36. Fractured Fairy Tales
Duffin steadied her teacup in both hands, the liquid sloshing nearly over the rim as the clattering racket subsided and finally concluded with the sound of several rounded pieces of metal rolling to a stop. The historian's eyes were wide with surprise and alarm. The Queen of Arendelle never so much as twitched, epitomizing cool and calm.
"What ... was ... that?" Duffin dared to ask.
"The suit of armor closest to the spiral staircase being knocked into its companions," Elsa said as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Someone, probably Princess Anna, scored a triple."
"Does that happen often?" Duffin wondered, trying to match the Queen's composure.
"Not the triple. But the one closest to the staircase should get hazard pay," Elsa said blithely.
"You could move it out of the danger zone, Your Majesty," Duffin said dryly, and took a sip of her tea now that tranquility had returned.
"There's been an intermittent debate about that since at least my great-great-grandfather's time, but it's like our family's version of bowling now, so we always end up leaving it where it is. It would be a shame to deprive the next generations of their fun," Elsa replied airily. "Besides, that's a load-bearing wall behind the armor, so we need something there to buffer it from all the human cannonballs that come down the stairs."
"While we were waiting to be seated last night, Minister Nilsson mentioned the castle has withstood quite a bit of boisterous behavior," Duffin commented between bites and sips. "Which is somewhat surprising for such a highly respected royal dynasty."
"We come by our roughhousing honestly, Miss Duffin. We are nearly purebred Viking stock, after all. Direct descendants of Bjørn the Berserk. Seafaring raiders, bloody pirates," Elsa said, keeping the conversation relatively light while her visitor enjoyed the tea break.
"I did as much research back home on Arendelle's history as I could, Your Majesty. Throughout the Western Isles, your people were among the most dreaded of all the Norse invaders. When one saw your ships' figureheads and sails -with the eagle on them- one gave oneself, or least most of one's portable property, up for lost. I must say that your manners have markedly improved," Duffin ribbed, and raised her cup in a toast.
"It's amazing what a few centuries can do, ma'am. We eventually figured out that if one plunders too thoroughly, prosperity takes a while to grow back, and when it does, it's usually better prepared to defend itself," Elsa noted wryly. "Trading is more effective and lucrative in the long run. Which is why we go a-voyaging now instead of going a-viking."
"Ministers Nilsson, Haugen, and Rogalund also mentioned going a-voyaging yesterday. They indicated that was how your family acquired some of the art collection," Duffin said, and dabbed the last berry in the last of the whipped cream, and washed it down with some tea. She still had more than half a wedge of shortbread to go, and began to understand what Nilsson said about putting on weight from eating at the castle.
"We weren't just mere marauders, Miss Duffin. We were also intrepid explorers, and the urge to see what's out there still exists in varying degrees," Elsa explained. "And we still have keen eyes for objects of value, but we pay for them now instead of pillaging."
Duffin gave up for the time being on the shortbread. "For a family of former freebooters, you are quite liberal with the guests' rations," she quipped as she put her fork down and freshened her tea.
"Oh, we've always been hospitable to guests at our homes, Miss Duffin. Even back when we looted abbeys, sacked market towns, and dragged people off into thralldom, if you had arrived at our halls as a traveler, you would have been given a place by the fire, food and drink, clean clothes, and a bed for the night, and sent off on your way laden with supplies and gifts. Royalty was especially expected to be generous to anyone who showed up, but also farm wives had a tradition of keeping baskets with flatbread and cured meats hanging over their doors, in case company stopped by while they were out working," Elsa narrated. "Some of the households in the backcountry still do it, which is quite nice if you happen to find yourself running away from home deep into the mountains."
Duffin nearly choked on her tea. "Did ... you...?" she half-asked cautiously.
"Not at the time, ma'am, but I certainly would have in due course if things had gone differently. If I hadn't set off the Eternal Winter, I would have become the nisse or tomte -which are our counterparts of your broonies or hobs- of one or two farmsteads or a mining family's cabin, doing some chores while no one is looking in exchange for food," Elsa explained. "Supplemented by whatever I earned from fishing, ice harvesting, and gathering wild mushrooms, wild berries, and wild crocus stigmas for boreal saffron, I would have been nearly self-sufficient. And once I discovered how to use my powers to fell trees and mine, I really could have been in business if I had a middle man who would be equitable with a partner that he never actually saw or spoke with."
