King Frost
Russian Folk Tale
For More Great Stories Check Out Our Exclusive Digital Download!
Enhance your storytelling experience with our printable digital bundle—featuring the full story, a Storyteller’s Guide, and fun activity sheets for kids to enjoy while they listen!
Tales Worth Telling Your Kids - Story & Activity Bundle
Retold by The Legendary Connection
TLC#00031
Once upon a time, in a faraway land where winters were long and snow blanketed the earth like a soft white quilt, there lived a kind and gentle boy. He was the son of a poor man who had remarried a woman with a heart as cold as the frost itself. The stepmother disliked the boy and favored her own son instead, who was selfish and lazy.
The kind boy was made to do all the work, sweeping, cooking, and chopping wood from dawn to dusk, while his stepbrother idly lounged by the fire, never lifting a finger. No matter how hard the boy worked, his stepmother never praised him and only found new tasks to burden him with.
One bitter winter’s day, the cruel stepmother devised a heartless plan. “Your hands are idle,” she sneered at the boy, “and there is work to be done. Go into the forest and see if you can chop wood there.”
The boy knew better than to argue, so he wrapped himself in a thin coat, which was all he owned, and trudged into the frozen woods, carrying his small axe. The trees stood tall and silent, their branches heavy with icicles. The wind howled, and the snow crunched under his feet, but he did not complain.
He went deeper into the woods until he reached a clearing where the air sparkled like tiny stars. There, he met an old man dressed in a cloak of pure ice. His beard was long and white, his breath turned to frost as he spoke, and his blue eyes gleamed like frozen lakes.
“Who are you, child?” he asked, his voice crisp as the winter air.
“I am but a poor boy sent to work in the cold,” he replied, bowing his head.
“Are you not afraid of me? I am King Frost, ruler of the winter winds,” he said, watching him closely.
He shivered but answered kindly, “You seem grand and wise, Your Majesty. Why should I fear you if I treat you with respect?”
King Frost nodded approvingly. “You are polite and gentle. Let me test your heart.”
With that, he blew a gust of freezing wind around him, sharp as needles. The boy trembled but did not cry out. Instead, he clasped his hands together and whispered, “The winter is cold, but kindness warms the heart.”
King Frost smiled. “You have endured much. Now, let me reward you.”
He lifted his icy staff, and suddenly, the boy’s thin coat turned into a thick, warm cloak woven with silver. Jewels sparkled at his feet, and his wood basket, which had been empty, overflowed with gold coins. “Go home, dear child, and live happily,” he said warmly.
When he returned home, his stepmother and stepbrother were stunned. “Where did you get such riches?” the stepmother demanded.
The boy humbly told them of King Frost’s kindness. At once, greed flickered in the stepmother’s eyes. She turned to her own son. “You must go at once and find this King Frost. If that foolish boy earned such wealth, imagine what you shall receive!”
So the selfish boy, wrapped in the finest furs, stomped into the forest, his nose wrinkled at the cold. Before long, he, too, met King Frost in the clearing.
“Who are you, child?” he asked.
“I am a fine gentleman; far too important to be speaking to an old man like you,” he scoffed.
King Frost’s eyes glinted, but he said nothing. Instead, he waved his hand, and the wind grew colder, biting at the boy’s face.
“What is this?” he shrieked. “Make it stop at once! I am here for my treasures!”
But King Frost simply blew another icy gust. The selfish boy’s hands turned numb, and he stamped his feet in frustration. “You wretched old man! Where are my riches?” he cried.
King Frost sighed. “You have no warmth in your heart, and so the cold will claim you.” With that, he summoned a bitter storm, covering him in frost and ice. When he did not return home, his mother went searching and found him frozen stiff in the snow.
The kind boy, however, lived happily and comfortably for the rest of his days, always remembering that a warm heart is worth more than all the gold in the world.
Carrick, Valery. More Russian Picture Tales. 1914. New York, Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1920.