Wayfaring Stranger

by EOTWY00xx00

Time passes. Summer ends. Winter beckons. As the fall season begins to wane, new stirrings rumble within the hearts of the two young rulers of Arendelle. A journey to the far north reveals more than was bargained for. Be wary of strangers bearing gifts...especially the gift of truth. Elsanna, rated M for smut, language, violence, anything else I may have left out.

26. Obscene Physics Part One: Collision

School is out once again! Gonna keep this short because I know you kids want to read my story and not, well, me, ha. Betaabyss, DarthVaderisnotme, IceWraith, Don't Forget to Breath and Annaatemychocolate, these are very cool people and new friends of mine! Thank you all so much!

My avatar artist = awesome. My beta is maximum and gorgeous and a warrior-cricket-nut and she knows it and I can't imagine this fic without her. This is a two-parter, people…hold on to your butts.

Wait for it…wait for it…NOW!

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"For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather; To cheer one on the tedious way, to fetch one if one goes astray, to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen whilst one stands."

-Christina Rossetti

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Oh, what splendor met the eyes of the Queen!

A bed of blue velvet, soft and layered, sat upon a small shelf of pine, displaying the shining ivory of two delicate taffeta gloves. One lay across the small shelf as an arm might drape over a table, while the other lay palm-up, the fingertips spread out as a hand in mid-wave to a group of onlookers. The threadwork was intricate and stunning – a cascade of snowflakes and sparkling silver—interconnected with one another. A small drawstring could be found at the elbow of each glove, braided with twisted silk in a constrictor knot. Along the dorsal plane of the hand, a crop of vines, not unlike ivy, spread up and out from the billow of snowflakes towards the fingers. The leaves spread toward the top of all four digits and the thumb, reaching for some unseen source of light at the terminus of each finger. The ventral side displayed a fixed point of silver at the tips of the glove, swirling back across the palm in what looked like a whirlpool of starlight. The contrast with the whiter than white material of the gloves made the silvery accents look mirror-like in their reflective qualities, to the point where Elsa could detect a cornucopia of colors shimmering across the surface.

"While naming a weapon or naval vessel is very common, it is less so to name an article of clothing," Elgar explained from where he stood, "but in this case, given the inherently functional nature of these gauntlets, I feel it appropriate. I present you the Innfall av Dronningen, Lady Elsa, arguably the greatest—and last—accessory her majesty will ever require during her reign. The general material is a variant of chiffon silk, though it is layered antagonistically in places to allow for a more study garment. None of that pesky slipping and wrinkling. The drawstring is meant to keep the gloves secure, while also tight to the skin. However, the material is rather sheer in places and not binding, so as to avoid circulation issues and loss-of-sensation—"

"Allow me to stop you there, Lord Elgar," Elsa said, raising a hand above her head to silence the man, her voice clear and authoritative. "I'm sure the pedigree of these garments is fascinating and elaborate, but I needn't hear any more."

Elgar slowly closed his mouth for moment, thinking, calculating, studying the woman before he spoke. "I beg pardon, my Queen. Have I said something out of turn?"

Elsa sucked in a deep breath through her nose, sighing loudly before turning to face the man. "No, sir, you have not. But I'm afraid you have made an offer that I will probably have to refuse."

"On what grounds?" the man asked.

Anna stepped forward, flanking her sister as both a supportive measure and protective element. She looked upon the gloves, momentarily taken in by how beautiful they were, before looking up and away, facing Elgar with a look of patient disappointment.

"On the grounds that this particular gift may be in bad taste," Anna said, sighing as well. "N-Not that the gift isn't substantial or worthy, mind you, not at ALL…"

Elsa shook her head in turn. "No, it certainly isn't that. They're actually quite lovely."

"…but still, my sister has a rather 'delicate' history with gloves like these," Anna followed up. "To the point where she very rarely wears them, save for specific engagements of the crown; public events, meetings with dignitaries and so on."

"But almost never in private," Kristoff added dryly, scratching the back of his neck while looking away. "Not that I know of the Queen's private affairs, of course. Just an educated guess."

Anna looked back at Kristoff with a searching and confused glance. 'What was THAT supposed to mean?' she thought, reading nothing upon Kristoff's face beyond awkward gruffness. Before she could inquire verbally, Elgar had approached, his large boots clopping hollow and loud upon the hardwood.

"I fail to see your reasoning, my Queen, my Princess," the man said slowly. "Unless, of course, you were under the impression that my gift was meant to impede or otherwise degrade your innate winter sorcery?"

"What would give you that impression?" asked the queen.

"Well, if memory serves, that is what your father—the late king—had intended, yes?" Elgar inquired. "Or was the delegate of the Holy Spanish Union simply blowing smoke up our shirts?"

"The delegate of the what?" Anna demanded, leaning forward. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Well he made a curious observation, whilst visiting this kingdom over the summer," Elgar said, looking up and stroking his beard. "As the evening of the coronation came to a close, he witnessed a small disagreement between her Majesty and her Highness. This was from some distance away, but apparently, during said argument, the princess removed one of your gloves, my Queen. As you started to leave, the princess called out to you, and if memory serves, as you swung your ungloved hand to dismiss her…"

SNAP went his fingers. "…a wall of icy spikes was thrown to the ground, covering the carpet and shocking the delegation out of their wits. They pulled back with disbelief—and suspicious fear, though that was predominantly the Duke of Weselton—as you recoiled and ran from the room. The rest, as they say, is history."

He leaned close and gestured towards the gloves with his chin. "The Spanish Delegate was quite insistent that the GLOVES were most responsible for hiding your powers while mingling with your guests. Somehow they allow your powers to remain dormant, or at least stable and bound to your hands, unable to interact with the air around them. His claim was unusual, but given your apprehension, I suppose the account he relayed to the Ludenorian delegate was correct after all."

Anna was about to speak, but Elsa quickly and gently cut her off with a slice of her hand. The queen had the floor for the moment and Anna needed to give her a chance to speak, and investigate, where this was going.

"Your inference, however long-winded, is correct, sir," Elsa said patiently. "I wore the gloves to mitigate the unpredictable nature of my abilities."

"And since your father insisted you wear the gloves as a child," Elgar continued, on a roll, "it can be inferred that he gave you the gloves specifically to assist you with the management of your powers. A gift, from father to daughter, so that your other, unrequested gifts, might not go awry…correct?"

The Queen followed with a deep sigh before solemnly nodding her head. "Right again, sir."

The man nodded as well, never breaking eye contact with the woman. He seemed to be pulling back, reserving himself for some future conflict or clash, which could only be guessed at for the moment. He wasn't grandstanding, not really, but surveying the reactions and emotional state of his audience.

'What is he trying to pry out of me, I wonder?' thought the queen. 'Have I given away something without meaning to?'

"My queen, a question, if I may…" he began, stretching taller and gesturing a hand outward. "Do you notice a theme, if any, associated with the gifts I have bestowed thus far?"

Elsa rubbed her hands together and looked between Anna and Kristoff. "They're both very intricate, very professional and very dangerous."

"Touché, Majesty," the man said with grin. "You are correct on all counts, naturally. But I might add that there is another similarity – they are both tools. One is designed for tackling mountain terrain, the other for the defense of one's person and property. And loved ones, of course."

"Point taken," Elsa admitted.

"That being said, my Queen," Elgar surmised, gesturing again to the gloves once more, "it would seem logical that I would offer you a gift of a similar persuasion. After all, if the Princess is permitted a new way of expressing her talents, why would I deny such an opportunity to the Queen?"

Before Elsa could respond, the lord moved closer to her, keeping his face placid and open, his eyes owl-like but kind. He seemed intent on making the queen feel at ease, almost guiding her towards the chest as a nurse guides a feeble patient to a glass of water.

"I would ask that you reserve judgement, my Queen, until after you have approached my gift," Elgar insisted, friendly and almost genial. "True, the representation associated with such a garment is rather unpleasant to you NOW, but I believe you will be pleasantly surprised by just how unusual this gauntlets are. You will associate them less with your past and much more with your potential future. In my humble opinion."

The queen approached the box with Anna by her side, looking into the ebony case and pursing her lips as if she were sucking something sour and bitter. Her shoulders actually shook, both at the implication that these gloves were more than they appeared and at the notion that they were in direct antithesis of what she expected. How would they react once place upon her hands? How would her HANDS react to them?

"It's alright, Elsa," Anna said, her voice and breathe tickling the side of the queen's head in a pleasant and treacherous fashion. "You don't have to accept them. They are a gift, not an obligation."

She looked over her shoulder at the man, her eyes lidded and fierce. "Isn't that right, my Lord?"

Elgar looked as if he wanted to add another point to the conversation, but upon seeing the determination in Anna's eyes, he thought better of it and retreated a few inches. He folded his hands behind his back, chest out and eyes level, before slowly nodding his head and saying "Yes, of course, Princess, they are hers to accept. Or reject."

Anna turned back to the queen. "See? Just because Kristoff and I accepted our gifts, it doesn't mean you have to, not if they make you uncomfortable."

Elsa remained silent, her mind a tumble of ideas and possibilities.

"You can say no," Anna said, her voice a comforting constant. "You can choose to say no."

The queen flashed back to the day of her coronation. The delegates, the guests, the dignitaries and her kingdom out in force, gathered in and around the chapel, waiting and watching for their new queen. She was standing at the head of the aisle again, basically alone and face to face with the Bishop. He'd visited the kingdom for the specific task of breaking Elsa's title of 'princess' and bestowing upon her—in the name of whatever God was listening and before the entirety of her nation—her Queen-hood. That day, she'd had no option but to grasp the Orb and Scepter of the Kingdom of Arendelle; she could not be encumbered by any barrier or article of clothing. So, she had shed her gloves, the one true protective measure she had against public embarrassment or diplomatic suicide. For thirty terrifying seconds, the Queen was exposed, practically naked before the whole of her kingdom, and this realization caused her frost to creep forward, silent but insidious, from her shaking, desperate hands.

But she'd had no choice.

She had pulled it off. No harm done, no one had been the wiser of her momentary slip. She'd quit the heavy baubles of gold and jewels as quickly as decorum would allow, snatching up her gloves like an opium fiend seizes a pipe. The rest of the ceremony was met with cheers and applause, the kingdom was happy, her sister seemed happy. Everything seemed to be going so well.

…until the heinous betrayal of her own abilities not three hours later. The fallout. The mounting anxiety. The reaction of so many people to her innate gifts… and how it spiraled out of control. Before anyone could pull the situation back from the brink of hysteria, the accusations of witchcraft, sorcery and 'monstrous' behavior had spread throughout the castle. This time, Elsa could not simply slip a glove back over her hand and pretend that nothing had happened. It was out. Bare.

So, Elsa had run.

She'd had no choice.

NOW, she did. She was not prostrated before the masses; she was in private. She was not receiving a Kingdom, she was receiving a gift from her honored guest. She didn't stand alone before a holy pulpit; Anna was with her, close, warm and supportive, ready to stand against any assailing force, bolstered by her developing skills and a fiercely crafted weapon. She wasn't here because of some expected regal priority; she'd come of her own free will, to listen, to speak and do as she would.

She had all the choice in the world.

She smiled, nodding to herself just much as she was nodding to Anna, sucking in a breath to restart her thoughts in the here and now.

"You're right. I do," Elsa said, leaning towards the chest. "And today, I choose to say 'yes'."

Elsa was upon the gloves with little hesistation. The cool metal was pleasant against her fingers as she gripped the hem, slipping them over her hands and along her wrists. The material was surprisingly light, but it was far from delicate. The woman felt as though she were donning work gloves or perhaps thick winter mittens, laced with dense fibers and impervious to damage. But even then, the gloves were graceful, smooth and soft, sitting atop the skin of the queen like the sheer material of a nightgown, partially transparent and sparking electricity across her flesh. The queen felt her mouth form an 'O' shape, silently excited by the decadent texture as it nourished her skin.

"Gracious but they are soft," the queen admired, gliding her hands over her arms. "How ever did you manage to spin the silver wire so thin that it wouldn't break or bind?"

"All shall be explained in good time, my Queen," Elgar explained, his eyes hungrily appraising the queen as she stretched her arms. "But first, I believe we need a demonstration: a proper presentation of their powerful proclivities."

"Again with the tongue twisters…" Kristoff said.

"I think of it as artful alliteration," Elgar quipped, looking back to Elsa. "Now, my Queen, do you see that iron sphere atop the cart?"

Elsa looked to her right. "The cannon shot?"

"Exactly," Elgar said. "If you would be so kind, please take the ball into your hand and cover it in a thin layer of ice."

Elsa arched an eyebrow but complied, reaching into the bed of sand and plucking the iron ball from its nestled place within. As soon as the ball touched her hands, a sheen of ice, translucent and smooth, covered the surface, the crackling similar to that of a glass warping under pressure.

"Well that was… instantaneous, wasn't it?" Anna observed, eyes widening.