Duffin blinked again. "So you had a plan," she murmured.
"A very fragile one. It was a big gamble that hinged on there being a few country folk still open to the possibility that magic is real, and willing to be discreet and unquestioning about how all the oats were harvested in one night or how all the snow was shoveled before dawn and just honor the old traditions by leaving me a bowl of porridge every night - and I would have found a way to communicate that two eggs cooked any style and some seasonal fruit and veggies would also be appreciated. Of course, I hadn't planned on freezing everything within a radius of about fifty or sixty kilometers when I absconded, so it fell apart before it could get to that stage," Elsa sighed.
"How far in advance did you have this mapped out, Your Majesty?" Duffin inquired. She was thrilled that the Queen was being so candid.
"My father had told me that if I ever had to flee, he would have provisions and messages regularly left for me at certain prearranged spots near the North Mountain. Once I ... was on my own, I had to come up with something else because I wasn't sure how ... bad the upheaval would be in the aftermath. I couldn't ask the few people who knew about my magic to continually put themselves at risk to bring food out to me. Plus, there was a chance that they and everyone else associated with the castle might also have to flee. You know how quickly witch hunts can escalate or how long the distrust can linger. So, as it became clear that I couldn't finagle my way out of a public coronation ceremony, I thought maybe I could hide behind a familiar, homey legend, at least until a better long-term strategy presented itself," Elsa disclosed. "The week before the coronation, I even had someone hide a cache of food that keeps well and some skillings in one of the places my father told me about, in hopes that it would tide me over until ... I could work out a new trade deal."
Duffin contemplated that for a few moments. "You were that convinced your magic would be exposed?" she asked, somewhat puzzled.
"I fully expected to give myself away during the coronation ceremony, Miss Duffin," Elsa admitted. "As the monarch, one thing that I am powerless to change is the ritual that formally vests me with my power. It's a matter of first principles. I could not alter the part that required me to touch the holy orb and scepter with my bare, ungloved, exposed hands in front of a church full of local and foreign dignitaries any more than I could demand to be crowned before I was twenty-one years old or delay being crowned until I was old and sick and already on death's doorstep. I practiced, but I iced over the stand-ins for the orb and scepter every time. So it didn't look promising."
"How did you make it through the ceremony?" Duffin asked.
"I almost didn't. I kept telling myself that the gloves were only a psychological aid; that they never were any sort of physical barricade for my magic; that I touched things without freezing them all the time; that I could hold it back without the gloves just as easily; that all I had to do was not feel for the length of time that it took for the Bishop to say twenty-one words. Even then, it took all of my concentration, willpower, and 'magical muscles,' to coin a phrase, and I still frosted the regalia over a little bit. Fortunately, only the Bishop was close enough to see it, and it dissipated quickly in the heat as soon as I put them down," Elsa revealed. "But then I almost gave myself away because I was so relieved and elated that I didn't give myself away, but I clamped down just in time. As the night went on, I thought I would pull off a miracle, but naturally, just as the ball was coming to a close, my sister and I quarreled, and my anger got the better of me."
"And then you immediately headed for the hills. Did it occur to you to wait and see if maybe the people would accept you, Your Majesty?" Duffin posed.
"No, ma'am," Elsa said flatly. "Getting away before anyone got hurt was my only thought. Even if the crowds in the ball room and the courtyard didn't understand the dangers right away, I did. I was panicking, and the people were rapidly coming to comprehend just how dangerous the situation was. Luckily, they were still too shocked to mob me or trample each other, although they did block my intended escape route, so I had to ... improvise."
"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, did you notice the ice spreading in the fjord or anything odd about the weather as you were running off?" Duffin broached politely.
"I never looked back. Once I reached the far shore, my goal was to get to our backcountry mountains as quickly as possible without being seen, and I knew to use the forest to conceal myself for as much of the way as I could. I saw I was making it snow and creating some ice formations, but I thought it would all melt, just like the frost on the orb and scepter. My sister had commented on how warm it was during the ball, so I assumed nature would take care of it," Elsa stated.
"So you didn't perceive that you overpowered nature?" Duffin questioned.
