"What are their names?"
Olaf, feeling like he'd been at risk of missing too much while stuck in the rear compartment, had scrambled up the back of the driver's seat and dropped down between the two women. Though night had long since fallen, they had not yet stopped their northward march. Despite herself, Anna had eventually been unable to keep her eyes open any longer. Now she slept in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable position, propped up awkwardly in the corner between the bench and the side panel.
The winter sky was shockingly clear, with the panoply of stars overhead hardly seeming to twinkle. The snow reflected enough moonlight that the path ahead remained clearly visible, winding through the darkness like a silvered river. Olaf stood on the front edge of the bench, leaning forward with his hands on the dash panel. By that same light, he watched the two beasts that pulled them along with seemingly tireless strength.
"They have no names. At least none that we might speak. Our tongues are as ill-equipped to their language as they are to ours."
It wasn't that Olaf didn't recognize the predicament he and Anna had somehow gotten themselves into. He had seen everything that this strange woman had done back in the palace courtyard, so he knew what she was capable of. Somehow though, ever since he'd first said the word, he'd been unable to shake the notion of her as a grandmother of sorts. And since he really liked the family he had found so far in Arendelle, it seemed to him that making it bigger could only be a good thing.
After all, Elsa could be dangerous. So could his brother, Marshmallow. Even Anna could. He'd seen her hit Hans so hard, she'd sent him toppling backward off the deck of that boat. That didn't make any of them bad, did it? He still loved them, and they loved him. Surely there was room for one more in that circle, if they could just get to know one another a little better. Besides, she'd removed Anna's bindings, hadn't she? That had to be a good sign.
"But how do they know when you're talking to them if you don't give them names?"
"You do not know my name, and yet you're talking to me quite ably."
"Hey, yeah, why don't I know your name? You already know mine. I'm Olaf, and that's Anna. And you are…?"
"Far from home," she replied with a wry smirk. Then, so quickly that the little snowman could not be sure he'd really seen it in the dim light, a brief twinge of sadness flickered deep within her eyes. She glanced up at the sky, seemingly searching for something that might have been hidden in the spaces between the brilliant pinpoints. Eventually, her gaze returned to the road before them. "But I suppose you can call me the Snow Queen."
"Ooh, you're a queen, too? So how big is your kingdom? I hope we get to meet some of your people. I always like making new friends. I bet you have a fancy castle with lots of servants. Do you have a crown?"
She laughed quietly. "I do have a castle, but I live there alone. I claim neither servants nor subjects, apart from my animal friends. And I have never had any need for a crown."
Olaf thought about all of this, then asked, "What about a Snow King?"
"There is no king."
"Oh! So what's he like?"
"Who?"
"The Snow King!"
"There is no-" She stopped mid-sentence, this time hearing the sound of the words as she spoke them. She considered Olaf with obvious amusement. "I have no king either. As for my kingdom, it consists only of those lands around my palace that I guard and protect from intruders. Few have found reason to venture onto them uninvited, and I invite fewer still."
"So you have an entire kingdom all to yourself? That sounds lonely."
"It can be..."
Olaf waited for her to finish the sentence. The inflection on the last word suggested that she had not brought the thought to its full conclusion. But when time went by without further words, he decided to move on.
"Well, at least you have the bears for company."
She nodded. "Yes, and others besides. Though I do not open my home to many people, animals are another matter. Bears, birds, foxes, hares – all manner of arctic creatures. For the most part, I find them far more agreeable than the average human."
"I like animals too! One of my best friends is a reindeer, you know. His name is Sven, and he really likes carrots." He looked cross-eyed down his long nose, trying to see if there were any teeth marks present. "Sometimes a little too much."
"Ah, but that's part of the reason why I find animals such pleasant company. In a way, they possess a superior rationality. Once you understand what it is an animal wants, it is not difficult to predict how they will behave in any given situation. The rules that govern their actions are simple, sensible, even logical."