"It was," Elgar agreed, "and exactly as I had predicted. The next part, however, is entirely experimental. Queen Elsa, now that you have immersed the ball in ice, I am curious…can you levitate the sphere in mid-air?"

"Levitate?" Elsa asked, seemingly perplexed.

"I noticed that you can create articles and shapes out of ice and float them above your hand," Elgar said, pointing to the sphere. "Such as the day we met in the forge and you…'demonstrated' your prowess to me. You created a beautiful, giant snowflake, dancing it about in the air as if it weighed nothing at all. My theory is that you are capable of doing the same with anything that is shod in snow or ice…including this iron shot."

He gestured over to the cart. "If it makes you more comfortable, Majesty, stand behind the cart and hold the sphere above it. That way, if I'm wrong, you'll simply drop the ball into a bed of sand…no harm done."

Elsa did as she was bid, walking gingerly to the other side of the cart, facing the front of the ballroom. Anna stood to the left of her sister, while Kristoff stood nearer to Elgar, watching from off to one side. All eyes were trained on the sphere betwixt the fingers of the queen, her shoulders square as she balanced it above the cart.

"Can you really do that?" Anna asked in a whisper, equal parts fascination and worry. "Make something fly if it's covered in ice?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Elsa shrugged, her dainty shoulders bunched with muscle as she held the heavy sphere aloft. "I don't think it's 'flying', so much as controlling the direction of the ice. If I can do it with a snowball, I suppose the principal is the same…"

"We shall certainly find out, won't we?" Elgar said, tenting his fingers. "When you're ready, my Queen…"

Elsa took a breath and focused her energies upon the ball. She could feel her wintery reserves pouring across her body from deep within her center, bubbling up from her stomach, flowing across her chest, over her shoulders and down her arms. She expected the telltale throb of resistance within her mind which always made her push, hard, against her own inner defenses, so that her powers might flow more freely…

…but none came. Instead, there was a feeling of suction, as if a vacuum had been created at the tips of her fingers. Her powers always seemed to have a slight up-hill twinge to them, as if they were fighting to gain ground, even though they seemed to flow gracefully from her body. NOW, the dips and hills and valleys that her energy always had to hurdle seemed to have disappeared. The terrain was level, clear and straight, bidding her energy out from wherever it sheltered inside the queen, to play, roam and explore.

It happened before she realized it. The ball, dangling several inches above the queen's fingers and spinning in a slow, lazy wobble, seemed weightless and at home where it hung, the faintest of radiances clinging to the surface like a shield of light.

"You're doing it, Elsa!" Anna cheered, unaware even of her own exuberance as she clapped her hands. "My Gods, look at THAT!"

Elsa felt herself smile, looking upon the iron ball as if it were a shiny new toy. The weight of the object had left her hands entirely and seemed to be resting solely upon the 'arms' of her powers, suspending the ball so that none of her muscle bore the load. She may as well have been lifting a feather, but even a feather could be felt upon the skin. But this was a new sensation entirely – weightless manipulation of her surroundings.

"Exquisite control, your Grace," Elgar commented, offering a small applause with his spindle-like fingers. "It seems my theory was correct. And now, if you'll indulge me just a little further, I have one more request of you."

"Still satisfying some scientific curiosity?" Kristoff asked, keeping his eyes on the spinning iron above his head.

"In a way," Elgar admitted, turning from the ice-master to the queen and back again. "But I'm more curious as to just how focused the Queen's energies can be."

"What would you have me do?" Elsa asked, looking toward the man. "Make the ball do tricks?"

"No, nothing so crass," Elgar explained. "I would simply have you repeat the action you performed earlier: I want you to create the thickest layer of ice around this ball that you can, while keeping it suspended above your head."

Elsa looked to Anna and back to the lord, offering a cheeky grin. "Well that shouldn't be too difficult."

"BUT," Elgar clarified, raising a finger. "I want you do it WITHOUT making the ball any larger. Keep the sphere the same size throughout, with no deviation."

Despite her falter, Elsa kept the ball suspended exactly where it had been, her eyes wide and incredulous at what the man had just asked of her. "I beg your pardon?!"

"I know this requests sounds odd-"

"It's more than odd, it spits in the face of all logic," Anna said, tapping the butt of her spear impatiently on the ground. "How can she create a thick layer of ice without the ball getting bigger?"

"Or heavier?" Kristoff offered.

"These are valid points, one and all," Elgar said, nodding and grinning in a pleasant fashion. "But I think you'll find that my request isn't so impossible, my Queen, though it may require a change in perspective."

"Explain," Elsa demanded.

Elgar offered a malevolent chuckle, but stopped himself short as if he had remembered his behavior and thought better of his amusement. "Well, what IS ice, anyway, my queen? In its simplest definition, ice is the transfer of liquid water into a solid as heat is removed. As I'm sure you've noticed, when water freezes, it tends to increase in volume, or rather, take up more space, when it solidifies, yes?"

"The extensive damage to the castle's artwork during the summer freeze would support such an idea, yes," Elsa admitted, thinking it over. "But doesn't that confound the issue further? How can I freeze the ball while making sure the volume stays the same?"

"By creating a different TYPE of ice," Elgar said, spreading his hands in the direction of the iron shot. "An ice which, by its very definition, seems impossible to conceptualize. So thick, so cold, so impervious to heat, it has been given the definition 'Cryo Infinitum': the ice of infinity."

"Sounds like a lot of nonsense," Kristoff said, folding his arms. "No matter how cold it gets, all ice melts. It's a natural law."

"Ahhh, perhaps it is, Master Kristoff," Elgar said, spreading his hands, "but then, we aren't exactly dealing with purely natural forces here, are we?"

"What are you implying?" Anna asked.

"That perhaps your sister has the ability to 'bend' the natural laws concerning the precipitation of cold and ice and snow. Perhaps even break them," Elgar said, a note of excitement in his voice. "You see, it has only been theorized by the members of the Ludenorian Science council, but they, along with myself, have often postulated the existence of a 'Dead Freeze', a type of cold so pervasive and so lasting that it cannot be found on Earth, not even at the northernmost Pole. All attempts to recreate this 'Dead Freeze' have failed, predominantly because our skill set—even as alchemic practitioners—has limits. The transmogrification of materials from one composition into another is still a young science, and so we have yet to master the details pertaining to temperature…so far."

He looked Elsa in the eye. "But YOU, my queen, YOU have no such limits. The gloves upon your hands should rip down any thermal barrier and allow you to recreate the conditions necessary for such a fundamentally different type of ice. YOU, good majesty, may be able to recreate something that no man—or woman—on earth has even come close to. It is all, quite literally, within your hands."

Elsa let out a whistling breath, her eyes sharp and her heartrate steady but strong. The suspended iron sphere responded in kind, spinning much more rapidly, creating a tiny hissing sound as it twirled. The spin was almost gyroscopic, creating a strange pull that brought everyone in the room closer together.

"Is…is it dangerous?" Elsa asked, looking to Anna and Kristoff with concern.

Elgar tilted his head. "I shouldn't think so, no. But then, this would be an experiment in every sense of the word. I'm really not entirely sure what will happen, should you succeed."

The look the queen shot her sister was a question. Anna answered it with a cautiously optimistic "Well, we've gone this far..."

Then, much to her own surprise, the queen shot the same glance to Kristoff. He, too, read the same question in her eyes and was flummoxed that such an inquiry was leveled at him.

"You want my opinion? Why?" Kristoff asked, slightly irate.

"Of course I do, because this concerns your potential safety, too," Elsa said, looking down slightly, "Something I said I would never restrict or endanger, if you'll remember."

He did. The look in his eyes said he did. The momentary flash of painful memory was thankfully fleeting, but he remembered exactly what the queen meant. It had stuck with him, whether he'd made verbal mention of it or not, since that auspicious evening almost a week earlier. Though he'd seemed dubious about the authenticity of such a decree at the time, the reminder seemed to be enough to bring him back around, however infinitesimally, to the truth of her words.

He didn't dare speak it, but he appreciated the consideration, even if it was from his most unexpected rival.

He sighed and scratched his dirty blonde hair, looking to the carpet and squaring his stance as he patted the head of his new axe. "Whatever be the best judgement of the queen…"

Elsa nodded and returned her attention to the larger of the two men. "That's three votes. So, my Lord, how do we proceed?"

The Ludenorian gave a sharp clap of his hands. "Bravo! You are already partway there, my Queen…continue to rotate the sphere, just as you are. Now, rotate it on another axis; you already have it spinning from right to left. Now, try to maintain that spin, but do it from top to bottom, and then diagonally. Three spinning axis's, all of which will allow for maximum exposure and coverage."

It took some doing, but Elsa complied. The spinning continued, but then changed as the ball dipped and swayed into a truly chaotic coalition of revolutions, up, down, left, right and at obtuse angles to itself. The human eye had a difficult time discerning the exact rate and attitude of each spin, but momentum seemed to carry the orb beyond the rational explanations of motion. It was beautiful…yet frightening.

"YES, good, well done," Elgar said, coming closer. "This will give us the necessary surface area…"

"But what about the ice?" Elsa said, mindful of keeping the ball aloft. "How do I form a layer thick enough to—?"

"You don't," Elgar clarified, "or rather, you must layer differently. Do no concentrate on creating ICE. Instead, create snowflakes…thousands, millions, BILLIONS of them, if possible, each one infinitely small and perfect. Draw them in, my Queen, and layer them, one by one, in a single sheet of icy perfection, a million crystals across, but with the thickness of a single flake. Then another layer, impressed upon the first, closer and closer and CLOSER…no possible space, no flaws, just a continuous stacking of flat, perfect crystals, pushed together until they fuse at a level undetectable to the human eye…"

"Like an infinite snowflake sandwich…" Anna pondered aloud. "So many toppings the bread is pressed into something thinner than a sheet of parchment…or thinner…"

Elgar barked another loud laugh. "Ha! An excellent analogy, Princess…yes! Construct the infinite ice-crystal sandwich, pressed into an area so small that the sandwich never changes shape or size."

Elsa looked at the pair as if they were insane, but tilted her head and blinked away any distractions… and began to weave.

Almost immediately, a corona of powder formed above the spinning iron orb, a cloud of sparkling diamond dust. The snow was being pulled from out of thin air, causing the ambient temperature in the room to drop sharply. The tendrils of snow spun up and around the sphere like smoke above a fire, ducking and turning with the movements of the queen. After a moment of magical hesitation, the snow seemed to pour from the floating cloud like sand through the neck of an hourglass, falling into the sphere like milk into the swirling vortex of a cup of tea.

"Continue, my Queen…" Elgar said, inching closer to the ever-turning orb. "You're on your way…continue…"

Elsa flexed her shoulders and oh, what a difference it made! The flurry grew in size, a bloom of a storm-cloud above her head, vomiting snow downwards by the gallon. The snow seemed to fall into an orbit around the sphere, forming a steadily falling circle that was almost liquid in appearance. The queen opened her eyes wider, leaning a bit of her weight into work, thrusting INTO the orb as opposed to simply around it.

Anna was the first to notice just how different the air felt…and the strange colors which permeated the space around Elsa's fingers.

"The gloves…!" she said, nearly breathless, "the gloves, they're…shining!"

Indeed, the gloves were coming to life with a vibrant display of light. The sinuous inlays of silver were beginning to glow. It started in low, then began to grow, harnessing light from an unknown source and creeping up along the beautifully interwoven designs. As the queen conjured her wintery magic, the gloves seemed to conjure the Moon, pulling the cold, freezing light from the heavens and streaking it across the arms of the powerful young woman.

"Concentrate, Elsa…" Elgar instructed. "The surface does not rise, it only falls, deeper, towards the iron sphere!"

Elsa was feeling a new strain in her body. The spigot which had controlled her powers had never been so freely opened before. What had been a steady stream for most of her life was now a mighty, gushing surge, boiling out of her body and falling like torrential rain from her fingertips. The queen felt as though she were trying to wrangle a massive snake, the coiling, redoubled musculature almost too powerful for her slight arms and fingers to control.

TOOOOF!

A torch, hanging high on the wall behind the group, suddenly snuffed itself out. It looked like a giant matchhead, all its chemical energy spent, smoking and silent. The abrupt noise had caught Anna and Kristoff's attention, causing them to look upwards and behold a frightening site.

"Great Gods of Asgard…!" Kristoff hushed, eyes huge and frightened.

A cloud, dark as the night and eerily silent, had formed above the group, high in the arch of the ceiling. Unlike the smaller cloud at the fingertips of the queen, this one did not roil or surge. It was expanding, slowly but sinisterly, to fill the entire cavity of the ceiling. As it descended, the air itself seemed to thicken, almost harden in place, which had a strangely energetic effect on the various torches and candles which surrounded the room.

TOOFTOOF! PUUFFT! TOOOSH!

