Well guys, I have good new and I have bad news.
The good news is, I was finally able to fix my Tumblr problem and the blog for this story is back up.
It's called, dearestelsafanfiction
The bad news is, I don't really have any other good news to share.
A steam train; it's not as loud inside of it as it is outside. The coplex system of wheels had spun in place along the tracks, leaving continuous thuds in its march. The steam from the front hissed, and a horn had blown.
Choo Choo
Traveling by train was the most common use of travel in Germany considering its advanced railway network. The passenger cars had two person wooden seats, not very similar to a classroom but a row was aligned to each wall.
Every other thud of the rail tracks had a bigger kick to it, Elsa being moved in her seat to it every time. Her mother wasted no time sending her to the city, for the news that reached the mainland said that the army was taking casualties already. The sanctums were going to need all the help they can get.
With her legs held tightly together in her seat, Elsa had a folded piece of paper resting between her palm and her lap. On the cover in cursive said, Hans. The first letter from Hans had gotten to her just before she left, yet she didn't bother checking it. She sat and stared at it for a moment, eventually putting it into her travel bag.
Elsa tried to clear her mind, listening only to the thuds of the tracks, and looking out at the passing country side out of the windows. But out the corner of her eye, she saw someone familiar. Her eyes focused in the direction of someone in front of her, past the other people, just the one blonde haired girl that sat with her back to Elsa on the other side. She was very familiar with that blonde hair, until her mind made out a face and name. It was Rapunzel von Kessler, one of Anna's friends. But why was she here? Was she going to the city to become a nurse just like her? But she was still only Anna's age.
Elsa didn't know her personally, but knew of her through Anna. She did know her lover though; Eugene. Elsa thought it was strange that a man at the age of 20 would be in love with a girl who was still in school. Speaking of which, Elsa doesn't remember seeing Eugene for quite a while, maybe he went off to the war. But the army didn't really seem to fit him…
Leuven, Belgium
August 28th
Eugene was stirred by the bumps in the road, he shaking to every pothole like everyone else. Suddenly the trucks had stopped, and all they could hear was the clicking of doors and sergeants ordering, "OUT!" He and all the others in the back had jumped out to see the sight of Leuven.
It was nothing.
The buildings had been blown apart, rubble usually standing it its place. A few dirty walls without windows were all that remained.
Hans adjusted the strap on his shoulder and held his rifle higher upon his shoulder, beginning to take a walk through with his squad while his eyes searched through the destroyed debris, trying to make out what the city looked like before. Boot stomps in the dusty street had alerted him and the other three, he looked like a very young man, yet unlike them, he had dirt caked to the skin on his face. He stopped in front of them, the four gathering around.
"You all just shipped in, huh?" He said. "Go and speak to Major Hoffman, he's expecting a combat patrol." The young man nodded and walked past them. The four looked at each other, then all focused on Arnold.
"Let's go," he said, making his way to the front. Kristoff, however, turned back and looked to the young man coated in dirt.
"Hey!" he called out, the young man turning to face him. "I thought there would be some fighting here."
"There was," the young man answered. "The Frenchies and Brits are on the retreat, and the Belgians are still putting up a resistance." The young man turned back to whatever he was doing. Kristoff adjusted his pickle helmet on his head, rubbing it around as if to scratch his scalp. When he turned and found out that the other three were further away from him, he sprang back to catch up.
Eventually they found the major, set up in a large tent in some field HQ in the middle of the square. They all at once clanked their boots together and stood at attention.
"Major Hoffman!" Arnold called. The Major was…short, shorter than all of them, almost like a midget. When he turned, he revealed an old wrinkly face behind a set of glasses and a white-grey mustache. The Major looked up at them, his hands behind his back.
"You're the ones that just came in?" He asked.
"Yes sir."
"Very good," he said, and then turned back to his table. "I need you all out patrolling the streets at once."
"Umm, sir?" Arnold piped.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Uhm, we were wondering if it's anywhere specific?"
"No!" Hoffman yelled, showing that he was clearly one for little patience. "Just go and do it." The four ignored his explosion and turned out the entrance, but Hans was stopped in place. "You, hold on for a minute." Hans stood back at attention as the Major approached. "I heard you were the best sharpshooter sent to me."
"Did they say that, sir?" Hans said, a smile hinting on his face yet he didn't show it.
"I may have use for you when we head to the frontline," Hoffman said.
"What would that be sir?"
"For what we know, the Belgians are trying to buy the retreating Allies some time to dig in," Hoffman explained. "For what I'm guessing, the snipers are going to be the ones to win this war."
For those who are wondering, Major Hoffman is supposed to be the Duke of Weselton.