"No, ma'am. I knew I must have been making it cold in my general vicinity along the way, but I had no idea how cold or how large of an area I was affecting," Elsa maintained. "And then once I climbed above the permanent snow line, I didn't have a basis for comparison anyway, and I couldn't see anything except naturally snow-covered mountains from my location. I just thought that ... I was in my element, that it was safe to finally relax, let my magic loose, and be who I am."
"And then when you found out the extent of your strength, you couldn't simply stop what you were doing?" Duffin queried, careful to keep any tone of accusation out of her voice.
"No, ma'am. As I said, my magic is quirky. The more I am afraid, especially of my magic and what it can or might do, the harder it is for me to control it. The more I view my magic as a curse, or something to be ashamed of, or an encumbrance, the more it acts as such. Needless to say, upon being informed that I had turned summer into winter for at least all of Arendelle by letting my magic loose and being who I am, I wasn't feeling very positive about my magic or myself," Elsa said frankly. "Trying to stifle my emotions wasn't working, either - not that other people were assisting me in that endeavor. And at any rate, I had never been able to completely get rid of the messes I made. I could push snow into a neat pile and slice ice into manageable pieces, but we always had to dispose of it by letting it melt down the drains, or tossing it in the fjord, or just putting it out with the natural snow and ice when there was any."
"Do you think you lacked that ability up to the point of the Great Thaw, Your Majesty, or that you just didn't know you could?" Duffin speculated.
"I think a little bit of both, Miss Duffin. When I was a small child, I probably couldn't unmake anything, just as I probably couldn't -thank goodness- make living snowmen, but somewhere along the line I gained the capability without realizing it," Elsa reasoned.
"So your powers have grown in scope as well as magnitude," Duffin observed.
"Yes, ma'am," Elsa nodded.
"Do you have any idea if they will eventually stop increasing?" the historian asked.
"I don't know anything for sure, Miss Duffin," Elsa fibbed, "but my instinct tells me that it will only grow. And yes, the implications of that are staggering."
Duffin paused. "Have you felt any difference, Your Majesty?"
"Under current conditions, not really. But if I had made it through coronation day without a slip-up, if things had to go back to the way they were when the gates were shut, I don't think it would be sustainable. I can tell that it's harder now to contain my magic by suppressing my emotions," Elsa acknowledged. "Of course, it could just be that it's harder to suppress my emotions, now that I'm 'out and about,' but my instinct also tells me that trying not to feel is not the right way to hold back my magic."
Duffin mulled that over. "Happily, now you don't have to restrain yourself, Your Majesty."
"Well, at least not to the extremes that I did, Miss Duffin," Elsa amended. "I still have to be careful and considerate of everyone else, otherwise your tea would freeze and the fires in the castle's stoves and hearths would falter. If I want my lunch, then I am obligated to keep my side of the bargain, just like the helpful domestic spirits of legend."
"I know you were being facetious about disputing the provenance of the Dragon's Scale, Your Majesty, but do you sincerely believe that some of mythological creatures exist or existed, or at least are founded on something that can't be explained by science and human psychology? Your plan to pass for a nisse has boosted the possibility that my grandmother might have actually, genuinely, truly seen something really magical, even if that particular something was only pretending to be a broonie," Duffin posited.
"It would hypocritical of me to reject the possibility, Miss Duffin. I'm about as far-fetched as a magical being can get, and yet, as you say, here I sit. Princess Rapunzel is also nearly implausible, even by the standards of fairy tales, and yet she's traipsing around. The odds of us being contemporaries should be infinitesimal, and yet it happened. So it's not impossible that there's something else really magical out there. Although I should advise you that it probably does not want to be found. Or that it's something you actually, genuinely, truly wouldn't want to find," Elsa warned. The trolls were likely not the only magical creatures who valued their privacy and autonomy.
"You sound like a few of the guides and local lore masters that I've encountered, Your Majesty," Duffin teased.
"Yes, but we're right. I speak from the firsthand experience of hiding successfully for thirteen years, ma'am. More like twenty-one years, because only very few people ever caught me using magic even before the gates were shut. And it's for the best to obey the Snow Queen's wishes when she demands some solitude," Elsa said matter-of-factly.