The room was growing darker, even though the glow emitted by the queen only increased. Her very skin was beginning to shine with a metallic blue radiance, causing her blouse to flutter about her shoulders and press against her body. Waves of unseen energy seemed to be pushing outward from her gloved hands as she dumped mountain-slides of snow upon the surface of the ball. Even Elsa's eyes held an unearthly luster, billowing outwards from her irises and filling the space between the three onlookers like water between ice-cubes.

"It's…getting harder…!" Elsa gasped, looking deep into the iron sphere. "Such tremendous weight. I can barely understand it, it's HERE yet it isn't. I think, maybe…I think I can push it a little further…"

"Are you sure?" Anna asked, pulling her clothing closer to her body, looking at the menacing cloud with the same wide-eyed worry of the ice-master. "If it's too much, you can stop…"

"Don't stop!" Elgar said, clearly more of a command than a suggestion. "You're on the cusp, Majesty, so close to achieving something no one has ever seen before! Don't surrender now…you're almost there…!"

Elsa looked up for a moment and nearly fell over at the sight before her. The light from within her body shone brightly, illuminating every object around her: the cart, the surrounding chairs, the table behind her, her sister, Kristoff, the descending cloud of darkness blotting out the firelight…

…and Elgar. HE was the most brightly lit of all. The light wasn't simply reflecting off of his face and body, oh no; it PENETRATED far deeper than that. Rather than sparkle within his eyes or ripple across his skin, the man seemed to absorb the light like a beach absorbs the tide. Elsa felt almost delusional; surely her eyes were playing tricks. The blue-white light seemed to be wiping away the superficial layers of the Lord, revealing his inner workings. Flesh gave way to dense muscle, red and pulsing, and beneath that, long trails of blood and the whiteness of bone. His face was ghost-like and frightening, eye-sockets huge and teeth white as star-shine. Combined with his huge frame, smiling skull and curled fingers, the man was more ghoul than human, leering, searching, probing the queen with a ghastly visage of what could only be described as the living dead.

'Gods, what is that?!' screamed her brain, distracted and frightened. 'I can't even look him in the eye, it's like a…rotting corpse…!'

Her concentration was wavering. Downward came the cloud, dark and cold and heavier than a murderous conscience, while Kristoff and Anna almost cringed beneath it. She felt a shudder travel through her fingers, unimaginable energy causing them to curl and warp. A steady howl and hum began to fill the room, emanating from somewhere deep and hidden, but as loud as a storm-surge. She widened her stance, pushing her physical bodyweight into her hands, but the force exerted on her was so great it felt as though her body may be lifted from the ground. Her head was pounding now, thudding with her task, which seemed to be growing and swelling to something beyond her control.

It wouldn't be long before she knew her control would fail her…again.

"It's going to break…!" she hissed, gritting her teeth. "I'm going to lose my balance and it's going to break…!"

'ANNA…'

The queen's eyes went wide.

A voice, within her own head, had boomed itself into existence. The word, her sister's name, had flashed behind her eyes with the concussive force of a firework. On and on her powers poured, filling the sphere with unimaginable layers of ice, while her body seemed to pause, trying to understand this alien presence within her own skull.

'Who…who are you?' she asked the vast void within her mind. 'What is this? How do you speak to me in such a way?'

'ANNA…' repeated the voice, as heavy and powerful as before.

'Why do you speak of my sister?!' Elsa screamed inwardly, feeling as though her skull might crack. 'What is this? What do you want?!'

'REMEMBER YOUR ANNA,'thundered the voice, pressing Elsa into the floor with its sheer gravity. 'REMEMBER WHO SHE IS…TO YOU…'

'I don't understand!' she wailed, her faculties buckling, 'I don't know what it is you want me to do, please, tell me what you are! Tell me what you want!'

'HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?' accused the voice, beating the queen down with its question.

'Forgotten WHAT?!' Elsa begged, nearly at her limit, looking to her side for one brief moment to see the bewildered, frightened eyes of her sister. 'Forgotten her? She's here! What could I have forgotten?!'

'THEN BE REMINDED…AND BREAK THROUGH.'

'Oh…GODS…!'

The queen was inundated with images, sights and sounds. Gone was the iron ball, gone was the ballroom, gone was all sense of her physical body. Instead, the queen was catapulted to new places of sensation and understanding.

And then there she was! Anna, in her green nightgown, tripping over her little five-year-old feet as she scuttled across the carpet toward the ballroom. Elsa followed, silent, an apparition, a specter, almost flying after her baby sister as she ran, grasping the hand of the queen as it had been when she was still a seven-going-on-eight-year-old-princess. The chubby cheeks of her sister looked over shoulder, smiling back at Elsa, her eyes alight with the fire that comes with unabashedly innocent youth.

"Come on come on come ON!" she howled with delight. "The sky's awake, Elsa…it's time to play!"

'What is this?' Elsa thought, her mind strangely quiet and sublime. 'I can't speak…my body…is this even my body? It's moving on its own…I don't know why I'm here…'

Then another barrier was broken through. Though she seemed to have no body, Elsa could feel it shatter against 'her', like pressing her face through a wall of wet sand. A flash of time and then Elsa was beside her bedroom window, looking upon her garden, a light snowfall descending upon the trees and bushes. She leaned forward, her nose pressed against the glass, watching as Anna, in a winter parka, strolled amongst the frozen leaves of the slumbering plant life. She was older now, maybe thirteen, her face red with the cold and her hair tasseled behind her ears. The white streak was back upon her head, which the Queen focused on with dreadful unease. She pressed outwards upon her window, her sixteen-year-old hands curled their fingers against the glass, creating a horrible squeaking sound. That white streak of hair culled any ambition she might have had to open the window and call out to her sister. Instead, she lowered her head and sighed with a soaking sadness, before turning away to the safety and seclusion of her room.

'These are memories, aren't they?' Elsa spoke to no one as her journey continued through another layer of her own consciousness. 'Some I know, some I've lost to time. Is that what you meant, you whatever-you-are? Is this what I have forgotten?'

Addressing the ghostly voice which had invaded her mind seemed fruitless. She continued to spin away, crashing through another wall and shattering to a thousand shards, only to be reformed once more. This time, the sounds of laughter down a hallway. It was Anna, in the light of a torch, sometime before supper. Elsa was walking towards her room when she'd heard her sister, tittering and giggling, as a young foot soldier tried to politely shoo her away. Elsa leaned into the shadow of the corridor, hidden in a corner, her ears perked up. It was then she realized that Anna was being far more than just friendly. Perhaps it was from a combination of loneliness and boredom, or maybe it had to do with the fact that their parents had only departed two days earlier for Corona, but Anna was being practically flirtatious with the young house-guard. The queen listened with a jealously that was as bitter as it was silent. True, the older princess would rather her sister NOT appear so openly interested in men, especially men that were six years her senior. But it was beyond that, now. Elsa wanted to join in, rush to Anna and assist her with making the guard blush through his uniform, scurry away afterwards to the scolding sounds of Gerda, admonishing them for being so unladylike. They would barricade themselves in either of their rooms, munching on fried vegetables and sipping cocoa, reading and talking and wasting the evening away, while Elsa made little frosted crystals on the carpet.

But instead, she cursed under her breath and marched slowly in the other direction, the sound of her sister's sweet voice peppering the back of her head with tiny, razor-tipped arrows of regret. In her wake, she left a trail of angry frost.

'Where is this leading?' Elsa asked the parade of memories. 'Will you torture me with my past until I break?! What are you asking of me?!'

They were coming faster now. Each new threshold met the queen with a new, ascending memory, breaking across her face like weightless raindrops. Though their speed seemed to increase, the queen was able to see each moment with striking clarity.

Anna running down the stairs with a massive load of clothing to donate to the poor, before toppling end over end onto the floor with an indignant look on her face.

The sound of weeping on the other side of Elsa's door, on the anniversary of their parents death, the princess so desperately close to the queen and yet still so far away, separated by two blasted inches of wood.

The distinct absence of the weeping a year after that, hitting Elsa with the realization that if Anna was to grieve, it would be away from her untouchable, unreachable sister.

The sight of her, several months later, as she stood, frightened and confused, before her new Queen, trying to figure out how ICE had manifested itself on the floor of the ballroom in front of the whole congregation.

The sound of her voice ringing throughout her citadel, pleading with the queen to return to Arendelle, that she might thaw the summer blizzard and unfreeze the kingdom.

The abject look of horror on her face, frozen in icy perfection, as Anna stood solidified between Hans and the queen, her arm outstretched to defend her sister from the fall of his sword.

Elsa wanted to run, hide, but she had no legs. She wanted to close her eyes, but she seemed to have no face. She wanted to cover her ears and scream, to drown out the sounds of her greatest failures, but she had no ears to cover or voice to strain.

She was given a reprieve, mercifully. From that moment on, things seemed to improve. The crashing of each invisible shield was quickly filling with images of the new and infinitely improved. She could almost feel the embrace of Anna's arms as her prison of ice melted away, revealing a relieved and thankful young princess, warm and breathing and whole again.

Then days later, as the two of them shared a meal for the first time in years, the queen was unable to keep her eyes off of the young woman scarfing her porridge.

The reconstruction of the kingdom, which saw the two women working near the wharf and harbor, moving bales of cotton, rolling carts to and fro, loaded with drinks and food for the day-laborers, winking and smiling at one another as they toiled long into the summer nights.

The relieved, hungry, ecstatic expression upon the face of the princess as Elsa descended from Sven's back and swept her off the frozen forest floor, scooping her away from danger, away from Elgar, from the bear and anything else that might raise a hand against her younger sister.

The feeling of her body tightly pressed against her bosom as they rode the mighty horse Viento across the frozen inlet.

The sight of her steaming, freshly-washed body as she emerged from her bathtub, slick with soapy water and totally unaware of Elsa's hidden duck-blind not fifteen feet away.

The look of absolute endearment upon her face as they argued within the empty, judgement-free walls of their parents' bedchamber, before Anna's pulse, voice and lips carried away all the doubt the Queen may have had about just how important Anna had become to her.

It found her, then. As soft and pliant as silk, it wrapped around her head and settled her throbbing brain, knowing exactly what she needed to know, which had been with her, from the beginning, seemingly untapped and ready for use like a fresh spring of water.

'OH,' came a shot of clarity. 'So that's what it was…'

Her 'fall' was reversed. Backwards she flew, each layer of her collective memory rushing past her again as a continuous spool of time, light and touch.

As she fell, her smile grew. As it grew, her mind settled.

As it settled, her powers bloomed.

"Elsa!" came the distant voice of her sister, coming into sharper focus, "sweet Freya…what have you done?!"

She opened her eyes, her ACTUAL eyes. Anna was directly in front of her, hands clasped, eyes wide, leaning close as if to touch her sister, but keeping a reluctant distance. She followed her sister's gaze and beheld a fresh set of wonders.

The cloud was gone! Vanished, like a bad dream. Instead, the ballroom was once more bright with torch and candlelight, the devices miraculously re-lit and burning strong. The room no long swirled with blue-white energy, tumultuous and taciturn. Instead, the air was clear and shockingly warm, despite the massive deposit of snow which the queen had summoned. It was almost as if the typhoon of darkness had simply changed its mind, leaving the castle so that it might haunt some other unlucky soul.

Her gloves, however, continued to pulse with frosted potential. Elsa looked as if she had dipped her hands into molten moonlight, liquid and throbbing with borrowed power from the sun, yet infinitely cold and unapproachable.

Anna, as close as she dared, seemed fixated on Elsa. No sign of fear could be found upon her face, but rather a cautious fascination. This face was one of millions that Elsa was privy to, each one unique and darling and dear to the queen. She should know: Elsa had just witnessed a veritable museum of Anna's, all in different states of alarm and joy and arousal and desire and happiness.

This one, it seemed, was a rounding-off of that tour through their shared history. But in this case, the Princess was more than just a woman with possession of the queen's heart. She was a dynamo, bringing untold energies to the tips of Elsa's fingers, without allowing them to spin off into anarchy.

'Hey there, little sis,' Elsa thought, serene and clear. 'You spent so many years on the other side of my door. But in here? In this prism of dissonance that is my mind? You never left my side. You've been a light, a fire, a personal star of mine – so powerful and subtle and within my reach. How has it taken me this long to see? Have you always grounded this tempest within my breast?'

She wanted to reach out and touch the cheek of her sister, though she dared not drop her concentration.

'…Have I always been yours, my little Anna?'

Elgar and Kristoff approached, almost reverently, coming up on either side of the princess as she looked, unblinking and unbelieving, at her queen. As shocked as they seemed to be by the radical change of their surroundings, they, like the princess, could not take their eyes off of her latest miracle, hovering between her fingers.

"Congratulations, Queen Elsa," Elgar said, hoarse with amazement, his long fingers reaching hesitantly towards the queen and her quarry. "You have created the Cryo Infinitum – a focal point of virtually unending, perfect cold. Thermal arrest: a singularity of absolute zero."

