Chapter Twenty-Eight
Disclaimer: I neither own the rights to Disney, Frozen, the Disney universe nor any of its associated media, derivatives or products. I do not profit from this work.
A/N: If you want to know what song Elsa and Hans were dancing to, I always imagine it to be this one: www. youtube watch?v=G _ZQrOPRvAQ (eliminate spaces, add dot-com-slash after "youtube"). The song is played on a traditional Norwegian instrument called the hardanger fiddle. You can find a shorter version by the same name, too.
Also, the story Hans tells is a Hans Christian Andersen story called "The Snowdrop." You can find a copy here: hca. gilead. org. il/snowdrop. html (remove spaces)
It was the night before the wedding, and the only words Elsa could think to describe every person in the castle, including herself, were "worn thin." The exhausted purplish bruises under her eyes stood out all the more on her pale skin, but they were echoed well enough in the faces of those around her, from the usually bubbly Anna to her weary subjects.
"Mama?" a little girl said as she walked past a family in the Great Hall. "Mama, when are we going to go home?"
"I don't know, dear one," the mother said tiredly. As the girl looked away, disheartened, the woman turned to her husband and they began to speak in low, grim tones.
Elsa gave no indication that she'd heard, but as she walked through the Great Hall, she surveyed the many families around her. The children all looked afraid, their parents haggard and gaunt. As she approached her sister, Kristoff and Hans, all of whom were helping to distribute the last remnant's of that night's stew, she let out a low sigh. "Ms. Underberg, what remains of the palace cellars?" she asked once the last of the patrons were gone.
The cook pursed her lips, a worried look on her face. "We have enough food, m'Lady, but firewood is running short. Prince Hans has given orders to start dismantling unnecessary furniture."
"If this blizzard goes on any longer, we might not be able to recover," Elsa said lowly.
Hans's face was grim. "They know. All of them are talking about if they'll be able to make it through the rest of this winter even if the storm does blow over."
"I wish there was something we could do for them," Elsa said, shaking her head. "Especially the children; they're the most frightened of all."
"The cake," Anna said suddenly.
"What?"
"The cake. Give the children the cake."
The cook's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, your Majesty, we couldn't!"
"That's your wedding cake, Anna," Elsa said, stunned.
The princess smiled, and perhaps her sister was imagining it, but her smile looked rather sad. "It's just a cake, Elsa."
"But what about the adults?" Hans said, frowning in concentration. "There must be some way to lift their spirits, as well."
"What about music? Some dancing?" Anna suggested, the light of inspiration in her eyes. "It's not much of a party without food or anything, but it's better than nothing, right?"
"But where would we get the music?" Elsa questioned.
Kristoff shrugged. "Some of these people are amateur musicians. We could ask them to play; I'm sure they wouldn't mind." When the queen still looked doubtful, he said, "C'mon, Elsa. These people are worn and tired; they need something to take their mind off the situation, just for a little while."
She bit her lip, thinking. "Well… I guess it couldn't do any harm."
Anna gasped, delighted. "Oh, thank you! That's wonderful! I'll go tell everyone!" She hurried off, and Elsa couldn't help but chuckle. Her sister had always possessed the gift of spreading cheer, no matter what the situation, and it was a gift for which the queen was now more than grateful
Soon the great hall was filled with laughter and music. The children had all been given a piece of the wedding cake, which now was gone, and several of the men and women had been happy for the chance to play a little music. People were dancing as if it were midsummer's day, having readily accepted the opportunity to forget their woes for a night, and even Elsa, who was sitting on the side, couldn't help but laugh and clap along in time to the music.
The musicians ended their song to a round of applause and started another one, the fiddles singing. Elsa's head perked up, and Hans (who was sitting beside her), glanced over. "You know this one?"
"Oh, it's an old folk dance; everyone here knows it," she said, smiling idly.
Hans hesitated a moment, and then threw caution to the winds and stood, offering her a hand. "Would you like to dance?"
She looked up, startled. "You know I don't dance."
"Don't, not can't," he reminded her. When she still didn't take his hand, he added, "Come on, Elsa. Have a little fun for once in your life."
She bit her tongue, and then accepted his hand up with a wry smile. She felt her cheeks flush and her heartbeat quicken as his fingers curled around hers, and his other hand came to rest on her waist. "Alright, well, I actually don't know this one," Hans admitted, looking just as embarrassed as she was.