Olaf looked at the bears again. "Maybe," he said, his voice losing some of its usual buoyancy, "but then why did they have to attack Polla? She hadn't done anything to either of them. She was only protecting her friends."
"And so were they. The three of us have known each other for a very long time – long enough that they have come to associate me with my magical creations. I do not know what sense it is that allows them to make the connection, but when your Polla attacked my golem, they saw it as an attack upon me and so responded in kind. I am sorry. As another creation of Elsa's, I would have liked the chance to get to know her better."
"But the soldiers were only trying to protect Elsa, too. Why did you have to hurt them? I know they shot first, but they couldn't really have done anything to harm you, could they?"
"Not likely, but the fact remains that, had they been able to, they would most certainly have done so."
"Isn't that their job when the queen is in danger?"
"Oh, men have been coming up with reasons since the species was born. They were closer to nature then. At first, it was about survival. You kill what you need to eat, and you kill what is trying to eat you. It was a small step from there to using violence to protect your family, though even that was understandable.
"But then they started getting ideas. They began to create things, invent things, discover things. Then they saw the things that others had, and they wanted them too. How long do you think it took before someone decided that the easiest way to get those things was to take them by force? How long after that before they realized that certain things made the use of force even more effective? Mankind has loved its weapons ever since.
"They love them so dearly that it seems like they fear running out of reasons to use them. So, to ensure that never happens, they keep inventing new ones. Nations, religions, money, property – anything that can turn a would-be neighbor into a threat.
"The problem arises when those other people have weapons of their own, which suddenly makes attacking them a risky proposition. So why take that chance when you can target animals instead? Now the hunt is no longer limited just to food or self-defense. They seek the furs and the antlers and useless trophies to hang on their walls."
The Snow Queen's voice, which had started off mildly enough, had grown steadily more agitated while she'd been speaking. By this point, her nostrils were flaring in heated indignation. Whether or not Olaf picked up on this probably wouldn't have mattered, considering that his curiosity had latched onto one particular detail that demanded an explanation.
"But you're wearing fur right now."
"This? This is not fur." Reaching up to the collar of her long traveling cloak, she plucked a few strands from the trim and handed them to the snowman. Cradling them in his stick fingers, he held them up to one eye and examined them closely.
"Hmm. It looks like hair, but…" He gasped. "Is this ice?"
The Snow Queen smiled. "Nature can be an amazing inspiration, creating beauty in even the most unexpected of places. If you venture out into the woods on a damp night when the temperature is right around freezing, and if you look in the right places, you might find something very similar. It grows on dead and decaying branches, and is so incredibly fine and delicate that it usually melts as soon as the sun rises.
"Men use fur to shield them from the cold. I have no such need. In fact, I find the heat to be rather uncomfortable."
"Oh, I love heat!" Olaf interrupted. "It's the best. A warm fire, a tropical beach, the summer sun!"
That earned him a quizzical look. "But you are made of snow."
"Yeah, that's why I'm a snowman! Of course, I've never really understood that. I mean, firemen aren't made of fire, are they? Ooh, but wouldn't it be neat if they were? I bet a real fireman and I would just be the best of friends. We'd go everywhere together and have all sorts of fu-u-un." He sighed, a far off, dreamy look on his face.
"Yes, well… be that as it may. I've found trimming my cloak with hair ice to be most refreshing. It helps to keep me cool when I visit warmer climes, and it really feels quite pleasant against my skin."
"I don't have skin." Olaf's expression changed to one of distracted contemplation. "In fact, I'm beginning to think Elsa must have forgotten quite a few important bits when she made me."
"If I were you, I should be thankful. It is no great feat to be human. It's quite another matter to be something unique and extraordinary."
"Wow. For as much as you dislike people, you sure seem determined to get one of them to come and keep you company."
