39. Sock It To Them
On this gloomy day, the ball room's chandeliers were lit to supplement the dim natural light -which was not even enough to make shadows- let in by the upper windows. In the stillness, a light rain could be heard gently pattering on the panes. The rich browns of the woodwork glowed warmly, and the floor was perfectly smooth and well-polished. Long stretches of expertly joined boards and tall columns accentuated the proportions of the space. The alcoves tucked behind the pillars added an extra dimension of magnificence.
Anna had always thought the place positively begged for movement and spectacle: Dancing, running, skipping, sliding, jumping, rolling, throwing, swinging, grand entrances and exits, great performances. She didn't care what Grimsen was going to say. Sock sliding was the safest of her favorite childhood pastimes, and this was the safest expanse in which to sock slide. A person had enough area to reach top speed and still glide for several meters without any worries of colliding with anything. And it wasn't like she would force anyone to participate.
"Welcome to the Great Hall, as it is officially known," Stefanie said, spreading her arms wide. "Almost everybody calls it the ball room, but this is also where the monarchs of Arendelle hold open court, formally receive dignitaries, muster the castle staff, and succor and protect the people in times of emergency-"
"-And have sock sliding competitions," Anna interrupted mischievously.
The Princess kicked off her shoes and sprinted down one of the darker-stained stripes on the patterned floor. When she reached the fourth column, she locked her knees and ankles and let momentum take over. "Sock sliding is a great indoor activity for a drizzly day," she said nonchalantly as she coasted. "Come on, try it!"
Grimsen looked up at the ceiling in search of patience. Stefanie shook her head and prepared to accept the inevitable. The guests stared, but by now they all had ceased to be surprised by Her Highness' playful, informal manner. And, quite frankly, it did seem like a great indoor activity for a drizzly day. The Irishman was the first to begin untying his shoelaces, followed by an unexpectedly eager Homberg.
His fellow researchers gave him quizzical looks. "I wanted to do something like that last night when we first walked in here for the reception," the naturalist confessed sheepishly.
"Of course you did!" Anna encouraged. "The staff and the guards do it all the time - Elsa has no problem with it. Even mother and father would sometimes dash in here and just let it rip. Didn't they, Captain?"
"Yes, Your Highness, they did," Grimsen answered with a sigh. Anna smiled smugly at him, and he cast a glance at the now-hopeful crowd. Arguing with the Princess and the guests over this would probably take longer simply than letting them have a go at it. "However, I would like to remind the tourists that in conjunction with receiving their travel permits, they agreed to release and indemnify certain Parties from liabilities that may arise during their sojourn in Arendelle." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small pamphlet, and read: "All participants acknowledge that engaging in this Activity is entirely voluntary; and that they assume all risks, which may include, among other things, muscle injuries and broken bones, as well as the risk of any negligence by other participants or by the Released Parties, and the risk of injury caused by the condition of any property, facilities, or equipment used during the Activity, and accept personal responsibility for any injury (including, but not limited to, personal injury, disability, dismemberment and death)-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Anna cut in as the visitors exchanged dismayed looks. "They're sock sliding on a wooden floor, not jumping off a cliff or swimming with alligators!"
"I'm just jogging everyone's memory because most people don't bother to truly read Queen Elsa's waiver before they sign it, ma'am," Grimsen maintained.
"That's because Queen Elsa's legalese gives most people a splitting headache," Anna tweaked. "She can read and write and listen to stuff like that all day with no trouble, but it makes almost everyone else go cross-eyed after a few sentences."
"Her Majesty is only trying to protect us, Your Highness," Grimsen stated stiffly.
"Oh, yeah. If Arendelle is ever attacked, Her Majesty will unleash a blizzard of paperwork in triplicate and an army of snow-lawyers to either scare off the enemies or stupefy them into submission. Then, she'll go on the counterattack and trick them into signing their lives away and their countries over to us. It's our secret weapon," Anna said sarcastically. The visitors, along with Vollan and Holt, laughed into their hands. Grimsen sighed again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you pull a muscle or twist an ankle, it's your problem, not ours, so please be careful and know your own limits," Stefanie said politely. "Fair enough?"