The iron sphere was gone. In its place, hanging almost placidly between Elsa's glowing fingers, sat an orb of deepest black upon black. The edges of the circle, no bigger in size but immaculately round in shape, were difficult to identify. It was almost as if the small group were looking over the side of a razor…they were aware that an edge was PRESENT, but could not assign it length, width or any other logical dimension.

Even more disturbing, the darkness seemed so absolute that not even the burning torches or candles produced a reflection upon it. This added to the oddity of the sphere, which seemed flatter and more two-dimensional with each passing moment.

"Anybody else feel like they are being… drawn, towards this thing?" Kristoff said. "I almost feel like I'm being stretched a little bit..."

"Yeah…" Anna said, tentatively reaching out a hand and smiling almost playfully. "It actually feels kind of nice, like my hand and arm don't weigh quite as much as they normally do."

"Ah Ah Ah! No touching, good master, young princess!" Elgar said, using his impressive wingspan to push the two younger adults back a solid yard. "I do believe you would regret it and regret it dearly, if you did."

"Why?" Elsa said, suddenly afraid and pulling back her arms. "What haven I created? Is it dangerous?!"

Elgar put up a reassuring hand. "I don't believe so, Majesty. So long as this 'focal point' is contained within the cradle of your powers, I do believe it is safe. It exists only because your powers enable it, and once they are gone, it should decay, rapidly… in theory."

"In THEORY?" Elsa said, almost shrieking as she subconsciously shrank away from her own creation.

"It strikes me that perhaps this would have been better tested if we were outside," Kristoff said with a note of growing anxiety.

"Elgar, what have you gotten her into?!" Anna demanded, trying to get past the shield of his forearm. "If you harm a hair on her head…!"

"SHE is in control, young highness," Elgar corrected, allowing his voice to carry a bit, "and so long as she remains in control, there is no looming catastrophe. Do you trust your sister?"

Elsa met Anna's eyes for a moment at the asking of the question. Elsa looked legitimately unsure of what Anna's answer might be, given everything that had transpired between them. The thought of what she might say gave the queen a visible tremor, causing her ever-darkening orb to waver.

But Anna barely hesitated. Her pause seemed to be at the absurdity of the question versus the question itself. She reached forward, pushing Elgar's large arm down and out of the way like a branch across a path, leaning closer to her queen, even though she could go no further.

"Of COURSE I trust her!" Anna said, her face hot with every implication of her statement. "I never stopped trusting her, but I'm never going to stop wanting to keep her safe, too. If that thing is dangerous, we need to get rid of it! Now!"

Elsa smiled. The steadying of her hands and the stabilization of the orb reiterated just how apropos her inward journey had been, in how it presented the queen with her truest source of calm, control and focus. Though her inner mind chastised her for it with cruel reproach, the desire to sweep the princess of her feet was so strong at that moment that it felt as if the queen would rupture, like a pipe swollen with too much water to contain.

"Then let us see if we can dispose of it safely, yes, Highness?" Elgar said, nodding towards the queen. "Queen Elsa, can you put some distance between yourself and the sphere?"

"Distance?" Elsa asked, almost grinning with the absurdity of the statement.

Kristoff, almost reluctantly, raised his head in realization. "I think I see what he means…"

Anna turned to the ice-master. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Kristoff winced slightly at the comment, which Anna seemed to regret in the same moment, but there wasn't time for recrimination.

"You can keep the ball floating in the air, right?" Kristoff asked the queen. "Keep it suspended as is?"

"Yes, obviously." Elsa said.

"Well, can you keep it in one place?" Kristoff suggested. "Keep it right there, but walk yourself closer to us?"

"That was the gist of my suggestion, yes," Elgar said, a dry chuckle under his voice.

Elsa took their meaning and began to move. Spreading her arms a bit wider, as if she were about to start clapping, the queen pulled herself away from the cart, step by careful step. Though there was a slight yaw to the sphere as she moved, the blackened hole in the air stayed essentially in the same place.

"That should be sufficient, my Queen," Elgar said, speaking to the woman over her shoulder as she joined the small group. "I estimate that the object you have created is fairly heavy, so, perhaps you should simply allow it to fall to the cart. It might be damaged slightly, but it should catch the sphere as soon as you let it go."

Elsa was apprehensive. "Are you sure about that?"

Elgar shrugged the broad sail of his upper body. "No, but you can't keep your arms up forever. I think this is the best method, given the situation."

Elsa looked to her sister, standing mindfully by her side, fascinated and terrified by what her Queen had created. She was equally apprehensive; everything from her semi-crouched stance to her bitten lower lip told the queen as much. She knew she must look equally unsure to Anna, no matter how intimidating her practically fluorescent gloves may have appeared.

She swallowed, pulled back her shoulders and focused on the ball.

"Well…here goes…" she said through her teeth.

With a startling flash, the gloves lost their radiance and became still. Elsa let her hands fall to her side, her power cut-off and her body relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.

They waited. They watched.

Four pairs of eyes observed the sphere as it hobbled, very gently, for several seconds in the air. At first, the quartet were amazed at how stable and seemingly perfect Elsa's creation was. It almost felt alive, watching and responding silently to the group as they watched and waited for whatever might happen next. There was something serene in it, like a boulder gently sitting in the middle of a lake, untouched and pristine.

Anna laughed softly, shrugging to herself. "Heh…maybe it doesn't want to evaporate?"

"I'd be a little worried if it WANTED anything." Kristoff said nervously.

Elsa scratched her chin. "Maybe I should—"

SHUUHH-BO0O0O0O0O0O0O0O00MMMMM!

Sparks flew and the ground buckled. The flash of light which proceeded the shockwave nearly blinded the queen, her hands flying outwards in self-defense. Anna, without the use of her eyes and with her ears almost bleeding, flew to Elsa's side, wrapping her body around the queen to shield her with it. The two fell to the ground, huddled together, awaiting death or life or whatever might follow such a tremendous explosion.

Elsa opened her eyes. At first, the spots she saw vibrated in time with her ears, making it difficult to tell if she were looking up, down or straight ahead. In time, her vision cleared, allowing for form and shape and depth to reassert themselves once more.

Elsa's body was covered in a thick layer of powder, most likely owing to the projection of her powers in her fit of panic. Above and around her, Anna clutched at her shoulders, cradling Elsa's head into her shoulder, protecting her face and neck. The princess was clenching her teeth and scrunching up her nose as if she were expecting to be struck by something, but she seemed unharmed.

Anna, in tandem, looked down at her sister. The princess sighed loudly, closing her eyes in relief as she spoke. "Are you alright Elsa?"

The queen nodded, little bits of snow tumbling from her cheeks. "Yes, I…I think so. Are you?"

The princess nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I, uh…I'm a little chilly. But I'm alright."

"Oh, good…yeah, I mean, I think I snowed. Sleeted. What's the verb for making snow?" Elsa asked.

"Almost twenty-two years, yet we haven't found that word yet, have we?" Anna said with a silly smile.

"Yeah, heh…I guess not."

"Yeah…"

"Well, I'm glad we figured all THAT out…" came a man's voice.

Elsa and Anna turned to look ahead of them. The room was filled with a haze of mist and fog, almost like the ballroom had been transported to the harbor on balmy spring morning. It was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of one's face. The two women could make out a barrier mound of snow, which sat between the pair and the small cataclysm which had just erupted in their ballroom. It was about seven feet high and wide, nearly six feet deep and packed fairly solid. The side immediately facing the princess and her queen seemed irregular though; perhaps because it contained a human being.

"Oh, Kristoff! I'm sorry!" Elsa said, grabbing the sides of her face.

The man was buried up to his chin in packed snow. His head protruded from the side of the mound like some odd petunia blossom, hair blown back in frozen tips, his nose and his eyes red with irritation.

"I'll get you out, hold on!" Elsa said.

"He looks like a little hedgehog with a huge face…!" Anna said, amazed and chuckling under her breath.

"Hilarious…" Kristoff grumbled as the snow began to dissolve around him.

Inside of a few seconds, the man was upright and standing again, brushing his hair with his free hand. With his other, he replaced Svart Tann in its sling, the axe firmly at home on his hip.

"Wait a second," Anna said, looking Kristoff over. "You were NEXT to us; how did you get in front of Elsa's snow-blast?"

The man was adjusting the cuffs of his tunic, refusing to look behind him as he did. "Don't worry about it."

Elsa raised a finger inquisitively. "No no, she's right. I thought I had a clear line of sight-"

"I SAID, don't worry about it," Kristoff repeated, enunciating.

It clicked for the princess after a second. Her face went limp and suddenly very distressed, but it was laced with something happy and somewhat shocked. She smiled sheepishly, causing Elsa to tug on her shirt, looking for an answer.

"Anna? What is it?"

The princess cupped her hand around Elsa's ear, lowering her voice. "He put himself between us and that… whatever that was. That's how he got blasted by you."

The queen immediately felt warmth in her cheeks, her eyes larger and somewhat doe-like. The fingers of one hand laying across her collar-bone as she hummed to herself, partly out of happiness and partly in disbelief. "Oh, my…Kristoff…"

"Oh for goodness sake, it was just a reaction!" Kristoff said harshly over his shoulder, continuing to clean his clothing. "Stop making a big deal out of it…"

The girls had a combined urge to reach for the man, to express some form of gratitude for his chivalrous 'reaction', but his prickly attitude seemed to distance him, in a way, from the both of them. The girls stood apart from him, and then from each other, finding the situation a little more awkward than it probably should have been.

"Do we know what happened?" Kristoff finally asked.

Elsa shrugged, before slowly reaching to the gloves and sliding them from her hands. "I'm not sure, really. It seemed like something exploded, but as to how? Elgar didn't say anything about that happening."

"Speaking of which, where is he?" Anna asked, searching through the mist.

"Hmmm," came a familiar voice in the near distance. "That was unexpected..."

The haze was dissipating around the trio, revealing the large man standing nearer to the cart.

Or at least, what was left of it.

"Are you injured, sir?" Elsa asked, walking closer to the scene of carnage, keeping her eyes wide and carefully focused.

"No, my Queen, I am unharmed," said the lord, bent as the waist and looking down at the ground. "Though the same cannot be said of this work-table."

The cart looked as if it had been pinched by a giant pair of fingers. The top shelf was drastically concaved. The iron was bent and compressed in a way that belied the density of the metal, giving the impression that the blackened frame had been struck by something several hundred times its size and weight. All of the sand seemed to have vaporized, leaving the surface scared and deeply aggravated. Two of the wheels had been blasted off their axles, lying across the carpet some yards away. The others seemed to have been crushed in place, the circular iron folded inward like melons crushed underfoot. Tools were scattered outwards from the second shelf. Even the anvil, which sat some distance away, had been blown off of its perch, the horn sitting upwards as it lay atop the hardwood.

Elgar seemed focused on the center of this carnage – a perfectly circular hole in the middle of the indentation, puncturing both the top and bottom shelves.

"Did I…?"

"No...Well yes, my Queen, technically you did," Elgar confirmed, stroking his beard, "but this was an unexpected side effect of what you created. I imagine that when your icy super-sphere struck the cart, the sheer force of the hit caused a small explosion."

"SMALL?" Anna called out, gesturing to the mangled tool carriage. "You call that small?"

"Well, relatively speaking," the man corrected with an almost silly grin.

"Lord Elgar," Elsa said, looking down at her hands with a mix of anxiety and awe, "what exactly did you do to these gloves? And what did I create with them?"

The man stood erect again and pondered for a moment, before saying, "In all honesty, dear Queen, I'm not sure it has a name."

"Is that a cryptic way of saying you don't know?" Kristoff asked.

"Yes, actually," Elgar confirmed, "Because I really don't. The Queen accomplished something that has long since been theorized by the Ludenor Science Academy, but never demonstrated or replicated in a real-world situation. It's as if she has plucked something from the heavens and showed it to us like a shiny new jewel, dangerous and beautiful and fascinating, all at once…"

"But what was it?" Elsa demanded again. "Did I create something… dangerous? Evil?"

The man let out a brief laugh before shaking his head. "No, not evil, and apparently no longer dangerous. The ball has seemingly fallen out of sight."

"So what WAS it that caused all that?" Anna asked, part of her itching to rip the gloves from Elsa's hands and cast them out the window.

"In a word? Weight," Elgar confirmed.

Elsa balked. "Whose weight?"

"The weight of the sphere," Elgar offered. "Think about it; you packed those snowflakes so close and thick upon that iron ball that they ceased to be snowflakes at all. They ceased to even be water, I imagine. The tiniest bits of matter which make up water were pressed and condensed and cooled to the point where, I believe, there simply wasn't any more reasonable space between them. You put so much ice into such a small place, Queen Elsa, that it changed the fundamental characteristics of your magically created snow."

"So the ball weighed MORE than it used to, because of what Elsa did?" Kristoff asked.

"Precisely!" the man confirmed. "Imagine it: something with the same mass as the North Mountain, condensed into something the size of a billiard-ball. All of the material would still be present, but it would be much smaller in size. By changing the configuration of the material, we change how it behaves, and how certain characteristics behave within it."

