Past
Chapter IV
Melissa was indeed a torment. She tried everything to make Halvdan quit: gossip, ask for girl advice, got him to brush her hair, paint her nails, listen to her atrocious voice sing the Arendelle national anthem. But nothing stopped him. He just stood there as tough as an eight-year-old could look, constantly being around her. She tried annoying him, flattering him, boring him, yet he was just as relentless as she was. "How can you tolerate me," she asked irritably.
"It's not my job to tolerate you. It's my job to watch after you."
"Wise words," she grumbled, combing her long, chocolate hair for the umptenth time. There was one last trick she had up her sleeve and she cringed at the thought of it: flirting. She could make him fall for her, break his heart, and then he'd leave her alone. Hopefully. She flipped her hair as she turned to face him. "You must be very brave watching after me."
"Not really. Guards do this all the time."
"But to be a Guard is very courageous, don't you think?"
"Don't think flirting with me will get you anywhere."
"What? I'm not flirting with you. I'm just saying-"
"I'm just saying we're eight years old. Flirting doesn't even come into play at our age. Try again." She sighed daintily, turning back to her mirror. This is going to be harder than I thought.
"Why would you think I'm flirting with you? Does that mean you want me to," she questioned him, trying to find his weakness as she applied more power to her cheeks.
"Because you want me to leave you like the other guards have. And if you keep putting powder on, your face is going to crumble off from dehydration-"
"Oh how sweet! You care about my face."
"I care about you making it to your uncle in one piece."
"There it was! I heard it, you admitted it. You care about me."
"If that's the way you want to see it-"
"Oh Halden-"
"Halvdan."
"Whatever, you do care. Don't act like you don't."
"Yeah, I do. I do care." She smiled, allowing the light from the candles to make her teeth shimmer. "I care about how quickly we can get you to your uncle so I don't have to deal with you anymore." She pouted, sticking her lip out.
"You don't mean that, Hal, do you?"
"I do."
"You're just kidding, Hal. Stop it,"she teased.
"I've never been more serious. And it's Halvdan, not Hal."
"So Halv, how was your trip?"
"I never wanted to kill someone more in my life." Sam smiled while finishing laundry.
"That well huh?" Halvdan fell onto his bed, listening to uniforms being folded.
"She just kept talking and talking and wouldn't shut up. All she did was nag, nag, nag, and complain. She kept pointing out how noble my job was and it was just awful."
"That doesn't remind me of anyone I know of. Not in the slightest."
"What do you mean Sam?"
"What do you think I mean, Halv?"
"I think you're being sarcastic to prove a point."
"Oh? You mean how I can make parallels from how you follow me to how you described Melissa's behaviour?" Halvdan looked up at Sam, who didn't bother looking back at him. "No, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Did you enjoy your trip, Ms. Claey?"
"Don't act like you're pleased to see me Hal."
"I'm only doing it because I have to."
"How poetic." Melissa boarded the boat once more, this time going back to the coast instead of leaving it. Halvdan sighed inside; enduring another week with this woman might just kill him. "Come on, Celent. We have things to do." Halvdan didn't know who Celent was, but he figured from Sam's teachings on sarcasm and intention that Melissa was referring to him. The giant white boat set off as Halvdan followed Melissa to her quarters.
"Who's Celent?"
"What?"
"You said, 'come on Celent." Who is Celent?"
"Celent is a Baskwell poet, one of the most famous in the world. It was a reference to me saying you were poetic earlier." They reached Melissa's door when Melissa stopped, turning back to her guard. "Have you never read Celent?"
"No, I can't say I have." Melissa sighed deeply, leaning on the door.
"Well this explains why you're so tight. I'll be back." She entered her gold room and moments later came out with five poetry books. "This green one is all Celent. The blue is Celent's play Orion and the other three have Celent poems as well as others like Munchene, Parcle, and Kemp."
"I can't read all of this in a week! I have to watch after you!"
"You sleep across from my room. You'll know if I'm doing anything. Plus, you don't want to hear me complain about you not reading real poetry, do you?"
"No," Halvdan accidentally slipped out. Melissa smiled.
"Then read or I'll make your life a living hell."
"I can't believe she got you into Celent."
"You know, for such an annoying woman, she does have a good choice in poetry."
"You're not a poet. You're a guard."
"Guards can appreciate poetry. Listen:
'Red nails, blue skies
and how the light dances in your eyes
enchants me, smothers me
your love flows like Zea
and yet, we wonder
what is across yonder
fields and plains
watching the flight of crains'"
"Dear God. You like "Flight of Crains"? That's awful."
"What? It's beautiful."
"I could write better."
"No you couldn't. How about this:
'And here we lie, young and beautiful
as we worship the awful
sunrise, sunset, time
hearing the clocks chime
down our existence'"
"I expect better choices from you."
"Come on."
"Don't tell me you liked Orion."
"I loved that play!"
"Dear God. Why? Why has she done this to you?"
"Melissa? She didn't do anything but introduce me to an artist."
"You had such potential-"
"Celent is amazing! He's a genius!"
"You like Kemp too, don't you? Don't deny it, you awful human being."
"What? You don't like Kemp ethier?"
"I like real geniuses."
"Like who? Give me one?"
"How about Walt Whitman? Edger Allen Poe? For God's sake, e.e. cummings is better than Celent!" Halvdan watched Sam explode in poetic fury. "Celent is a genius, you say? How about Maya Angelou for her inaugural address poem, hum? Or William Butler Yeats? Don't talk to me about classic poems until you read Yeats! Oscar Wilde, William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Ralph Emerson, I would say Robert Frost but I hate him, so he no longer counts-"
"Then give me some of their poetry. Let me decide for myself if they're good or not? Their books are in the library right?"
"No," Sam yelled. Halvdan watched Sam carefully as his peer collected himself. "I mean, I mean I don't think they have any of those works. I, I'll get you a book. S-sorry."