"Yes, ma'am," Homberg consented, and picked up his shoes and Anna's and deposited them against a wall. "We shouldn't have any mishaps if we keep the footwear out of the way and stay in our lanes."
Zlata and Waclaw grinned at each other, took their shoes off, and lined up with the Princess, the Irishman, and Homberg. The Dutch mother caught the eyes of her husband and son, and they followed suit. In short order, all of the children and nearly half of the adults -including Debora, Newark, John, Irene, and Papadopoulos- had arranged themselves in a row and awaited the go-ahead.
"Okay, when you reach the fourth column, stop running and start sliding. We'll do that a few times, so you can get the hang of it. And then we'll do one to see how far you can slide," Anna instructed. "On the count of three. Get set. One, two, three, go!"
The participants charged off, some faster than others. Waclaw arrived at the appointed column first, with Zlata not too far behind him. They burst into giggles as they slid, which proved to be contagious, and the rest of the group laughed and whooped. Even Grimsen had to chuckle at the scene.
"Whee!" Anna exclaimed. "You all are naturals at this! You should definitely stop by the skating rink at the Harvest Festival! Ready for another round?"
The guests nodded enthusiastically, and a few who had held back from the first run joined in. "It's a kind of physics experiment," Sinibaldo rationalized as he removed his shoes.
"On the count of three again. On your marks," Anna marshaled. "One, two, three, go!"
They bolted again, and this time the Irishman, Homberg, and Newark presented a serious challenge to Waclaw, but the young Pole still passed the fourth column first. Zlata retained her standing as the fastest woman, coming in two steps ahead of Anna. And once again, everyone made sounds of merriment and delight as they slid.
"You all are doing great! Nobody has lost their balance - or a limb!" Anna said drolly. "For this next one, let's hold our positions when we finish sliding, so we can see the results of the physics experiment." The Princess curtsied to Sinibaldo, who bowed with a jocular flourish. "Ready? One, two, three, go!"
Everyone raced off, with Waclaw, the Irishman, Homberg, Newark, Zlata, and Anna taking the lead again, pursued in earnest by the rest of the pack; Sinibaldo produced a surprising burst of speed to nearly catch up with the front-runners. Everyone was silent this time as the sliding stage was entered, as though any noise or excess motion would affect the outcome. Waclaw's face was a portrait of utter determination ... which swiftly turned to one of mild peevishness when he saw that Sinibaldo had won by a nose-length.
"I simply have more mass than you do, my dear fellow," the Lombard said jovially and patted his pudgy stomach, "and therefore more inertia."
"I want a do-over," Waclaw said with feigned pique. "I'm pretty sure I can run faster."
"Don't pout. Nobody likes a sore loser," Zlata teased. Waclaw stuck his tongue out at her.
"That was a good race, one of the best we've ever had!" Anna praised, genuinely unperturbed about finishing second in the women's division.
"Who holds the record for the longest slide?" Zlata asked.
"Take a wild guess," Anna said with faux exasperation.
"Must be Queen Elsa," Newark chortled.
"She cheats. She cheats sooo bad," Anna affectionately accused. "Her ice-fabric socks are ultra-low-friction."
"So make her wear normal socks," Sinibaldo suggested.
"Oh, we have, but it also turns out that my sister is really fast," Anna told him. "As in, impossibly fast. Ask them." She tossed her head in the guards' direction.
"Her Majesty's sprinting speed is phenomenal, and her endurance must be magically enhanced. I don't think anyone in the world could keep up with her after four hundred meters, especially if it involves going uphill or up stairs," Vollan vouched. Holt nodded in agreement.
The researchers shared meaningful looks as another aspect of the Snow Queen's magic was uncovered.