"Oh, it's not hard. Just follow everyone else—and let me lead," she said, unable to keep from grinning. Hans chuckled. "Three steps back." He obeyed, keeping the other groups in the corner of his eye. "Turn to the right. Twirl me three paces forward. Spin… stamp your foot! Lift!" He started at that and forgot to lift her by the waist. Elsa laughed again. "Turn, three to the side…"
He followed her instructions until the melody began to repeat itself, and then said, "That's it?"
"That's it."
"I see," he said, with that smirk that told her he was up to something. "Let me try."
Her eyes widened in surprise as he took the lead. "You're a fast learner."
"Very. Twirl… Spin—and stamp. Lift!" He took her by the waist and spun her in the air, before taking her hand again. Even through his leather gloves Elsa could feel the heat of his palm, and for some reason it made her blush furiously. The dance increased in tempo and pitch until they were whirling around at such a pace that she quite forgot about what she was supposed to be doing and let Hans lead her. Colors and half-images seemed to fly by as she twirled around, and she laughed aloud, exhilarated. When at last the dance came to an end, it startled her, and it was only due to his steadying hands that she didn't trip and fall over.
Elsa took several shallow breaths, her eyes still locked with Hans's, who was grinning like he'd just had the time of his life. She realized that he was still holding her, and quickly they separated. Upon looking around, it dawned on her that everyone was staring at them. Swirls of frost covered the floor where she had stepped, curling like rosemaling on the hardwood.
"Um—yes. Well, thank you, Prince Hans," she said with a smile that felt much too real for her liking. "But I think that's quite enough dancing for me tonight."
"As you wish, Queen Elsa," he said with a bow, taking her hand and brushing his lips against the top of her cold knuckles. Elsa's cheeks turned an even deeper hue of scarlet, and as Hans walked away, she glanced around furtively, hoping nobody else had noticed. The crowd has turned from staring to whispering and chuckling, and Elsa realized that as embarrassed as she felt about the matter, to them it only appeared a woman speaking with her husband-to-be. Undoubtedly they were only staring because the Queen was not known for dancing. Elsa made her way back over to the sidelines, tucking behind her ear a strand of blonde hair that had come loose during the dance. Hans respectfully walked a ways away to talk to a townsperson, and Elsa couldn't help but watch him go. When she finally managed to tear her eyes away, she realized Anna was watching at her.
A thick dread filled her stomach. "He's, um, he's a very good dancer," she tried to say nonchalantly.
"Told you so," Anna said with a grin. Elsa felt herself relax a little. Perhaps Anna hadn't noticed how strange her older sister was acting. Well, naturally she's too excited for tomorrow to be noticing much of anything, Elsa reasoned with relief. "Why don't you dance with Kristoff?" she suggested.
The ice harvester, who was standing not too far away to the other side of the queen, looked over at his name. "Oh, uh, no," he said quickly, glancing at Anna. "Have we all really forgotten how bad I am at dancing?"
"But these are country dances; you know them all," Elsa pointed out.
"It's alright, Elsa; I'm pretty tired anyways," Anna said hurriedly. She glanced at Kristoff, and they shared just the briefest of looks before glancing away again.
Elsa caught this, but couldn't for the life of her figure out what to make of it. "Alright," she said slowly.
There was a second's awkward pause, before Anna quickly stood up. "I'm going to go," she said, at the same moment that Kristoff said, "I've got some stuff to do." Both quickly hurried off in opposite directions, leaving the queen to sit there and watch the dancing, absolutely baffled.
It was much later that night when again the queen saw both her sister and the iceman again. The musicians had once again returned their instruments to their cases, and everyone was settling down for the evening. Kristoff was placing more wood in the hearth of the great fireplace. As Elsa approached, another female figure carrying something large and bulky brushed past her, and the queen realized it was her sister.
Anna put the chair down in front of Kristoff, who nodded his quiet thanks and then picked it up. Elsa watched as he snapped the legs off the piece of furniture like they were toothpicks, piling them into the fire. He kicked the back of the chair free from the seat and lay both pieces in the hearth, as well.
"We're out of firewood then," Elsa said grimly.
Kristoff glanced over and nodded. "But there're enough chairs and desks in this place to keep it going for a while… we're better off here than we are in the kitchens."
The wailing of a child suddenly pierced the air, making every head turn with irritation. The trio was close to the source of the distress, and all three looked over to see that it was Sáppa's infant child, who'd been awoken from his sleep by Kristoff's measures and was now wailing his annoyance for all the world to hear. The father picked the child up from his makeshift cradle of blankets, trying to soothe him, but to no avail.
"Where's the mother?" Elsa asked the other two.