He pointed to the cart, gesturing to Kristoff. "Help me move the cart, Master Kristoff. I have a theory we should explore."

The man came forward to assist the lord, the two moving the cart to one side with little effort. Beneath it, several of the floorboards had buckled and split from the force of the cart being thrust into the ground.

But, in the center of the fray, sat another, unmistakably round hole. The puncture was eerily perfect, as if some ungodly sharp pair of scissors had simply carved the wood in one, single motion, without splintering or snapping it in two.

Anna came forward, kneeling closer, using her spear as a crutch as she looked down into the void.

"It just keeps going…oing…oing…oing…!" she said, her voice emitting a tinny echo as it bounced down the tube.

"And I would estimate it will, until it finds something to stop it in its tracks," Elgar surmised. "That ball probably weighs several thousand kilos, if not several HUNDRED thousand kilos, because of your conjuring, my Queen. In a way, you created something akin to a small, spherical island, constructed of extremely dense snow. This explains why the ball was ripped out of the air as violently as it was, why it crushed the carriage and punctured the floor, and why it just… kept going, as the princess observed. Because of its impressive mass and weight, the Earth pulls on it much harder than on any of us. It will most likely continue, down and down, until some kind of equilibrium is achieved. The surrounding stone within the Earth will either break it apart, or perhaps the heat surrounding it will cause it to fragment and disintegrate. There's just no way to know for sure."

He looked up towards the young monarch. "But either way, it seems I owe you a new tool-carriage, Queen Elsa."

"…and a floor," Kristoff said, looking over Anna's shoulder into the cylindrical abyss.

"Yes, and a floor," the massive man said with sideways grin at the queen. "But, hopefully, these gloves will buy me a little consideration when her Majesty presents me with an Invoice."

He pointed to his 'gift' again. "It is interesting that you assumed the metal inlays were silver, my Queen, when they are, in fact, inlays of wire-spun steel. By itself, most steel is a poor conductor of cold; much more efficient at conducting heat. BUT, when forged as a continuously layered wire and quenched in oils with certain metamorphic crystalline properties—plus a thorough alchemic compression treatment—this process is reversed and enhanced. THIS steel, Queen Elsa, acts as a funnel, in a way – drawing the 'frozen' potential from within your body and concentrating it into a single point in space. When you wear the Innfall av Dronningen, your abilities are multiplied several hundred fold, the orientation of the steel embedded within these gloves allowing you to accomplish feats so powerful and drastic…"

He gestured to the hole in her ballroom floor. "…that they defy human explanation."

Elgar bowed to the queen, eyes to the ground, his posture humble and contrite. "I offer you these functional ornaments, your Majesty, so that you, and your kingdom, might benefit from my alchemic knowledge and forge-welding prowess. On your own, your magical potential spans the nation. With the Innfall av Dronningen, I see no reason why your will would not span the globe… and beyond. Happy Yule to you, Queen Elsa."

The Queen was soaked with new knowledge, and yet her anxiety remained as strong as ever. All of what Elgar had just told her was rolling around in her head, making her curious and excited and frightened all at once. Her mind was a spicy soup of possibility. Such potential lay within these magical gifts, such possibility. She imagined that this is what it must have felt to be presented with gunpowder for first time, when bows and arrows had been the previous norm.

Still…

She lay the gloves across the back of her chair, careful not to wrinkle or fold them. She slipped a hand across the silken texture, smiling at how soothing it felt, before withdrawing her hand and clasping it at her waist again.

"Much like my sister," the Queen declared, "I believe I should show a level of discretion with regards to these… tremendously powerful gifts, Lord Elgar. Given how closely tied my powers are to my emotions, these gloves could prove immensely useful, or terribly dangerous. As you said for Kristoff's axe, I should never let caution fly to the wind. The consequences of such a lapse in judgement could be disastrous."

Her eyes met Anna's. "Which is a risk I'm not comfortable taking. Not yet."

Anna's heart swelled three times within her, quite against her will. She blinked away an appreciative tear, giving a curt nod that only Elsa caught. She steadied herself using her spear, rising to her full height and standing almost at attention. Her mindset was one of a protective older sister, for a change; the mutual understanding exchanged between the two women was subtle but sturdy. Both these gifts offered exciting possibilities, but no one was more aware of misused power than these sisters.

'I hope I can be that responsible someday,' she thought quietly. 'She's more than just the oldest sister who inherits the Crown; she knows how to wear it, too.'

Elgar seemed quite pleased with Elsa's statement. "Ahh, my Queen, you are wise indeed. And how fitting that you should mention the gifts of the Ice-master and your sister in conjunction with your own. I think the comparison is most apt."

"How so?" Kristoff asked.

Elgar pointed to Kristoff's axe, then to Elsa's gloves and Anna's spear. "ALL of these gifts, young master ice-man, have at least one thing in common: originally, these tools were once part of a single, six kilo billet of steel. After the steel was hammered and stretched and consolidated, I used a hot-cut tool to separate the billet into three separate pieces. One was elongated into an axe-head, another was forged into the blade of a spear and the final was carefully embedded into the silk of these gloves. From a single, humble beginning, we have three very different, very powerful tools, each one suited for a specific purpose, but bound to one another by a unique origin."

He stood before the trio, nearest the fallen anvil. With a little effort, he righted the fallen block of wood and pulled the horned forge-tool from the ground, re-mounting it upon the level surface.

"Just as the three of you created heat from cold, dead steel," Elgar explained, "the three of you, when acting together, can accomplish many other extraordinary feats. The relationship you share, your short but fascinating history together, this is a source of power, young ones. When the three of you began your relationship—or restarted your relationship, as the case might be—it was unrefined, simple, functional but hardly efficient. As time passed, the three of you developed this interaction into one of trust, reliance and mutual compassion. With the assistance of your reindeer companion and sentient snowman creation, the three of you have built something akin to a partnership. Dare I say, a strange, unusual—but also unique—family? One not built on lineage, but on reciprocated kindheartedness and a protective instinct. It might not be traditional, but it is no less potent."

The man was positively glowing as he spoke, gesturing with his hands like a conductor. "These tools are bound to one another by a common source, just as the three of you are bound by your relationships to each other. Separately, you are varied, talented individuals, but together? You have proven most formidable. My wish, if I could have a wish for you and these gifts, is that the three of your continue such a fascinating relationship with one-another; that you don't let yourselves be dragged down by petty squabbles and misunderstandings; that you realize your full potential, as friends, family or whatever denomination you choose. There is much here that can still be explored, and I pray you never lose sight of that exploratory nature. Or each other, for that matter."

Anna tilted her head slightly. "Eloquent as always, Lord Elgar. But do I detect a bit of sentimentality?"

Elgar arched a delicate eyebrow. "Are you off-put by sentimentality, princess?"

The woman shook her head. "Not at all, sir, quite the contrary. I don't think I've witnessed such public exuberance in you before today. It's unusual, but not irksome."

"I think what Anna means is that we appreciate the gifts, very much, Lord Elgar," Elsa said, "but we weren't expecting you to be so forthcoming with your reasoning behind their creation. Nor were we expecting you to be so open and candid. It's fetching, really, to see you excited and gracious like this. I suppose we are curious as to why your affection is so visible, in this case."

"It's definitely new, at least from our perspective," Kristoff admitted.

The man nodded his head, drawing back slightly as he tried to articulate his mind. At first he seemed all too keen to give a very splendid recitation on exactly why he was being so unusually amiable and expressive.

Instead, he shrugged and smiled, clasping his hands together as if in penance, saying, "Perhaps you have affected me more than I originally acknowledged over these past few weeks. Perhaps I have become more sentimental as I approach the end of my thirties. Perhaps a small longing for my homeland has made me more open to others."

He leaned close, almost whispering. "Or perhaps I, like you, have a hard-learned appreciation for the presence—and absence—of family."

The tonal shift was jarring, but it was quickly abated by the large man's giant smile and resounding voice. "But now is not a time for worrisome memories. I appreciate your kind attention this afternoon, my…colleagues. Please, enjoy your gifts, to the best of your ability and comfort. I hope you find great fascination in studying and mastering their capabilities. I feel privileged to share them with you, just as I feel privileged to share this holiday season with you."

There was a mutual bow between the four of them, concluding the gift-giving ceremony. Immediately after, Anna sprang to Elsa's side, looking over the gloves with bright eyes and curious, grabby fingers. Elgar produced the whistle from his within his cloak and blew out another higher-than-possible note. Within a few minute, Flomme and Støte reappeared, as silent as church-mice, to stand at Elgar's side while the sister's gushed and Kristoff reexamined his new harvesting tool.

"Remove the damaged materials and anvil from the ballroom," the lord instructed, "and summon the master carpenter. Ask that he assess the damage to the floor and sound the foundation for stability. I'll need the specifications as to determine how much lumber is required to replace the ruptured timbers."

"Oh Lord Elgar RELAX, please," Elsa implored. "I shall have the floor fixed at some point in the near future, don't worry. I'm sure the carpentry guild could use a good project in all this dreariness; this weather has left everyone feeling lethargic."

"Perhaps Elgar should make THEM some new tools as well. This spear has me as hyper as a night of binge-eating cake," Anna said as she looked at her gift, before slapping her forehead and spinning on the ball of her foot. "Oh good Gods, I almost forgot!"

Kristoff looked to one side, almost curious but mostly distracted by his reflection in the face of his axe. "Forgot? Forgot what?"

Anna went to the ballroom table and lay her spear to one side, before joining Elsa again, addressing her and Kristoff in a hushed whisper. "Don't you remember? Elgar said he had a gift that he would request of us! The three of us!"

Elsa snapped to, her eyes blinking as if out of a trance. Looking at her new gloves, even from a small distance, seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her. "Oh…OH! You're right Anna, I completely forgot!"

She turned to the larger man, overseeing the handiwork of his footmen and cleared her throat. "Ahem…so, Lord Elgar, it seems you have given your gifts and they have been well received. What, pray tell, might we offer you in return?"

The man turned to look at the trio, who had torn themselves away from their gifts and were once again giving him their full attention. He looked over his shoulder, almost lazily, his eyes sharp and forever deepening again.

"Well, yes, there was something," He admitted. "But we need not discuss it here, now. I have interrupted your evening and I really should let you get back to your activities. I wouldn't want to impede you any further."

"Oh rubbish, don't be silly," Anna insisted. "We're all here and dinner isn't for at least an hour. Come, tell us, what is it you were interested in?"

"I'm curious, too," Kristoff said, his face finally something other than stoic, stroking his chin. "Asking something of royalty is one thing, but from a simple mountaineer? I wonder what I possess that might interest you, my lord. Or at least, what I have that you couldn't easily attain on your own."

"It seems we have three votes, again," Elsa said, placing her gloves in a pouch within her blouse. "Tell us, please, milord, how we might make your Yuletide season complete. We are all at your disposal, it would seem."

The man watched as Støte dragged the shattered tool-cart away on the drop-cloth, while Flomme assisted, the anvil sitting atop his square, stout shoulders. The two hefted the mangled materials away without a word of complaint, while the large man contemplated his options.

"Well…if you must pry…" he said.

"It seems we must," Anna said, crinkling her nose. "Come now, tell us!"

The man let out a soft, rolling chuckle, turning to face the group as his minions departed. "Very well, I know when I am outnumbered."

From somewhere among the incalculable number of hidden pockets within his tunic, the man produced a piece of rolled parchment. He walked to the table and began to unfurl it, the three younger adults joining him as he did. They gathered close as the old paper was spread wide for all to see.

They beheld a charcoal sketch of what appeared to be a small lake or pond, surrounded on all sides by very unusual looking trees. Small sprouts of geometric outcroppings were sprinkled here and there around the pond, looking almost like bushes constructed of diamonds. There was no color detail, but there was a distinct sense of depth to the pond, a level of shading that gave the small body of water a hollow endlessness. Even though the parchment was only about half a meter square, the drawing as a whole represented something grander, larger than the boundaries of the material might dictate.

Indeed, the expansive property of the image was bleeding into its surroundings. In particular, it wiggled its way into the minds of the three onlookers, causing them to inhale, collectively, in silent, fascinated, dreadful recognition.

"When I was but a lad," Elgar began, looking over his parchment, "beginning my first years within the Royal Alchemic Academy, one of my first professors—a man name Ulfric—proposed a wild and unsubstantiated theory. Or at least, it seemed like one, at the time. He spoke of the true source of transmogrification, an alchemist's 'holy grail' so to speak. He spoke of a grove, rumored to be the true convergence of what he called 'free energies' – dynamic collection of unassigned potential, which can be utilized with far greater ease than standard alchemic resources. He used a waterfall as an example. When water falls from a high place into a pool, it expends a great deal of energy. You can harness that energy, using a wheel or some other device. However, that waterfall is not necessarily endless. At some point, the waterfall could dry up, or become blocked or redirected in some way, leaving your energy storing/multiplying device useless. The waterfall is a source of energy that you can utilize, but not fully control, or even predict with one-hundred percent accuracy. Ulfric proposed a waterfall that fell in a circle: an endless, rotating flow of energy that only increases in speed and power with each revolution. Such a concept is difficult even to visualize, much less facilitate, but the idea was fascinating, especially with how he related this idea to this grove. In the rest of the world, the waterfall—or normal alchemic sources, like fire, air, electricity, earth—it flows one way and is eventually evaporated, its energy spent. But in this grove? The energies have no form, no boundary, no set structure. In other words, the waterfall never stops falling. It only continues, faster and stronger, limitless and pure."

