Ellinor sat in a corner of the kitchen and attempted to master the complicated art of carrying on a conversation while not being noticed.
This was simultaneously easier and harder than it sounded. The hustle and bustle of preparations for the Midsummer's Eve feast meant that, purposefully tucked out of the way as she was, the somewhat frantic kitchen staff were far too preoccupied to pay her much heed beyond an occasional, "Pardon me, Your Majesty." The difficult part came from trying to make herself heard over the banging of pots and pans, the clatter of dinnerware, and the gabble of so many other voices trying to coordinate all their various activities.
The challenge was made all the greater by the fact that the voice attempting most of that coordination belonged, quite naturally, to Gerda herself.
"No, no, Karina. You can't put those in the ovens this early! They have to be served hot, and we can't afford to keep them warming that entire time. We have too many other dishes in need of cooking, baking, and broiling to be taking up space for food that already ought to be done. Yes, that's much better. Those should only take an hour and then they can be set out to cool. Just keep an eye on them and make sure they don't burn, there's a good lass."
"And Henrik," she called out to a man she spied walking out the door, "you best be careful with those glasses. Break another one and it's coming out of your pay! Practice your juggling on your own time." This last sentiment was merely a quiet grumble to herself, since Henrik had already hurried out of sight.
Finally, she turned back around, absentmindedly wiping off her hands in her apron despite the fact that she hadn't touched anything to soil them since their last cleaning only a minute earlier. Sparing a quick glance for her long-time friend, she asked, "Now, what were we talking about again?"
Ellinor hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as she took a hasty sip of tea. That was why her voice was a touch muffled and seemed to echo ever so slightly when she said, "Oh, I had only just mentioned how much fun the Midsummer's festivities always are for the castle staff."
Gerda shot her a look that, if it could have been made audible, would have sounded like a disparaging snort. "Yes, well, those festivities don't begin for hours and hours yet, now do they? Until then, there's still work to be done, and plenty of it. Feasts don't just prepare themselves, after all."
"You know," the queen said in that careful manner which always indicates that the speaker is about to state something painfully obvious, "a fair few of these ladies have worked here in the palace kitchens at least as long as you have, and a handful even longer. I should think you wouldn't have to oversee every little detail first hand."
"I don't and I'm not. If I did, I wouldn't be over here talking to you, would I? I'd be over there, watching over Olette's shoulder to make sure she doesn't... Olette, what in heaven's name are you stuffing into that bird?"
Ellinor very nearly choked when her suppressed laughter threatened to drain her tea down her windpipe. She coughed repeatedly into her hand, her eyes watering slightly as she watched Gerda storm across the kitchen and yank the bowl away from the younger woman. She couldn't make out her friend's words over all the rest of the hubbub, but she could read the essence of it from Olette's suddenly scarlet face.
Fortunately, the queen managed to compose herself again before Gerda returned, shaking her head and mumbling a few well-chosen phrases that Ellinor quite politically opted not to hear.
"Perhaps I ought to leave," she offered as she set down her cup and saucer and began to get to her feet. "You're clearly very busy, and the last thing I want is to get in the way."
"Oh, sit down and stop fretting." The older woman dismissed such concerns with a careless wave of her hand. "I'm not so old yet that I can't carry on a friendly little chat just because I'm keeping an eye on a dozen other things at the same time." And though her face remained pulled down in a grumpy frown, there nevertheless was an unmistakable twinkle in Gerda's eye.
Like I said, Ellinor thought to herself, the staff certainly do enjoy themselves this time every year.
"You and Kai will be joining us down at the bonfire again tonight, I hope. After your usual anniversary celebration, of course."
"Of course, Your Majesty. We might be a little late, but we will certainly be there. Which reminds me, thank you again for the lovely bottle of wine. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift."
"It was the least I could do. I just hope I chose well. I'll admit, wine is not my specialty, but I was assured it was an especially good year for that vineyard."
"Well, as always, you're welcome to join us and find out for yourself."
