to take Kristoff with them, but they would have to keep a close eye on him and make sure he stayed away from any thin ice.

A while later, they were on the road. Kristoff sat between two of the larger men, dwarfed by their size, and Sven sat at his feet.

When they reached the lake, the sun was high and the wind was blowing fiercely. Kristoff's hat nearly blew off.

The other men could see that the ice was much thinner than usual, so they wouldn't be able to take the cart out. They could see that the ice was the safest near the center of the lake, so they decided that would be where they would harvest it from.

They walked out onto the lake in single file. Kristoff walked near the back of the group, and because Sven was still small enough, he was allowed to come too.

They spent all day harvesting the ice. Every time they heard a large crack, they would all freeze – all of them except Kristoff, who was still struggling to pick up the small block of ice he had cut.

Finally, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the lanterns were lit.

One of the men shouted to call the day to an end. The men began taking the ice to the carts at the edge of the lake.

That was when Kristoff was finally able to get a good grip on his ice. He pulled it out of the water and lifted it over his head. However, it was heavier than he expected it to be, so he stumbled backwards quite a way before falling on his back. The chunk of ice he had been holding smashed into the frozen lake.

Kristoff sat up, disappointed that his hard work had been in vain.

Then he heard the cracking noise.

Slowly looking over his shoulder, in the dim light he could see that his ice had broken the frozen surface of the lake. The cracks spread quickly, spider-webbing out and surrounding him.

Too scared to move, he looked around. Sven was still over by the open water, not wanting to come any closer and break the ice. The other men were too far away for him to shout to. They were busy loading the ice, and it was dark without the lantern light.

Slowly, Kristoff shifted a bit. The ice cracked under him. He froze until the ice settled again before slowly getting his knees and feet under him. The ice let out another loud crack.

He could see that some of the men were starting to come back to gather their tools. Maybe one of them had noticed he wasn't with them.

The ice was silent.

Slowly, he stood up.

The ice shifted and cracked so loud that it scared him, making him stumble back.

One of the men shouted and started running towards him.

Then the ice beneath his feet cracked and split open, and with a sharp yelp, Kristoff felling into the freezing cold pitch black water.

The cold was so intense that it knocked the air from his lungs. He couldn't move his limbs. The water burned his eyes so badly that he had to close them.

His lungs began to burn, but he couldn't move. He couldn't swim back to the surface.

He felt himself start to lose consciousness.

In the distance, he heard a splashing noise. Was there someone in the water with him?

He felt something pulling at the back of his jacket. Something kicked his back as it tried to pull him out of the water.

Sven. He had jumped in to try and save him.

Please don't let Sven drown... was the last thought that went through Kristoff's mind before he fully lost consciousness.

He started sinking further, and though Sven tried with all his might, he couldn't pull Kristoff to the surface.

Suddenly, a large gloved hand burst through the water, grabbing Sven and Kristoff at the same time. The hand pulled them both out of the water and onto the ice.

One of the men – the one that had been friends with Kristoff's father – had pulled them out.

Sven jumped up and shook himself off, not bothered by the cold and the water. He was built for it. Kristoff, however, wasn't.

The poor boy convulsively coughed up the water he had swallowed. He was deathly pale, soaking wet, and shaking violently. His lips and hands were blue, and the water on his hair and clothes was starting to freeze.

"We need to get him warm, or he'll die," said the man who had pulled them out, speaking to one of the other men who had followed him. He held Kristoff tightly in his arms and wrapped him up in his cloak to hopefully keep him warm. He ran across the ice back to the carts and the other men. Sven clumsily ran after them.

Holding Kristoff close to his chest with one hand, he unhooked one of their fastest horses with the other hand. Sven was running around his feet, panicking at seeing Kristoff look so close to death. One of the other men picked him up to keep him from interfering.

"Follow as fast as you can," the man said to his friends as he pulled himself up onto the horse. Then he grabbed the reins and kicked the horse, spurring it into a gallop.

They headed for the closest village, which was an hour away. But with a fast horse, it would only take fifteen minutes.

Kristoff was still freezing cold, and the whipping wind didn't help.

The man urged the horse to go faster. He held Kristoff closer to try and keep him as warm as possible.

A few minutes later, Kristoff stopped shivering.

The man noticed this. It was a bad sign. He was getting worse.

They were still ten minutes away from the village.

With his free hand, the man rubbed Kristoff's back to try and bring some warmth back into the child. He started to shiver again, coming back from the brink of severe hypothermia.

They were now five minutes away from the village. Kristoff stopped shivering again. The water on his clothes, hair, and skin had frozen into ice. He tried to bring him back again, but Kristoff was too far gone.

Snow started to fall and the wind was blowing even harder.

Just when the lights of the village appeared through the trees, Kristoff shuddered and stopped breathing.

"No, Kristoff, hold on a little bit longer!" he exclaimed, looking down at the unresponsive child. "Please, breathe!"

