All rights go to Disney. Keep up the good work, you money-grubbing dream makers.
Oh, I nearly forgot to credit the lovely FrozenRose1 for volunteering to edit my work. I have no idea who she (turned out she is a girl) is, but a person who offers one needed help for no return has to be a wonderful person.
As of now, this is my first proof-read chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it!
Chapter 7
The Past is in the Past
Anna and Olaf were not the types to be silent. They were the kind of people to continue bouncing off the walls with their boundless optimism, providing relief to the dour silence that permeated the castle walls at times. For years, in Anna's case.
Both of them remaining completely motionless at the same time was unthinkable. Yet here they were, speechless.
Of all people, Kristoff was the one to shatter the silence. "So, we have a bit of problem, right?" He struggled to maintain an upbeat tone. "Big looming threat that will destroy the kingdom in a few days? We've done it before, sounds like something we can handle!" Sadly, his voice was too dry to convey enthusiasm.
Worried for Arendelle, Elsa asked, "Who was this person targeting Adam?"
"Not a person. A Spøkelse. One who has consumed others of its kind for centuries."
Anna raised her hand meekly. "Um... Excuse me? What can it do, exactly?"
"Anna," Elsa said, her voice guarded. "Remember the story Father told us, years ago?"
"Which one? Cause I kinda forgot... I'm sorry, it was just so long ago. I could barely remember the past years nowadays."
"It was about when Adam left Ravendall forever, Anna." Elsa replied quietly.
"Really? Now that I look at it, wasn't it kind of like when you ran up to the North..." Anna's voice faded, seeing Elsa cringe. The air dropped a couple of degrees. "Oh no... I'm so, so sorry Elsa."
"I-it's okay."
Once again, the silence descended itself upon the group in the library, corporeal and suffocating.
"So what," Kristoff said, once more breaking the ice, "what would reading this book do to help us against this old ghost?"
Helge raised a disappointed eyebrow at his foster brother. "Kristoff, I thought we taught you better; learning more about an opposition will give us a better idea on how to manage it."
"Hey, I listened to Mom on how to travel through the mountains safely. I wanted to harvest ice, not become a schoolteacher..." Kristoff replied indignantly.
"Why waste your talents with solid water? You had the brains for it, and you were so eager to learn when we first adopted you. For some reason however, you continued to follow those ice harvesters. You could have been a shaman, even! You just needed the..." Helge began to bicker with Kristoff about the importance of the mountain man's education, almost nose-to-nose in their confrontation.
Someone cleared her throat loudly. They snapped their heads to see the Snow Queen, looking down on the table so she wouldn't have to focus on their eyes. She looked almost apologetic.
"E-Excuse me, may I just... take a look at this book?"
Helge widened his eyes, forgetting about his argument. "But of course. It belong to you now." He lifted the book above his head respectfully. "You are the Queen of Arendelle, after all."
It was your parents. You are the queen.
Elsa held out her trembling hands, and felt her fingers wrap around the rough covering of the book. She nodded at Helge, who released the book from his hands. The tome dipped down like a stone, and her back strained as she prevented it from touching the carpet floor.
The extreme weight of the book did not surprise Elsa, at all. She was just a weak, timid little girl after all, desperately trying to imitate the ease and poise that her father always seemed to carry with him. She knew she could never handle the book like her parents did.
Another pair of hands swooped to catch the other side. Elsa tilted her head up, and saw Anna beaming at her. Her arms strained heavily with the weight, and she assumed a stance with hunched shoulders and widened legs, completely undignified in her poise. Nonetheless, she eased Elsa's burden.
"Anna..."
"Kristoff wasn't kidding," she said, trying to contain her laughter. "Is there a table nearby?"
"I don't think a mere table could support that monster..." Kristoff muttered, but he quickly slipped a desk between the sisters. Helge and Olaf scuttled to place some chairs for everyone.
With a cry of effort, Anna and Elsa released the book. There was only a few centimeters between the volume and wood, but the resultant sound was thunderous, rolling through the rows of shelves and empty halls.
Helge stood up from a plush chair. He drank in the book's aged grandeur, not at all bothered that it was a mess of paper within. "More than three hundred centuries of human history..." he said, in complete awe. The little troll gave everyone a look, and opened it gently.
Dust shot everywhere, unbidden and unrestrained. At least three years collection of dry powder sent everyone into coughing fits. Olaf grasped his nose and sneezed, launching his head to the other side of the royal library. "Oh my, give me a bit." The snowman fell to the ground with a muted thud, and rolled its way to the missing cranium.
"Just like old times, I suppose?" Elsa gagged. She blinked and looked at the open pages. She saw short notes littered everywhere, almost covering the actual manuscripts. One of the pages contained a looping handwriting, and Elsa heart came to a stop.
How long had it been, three years or more, since she had seen that particular way the letter "g" was curved? On documents, on letters to other countries, on little notes of love. She followed that letter, watching with fascination as it turned into a stanza of a poem, beautiful because of the person who wrote it.
She flicked her eyes to another page. These different, flowing curves, for a time, had accompanied her in lonely nights, when the pale moon reflected itself against mirrors made of ice. They were made by hands that tutored Elsa on how to tie her braid into a bun, hands that held Elsa aloft as a little girl, hands whose warmth no longer existed.
Elsa wanted more. She longed for the last evidence of her parents' existence. She wanted to take that book from Helge's hands, steal it away with her into her room, and lock herself for hours on end, reading these pages over and over again until she could almost see the King and Queen themselves, standing on solid ground and smiling. Maybe she could even talk to them, tell them just how much she misses them. For all she knows, this book may as well be the closest thing this world has to revisiting the dead and gone.
"Elsa."
The Snow Queen shuddered, and blinked rapidly at her concerned friends. She had been wrapping her arms around herself. A fine layer of snow rested on the table, except where Helge used his body to cover the book. Any moisture would have probably damaged the book beyond repair. Anna and Kristoff were shivering slightly in their summer clothing, exhaling mist. Frost had bloomed at her end of the table, starting from her shaking fists, forming crystals that shimmered in the moonlight.
Focus.