"And you're welcome to celebrate your little anniversary with us at the head table during the banquet," the queen replied with a smile.
Gerda chuckled and shook her head. "Even if I wasn't otherwise occupied, don't think you'd get me up there so easily. So many people watching you eat, from appetizers all the way through to dessert. Gracious me, no! Honestly, I don't know how you manage to not get indigestion from it all."
"Years of practice," Ellinor explained, "along with some of the best food in the kingdom."
"Some of? Who else has been feeding you? And if they're so good, why aren't they here today helping with the cooking?"
The queen held her hands up before her in self-defense. "My apologies. Poor choice of words on my part. Everyone knows, of course, that you are by far the finest cook in all of Arendelle."
Gerda's head bobbed once in absolute agreement, her mock indignation apparently soothed. Still, Ellinor found that she simply could not let her friend off quite that easily.
"Also the most modest," she added as she picked up her cup and once again lifted it to her lips.
She was wise enough this time so that she only pretended to sip her tea. Had she indulged for real, she was not at all certain she could have prevented herself from spraying it back out in a fountain of mirth at her friend's indignant spluttering.
When Gerda finally got herself back under control, she gifted Ellinor with another look that very few people would have dared to inflict upon royalty. "I better never hear you blaming me again for any mischievous streak your girls might have picked up," she said dryly. "Honestly, with a wit like that, the kingdom should consider itself lucky that you aren't the one negotiating terms with its trading partners."
"Now you know perfectly well that I would never say anything to offend a diplomatic visitor..."
Gerda cocked an eyebrow. "The Duke of 'Weaseltown'?"
"...where they might hear it," the queen amended. The fit of laughter that followed was shared by both women, and drew more than a few curious looks from the nearby kitchen staff.
"Oh, I am so glad that there's still room for that sound in these halls," the kitchen headwoman sighed as their merriment subsided.
The sudden stiffness of Ellinor's smile then made Gerda wonder if she might not have just pushed their familiarity a little too far. Perhaps she should have been a little more circumspect, at least in the presence of all these other people. Only belatedly did she recognize that what she had meant to be encouraging words might just as easily be viewed as a condemnation of the situation that required them to be said in the first place.
Before she could frame any sort of apology, however, the queen's face softened again. "So am I," she agreed. "That's why things like tonight's celebration are so important. They give us all a chance to forget our cares for a little while, even though we know they'll still be waiting there for us again tomorrow."
There was a sudden loud crash and clangor from the other side of the kitchen, followed by the gloppy sound of thick liquid striking the floor. Gerda momentarily let her eyes slide shut as she groaned under her breath. "Sometimes, they don't wait that long," she said resignedly. "Pardon me again, Your Majesty."
The queen took another sip of tea as (with no small amusement) she watched her dear friend march back across the room and begin haranguing the poor soul who'd had the misfortune to knock the large pot off the stove. The young assistant was quickly learning, albeit in an especially loud sort of lesson, a fact that Ellinor had known for years now. Gerda could be the most thoughtful and understanding person you'd ever care to meet. She could also be a frightening force of nature if you crossed her at the wrong time or in the wrong place.
In her kitchen on Midsummer's Eve met both of those criteria quite handily.
• • •
"Are you ready?" Ellinor asked as she poked her head into the king's study a few hours later.
Agdar lifted a finger without looking up. "Just a minute." He continued to scan the document that lay before him, eyes gliding quickly back and forth across the page while he tapped his chin absentmindedly with the back end of his pen. Finally satisfied, he dashed off a signature across the bottom, then stood and stretched.
"No rest for the weary, hmm?" she asked as he came out from behind the big mahogany desk to join her.
"Even on a holiday, the kingdom can't entirely run itself," he acknowledged. "Still, I suppose it wasn't all that bad. Mostly just correspondence I needed to catch up on. This morning seemed like a good time to do that, since I expected there wouldn't be much cause for interruption."
"Only me," Ellinor replied with a smile. "And our daughter, of course."