"Queen Elsa has trained intensively since childhood, and she still has a fairly rigorous calisthenics program. So, while some of her abilities are ... magically enhanced, she has put in some old-fashioned hard work," Grimsen elucidated. "Have you all had enough sock sliding for now?"
"Maybe," Anna said breezily. "Or maybe we need a rigorous calisthenics program, too."
"You know, Your Highness, I have a class at one o'clock," Stefanie prodded. "And our guests might have other items on their schedules."
Anna's eyes went wide. "Right! Sorry!" she blurted. "I've been incredibly rude!"
"It's all right, Princess," Papadopoulos reassured her. "I suspect most of us think you're magically enhancing the tour." The visitors, guards, and guide laughed; Anna blushed slightly.
"I'll try to be helpful instead of disruptive from now on," Anna humbly pledged. "So, on with the show, Miss Rask."
Stefanie smiled fondly at her good-natured friend and picked up where she left off: "As I was saying, this is where the monarchs of Arendelle hold open court, formally receive dignitaries, muster the castle staff, succor and protect the people in times of emergency ... hold sock sliding competitions ... and of course, sometimes stage concerts, recitals, and theatrical productions. Over here in this recess is the castle's largest pianoforte." She lead everyone over to the instrument. "There are three others, along with three harpsichords and two clavichords."
"We also have a few Hardanger fiddles, regular violins, violas, cellos, a double bass, drums, harps, lutes, guitars, flutes, clarinets, oboes, a bassoon, trumpets, bugles, horns, trombones, some old viols and sackbuts, and a birthday bukkehorn," Anna contributed.
"Quite the collection. Was there ever a court orchestra?" Debora asked.
"Not in the sense of people employed solely to play music, ma'am, but it wasn't uncommon for some of the royal family, staff, guests and associates to get together for a session," Stefanie replied.
"We also have a lot of sheet music," Anna put in. "I think we have just about everything that Bach, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven wrote."
"Ah, golden oldies," the Irishman said.
"Any home-grown composers?" Debora inquired.
"No one famous outside of Arendelle," Anna shrugged. "We mostly stick to short songs, dance tunes, patriotic anthems and some hymns. Nobody has written, like, a piano sonata or a symphony or an opera."
"I'm still curious to hear more of the locals' output," Debora insisted. "You Arendellians are a musical bunch."
"Oh, you'll hear a lot at the Harvest Festival; I'll introduce you to some of the musicians. And I can teach you a few things later, and show you what we have in the castle library," Anna offered.
"I'd be thrilled, Your Highness," Debora beamed.
"It's my pleasure. Music lessons were my favorite. Way more fun than all that trade deal and tariff gobbledygook that Elsa had to learn. I guess being 'the spare' had its advantages," Anna reflected and cast a pensive look at the rather modest, high-backed wooden chair that was situated against a wall on a dais. The tour group followed her gaze.
Stefanie gestured to the seat's stylized carvings and purple and green upholstering. "The Crocus Throne," the guide intoned solemnly.
The researchers shared puzzled glances. They had seen the chair at Monday night's reception, but had no idea it was the throne.
"It's not very fancy, now is it?" the Irishman observed. "Doesn't even have a cup holder."
"After everything else, I was expecting something a little more flamboyant," the Dutch father admitted. "At least some gold leaf on the crocus."
"It looks uncomfortable," Sinibaldo assessed.
"Yeah, even the cushions aren't that soft. You're not gonna just doze off in that," Anna confirmed. "And I think that's the point."
"The design is still based on the old Sea Eagle Throne, which was reworked to make the first Crocus Throne," Stefanie imparted. "King Erik the Good wanted it to serve as a reminder of harder times, so that we shouldn't become too conceited and complacent."
"Has Arendelle ever had a bad king or queen?" Papadopoulos asked with a chuckle.
"Oh, from a foreign perspective many of our early kings were brigands. And some were dissolute by modern standards, or at least wastrels," Stefanie explained. "Our worst king in domestic opinion was Bjørn the Berserk."