The lord closed his eyes, as if in remembrance of something. "I remember him saying 'A pool, young sirs. A pool of resplendent light and energy, depthless and frightening to behold. Around it, the very ground lives and seethes, the plant-life bending and stirring as if disturbed by an unseen, intelligent presence. The earth itself hemorrhages energy in the form of jeweled, vibrant minerals, each one complimenting the natural energies of this world. THIS, gentlemen, is the true 'Plato's Cave', as far as alchemy is concerned. From here, the physical, tangible illusion that is our understanding of equivocal exchange falls away, leaving us with the fiery, inescapable brilliance that is TRUTH; true form, true meaning, perhaps, even, true power.' He then fell back in his chair and took a drink of water, saying 'If you believe such things, of course,' before turning to his lecture-board and continuing his lesson."

The man looked wistful for a moment, his eyes off to the side, shaking his head slightly as he said "The class, all of us, we laughed it off. We laughed…we all laughed…"

He leaned backwards slightly, looking from the parchment to the trio and back again, keeping his posture neutral but erect. "After I graduated—what seems like a hundred years ago—I kept his theories with me, bottled up in my brain. I rarely spoke of them with any reputable member of the Alchemic community, if only to spare myself the tipped-up noses and dismissive head-shakes of those who would find such discussion ludicrous. But around a year later, I came across this drawing, tucked away in the 'Uncatalogued' section of documents within the University Library. It, along with a few other scraps of nearly-disintegrated parchment, was surprisingly clear in what the sketch represented. Look here…"

The man flipped the parchment over, directing the attention of the group to the upper left corner, where a small, hand-written paragraph had been hastily scribbled out.

"The artist's handwriting is abysmal," Elgar admitted, "but the rough—and I stress ROUGH—translation, is 'Headway Northern Territory, Exploratory Envoy number 4581. Grove located between unusual growths of unknown tree species. Pond of indeterminable depth at center. Luminous glow throughout. Crystal formations of unknown composition found in random proximity to pond. Ambient temperature is warm, comfortable. Water is potable but odd in taste. NOTE: exact proximity to base camp is unknown. Westward from the coast, north approximately ten leagues. Compass is non-functioning.' The date and signature is of one Ortus Grevach, who died of some ocean-born ailment, along with most of his crew, before returning to the Ludenorian Coast."

"…eighty-five years ago," Anna whispered, looking at the date while jumping her eyes between the faces of Elsa and Kristoff.

"Almost exactly, yes, Princess," Elgar said. "Apparently this team conducted a discovery procedure, if records are to be believed, with this Grevach serving as chief surveyor. The exploration took place before most of these obscure territories were formally settled by your great-grandparents; I don't believe there was any malicious intent. But because the seas claimed so many of the party before they could return to make a formal report, much of what was discovered was only given a cursory glance at best. I imagine large-scale terrain mapping was given higher priority than the stumbled-upon discovery of a small, unusual grove in the mountains. As such, the exact location remains a mystery, with the travel logs either missing or destroyed. Much can happen over the course of eight decades, especially with two relocations of the University Library in its entirety. This sketch, it seems, is really all we have to refer to, with regards to what might be the most important alchemic discovery of the last several centuries."

The man picked up the parchment and began to slowly scroll it back into a coil. "Which brings me to my request, as it were. Over what amounts to nearly a century, I am positive that your military and council of the interior have thoroughly explored the land within your borders. While I have spent time in your library, my own efforts to find more information about this mysterious 'grove' have come up empty. To that end, I formally request, my Queen and Princess, that I be given access to Arendelle's topographic archives, so that I might finally find some clues to the validity—or fallacy—of this fantastical location. Should I find something of note, I would request that YOU, Master Kristoff, guide me, to the best of your ability, to said locale, that I might document and explore and experiment to my heart's content. If my continued research through your archives proves fruitless, then that shall settle the matter. But if it proves fruitful, I shall FINALLY have first-hand access to the epicenter of alchemic theory!"

The man must have realized that his hands were balled and raised up and away from his body, his posture one of a giant who had just conquered a foe in battle. His muscles were flexed and his head held high. No longer was he a humble, pulled-back member of the aristocracy, but a larger-than-life monolith, as impressive and formidable as the day he met the royal party out in the wilds of the north.

He corrected himself, clearing his throat. "For purely academic purposes, of course. I doubt the grove will satisfy more than a simple intellectual curiosity. Still, the opportunity is quite tempting."

There had never been a time of more persistent, urgent communication between three young adults since they first became acquainted all those months ago, nor had it ever been this silent or subtle. Though none of them spoke a word, they practically threw their worries, opinions and reservations at one another. Anna was awash with stress, recognition and anxiety, her hand clutching and unclutching the edge of the table. Kristoff was anxious as well, though far more wary and almost perturbed, wrestling with a deep-seated dread that was slowly resurfacing. In the middle, Elsa LOOKED calm, but years of preparation to assume her father's thrown and mother's crown were batting her brain back and forth. Though she belied almost none of her true apprehension, her curled fingertips and dilated pupils told her other two companions that many serious consequences were being considered. Knowledge, it seemed, was both a blessing and a curse in this instance.

"I think it a fair trade," Elgar said after a moment, tapping his fingers upon his wrist. "Three hand-made, highly unusual and unique tools, in exchange for a few quick peaks into archives of her Majesty and her Highness. All parties benefit differently, but equally, I believe."

Elsa could read Kristoff's face like a book, but it didn't lessen his almost frantic contempt for what he read upon hers. 'She's actually considering it!' she read, sighing quietly. 'After everything that happened with Grand Pabbie, she's STILL considering it!'

'This is exactly what we were afraid of...' Anna wondered, her teeth clenched. 'How…HOW could he have known about this? HOW?'

Elsa leaned back, placing her elbow in one hand and leaning her chin on the other, looking the lord over as her eyes lidded themselves. "Quite an impressive story, Lord Elgar, with an equally interesting premise. I admit, you have me intrigued. I confess, though, I find myself totally vacant of any knowledge pertaining to a 'magical' pool in the woods. That is definitely something I would have remembered from my geography studies as a girl."

The man cocked his head, never losing his curious, prodding smile. "I suppose not, my Queen. But then, it is possible that such a discovery has not been made yet. It is curious, isn't it? How often the most powerful and innately fascinating elements of this world manage to remain hidden? Even her Majesty was able to 'conceal' her gifts from the world at large for over twenty years; no small feat, considering the power she wields, yes?"

"Your point is well taken," Elsa said, offering a curt twitch of a smile. "Still, the royal archives are overflowing and, I'm sad to admit, drastically disorganized. Finding even a simple summons would be a tedious process. To conduct a search such as the one you are proposing, it could take days, perhaps even weeks."

"I think it is quite apparent that I rarely shy away from important tasks, no matter how difficult or arduous," the man continued, pleasant but firm in his conviction. "I'm certain that there would be few other undertakings as significant as this one. The reward would be well worth the effort."

Elsa was undaunted, raising a finger and resting it upon her cheek. "And then, of course, there is the matter of the rather 'sensitive' information contained within many of those documents. The vast majority are clearly marked, of course, but I would imagine that the occasional segue, however innocent and totally above-board, might occur during your search. Privacy would be one issue, certainly, but other troublesome tidbits of information might be strewn about as well – treasury accounts, structural analyses of the castle interior, military communications, deployment schedules for the army, infantry, navy, etc. That whole archive is a veritable rat's nest of superfluous and dreary record-keeping; one would hate the idea of that magnificent brain of yours filling up with such non-essential informational minutia. Wouldn't you agree?"

Anna raised one eyebrow as discretely as she could, cracking the briefest of smiles. 'Clever Queen…'

"Normally yes, my Queen, I would be so inclined, but in this instance, the subject is too important to ignore," Elgar insisted, swelling a bit in size and presence. "Imagine if you had the opportunity to find the source of your abilities, or better yet, the source of all magical energies on Earth. Maybe you have no desire to expand your own knowledge regarding your powers, or take advantage of any further power that you might attain. Perhaps you simply want to know WHY your powers exist in the first place. Perhaps you feel the need to know WHY you were bestowed with such gifts, WHY you and not someone else. Perhaps the risk for that knowledge is worth the undertaking, not only for personal closure, but for a grander academic satisfaction. The benefits, however tenuous and abstract, they must be exploited. Or rather, explored."

He shook the small paper in his hand and held it aloft. "I have the education, the means and the tenacity to pursue this 'flight of fancy', if that is indeed what it is. If privacy is an issue, I can certainly wait until a later date, that the more sensitive documents might be removed from prying eyes. But I hope you would give me the benefit of the doubt, in that I would never, under any circumstances, betray the trust and goodwill established between the four of us over these last several weeks. I seek knowledge and answers, not leverage or tactical advantage."

The three younger adults seemed to be at an impasse. Kristoff was still entrenched in his non-verbal objection to anything and everything that was part of Elgar's request. Anna was clearly rolling all the possibilities over in her head, much as Elsa was, but her apprehension seemed to be much more for Elsa's safety, especially with regards to Elgar's apparent persistence in pursuing his quarry. Elsa, in the middle, was left with the task of deciding how to represent all parties without stepping on too many toes; an arduous process.

"Your request is not necessarily out of line, Lord Elgar," Elsa began, "but it does present certain complications with regards to the security of my kingdom. I make no assumptions one way or the other about your intent. But if ANY individual wishes to view the archives, in any capacity, a degree of restraint must be observed…no matter how gracious, or generous, the inquirer might be."

Elgar seemed perturbed. Not vocally, but his body language said as much. "If her Majesty implies that I have dishonorable motives—"

"Her MAJESTY implies that this is not a trade agreement," Elsa interrupted, raising her voice just enough to assert herself. "This is an exchange of goodwill. At least, that is what she was led to believe. We came here to discuss something you insisted was of the utmost importance. You even sent a messenger to that effect. Once we arrived, you presented us with a beautiful array of gifts, each one more impressive than the last. You implied that some kind of gift would be requested in exchange, from the three of us as a whole. The gift you ask for is not physical in nature, per say, but more abstract, both in presentation and implication. IF, sir, this is supposed to be an exchange, as you've implied, then the exchange must be made willingly and on level footing. There shouldn't be a sense of clout with gift-giving, not if the spirit of the exchange is be maintained."

She removed the gloves from her blouse and walked towards the man, pushing them towards him. "If, instead, you were intending this to be a trade—your splendiferous wares in exchange for access to Arendelle's most private vault of information—then I am afraid the trade is insufficient. No item, however impressive, is worth the safety and security of this kingdom."

Kristoff looked shocked and even a little amazed. His pallor of distrust seemed to leave him, however briefly, when he saw the resolve of the queen. Anna, in turn, was smiling again, bolstered by Elsa's display of power and momentarily removed from her plight of anxiety. Her sister was in rare form and the princess was soaking it up, even if the princess was still a bit anxious in her presentation.

Elgar was in stunned silence. He looked from the gloves to the Queen and back again, eyes narrow, chin held high. It was as if Elsa had slapped him with the gloves, rather than handed them over. Some kind of challenge had been issued, but as to what that challenge meant, he seemed unclear. The stretch of silence was becoming deafening now, but neither the queen nor the lord seemed able to give ground.

After another few moments, the man raised a hand and waved the queen off, refusing to take the gloves back. "They belong to you, my queen. No other hand might wield them, no other power could control them, save yours. I would be far less generous, and gracious, if I were to create such a gift for you and then retrieve it, simply because you were unable to give me something in return."

"I am not UNABLE," Elsa corrected, lowering the gloves to her side. "I am simply cautious, as anyone in my, in OUR, position, might be."

The man seemed to consider that. He stroked his beard and placed the small roll of paper back in his tunic. "I can respect that cautious attitude. It is pertinent to the disposition of a queen."

"And yet, you seek what you seek," Anna chimed in. "I can tell just by looking at you. This is still what you want most."

"This is true, Princess," Elgar agreed, looking back to Elsa, "but I see no reason to exacerbate the issue. Is there no way to compromise in this situation, my Queen? Some middle ground we might reach?"

Without even looking over her shoulder, Elsa could sense the scowl reassert itself on Kristoff's face. It was burning into the back of her head, especially as she spoke the words "What kind of middle ground, exactly?"