"Ah, but those aren't interruptions," he clarified. "They're diversions. Different matters entirely."
"Well, I'm glad to know that we rank so highly on your list of priorities."
"Oh, absolutely! Elsa and Anna are number one, always, followed by Arendelle, its people, its prosperity, its alliances and political standing..."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
He scratched his chin as they walked side by side through the palace corridors. "Am I? I can't imagine what. Let me see. Yes, got that, mentioned that. I did include the kingdom's alliances, right? So what could I... Oh! Oh yes, I see now. Yes, you're quite right. How careless of me. I almost forgot Tønne! That horse and I have been through a lot together. Can't believe I almost forgot to include him in the list."
Ellinor was just about to reply with a particularly scathing comment regarding his questionable sense of humor when a sound from around the corner ahead brought her up short. Her arm shot out to stop Agdar too, but it was hardly necessary. He had heard the noise as well.
Knock knock-knock-knock knock.
She almost turned around right there and then. It would be the polite and proper thing to do, after all. Or they could step into the next passageway and announce their presence openly. Eavesdropping around corners, however, was hardly appropriate for a queen and king
On the other hand, it was considered slightly more acceptable behavior for a mother and father of two unfortunately estranged girls.
"Elsa?" Anna's slightly raised voice came to them around the bend as clearly as if they were standing right behind her. "I... I brought you a present."
Agdar and Ellinor looked at one another, both feeling slightly uncomfortable about the situation, but neither willing to walk away now that they were here.
"It's a story," Anna continued. "I know this isn't our usual time for such things, but it's Midsummer's Eve after all. What with the banquet and the bonfire tonight, there won't be any time for me to stop by when I normally do. So I thought that I could read it to you now, if that's okay."
There was a pause, though Ellinor could not tell if Anna was simply getting comfortable or if she was allowing time for an answer that she almost certainly did not expect to come. Whatever the reason, it was followed by the barely audible rustle of paper, and then the young girl's voice began again:
Once upon a time, there were two sisters who loved each other ever so much. The younger girl in particular completely adored her older sister. She admired her and looked up to her. She wanted nothing more than to grow up to be every bit as beautiful and smart and kind, although she knew she never could, of course.
Then one day, a terrible monster swooped down upon their village. He was an evil and ugly thing, so bent and twisted with age and malice that it was impossible to tell what sort of creature he might once have been.
Perhaps he had once been covered in short, bristly hair, but most of it had now fallen out. Only small patches still remained, scattered haphazardly around his black body.
Perhaps he had once possessed teeth like the sharpest knives, but most of them had fallen out too. Now only two broken fangs jutted out from behind his cracked and snarling lips.
Perhaps he had once had eyesight keener than any hawk's, but now one eye had gone milky white with blindness. The other darted every which way, seeming to search for something in every last corner of the small town.
For even though the terrible beast was half blind, still he coveted all things beautiful. In his lair, he kept a collection of many magnificent treasures of gold and silver and brilliant gemstones, but this was never enough to satisfy him. So every now and then, the creature would leave its dark dwelling and scour the lands far and wide for more plunder.
But it was a very poor village he had chosen today, and those who lived there possessed no gold, nor silver nor gemstones of any sort. So it was that, in his search for beauty, the monster found it in a most unexpected form. When he saw the older of the two sisters, he new that this was without a doubt the most beautiful thing the village had to offer. This was what he would add to his collection.
Now the only things on the fearsome beast that were still as mighty as they had ever been were his wings. They were most like a bat's, but of immense size and strength. So no sooner had he grabbed the young maiden than he shot into the sky with a single powerful stroke of those vast sails. A few of the village hunters loosed arrows after him, but he had already risen well beyond bowshot before they had even nocked their arrows.
At that moment, the younger sister returned from the woods where she had gone to pick berries and wildflowers. Looking up at the sound of fading screams, she saw the creature speeding away with her sister gripped tightly in his clutches. Without another thought, she ran after it as fast as her little legs could carry her. But soon she, like the basket of berries and flowers, was left far behind.