"Apropos going undetected for thirteen years behind the closed gates, Your Majesty, what has openly mingling with the world been like for you, if I may be so bold again? As I was saying before the tea break, Princess Rapunzel has learned quickly and adapted quite well to existence outside of a tower - and to the loss of her magic. I think being 'brought down to normal' has made adjusting to day-to-day life easier for her, especially since her power would have caused the problems that you called attention to. But you've had to face the challenge of integrating with your magic intact," Duffin noted.
"To be honest, we're all somewhat figuring it out, but in many aspects, nothing really changed," Elsa told her. "I mean, the people always thought I was strange, and it turns out that they were right, just not in the way they imagined. And on the other side of the equation, I am still the Queen. I don't have to suddenly fit in an average neighborhood social circle. It also helped that I needed to get right back to work, and the people saw me pick up the pieces and pick up where I left off, so they just carried on with their lives, too."
"Are you surprised it's been so easy, Your Majesty?" Duffin asked.
"Yes, ma'am. I anticipated having to abdicate and go into exile someplace very remote and naturally cold year-round, probably to Spitsbergen or maybe even Greenland. My sister spoke up for me, but I didn't see how the people could forgive me for the Eternal Winter so quickly, or have faith in me ever again," Elsa confessed, and shifted in her chair and stared at the desktop. It was the first sign of discomfort that Duffin had seen the Queen exhibit.
"All of the citizens that I've talked with seem to regard you very highly, Your Majesty," Duffin upheld.
"Yes, well, that's because once the majority of the people had endorsed my reign, most of the dissenters chose to emigrate, ma'am, and I banished a handful of people from Arendelle for their actions during the Eternal Winter," Elsa confided. "There are a few who have stayed here but frown on me. However, I view that as high praise, since they trust me enough to be overtly critical of me without being concerned about retribution. If someone as powerful as I am has a one hundred percent approval rating, it's easy to suspect that it stems from fear. And that's not the way I want to rule, even if I'm actually, genuinely, truly not doing anything to force people to pretend that they like me or my magic. I know what it's like to put on a show out of fear, and I can say it wasn't pleasant."
Again, Duffin saw wisdom -this time the "costly wisdom that is bought by experience," as Prof. Newark had quoted- flicker in the Queen's young face and eyes. "Happily, the greater part of the people seem neither to fear you nor abhor you, Your Majesty, judging by yesterday at the waterfront. We all had ... fun, pure and simple fun," Duffin asserted. "Even the stuffy and stilted academic and diplomatic types."
"Fortunately, I have Princess Anna, Olaf, Ice Master Bjorgman, and Sven as my public ambassadors, Miss Duffin. There's no way I could pull it off without them, because there are still occasions, like last year's Yule Bell ceremony, when it's obvious that I'm ... out of touch, even if I'm trying to do something nice. Plus, Minister Haugen's idea to bring in tourists to see my magic has been good for Arendelle's overall economy, as have the opportunities for me to directly use my magic for infrastructure projects. If the people can get tangible benefits from my powers, they are more likely to view it and me favorably, or at least to tolerate the risk that yields the reward. And it helps me feel happier about myself and my magic when I use it constructively, literally and figuratively," Elsa declared.
"Which in turn greatly reduces the risks associated with your magic," Duffin concluded.
"Exactly, Miss Duffin. My magic both creates and is susceptible to getting caught in continuous loops, processes that reinforce themselves. As long as I'm mindful and set things up right, it's relatively easy to stay on one of the good tracks. It's almost like a kind of principle of inertia for magic," Elsa said with faint smile.
Duffin could only shake her head and chuckle in astonishment. "It certainly defies the stereotypical depiction of magic in the lore, Your Majesty. On one hand, you and your magic are so closely connected that your sheer attitude about it affects how it behaves; but on the other, it's as though you're tapping into an external force that perpetuates itself once you've set it in action."
"Clapeyron and Ørsted postulated that my magic works by changing certain physical laws and properties, and that once I've manipulated them they will remain that way unless I explicitly and directly alter them again," Elsa said and shifted in her seat again, fighting against the impulse to stand up and pace.
"Hence your magic theoretically has ontological inertia," Duffin grasped.
"Their hypothesis can't be easily tested," Elsa stressed. "It's also possible that the universe would reset itself once the influence of my magic is ... gone. But since nobody yet knows for sure how my magic does what it does or why I have such powers, right now it's better for me if I use my magic intuitively rather than worrying if I put all the laws of thermodynamics back the way they ought to be after I'm done playing with them." Elsa couldn't resist rubbing the knuckles of her left hand and fidgeting with her feet.