There is no use in learning more about her parents. The fate of Elsa's kingdom was far more important than her pathetic, wishful pining. "E-excuse me, everyone. I'm sorry." The snow slowly withdrew back to her, before vanishing in thin air.
Helge snatched a piece of ice before it could disappear, crunching on it audibly as he flipped the pages, sending even more dust flying away that settled on the table.
His fingers came to a stop nearby the very beginning of the old tome. "We've reached Adam's diary." He tapped on a section that contained archaic scribbles. "Now, Grand Pabbie had managed to estimate when and where Adam the Adventurer first came across the Spøkelse of Ravendall." He lifted a sheet, and looked at both sides. "He focused the date down to around a few months, and these entries appear to be a weekly event..." He peeked into a section deeper in the book. "Beyond this, it's a complete mess."
Elsa saw Kristoff narrow his eyes at those words.
"Alright..." Helge frowned in concentration. "Here we are. This was his first time exploring the Lost Woods of Ravendall... Well, got lost in it, really. He only made it out because he met a Landvættir... nothing special there. Oh, on his second time, he made friends with a few ghosts! Imagine that..."
Anna and Elsa were young at the time, but developed enough cynicism that they hardly believed their Father was being serious about Adam's stories. Still, they remembered something Akthar mentioned one night when they were together, a remark that passed over their heads.
Ghosts are born when people don't accept their deaths, or are really unaware. Ravendall was infamous for teeming with apparitions, because the Lost Woods just happened to provide a... sufficient atmosphere.
"Tried petting a reindeer, nearly got himself gorged..."
"Hey!" Kristoff snapped. "I would have you know that reindeers are perfectly nice-"
"And you indirectly kiss one regularly. We know." Anna covered her mouth to hide a smile at her boyfriend, as Kristoff's face flushed. Elsa herself never really thought of Kristoff's occasional habits in... that particular way.
"Made a bet with a ghost one day to climb the highest tree as quickly as possible, only to end up stuck there..." Helge continued.
"How did he come down?" Anna chirped.
"He fell off when he accidentally offended an elf sitting at the highest branch. He had mistaken her for a very beautiful ghost, and was slapped into the nearby lake."
Anna giggled slightly at the thought of a man (looking a little like Kristoff) given a flying lesson. "Prince Adam wasn't exactly the type to think things through, was he?"
Elsa allowed herself to smirk. "Not unlike a certain sister..."
"Elsa!" Anna whined.
Helge pointed at a date. "Ah. I think this should be within a month of the incident. Just what we were looking for." The troll cleared his throat. Here we go..."
Page 65: The King, was being extra thick today. The whole time last night, he repeatedly told me, his overblown purple cape following behind him and trailing dirt all over the carpeting, "Do NOT reenter the Lost Woods! I am in no mood to have my little brother killed! This is my final warning!"
Normally, I would find that a perfectly reasonable, if albeit ignorant command.
"How old is Prince Adam at the time, exactly?" Anna asked.
"Seventeen," Helge replied.
"What!? Younger than me at the time? That's totally not fair..."
"Anna, you know better than to interrupt." Elsa broke in.
Helge rolled his eyes and continued with the entry.
I was beginning to regret telling him that the trade routes running through Ravendall's forests were coming up with more and more disappearances. I've been working my best to protect my people as Prince, but... there's only so much one man can do. I'm getting tired. I nearly lost a man to pack of wolves yesterday. That's why I told Trigve in the first place, to send the message that forest shortcuts are no longer safe.
I didn't even mention about the decreasing ghost population, or else he would just toss my news aside as his typical brother's "attention-seeking."
Trigve would never know about the condition of Ravendall's land himself; he's always too busy in his room, doing whatever kings are supposed to do these days. Every time I see him, he is buried in forms after pacts after treaties for hours on end. He really needs to find himself a wife fast, before he implodes from starvation, or crushes himself in paperwork.
I was on my way to the weekend business with Guðmundr. Boy, I really wish he left his home at times; the path I walked on was intended for dwarves, and it showed. The sun was being extra cheerful today, shining so brightly it penetrated the usual cool shades of the forest, replacing every color under the trees with an emerald monochrome. I sweated through my armor and heavy as I squeezed myself into tight and low places. I severely wished I could bring Applelsin here; he should be the one doing all the waking. Dwarves. They never bother to clear away tree branches higher than my belt level. I can't ride on horseback, and I'm carrying venison over my shoulder, for crying out loud.
So, as I hauled the fresh reindeer-
"Kristoff, would you please stop? I'm trying to read here."
"He'll never touch Sven. I'll be here to make sure he won't," Kristoff promised to himself.
"Adam's dead though," Anna pointed out.
"Enough, you two. Helge, please proceed."
-As I hauled fresh rein... venison, the heat and the thick branches threatening to smother me to death, I examined the trees on my right for a relatively small oak, one with a weak, gimpy lowermost branch. I scratched my name and an arrow in it months ago, to prevent me from forgetting the direction of Guðmundr's place. I don't really need such markings nowadays, but I've had some close calls where I nearly got lost recently; one can lose his footing if not always on guard in these woods, and I'm not interested in turning into something as depressing as a ghost. Gloomy things.
I followed the tangent formed by the arrow on the trunk. It did not actually point to an real pathway, because Guðmundr wasn't the kind of person to like being found.
Finally, I found myself in an open space completely free of trees. It was like a grass-filled crater, formed as if an entire, perfectly circular patch of forest was scooped out with a utensil. It's a relatively small pocket, but the temperature was always comfortable, the grass is softer than the finest feather-downs, and the wind creates the most soothing of melodies as they pass through the canopy of trees.
A lonely ash tree, paradoxically the size of a man, and older than the entire forest, stood at the very center of this opening, with a round patch of dark earth resting besides it. I sat in front of the ash, and dropped the meat to the ground.
"Hey, Treeshield, you up yet?"
"Treeshield?" Kristoff asked sceptically.
"Oh right, It is a rather strange word." Elsa answered. "...Father said it was a nickname."
"Hey Elsa? Loving the ice, but be careful." Anna said gently.