"What did he do?" Eliasz warily wondered.
"Aside from hewing friend and foe alike when his frenzy was upon him during a raid, he was also prone to bullying our people to extract more taxes and tribute. And then, when he managed to reach the ripe old age of forty-two, he feared that he might not die in battle and therefore fail to go to Valhalla or Fólkvangr. So he asked his elder son, Prince Hróaldr, to help him 'end his life in glorious combat,' to quote the saga," Stefanie expounded.
"He asked his own son to kill him?" John interjected incredulously.
"In effect, sir, although not necessarily deliver the death stroke itself," Stefanie said. "King Bjørn and Prince Hróaldr each rallied a band of one hundred warriors, including ten shield-maidens, and then the two sides met on a field in the vicinity of Sundaleiðr, in the eastern part of Arendelle, and fought each other with the specific goal of giving the king an honorable death."
Astonishment once again pulsed through the tour group.
"That's... that's..." John stumbled.
"Crazy," chorused Anna, Stefanie, Grimsen, Vollan, and Holt.
After a few beats of silence, the visitors laughed nervously.
"How did it, uh, turn out?" Eliasz ventured.
"Only seventeen people survived the carnage, and those were simply because they had been debilitated somehow or other early in the fray, and it was subsequently considered shameful to engage them since they could no longer fight properly. King Bjørn reportedly killed twenty-nine people, some of whom were his own soldiers that were unfortunate enough to get in his way, before he was finally slain either by Rikuláta Úlfrekrsdatter, a shield-maiden, or Skagi Ballungrssen, a commoner. No one is quite sure who dealt the true coup de grâce, since the melee was very chaotic, and both Rikuláta and Skagi also succumbed to their wounds not long afterward. In addition, Prince Hróaldr met his demise, along with several nobles from other countries, including a prince from Burgundaholmr and a prince from Gautland," Stefanie narrated. The crowd gasped.
"Er, with the king and the heir apparent dead on the same day, who was in charge of Arendelle then?" Newark posed.
"Queen Alva, Bjørn's widow, was regent, because the two claimants -Prince Jóarr, Bjørn's younger son; and Prince Fastaðr, Hróaldr's son- were still children, aged thirteen and two, respectively. Fastaðr's claim was dismissed because most eyewitnesses said that Prince Hróaldr died before King Bjørn did. The issue eventually became immaterial anyway when little Fastaðr became ill and died before the year was over. Queen Alva ruled Arendelle for eight years until Prince Jóarr turned twenty-one, when she hoped he would be 'old enough to not act like a fool,' to quote the saga. And so, the precedent for our minimum age to be crowned was set," Stefanie recounted.
After another few beats of silence, the visitors laughed nervously again.
"A wise woman," Irene quipped.
"Yes, indeed, ma'am," Stefanie concurred. "Even though she was technically only a consort and regent, she was honored with her own saga, and within a generation came to be counted as a genuine monarch of Arendelle - our first reigning queen. She had done much of the governing even before King Bjørn's death. Like many men here during the Viking era, King Bjørn was rarely home between the spring and autumn equinoxes, and left Queen Alva to run the country, just as the other men left their womenfolk to manage the farms, attend to commerce and industry, and hunt and fish."
"No wonder Arendelle is so advanced and prosperous: With the men out of the way for half the year, I bet the women got a lot accomplished," the Dutch mother joshed. Her husband harrumphed.
After another interlude of silence, the visitors laughed nervously once more.
"I'm sure such a division of labor had its benefits, but if most of the men were away for months, didn't that leave Arendelle vulnerable to an attack?" Newark queried.