"Went to get some extra blankets," Kristoff said, jerking his head back in the direction of the doors. He winced as the child's wailing increased in volume and pitch.
"The poor thing," Anna said, her lips and brows puckering in pity. The father's shoulders had slumped in exhaustion, and in desperation he was patting the child's back, trying frantically to make the crying stop.
"Perhaps he just needs a woman's arms?" a nearby man suggested. Kristoff quickly translated this, and the man's eyes widened in understanding. He turned to Anna and held the wailing child out to her, saying something in his own language.
"Oh, no," Anna protested, waving her hands. "No, I don't think that's a very good idea."
"Why not?" Elsa teased, glancing over. "You're not scared of a little baby, are you, Anna?"
Yes. Yes, I absolutely am. I'm scared that I'm going to drop him or hold him the wrong way or get him too hot or too cold or… But she couldn't say any of this aloud, Anna knew, so she tried to smile (it ended up more like a grimace) and accepted the child. For about the first half a second, she was completely terrified that any number of the scenarios she'd just imagined would come true.
And then… and then, that second passed. The child's fussing quieted, and Anna found herself staring with wonder at the tiny, precious little thing in her arms.
The infant was so small, with a tiny upturned nose and little sleepy eyes. He yawned, and Anna felt her heart melt. "Are you tired, baby?" she whispered. "I bet you are. I bet it's been a real long day for you." He yawned again, seeming in agreement. "Just go back to sleep. Auntie Anna will protect you."
Elsa smiled to herself. I knew she could do it. It really was a touching sight; Anna's reddish hair had escaped her braids and glowed golden in the firelight as she smiled at the infant boy. The scene looked almost identical to how Elsa remembered her own mother rocking Anna herself to sleep, when she was a child. Elsa had never noticed just how grown up her baby sister had become, and it was poignant moment, to realize that Anna was now an adult and soon would have children of her own.
The princess lay the now-soothed child back into his blanket-cradle, before kneeling down beside the little girl. "Hello," she said, smiling kindly. "What's your name?"
The girl stared back uncomprehendingly, and Anna frowned. "Oh, right, you can't understand me. Well, I'm Anna." She pointed to herself. "Anna."
"Áile," the girl said shyly, gesturing to herself.
"Hello, Áile!" Anna exclaimed cheerfully. The girl giggled. "Would you like to play?" She picked up a nearby spoon that hadn't been used for the cake, and "walked" it forward as if it were a toy. "Hi! I'm Mr. Spoon!"
Áile giggled again, and then her smile faded. Anna frowned, concerned. "What is it?"
"I'm afraid she doesn't have anything to play with, Anna," Elsa explained from behind her. "They lost most of their possessions when their sled was crushed; we won't be able to recover them until the storm's passed."
"Their sled was completely destroyed?" Elsa nodded. "That's terrible! Oh, Elsa, we have to do something!"
Anna's face was so distressed that Elsa couldn't help but agree instantly. "Certainly, once the storm is passed. But for the moment, we can only do so much, Anna."
"Oh, I know. But sleds are so expensive, Kristoff worked for ages to afford his..."
Suddenly, both royals heard a voice say, "Um, Princess Anna?"
Anna looked over, startled. A little girl with big blue eyes was standing there, holding two cloth-sewn dolls, with yarn for hair and calico dresses. "I, um, I just thought—well, if she doesn't have a dolly…she can have one of mine."
Anna's mouth opened in surprise, but then she smiled. "Of course; I'm sure she'd like that very much."
The little girl walked forward hesitantly, biting her lip. She held out one of the dolls to the other girl, who looked at it in surprise. "It's for you," she said nervously. "To share, I mean, if you want."
Áile stared at her for a long moment, and then slowly reached out her hand towards the doll, as if afraid the other might suddenly pull it away. Instead, quite the opposite happened: the Arendellian girl gently pushed the toy into her hands. Both smiled, and then the former sat down beside the latter. Soon they were giggling and playing as if they hadn't a care in the world. Sáppa let out a sigh of relief and turned to Anna, thanking her with a tone that translated across languages.
"It's no trouble," the princess reassured him. "Sometimes kids get crabby. They've been really patient so far, everything considered..."
The Queen couldn't help but smile. She glanced over at Kristoff, expecting him to translate this. Instead, she was surprised to see that the mountain man's face was pained, his jaw tight. Kristoff turned and quickly left, even as the redheaded princess stood up again and, smiling almsot wistfully at the family, turned to go speak with another pair of townspeople.
"Those two have been acting strangely all day."
