The Guardian Chapter 20: Loose Ends - Part I, a frozen fanfic

The Guardian

by Concolor44

. . .

Author's Note #1: Has any of you ever been hit by a bus? Run over by a car? Struck by lightning? Have you fallen through a rotten floor? Been thrown from a bicycle? Gotten a second or third-degree burn? Unless you can answer in the affirmative, you probably won't be able to empathize with what Elsa's little troupe is feeling. I hope you never get the opportunity.

Author's Note #2: This was supposed to be a brief wrap-up of things, a way to tie off the story nice and neat. Well, it didn't work that way. As FREQUENTLY happens, the characters took over the keyboard, and this "little denouement" turned into a massive, 11,000-word sequel-starter. So I've broken it up into three parts, which I will post today, tomorrow, and Wednesday. And I apologize in advance for all the questions it's going to raise. Couldn't be helped.

. . .

Chapter 19: Loose Ends – Part I

. . .

Arendelle Castle, 28 June 1841, 10:15am

Doctor Odum studied the unusual limb lying on the examination table in front of him, blinking in confusion for a few breaths, and finally looking up to catch Kristoff's eye. "And … it doesn't hurt?"

"No."

"Fascinating." He tapped a finger on the dark-gray forearm. "Move it again for me?"

Kristoff clenched and relaxed his fist, flexed his elbow, rotated his wrist. The limb made subtle schissh-click-fwisshh noises as it moved.

Picking up a steel probe, the doctor asked, "May I?"

"Be my guest. If my knife wouldn't cut it, that flimsy thing sure won't."

Dr. Odum pressed the tip of the probe into Kristoff's palm. It skittered across, just as if the substance were stone. Just as if it were exactly what it appeared.

"So … what do you think? Can you help?"

"Fascinating."

"Yeah, I guess, if it's not your arm."

The doctor glanced up at Kristoff's face, pointing at the new addition to his profile. "And this reacts the same way?"

"Kinda. It's a little more … flexible, I guess. Still stiff, stiffer than the skin around it. Like an old scar. Petter cut his face open on a flying chunk of ice about four years ago, and it didn't get tended to for a while. We were three days out, if you pushed hard, and with him laid up, it took five. Healed up off-center, you might say, and it's real rough." He touched the dark scar on his cheek with his right hand. "Not quite as stiff as this, though."

"I see. So." Dr. Odum leaned back in his chair. "And the facial scar was a result of a deep cut, while the arm got burned very badly?"

"That's right."

"Fascinating."

"I wish you'd quit using that word."

"Sorry." He rested his elbows on his desk, and his chin on his fists. "This is unique in my experience."

"Mine, too."

"I don't know, my boy. If this is more of that Earth-magic you picked up recently, your, ah, family might be a better source for a cure."

"We would've gone there first if they'd left it up to me. But Elsa pointed our ride at Arendelle and just conked out."

"Your party did make quite a stir when you came in sight."

"Hmm. Whatever. Hell, if she'd made the thing that big, and let it go that fast the first time around, we wouldn't have been in that fix at all. Must have been going thirty leagues an hour." Frowning, he followed that with, "No. It was probably faster. It got us back to the castle …" A glance at the doctor's clock confirmed his guess. "Yeah. About twenty-four hours ago. Damn." He crossed his arms, then grimaced at the rough feel of his left arm against the right.

"It seems rather intelligent, certainly as intelligent as Olaf. I would think you could have reasoned with it."

"Ha. It was all we could do to hang on while it galloped, and the damn thing wouldn't listen to me, and Anna wouldn't let me wake up her sister." A snort preceded, "Hah. If she even could wake up. Getting bundled into the castle didn't do it." He glanced upward, in the general direction of the royal suites. "How's she doing?"

"Resting, which is what she needs to do for a few days. I put salve on her burns, and on the cut on her head, and the contusions on her limbs. She will be extremely sore for a while, but should make a complete recovery. Fortunately, none of the burns was third-degree. Unlike that poor Guard. He won't be walking soon." Blowing a disgusted breath, he muttered, "Seems like magic continually makes this job harder than it needs to be."

"Tell me about it."

Focusing again on Kristoff's arm, the doctor asked, "What about sensation?"

Kristoff's expression darkened. "That's why I want this gone. I can feel extreme temperatures, sort of, and pressure, if it's heavy enough. That's about all." His mind wandered to Anna, to her soft skin and softer lips. He wanted to be able to caress her with both hands. Even more, he didn't want to see revulsion (or worse, fear) in those matchless teal-blue eyes. She hadn't said anything yet, but he'd caught her several times staring at the arm, and she would blink her eyes away when she noticed him noticing.