At first , there was no response. I looked left and right, and gently rapped once on the trunk. I kept my eyes peeled for anything around me. The guardian doesn't mind that sort of thing himself, the knocking, but I have enough of well-meaning faeries trying to protect their warden. Stupid little buggers with their pine pins.
Still no response from the old geezer. I sighed, and went to work. I dug a pit out of the patch of open earth, leaving the black soil aside in a pile. I stood up hacked off a limb from the ash with my sword, and looked at the stump remaining behind. I whistled low; it never failed to impress me whenever I see a bud sprout out instantly; this ash was the resting place for a Landvættir. The cut arm should be back in full size before my next visit.
Something tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around, partially drawing out my sword. I stumbled backward, trying to get a good footing so I can attack properly. My back hit the ash, and I was faced with the forest guardian himself.
He had the face only his mother could love, if he ever had one-
"Do they have mothers?" Anna piped up.
"Anna." Elsa said, exasperated.
"Maybe they only have dads! I wonder how is that supposed to work..." Olaf's voice trailed off, and he scratched his head, puzzled.
"Frankly, I've never met one myself. You should go find out." Helge lightly suggested.
-It was as twisted an gnarled as a piece of old driftwood, full of wrinkles and swirls that turned towards odd directions infinitely. They wrapped around his facial features and nose, twisting their way down his neck, and the rest of his hobbled body. Parts of his skin was covered in lichen, imitating liver spots. A wisp of dried, brown, hair-like substance hung from his chipped chin like a goatee, but in reality was just piece of moss. He had nothing else on him, not even a toupee made of grass. Instead, he possessed a dome, but he didn't have a smooth and shiny human pate. The thing was as gnarled and jagged as the rest of his body. His arms and shoulders looked no better than his face, and small stumps of what could have been branches stuck out like sore thumbs.
Overall, he didn't look like someone you'd hug, for fear of getting splinters.
I hugged him anyway.
The snowman came over to Elsa's side, his stick arms spread wide. "You are magical yourself, being a Snow Queen and everything, but at least I think you are huggable."
Elsa couldn't help but smile at his cheerful sincerity.
"Why do you always have to vandalize my home, Adam?"
"Quiet. You enjoy the smell of charcoal anyways, boss." I split the branch into smaller pieces with my knife, and arranged them into a tidy pile on the circular pit of dirt. I took out my flint, and turned towards him. "A little help?"
The Landvættir huffed a little. "What happened to you months ago when I first met you, crawling desperately on your belly? You were so courteous. Humans, these days..." Still, he snapped his fingers.
I struck the flint once, sending a couple of sparks onto the woodpile. It burst into flames instantaneously, as wild and as intense as a compact forest fire.
"Fires don't work like that, right? Kristoff?" Anna asked, looking up to him.
"Not with fresh wood like that. Must've been magic." Kristoff replied evenly.
As I waited for the wood to be converted into charcoal, I skinned the reinde- "sigh" venison, and separated the desired meat from its innards. I buried the organs beneath the ground, nearby the ash tree, and stuck a large chunk on a spit. I sprinkled a bit of seasoning that was stored in a pouch just for these occasions. The smell of the venison, combined with the herbs and wood of the ash... absolutely amazing.
The Landvættir sat at the base of his tree, watching the fire with patient eyes. To an outsider with no knowledge of his resting spot, he would have appeared as a particularly overgrown root, a tumor attached to the ash.
I poked the meat, and took it from the stand. I inhaled, taking in the rich aroma, before biting down on the roasted venison.
I swear to you, this flavor only improves with every bite. The juices and the fat melted on my tongue, sending waves of pleasure down to my stomach. Hearty flavors settled into my stomach, and I haven't even swallowed yet. Every visit to ol' Guðmundr always began like this for the last half a year. For a moment, I stopped thinking about how tedious he could be at time.
I gestured to the Landvættir with the meat. "You want 'un, Treeshield?"
The guardian, his voice always as dry as the rest of his wrinkly body, responded, "You know I have no use for those things."
"Alright," I said in mock surrender. "Suit yourself." I finished the rest of the reindeer.
"You said it."
Satisfied, I laid on my back, and watched the leaves rustle in the summer breeze. I drew a flagon from my pack, and poured myself a cup. I downed the thing in one go, feeling a sweet, burning sensation wash down my tongue and settle in my stomach, delicious and strong. My throat tingled pleasantly, as I walked over to pour a little on the ash bark itself.
The Landvættir's eyes twinkled a little. "Mead, this time?"
Wait, what? He's seventeen, and he could drink something like that!?" Anna blurted out. "If he can, why can't I?"
"Anna," Elsa retorted, "you know why I cannot have you nearby anything stronger than the chocolate fondue."
"But Elsa..." Anna whined.
And I'm suspecting even fondue is too much for you," Elsa said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"What!?" Anna shouted, horrified.
"Complain again, and I will tell your boyfriend here about the last time you were tipsy."
Kristoff raised a hand. "Hang on, I'm interested..."
"Kristoff!" Anna exclaimed.
Helge looked up from the book once more. "Can we get back to the story?" he interrupted.
"Yep. Nicked from my brother's storage." I swigged a little more from the bottle, watching the trees dance in the summer breeze with appreciation. "I look forward to fall season a few weeks from now. When the leaves change color."
Guðmundr pursed his lips. "Maybe I'll have you paint the leaves when the time comes, Adam."
"That... actually sounds pretty nice." I sat up. "So, what's today's work, Guðmundr?"
The spirit crinkled his eyes, the closest expression he ever had to a smile. "A land Draugr decided to settle in the lower West Banks. Care to clear it out for me?"
I groaned, full of the meat, the mead, and his demands. "I swear, Treeshield." I pointed an accusing finger at him. "You know what, I think you are just trying to kill me sometimes." I buried the cinders in the fire pit with the dirt, so the burnt wood was one with Guðmundr again. The Landvættir sighed with appreciation.
"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you..." I grumbled.
Page 66: Too exhausted to write: guy was a Draugr for a reason. I smell. Tired of the King's inanity. I'm going to sleep."
"For an "Adventurer," he sure does complain a lot," Anna remarked.
