PROLOGUE

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A long time ago, high up in the Scandinavian mountains, a tribe of brave and strong mountain men roamed the glacial landscapes over the frozen rivers and mountain ranges.

If you were ever to ask these men what they did for a living, one of the stout and rosier ones would have blared out,

"We break the frozen heart!"

If you stood confused, he'd give you a stare you would seldom want to challenge. Then his red face, only becoming rosier, but this time with a smile, would have told you that they harvest ice and sell it for a living.

Yes, that is what these traveling ice harvesters called the deep ice over the rivers—

'The Frozen Heart'.

Perhaps it was the warm leather clothing on their body, insulated with fur, that kept their hearts warm and welcoming. Among these humongous and warm-hearted men lived a little, icicle-breaking boy called Kristoff and his tiny but ferociously loyal companion: a reindeer named Sven.

Kristoff tried hard to pick up a block of ice with his small ice tongs, but all in vain. On the other hand, the ice harvesters cut the ice into long strips and then into blocks and picked up several enormous pieces. The harvest was then loaded and tied up on sleds, pulled by big, muscular reindeer—an extraordinary bond connected the reindeer and these men.

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