"Well, it certainly appears functional enough. You can pick things up with it, yes?"

"Oh, sure. If you don't mind having 'em crushed."

"… Beg pardon?"

Kristoff looked around the doctor's office, zeroing in on a bed-pan. He walked over and picked it up (with his right hand), turned to Dr. Odum, and asked, "Are you particularly attached to this?"

"Ah … well, no. I have several, and that one leaks. I was going to take it to the tinker."

Transferring the bed-pan to his left hand, he gave it a slight squeeze. The heavy-gauge pewter snapped and crumpled like parchment.

Jerking back with a small yelp, the physician's eyes bugged. "Good Lord!"

"Yeah."

"It didn't look like you had to strain to do that."

He gave his head a shake. "I didn't. And what if I do that to Anna's hand or arm while I'm helping her up, or off her horse or … or anything? What then? Hell, I could kill her with this thing!"

"I begin to see your interest in, ah, correcting this state of affairs."

Flumping into his chair, the blond raked fingers through his bangs and let his head bump back into the wall. "Doc … I can't lose her. I can't. She's my world. You just don't know."

"Oh, I might. Just because my wife and I have been married for a quarter-century doesn't mean I can't recall the fire of new love."

Kristoff didn't answer, only holding his left arm up to stare at it for a few seconds, then letting his eyes slide shut in frustration. No. You don't know. You really don't. How could he explain that in his position as Guardian, his need to protect Anna had grown to an intensity to rival his love for her … even if that meant protecting her from himself? Even if that meant never touching her again? Neither did he dwell on the fact that, while Grandpabbie had told him about King Erik the Bold, the human Trollfriend who last wielded fire crystals, Kristoff had never learned what eventually became of him. That suddenly seemed like a very important thing to know, and was going to be one of his questions when next he met with the old troll.

. . .

North-eastern Arendelle, 28 June 1841, 1:20pm

"I don't like this," murmured Tad.

Jackson snorted, "I didn't ask you to like it."

The two men sat their horses in the dense shade of a stand of mighty oaks, thickets of rowan making up most of the understory. Here, some four hundred paces from the village, they were effectively invisible.

Tad pointed out a large, white mound in the center of the village. "Wanna bet that's some o' her ice?"

"Yeah, so? So she left 'em somethin' they can use to cool down in the heat. Big deal."

Scoffing, Tad replied, "You already forgot about those monsters? 'cause I ain't."

"A big hill o' snow ain't a monster."

With a quick glance back at the not-quite-score of men behind them, Tad countered, "We lost better'n fifty men. Fifty, Jack. And if it took her more than a slow count of ten to kill 'em all, I'll eat my saddle."

"Fine. You wanna stay up here and starve, I got no problem with that. Me an' the boys need to eat."

"Can't do much eatin' if you're dead."

"It's a pile of snow! How's it gonna kill anybody?"

"I had a belly-full of the Ice Witch's magic." Tad turned his horse and meandered back farther into the shadow. "Right now, all I need to do is get the Hell out of Arendelle, brush off the dust, and never set foot in this blasted land again."

"Yella."

"If you come back from attacking that village, I'll accept that. But I don't think you will."

The rest of the men were listening closely. Four of them still nursed wounds from the white beasts that had devastated their ranks. None was in the mood to run afoul of ice magic again.

Jackson turned to them, raising his voice slightly. "I'm gonna go get me some coin and somethin' to eat. Who's with me?"

Six men spurred their horses forward, slowly forming up behind him.

"That's all? Really?" He shook his head and chuckled. "Buncha pansies."

"Like I said," answered Tad, "you make it there and back in one piece, I'll wear a yellow badge. Be glad to do it. Only I don't think I'll have to."

"Watch and learn, pup." The seven spun and rode swiftly down to the edge of the village.

Tad and the remaining eleven men moved up to the verge of the wood, following the smaller group's progress.

Jackson raised his voice and his rifle.

One of the doors opened, and a white-haired old man emerged to stand on the tiny porch. They exchanged words for a handful of breaths. The Elder shook his head vehemently and pointed down the road. Jackson leveled his rifle at the old man.

Some … thing … shot out of the side of the mound of snow. Something long and white and thin. Something that flashed in the midday sun for a tiny fraction of a second before it hit Jackson.

The top half of the man fell off the horse.

Instantly panicked, the half-dozen left wheeled their mounts and spurred them like mad.

It didn't help.