Not knowing what else to do, she continued her pursuit anyway, trying ever to travel in the same direction as best as she was able to tell. After all, she had never seen the monster turn or otherwise change course before it had finally vanished from sight.
The girl journeyed onward for days. Every so often, she would pass another small town or a farm house. Then she would stop and ask if they knew where the monster lived. Always they would point her in the same direction, but no one could ever tell her how far she had yet to go.
So she continued for weeks until her shoes were worn to tatters and her skin had grown dark under the scorching summer sun. Homesteads became fewer and farther between, but whenever she found one, she would tell her story and ask the same question. The folk in that part of the country were kind and always took pity upon her. They would give her food and a place to rest for the night. And they would always answer her question by pointing once again in the same direction. Each morning, she would set out again in pursuit of her sister.
Months passed in this fashion. Her hair had been parched and bleached by the sun until it was now the color and texture of straw. Her clothes had been torn to ribbons by countless thorns and briars. And she found herself deep in the wilderness. She hadn't seen another living soul for days, and autumn was quickly fleeing in the face of the oncoming winter. Wild berries and nuts were becoming harder and harder to find, and her walk had now become more of a perpetual stumble due to her weariness and hunger. Yet she continued onward, ever heading in the same direction, never knowing when or if she might reach the monster's lair.
Then one bitterly cold night, she could finally go no farther. Upon a narrow mountain pass, her legs gave out beneath her. Yet as she lay there, nearly beyond all hope, she lifted her eyes to the path ahead. Then, in the thin moonlight, she thought she could just make out a deeper darkness against the black face of the mountain. With the last of her strength, she managed to drag herself forward until at last, she collapsed just within the mouth of the cave. Then, the darkness took her.
She was surprised merely to awaken at all the next morning. But what made her heart nearly stop in her chest was the sound that echoed out from the still darkened depths of the cave that seemed to bore straight into the mountain. She knew that sound. How could she ever forget it? It was the voice of her sister, raised in quavering song.
Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and began to crawl along the rough stone floor. Sharp rocks bit into her palms and shins, but she couldn't be bothered to feel the pain. It was all she could do to keep moving forward, ever so slowly, ever in the same direction.
Suddenly, the narrow tunnel opened up into a huge cavern. Even though it was barely lit by the fitful glow of only a few sputtering torches, still the unmistakable glitter and flash of gold and silver and brilliant gemstones surrounded her. But she had eyes for none of it. All she could see was the lone figure sitting upon a low stool in the middle of the room and singing to the great black bulk of the monster that towered over her.
"Sister," she croaked in a voice that she barely recognized as her own. The song abruptly stopped, replaced by a sudden gasp. Then came the sound of another voice that was most definitely not her sister's. It sounded like great rocks being split asunder by mighty hammer blows.
"Who dares intrude upon my home?" it boomed out.
"I am no one," she replied weakly. "Only the sister of one you have taken. I have pursued you for days and weeks and months until at last I have found you."
"And what do you want of me?" The mighty voice echoed off the stone walls.
"I want nothing," she answered, "except to remain by my sister's side."
"But only beautiful things may remain here." The voice dripped with scorn. "Look at you. Your skin is like leather. Your hair is like straw. Your clothes are in shreds, and your arms and legs are not much better off. Why should I allow something so hideous to remain here amid such beauty?"
To this, the girl had no answer. It was her older sister who spoke instead.
"There is beauty in this world that cannot be seen. The sound of a rippling brook. The smell of a rain-kissed flower. The feel of a cool breeze on a warm day. The heart of a person who would give up everything they have to help another. What greater beauty could you ever hope to add to your collection than that?"
The monster considered this for a very, very long time. Finally, after much deliberation, he announced his decision.
"Very well. You may stay."
And so the two sisters were reunited. In time, the younger girl was nursed back to health, and she joined her big sister in tending to and singing for the dark creature. The three of them together made a sort of life for themselves, strange though it might have seemed.