"So what, he's technically that forest guardian's errand boy?" Kristoff asked.
"Not necessarily an "errand boy", Kristoff, but the description is apt enough. Apparently, that was how he managed to survive in the woods for so long. Protection for services. It just so happened that Adam the Adventurer made a powerful ally." Helge explained.
Kristoff nodded. "Let's move on, I wanna hear more."
"Good to know someone appreciates history." Helge responded.
Page 67: I met a boy today.
Kristoff raised a finger, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Wait for it..."
No, that didn't sound too special at first thought for me, either. Children are rare in the forest, thankfully, but I would meet the occasional one. They were always happy to see others, blissfully unaware about their own demise.
"I knew it. From mundane to creepy in four sentences." Kristoff said accusingly.
"Kristoff!" Anna giggled.
At times, they can be mistaken for dancing elves, even in solitude. They were... I can't say happy, that would be absolutely monstrous of me. But, they were easier to approach and inform than their... adult counterparts. They can move on to the Great Beyond incredibly easily, their hearts not yet weighed by years of regret and anger.
Which is why I was alarmed to find this boy, alive.
I first found him swimming out of a riverbank, deep in the dark shade of the forest, shaking his head and wiping water from of his eyes.
I've never seen anyone like him; he must have been sick at some point, as his wet hair, plastered to his skin, was grayed severely. I took him for an older man, until he swam to the other side of the river, showing a backside that had no pockmarks, and no wrinkles. He was very short, and possessed only the clothes on his back, if they could even be considered clothes anymore. His outfit consisted of rags that was more clumsy patchwork than fabric.
I heard him yell in frustration. The child's voice cracked in three different parts as he said something unintelligible.
Why would a boy be in Ravendall, all alone, and outside of the human safe routes?
Even still, how did a boy end up this deep into the Lost Woods, alive and breathing?
I would have approached him out of concern, even if it wasn't Guðmundr who first alerted me to the boy's presence. As he was putting on his tunic, I called him out from the other side of the river.
"Excuse me, boy," I said. "This a very dangerous place! Don't you have a family to go back to?"
The boy took one look at me, his pale eyes stunned, and scrambled to flee.
I looked down at myself, seeing my sword in my hand. I had been using it to clear paths and obstructive branches. Blasted fool, I thought. The child must have thought I was going to kill him.
"Wait, I'm just trying to help you, come back!"
Not even bothering to sheathe my sword, I dove into the water. In spite of all of the heavier equipment on me, I managed to swim across with remarkable speed. My leather padding sopping wet, I chased after the child.
The boy left tracks in his path that were easy to identify; footprints, broken twigs, disturbed bushes, the works. Within seconds, I saw a streak of storm-grey hair that bounced in its own wind. The child turned around, seeing me in hot pursuit, and inexplicably pumped his legs even faster. He sped by a battered oak tree covered in a multitude of deep gouges, lifting leaves off their resting spots with his drift.
My blood ran cold at the very sight of the scarred tree.
"Wait!" I screamed desperately, "don't go anywhere further! Just..."
It was too late. An ear-splitting noise, deep and powerful as the thunder in the skies, shook the ground beneath me. I doubled my speed, cursing the entire situation. The boy had gone and attracted the attention of a bear.
It was a monstrous thing; its shadowed pelt covered thick rolls of pure muscle and fat, and it's teeth gleamed in the sunlight, yellowed and surgically pointed for death. Its ears were tucked low, its claws were unsheathed, and the bear stared down at the source of his anger, dead in the eye. It knew it was king of this territory, the top of the food chain, and he wasn't letting some scrappy kid, paralyzed by the power it emitted, challenge its authority. It leaned its thick limbs backwards for a pounce.
It was going to kill the child.
"What have you done, boy?" I shouted, as I brandished my sword. I swung at its side, and the bear grunted in surprise, now aware of a new challenger.
It was more nimble than I expected it to be. I thought I had struck a hit, but the only thing my sword had split was empty air. The bear hopped sideways to avoid the blow, and roared at me as well. Spittle flew rabidly from his mouth, scattering everywhere in front of him, and I could smell the awful stench of the bear's halitosis. Covered in bear saliva, I grabbed the scared child and shook him, seething. "I wasn't going to hurt you, unlike fuzzyhead over here."
"I just panicked!" The boy squealed, his face completely colorless. "I thought you were going to kill me!"
Kill you?
Ah. The sword.
The ground shook as hundreds of kilograms stomped over and over again, knocking over undergrowth and kicking up leaves that parted like a spray of water.
"Bear!"
Less questions, more bear-fighting. I threw his small body as far away from me as possible, and leaped back. A brown shade of lightning zoomed by, its tailwind threatening to knock me off my feet. In that moment, I was close enough to feel its coarse fur lightly caress my nose, its musk threatening to overwhelm me with its concentration.
Trying not to imagine what would happen had I been a millimeter closer, I screamed and charged while its back was against me. I tried analyzing the situation, hoping it would lead to an answer that would not leave me or the child in ragged pieces.
Bears, contrary to most pub stories, are actually rational beasts. Sure, they don't seem to have any laws governing them, and Mother Nature gave bears one too many gifts for them to be easily enforced. Big build, sharp teeth, powerful muscles, sharp teeth, daggers for claws, thick hide, sharp teeth, and sharp teeth. If they want to eat, they will eat. If they want to kill, they will kill.
At least a year under Guðmundr taught me differently; Bears are easy to terrify. I've learned to run off bears several times by just waving my cape. I've even seen one run away at the sight of an indifferent forest cat.
It was the middle of the summer time, with plenty of food available, and this bear looked too well off to be anywhere close to starving. If it was merely startled by the boy, I will just have to scare the beast back into running away. Easier said than done, but it's a neater option than trying to kill the thing. I won't be able to protect the child, and I can't guarantee that I will make it out alive, either.
The bear opened its mouth to reveal wide jaws, great vices that would easily crush both me and the boy's head together in a grip. It would be like pressing apples together in a mill.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
The bear moved one of its powerful arms in a blur, and struck me. My sword slipped from my fingers, and I flew sideways, unable to know when my feet will touch the ground again. My back and head slammed into a tree, and I nearly blacked out. My cranium rang like a bell, my wits completely dulled and disoriented. In hindsight, the head injury must have saved me from the agony my back was certainly experiencing.