Tad cringed and fought down his gorge as his former companions were diced, punctured, or pounded into paste in a matter of a few seconds. One of those behind him did retch. Another said, "Which is the shortest way out of this God-forsaken Hell-hole?"

Tad watched while the snow-hill rose on six stout legs, extended a long neck, and busied itself picking through the slaughtered men. After a couple of deep breaths, he said, "East. Over the mountains, into Norway."

"Great." Silently, they all rode off in that direction.

. . .

Arendelle Guard Infirmary, 28 June 1841, 5:45pm

The door squeaked loudly when Greta used her hip to push it open. The noise roused Sven, who looked over at her blearily.

She set the tray down on the tiny bedside table and took the cloth off, pushed a lock of her wavy black hair behind an ear, and said, "Hey, Sunshine, time to eat."

The smells made Sven's mouth water. He struggled to sit up, wincing and giving a muted hiss as he re-positioned his burned leg and foot. Lost a damn good pair of boots to that flamin' monstrosity. Worth it, though.

"Here, let me help." She leaned him forward, pulled the pillow out from under him, and plumped it against the headboard. Easing him back against it, she was careful not to touch the two broken fingers on his right hand. He was next presented with a bowl of savory stew, whereupon Greta readied a spoon and said, "Open wide."

Ordinarily he would vehemently protest having someone else feed him, but this was a special case. In the first place, Sven was horribly right-handed, basically unable to do much of anything with his off hand, including managing a spoon. In the second … any chance he had to gaze into those wide-spaced, deep-green eyes was a chance he took.

He ate in silence for a minute or so. A pair of crisp buns accompanied the stew, and he was able to use his left hand to dunk them in the spicy sauce. Mostly, though, he just let his eyes wander around Greta's face.

Her cheeks took on a slight rosy glow at his inspection. At length, she asked, "Is there something on my face?"

Quickly, he said, "Sure is."

"Really?" She sat up and touched a cheek. "What? Where?"

"Amazing beauty. And it's all over your face."

Her blush intensified remarkably. "Y-You, sir, I judge to be too ill to be making such remarks."

"One is never too ill to speak the truth."

She nearly dropped the bowl.

"Greta?"

Her eyes met his for a tiny instant.

"Do you remember what I asked you four weeks ago?"

A pause. A short nod.

"You said you'd consider it. Have you given it any thought?"

Another brief nod.

"Is that why you volunteered to feed me?"

"What? I … who said? … volunteer? … what do you … I don't …"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Greta turned away and covered her face with her hands, sure that she sounded intensely stupid. After half a minute, she turned back and drew a deep breath. "See … well, Princess Anna came by."

"The Princess? Came by where?"

"The barracks. You know that's my usual round, that and the Infirmary."

"Yeah." He grinned. "I know."

She fought down her blush. "Well … see, half the men were away – you were one of them – protecting the Queen while she did her magicky thing. But there were still nearly a hundred in the barracks. The Princess came in and … told us all. About what happened." Another deep breath. "She said you were a hero. Said you saved the Queen's life."

"Hah. Not by myself, I didn't. That'd be the Ice Master."

"She said you'd say that."

"… Um …"

"She said you hit that monster. With spears. Said you fought it."

"We all fought it!"

She showed him a subtle dimple. "She said you'd say that, too."

"Well … um …"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes. You can court me." The blush was back full force.

His grin threatened to crack his face in half.

. . .

Queen Elsa's Apartments, 29 June 1841, 8:30am

"Elsa?"

"… nng …"

Anna moved a little closer to the disheveled lump on the bed that marked her sister's location. "Elsa? Honey, you need to wake up."

A muffled, "… no … uh don't," worked its way out.

The Princess had to laugh at her. "That's my line, Sis. You're the bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed one, remember?"

Elsa budged a little, moved her right hand up to rub her face, then groaned in pain.

Laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, Anna asked, "Hurts?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Where's it hurt?"

"… Ever'where."

"Really?"

"Everywhere. Hurts everywhere. Everything hurts."

"I'm sorry."

Elsa opened one eye. "Why? You didn't beat me up." Both her eyes flew wide. "Anna! Your face!"

"Yeah, yeah. I should have ducked. Rub it in."

"What … what happened?" She reached a trembling hand toward her sister. "… How …"

"You were kinda preoccupied with getting burned and tossed around like a rat at a terrier convention."

"Tossed? … uh … There at the end? When it grabbed me?"

"Yeah. It ripped the top off that rock we were hiding behind, and knocked me out of the way." Gingerly she touched the splotchy, purple bruise covering most of her face. It was liberally sprinkled with scabs of various shapes. "At least it didn't break my nose. I think."