But perhaps the strangest part of all was that the monster never again ventured out into distant lands to pillage far flung towns and villages. For never again did he feel the need to add any greater beauty to that which he already possessed.
Anna's voice fell silent. Her parents stood just out of sight, staring at each other in amazement at what they had just heard. Three people had listened to that story. Not one of them dared now to speak.
"I know it's not that good," Anna spoke again at last. "I've been working on it for a long time now, trying to make sure it was absolutely perfect for today. Then suddenly, I realized that it was today. I did the best I could, but I'm sure the ending wasn't what it should have been. Nothing like what you could have done, of course.
"Anyway, I hope you didn't mind it too much. I'll have a real story again for you tomorrow night, so at least you shouldn't have to wait too long. Thanks for listening, though. I'll just leave it here for you." Ellinor couldn't resist peeking around the corner just long enough to see the pages disappear through the gap beneath Elsa's door. Then Anna straightened up and laughed a little nervously. "If nothing else, you can always use the backs of the pages for some of your sketches."
The princess paused for a moment, then leaned forward and rested her forehead against the elaborately painted wood. She brought one hand up beside her and traced the outline of a royal blue diamond with her finger. When she finished, she covered the shape with her palm, then spoke one last time.
"Have a wonderful Midsummer's Eve, Elsa."
Ellinor drew back quickly, grabbed Agdar by the arm, and hurriedly dragged him down the hall at a near run. They ducked into an empty room whose door was already standing open, then simply hid behind the wall until they heard the sound of footsteps pass in the corridor outside.
"Did you know..." Agdar began in a whisper. But Ellinor lifted a finger to her lips, then shook her head in answer. Carefully, she peeked out into the passageway. Once satisfied that Anna was nowhere to be seen, she gestured in the direction from which they had just fled.
"Come on. Something tells me we had better check on Elsa." Agdar nodded his agreement.
Seconds later, they were back at the door. The queen hesitated for a brief moment, then rapped lightly upon the white wood. "Elsa? Elsa, your father and I are here. May we come in?"
When she did not immediately receive a reply, Ellinor feared the worst. She was just about to knock again when she heard the click of the bolt being drawn back. Then the door swung open to reveal her elder daughter.
Elsa stood just inside her room. Tears stained her cheeks, but there was also a smile upon her lips. She hiccuped, and her smile grew a little broader.
The pages of Anna's story were clutched tightly against her chest.
• • •
Ellinor felt her husband's elbow nudging her arm, gently but insistently. A forkful of roast pheasant paused halfway to her mouth as she turned to him with a quizzical expression. She then watched him silently tilt his head in an attempt to direct her attention with his eyes, the point of his chin, and the lift of an eyebrow.
Following his gesture, she turned away and found herself looking at their younger daughter, who was seated on her other side. Anna, however, seemed to be completely oblivious to the combined attentions of both her parents. She wasn't looking at either of them or at the half-eaten food upon her plate. Instead, she was staring out into the crowd of faces that were engaged in jolly merrymaking at the other long tables in the dining hall. Nor was hers the aimless stare of one simply lost in thought. The freckled princess was most definitely looking at something or someone in particular.
The queen tried to trace her daughter's line of sight, but it simply was not possible. Nothing obviously unusual stood out to her among the seated staff and their families. If there was some singular person upon whom her no-longer-quite-so-little girl was so completely fixated, the hall was too crowded to have much hope of discerning who that might be.
She turned her eyes back to Anna, feeling somewhat confused. So their daughter was watching somebody out among the crowd of people. She couldn't see anything particularly odd about that. Why then had Agdar bothered to draw her attention to it? Was he simply indicating his continued amazement about Anna's little tale from that afternoon? She could only assume he was still every bit as flabbergasted as she was. Or had he seen something that she was missing? She didn't understand.
And then, there it was. Anna's steady gaze did not waver in the slightest, but her shoulders rose and fell ever so slightly. Her eyelids drooped a fraction, and a dreamily disconnected sort of smile curled her lips.