Check for wounds.
The first thing I did upon mental revival was feel for my chest. I poked into the cut leather with trembling fingers, terrified of any other damages the bear could have done.
My finger touched several links of chains underneath my tunic. Small sections had been torn loose and bent. I concluded that the bear's claws had snagged onto my chainmail. So, instead of being filleted like a prepared fish, I just took a surprise flight trip several meters away. I leaned my head on the forest floor with a deep sigh, relieved that I was mostly unhurt.
Then the ground quaked, as more than half a ton of angry bear stormed toward me.
Of course it had to go after me, at this moment. Stupid, stupid Adam.
It displayed its powerful jaws once more, ready to kill me for daring to confront it. As it sped forward, I gave a world-weary sigh, unable to tell myself to run away. Why bother, when it will easily catch up and shred me to bits? Its hideous mug was only a few centimeters away...
I heard yelling, sharp and cacophonic, from a distance. The bear focused its beady black eyes elsewhere, and I followed suit. There the grey-haired boy was, waving a fallen tree branch, with fresh green leaves still attached, as if it was a flag. He was shouting his voice hoarse without a care in the world.
I thought he had lost his mind. The entire point for me intervening with this creature was because I did not want a dying child in my conscience. Here he was, drawing attention to himself like a freshly cooked steak on a platter, desperately ringing a silver bell while crying "Eat me!" If I didn't know better, I'd say he-
My numbskull brain finally sorted itself out at full capacity; he was buying me time. I wiggled my toes first, and then the rest of my legs. Their muscles were burning and aching something fierce, and I wheezed in pain and fatigue. Slowly, I slipped right between the bear's open mouth, and made a dash for safer grounds once I was a fair distance away. The bear mercifully noticed little, only grunting in confusion at the child.
The boy continued to holler, and pointed his branch to a side briefly before waving it again. I followed his direction, and found my sword gleaming, even in the shade of the Lost Woods, stuck to the hilt in a thick tree. Blasted piece of metal, trying to imitate Excalibur. It wasn't even standing upwards.
I wrapped my hands around the handle, and pulled the sword out like a hot knife through butter, leaving a clean gash in the tree's bark.
"Wait, is the sword is special?" Anna asked.
Helge tilted his head upwards to the Princess. "I wouldn't be surprised."
So if this Prince Adam really became King of Arendelle, how come I never found a cool three-hundred-year old sword lying around in the castle? We just have a bunch of props!
Kristoff smirked. "Because I shudder to think about what you would do with such a thing, feistypants."
"Hey!"
In one smooth motion, I slashed at the bear while its back was turned. The bear howled in terror, and turned around to see that I have wounded its rump, a small mixture of dark hair and blood dripping from its edge. A backside for a backside.
The bear bore its teeth at me, its black eyes following the light of my blade. I prepared myself for a mauling; despite the sword's abilities, it was just an oversized bread knife to this animal's furry and fat butt.
The bear shook the earth as it howled once more. He sounded... high-pitched, for a bear at least. and I raised my head to see that the grey-haired boy had stabbed the bear with his branch, applying all of his weight into the strike. He thrust repeatedly, ramming himself against the beast every time, each jab earning the bear's whimper for its efforts, as he ran over to my side. Evidently forgetting he was supposed to be paranoid of me, he continued to yell incoherently and waving the branch, its end stained with blood. I joined him with my own bellows, raising my dripping sword high in the air.
The mighty bear, finally realizing we were worth too much trouble, turned tail and ran.
Page 68: I breathed a sigh of relief, and sagged on top of a pile of leaves, my equipment clinking noisily. I gingerly touched my back, feeling a sour pulse of pain in reaction to my touch. Nothing too serious, but it would make for an impressive bruise when I get back home. Still, I smiled at the fleeing creature making rolling echoes in the distance, now barely visible among the trees. It wouldn't return here for a while.
I didn't want to fight the bear to the death. The end result would have either end up having the boy killed, or me too weak to protect him any further. I sheathed my sword, and turned to the boy, who stared at me with fright. He didn't run this time, at least. He owed me that much.
"He seems nice." Olaf commented.
Kristoff scowled. "He eats reindeer."
"Kristoff, I think you should just let it go."
"Coming from you, Olaf..."
I cleared my throat, and assumed the most regal stance a man with back pain can offer. "My name -ach- is Prince Adam of Ravendall, and you are a complete fool for running away from me. If I haven't decided to pursue you, you would have just been one more ghost in these woods."
"I-I'm sorry," the boy said meekly, his filthy grey hair drooping as low as his demeanor. He flicked his eyes to my scabbard. "Is it okay if I tell you my name as well?"
I blinked twice. What kind of question was that? "I don't see why you shouldn't."
The boy inhaled, and stuck out an arm. "My name's Algar."
Anna frowned. "Algar? What kind of name is that?"
"It's a rare one. It originated from what I believe is what you folks call England." Helge answered.
Elsa thought of a distant land mass, located at the far end of the North Sea. "What would a boy from England do to end up in a country as far as Norway, much less Ravendall?"
"Good question, Elsa. Maybe's he's a lost prince?"
"Let's find out." Olaf suggested.
"My name's Algar."
"Where are your parents?"
He replied, rushed and clipped. "They aren't around."
"Well, Algar, I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but my aching back is saying otherwise. What on earth are you doing here?"
"I-I-I don't know," he stammered, dropping his tree branch. "I just hear this place has very little people."
I don't believe it; I found myself a wannabe hermit. Bad choice to stay, kid.
Algar's voice gained some strength. "What are YOU doing here?"
"I have a friend who told me of someone disturbing these parts. Didn't know it was a kid as young as you here." Naturally, it wasn't Guðmundr's job to care; I had to pick up the slack for him.
"Hey, I'm not a kid, okay? I'll have you know that I am fifteen!"
"Seriously? Only two years younger than me?" I poked him in the bony arms. "You're pretty scrawny for your age..."