Her hand dropping to the bed, Elsa moaned, "Oh, Anna! I'm so sorry! I didn't want for you to be dragged into-"

"Stop it. Stop right there. You didn't drag me anywhere. If you'd tried to leave me here while you traipsed all over Arendelle, I'd have broken out and followed you anyway. So just hush. Besides," she added with a puffy, lop-sided grin, "I've done worse than this to myself." She lightly moved Elsa's bangs aside. "We're in this together. Better or worse, peace or war, pain or love. Together."

Her sister gave her a crooked smile of her own, and said, "Together," and winced.

"Really hurts, huh?"

"Didn't Dr. Odum … have something for pain?"

"Yes, he does. But first I've got some fish stew here, and you have to eat. And if you can stand it, you need to get to the privy."

"I … don't think I need to. We didn't eat anything for most of a day, then after the fight I think I … might have sort of lost consciousness a little." She swallowed. "So, no, I don't need to go. That soup does smell good, though." Wincing again, she admitted, "Don't think I can sit up."

It took a couple of slow, careful minutes, but soon Anna was smoothly feeding her sister the nourishing stew.

. . .

Arendelle Castle Courtyard, 01 July 1841, 11:00am

"Elsa, I don't know where you got the idea, but this is a cool contraption. Who would have thought to put wheels on a chair?"

"Since you ask, quite a few. There's a company in Avalon that sells them." She patted the arm of her contoured ice chair. "Of course, theirs are made of wood and metal."

Anna stared at her. "… No kidding? For how long?"

"Several decades, in their case."

"Why haven't I ever heard of one?"

"Maybe because you've never had a need for one?"

"I sure could've used one when I was nine and cracked my leg. They wouldn't let me get out of bed for three solid weeks. I was sure I was gonna lose my mind."

Elsa leaned back, letting the morning sun bathe her face. She wiggled her fingers, her magic making a subtle adjustment to the headrest, and sighed happily. Suppressing a giggle, she countered, "It may be that Papa didn't want you to know about them. Just imagine what sorts of trouble you could have gotten up to with a wheeled chair."

Opening her mouth in indignation, Anna raised a finger, paused, tapped her chin instead, and finally shrugged. "You might have a point. They did eventually take my velocipede away."

"After your third wreck. Or was it the fourth?"

"The fourth one you heard about."

That made Elsa laugh … and then groan. "Oh … my ribs."

"Sorry, El. I'm not trying to-"

"I know, Sweetie, I know. I'll need to shelve my sense of humor until some things heal."

"Now that would kill me."

SNERK! "Ow! Stoppit."

"Ugh. Sorry, again. You deliver such great straight lines."

They were silent for a few breaths before Elsa perked up again. "I meant to ask. Where's Kristoff?"

"That's a darn good question."

"I figured he'd be in the Infirmary. I know you said he managed to heal that horrible burn somehow …"

"Eesh. Don't remind me." Anna covered her face, shook her head. "I'll never get that image out of my mind."

"I can imagine." Lightly, she patted the Princess's arm. "I just thought … well, he got beat up worse than I did, as far as I could tell. I know he's tough and rugged and so on, but still."

"I saw him once yesterday, in the South Hall, for about ten seconds. He mumbled some kind of excuse and ran off."

"Are you sure he's not back in the Infirmary?"

"Doc says he's not. Doc says he's fine. No broken bones, not even any bruises. And, yeah, I agree with you about him getting beat on worse than either of us. Or Corporal Ott."

Closing her eyes and doing her best to relax, Elsa said, "We'll need to have ourselves a knighting, as soon as I'm strong enough to hold the ceremonial sword. For both of them."

"You know Sven's gonna limp, probably, for the rest of his life, right?"

"That hardly disqualifies him from knighthood. He helped save my life. If he hadn't slowed that thing down with a spear, I don't-"

"I'm not disagreeing! Just sayin' you might want to wait until he can walk, sort of. That burn on his lower leg looks nasty."

Elsa made a hmh noise. "Right you are. I'll have to talk to Dr. Odum about that." She observed Anna for a bit and said, "You keep looking back at the castle."

"Do I? Um … I didn't realize …"

"You hungry?"

"… Maybe."

Suppressing another painful chuckle, Elsa answered, "Why don't you wheel me over in the general direction of the dining room? It's not too early for lunch, and I've got some fasting to make up for."

"That's right! The doc said you need to eat more while you recuperate."

"Well, then, don't let me stop you."

Anna wasted no time getting them back inside.