Duffin could tell that this was an edgy subject for the Queen and tried to steer the interview toward a topic that she hoped would be less awkward. "Your Majesty, when you use your magic intuitively, you seem to have no problem returning the laws of thermodynamics to normal. Are they something you 'just know,' in the same fashion that your inner tensometer 'just knew' how much force you were applying to the steel yesterday, or how your magic 'just knows' when there's poison in food? I think Prof. Sinibaldo intends to pick your brain on Thursday at the magic lab."
"Actually, Miss Duffin, I'm not very helpful that way, because I am not bound by many of the rules of nature," Elsa said, and channeled her magic rather than curbing her restive emotions. She turned her right hand palm up and made a lifting motion; the snowflakes that Elsa had created to break the ice at the beginning of the conversation -all them still unmelted- floated up toward the ceiling. "Sometimes, I can give valuable clues by describing what is going on during certain experiments. However, I can absolutely wreck some studies, especially on heat transfer and changes of phase." Elsa closed her hand into a fist, and the individual snowflakes coalesced back into a ball; the Snow Queen then quickly splayed her fingers, and the ball of snow disappeared in a glittering spray of white-blue light. Duffin's stared raptly at the casual display of power. "Besides, 'just knowing' isn't an adequate answer for the scientists; they need to show their work and independently reproduce their results. Which reminds me that I should drop off a proof to Prof. Holmboe that the equation from yesterday meets his criteria. If I were still his student, he would have scolded me for not demonstrating how it satisfies the conditions."
"Since you developed the ability later on, Your Majesty, is annihilating just as easy for you as creating?" Duffin wondered.
"When I am in harmony with myself and my magic, there is no difference. When I am ... having a bad day, it balks until I ... reconcile with it," Elsa said carefully.
"Have you ever had similar difficulties creating anything, Your Majesty?" the historian asked.
"If you mean have my powers ever failed when I want to make snow or ice or drop the temperature, then no, that's never happened, even when I have a bad day. I always get something, although maybe not the specific results that I want. If you mean has there ever been a learning curve for conjuring objects out of snow or ice, then yes," Elsa said. "I do remember needing a few attempts before I managed to make a halfway decent toy ship out of ice. It took a little practice, akin to getting the hang of writing and drawing; instead of guiding a pen with my hand, I was directing my magic with my mind to create things that are more complicated and detailed than snow, ice, and frost or simple geometric forms."
"I assume that there were no 'magic classes,' and you had to master that on your own," Duffin surmised.
"Correct, ma'am. I had neither an innate sense of what not to do nor real teachers, which was obviously less than optimal," Elsa divulged. "Trying to explain to my parents what I was doing and feeling and their assessments and suggestions helped me gain some insight and kept me out of trouble for a while."
"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, what were some of your parents' early assessments and suggestions?" Duffin put forth.
"While they told me I was very special, they also made it extremely clear to me at quite a young age that I shouldn't use my magic when I was around anyone who didn't already know about it, and that I should always ask for permission to use magic, even if I was solely with people who knew," Elsa recalled. "They felt a policy of supervised use was for the best."
"So they were cautious," Duffin said.
"Of course. I'm sure my parents, especially my father, already imagined ... potentialities that I was too naïve to comprehend. Potentialities -such as my powers might have a dangerous side, and other people might try to harm me because of my powers- that a happy little magical princess living a life of sheltered luxury in a small, peaceful, well-off country wouldn't begin to think about. Until one day I ... became cognizant of those potentialities. And so they shut the gates, and I tried to keep my magic hidden, in order to protect everyone," Elsa justified.
"I see. So you felt the measures were necessary at the time," Duffin reckoned.
"Yes, ma'am. I graphically understood what could happen to me and everyone else, and given the information we had, it seemed to be the safest plan. Believe me, this was not something my father decided on a whim or out of spite," Elsa contended.
"I don't doubt that for one moment, Your Majesty," Duffin assuaged. "It just sounds ... like an incredible burden for an eight-year-old to bear."
"It was an incredible burden for my whole family, Miss Duffin. But that's what it took, and so that's what we did, because we had not just my life and rights to be concerned about, but also those of all the other people in at least Arendelle and possibly much farther afield," Elsa said solemnly. "Since I am the one who is peculiar and dangerous, my needs must give way when a serious conflict of interests arises."