"Our borders with Norway were garrisoned, sir. We had several strategic look-outs for approaches from the sea, and there are only a few places along our coastline where a ship can be beached, so taking us by surprise was difficult to do. And once any invaders arrived, they quickly found out that our women and children were not helpless," Stefanie avowed. "As you may have seen in King Egil's tapestry, everyone in Arendelle was prepared to take part in our country's defense. During Queen Alva's regency, there were some marauders from Skåne that thought they would have easy pickings. Instead, they were ambushed with volleys of arrows, large stones, and flaming bedrolls; we enslaved those that survived. When one of the prisoners dared to deride 'the cowardly tactics of a woman,' Queen Alva clouted his buttocks with the flat side of an axe head so hard that he never walked with ease or sat comfortably again. She kept him as a thrall to work in the royal stables."
"Broke his tailbone, then his spirit," Holt commentated, and pumped his fist again.
Beatrice cast a glance over her shoulder at her own posterior, and then looked up at her father. "Do we have tailbones?" she asked with innocent curiosity.
"Um, yes and no. I'll explain later," John deferred. "But we certainly have pelvic bones. Queen Alva possibly fractured one of those, along with his coccyx. That was a mighty spanking."
"Queen Alva was married to King Bjørn for twenty-three years. She was obviously tough, and as a young girl likely had been taught some martial skills by her family. And she probably learned a thing or two from watching Bjørn about how to swing an axe or sword for maximum effectiveness," Stefanie pointed out.
"So the myth of the valkyries and folklore about warrior women among the Vikings have a basis in reality," Newark posited.
"Absolutely!" Anna asserted brightly. "My father taught me swordswomanship." She assumed a classic en garde stance with an imaginary saber and made a passable attacking lunge at nothing. "And my mother taught me archery." The Princess thrust her left arm forward and mimed pulling back a make-believe bowstring and releasing the cord with her right hand. "And I can throw a flaming bedroll, rock pick, and right hook with the best of them." She punched the air with authority and smiled impishly, remembering the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage when she rearranged her ex-fiancé's face. She hoped that the despicable fiend never sneezed or blew his nose comfortably again.
"Um, more like: Yes and no, sir," Stefanie amended with a grin at Anna's high-spiritedness. "While we have a strong tradition of women protecting themselves, their families, and our homeland whenever necessary, female professional warriors were quite rare. The women who fought in the Battle of Sundaleiðr were very much the exception, and probably participated solely to invoke the valkyries. There are only a few tales that mention women being members of raiding parties, and almost all of those involved desperate circumstances in the woman's life rather than simply a bellicose spirit."
"I see. But such activities weren't explicitly prohibited, either culturally or legally?" Newark asked.
"No, sir, not here in Arendelle. Even during the time of many petty kingdoms, our women enjoyed civil rights that were nearly equal with those of our men. Women were taught to read and write in our language and Disnee, could own and inherit property, could hold clan leadership positions if their fathers or brothers left no male heirs, could work outside the home, could borrow money, could keep and bear arms, could testify as witnesses at trials, could speak at assemblies, could conduct certain religious ceremonies, could divorce their husbands at will, and could remarry with impunity," Stefanie related.
The adult women in the tour group all blinked, and some of the more perceptive girls were also impressed. The men exchanged looks of astonishment.
"That's quite progressive, even by today's standards," the Dutch mother said.
"Our general social hierarchy was never as oppressive and rigid as the feudalism in other lands, ma'am. Arendelle simply didn't have the resources to support a large servile class or a proper aristocratic class besides the royal family," Stefanie noted.
"I suppose that means there are no estates outside of town," the Irishman presumed, sounding somewhat disappointed. "No manor houses or chateaus?"
"Well, we have the royal lodge. It's comfortable, but it's pretty plain. It's really just a big cabin," Anna said. "The setting is gorgeous, though."
"The royal lodge needs no other artwork except the views from its windows," Grimsen affirmed, giving the Irishman another hard stare.
"No doubt, sir. I was just wondering if there were any other stately homes in Arendelle that welcome the public. Most of us commoners are kept at arm's length by most nobles, so this kind of hospitality is a novelty for me," the Irishman justified himself.
