The breaking wave curled like a closing maw as it approached the shadowy shore. The white foam, the spittle-dripping fangs of the sea, glistened against the darkness. And behind the monster that crashed against the strand, another one lined up to take its place, just as the rows of teeth of a shark advanced forward to ensure that the predator stayed well fed.
She stared grimly at her enemy, an opponent that knew no master, that knew no fear, that knew no mercy. Her parents, the King and Queen of Arendelle, were somewhere out in the storm. Still afloat in a pathetically overmatched ship ... but not for long. One of these waves would claim their lives, along with the rest of the ship's company.
Unless she did something about it. Unless she harnessed the storm within to vie against this storm without.
How she had come by this opportunity, she did not know. Whether they were near by or far away, she did not know. How much time remained, she did not know. She did know that this was her chance to save their lives, to show them what her magic was really capable of, to re-imagine the story.
She took off her jacket and shoes, and tied her hair back. She knew her mother and father wouldn't approve of her unladylike leggings -as they hadn't approved of her unladylike special powers- but a flowing dress was not conducive for this kind of action sequence. She dug a bare foot into the sand. She had to reach her full sprinting speed before she faced the first crashing wave.
And then she charged the raging surf, each footfall freezing a patch of water to push off against. She was quick; she had trained from childhood for the day when she might have to flee Arendelle for her own safety - or for the safety of others. Any other woman and all but the very fastest men would have been rapidly outdistanced.
This was no human she was racing, however. This was a moving hill of water that towered over her head. She did not reach the crest before the liquid summit curled over and plunged downward and surged forward weight of the water pounded her into the beach, and the force of the wave dragged her back to the starting block.
She gasped and coughed as the water receded, and instinctively clambered out of the next wave's range to gather herself. Any other human would be shivering from the frigid water. Any other human would have needed hours to recover from the battering she had just sustained. Most other humans would give up, knowing that even if the initial wave was conquered, there were myriad others to follow.
But she was not about to give up on her parents as easily as they gave up on her. As easily as they let her shut herself away from the world. As easily as they agreed to her request not to touch her. She had to save them, if only to forgive them.
So she steeled herself for the next assault and planned a different angle of attack. "Okay," she resolved.
She charged again, gaining extra speed with a few sliding strides. This time, she did not attempt to climb to the peak before the wave broke. She gulped a reserve of air and dove into the wave, like a sea bird or seal. She breached the other side and was immediately up and running again on the heaving surface of the ocean.
Ahead of her, she saw a sea stack and rushed toward it. After climbing the weathered rock as easily as a spider or other night-crawling insect or beast of the trees, she teetered on the narrow, slick pinnacle. She lost her balance, but automatically conjured a slide of ice to ease and direct her fall and facilitate her return to running on the water.
The next adversary loomed, a soaring wave that was too large to dive through. In desperation, she blasted it with magic, creating a ramp of thick ice. She rushed up the steep incline and very nearly attained the top, but the energy of the wave shattered the ice into huge blocks. Surrounded by the massive slabs of ice, she plummeted into the churning water below.
She awoke with a ragged breath, kicking and thrashing as though trying to resurface. It had been just a dream, a product of her mind. Her parents were dead, and would always remain so. There hadn't been a chance to alter history, to be a daughter and a princess again.
She looked around her bedroom and saw that she had frosted over her coverlet. She waved her hand and annihilated it. A moonbeam illuminated the dial of the clock. Ten minutes until five.
She might as well get up. She had busy day ahead of her as Queen of Arendelle.
Author's Notes - Wow, I can write something under 10K words! I am so proud of me! At any rate, this is my take on what we see in the teaser trailer. Some of the ideas here will show up in "Force of Nature" (among them: Elsa training to run for her life and how readily her parents gave in when she reached the "don't touch me" stage).
Shout-outs to some of the Marvel crew, because Elsa sure does climb only slightly worse than Spiderman, Nightcrawler, and Beast. If this does turn out to be "reality" in "Frozen II," I expect Kristoff to watch Elsa's rock climbing skills and say "I might cry."
And I had to get a little meta with the leggings. If they're gonna subject Elsa's character rig to "March of the Penguins" level of abuse, they have to ditch the dress and long cape. Because we'd end up with an up-skirt on par with now-deleted naughty freeze-frame of Jessica Rabbit. And because the computers would just choke on it. I'm sure Elsa's wet hair was demanding enough. Adding swaths of fabric would make the animators and modelers weep.