The man twisted his beard around his fingers, thinking, his eyes looking up to the ceiling for a bit. He was clearly weighing his options, trying to see what he could concede. The list seemed short.

"I have a proposal," he began, "which may satisfy all parties. What if YOU—or rather, your chief archivist—were to find the data I desire?"

"You mean have my staff sift through hundreds of thousands of documents, some of which have not been touched by human hands in over a century, with the—perhaps futile—intent of finding one or two pieces of parchment pertaining to your pool of alchemic power?" Elsa said, resting a hand on her hip.

The man nodded. "Precisely, my liege. This would keep those pesky peripheral pieces of parchment out of my reach, lest I encounter something of a private or sensitive nature. Should your staff find anything of interest, they can separate it from the bulk of your archives. They needn't even look for a needle in a haystack, as it were. Surely the topographical records pertaining to the northeastern boundaries of your kingdom are not a matter of profound secrecy, yes?"

"Perhaps…" Elsa conceded.

"Then we shall leave the search broad and innocent. I'm sure I can make great progress with just the most basic of survey charts. In this way, I acquire much needed data of an academic imperative, while the rest of your kingdom's 'informational minutia' remain clandestine, as it should. Does this seem satisfactory to you, Queen Elsa?" he finished.

The woman felt motion-sick. Her brain was jogging back and forth within her skull, jumping from possibility to possibility. The all-but-restrained hostility of Kristoff scorched her from behind, while Anna's mounting apprehension made the Queen sick with worry. How do you make a decision when either choice might end up harming you?

She sucked in a breath. "Very well sir. If my staff manages to find pertinent information regarding your quarry—IF they find anything—said material will be made available to you. If NOT, then you must request something else by way of Yuletide gift. In this way, I shall compromise."

"…compromise…" came a hushed, angry voice.

Elsa winced as she turned to face Kristoff, with Anna following suit.

"What was that?" Anna asked, much more innocently than Elsa could have managed.

The man was leaning against the ballroom table. As he pulled back, the wood creaked loudly, as if his weight had compressed the fibers and strained the frame.

"Nothing…nothing at all," the ice-master declared, his voice dry and flat as he held his tool aloft. "Thank you, again, milord, for this wonderful gift. IF the queen manages to find something relevant to your search, I will do my best to guide you to it. But only after the winter begins to ebb and the going is less dangerous. This is MY compromise, I suppose."

Elgar actually looked unsure of Kristoff's statement, but slowly tilted his head in the man's direction. "Well, that is good, Master Kristoff. Most gracious of you."

The ice-man nodded curtly and turned to the door, marching quickly. "I must be going then. I've been asked to assist with the reinforcement of the royal stables. Sven is waiting for me there. Good day to you all."

Both Elsa and Anna instinctively turned to him, though only Anna spoke. "Wait Kristoff, don't you want to st—?"

"I said GOOD DAY, Majesties," Kristoff cut her off, pulling open the door and shutting it behind him with a forceful SLAM.

Both women subconsciously recoiled from what they had just seen. The ice-master's exit had been swift and informal, but both women couldn't help but feel as if the both of them had been smacked in the face. Elsa was visibly uncomfortable and Anna was clearly upset, looking from Elsa to Elgar and back again.

"Good gracious…I wonder what that was all about," Elgar said, looking to the door.

"Yes…I wonder…" Anna followed, keeping her voice low.

Elsa caught it; the small, insect-like snare that came at the end of Anna's sentence. Though the queen only looked indirectly at her sister, she could make out the narrowed eyes and thin lips of the princess. Elsa had a brief moment of feeling like a fish in a jar, being observed by some scrutinous collector.

Anna folded her arms, her nose held a little higher. If there had been any doubt as to whether or not Elsa had been uncomfortable around Kristoff earlier, that doubt had been put to bed in an instant. Anna knew that look on her sister, the one that said SOMETHING was brewing behind those beautiful eyes of hers, but heaven forfend that she actually share it. It was a common face to use when trying maintain one's decorum in front of company, guests, dignitaries and the odd giant Ludenorian from across the sea. Anna had a face just like it, somewhere, stored away amongst her multiple attitudes, ready for deployment should the occasion necessitate it.

But here? Now? Seeing such a look upon the face of the queen?

Anna loathed that face.

In fact, she despised it.

Elsa knew something she wasn't saying. Anna then realized that she might need to 'know' something as well, if she were to get any straight answers.

"I wouldn't worry, Lord Elgar," the princess explained, up-beat and positive. "Kristoff had a rather unpleasant evening a few night ago. He spoke to me about it, confided in me, you might say. I'm sure this is just some carry-over from that."

Elgar narrowed his gaze, turning his head slowly to look at the princess. "Is that so? Well, I do hope the two of you aren't fighting…"

"Oh we aren't…not to my knowledge, at least," Anna said, cocking her hips slightly and keeping Elsa in the corner of her vision. "But regardless, matters of the crown must be kept in the highest of confidence, no matter what their origin…especially with regards to the Queen…you understand, of course."

It was a bluff. A total guess. Anna had baited a hook with a tempting piece of meat, knowing full well that Elsa may never snap it up.

But she was rewarded for her gamble.

"HOW…? HE…?!" Elsa said, her exclamations halted and harsh as she jutted her gaze towards her sister.

True, Elsa barely even changed the look upon her face and the voice of the queen barely had any weight. Elsa had reasserted her control and her demeanor with lightning speed, bringing back her cool, thoughtful expression within an instant of losing it. She even looked away, as if she hadn't a care in the world about what had just occurred. The whole lapse in concentration had lasted maybe two seconds.

But it was enough.

'Gotcha', Anna thought, her victory both Pyrrhic and disheartening.

"Is something wrong, sister?" Anna asked. Feigning distress and concern felt like bile was building up in her throat, but the princess was internally seething with reproach.

Elsa swallowed and lifted her chin as well, a sign of defiant collective unease. "Of course not."

"It really is alright," Anna said, coming a bit closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, so that Elgar might not hear. "I'd practically forgotten about it…but clearly Kristoff hasn't. I'll talk to him, soon, find out why this is all still biting him at his ankles…"

"There is nothing to discuss," Elsa said, also keeping her voice down. "And even if it were, now is not the time to bring up our conversation…"

Anna stopped.

Elsa—far too late—also stopped.

"I, ehm, don't remember saying that he was upset with YOU, Elsa," Anna said, folding her hands together, looking away slightly as she spoke in hushed tones. "Or mentioning some kind of conversation between the two of you…"

Again, a partially shattered expression careened across the face of the queen, vanishing a moment later. Elsa realized with great distress that—for the second time in less than a week—she had fallen into a 'trap' of sorts. This one, however improvised and quiet, was amplified a thousand fold by the simple fact that it had been sprung by her sister.

Her only response was to make a dismissive face and pull away; away from Anna's slowly saddening eyes, away from the realization that she had been caught, away from some form of social and diplomatic suicide, should she continue.

Anna remained quiet for a time, but the burning gaze she offered the back of Elsa's head shot question after question at the retreating monarch.

Seemingly unable to hear the pair from where he stood, Elgar had intentionally pulled back once again. He was a large, silent shadow, pressed against the far wall at the head of the ballroom some fifteen feet away. Whether he was paying attention or not, he was sufficiently hidden for the two woman to take little notice of him as they had their quiet, uneasy exchange.

"He DID talk to you that night, didn't he?" Anna accused softly, walking just a tad closer as she whispered. "What did he say? Did…did he tell you something about me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Elsa tried to deflect.

"Did he mention something about our dance?" Anna continued, quiet but firm.

"We didn't discuss you hardly at all!" Elsa insisted.

Anna's face went pink, her voice a hair louder than before. "So…so you DID speak to him. What did you talk to him about?"

Elsa was clearly becoming distressed, trying to wrap up the conversation without saying too much. "It was just a discussion. Nothing important, we talked about something that pertained to the two of us, that's all! You needn't persist in this, Anna…not right now, at least."

"If it's not such a big deal, why hide it? Why not say something about it before now?" Anna said, trying to control her voice and slowly failing in the endeavor. "Did he say something to upset you? Or you him?"

"It wasn't like that, alright? Besides, it's over with."

"What is over with? What are you not saying? Are you…are you hiding something? From me?" Anna demanded, her whisper much closer to an angry gasp.

"NO! It's just a…a…private matter! That's all! It's just…just a…!"

Anna pulled back, eyes wet yet again with unshed tears. She held her tongue, held her anger, held her heart within her ribs so it didn't leap away from her and go screaming from the room. It was difficult to see Elsa with anxiety and fear upon her face as she fumbled with her words, but it was even more so to keep her own voice from tumbling to angry shards within her throat.

"Just…another…secret," Anna said, soft and sad. "Just another…THING you can't talk about…I see…I see…"

It was back again. That burn. That jealous, angry, entitled, scathing heat within her head that seemed to poison her heart, drop by drop. For five days she had tempered and beaten back this poison with reason, resolve and compassion. But now, her antidotes were futile. No matter what the princess did, her heart seemed rooted to some acrid, parched stretch of earth within her breast, bereft of water or nutrients, feeding her core with doubt, grief and anger.

She couldn't escape it this time. It WAS her, if only in part.

Elsa's stunned, unhappy silence only encouraged her withdrawal.

Elgar seemed ignorant of the content of the conversation, but the tone of it was very clear to him at this point. His voice was warm and nonthreatening as he seemed to slink even further away from the sisters. "Perhaps I should take my leave…"

Anna jutted her head in his direction, letting her voice rise. "No! Stay were you are!"

Elgar halted, coming to attention.

With another sidelong, viperous glance at her sister, the princess reached for her spear once more and slid it from the table. The sharpened blade sung with a single, sorrowful note as the tip was dragged across the ancient wood, before sitting upright in the hand of the princess.

"Come here, sir," Anna said, walking away from Elsa and toward the eight-foot lord.

Elgar seemed hesitant. The last time Anna had approached him in such a manner, the resulting contact had been less than comforting…and this time, she was armed.

"I said COME HERE, Lord Elgar," the princess commanded, tapping the butt of her spear loudly upon the floor with impatience.

The lord did as he was bid, walking a few steps closer to the young woman, bending toward her that he might receive further instruction, but keeping well-clear of the spear she carried.

"Yes, my lady?" he asked.

In her right hand, Anna held her new weapon aloft.

With her left, she reached forward and gently lay it across the right side of the man's massive head. Before Elgar could object or pull away, Anna leaned upwards to place a single, lingering kiss upon his cheek, just above the line of his beard. With the widening of his eyes and the stiffening of his jaw, the man felt the contrast of soft, delicate lips upon his skin, freezing his body like a slab of marble. From one corner of his eye, the man observed the serene, almost happy façade of the princess as she lidded her gaze, melding her face to his.

From the other corner, the man witnessed a queen almost undone, a myriad mosaic of emotions almost ripping the poor woman's face apart.

Anna pulled away, slowly, her voice surprisingly calm, but affectionate and bright. "Thank you, again, Lord Elgar, for this magnificent spear. You are a true craftsman, and quite generous, as well. I shall not forget this gift, nor the spirit in which it was given."

Elsa seemed breathless. Elgar held fast.

"You… are quite welcome, young princess," he managed, skillful and slow in his retreat from her touch. "I hope it serves you dutifully."

"Oh, I'm sure it will, milord," the princess said, her voice almost playful as she looked over the weapon, "but your earlier observation is correct: the shaft is a bit too long. I will have to shorten it slightly, to make it more manageable and find a corrected balance point."

The man leaned forward slightly, eyes searching. "Perhaps I could assist you with such a task…?"

"No no, thank you," Anna said quickly, "I believe I can handle this on my own. Once again, you are very kind to offer. But I believe an hour or two in the forge should be sufficient. I hope you won't hold it against me if I usurp your favorite workplace for a short while?"

Elgar shook his head slowly. "Of course not princess. I hadn't planned to visit the forge this evening anyway. Now that these gifts are complete, my use for the forge will be predominantly utilitarian. Once I've eaten a small supper, I'd intended to retire for the night."

"Ah, good," Anna commented. "Then I shall thank you again and take my leave. If I start now, I should be done in time to retire early, as well."

"Oh…you'll not be attending dinner?" Elgar said, eyes jumping from Anna to Elsa and back again, keen and quick.

Anna bristled for half a second before standing up straight. "No, I…I don't think so. Strange, but it seems I've lost my appetite."

With that, she curtsied to the large man. "Good evening to you, Lord Elgar. I shall see you again soon."

She then turned sidelong to Elsa, not facing the woman directly. Instead, she seemed to square off with the Queen, her shoulders back slightly and her foot pointed in her direction. With spear in hand, she bowed at the waist, very much like a soldier would bow out of submission and respect.

But when she spoke…

"Goodnight, my Queen."

The acidity of her words was almost numbing. Indeed, even as Anna walked briskly to the eastern entrance of the ballroom, Elsa seemed unsure if time was moving or standing still.

It seemed the punctuation of Anna's three-word sentence was added only after the massive doors had closed silently behind her.