"Oh!" The boy blushed furiously out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry for troubling you, then. I-I'll just be away from your sight, and never annoy you again…"
"Wait, Algar!"
Please, just go away! I don't want you to get hurt!"
Yep. Either he was lying about his age, or he was cursed to retain a perpetually waifish figure. If he were older, he would still look like an orphan boy, tossed on the streets.
"You can't just go running off again, you know?" I should have been treating him with more respect, considering the small age gap, but his behavior is akin to that of a jumpy child. "You'll only end up as food for something worse than a bear. Perhaps a giant, even!"
The boy's eyes widened. " A gia-" He coughed, and tucked his hands beneath his armpits. "But... I think it's best if you don't trouble me. This is my fifth day staying here. I can handle myself."
Something grumbled with a deep bass. I looked around in curiosity, certain that it wasn't a bear this time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Algar reflexively feel for his stomach. "Indeed, you are so capable, you can go on forever without food."
I picked up the boy's fallen tree branch, still stained with a spot of ursine blood. I drew a simple hunting knife from my belt, nothing special about it. "We've got no pole, but there is a lake nearby, with plenty to catch." I began cutting out errant twigs and leaves, intending to make a decent pole out of the branch. "I can at least teach you how to spearfish, then drop you off out of this forest. The last thing I need is to explain to myself why I left a kid to die in the wilderness."
"But-"
"Quiet, you. I'm being very generous for a prince here. Once I get you out of here, you can go on to live your dream as a hermit."
"A hermi-" I glared at the boy before he finished. His shoulders sagged with defeat. "Well…" Algar looked all around him, not particularly focused anywhere. "I suppose I could learn."
I grinned victoriously. "Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish…"
"...And he'll eat for a lifetime," Algar mumbled quietly.
Alright, now I definitely have to help him.
"Aw, Adam's actually sweet! He sounds just like you, sis!" Anna grinned up at Elsa.
"I-I don't see the connection."
"He cares and helps people, even if he doesn't show it all the time."
"R-really..." Elsa said, slightly flustered.
"Yeah! Didn't you shut yourself out and kind of accidently freeze summer because you wanted to protect Arendelle?"
"Olaf..." Kristoff warned.
"Oh... I'm so sorry, Elsa. You can make it stop snowing now. You don't need to protect us anymore. We're happy and safe now, especially you!"
"...I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you."
Olaf beamed. "Wonderful! To celebrate everyone being happy, I'll go get some mugs of warm milk!"
Elsa smiled at the little snowman. There was nothing that needs forgiving. "Okay. Just don't go drinking the stuff yourself, Olaf."
"Don't forget cocoa on mine!" Anna called after him. She glanced at her sister. "Oh, put some in Elsa's too!"
Page 69: The boy was indeed intelligent. He watched me with attentive eyes, full of a hunger for knowledge that the I myself wished I could express to my tutors, and maybe Trigve. He made sure to follow my deft movements with his new makeshift spear, practicing the motions over and over, until there was hardly a lack of clumsiness.
Within just half an hour, Algar had caught his first fish, a beautiful silver thing that was plump and juicy. Elated with his success, he nearly dropped the fish back into the lake by forgetting to hold onto it tightly. He was so full of excitement and pride, he could barely stand still as he watch me clean our catch. I showed him how to gut, to pull out gills, and to make a spit.
Throughout the entire lesson, he smiled, beaming brighter than the sun.
It looked good on him.
I laid some wood I picked from the forest floor, and tossed them to a pit I dug out. I pulled a flint from my pouch.
"Shouldn't we get some fuel to get the fire started first?" Algar looked at my belongings, perplexed. "You don't look like you have cotton on you. Hey, you can use a bit of my shirt-"
I laughed, saying, "Keep your shirt on, Algar. I have little fascination in a person like you!"
"W-what? What kind of answer is that?"
"Nothing, I'm just teasing you." I muttered a gentle word under my breath. "This wood should be more than enough to keep the fire going."
I struck my flint once, sending a single spark that landed on the pit. A great fire came forth, as intense as if it had been burning for hours on oil. Algar watched me in awe. "H-How did you do that?"
"I've got friends on the other side."
"You're a witch?"
The atmosphere suddenly became heavy. A summer birdsong was the only thing that was sharp enough to pierce the blanket of silence. The boy clasped his mouth, horrified at what he had done. My fingers felt for the pommel of my sword, and I was cautious of what to say next.
"That's a strange word, coming at me, coming from you."
"I'm sorry," he apologized. I relaxed myself, slipping my fingers away from the blade. Blasted, forest-induced paranoia. "It's just... these past five days, I saw so many magical happenings that still felt like dreams, and then you came along and save my life, and there's that thing that you did with the fire? You just seemed so relaxed in this place, you know? I was hardly able to survive, and you knew everything and how, despite not being a country man, but royalty! And, and-"
I cut off his rambling with a swipe of my hand. "Don't worry, I'm no witch." I pondered on the subject for a bit, entertaining a little fantasy about someone more powerful replacing me for ol' Guðmundr's services. "I would like to meet one, though. It could get a load of work off of my back."
"...It must be nice to make and have friends..."
"You mean you've never had one?" He's just another kid, like the lonelier ones back at town who were the happiest to see me. Probably because I talked to them.
We spent the rest of the time talking about my (mis)adventures in Ravendall's Woods. I told him of the elf that slapped me so hard, I skipped like a stone on the lake surface, and the many times where I tried to comfort some ghosts so they would stop overcrowding the trees. I even described some of the messier stuff I had to do for pest control, such as chasing off a Fenrir. My back was feeling much better itself, with some roasted fish fueling its recovery.
It wasn't until we began packing up for the trip out did I approach the boy's hermit status. "So, why don't you hang around people?"
"I just don't..."
"Hm?"
"It's hardly worth the trouble."
It was getting late, and just convincing Algar to chat before was difficult enough. I raised my hands in a surrendering gesture. "Alright, alright. I won't ask... But seriously, it's not great to be alone forever."
What? I had to have my way somehow.