He only stopped the horse when he arrived in the center of the village. He quickly dismounted, holding the dying child in his arms.

Grabbing the closest person to him, he frantically asked them where the healers were. They immediately directed him to a large building just off the village center.

He burst through the door, and in the light, Kristoff looked much worse.

The healers took the child immediately and brought him into the back room, where they began to warm him up. One of them poured something into his mouth, and as soon as he swallowed it, he immediately started coughing and gasping for breath.

The man stood back. The last time something like this had happened, it had happened to Kristoff's father. He had died before they even pulled him out of the ice. He hadn't had someone to keep him from sinking. Kristoff was lucky that Sven had been there.

One of the healers came over to him and asked him what had happened.

"He fell through the ice," said the man simply. "He was only in the water for a few seconds."

The healer nodded. "If he makes it through the night, he'll be okay."

"Thank you," said the man.

A few minutes later, they moved Kristoff into a smaller room with its own fireplace. The room was warm, and Kristoff was bundled in blankets. He was still pale, and he was struggling to breathe, but at least he was breathing.

It was a long night. Several times, Kristoff nearly stopped breathing, but then he would cough and keep breathing. One of the healers explained that he had inhaled some of the cold water, and it had damaged his lungs.

Halfway through the night, the other men arrived in the village. One of them came in and offered to watch after the kid, but he declined the offer.

He had promised Kristoff's father that he would watch out for the boy. He was his godfather, after all.

Outside, the snow came down harder.

When Kristoff woke up, he felt exhausted and confused. His chest hurt and his hands and feet were numb. Wherever he was, it was warm and comfortable, even though it was a bit hard for him to move.

Slowly blinking his eyes open and looking around, he saw that he was bundled up in a mountain of blankets, and he was in a small room with a warm fire blazing on the opposite side of the room from the bed. He could see most of his clothes by the fire, drying.

That was when he noticed one of the men sitting in a chair by his bed. It was the one that had been good friends with his father. He was too tired and dizzy to remember the man's name, and when he tried to say something to him, he started coughing. His throat and chest hurt even worse now.

"Take it easy, kid," said the man, putting his hand behind Kristoff's shoulder and helping him sit upright. The man handed him a cup of water, which he quickly drank. The lukewarm water soothed his throat and made it easier for him to talk.

"W-what happened?" asked Kristoff, coughing a bit.

"You fell through the ice," said the man. "I pulled you out and brought you here, and the healers saved you."

"Oh," said Kristoff, looking down at his hands. They were red and raw, and his fingers were a bit swollen from the cold. "Thank you," he said.

The man smiled tiredly. "You should thank your reindeer. He was the one who kept you close enough to the surface for me to grab you and pull you out."

Kristoff's eyes widened. "Sven? Is he okay?"

The man nodded. "The healers wouldn't let him come in, but he's here."

Kristoff smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. However, the sigh turned into a coughing fit that lasted for a few minutes. By the time it ended, he was doubled over and clutching his chest.

"Don't worry, that'll stop soon," said the man, rubbing Kristoff's back as he tried to catch his breath.

"S-so I'm gonna be okay?" asked Kristoff slowly, sitting upright again.

The man smiled. "You're going to be okay."

Three days later, Kristoff walked out into the cold air. He coughed a bit, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the past few days.

As soon as he was outside, Sven came bounding out of nowhere and jumped on him, happily nuzzling him. Kristoff laughed and wrapped his arms around Sven's neck, happy to see him after being separated, even if it was only for a few days.

"Thanks for saving me, buddy," Kristoff whispered to Sven, who simply snorted and nudged him a bit.

Kristoff glanced over his shoulder and saw that the man was talking to the others. He slipped a carrot out of his pocket and gave it to Sven.

"You can have the whole thing," said Kristoff. "I'm not hungry."

Sven graciously accepted the carrot.

Suddenly, Kristoff heard someone calling him. He looked over and saw that the man was waving him over.

Running over with Sven as support, Kristoff came to a stop by the cart where the man was standing.

"What's going on?" asked Kristoff.

The man picked him and Sven up and put them in the cart next to the ice. He gave Kristoff a blanket to ward off a relapse of the hypothermia.

"We," said the man, "are going to Arendelle."

Kristoff gasped and turned to Sven. "We get to go back to the kingdom!" he exclaimed in an excited whisper. It had been so long since he had last been there.

The carts started moving. Kristoff bounced happily in his seat. Sven sat by his side, keeping him warm.

They were ready for another adventure.

A/N: So there we go! I know Kristoff kinda pulled a Jack Frost there falling through the ice, but at least he lived. Oh, and that man remained unnamed because I couldn't think of one. :D

So what did you guys think? If I come up with one, I'll definitely be writing another story. So leave a review, if it's not too much trouble to ask. See ya next story.