4. Sulphur.

The crevice was dark, dank and musty. Fingertips hesitantly reaching out for the walls, Elsa felt moss, lichen, slime... Her magic coated it in fleeting frost as she reacted to the unpleasant sensation. She could sense the warmth of the rocks underneath. She hadn't thought any part of the North Mountain had been spared her winter, but this place certainly seemed untouched.

Merida's boots, no longer crunching on top of snow, thudded with an ominous echo with every step. Every now and then, there'd be a splash. The bearskin-wearing princess of Dunbroch skulked forward, her bow at the ready as she led them around a bend. She moved with the ease of a warrior, the caution of a hunter. Once or twice, a ray of moonlight filtered down from above as she turned her head to check on Elsa's progress. The grey seeming eyes fixing her made the blond shiver, but follow none the less.

Where else was she to go?

"You... You want to close your nose," Elsa's guide said, hesitantly, choking the words out.

Within two steps, Elsa realized why. A strong smell, acrid and rotten assaulted her nostrils. It was nothing like the pleasantness of the earlier campfire, and Elsa clasped a hand over her face as she tried not to gag. Where on earth were they going? It was certainly clear now why Merida had expressed reluctance upon having to take this path.

Unease settled over the snow queen, causing her stomach to churn unpleasantly and her free hand to clasp desperately across her abdomen. The smell was familiar, but she couldn't place why. The crevice was getting deeper, darker, and warmer. It was starting to feel claustrophobic.

Elsa's breath hitched.

"We are there, little time." A hand caught hold of Elsa's elbow, the tone of voice gentle. "Watch the step."

Taking deep breaths, Elsa willed the thudding in her ears to slow. Trickling water could be heard. She took a step forward and then was instantly glad Merida had a hold of her arm. The drop was a lot bigger than anticipated. Elsa's heels scraped and slid along the slippery rock, forcing her to rely on her guide's strong hold. Even through the material of her cloak and top, Elsa could feel the calluses, the strength the smaller woman had.

Two more steps and a nearly sprained ankle, Elsa had enough.

"This is silly..." She sighed, righting herself against the wall with Merida's help.

"This is the one path." Merida seemed to shrug. "You have a better idea?"

Apart from wishing she hadn't put heels on her shoes? Actually, yes.

With a deep breath, Elsa closed her eyes and visualised what needed doing. When she was ready, she flashed her eyes open and summoned a small flurry. The sparkle of magic provided just enough light for her to see how far down they had yet to go. With a second wave of her free hand, she started summoning stairs of ice. Slats fell into place one by one. As she stepped onto the first one, she felt Merida's grip on her other arm loosen, and she was free to set her second hand to task. A rudimentary railing came into being, arching out from the walls and twinkling. As Elsa finished the last touches, she felt the princess let go, somehow missing the touch more than she felt possible.

"Wow..." The Scottish woman whispered awe evident in her voice. She went on to say something else, but Elsa couldn't make head or tail of it. Obviously her guide had fallen back into her native Gaelic.

The stairs glittered helpfully, a gentle glow in the ice picking up what little moonlight managed to reach down this far. It certainly made the descent much easier.

"Thank you..." The dark form of Merida seemed less frightening in the glow of the ice, her face rounder, gentler as she reached Elsa's side at the foot of the stairs. The bow was only held loosely in her hand now. Elsa could just about notice some kind of pattern adorning it.

"You're welcome," Elsa replied, automatically. She had no doubt that Merida would have, and already had managed the rocky drop down without her aid. Besides, the stairs were likely to melt within the day. She turned to face the path onwards, where the crevice seemed to split into three branches. "Which way now?"

"This way," Elsa could hear the grin in Merida's voice. She half hoped that she would hold onto her arm again and guide her, but she only went forward and gestured her towards the opening on the left.

There was an abrupt turn, and then light flooded the rocky hole. Elsa had to squint, looking up to the sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen now, but its light was seeping into the clouds, refracted in ways similar to the light in the ceilings of Elsa's Ice Palace.

Here the crevice widened into something of a clearing, jutting rocks forming a twisting window above their heads. The area, gleaming harsh in the white light of night, had various boulders sitting about, and pools of water steaming. The smell wasn't so bad here, the larger space certainly helping.

It didn't stop Elsa's heart from sinking. This still looked eerily familiar, and that dull warmth and the slight smell? It reminded her of that night oh so very long ago where her world had been turned upside down. Part of her wanted to flee, to return to her ice palace and hide behind Marshmallow. Another part secretly hoped for a troll to appear, rearing its craggily head to tell her how to dispel her winter curse. Neither side won, however, indecision immobilising her as Merida skipped towards the nearest pool.