Duffin deliberated for several moments. "Did your parents explain that to you, or is that something else you 'just knew?' "
"That's one part learning from an awful experience, and one part standard 'Queen lessons' here in Arendelle. The king my father used our own example to teach me about the complexities and the sacrifices involved with the concept of 'the greater good.' Even in a small, peaceful, well-off country, there are times when certain segments of the populace need or want mutually exclusive things, or dire emergencies crop up, and then it's once again my lot to decide who gets a happy ending," Elsa pronounced, and Duffin once again saw that mysterious wisdom in her host's eyes. "It's not always as simplistic as saying 'There are more people in Group One than in Group Two, so we'll do what Group One wants.' "
"I guess that's a side of authority that ordinary folks don't tend to think about," Duffin said after a few beats. "And a side of magic that is barely touched on in the lore. Being so powerful at such a young age is not a common feature in the tales, and when it is mentioned, usually the whole race that the precocious child belongs to has special abilities, or there is some mature magic user to help train the child."
"That's because a magical child in a real-life, normal society probably wouldn't survive very long," Elsa reflected. "For all we know, there are dozens, if not hundreds, of babies born with magical powers each year, but they are all killed soon after their births out of fear or because of religious ideology. It is a testament to how loving and accepting my parents were -and to the resources available to them- that I wasn't ... euthanized within my first hour of life or when we became aware that my magic ... has hazardous aspects."
It was Duffin's turn to squirm uncomfortably in her chair. "That sounds like a grim realization for an eight-year-old to have, Your Majesty," she said quietly.
"Oh, that knowledge didn't hit me until I was older, ma'am, and it made me sincerely appreciate everything my parents did for me. Besides, many non-magical children face much grimmer facts of life and grimmer fates, at younger ages," Elsa remarked. "I'm sure you've seen some shocking conditions during your travels, even in wealthy, progressive countries."
"All too true, Your Majesty," Duffin granted. "I must praise Arendelle for being the only port I've ever landed in -and that includes those back home in Lothian- that hasn't had children who clearly either have to fend for themselves or contribute to their family's income trying to part me from my money by some method. I haven't even seen an adult beggar or bumped into a would-be pickpocket."
"Yes, well, if you had been here during peak tourist season, you probably would have encountered a would-be pickpocket, although I must defend my people by saying that almost all of the thieves we caught were tourists themselves or interlopers from neighboring countries who snuck in to take advantage of the sightseers," Elsa smiled. "But we do not allow begging in public; and I do not let the kingdom's children fend for themselves or sacrifice their educations to help put food on their family's table."
Duffin arched a brow. "I take it you have a system that provides for the needs of orphans and the handicapped."
"Correct, ma'am. It helps that we're a small, peaceful, well-off country, with a robust work ethic and an old Viking tradition of fostering children as a way of strengthening social bonds. And for the stubbornly proud holdouts who say they won't take 'charity,' we find jobs that they are capable of doing to earn their keep, as it were. Fortunately, producing boreal saffron still requires a large seasonal workforce and is legitimately lucrative, so I don't need to pad their pay too much," Elsa said with a wily wink and placed an index finger over her lips.
Duffin could discern the merry, gentle prankster lurking behind the regal and dignified Snow Queen and laughed heartily. "Your secret is safe with me, Your Majesty," she pledged.
"Thank you, Miss Duffin. It would never do for the people to see where the sleight of hand comes in," Elsa deadpanned.
"And here I thought you of all people wouldn't resort to parlor tricks," Duffin said with mock disappointment.
"Happy endings entail all kinds of magic, but accounting magic is the most crucial variety. Sorry to say that it is not as entertaining to watch as ice magic," Elsa said and cast a glance at the stack of documents on the desk.
"If I may be so bold, how hard is it to balance being the Queen of Arendelle and the Queen of Ice and Snow?" Duffin asked, remembering Minister Haugen's comment that it could take a month to clear an opening in the monarch's schedule for a trip to the North Mountain and the Ice Palace. Judging from the pile of papers, ledger books, and folios, he wasn't exaggerating.