"I mean, look at my brother. He never spends time anywhere, just staying in the stuffy old castle, talking in various languages that all mean the same thing: work. He doesn't have any real friends to hang out with.
"That's why he gets on my case a lot, and hates that I don't listen to him. Every time I run off to the Lost Woods, the man does nothing but alternate between a worrywart and a workaholic. I have to prepare for a vocal whipping whenever I come home. What I say sounds foolish to him, and what he says sounds dull and trite. Trigve is beginning to fuss just as much as Mother did."
Mother. I paused myself, sobered.
What was it like, to overwork yourself day and night, with little rest? What was it like, to have no one to confide to after a long day, to have no one to feel secure with?
What was it like, to have only one family member who you can no longer connect to?
Algar and I walked on a path, one that I had discovered in my first week as Guðmundr's help, much to the delight of Ravendall's traders.
This road, one of several, contained the least amount of threats that prey on humans. They aren't perfect, especially as of recently, but paths like these cut straight through the woods with as little trouble as possible, saving hours of time. It wasn't long before we found ourselves outside, the mass of trees standing behind us. Ahead of the us were clear skies and open fields, serene and secure. The sun was beginning its daily dip down into the horizon.
The young man should do well from here. "You sure you'll be alright?"
Algar, the grey-haired boy, nodded. "Yeah. I've said it before. I can handle myself."
"Take care, then." I watched Algar as he hiked towards the open horizon, his dark silhouette contrasting against the fiery sky and grass. He could hardly take more than a few steps before I spoke to him again.
"Say... You're a little low on friends aren't you?"
The boy stopped and turned on his feet, but remained silent.
"How about I have the honor of being your first friend, Algar?"
"R-really?"
"Come on, kid," I drawled, ribbing him. "A Prince walks up to you to ask for friendship? Lesser folks would have given half a leg for such a privilege. You should be leaping with joy right now." I dropped the act, my voice sincere. "We had fun with each other, didn't we?"
"I guess..."
"Atta boy. If the hermit life no longer suits you, just find others like me. You'll be making some good companions pretty quickly!"
"I don't think most people are princes."
"Someone who feels like me," I amended. Smart-aleck.
"What if..." He paused, slightly losing his composure. "What if... I want to see you again someday?"
Huh.
"I don't really know," I admitted. "Hopefully not in these woods, that's for sure. I'm sure we'll find each other somehow. You have a Prince's promise."
We stared at each other with straight faces. Then, we couldn't help ourselves. We broke into belly-aching laughter that rolled throughout the hallowed and haunted grounds. We saw it in each other's eyes; there was no chance in Hel of us ever seeing each other again. This is the fork in the road, and our brief meeting together was splitting apart into opposite directions.
That's fine with me.
"I'm being genuine about the 'friends' thing, though," I reaffirmed him.
"I know." Laughter still danced in the young man's eyes, truly happy for this eventful day. "Goodbye, Prince Adam of Ravendall."
"Farewell, and safe travels, Algar!"
"Helge, were you able to find the journal entry we were looking for?
Helge frowned, flipping past pages. "I hope we will soon, at least. This isn't the right date at all. I think I'm a few weeks away from the actual event, as of now." He raised his head to the blond man. "You seemed rushed, Kristoff."
"That would be because two of my friends were never raised by trolls." He gestured his head at the Royal Sisters.
Helge craned his stub of a neck to look. Indeed, Elsa was developing dark bruises under her eyes, and her posture was extra rigid and proper. She had been using her skills as a queen, normally limited to the boring political councils that would last for hours of useless debates on end with neither agreements nor compromises, to maintain consciousness. Nevertheless, several hours into the night had worn her regal disposition down, until she fought to keep her wavering eyelids open.
At Kristoff's mention of the word "friend," Elsa perked up, noticing the two observing her, and flitted her eyes between them, her cheeks pink. The air dropped a degree or two, but it was hardly evident.
Anna meanwhile, long ago had one foot in the land of dreams already. Her face appeared lively enough, but she would nod off, tilting her freckled head downwards every few seconds. Once her dainty chin touching her chest, she would spring awake with start, eyes wide, pigtails swinging, and freckles rendered nearly invisible, only to repeat the process once more. It would have been easier if she had decided to just pass out instead.
After just eight seconds, the Princess agreed with the sentiment. Completely out cold, her head flopped onto the table like a sack of snoring cabbages, startling poor Helge into falling off. A trail of saliva dribbled from her mouth, and onto the polished wood.
Kristoff was about to lean forward and wipe Anna's freckled cheeks and open mouth with a strong hand, but then became aware that her sister, his Queen, was sitting right in front of him.
Even after three weeks of living together, they hardly saw each other face-to-face; Elsa made sure to always retain enough time to spend with her sister daily, but buried herself in her private study in almost any other occasion. The mountain man would be ashamed to admit that he would prefer it this way.
It's not that Kristoff hated Elsa; he learned to love her almost as much as Anna does. In reality, he kept his distance out of doubt; he felt slightly guilty for being Anna's boyfriend, when Elsa literally owed her a lifetime of happiness together. Was Kristoff being a thief, for forcing Elsa to share Anna's precious love? Was he stealing Anna away from the sister who clearly craves Anna's affection more?
The Snow Queen's blue eyes, despite being the same shade as his loving girlfriend's, pierced his heart like sharp icicles.
He raised his hand towards Anna in hesitation, and found his confidence lacking. He tried again, but the Queen's curious stare was pushing him away from the Princess. He sighed, and settled for shaking the lady's shoulders gently.
Anna opened one eye lazily, the corners of her lips stretching from ear to ear upon seeing her boyfriend. Kristoff was nearly forced to look away from her radiance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Queen gazing at Anna, now completely relaxed and healthy-looking, a loving smile on her own face.
Yet another difference between us two, he thought bitterly.
Helge finally crawled back onto the desk. "Everyone's wide awake and conscious now?"
"Yes, yes! I am very much awake, thank you! I am so, totally awake!" Anna piped. She wiped at her lips with her sleeve, and, with some disgust, rubbed the puddle of drool she left behind on the desk.