"Understood, sir," Stefanie assuaged. "But the royal family's other holdings, apart from Queen Elsa's Ice Palace, are utilitarian in nature."
"Boring stuff that no one would want to see. Farms, a few types of mills, crocus processing facilities, warehouses, smokehouses, a foundry, a shipyard, military stations, a bank, mines, forests," Anna supplied.
"Ah, cottage industries," the Irishman joked. Grimsen had to laugh along with everyone else.
"Actually, some of those sound quite interesting," Newark said. "But I suspect no outsider gets anywhere near the crocus processors, the foundry, or the shipyard."
"Or the textile mills, sawmills, and some of the mines, either," Grimsen smirked.
"Trust me, there is nothing super-secret going on," Anna claimed dismissively. She paused, remembering some of the conversation she had with Elsa the night before, and added more cautiously: "I think."
"A resounding endorsement of Arendelle's transparency," Stefanie wisecracked. While everyone else guffawed, Anna tried to glare at the guide, but quickly lost the battle to contain her own laughter.
"Hey, they can see the castle kitchen," Anna said, knowing the tour's itinerary. "That's where the really serious business goes on."
"Do we get any free samples?" the Irishman bantered.
"At the end of the tour, sir," Stefanie disclosed. The visitors shared intrigued looks; the children were all especially excited.
"Maybe we can see them being made," Anna smiled. "Come on!" She strode purposefully toward the double doors. The tour group did not need any further prompting.
It was only a short walk to the kitchen's main entryway. "Please don't touch anything unless the staff gives you permission," Grimsen ordered politely as Holt and Vollan opened the doors to expose a veritable culinary wonderland.
There were multiple cast iron stoves, three large hearths, several sinks, and a plethora of tables, cupboards, counters, carts, racks, and bins. A set of cabinets made from ice lined a wall. A cadre of cooks, assistants, and dishwashers, all wearing aprons and thin gloves made from ice-fabric, bustled diligently at their tasks, but took the time to wave or nod friendly greetings to the company. The guests instinctively sniffed the air, and watched with great curiosity as a short, plump man removed a rectangular, shallow pan containing a deep brown cake from an oven and set it on a rack to cool.
"Oooh, chocolate roulade!" Anna cooed, instantly recognizing the soufflé base. "My favorite!"
"It is for Queen Elsa," the short, plump man responded with a faint Hungarian accent and a surprising sharpness to his tone. "To make amends for yesterday evening." He grabbed a utensil -a cross between a spoon and a spatula- that had obviously been made by his employer, and began creaming softened butter, sugar, and honey together with a vigorousness that conveyed a state of inner agitation.
Anna winced. Naturally, her accomplices in the cake caper would be worried about their futures on the royal payroll. "I talked with her last night, Balász. She's not really angry. It will be okay," Anna consoled him.
"I would still like Her Majesty to be in the best possible mood at the meeting after lunch," Balász contended as he reached for a bowl that held reserved egg yolks, and gradually incorporated them into the butter, sugar, and honey combination.
The chef retrieved two more whole eggs from a nearby basket and cracked them into his project, then fetched a storage canister from a cupboard. He pried off the snug-fitting lid to reveal the red threads of boreal saffron. Balász added a generous crushed pinch of Arendelle's famous spice and mixed well.
"That's food-grade boreal saffron, grown down here in local gardens and flower boxes," Stefanie reported. "It's been used in this butter cookie recipe for centuries."
The dough came together in a lovely golden yellow ball as Balász sifted in flour and a small amount salt, and stirred thoroughly. The spoon-spatula's amazingly flexible, slightly concave, fine-edged head scraped every last bit from the bowl onto a piece of paper with a waxy-looking coating. He wrapped it up tightly and took the bundle over to one of the ice-cabinets. He put it in, and removed a similar one that had been prepared earlier and was now chilled. The chef proceeded to flatten it out evenly by expert application of a rolling pin. Many of the women in the tour group murmured in admiration of his skill.