"It isn't usually a problem. I hope you can understand that I need to use my brain just as I need to use my magic, and as we discussed, I like using my magic for the betterment of Arendelle. It's permitted us do projects -like dredging the fjord and leveling the ground for the university and the embassies- that would have been cost prohibitive if not impossible with existing conventional technology, so I would say that my dual roles make a pretty good team," Elsa laughed. "Sometimes, I could use more hours in the day or more days in the week, but I think most non-royal, non-magical people feel the same way."
Reluctantly, Duffin peeked at the clock and saw that her allotted time was nearly up. "Very much so, Your Majesty. I could definitely use a few more hours right now, but Master Kai will soon shoo me out," she said. "I must thank you for making time for me, Your Majesty. I can see how busy you are."
"You are quite welcome, Miss Duffin. I'm sure you didn't get to ask many of your planned questions and some of my answers undoubtedly call for further inquiry, so perhaps we can continue the conversation as our schedules allow," Elsa proposed. "In our correspondence, I believe you wrote you envisioned staying in Arendelle for at least a month. I am booked solid for the rest of this week, however that includes the magic lab on Thursday. But next week, aside from standard duties, I only have one mediation starting on Monday and an open court session on Thursday. There's no way to know in advance how protracted either of those will be -or if a diplomatic mission from some distant land will unexpectedly pop up- but if you have any leeway I'll try to fit you into the chaos until we can properly arrange additional meetings."
The Queen's offer was more than Duffin had hoped for. "I am extremely grateful, Your Majesty. I will be available whenever you have an opportunity," she guaranteed. "I'll inform the innkeepers about my daily itineraries so that messengers know where to look for me. Now that I'm here, I foresee staying for at least the winter, so my schedule is flexible."
"Then we'll figure something out, ma'am," Elsa said. "We don't get as many visitors during the winter -something to do with the weather, I suppose- although we do have the Yuletide and New Year festivals, and I am slated to travel to one of the neighboring kingdoms once the holidays are over. But there's room for a few chats over a cup of tea in there somewhere."
"That is very generous of you, Your Majesty," Duffin said humbly. There was a sequence of soft taps on the study's door.
"It's just talking, Miss Duffin," Elsa deflected, ignoring the knock.
"You're making my sequel possible, so it's important to me," Duffin said with feigned pique.
"All right, then: You're welcome," Elsa said with smirk. "Come in, Kai."
The royal handler entered and bowed, followed by a maid with an empty tray. "Excuse me, Your Majesty, but it's time for the next item on your agenda, unless there has been a change of plans," Kai said politely.
"Thank you, Kai; I will keep to today's schedule, but I have invited Miss Duffin back later next week to resume the interview. Also, Miss Duffin may borrow 'The Grimmerie' and 'The Necronomicon' for examination and giggles, if she so desires," Elsa directed.
"Very good, Your Majesty," Kai said.
Duffin packed up her notebook, somewhat chagrined that she had copied down only two things. She resolved to write out as much of the dialogue as she could remember, as soon as possible. The maid reached to collect the tea break appurtenances, but hesitated when she saw the shortbread remaining on the plate.
"Would you like to take that home with you, Miss Duffin?" the maid asked.
"Yes, please," Duffin replied. "Now that you mention it, it would make for a nice snack this evening."
The maid set the plate on the desk, and Duffin watched in fascination as the Snow Queen held her right hand over it, fingers spread out and curving slightly toward the target, and stared intensely at the shortbread. She then gestured as though subtly beckoning for someone's attention, and a square of ice-fabric formed between the baked good and the plate. The maid tied the corners up into a neat bundle, and handed the treat to the historian.
"Wouldn't want it to get stale," Elsa said simply. "Oh, and by the way, I don't know if you read about all the privileges that come with your VIP pass, but it includes a tour of the castle; the next showing starts at one o'clock. And lunch in the main dining hall, which is served between around about now and two o'clock. What's on the menu today, Kai?"
"Rotisserie chicken, noodles dressed with a lemon and butter sauce, and sautéed chard, ma'am," Kai responded respectfully; the kitchen staff had unsurprisingly selected a few of their employer's favorite recipes.
"More food?" Duffin asked weakly. She stole a look at the overseer's portly figure and appreciated what the man was up against.