Ellinor's eyes grew wide and round in surprise. She whipped her head about to face her husband, who was looking back at her with a bemused grin.
"Anna?" she mouthed silently. He nodded.
"Our Anna?" she mouthed again. And again, he nodded.
"Who?" He shrugged, but Ellinor could see that his eyes were dancing in the bright light of the lamps that illuminated the feast. He seemed singularly unconcerned by this development. If anything, he appeared to find it rather amusing.
The queen wished that she could share his relaxed attitude. She turned back to the room at large and began another, more thorough search of the faces. There were a number of boys and girls more or less Anna's age scattered among the tables: children of the castle staff who were reveling in this once-a-year treat. Her eyes leaped from one to the next, trying in vain to guess which one might have caught her daughter's fancy.
She glanced back at Anna and then made another attempt to follow the direction of her gaze. It took a moment, but at last she spotted him. There he sat, one table off to the right. He wasn't saying much to his neighbors, but he appeared to be listening with interest as he industriously conveyed heaping forkfuls of food into his mouth. Ellinor quickly sized him up with her keen regard.
He was older than Anna, there was no question about that. His face was pleasant enough, and might in another few years grow to be worthy of the term rugged. The clothes he wore were simple, but clean and neat. Clearly, he had put on his best outfit for this special occasion. His blond hair was somewhat unkempt, but it soon became clear that was not entirely his fault.
When the woman beside him turned away to speak more intimately with her neighbor, the taller lad seated on his other side – his brother, most likely – quickly ran his knuckles through the boy's hair in an extremely vigorous manner. The queen couldn't hear the younger child's exclamation over the general hubbub, but his mother clearly had. She turned back around to see what all the fuss was about. Naturally enough, the older sibling was already facing the other direction, pretending to be completely engrossed in the conversation of two men further along the table.
Ellinor remained unsure what she ought to make of all this. But then, perhaps there was nothing to be made of it at all. So Anna had spotted this boy tonight and, for the first time, some part of her had woken up to the fact that boys might be interesting as more than just playmates. Well, that was perfectly natural. It was all just a part of growing up, wasn't it?
Her breath suddenly caught in her chest, and for a brief instant, the room turned a little bit blurry.
Oh heavens, her little girl really was growing up! It was too soon. She wasn't ready. But then, had she allowed herself to imagine that, with so very little changing inside these walls since the closing of the castle gates, her little girls would somehow remain unchanged as well?
She hurriedly blinked away the thin mist that had covered her eyes, and the room stuttered back into focus. She drew in a short, sharp gulp of air, then allowed her breathing to return to normal as well.
"Anna," she said quietly. Too quietly, apparently, for the princess seemed totally unaware that anyone was addressing her at all.
"Anna," the queen said again, a little louder this time.
Her daughter blinked in surprise as the sound of her name finally registered. She straightened up in her chair and turned. "Yes, Mother?" she asked
There was so much that Ellinor wanted to say then. She wanted to beg her daughter to never grow up. She wanted to tell her all the things that a woman needs to know. She wanted to caution her, but she also wanted to encourage and reassure her. She wanted to offer protection and guidance. She wanted to let her know that, even during those times when she might be on her own, she could never go too very wrong if she only followed her own heart and did what she knew to be right.
Anna continued to look at her expectantly. Her face was bright with the happiness of possibilities newly discovered and not yet explored. There was an eagerness and an excitement there that was so perfectly Anna. Her normally indomitable high spirits had been a little more grounded ever since Elsa's voice had again fallen silent for her. Ellinor had seen that reserve on her daughter's face even earlier that very same day. To see her heart starting to take flight like this once again... Well, there were no words. And that was precisely what the queen found herself with now.
"Mother?" the princess prompted again.
Ellinor simply nodded toward the plates set out on the table before them. "Finish your vegetables, dear."