After a few more passes, the dough was at the desired thinness, and Balász grabbed a crocus-shaped cookie cutter, and pressed out a sequence of cookies with very little waste, gathering the trimmings to free-form a few whimsical figures. A helper carefully arranged the cookies on baking sheets and popped them in another oven. She checked the clock on the wall.
"While I applaud your technique, sir, there isn't even a smidgen to lick out of the bowl or a scrap to filch from the counter. It's too efficient for my taste," the Irishman critiqued. Grimsen rolled his eyes.
"How does the ice-spatula manage to be pliable?" Eliasz questioned.
"While not being floppy?" Waclaw appended.
"The same way that our aprons don't get stained, nothing sticks to the ice-paper, and our gloves protect us from cuts, burns, and dishpan hands without being bulky. It's just magic," announced a cook tending to a series of chickens roasting on a spit in one of the hearths. As a demonstration, he held his gloved hand over the tops of the dancing flames with no ill effect to either his extremity or the ice-fabric. "You'd have to ask Her Majesty how exactly she does it."
The researchers once again shared meaningful looks. "I begin to understand what the master smith meant when he said that Queen Elsa made working in the foundry safer and more comfortable," Newark muttered in a quiet aside. John and Papadopoulos nodded.
"Can I get a spatula like that?" the Dutch mother asked. "Or the gloves?"
"No to the gloves, but yes to the spatula," Stefanie said. "It's available at the Royal Gift Shop."
"We'll probably have some, along with other things, for sale at a booth at the Harvest Festival, too," Anna plugged.
"Why aren't the gloves for sale?" Irene asked in puzzlement.
"Her Majesty deems their properties to be too tempting to misuse or abuse," Grimsen explained.
"We can't even take them home with us; they have to stay in the kitchen," attested the cook tending to the chickens. "Sometimes, we forget to take them off before we leave the room, and they do the same vanishing act as her snow and ice. Poof - they disappear right off our hands."
"Does it feel weird?" Adam asked, eyes wide.
The kitchen staff all chuckled. "Not really. The light and sparkle take us by surprise, but it doesn't tingle. They're just suddenly not there anymore," Balász said.
"How do you get new ones?" the little Dutch boy posed.
"Oh, there's a whole drawer full of them. If we start to run out of someone's size, we simply let Her Majesty know. She stops by and twiddles her fingers. Poof - more appear on the counter," the cook tending to the chickens described.
"Such a useful queen. Does she make ice cream, too?" the Irishman asked facetiously.
"Yup. She may have problems boiling water, but making ice cream is a snap for her," Anna granted in all seriousness. "So are milkshakes, snow cones, and slushies. If the weather isn't too cold, we'll sell some at a booth at the Harvest Festival, too." The tourists blinked in unison.
"Milkshakes? Snow cones? Slushies?" Debora asked, at a loss.
"Oh, right, you aren't from Arendelle. So ... a milkshake is ice cream and milk -or sometimes fruit syrups or coffee or caramel or chocolate sauce- blended together. A snow cone is really fine, powdery snow with a fruit syrup or cream sauce -or both- poured on it. A slushie is when Elsa halfway freezes a fruit syrup, sweet tea, or coffee so that the ice is really small-grained and there's just enough liquid for it to flow through a straw," Anna enlightened. The tourists blinked in unison again.
"Queen Elsa does have a confusing set of powers: Snow blasting, dress making, castle building, sculpting, scientific equipment fabrication, and creating life and frozen refreshments," Homberg said dryly.
"It's really easy to accept the frozen refreshments part," Holt laughed.
"It's been only a little over a year since we've known about her magic, and already it's simply not a proper birthday party without an ice cream cake," Vollan substantiated, grinning broadly.
"Ice cream cake?" Debora asked.
"It's really just cake and ice cream, except the ice cream is layered inside the cake," Anna said. "It looks really elaborate, though, especially when it has multiple layers in each tier."