"Vikings have hearty appetites, ma'am. Can't do all that rowing and ransacking on empty stomachs. Give it an hour and a half or so and you might be ready for another bite to eat," Elsa chuckled. "I believe the Khentiians will be eating at our table today, so you'll have interesting company. But if you have ever trespassed in the Great Taboo in your search for real magic, I recommend keeping that to yourself until they have departed from Arendelle. Good day, Miss Duffin."
Duffin nodded mutely, stood up, and curtsied again. The Queen nodded graciously, and the major domo ushered the guest out of the study.
"The library is this way, if you would like to see the books now, ma'am," Kai said.
"That would be fine, sir, although I am more interested in a place to write down the details of the interview while they are still fresh in my mind. I completely botched recording the conversation about five minutes into it," Duffin admitted as she followed him.
"It's a common occurrence when talking with Queen Elsa, ma'am," Kai consoled her. "The library is just the place for your task."
They rounded a corner and climbed a flight of stairs. Kai produced a key, opened a set of double doors, and escorted Duffin into the library. She put her satchel on a sofa and gazed around the room. The chief of staff fetched a step ladder from a corner, and climbed it to retrieve two very old-looking tomes: the leather covers were cracked and peeling, and the spines were broken. The one entitled "The Necronomicon" had a metal latch on its boards, presumably for a padlock, and a metal ring, presumably for a chain.
"Please be careful with them, ma'am," Kai cautioned. "They might not hold any magical secrets, but they are antiques." Duffin nodded mutely again. "When you are ready for lunch, just go down the stairs, turn left, and proceed along the corridor; you will encounter a guard who will conduct you to the dining room when you present your VIP pass."
"Thank you, sir," Duffin said, and took a deep breath. The royal handler smiled and left her to contemplate the morning's events. The best-selling author disregarded the clichéd grimoires, sat down on the sofa, and began to write about real magic.
Author's Notes - Arendelle's Viking history, and "boreal saffron" and why the crocus is the royal emblem and why the country seems so prosperous will be addressed during the castle tour (up next).
Viking-era hospitality really did include hanging a basket with bread, meat, butter, etc. over the door. Present-day real-life Telemark and inland Aust-Agder are apparently on the culturally conservative side, but many of the customs and styles of dress preserved there would date roughly from the time "Frozen" takes place. So in order to keep the rural folk's traditionalist character for this story, I opted for them to hang on to a few Viking-era practices. Yeah, I know there are a lot of centuries between the 1800s and the 1000s, but let's face it, Renaissance-era Scandinavia isn't as well-known and probably not as cool as "the fury of the Northmen" era.
The legendary nisse, tomte, brownie/broonie, and hob are well-explained in Wikipedia. My "head canon" for why Elsa is dancing around and creating a palace made of ice after fleeing civilization and easy access to food instead of having her own "Oooh, what am I gonna do?!" moment is that she had a plan. She had obviously been practicing holding the orb and scepter before the cornonation, and seemed to realize that disaster was in the cards. So she had some food and money stashed in the mountains to get her by until she could find work. By the way, I also have an outline for a story in which Elsa does ice over the orb and scepter at the ceremony before the Bishop can pronounce her the Queen and runs off, but doesn't set off an Eternal Winter. She tries out life as a nisse on farm, and the "business partner" for her ice harvesting, timber, and ore enterprises would be Kristoff, of course. Chaos, pathos, and hijinks ensue as all sorts of people are hunting for Elsa for all sorts of reasons; Anna doesn't know how to run the kingdom; Hans is trying to get his filthy hands on the crown; everybody suspects the Snow Queen is behind Kristoff's newly-acquired success, and he is torn between keeping the money rolling in and returning Elsa to her "rightful" place; Elsa is too afraid of having to go back in "the cage" or hurting someone to talk to or listen to anyone; and there's a real nisse, along with the trolls, watching everything unfold.
As a teaser, when Elsa and Co. travel to Thelir, they will encounter a small grave and story of quiet heartache that spurs Elsa to make a fateful proclamation.
"The Grimmerie" belongs to the "Wicked"-verse. "The Necronomicon" belongs to H.P. Lovecraft (with further appropriations by other writers in eldritch horror genre), but I imagine this one to be much more like the so-called "Simon Necronomicon."
On deck is the castle tour with the rest of the researchers. Anna gets a solo ("Clumsy Girl" in the style of Garbage's "Stupid Girl"). Olaf hunts for the elusive lizard.