• • •
The rest of the banquet passed by with little else of note, except perhaps for the return of a dessert course that they had not seen for many a year. When the final dishes were set in front of the royal family, Ellinor immediately glanced once more at her daughter, somewhat concerned about what her reaction might be to the unexpected surprise.
For a few seconds, Anna just stared at the new arrival. Then a fresh smile slowly spread across her face. She scooted forward on her chair, pulled the flat-bottomed bowl toward herself, grabbed her spoon and, with great gusto, tucked into the fluffy column of raspberry soufflé.
Three years ago, Anna had spent the Midsummer's Eve feast in a very different sort of distraction. Instead of looking out into the crowd, she had spent most of that meal in energetic conversation with her neighbor at the high table – not with her mother, but with her young friend Marie. The girl and her parents had been special guests of the royal family that night, and Gerda had prepared Marie's favorite dessert in honor of the occasion.
Seven months later, a heartbroken Anna had stood on the docks and watched her friend sailing away back to France. The soufflé had not been served again since. Ellinor wondered whatever had inspired Gerda to bring it back tonight. She would have to remember to inquire about that later.
A few minutes later and the final course of the evening was finished. Then Agdar rose to his feet, cleared his throat, and proceeded to deliver his customary short speech to their guests. In return, he received their usual polite attention and occasional laughter. After all, there was a reason the king generally chose to save his words until after the meal. You could almost always count on full bellies making for a more congenial audience.
Once Agdar finished, the hall quickly began to empty to the sound of scraping chairs and the resumption of dozens of small conversations. Most of the assemblage began to make their way down to the water's edge for the lighting of the traditional bonfire. One in particular seemed especially eager to make the journey.
"Come on, come on!" Anna urged her parents as she tugged impatiently at her father's hand. "Hurry up. We don't want to miss anything!"
Agdar smiled and, unless Ellinor was quite mistaken, actually slowed his pace a little. "I'm fairly certain they won't start without us, Anna," he said as he winked at his wife. "And it's such a beautiful night. I think I'd like to take my time and just enjoy a quiet, peaceful stroll with my family."
Anna groaned in exasperation. "It's quiet and peaceful all year round! This is the one night where I get to have a little fun and excitement."
"So you're saying that spending time with your mother and me isn't fun?" Agdar asked, clearly taking undo enjoyment in his needling of their younger daughter.
"No! Well, I mean yes, of course it is, but... that is, I just... I only meant that..." Anna's face creased as she scrambled to find a way out of the corner in which she had inexplicably been trapped.
"Tell you what," Ellinor chimed in, taking pity on the poor girl. "Why don't you run along ahead? Your father and I will find you when we get down there."
Anna's eyes lit up. "You mean it?" she asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
The queen smiled as the princess practically bounced into the air in her elation. "Oh, thank you, thank you! I'll see you down there then, okay? Take your time. Don't worry, I'll be fine." She kept having to raise her voice to compensate for the ever greater distance that was growing between them, for she was already drawing away in her eagerness. Suddenly, as if she had been pulling against an elastic band that had abruptly snapped, she turned and sped off. "Bye!" she called back over her shoulder.
"You be careful!" her mother called after her.
"I'm always careful!" Anna yelled back. Then she caught up with the trailing edge of the crowd, which was already halfway across the bridge to the mainland, and disappeared amid the mass of bodies. Ellinor craned her neck and was able, for a short while, to catch brief glimpses of strawberry blond braids dodging this way and that through the throng. It was only a matter of seconds, however, before their daughter was completely lost to sight.
Beside her, Agdar chuckled, then slipped his newly freed hand into hers.
"You're taking this remarkably well," she chided him.
"What 'this' are we referring to?" His face was the picture of innocence, but for the rakish twinkle in his eye.
"Our daughter," Ellinor clarified dryly, "appears to be in love."
"Our daughter is growing up," he replied. "They tend to do that at this age. But love? No, I don't think so. An infatuation, certainly, but I can't see any harm in that. Actually, I find it rather comforting."