"Failté," the woman said, her curls sprawling back out from her hood as she dropped her bag and undid her cloak. She threw an arm out in a dramatic sweep. "Welcome. Make yourself comfortable."

Elsa approached, more out of the need to not be alone than any hope for comfort. She sat on a small boulder as Merida pulled her boots off, stretched out her arms and yawned.

"Ah was on watch," the Scottish woman explained, her accent getting thicker as she sat down on her cloak. Another yawn threatened to drown the rest of her words. "Ah need sleep. Will ye watch for... morning light? Please?"

"I..." Watch for morning light? What did she mean?

Elsa forced herself not to wring her hands as she looked at Merida. The Princess had appeared short before, but without the bulk of her bearskin coat, she seemed even smaller, less warrior-like and certainly too young to be on the run by herself in a foreign land.

"Sure..." Elsa said, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering what she was signing up for. Seeing Merida look at her confused, she nodded the affirmative. It seemed to reassure the maiden.

Elsa watched as she unclasped her belt, removing her quiver and sword. She took a sip from her drinking horn, offering it to Elsa in turn. She refused. If she was thirsty, she could just summon some ice to chew. That seemed to be the bulk of Merida's preparations. She rolled herself up in the fur of her cloak, hand reaching out for the carved wood of her now unstrung bow. A mutter rose from the bearskin bundle, unintelligible. Elsa guessed she'd been saying goodnight.

It wasn't long before Merida's breathing settled into the soft rhythm of slumber. It was cute, in a way, how she held onto the wood of her bow like Anna used to hold onto her doll as a child.

Thinking of Anna...

Elsa raised her head as a shadow passed over their camp. Either the clouds above were getting thicker, or the moon was away to set. It wouldn't be Elsa's first sleepless night sat in darkness. She stared glumly at the starless sky. She worried about Anna. She would be in charge of the kingdom now, by all rights. Elsa wondered how she was getting on. Their father had always said that the burden of rule wasn't an easy one at the best of times. Maybe when Merida woke up, Elsa would be able to ask after her little sister's fortunes.

"I'm sorry Anna..." Elsa muttered, for perhaps what was the hundredth time in as many days.

The sky darkened. She sat, and waited.

Dawn, crisp and slow was creeping up the mountain at a similar pace to Kristoff. Even with a well serviced sleigh and enthusiastic reindeer, the going was tough. It didn't help that he was trying to avoid unwanted attention. Sure, it was expected of him to go up the mountain regularly. He was an outdoorsman, and even if he was no longer expected to do runs as an ice harvester, he was often doing deliveries, taking mail, checking on outposts and isolated families. He wasn't however expected to do this in any sort of hurry without good cause.

He studiously played the role of a bored driver as they passed one of the many checkpoints on the main path out of Arendelle city. The advantage of his early morning schedule meant there weren't many guards on, and they weren't very alert, but he didn't want to take the risk. Not with the note folded in his pocket. If the guard happened to be one of the recruits from the Southern Isles or an enthusiastic Arendellian who was supportive of the Prince's rule, they wouldn't be above asking him to empty his pockets for inspection.

The long winter alongside the regent's seeming paranoia certainly made people twitchy.

He turned off the main road as soon as he could, the dazzling light of the sun starting to glint over the mountain's slopes, hidden just behind. Something moved through the trees, catching his eye, causing him to stop. Sven huffed, his breath misting as he licked at a nearby tree in protest. Kristoff stayed quiet, listening, and alert. Now that the sleigh was still, he could hear muttering, clinking. Gently stepping out of the sleigh, he tried to get a better angle. It was a little downhill, behind a large pine. He didn't need to go far to see, the snow encrusted greenery hiding him from the ones below.

Men, a score or so... Soldiers, wearing the distinctive grey-green coats of Arendelle's guard, lined up in front of a medalled Southern Isles soldier, listening as the white-coated man issued indistinct instructions. The commander flashed his sword about, explaining the movement that Kristoff's eye had caught. The soldiers all had sword scabbards at their hips, but more noticeably crossbows and the odd portable cannon. His heart skipped a beat. Stumbling backwards, he swore beneath his breath and quickly got the sleigh up and running again, Sven swinging his head about in a clear attempt to tell Kristoff to make his bloody mind up already.

Once they were clear enough of the militia that he was comfortable making a louder noise, he called out, whipping the reins and encouraging Sven to go faster. All thought of discretion had fled from Kristoff's mind at the sight of the armed contingent.

Either Prince Hans had authorised another assault on the Snow Queen, or they were going all out to find the fugitive he was protecting.

Merida awoke at the first rays of sun creeping into their alcove. Hey eyelids fluttered open, squinting at the bright opening above. She groaned. Her sleep had been far too short, but it was better than nothing. The vestiges of disturbing dreams slowly filtered out of her consciousness. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.

