Hello there, and this my second story.

Anyway, I own nothing but Aramir, his sword Anorthil, the kingdom of Arëador, and any events that take place after Frozen is over.

Aramir's theme song is Blackblade by Two Steps From Hell


The lone man walked down the road, hood up, longsword at his side, and his mood sour. He'd lost his horse to some highwayman a while back, but he had no trouble in the ensuing fight. They'd run as soon as they had realized that the traveler clad in brown and red was more than your average mercenary. He was known by many as one the best swordsman in in the known world, some went so far as to say he was the best. He was among a small sect of warriors known as the Silver Falcons. The order of skilled warriors was divided into three groups, Trueblades, he was one of those, Sheeraxes, and Swiftlances. There were only a handful of them, but they all were near unstoppable with the weapon they had chosen in their hands. He also happened to be the sixth in line for the throne of Arëador. That meant he often was the one sent to go to things like coronation and such-and-such. It was not only of political benefit that Aramir was so charismatic, but it was also cost-effective due to the fact that as a Trueblade he didn't need an escort. That was in fact why he was here, to attend a coronation, that of Crown Princess... damn, what was her name? He took out the papers with his identification on them. Prince Aramir of Arëador... King Arahad and Queen Diane send their regards to... there it was. Her name was Elsa.


Aramir never enjoyed the actual coronation part of these things. It was basically lots of Latin, followed by the soon-to-be ruler holding up some stuff and then having a crown or diadem or tiara or something(The "crown" of Arëador was a leather headband with patterns woven in with gold thread.), stuck on their head. Then, the part he didn't find agonizingly boring, the celebrations, happened. That was what happened here as well, with Aramir mingling while the dance went on. He wandered over to the food, selected a small piece of dark chocolate- he found the lighter stuff too sweet- and let it melt in his mouth slowly. "So you like chocolate too?" A cheery voice, female, young, asked from just out of his field of view. He turned to find a woman approximately three years younger than him, with strawberry blonde hair, standing there. "Somewhat so, Princess Anna. Yes, I can tell who you are. You have the look of royalty, and you dress in local fashion. There is also an air of... cheerfulness and spirit about you." Aramir said. "Well, that was kinda impressive how you just sort of read me like that. So, who are you?" She asked. He put his arms out to his sides, and bowed while saying "Prince Aramir of Arëador, at your service." Anna wracked her brains for the proper reply to the traditional Arëadoran greeting, and finally found it. "At yours and your familiy's. Honestly, in those clothes you don't look much like a prince. I'm sorry, I have to go!" Anna said, and headed off with a man with red hair and sideburns, in white clothing with gold trim. So is that what young love is like? Aramir briefly thought, before heading to the dance. How he would relish the chance to dance with the beautiful Elsa. She even looked only about a year younger than himself. He saw a golden opportunity when the new queen turned down an offer of a dance from the Duke of Weselton. Hurrying to her, he bowed. "May I have this dance, Your Majesty?" He asked. He was very disappointed when she gave the slight shake of her head that was supposed to mean 'I am sorry, but no.', though to Aramir, it felt like he would if she had said 'Get lost, creep!' to his face.

A few minutes of sulking in the corner with a mug of ale later, Aramir got back up and headed over to the far end of the hall. When he reached the scene, he found Anna and the fellow from earlier with Elsa. Based on what he was hearing, Anna had only met the guy today, and wanted Elsa's blessing to marry. Elsa, like any sensible big sister, was of course refusing. Anna, in turn, we getting very upset. Soon, she yanked off one of Elsa's gloves, and Elsa herself was struggling with her own emotions. Eventually raised voices came to yelling, and yelling led to shouting. By now, they were almost screaming, with everyone's eyes upon them. "Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?!" Demanded Anna. "I said ENOUGH!" Shouted Elsa, who waved her arm and turned. To even Aramir's suprise- he'd seen some pretty weird stuff in his travels- a pillar of ice appeared out of nowhere and came inches from hitting the Duke. He tentatively tapped it, almost like he was afraid his finger would fall off. "Sorcery..." He said. Elsa ran, and he and his guards went after her. Aramir moved into their path. "Move out of the way, prince! We must kill that monster!" He shouted. In a movement so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it, Anorthil was in Aramir's hand, and the tip at the man's throat. The blade was made of pure silver, forged with secret techniques of the Falcons to make it stronger than the best steel. The crossguard and fishtail shaped pommel were tempered bronze with a half bare half wired black polished wood hilt. He saw many emotions in the Duke's eyes, fear for his life, anger at having a sword drawn on him, and suprise at Aramir's actions. "Listen closely, you fucking bastard, you will not refer to her as a monster again. She's a woman. If you call her that again, I will hunt you down and cut your throat." Aramir said with ice in his voice. "You won't hurt me! Arëador and Weselton have a peace treaty!" He said. "In all honesty, I'm more Silver Falcon, less Prince of Arëador." Aramir said. He kicked the Duke in the groin and sped off after Elsa.