The queen raised her eyebrows. "Please, do explain that logic to me that I might benefit from your abiding wisdom." Given her husband's past predilection for overprotectiveness, his odd calm now was not at all what she would have expected.
"Well," he began thoughtfully, "neither of our daughters have exactly had a normal childhood, have they? And yes, Anna hasn't been nearly as isolated as her sister, but she's still hardly spent any time with other children her own age for the last five years, except for Marie.
"These are the years that will shape her into the person she will be for the rest of her life. There are few things that imprint themselves quite so indelibly upon the soul as the traumas of our youth. That Anna, despite everything, is still capable of having such a perfectly normal reaction as this gives me hope – both for her and for Elsa.
"It means that maybe our mistakes haven't been quite as catastrophic as I've feared. Either that or perhaps our girls simply have far greater reservoirs of inner strength than I ever dared to imagine. One way or the other, I can't help but consider it to be an encouraging sign. I think we can both agree that we can all use every bit of encouragement we might find."
Ellinor did not reply right away. But as they stepped off the bridge onto the docks, she drew herself closer to his side so that they now walked along shoulder to shoulder. Their unhurried pace had left them quite alone. The press of bodies that had preceded them was now so far ahead that not a single murmur drifted back to their ears, save for that of the water lapping quietly against the pilings of the piers. A gust of colder air from across the sheltered bay caused her to shiver slightly. Agdar released her hand and draped his arm about her shoulders.
Together, they walked down to the stony shoreline where the castle staff and their families all clustered around the towering pile of firewood. Some of the younger children, tired of waiting, were already running about with unfettered excitement, chasing after each other in one happy game or another. The deepening darkness did not seem to bother them in the slightest.
At a signal from the king, burning torches were thrust deep into the heart of the dry logs. The kindling crackled and caught. Tongues of flame, their appetite quickly whetted by the smaller twigs and branches, began to lick hungrily at the larger chunks of wood. With the help of some careful stoking by those nearby, a very merry blaze was soon going strong, bathing all those nearby with its warmth and light.
Now that the approach of night had been fended off for a while, Ellinor began to look around for Anna. There were enough people milling about that she was unable to spy her daughter right away. Then she happened to catch sight of the blond-haired boy she'd spotted from the high table as he came up to briefly warm himself by the blazing fire. She waited, peering into the crowd behind him, expecting to see a familiar freckled face come following closely behind.
After a minute or two, the boy turned as if in response to a call. Then he hurried off, squeezing through the ring of people around the bonfire. The small gap that opened up for him quickly closed again with his passing. Anna had not appeared. Was it possible hers had been the voice to which the youth had responded?
The king was engaged in a lively conversation with a few of his closer advisors when Ellinor finally caught a glimpse of red hair and green fabric through a gap between bodies. She took a step or two away from his side to get a better look at her daughter with the lad who had so clearly captured her fancy.
"Agdar," she called out. Her hand rose behind her, reaching in his direction, beckoning him to her. She did not turn her gaze toward him, however.
"Excuse me, please," she heard him say. Then she felt his hand grasp her questing fingers. "What is it, dear?" he asked as he drew alongside her.
"Look. Look there."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head to follow her gaze. "Ah, you've found Anna," he began. "I'm glad to see she's enjoying herself tonight too." Sure enough, Anna was laughing most happily. "And she seems to have found some rather agreeable company with whom to pass the time. So, does this mean we now know the identity of her young swain?"
Finally, Ellinor turned away to look at her husband. Then she realized that, from his angle, Anna's companion would be almost entirely blocked by several other people who stood in the way. So she took a step to one side and drew him over to stand in the spot she had just vacated. He glanced at her with a grin, then turned back to peer at their daughter once again.
The queen watched as Agdar's eyebrows did the most peculiar dance. They couldn't seem to decide whether to climb up his forehead in surprise or draw downward in consternation.
Either way, the equanimity he had displayed during their earlier discussion was somewhat lacking when he at last spoke.
"I do believe that I will need to have a talk with the good Mr. Mikkelsen."