Hans looked over. The pair was sitting together on the stone hearth in front of the fireplace, Elsa frowning as she looked between Anna and Kristoff, who were standing on opposite sides of the great hall and seemed to be determinedly avoiding each other. The prince glanced back at the queen. "You just noticed that today?"
"Yes- why? Is there something going on?"
Her cerulean eyes were piercing, and he found he had to look away. "You mean other than their upcoming marriage?" he asked nonchalantly. "Looks like wedding jitters to me." It wasn't technically a lie; Anna and Kristoff's unusual behavior could possibly be viewed as nervousness.
Thankfully, Elsa bought it. "If there even is a wedding tomorrow," she said with a sigh, glancing to the windows. Outside, the blizzard still howled strong. "We're running low on supplies, and morale."
"To make matters worse, half my brothers are missing—come to think of it, I haven't seen some of them for over a week, maybe longer," Hans said, brow furrowed. "I'm not their biggest fan, certainly, but I hope they're safe inside the castle and not caught outside somewhere."
"The storm hasn't blown over yet; what if you're forced to stay the night?" Elsa pointed out.
"If all else fails, I suppose we tomorrow reveal the whole plan and your people swarm the palace to imprison my brothers," Hans said grimly. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that; knowing Agnar, he could easily have a trick up his sleeve for just such an occasion. It's best you have every minute of surprise you can get to your advantage."
"Agreed." She hesitated, and then said, "I want to thank you for all your help. Without your… assistance… Arendelle would almost certainly be in danger of a long and bloody war."
Hans smirked. "You're thanking me? I'm surprised, your Majesty; you don't seem like one to swallow your pride."
"Stop it; I'm trying to express my gratitude," she said, scowling.
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and conceded, "Right, of course, my apologies. I owe you my thanks as well; I doubt very much I would be alive right now without your cooperation."
"Talk about swallowing pride," Elsa said with a chuckle.
"Prince Hans! Prince Hans!" They both looked over as a young brown-haired boy ran up to them.
"Per!" Hans said with a grin. "What is it? Are there any wolves around?" He put a hand to his sword pommel and looked around with faux-suspicion.
Per giggled. "No! But I told some of the others that you're the best story teller in the world, and now they want to hear one!"
"A story? Now?" Hans said, surprised.
"Please? I promise we'll be good and quiet!"
"Well…" He hesitated, and then sighed, but he was smiling. "Fine, inform the others that I'll tell one story. But then you've all got to go to bed, alright?"
"I promise!" the boy said eagerly, and hurried to get the rest of the children. Soon Hans and Elsa had a crowd of twenty or so little ones surrounding them; one of the herdswomen—Kristoff had told Elsa her name was Risten and that she spoke some Arendellian—had come to translate the tale for the Sámi children, who were all looking on eagerly.
Elsa nodded to the side. "I should probably go check on the others," she told the prince. "Keep the children busy?"
"Will do." She smiled and went to talk to several of the adults nearby as Hans began his tale.
"Once upon a time," he began, sitting down in front of the fire, "there was a little flower- a snowdrop. It was winter all around, and the snowdrop remained hidden in her petals and would not open."
The tale he had in mind was a story with which he was incredibly familiar, one which he adapted as he went. "One day, the sun came and knocked on the snowdrop's petals," he continued. "The snowdrop said, 'Come in,' in her own, small voice. But the sunlight was not strong enough to enter. The sunlight promised to stay with the snowdrop until summer, when it would be strong enough to open the flower's petals.
"And so the snowdrop waited. She waited and waited for summer- but it seemed summer would never come. Eventually, she said to herself, 'This takes so long! I must get out; I must stretch myself and unlock the door.' And so she did." His eyes never left the children's, but he could see Elsa listening out of the corner of his vision. "Still, winter covered the whole earth, and the little snowdrop was chilled by the cold. Wind and weather mocked the little flower and shut out the ray of sunlight. They said she could never survive their ice. Still the snowdrop stood, dressed in her beautiful white petals, and waited for summer.
"Eventually, a young girl found the snowdrop," he continued. "She looked at the snowdrop with kind, gentle eyes and saw that the flower was lovely. The girl believed that the flower was unique and special, born of the snow and strong enough to brave the winter. So she pulled the flower out of the frozen snow and brought it home with her.
"The girl sent the flower as a present to a dear friend of hers, and the friend locked the flower away in a box." He glanced away, and Elsa noticed how with the firelight behind him, his green eyes were the only thing she could see clearly. They seemed… regretful, somehow. "The flower believed that this friend, this boy, was a good boy, who cared for the girl. But when again the box was opened, the flower was shocked to see that the boy had changed. He no longer had love in his heart for the girl.
