Chapter Four – Unwelcome Tourists
"Lockstein? Never 'eard of it," the grizzled farmer replied, not even looking up from his plow. The mule that was pulling regarded the motley crew on the other side of the fence with an air of skepticism. The reindeer looked back at her with an equal amount of cynicism. The mule ignored him and looked at the sled he was pulling instead. It was fancy, finer than any cart she had ever laid eyes on. It was positively pompous. She snorted.
A young man and woman sat in the front seat. The man was slouched over the reins and the woman was leaning all the way over the back of the seat with a hat over her face, half asleep. The man had a burly build that showed years of hard labor. His intimidation factor was severely diminished by his boyish face. The mule directed her attention towards the woman. Her matching pigtail braids clashed with the finery of her dress, making it hard to guesstimate her age. In the bed of the sled, there was a lute, some ropes and pickaxes, and a mossy rock. The whole collection of people and objects formed a crazy kaleidoscopic collage. It screamed, "We are outsiders and you should not trust us!"
The mule resumed ignoring them.
"Are you sure? We heard that town was somewhere around here," the blond man continued.
'What man asks for directions?' the mule wondered.
"Hush, Brita," her master silenced her.
'You've never asked for directions,' she said.
"I said hush," he repeated. He had never asked for directions because he had never travelled. He looked over at the sled. The man seemed to be bickering with his reindeer. He said something then mouthed something back at himself.
'What a weird guy,' the mule said to her farmer.
The reindeer and man's heated argument eventually led to the reindeer kicking the front of the sled with his back leg. The woman sat up with a start. She talked to the man, looking over his shoulder at the plowing team. The man massaged the bridge of his big nose and the woman touched his arm. She said something to him and he shrugged and nodded. The woman stepped out and approached the fence. The farmer pushed back the brim of his hat. Without a hat over her face, she was really pretty. He quickly pulled his own hat down again and stared ahead. He wouldn't be that easily swayed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two of his sons stop working. He glared at them and they pretended to focus. He turned his plow and began heading away from the fence, avoiding the sled riders altogether.
"Um, excuse me?" the woman called. The old farmer ignored her. As he started to walk away, one of his sons approached, plowing in the opposite direction. "Hello!" she greeted the younger man. He tipped his hat but otherwise ignored her. The donkey in front of his plow trotted forward and brayed a greeting. The reindeer snorted back. "Do you know of a town called Lockstein? Our directions are kinda… outdated. We're lost, basically."
"Toogh situation yoor in then," he responded.
"Yeah, so if you could tell us which direction, or if you've even heard of it," she probed.
"Oh yah, that voold be nice vooldn't it?" he avoided an answer. He had reached the end of his row and turned away. He and his younger brother traded places at the side of the fence.
"Hey! You!" the woman waved and jogged to the last farmer. "Could you tell us what towns we're near, please? We really don't know where we're going!"
"Vell vhy didn't you check foor directions when you left?" the youngest man replied. His accent was just as thick as his superiors, if not thicker.
"Well we asked our friend but it turned out she didn't know exactly where we were going, just the general area. Does Lockstein ring any bells?" she asked.
"Lockstein? Of course I've 'eard of Lockstein!" he scoffed, "Lockstein's a straight shot doun the road. It'll be on yoor right," he said. Before he could finish, the woman was back in the sled. "Only toun round here verth avoiding," he muttered under his breath.
"Thank you!" the woman said gratefully. She reached for a name then realized he hadn't said it.
"It's Gunne Omdahl," he introduced himself and tipped his hat. Fancy people such as these always liked it when he tipped his hat.
"Thank you Gunne!" she waved.
"One moment, miss! Vhat did you say yoor name vas?" he asked on a whim. They were already nearly out of earshot, but the woman turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back:
"Princess Anna of Arendelle!"
His father and brother's heads snapped up so fast their hats fell off their heads. The youngest brother held one hand to the side of his head and turned back and forth between the receding sled and his family. Once he figured out that he was awake, his shock transformed into elation. "A princess joost thanked me! I joost helped a princess! A princess asked me to 'elp her!"
"Hush up, Gunne! You aren't a knight joost for giving a princess directions!" his brother teased.
"You hush up, Mikkel! You joost vish you vere the one to give her directions!" Gunne retorted.