The climb up the mountain wasn't particularly difficult for Aramir, he had experience with this, and his clothing was well suited for it as well. He was probably catching up with Elsa, as she wouldn't have experience with mountain climbing, and dresses weren't exactly made for this sort of thing. Eventually he reached a somewhat flat area, and heard... singing? He went a bit her and spied Elsa.

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight

Not a footprint to be seen.
A kingdom of isolation,
and it looks like I'm the Queen
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in;
Heaven knows I've tried

Don't let them in,
don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel,
don't let them know
Well now they know

Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore

Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don't care
what they're going to say
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway

It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all

It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me,
I'm free!

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You'll never see me cry
Here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back, the past is in the past

Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on

The cold never bothered me anyway!

That was what she sang while building a palace of ice using her strange powers. When it was over, Aramir approached the door and gave a knock. "Hello! Can I come in?" He shouted. No answer. "If you don't answer I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN!" He bellowed. Again, nothing. "You asked for it! You have five seconds before I knock down this-" He was cut off by the door opening. Elsa stood there in a dress presumably made of ice. Aramir took a quick glance at the dress style. "You know, some people will think the leg slit on that dress makes you look like a harlot," Elsa reddened with embarrassment and sealed the slit with a wave of her hand "But on the whole it looks good. I like the braid as well. I think that your hair color is complemented by your roots." He finished, completely serious. "But, you can't be here just to complement my fashion sense. Why did you come to my little kingdom up here?" Elsa asked. "I kept the Duke of Weselton from giving chase to you. You owe me." Aramir said. He then entered without another word. He looked over his shoulder at her, and saw the distressed look on her face. "Let me put it this way, I'll keep you safe from any witch hunts or anything that comes after you, if you let me stay here for as long as I need to. Do we have a deal?" He asked, holding out his hand to her. A few painfully awkward moments of silence passed, but then she shook his outstretched hand. "I my seem foolish for asking this, but who are you?" She asked. "Prince Aramir of Arëador, at your service." He said, bowing. "Your a prince? But, won't Weselton consider your actions an act of war?" Elsa asked. "Probably not, anybody who's heard of me knows that I'm three parts dashing rouge and one part prince who's parents usually only send because they just need a representative to go to event A or a person capable of being polite enough to manage a simple diplomatic function at place B. It's a nice place you got here! Did you do it yourself? Wait, don't answer, of course you did." He said. "Thank you." Elsa said, then added under her breath, "I think." She spoke again at normal volume. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with the food issue." She said. "What? Oh, yes, I have a few packs of Silver Falcon rations. Never go anywhere without them. Do you want salted pork or dried beef? Or perhaps waybread?" He asked. Elsa considered for a moment. "Salted pork, please." She said.

The two ate the simple meal at an ice table. "If you aren't going to explain on your own, then I'll ask. What the Hell?" Aramir asked. "The magic, you mean? Well it all started when I was born..." She then went on for a half hour about the unknown origins of her gift- curse depending on how one looked at it- the fateful night thirteen years ago, the advice of the Trolls, and the ensuing years of isolation. Aramir of course knew the events of the coronation, so no need to repeat them. "Only one part of the whole story I don't get. Why your parents thought shutting you away for thirteen years was a good idea. How did he change that much?" He asked rhetorically. "I knew your father." Aramir said. "What?!" Elsa gasped. "Only for about a month. You're the only one other than me who knows it was actually Agdar. Everyone else involved just called him Bootstrap. It began seven years ago, when I was a strapping young lad of sixteen..." Elsa settled in. This, she thought, was bound to be a longer story than hers, even though the time span was far shorter.