Though Elgar stood less than ten feet away, the loneliness that descended upon the room surrounded the queen so pervasively, she felt herself short of breath. Her blouse and leggings were suddenly cloying and scratchy, as if she wore an outfit constructed of pure burlap. The sight of Anna's anger and contempt had been enough to slow the queen's heartbeat and freeze her extremities, but her sudden departure without so much as a kind look had set the mind of the young monarch into a tailspin. It had been difficult over the last few days, pretending not to miss her sister, pretending that she didn't desire her company and her voice and her affection. But after what had just happened, the queen realized she'd rather have gone a thousand days, filled with longing and distance, than endure the dismissive indifference she'd just encountered. It seemed gravity and balance were the only things keeping the queen from toppling to the ground under the weight of her own misery.

But to business. She needed to dismiss her guest. Save face. Business first.

Business.

"Well, my Lord," she began, her voice breathy and hesitant, "it, uh…seems our afternoon has come to an end. Thank you, again, for your splendid gift. I shall dispatch a page or steward to you in the event that my archivists find something, though it…it may take several days for them, to make any headway—"

"Why are you still here?"

Elsa balked, her eyes blinking at the sudden interruption. "E...Excuse me?"

Elgar cleared his throat. "I said, 'Why are you still here?' my Queen."

Elsa was unsteady for a moment, choosing her words while also trying to maintain her balance. "I'm…I'm still here…because I was beckoned and because I haven't dismissed you yet…"

"Then by all means, dismiss me, please," Elgar insisted, gesturing to the door, "so that you might attend more pressing matters."

Elsa fell back a step, her complexion varying as blood rushed to and from her face. "I BEG your pardon, but what exactly as you implying, sir? That you would profess such familiarity with my responsibilities or schedule is ludicrous at best and presumptuous at worst. You would stand there and dictate where and how I am needed—!?"

"I make no such presumption!" Elgar said, his voice cavernous and deep. "I simply know you are needed elsewhere!"

The room echoed with his words, causing the queen to snap her mouth shut. They stared at each other, their body language defiant, almost hostile, their collective disposition one of conflict and frustration. They seemed to be two cliffs upon either side of a gulley, staring each other down, impossible for either of them advance or surrender.

Elgar did something surprising after almost five minutes of silence. He deflated somewhat, running a hand through his hair and walking towards the ballroom table. He took one of the chairs out and sat down, crossing one leg over the other, his elbow perched atop the table, resting his forehead upon his fist. He seemed to be posing, almost, for some unseen sculptor, finding a comfortable position in which to hold his body for several hours.

"She's hurt," he said, letting both words resonate for a moment, before adding, "And she's angry. For several reasons, it seems, but first and foremost, she is in pain. This is obvious."

The Queen also felt the wind leave her sails. The voice of the man was not angry, or accusatory or even emotionally condescending. It was factual. Not neutral, not removed from sentiment, but not belabored by it, either. It was the right amount of personal distance to give the declaration a level of objectivity, without sounding like some God-like authority on the subject.

Elsa found herself following Elgar's lead. She walked slowly to the chair designated as her 'throne' within the confines of the ballroom, slipping slowly and deliberately into the seat. Her fiery disposition was long gone, replaced by a floating disconnect from any extremes. It allowed her mind to clear itself, somewhat, enough to have a conversation, versus a confrontation.

"I know," Elsa said, soft and almost meek, the beginnings of a grief-fueled migraine brewing behind her left eye. "I know she is. I'm…aware…"

The man lifted his head, looking to the woman with partly-closed eyes as he rapped his fingers upon the table-top. He didn't seem to be profoundly knowledgeable about this subject, but he was concerned, clearly. His protracted silence seem to indicate he was thinking deeply on the matter.

"It is certainly none of my business," the man began, speaking methodically, "and as I said before, I presume nothing, nor would I inquire or insist that you should want to speak of such things with me…"

"No, speak, please," Elsa said abruptly. "Say something, if you will…"

Elgar raised a hand as if to speak, but then stopped, rethinking his approach. "Are you sure that is wise?"

Elsa's head sank slightly, her exasperation evident. "Oh gods, what does THAT mean? Why wouldn't it be?!"

The man brought the volume of his voice down, carefully choosing his rhetoric. "I only ask because you seem distressed, my Queen. The two of us are associates, perhaps even colleagues with a few mutual responsibilities, but I would not assume that you hold me in higher regard than that. You certainly respect me and offer me courtesies which befit the situation. But I do not know if that makes us friends…or if you would find my counsel effective."

Elsa nodded, closing her eyes for a few moments. "Perhaps you are right."

Elgar waited, focused on the smaller woman.

"…but as of right now, my options are limited. My sister is angry with me. Kristoff is…well, he has reason to be cross with me, let us leave it at that. It would be inappropriate to approach my staff with a conundrum such as this and I…I don't feel comfortable explaining the details of this to my Aunt and Uncle, or my cousins. There would be questions, curiosities, which I don't feel able to explain right now."

She looked up at the larger man and smiled sadly, her hands together in front of her surprisingly slouched body. "So it seems you are my ideal choice, Lord Elgar. A great unpredictable choice, this is true. But right now, perhaps, that's what I need. A separation. A real segue into something pure and unfettered by familiar drama. You are perhaps a chaotic neutral, my Lord, but a chaotic neutral that I could use right now."

The man smiled softly, the beginnings of a wry chuckle behind his lips. "I shall take that as a compliment, I suppose. I have a suggestion, if I may?"

"Proceed."

Elgar folded his hands together. "I don't wish to pry too deeply. Much like our conversation on the docks all those weeks ago, we shall give each other some professional distance. But what I CAN do is ask you simple questions—of a 'yes/no' nature—which you can answer, giving me a usable platform of context. Would that be sufficient?"

Elsa gave another sad grin, shaking her head side to side as she thought about the idea. "Why not? Simplicity seems about the only thing I haven't attempted yet."

The man nodded, leaning a bit closer as he began. "So, your sister is angry at you. Have you any idea why?"

Elsa nodded quickly. "Yes."

Elgar rubbed his hands. "Has she asked something of you that you cannot provide?"

Elsa thought for a moment. "In a way, yes."

"Are you unable to provide her with what she desires?" the man continued.

"No, it's not that," Elsa said.

"Just unwilling?"

Elsa looked distressed. "Yes…well-well no, I mean…I can't just…she would…!"

The man listened.

Elsa sighed as if her chest was filled with iron nails. "It's…complicated."

He nodded in understanding. "Ah…perhaps that response should have been a third option."

The look on Elsa's face said she wasn't in the mood for being clever, so Elgar pressed on. "If you confront your sister about how you feel, what she feels, do you foresee a fight? Some other kind of conflict?"

Elsa's jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Do you think she find it hard to forgive you?"

Another pregnant pause, followed by a dreadfully subtle "Yes."

The man tented his fingers and tapped them together, pondering the queen and her reactions. Elsa had a brief realization that she was being studied. She wasn't sure if she should feel wary or naked, as Elgar's gaze never lost its penetrating quality throughout their conversation.

"Do you love your sister, Queen Elsa?" he asked.

Such a question set her nerves afire, but she held her breath long enough to keep her heartbeat from fluttering about like some giddy child, swallowing quietly before admitting—for the second time that week, ironically—"Yes, I do."

A pause. "And does she love you, even though you cannot provide her with this 'thing' that she desires?"

A slight hesitation. "Yes, I…well…I believe she does…I mean…"

An angry sigh. "Foolish Queen…" the man muttered.

Elsa gripped the armrests of her chair, tiny icicles shooting up from the floor around her as her eyes flashed wide. "W-WHAT did you say to me?!"

"That girl loves you more than her next breath!" Elgar declared, his voice cannon-like and rolling with thunder as he pointed at the woman. "Contestation of that fact is asinine, pure and simple!"

Elsa was undone by the volume and weight of the man's voice, but also by his words. The ice remained at her feet, but the woman leaned back, upright in her chair, her hidden tears overcome by fascination and awe.

The man lowered his hand and knelt his head, his hair shielding his eyes from Elsa's sight. The sound of his voice bounced among the rafters for a moment or so more, before joining the pair in their silence.

"I apologize," Elgar said, his voice smaller this time. "I meant no disrespect. I just find it amazing that I see so clearly what you can only see through the bleakest of fog. To speak boldly, if I might, it seems you are impaired by something, my queen – responsibility, doubt, guilt of some kind, I am not sure. But whatever it is, it has stressed you to the point of extreme micromanagement of your emotions. Anger is there, yes, but also a healthy degree of hesitancy and fear. Perhaps these emotions are totally justified, but these are a type of handicap, ma'am. Not a form of protection, for you or her."

Elsa listened, her ears throbbing from her momentary outburst and her anxiously attentive brain.

"You say you fear a conflict," Elgar continued, "but I suspect that you fear something more. You fear rejection, a growing rift between the two of you – something you have dreaded since first reconnecting with her. And if she doesn't forgive you, or at the very least see the reasoning behind your decision, you fear how your relationship might change. Probably for the worst. Correct?"

A deep, savage silence fell upon the room. Elsa couldn't answer. She could barely hold a thought in her head for long. The mental cold-war seemed to have returned, with a hungry vengeance all its own. One side of her head demanded that she answer, while the other condensed itself into a mental diamond of restraint, control, conceal, conceal, conceal…

"Ah. I think I understand," Elgar said. He stood, then, hands behind his back, walking slowly towards the chair in which the conflicted queen sat. He towered above her; the queen was tiny – a child-like woman next to a far larger adult.

So when he knelt at her side, lowering his head to her knee, his broad shoulders and back looking like the deck of a small ship moored at her feet, she was genuinely surprised. It was odd to see this edifice of man-flesh humbled before her, no matter how many times she witnessed it. It still caused her to wake up and pay attention, not unlike the arrival of a thunderhead just beyond the shoreline.

"I have but one final question, my Queen, before I offer my advice," Elgar said, looking the woman deep in her crystal blue eyes. "Despite the hazards of speaking with your sister, despite the anger, the confusion and the differing opinions which may have brought this disagreement upon you, despite what she might say or do or give or take, despite what pain might come…do you believe it worth the effort? Do you believe your sister worth such an undertaking, that you might mend what has been broken, forging something stronger than was there before?"

The memories were there again, front, centered and bright. The woman looked up into the man's face but couldn't see it, couldn't perceive its shape or size. Instead, her inner eye wandered to the back of her mind, retrieving all the suspiciously vibrant recollections from when she wore those powerful gloves. Her sister in her night-gown; her sister walking among a frozen garden; her sister weeping beyond her door. All these episodes, all that time, all that unwanted space between her and her darling little Anna…they littered her life with over a decades-worth of memories and now, looking back, she just couldn't stand the idea of any repetition in the here and now.

A deep, solemn nod followed, along with a smile that seemed stanch and serene. "Yes…yes, she is worth it. And much, much more."

Elgar reached forward and patted Elsa's hand, boldly reassuring the queen with his touch in a way that words could not facilitate. Rather than pull away, she allowed a moment of woozy comfort to assail her senses, even if it was from a source as unexpected as it was unpredictable.

"Then my previous statement stands, Queen Elsa," said the surprisingly soothing bass of his voice, "you must go to her. I know only so much about what it means to have effective, lasting relationships with people. But I do know this; when it comes to our siblings, we must do whatever we can to preserve their happiness and well-being. This is true of all family…but it is especially true of those we love."

The queen heard him.

Then the queen understood.

She FINALLY understood.

Elsa was suddenly electrified. The realization struck her so deeply that it shortened her breathing, tightened her muscles and jumped her heart-rate. She needed to move, walk, run, something! This bolt that roared her body back to life, it demanded a single, steady direction: Anna.

Whatever propelled her forward, it would carry her to Anna.

"Lord Elgar I'm, I'm afraid I…I must…would you—?"

"Consider me dismissed, Majesty," he said, standing suddenly and backing away. "No pomp, no formality, just go. For goodness sake, just go!"

Elsa smiled brightly and leapt to her feet. A haphazard curtsy followed, proceeded by a hasty retreat to the eastern entrance of the room. With a spring in her step that was akin to a sprint, the woman rushed through the door, taking one more appreciative look over her shoulder. The man gestured with both hands again, urging her on, before she—like her sister before her—disappeared into the corridors of the castle.

Elgar was alone.

The man walked to the end of the ballroom table, leaning forward to support himself upon his knuckles. His bent posture was unbecoming of a man his size and height. But the position seemed appropriate given the weight of his predicament. Though already tremendous in stature and strength, such physical fortitude seemed insufficient for the newly-acquired anchor dangling from around his neck.

He looked to the end of the table as a general might survey a long-dead battlefield – taking stock, counting stores, acknowledging those who have fallen for a cause far greater than themselves.

"So..." he said to no one, nodding in acceptance, "this is the bed in which I must lie…"

---

Back soon with part two! Have a happy summer everyone!

-J