"Marshmallow, be careful," the boy murmured. The big snowman stopped and scanned ahead of him. Other than a few spindly white trees, the path was clear. Then he heard a quiet sigh from behind his head. The boy was asleep. "Grandpa's trees," he crooned, cuddling into Marshmallow's neck. The snowman looked at the white trees with black stripes again. Were those the grandfather trees? Earlier, when they had reached the base of the mountain, the boy had said that there would be a densely packed jungle. That was when their journey would almost be over. Marshmallow wasn't completely sure what a jungle was. From the way the boy had fawned over it, he could guess that it was somewhere special, at least to the boy.
He took another step and stumbled forward. He caught himself on a tree, snapping the trunk. The horrible noise of cracking bark was enough to send any nearby birds squawking away in a panic. He swung his arms, attempting to catch himself on his way down, and took out even more trees. He felt the boy on his back wake with a start, just in time to watch him crash face first into the ground. He growled and decided then and there that he didn't like dirt. He didn't like clay or mud or soil or anything like it.
The boy stumbled off of the snowman's back, still in a half-asleep stupor. "Marshmallow!" He darted up to his head and tried to heave it up. "Are you alright?" he worried. He tugged at the back of his neck to no avail. "What happened?" He pulled hard at the edge of his ear and puffed up his cheeks. He looked back and nearly ripped his own ear off in surprise. Marshmallow's left leg was missing. "Jumping juniper…" the boy muttered. Back from where they had come from, the leg at large stood alone. The boy snorted out a breath, irritated. He marched right up to the leg. "You! Get over there!" he commanded. His pointing got him nowhere. "Go! Get! Shoo! Hup!" He kicked the foot and Marshmallow groaned.
"Thad burt," Marshmallow said into the dirt. The boy paused. He had no idea what he had said. Marshmallow pushed up with one arm and spit out soil. "That hurt," he rumbled.
"Oh, oh! You can still feel that! I didn't realize! Sorry!" he excused himself. He couldn't decide if he wanted to run back and apologize more or comfort the lone foot. He decided to hug the leg. "Sorry!" he shouted, "Uh, should I bring this back to you?"
"No," Marshmallow replied. He pushed onto his good knee and plodded forward. Unable to keep his balance, he pitched forward and landed on his elbows.
"Please, let me help!" he started towards his friend. He was batted away.
"No. Done it before. Do it again," Marshmallow dismissed him. The boy's eyebrows stitched themselves together and his mouth flattened into an exasperated line.
"Let me help you!" he protested. He gestured out with frustration and icy spikes shot out in every direction. They impaled the ground, the trees, and the snowman. Marshmallow looked down. A thick icicle had buried itself into his chest, along with more icicles that were widely ranging in shapes and sizes. He frowned. This boy may have the same abilities as Elsa, but his magic was nothing like hers. It was feral and erratic, not controlled and perfected like hers.
Marshmallow pulled the largest spear out of his chest and dropped it on the ground. It landed with a thunk. All of a sudden the boy was right in front of him. His mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. He reached for an icicle embedded in Marshmallow's leg, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. He forced his hand to wrap around the base and then pulled back. It came loose with the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.
He held the icicle to his chest. It was as thick as his arm and as long as his leg. A sob racked his frame. "I didn't mean it," he sniveled, "I wanted to get your leg, but I messed it up, and I hurt you, and you probably don't even want to help me anymore because this thing is bigger than my whole head and then it was in your chest and I just wanted to help you!" he cried. Marshmallow tapped him gently on his head. He looked up. The snowman was giving him that blank look that he wore when he didn't know what to say. He pointed and the boy looked down.
Marshmallow had used the icicles to reattach his left leg. It wasn't quite connected, but he could still use it. When he picked up his leg, it slipped down and threatened to fall off again, but when he put his foot back down it was relinked. It wasn't perfect, but it was a solution nonetheless. "You fixed it," the boy said. He wiped his eyes and sniffled. "How did that happen in the first place?" he wondered aloud.
"Bad soldiers," Marshmallow ruminated. Something in his inflection told the boy not to press the point.
"Are you sure you're fine?" He gently slid his fingers between the joints.
"It's," Marshmallow paused, "okay." The boy smiled gratefully up at him.
"Are you still going to help me?"
"Let's, go." Marshmallow lifted him up. The duo loped on through the trees, leaving the green clearing behind them. Only the abandoned icicles were witness to another streak of the boy's hair turning stark white.
"They couldn't really mean that this forest was haunted, could they?" Anna laughed.
"They didn't say that it was haunted, they said a witch lived here," Pyry corrected. Anna jumped. She had forgotten that the troll scout was riding in Kristoff's pack instead of walking. They had left Sven and the sled behind at Lockstein's only inn, The Prancing Pig. Kristoff hadn't wanted to leave him there, but Anna convinced the innkeeper to protect him with her 'powers of persuasion.' He would be able to afford another inn with the payment she had given him.