"The boy began to throw away all the beautiful things that the girl had given him. But the flower was saved by fate." He paused slightly, and then continued, "It fell to the floor, where it was rescued by a kind servant maid. The maid put the snowdrop between the pages of a poetry book. There she remained for many ages. When at last the book was opened, the man who read the book said that the flower had found her fitting place, for she was a flower who hoped for summer and bloomed before her time, much like the author of the poems in that book. And the flower understood this, how her uniqueness was what made her… beautiful."
Elsa was still and silent as a statue, her mouth open in a little 'oh.' Hans didn't dare glance at her, but instead said, "Alright, children, that's the end of the story. To bed now, all of you."
They begged and pleaded with him for another one, but the prince held firm and soon enough they all stood up and went back to their parents. Elsa was still watching when she heard a voice say from behind her, "Elsa? You okay?"
"What?" She turned and saw Anna standing there, looking at her in a confused manner. "Oh, um, yes. I'm fine. I'm just…" She desperately cast around for some way to escape the situation. "I'm just about to go decorate the church, that's all."
"Oh, really? Well… thanks," Anna said, with a smile that seemed somehow fake. Elsa began to panic that she was catching on, and quickly gave her sister a just-as-fake smile, before hurrying off in the direction of the church courtyard. As she did, she bumped into a man headed in the other direction.
"Oh, sorry- Lief, wasn't it?" she said, noticing he was one of Hans's brothers.
"Y-yes, your Majesty," he stammered, not meeting her eyes. At any other time, Elsa would've thought this strange, but her mind was too many other places at once to notice. The two quickly passed each other by, and Leif continued on his way.
The second youngest of the southern princes found his king in the corridor outside the Great Hall. "M-my liege," he said, bowing lowly. Agnar raised an eyebrow. "I-I have overheard something… something which may be of interest to you."
The blizzard roared around his ears as strode out onto the bridge. The moment he set foot on the other side, he let out a wordless roar into the winds, his voice ripped instantly by the winds. Nevertheless, after a moment or two, a feminine figure began to make its way towards him. The snow dodged away from her, curling around until the woman stood in front of him.
The Snow Queen's face was impassive. "I trust you have finally located the last shard?"
His face was hard. "You are mistaken," he said curtly.
Her eyes seemed to crackle with icy blue malice. "I am not a patient woman, King Agnar," she hissed. "If you have wasted my time-"
"We have been fooled," he snapped.
Her eyebrows drew narrow. "What?"
"The Queen and Hans. They've been working together," Agnar ground out, teeth gritted. "Tomorrow's wedding is all a sham. He intends to leave tonight if the blizzard lets up, not that it will."
Her eyes were cold, calculating. "…Perhaps."
"What?" he demanded, baffled.
"We are running out of time," the Snow Queen said, pacing back and forth among the howling winds. "The last shard must be found soon. An explosive encounter between Queen Elsa and your brother would be the most effective. If they've been working together, then it must mean that the Queen trusts him."
"I fail to see how this concerns ending the blizzard," Agnar pointed out.
"If Hans leaves tonight, I can… encourage… his powers to come to light," she replied cryptically. "He'll run back to the Queen for help, but he'll be prevented from seeing his lovely bride until they meet at the altar. By that point she'll already feel betrayed enough, but when his abilities are revealed, she won't hesitate to strike. Who knows? She may even kill him for us- or he might kill her." Her lips curled into a cold smile. "Either way, their fury will undoubtedly allow us to find the last hidden shard, not to mention the one left in the body of whoever dies. After that, we can deal with the fifth easily."
"Can you really clear up a storm so quickly?" Agnar said doubtfully.
The Snow Queen raised an eyebrow and lifted her hand, snapping her fingers. Almost instantly, the winds stilled, and clouds seemed to roll back and disappear into thin air, revealing a cold, sparkling sky studded with stars.
Agnar looked around, mildly impressed. "Very well then. I shall leave it to you." He started back up the bridge to the castle. "But if my brother is not at the altar tomorrow morning with his hands lit up like a Yule log, I will know who is to blame."
"Do not doubt me, King Agnar of the Southern Isles. Your brother will return to Arendelle by dawn, mark my words." And with that, she swept her white cloak around herself, climbed into her ice sleigh, and rode off into the night. Agnar watched her go, and then crossed the bridge back into the castle.