Helge laughed deeply, saying, "Since you guys have unfortunately not learned to become nocturnal yet, I suppose I would just have to rush through these journal entries until we find the right one, before you three expire from sleep deprivation."
"Sounds like a plan." Anna said, stifling a yawn.
He circled one page with a finger, muttering to himself ways to paraphrase. Helge would have to, because he will not be available during daylight, and Arendelle is constrained for time.
"Page 70: He chased a bandit named Holger into the forest one day. Holger was very infamous for pilfering homes and attacking innocents in Ravendall, and carried a spear that he claimed was made by the denizens of Hel. Overall, he wasn't too stable. Holger didn't see where he was going, ignoring Adam's requests to stop. He fell down a cliff to his doom before Adam can save him. The Prince locked himself in his room afterwards for hours, ignoring Trigve's reasoning that the man would have been executed anyway."
"Do the two brothers reconcile?" Elsa asked quietly.
"It doesn't say...
"Page 73: He was hunting a stag when he was approached by a black dog, about the size of a pony. Despite its mass was very friendly towards him, and only watched as Adam shot the deer down. Adam started telling it stories as he had always done, idly realizing the dog understood his language. They make a detour to the Lonely Ash Tree. The Landvættir was not amused to see the dog when it saw the two gnawing on some roast rib; Guðmundr waved a hand, and the dog's true form briefly rippled from its apparent body. The dog was revealed to be a Flygia in disguise."
Kristoff was slightly curious about this creature. "A Flygia?"
"Shapeshifter, follows one with good luck."
"Well, Adam is pretty lucky, from what we've heard," Anna reasoned. "It would make sense, I guess."
"They could also signify a 'change in luck.'
The library was silent in response to this statement.
"Guðmundr said the same thing to Adam, warning him to be careful. Adam heads out to leave, trying to shoo the Flygia away. The faux-dog continued to follow him, until it stopped at the very end of the forest, watching Adam make his way home.
"Page 75: Adam is working on consoling this one new ghost, Kjellfrid. She had..."
The troll's voice trailed off, leading to a very pregnant pause.
"What's wrong, Helge?" Kristoff asked.
The troll narrowed his eyes, his brows dangerously close to meeting each other. "I found it," he said quietly.
He looked up at the mountain man and the Royal Sisters. "This should hopefully be accurate to how we will expect the Spøkelse to attack." He lowered his voice. "Would you like me to paraphrase this part as well, or read it in full?"
Something did not seem right about that sentence. The answer should be obvious. But Anna, in a rare moment of consideration before speaking, decided that it must be elaborated. "Wait, what? Why is that even an option?"
"Because..." Helge hesitated. "Milady, knowledge can be horrifying at times. Five years under Grand Pabbie's tutelage has granted me nightmares and dark thoughts that required the entire Valley's support to crawl myself out of." He stared off into space and shuddered at some, distant memory that he had come to term with at one point. "I will not speak of them now, for the night is dark enough as it is. I have no wish to trouble your minds at this late hour, especially as we read the last pages of Adam the Adventurer's journal. If the late King had ever told you this part of the tale, he would have been wise enough to hold back information.
"What is written in this journal may have you three lose whatever capacity you had for sleeping, at least until the Spøkelse is finally rid of once and for all. You will fear, become paranoid of any hint that may lead a possible coming. Every step, every odd lighting, even simple thoughts, you will suspect them of the demon's influence. Prince Adam turned mad when still resting in Ravendall for a reason."
He breathed deeply, and faced the queen directly. "After what I have just told you, I would like to ask once more: Do you still want the full story?"
Helge knew Elsa was endowed with great human spirit within her, just like the rest of her expanded family. The outburst in the stables was more than proof enough. However, she was brittle as thin ice, and behaved ever-so meek and tentative since Helge's acquaintance; there was something restricting within her, an internally raging storm that Grand Pabbie had feared would snuff whatever hope Elsa could muster to bring forth.
So, when she abruptly stood up from her chair and slammed her hands on the table, the troll saw a white flame licking within her icy blue eyes, impassioned, terrific, and beautiful, threatening to break free. Her face was set, her dark brows arched downwards steeply, and Helge finally saw the Queen of Arendelle within Elsa.
There is hope against the Spøkelse of Ravendall, after all.
Anna leaned closer to her sister. "Elsa..."
"I want to listen to every detail," the queen said, with conviction. "As Queen, I have to know."
If what Helge said was true, and her kingdom is in grave danger, Elsa must have a full comprehension of what Arendelle will be up against. She had firsthand experience of the dangers of what a simple misinterpretation, a message lost in passing, can do.
It cost Elsa's beautiful kingdom a monarch equally fit to rule it. It cost her parents their lives and legacy. It nearly cost her Anna.
"This will be for the kingdom's protection. If I will suffer sleepless nights or a fate worse than death, so be it." Shards of ice, glittering with a fire like diamonds, sprouted between Elsa's fingertips. They were not products of her fears and anxieties now, but a manifestation of her revealed resolve. "I will not have my people harmed by any threats so long as I'm in reign."
I will not lose my people. I will not lose my family again.
That is a Queen's promise.
So anyway, everyone give a massive applause to FrozenRose1, who had done an outstanding job already as an editor with this chapter. She was able to turn my fanfic into something that was up to snuff, rather than just an amateur work with promise.
I'm also massively grateful for what she has done with the in-between storytime dialogue. You know, the ones that were italicized. No, she didn't actually write the talking, but FrozenRose1 pointed out that there needed to be actual dialogue markings, rather than just the words itself.
I thought I was being clever at the time, intending for you readers to guess who was talking to who, so I nearly shot myself in the foot that there.
So, I was grateful that she took the time to add the myriad of different ways to write "said." Flipping hotcakes, I could never come up with such terms that could feel fresh by myself. Rose, you saved me at least an hour of migraines.
I think that makes parts of this chapter hers. Credit where credit is due, right?
Once again, everyone give a cheer for FrozenRose1!
Like, fave, comment, or whatever. Let me know how well of an editing job did you think Rose has done compared to my previous writings, and/or what you think of this chapter. Don't forget to answer the question!
See you guys soon, Fans of Frozen.