"Old habits, I'm afraid. Besides, Elsa is… different. She too is unique, and she carries within her the potential for true greatness. She simply does not realize this yet. That is what I seek to teach her. Left on her own, I fear she might never find it. With my help, however, she could do incredible things. Together, there is no limit to what the two of us might accomplish."
"And then, you might not have to be so lonely, either!"
The pause that followed spoke volumes, or at least it would have if Olaf hadn't been distracted at that moment by a glimpse of a startled ermine darting for cover as their sled drove past.
"Being alone is not the same as being lonely," the Snow Queen replied in a hushed voice.
"But if you have friends, then you don't have to be either! You do have friends, don't you?" He looked at her as though he could only conceive of one possible answer to that question.
"Aside from the animals? No, I do not."
Olaf might have been the only person in Arendelle more determined to make new friends than Princess Anna. So the idea of someone with no friends at all baffled him – almost as much as Elsa's love of books and for similar reasons. He couldn't read, nor could he ever quite keep from introducing himself to every new person he saw. After all, you never knew who might be interested in giving out a warm hug or two!
"I'm sorry," he chuckled in embarrassment. "It sounded for a second there like you said that you didn't have any friends. I must have misheard. Maybe it's because I don't have any ears. When we get back, I should ask Gerda for some cauliflower to go along with my carrot."
"I used to once." The Snow Queen seemed to be continuing her earlier statement rather than addressing Olaf's confusion. "A very long time ago. But they are all gone now."
"That's okay. You can make new friends! It's easy. I do it all the time." She didn't reply right away, but Olaf, always eager to help, jumped in to fill the gap. "If you don't remember how, I could show you."
"I remember," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "That is the problem. I remember all too well."
Before Olaf could respond, the sleigh's runners encountered a sharp bump of some sort, perhaps a stone or tree root hidden beneath the layer of snow. The jostling was enough to jerk Anna awake.
"Wha-? Where am I?" She sat up and looked around muzzily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. When her surroundings penetrated through the haze of interrupted dreams, she shuddered. Drawing back into the corner again, she eyed her captor warily.
"It's okay, Anna," Olaf assured her as he plopped himself back down on the bench. "The Snow Queen and I were just talking, and..."
"Snow Queen?" Anna looked at the proud woman on the other side of the bench. "When I was younger, I had to learn every kingdom, nation, and empire across all of Europe. Maybe I could never remember them all, but I don't think I would have forgotten a Kingdom of Snow."
"Ah, but memories are tricky and fickle things. How could you be expected to learn something that all others have forgotten?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," Anna said moodily, thinking of her discovery of the hidden passageway that had, for a short time during her eleventh year, allowed her to sneak out of the castle and visit the town beyond its walls. "So that's where we're headed then? Back to your kingdom?"
"It is."
"Then I suppose you'll lock me in some dungeon and wait for Elsa to arrive to try and rescue me."
The Snow Queen regarded Anna out of the corner of her eye. "I have not yet decided. Such imprisonment hardly seems necessary. I do not believe that you could escape from my palace, but even if you did, there would be nowhere for you to go. Most people would not consider the lands surrounding my home to be a terribly hospitable environment, you see. You would not last long out there on your own."
"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can do by myself. I spent most of my childhood on my own. Well, I mean, I had my parents, but they were busy a lot of the time. And then after their ship was lost at sea, I didn't even have them. Of course, I did have Kai and Gerda and the rest of the palace staff, and they all did their best to look after me. But when Elsa ran off after her coronation, well then I went after her all by myself. At least until I met Kristoff. And Sven. And then we all met Olaf, and…
"Look, it doesn't matter. The point is, even though I may have had help before, there's still plenty I can do without it. I'm not afraid. Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I'm some frail flower who's going to wilt in the face of danger. I know how to take care of myself. I'm… um… I'm a skilled equestrian! Yeah, that's right. And I've rappelled down a cliff face, and I have a mean throwing arm that can hit almost anything from at least thirty paces, and… and… and I know how to fight with a sword, and..."