Her back ached horribly as she tried to rollover. For all his fur, Mordu's skin didn't make for a great mattress. Merida half wished she'd found a snow bank to lay the skin on, but she didn't fancy waking up damp, again. Dry rock was, all things considered, an acceptable compromise. She stretched, glancing up to see where her companion-mark-whatever was.

Merida was relieved to see that Elsa hadn't left, or imprisoned her would-be opponent within walls of ice. The thin, white and sparkly-clothed woman was sat on the same boulder she'd been on when Merida had settled in for the night. She was now leaning against the wall and bigger boulder alongside, still as ice. Merida wasn't surprised to see that sleep had taken Arendelle's lost queen. Anyone who'd been as undernourished as the woman Merida had met last night wasn't going to last long on night watch duty, no matter how high-strung they were or how recently they'd napped.

The whole exercise had been about building trust anyway. Merida yawned as she sat up, nose scrunching up as she took in the scent of her clothes and bedding. Yep, they needed a wash. Thankfully, the alcove's natural hot springs were right there... When Merida saw Kristoff, she was going to hug the man for telling her about this place.

Now what was his advice about the hot pools again? Ah, yes, don't get cooked alive in one. She grabbed her sword and scabbard. She was going to need to test the waters, and her blade seemed like a good enough tool to help her gauge the heat without putting her hand in first. She paused then, reminding herself that while it was all well and good getting the clothes washed, she would also need to find a way to dry them. Though the alcove they were in was a lot warmer than the mountain outside, it was still not the warmest of places to be while you waited for your clothes to dry, and certainly not the fastest place to dry wet cloth in, as little breeze moved around. There was barely enough air movement to reduce the smell of brimstone to bearable.

With a raspberry, she put the sword back down and looked around for the supply stash Kristoff had mentioned. A small collection of dry wood and some nuts would certainly help with getting a fire going to dry clothes with and feed a hungry tummy.

It was times like these that Merida remembered just how much she loved outdoor life, even if she sure did miss the comfort of stone walls. There was something good and earthy about nature, living close to it, relying upon your wit and smarts to make the most of it. It wasn't easy, but Merida had never been one to balk at a challenge. If she had been, she never would have made the journey in the first place.

Now to see how quickly she could get this fire going without the magic of the amulet the witch had given her.

The sound of steel rasping against steel roused Elsa from her doze with a start. In a panic, she raised her hands, magic pooling into her fingertips out of sheer reflex. And then she stopped, realizing that the sound had been faint and that the owner of the sword it belonged to was facing away from her. She shook her head, feeling slightly dizzy, before muttering to herself, a habit she had soon developed during her retreat in the ice palace, if only to dispel the quiet.

Of course, she didn't expect a reply, even though she knew the other person was there.
"What?" She asked, unsure what the response had been. It had sounded like a garbled mess of syllables.

As she rubbed the sand from one eye, she could see the redhead twist her face towards her and smirk. More of her foreign dialect spilled forth. It wasn't until she pointed towards a small bowl by the fire that Elsa could make any meaning of what she was saying. Princess Merida was clearly aware of this, chuckling as she went back to whatever it was she was doing... What was she doing?

As Elsa gingerly stood up and walked up to the fire, she noticed that the Scots woman had shucked her dress. She was kneeling in her underclothes next to one of the pools, her outer vestments in a pile next to her. The sword, free of its scabbard, was being slowly dipped into the steaming waters.

Elsa kneeled. She picked up the bowl, still secretly revelling in the warmth coming off the flames in waves. The bowl contained some recently unshelled nuts, dried berries and grain: a meagre breakfast by most standards, but to Elsa a veritable feast. Picking up one of the berries, she turned her gaze back to the foreign princess. She was holding a palm to the side of her blade, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

Merida's reply was as unhelpful as the last, though this time Elsa thought she could distinguish the structure of a word or two. Her brows creased as she watched the redhead put her sword down and lift her discarded dress up. Oh.

The dark blue material that had been encrusted with brown and grey muck at the hems was dipped into the pool and swirled around. Elsa was suddenly very aware of Merida's frame, how toned her arms were, the tension in her shoulders as she stirred. Sweat from the effort and steam off the pool was forming on her skin. Merida didn't seem to mind.

It was alien, to Elsa, watching someone do this. Oh, she knew how clothes got washed, that there were soaps involved and scrubbing of linens. She just... Elsa had never sat and watched it done before. From the way Princess Merida was going about it, she'd clearly done it quite a few times. She even started humming a bit of a song as she rubbed at the more stubborn stains against the rocky ledge of the pool, a bar of soap barely noticeable in one hand.

Elsa sat a while, watching, munching on her breakfast one item at a time. The light coming in from the opening above was getting brighter, if still diffuse. Elsa wondered how long she'd slept. She felt a little guilty for not keeping better watch, but she'd never been that heavy of a sleeper... Normally.