"Isn't it weird though? Nowadays we hear about anything even a little magical," Anna commented. She looked at the thinly spread trees. They barely touched branches. It was like they were nervous to be around anyone, much less each other.
"That floating cat was interesting," Kristoff joked. Anna smiled at the memory.
"Who ever heard of a floating cat?" Pyry grumbled.
"Who ever heard of a talking rock?" Kristoff responded. Pyry made a face that looked like she had just sucked on a lemon and been slapped at the same time. Anna couldn't hold in her laughter. They continued on like that for a ways, Anna and Kristoff joking around together and Pyry grating her teeth and trying not to look too excited about all the new sights and sounds surrounding her.
Their steady plod halted temporarily when they passed a clearing in disarray. Trees had been snapped in half and holes had been bored into the ground. Worst of all, snow coated the ground and icicles jutted out of everything.
"I can't believe they're just using Elsa's powers like that!" Anna fumed.
"Anna, they probably didn't mean to do it. Maybe they lost control," Kristoff calmed her.
"When Elsa lost control she froze the whole kingdom," Pyry commented. Kristoff shoved her back into his pack before Anna had a chance to throw her across the clearing. Anna picked up an icicle, careful not to break it. It was dripping in the summer sun, melting slowly. She looked at Kristoff. Elsa's creations only melted when she wanted them to, and they disappeared wickedly fast.
"We should get going," he said.
"Yeah…" Anna took a once over of the situation before they left. There was a hole in the snow coverage right next to two foot sized holes. Footprints walked off to the side towards a huge hole in the snow. It almost resembled the shape of a body, but the proportions were all off. A distant memory tickled the back of Anna's memory, just out of reach. She shook it away. She would remember it if it was important.
They took their leave, sticking to the path like glue. The trees maintained a safe distance from them, swaying imperceptibly with the breeze. The path slowly dwindled down until it was hardly wide enough for them to walk side by side. Then it stopped altogether. They continued forward in a straight line until they were confronted with a wall made of foliage.
These trees were nothing like the plants they had just been walking past. They weren't afraid of contact and it showed. They weaved tightly together, gripping each other's leaves and groping one another's bark. The brutal sense of impenetrable unity was enough to leave anyone stunned.
"Now that's a forest," Kristoff finally said.
"How are we ever going to find that kid in a place like this?" Pyry said, frustrated that there was another snag in their plan.
"It's fine, we'll just find an opening and start from there," Anna comforted. Her never ending optimism was unnerving. She trooped off, swinging her arms. The rest of the party followed behind her. The way that the vines climbed the sides of the trees and spun and twirled to reach the other branches was mesmerizing. Anna tried to ignore them and looked for an entryway instead.
"Are you sure she's a princess?"
"Pyry," Kristoff groaned.
"I'm just saying she doesn't act at all like royalty!" Pyry protested.
"Be quiet, she'll hear you." He tried to put her back into his pack but she pushed him away.
"I don't care if she hears me!" she said.
"She's a princess and you should respect her." Kristoff reasoned with her.
"Why should I?" she challenged.
"I respect her!" Kristoff blurted out.
Pyry didn't know what to say to his unabashed honesty.
"Hey, look at this!" Anna called them over. She wondered why Kristoff was blushing so brilliantly pink and why Pyry had a sourer expression than usual, but her curiosity quickly switched back to what she had found. "What do you think it is?" Pushing into the tree line was a smooth mass of snow. Behind Anna's back, the mass spun to reveal a scowling face. Kristoff's heart dropped into his stomach. He remembered that scowl. Anna saw his expression and turned. Suddenly she knew what the shapes in the clearing were. The memory that had been itching for her attention jumped forward and her face morphed into a mask of terror.
"Marshmallow," she gasped.
He towered over them and roared, "Go away!" Anna fled to the left. She didn't see Kristoff running the other direction, all she saw were vines and branches reaching for her. "Leave him alone!" Marshmallow bellowed, breathing down her neck. He razed the ground, pulling trees up by their trunks and exposing their roots. The snapping and cracking branches and leaves sounded like screams. Vines twisted in all directions as they lost their anchors. They hissed and whirled malevolently, scraping and cutting the princess's face and arms. Leaves wound around her legs, grabbing at her feet and threatening to send her sprawling.