"All very impressive, I'm sure, but nothing that would be much help when it comes to surviving outdoors during a winter's night near the arctic circle."
"Well, I could probably… That is, I think I might be able to..." Anna's shoulders sagged. "Fine, maybe you have a point. But that still doesn't mean I'm scared. Elsa will figure out some way to save me, I'm sure of it."
"Oh, that really couldn't be simpler," said the Snow Queen. "All she has to do is agree to stay with me so that I can teach her everything she needs to know about her powers. I think it should be obvious that she belongs by my side, after all. No one else will ever be able to understand her the way that I can. If she does that, then you will be free to go."
"Okay, first? Elsa belongs with me in Arendelle, not locked away in some frozen palace. She already tried that once. It didn't really work. And second, we're sisters. That means there isn't anybody who understands Elsa better than I do."
"Really? But of all the people you mentioned who supported you during your lonely childhood, I noticed that you failed to mention anything about Elsa being with you during those years. Not even after your parents had died. On top of that, you told me that she'd kept her magic hidden from you for thirteen years. I'm sorry, but I do not see how you and your sister could possibly know each other well at all, considering the very things you yourself have said."
As a princess, Anna had received extensive training on manners, etiquette, and the proper behavior expected of royalty. She sometimes played a little loose with that last one, but she always did her best to be polite at all times. Even so, she had spent enough time in the company of stablemen, soldiers, and certain head cooks over the years to have picked up at least a passing familiarity with some of the coarser aspects of language that her tutor had not seen fit to teach her. It was just such a phrase that now popped unbidden into her head.
This woman missed no detail, no matter how casual its mention. She also had an uncanny knack for twisting such things to her advantage. Considering Anna's talkative nature, which only grew worse whenever she became nervous, this was a particularly vexing talent to be facing.
"Do you know what the first thing was that Elsa made with her magic on the night that she ran away to the North Mountain?"
Anna almost started to answer Olaf's question before she realized that it hadn't been directed at her. Instead, he was looking up at the Snow Queen, his face the same picture of open innocence as ever.
"I assume it was this frozen palace of hers," the Snow Queen answered dismissively, as if mildly annoyed by the interruption. "I doubt the cold would have bothered her much, but I suppose we all like to have a place to call home."
That was when the snowman turned to look at Anna.
"No, it wasn't that," Anna said with a sentimental smile. "She made Olaf."
Surprise registered quite clearly upon the Snow Queen's face, but she overcame it soon enough. "Interesting. Still, I hardly see what that has to do with..."
"Weren't you confused about why Elsa made Olaf in the first place? You said he didn't seem to have any useful purpose. You couldn't find any logical reason for him. Well, you were right – there was nothing logical about it."
Thin stick fingers settled upon the back of Anna's hand. She rested her other hand atop of Olaf's and continued to look at him fondly, even though her words were meant for another.
"When Elsa and I were little, we loved to play in the snow. It didn't really matter if it was hers, although I guess I pestered her to use her magic anytime I thought I could get away with it. But magical or not, what mattered was that we always had fun together. And one of the things we loved to do most was build snowmen.
"One day, we were outside in the woods near the castle and… Well, no, I guess we were playing in the ballroom, and it was the middle of the night. I think I convinced Elsa to sneak out of bed just because I was wide awake or something. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The point is that we made a snowman together, just the two of us, and we did it the old-fashioned way. Elsa rolled one snowball while I did another. Then I ran down to the kitchen to borrow a carrot and some coal, and Elsa found some twigs somewhere.
"Naturally, I let her make the head, because she was always better at making funny faces than I was. Well, okay, I actually made faces all the time, no matter how often Nanny scolded me and told me I was going to freeze like that. But Elsa could make faces. She knew how to shape the snow just right, even without using any magic. So when she finished, she turned it around so I could see, and then she waved its little arms and said..."
"'Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!'"