"Who knew that Arendelle was now also a hotbed -or maybe that should be a deep freezer- of culinary innovation," Sinibaldo jested.
"Makes me want to come back in the summertime," the Dutch father mused.
"Of course," Irene said under her breath. John smothered a smirk.
"I know at least Corona, Spain, and some businessmen from the United States are trying to set up trade deals for snow cone kits and slushie packs," Anna divulged, "but Elsa says she needs to do more research. Not sure about what. But maybe in a year or two everyone will be able to enjoy some cool treats without leaving home." The tourists blinked in unison once more.
"Mundane but very intriguing," Papadopoulos evaluated with a smile.
"Speaking of treats..." Balász said and checked on the cookies in the oven.
Their edges were a perfect golden brown, and so he removed them from the heat, and quickly lifted each one off the hot baking sheet with a steel turner, setting them down on a flat wire grill. The children and many of the adults fidgeted expectantly.
"They must cool completely, otherwise they will fall apart," Balász warned.
"I don't have a problem with that, sir, and won't hold it against you," the Irishman winked.
"Cooling is an integral part of baking," Balász persisted. "If they were better warm, we would serve them to you that way."
"These really are better when they crisp up," Anna said. "And the flavor of the saffron comes through more when they cool off. Please be patient."
The tour group nodded deferentially, but remained focused on the cookies, resolutely refusing to budge. "There's only one person who can make stuff cool off just by looking at it, but she's not here right now," Anna ribbed. Everyone laughed. "Come on, there's more to see."
The Princess skipped over to one of the ice-cabinets, took out two bunches of carrots, and used them to gleefully beckon the visitors to follow her.
Author's Notes - The duties of Real Life are such a bother, but hopefully I have a lot of them beaten back again.
The indemnity mumbo-jumbo is lifted from an actual Disney liability waiver form (for an activity that is much more risky than sock sliding). I imagine Elsa to be on-guard against lawsuits. Recall the Duke of Weselton's parting appearance: "I've been traumatized. Ow! My neck hurts. Is there a doctor I could... No?" The researchers will get another reminder before and during the magic lab.
Elsa's speed and endurance will be discussed more later. Her however-many meter dash over the fjord (in clothes not conducive to sprinting) is amazing, and reaching the North Mountain before sunrise (in a Scandinavian summer) through the terrain she obviously had to cross is superhuman. Just setting up for the final chase scene in the mountains.
Arendelle's Battle of Sundaleiðr is based on the "real legend" of the Battle of Brávellir, in which Harald Wartooth (yes, really!) feared he might die of old age and therefore not make it to Valhalla, so he asked his subordinates to stage a battle for him to die in. It's all there in Wikipedia. Just setting up the final battle so that there will be some anxiety (at least from the characters' point of view) that Elsa is going to slay "friend" and "foe" alike when her fury is upon her, that Elsa has become a "force of nature" that destroys indiscriminantly. When the white horse is charging toward the "fiery" red horse, the black horse, and the khloros (zombie) horse, there is going to be enough "end of the world" symbols from many belief systems to make everyone genuinely afraid that there will not be a happy ending.
Arendelle's civil rights for women are based on many of the rights that Viking women did enjoy.
Elsa's power to make frozen refreshments is one part obvious "Mundane Ability" and one part shout-out to her cameo in "Ralph Breaks the Internet," in which she casually conjures a milkshake-looking beverage for herself. Non-canon, of course, and probably a tip-of-the-hat to Idina Menzel's joke that Elsa could make soy ice cream to feed herself after she ran away from civilization. My version of Elsa can make water-ice that has the consistency and color of a milkshake, but lacks the protein, fat, sugars, minerals, vitamins, etc. of milk. She can manipulate the naturally occurring water that's in milk, fruit/vegetables, meat (scary!), etc, but she can't create any chemical compound except for good-old H2O.
Homberg's "confusing set of powers" comment is a shout-out to Screen Junkies' Totally Honest Trailer for "Frozen."
Next stop: Royal Stables!
