A/N: Just in time for Femslash February (and Valentine's Day!), here is a tiny fic based on one of my most underrated ships. Gerda and the Robber Girl (or Ritva as she is known here) from "The Snow Queen", are by far my favourite pair in fairytales, but sadly their relationship has not been explored very much (with some exceptions). This fic is specifically based around the one adaptation of the story that does (re)examine their relationship, Eileen Kernaghan's novella that was originally released in 2000 (which you all should go and read!), and coincidentally one of my favourite versions of "The Snow Queen". This story spoils the ending of the novella, but if you are familiar withe the general story this should not be too much of a problem. Enjoy!
"Come soon, dear friend. While the roads to the north are clear. I will be waiting."
As the first snowflakes fell, Ritva recalled the promise she made to her beloved Gerda.
After everything the women did to save Kai from the Snow Queen, it became clear that the path they had traveled together had ended. With their shared task completed, there was no need for Gerda to remain near the far North. Her little rabbit was feeling weary from their long journey, and longed for her familiar rose garden in Copenhagen. Dissimilarity, Ritva was more than happy to stay, as she was anxious to learn from the old woman who writes on codfish, and the old woman who binds the winds. And so, with a heavy heart, the Saami woman knew it was time to say goodbye to the young woman she had grown to love over the course of their long, harsh journey.
Time passed quickly in her months of training. The old women, and Ba her trusty old reindeer, were the only company she kept in the waking world, while her connections with the spirits grew. She was glad to have met such fine teachers; she had never felt inspired her to better herself as a shaman before meeting these women. The only other person who had motivated her before had been Gerda, who was so far away, but her influence still persevered in Ritva's heart. After all, if she had never met Gerda and followed her on her nigh impossible task of finding and defeating the Snow Queen, she would have probably remained in her father's halls, never aware of her full potential and never stirred to face her destiny. The old Finnmark woman would occasionally tease Ritva in their training asking, with knowing eyes, how the 'little rabbit' was fairing.
As she reflected on their time together the more Ritva had realized that Gerda was indeed similar to the white rabbits that resided in the North. They did not face to world with sharp teeth or strong claws to defend themselves, and while they were not disadvantaged by the cold it was clear that the reindeer and walrus were better suited for the harshest of winters. Still, the rabbit persisted, the rabbit observed their surroundings, and the rabbit adapted to the daily challenges of life. Gerda was much the same. While Ritva's mind was still reeling from the vastness of the ocean, Gerda was the one who took the first steps forward, seemingly unafraid by the unknowns before her. She had gotten them onto a vast ship using only her wits and kind words. And despite the imposing task that laid before her, Gerda was triumphant in her self-imposed quest.
And so, with her training complete, Ritva had decided it was time to fulfill her promise, and began the long journey South to see her beloved. She knew that the journey would be long, but she was still surprised at the length of time it had taken before she even came remotely close to Denmark.
Thankfully winter came late this year, meaning that the roads she travelled were still clear. But with each passing day Ritva had feared she would not be able to reach her goal as promised. Still, if she could go to the ends of the world to face one of the most powerful foes with only her beloved and her old reindeer Ba, she could certainly find this Copenhagen.
And so, when the first snowflakes of the season brushed her cheeks, she was reminded of the sensation of Gerda's wind-worn face against her own, and the promise shared between them. With renewed determination the Saami woman continued onwards, old Ba following alongside her, as he always did.
After walking for several hours more, it was clear that Ritva was running out of daylight to guide her. She had traversed through more dangerous locations than the quaint country road she was walking on, but her instincts, honed by living all her life amongst robbers, reminded her never to trust an unfamiliar path. Also, it was clear that old Ba had growing exhausted from their day long-trek, and while she would not admit it aloud she did not wish to see her oldest friend suffer. With this in mind, Ritva began to set out her evening routine of setting up a temporary camp, while there was still enough sunlight to spare.
Ba was quite pleased with this and settled down onto the ground with a satisfied groan. Ritva snorted at her reindeer's theatrics and rubbed him behind his ears, before extracting the tent from her pack. She briefly considered what song she should sing, to pass the time as she completed her task, when she heard a faint snap down the road.
At once, Ritva instinctively reached for her trusty knife and turned to face her potential threat, but became still at the sight before her.
It was her princess. Her little rabbit. Her Gerda.
Perhaps, if Ritva had been a much different person, she would have asked why Gerda had not waited. This was mostly because many people falsely assume that the best thing a lady can do in matters of the heart is to wait. But Ritva knew Gerda, knew the power she possessed within her, and the strength of her spirit. Gerda had faced the Snow Queen, and won, faced the harshest of winters with only her determination, open heart, and strength of will at her disposal. Life in Copenhagen, with a man who did not appreciate the risks she took, and only the poetry and roses to please her, would not have been a fitting life for Gerda at all.
And so nothing was said aloud between the two women. Instead they embraced each other, as they did on that cold day long ago. But where that embrace was loose in their sad parting, this was a tight and unyielding hold.
"My dearest friend, I knew you would come. My Ritva."