Anna and Olaf recited the line in unison, and the memory brought back a quieter echo of that night's laughter. "I suppose you could almost have called it a magical moment, and it was all the more so because there had been so little real magic involved. I remember running forward and hugging our little snowman and squealing, 'I love you, Olaf!' out of sheer delight.
"Of course, Elsa knew that what I was really saying was how much I loved her. I didn't need to say the words, any more than I need to hear her say them to me. We both knew. Besides, just spending time together was better than any words anyway. That's how it had always been between us."
Anna lapsed into silence then. She still looked at her little friend while happily remembering the warm feeling that had filled her so completely the first time she'd met him, long before his magical resurrection. The Snow Queen, for her part, simply stared ahead, gazing over the bears' backs at the thin ribbon of white that wandered off into the shadowy night.
"So you and Elsa made snowmen together," she said at last, and though it hadn't come out quite like a question, Anna still decided to answer it.
"That's right!"
"And since you clearly enjoyed it so much, I am guessing the two of you made quite a few of them."
"All the time!"
"I see. So, if I may ask, what made this one so special? Of all those many snowmen, why did Elsa decide to recreate this specific one on the night that she ran away?"
"Well, I… That is, she… I mean, um, we..."
"You said that the reason Elsa hid her powers from you was because she was afraid that she would hurt you. But now you say that you built a snowman together in the palace ballroom. I rather doubt that someone left the windows open in the middle of a blizzard, so I assume that she must have created the snow you used on that night. Clearly, she wasn't hiding her powers from you then, and yet somehow she also concealed them for thirteen years."
"That… That's not..."
"Why did Elsa suddenly become afraid of hurting you, my dear? What happened on that night to make this one particular little snowman so important to her? What did she do to you?"
"Nothing! She didn't do anything! Not on purpose, anyway. It was… it was just an accident."
"An accident that somehow made it possible for her to hide her magic from you even though you clearly had already known about it before then."
Anna found herself trembling. The inner warmth that had been brought back by memories of her first meeting with Olaf had now vanished, driven out by a cold dread that seemed to press in on her from all directions.
"Was that when your sister froze your heart?"
She bit her lip, harder than was normally her habit, to keep herself from saying anything more. Every well-meaning attempt she had made to defend herself and Elsa only ended up making matters worse. She was quickly becoming convinced that even a simple denial would somehow be turned against her.
Beside her, Olaf looked back and forth between the two women, obviously confused and worried, unsure how things had managed to take such an unexpected turn. "No," he said uncertainly, wanting as always to be helpful. "That only happened last summer."
"Ah, I see. So that was not the first time Elsa hurt you, then." Turning toward Anna, the Snow Queen reached over and brushed her fingertips across the princess's temple. Anna flinched away from her frigid touch, resentful of the intimacy it implied. It reminded her too strongly of the way both her mother and father had often tucked stray locks of hair back behind her ear. She herself had picked up and retained the habit as she'd grown older, even when no hair had actually escaped. But this woman had no right!
"I noticed how your little story started outside before you corrected yourself. There were several other details about which you seemed rather unsure as well. Tell me, how well do you truly remember that night? Or was it that day? How much of it are you sure really happened?"
"It doesn't matter!" Anna replied, anger overriding her short-lived determination to hold her tongue. "I remember enough. So what if Elsa hurt me a little. People get hurt all the time! Between falling out of trees, running into suits of armor, tipping off our bike, and all the other crazy things I did back then, I almost always had at least a couple scrapes or bruises. If anything, it was Elsa who kept me from getting into even more trouble. She looked out for me!"
"Was she looking out for you when she erased your memories?"
"What? No, she didn't…"
"There is no reason to try and deny it. Everything you have said makes it perfectly clear what happened. When you were younger, you knew about your sister's magic. But as she grew older, Elsa eventually realized the danger of having anyone who knew what she could do. If people found out, they would fear her and shun her… or worse. She was neither old enough nor skilled enough to defend herself properly, so she did the only thing she could. She erased your memories of her magic so that no one would know, and then she hid her powers for the next thirteen years."