It must have been the food, the queen reasoned. She hadn't had so much to eat in one bout as she had last night in weeks. She swallowed. She was lucky she could stomach as much to be honest. She'd barely had a handful of berries and nuts and already she felt full. But she needed to eat, so she kept going, distracting herself by puzzling over the princess in front of her.

Merida, Princess of Dunbroch, daughter to the Bear King Fergus... Not much was known about the kingdom of Dunbroch, beyond the fact that for generations the crown to what was otherwise known as the Land of the Scots had passed from clan to clan, infighting carrying more weight than blood or loyalty. Fergus Dunbroch had been the first in a long time to grab the crown and hold on to it for so long. No doubt, it was whispered, thanks to the prowess of his shrewd wife. Queen Eleanor was notoriously educated for a Scotswoman, even a noble. So much so that there had been little surprise when news spread that she was homeschooling her daughter and sons herself. She was also an apt negotiator and diplomat, opening up trade routes from the Scottish Kingdom that had been neglected and plagued with piracy for many years, though Fergus had his own share in boosting their economy: Many neighbouring kingdoms had taken note of the tales of King Fergus fighting a great demon bear, and many travelled to Dunbroch's shores just to find out if they were true. It was mostly common folk, so far, but looking at Merida, Elsa had no doubt that foreign diplomats and nobility would be following suite in the years to come.

With an impressive whacking sound, Merida slapped her soaking wet garment on the stone and stood. Walking towards the fire, she smiled at Elsa, the youthfulness of her face as striking as the nasty scars Elsa suddenly noticed on Merida's right arm.

More gibberish words, but their meaning clearly warm, questioning, her gaze was directed at the bowl in Elsa's hands.

"It's... fine. Thank you." Elsa replied, hoping she'd guessed the meaning right from context. From Merida's beaming smile, the reply must have been satisfactory. Elsa frowned, unable to stop the question that followed from escaping her lips. "How old are you?"

The last time she'd heard any tales from the Dunbroch kingdom, it had been about how the heir to the throne had thwarted all her male suitors by shooting for her own hand and winning. Elsa remembered because while Anna had been telling their servants how she couldn't understand someone refusing to choose a suitor, Elsa had been absolutely perplexed that the Dunbrochs had organised such an event for a mere child of sixteen.

"I am eighteen." The princess's eyes were slanted, clearly full of ire at having to use Elsa's tongue while in a state of undress. She threw her wet clothes onto the wooden frame she'd constructed by the fire. Some of her Gaelic tongue followed, too rapidly for Elsa to follow, but she could sense some degree of empathy to the words. Seeing Elsa's puzzlement, Merida sighed. "How old are you?"

Elsa stopped, moments away from replying, realizing that she wasn't quite sure. Days had turned into weeks and then into months without her really keeping track. "What date is it?"

Stunned, the redhead let out a bark of laughter, before turning back to the pool and pulling off her top undergarment and bindings. "It's November the first, your coronation, same year."

"Then I am still twenty-one." Elsa replied simply, her eyes following the ripple in Merida's back muscles as she lowered herself into the pool. It was deeper than Elsa had anticipated, just as Merida was covered in a lot more scars than Elsa had thought likely for a person of such a young age. Eighteen: that was Anna's age. She gulped, her eyes watering at the thought of her sister, of the amount of time that had passed since they'd last spoke.

"Aaah..." That strongly accented dialect was back, obviously praising the warmth of the waters as Elsa felt frost crinkling beneath her. Merida dipped her head under, coming back up with her curls flattened, her hair darkened as those bright eyes turned towards the queen.

"Twenty-one..." Merida finally replied, amusement in her voice. "So young to be a... what's the word? ...Hermit!"

Though Merida's attempt at humour was not completely lost, Elsa was more rattled by her manner and appearance. Her appetite gone, Elsa swallowed. She put down her bowl, still half full, remembering suddenly what the smell of the crevice could be described as. Her mother had used the word once, long ago. It had given her father Agdar cause to giggle, earning him a slap on the arm from a disgruntled Idunn still carrying an unconscious Anna. It had taken Elsa many years to get the joke.

Curse this warrior princess for coming to Arendelle and not being like the others. If she'd been antagonistic like Prince Hans and his men, Elsa would have had no qualms about pushing her away, threatening her to keep her at bay. As it was, it was quickly becoming clear that while Merida had announced her intentions to end Elsa's winter curse, she had no intentions of doing so by force anytime soon. She was presenting herself as a would-be ally, a protector, and Elsa wouldn't have it. She needed to leave.

Images of young Anna, hair newly stained with white, plagued Elsa's mind.

But before she could leave, she needed some more questions answered.