Her retreat was fuelled purely by adrenaline. Her heart beat to a rhythm set by a delirious drummer. It pounded against her ribs. Each kathunk was a step closer towards it leaping out of her chest and running away without her, leaving her to fend for herself. She couldn't see more than a foot in front of her face, and she could hardly breathe. She kept moving, unaware that the roars of the indignant giant were fading behind her. Her lungs hurt and her eyes were burning. She realized that she couldn't hear that monstrous roar and stopped, finally. She wheezed out a laugh.
"We did it," she celebrated between gasps for air. Running around a palace and globetrotting did not provide the skill set needed to recover from a frenzied flee like that. She held onto a tree for support. Air seemed to be evading her, no matter how many times she sucked it into her lungs. "It was a little rough, for a minute there, hah," she sighed, "but we did it." She leaned on the tree and slid down to a sitting position. "Who would've thought that he'd be here," she laughed. "I didn't know he was still around. Did you?" She opened her eyes and finally realized that she had been talking to no one.
"Kristoff?" She pulled herself to her feet. "Kristoff?" she called, this time more urgent. "Kristoff!"
There was no response.
She was absolutely alone.
She tried to take a step, but her leg turned into jelly beneath her. She acquainted herself with the ground, a bit quicker than she would have preferred, and lay there. "Come on legs, we can do this," she said. She slowly sat up and huffed. Her legs were so sore she could hardly feel them; her arms were so scratched she wished she couldn't feel them; and her heart was beating so fast she could still feel it.
"Well this isn't the worst day ever," she chuckled, but it died off quickly, "What am I gonna do?" she moaned. She buried her head in her hands. "I lost Kristoff, Elsa's sick, there's a kid running around with her powers, I can't stand, Marshmallow was waiting for us, we got lost on the way here, Pyry doesn't like me, and now I'm stuck in the middle of a magical jungle. Fantastic!" Her rambling was in such disarray, she doubted Kristoff would have been able to translate it even if he had been with her.
A rustling in the bushes in front of Anna caused her to look up. An animal emerged from the underbrush. No, it wasn't an animal; it was walking on two legs. The mottled lighting that was leaking through the canopy made it hard to see exactly what it was. It was no taller than her foot, maybe four inches tall, and it was carrying some kind of stick. It poked the bottom of her foot with the stick, and she discovered that it had been sharpened to a point. She recoiled and it mirrored the action.
It stepped closer, cautiously, and she saw that its head was actually an animal's skull. Its body was made out of an odd mix of clay and twigs, with flowers and moss sprouting through to form a living hodge-podge of plants. Thin leaves wrapped around it like a ribbon, holding its form together. They were tied together at its back in a delicate bow. If someone pulled that bow off, it looked as though it would fall apart. There was no way it had tied it itself. Its crude claw-like hands would never allow it.
It crept around her. Whenever Anna moved, it would angrily shake its stick and stomp its feet. Eventually she stopped trying to look and see what it was doing. She nearly jumped when she felt it touch her left hand. She glanced down without moving her head. It kicked her hand, prodding her thumb with its stick. She turned her head slowly. It didn't react. It was too busy climbing on top of her hand. It kept poking her fingers gently, like it was looking for something. Its search was methodical and practiced, like it knew exactly what it was trying to find.
The creature plopped down between her knuckles, one leg on her pointer finger, the other on her middle. It scooted down to find a comfy position and finally glanced up. Though it technically didn't have eyes, it seemed to be scanning her face. It nodded its approval and promptly stabbed the sharpened stick between her fingers. She howled in pain and stuck her finger in her mouth. Over the metallic taste of her blood, she tasted something else. It was sickeningly sweet with a bitter aftertaste. She recalled a long-forgotten lesson from the castle's head chef.
"Poison," she realized. Then reality spun out of focus.
Chapter four word count: 3,600
A/N: Hi again! If you're a new reader, you can ignore this paragraph, but if you're a regular: Guess which author finally found enough time to write and edit this chapter? This gal! (You can't see me, but I'm pointing at myself.) I've been so insanely busy these past two weeks, so thank you for being patient with me. My schedule is going back to normal now, so updates will be regular again. Phew!
Hoorah for phonetic spellings, amirite? (Isn't it weird how phonetic isn't phonetic?) We're starting to get into the nitty gritty second act (according to my screenwriting books), so get ready for some twists and turns. (I wrote better notes for these upcoming chapters, thank goodness!) If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment, review, critique, whatever strikes your fancy! I'll see you all next chapter. Bye for now!