By this point, Olaf was scratching the top of his head in befuddlement. Unfortunately, given how short his arms were, he'd had to pull one off and hold it in the other just to reach that far. "Wait, but I thought…"
Anna elbowed the snowman sharply. A little too sharply, as it turned out, for it knocked his head off-balance. It wobbled perilously for a second. Then, with a short cry of surprise, it tipped over and fell onto the floorboards by their feet.
"Ow," came Olaf's slightly muffled voice. "Ooh, I hope I didn't break my nose. Who knows when I'll be able to get another one. Oh hey, those are really nice shoes, Your Majesty! Did you make them yourself?"
"Sorry, Olaf! Sorry!" Anna bent down to retrieve her friend. "Here, let me take a look at you."
She made a show of holding the errant head, turning it this way and that in order to examine it. As if to make the most of the pale moonlight, she raised it up and held it directly between herself and the Snow Queen. Thus temporarily hidden, she quickly made a shushing gesture with one finger. Olaf's eyes grew wide for a moment, but then she felt him nod forward slightly in understanding. Giving him a grateful smile, she carefully recentered his nose beneath his eyes before setting the head back into place.
"There, good as new," she announced.
She didn't know exactly why she had decided to prevent Olaf from correcting the Snow Queen's misconception, especially since she had almost started to do exactly the same thing herself. If nothing else, it helped just knowing that this all-too-perceptive woman was nonetheless still fallible. Besides, she had already inadvertently revealed more than she'd ever intended to divulge. As least this was one thing that her kidnapper would not know, provided that Anna could avoid letting anything slip that might contradict her incorrect assumptions. In the end, it might only be a moral victory, but right then, she would gladly take any kind that she could get.
The real question, though, was why the Snow Queen would even think Elsa had the ability to erase memories? She hadn't assumed it to have been the result of an accidental use of her powers, the way that Anna had originally. No, she believed that Elsa had done it on purpose. But the only magic her sister had was over ice and snow – magic which the Snow Queen claimed had come from her. It didn't make any sense why she would assume that Elsa would be capable of doing anything else.
Unless…
"Are they boys or girls?"
"What?" Anna looked down at Olaf, who had gotten to his feet and was once again peering over the dash panel.
"The bears," he explained. "Are they boys or girls?"
"They are both male," the Snow Queen answered, "though I am not certain why it matters."
"Well, if I'm going to give them names, I need to know these things! So I'm thinking maybe... mmm… Bernie and Barney!"
"Olaf, you do know those are both just short for Bernard, right?"
"Great! That makes it even better!"
"It does?"
"Yeah, 'cause I don't think I can really tell the two of them apart anyway."
Normally, listening to Olaf's unique outlook on life would at least have brought a smile to Anna's face. Right then, however, humor didn't have much chance of penetrating the multiple layers of worry that enveloped her. The more she considered the Snow Queen's words, the more dire their implications seemed to become.
Slowly, she edged along the bench and pressed herself tightly into the corner, where she had slept not so very long ago. The extra distance didn't amount to much, but Anna now wanted as much of it as possible between herself and her captor.
She had thought of this woman as basically just an older, more experienced version of Elsa. Having already faced what she considered to be the worst that her sister's special talents could offer, she hadn't let herself get too scared by more of the same in a different package. Now though…
Now there were ominous hints of something more, something unexpected, and – at least to her mind – something far more dangerous. She tried frantically to search for another, more reasonable explanation, but her mind kept returning over and over to what appeared to be a terrible and inescapable conclusion.
It was all Anna could do to keep from curling up into a tight little ball. Because now, no matter what face she might put on for the Snow Queen's benefit, she could no longer deny one simple truth to herself.
She was absolutely and inescapably terrified of this woman and what she could do.