40. Stable Personalities

After bidding farewell to the kitchen staff -and casting one last look of longing at the crocus cookies- the tourists were ushered to one of the castle's service entrances. The finishes of the surfaces in the hallway and the threshold were less elegant and more durable than what was seen in the rest of the castle. Centuries worth of comings and goings had worn down the middle of the stone doorstep, and the paint on the door jamb was not nearly as immaculate as it was on the others they had passed through. This was clearly a place where the royal residence rolled up its sleeves and got to work.

The guard stationed outside on the portico next to the doors nodded attentively to the group as they passed by his post. Stefanie paused, held her hand out from under the porch's roof in order to gauge the precipitation, and peered at the clouds.

"I think we'll be fine if we don't dawdle," the guide decided. "The cobblestones are wet, so please mind your footing." She offered a supportive arm to one of the elderly guests as they navigated the steps down to the courtyard. The rest of the Arendellians did the same for the other customers who might be unsteady on the damp pavers.

Although the cold rain was so light at the moment that it was more akin to a dense mist, the wind had a fierce bite, so the group had enough incentive to hurry to the shelter of a covered walkway that rimmed the courtyard's outer bulwark. They passed a path that lead to a park-like area with grass, bushes, trees, a few boulders, and a small pond.

"Normally, you'd get to see our garden up close, but even the geese are battened down today," Anna said and waved to her old avian friends who were squatting in the lee of a bush near the edge of the pond. The birds honked in recognition, but didn't move from their refuge.

"It's surprising that they haven't migrated yet," Homberg remarked.

"Soon," Anna sighed. "Late October or early November. We make sure to put out plenty of food for them during these last few weeks, so they'll be really strong for the journey. I wish they wouldn't go, though. When I was a little girl, I tried to convince them that they could stay in one of the stalls during the winter, and we would take good care of them and let them out to wander free whenever they wanted, but they still flew away."

"You can talk to animals?" Adam asked in awe.

"Of course she can. She's a princess," Beatrice told her brother with a touch of condescension. Many of the adults, including the guards, failed to suppress snorts of laughter.

John gently tapped his daughter's shoulder to get her attention. "Have care with your tone, Miss Scurr," the doctor quietly rebuked. Beatrice nodded, abashed.

"Actually, I don't really have a special ability to talk to animals," Anna admitted. "I mean, I love them, and I can usually make friends with them pretty easily, and sometimes I think they understand what I'm saying, but that seems to depend more on the animal and the situation than anything else. For instance, my horse dumped me and ran off the moment he got startled by a tree branch snapping, and wouldn't come back even though I asked him to. And there have been so many creatures that do not cooperate when I'm trying to help them get out of trouble." That included her own sister, who certainly could not claim the excuse of not comprehending human speech.

"Animals' natural instincts are a very powerful force, Your Highness," Homberg said. "It's very easy for them to misinterpret attempts to help them as acts of aggression. Self-preservation behaviors are very difficult, if not impossible, to resist, no matter what kind of animal we're talking about, and that includes humans."

A sudden gust of wind swirled through the courtyard, and Anna shivered slightly. The naturalist's words hit too close to her own private thoughts and part of the previous night's conversation with Elsa. "So I've gathered, but it's still frustrating. I wish they could all be as smart and well-adjusted as Sven," she brooded. Of course, Sven had the benefit of first being hand-raised by Kristoff and then growing up among the trolls, who probably could truly communicate with animals, as opposed to being left to fend for himself in an uncaring world, or being caged and treated like a dangerous beast for most of his life. She shivered again, this time more conspicuously.

"You probably should have stopped to get a coat or cloak, Your Highness. It's a little cold for just a blouse and vest," Homberg noted with concern.

"This is nothing," Anna said a tad too dismissively.

Grimsen unbuttoned his uniform jacket, slipped it off, and held it out to Anna. "Here. Put this on, Princess," the captain offered.

"I'll be fine," Anna maintained.

"Please humor Old Grim-Face, Princess," Grimsen coaxed.

"Yes, please humor us, Your Highness," John seconded. The rest of the group, locals and foreigners alike, expressed their backing of the suggestion.

"We don't have that much farther to go, and Kris- the Ice Master usually keeps an extra pullover or two in Sven's stall, so I can put one of those on ... if I feel cold," Anna countered.

"The rare strawberry-headed princess, although gregarious and savvy within the setting of her species' native climate, can be stubbornly uncooperative once the temperature drops," Homberg lectured wryly, giving a tongue-in-cheek natural history exposition.

Anna pursed her lips and focused on the paddock up ahead. Grimsen gave Homberg a hard stare before bursting into laughter, with the rest of the group, locals and foreigners alike, quickly joining in.

"Okay, sure, whatever," Anna said curtly, decidedly not amused at being likened -deservedly or not- to a recalcitrant gosling. She took the guard's jacket, juggled the carrots, and shoved her arms through the sleeves. It was too big for her ... but it did block the wind and was still warm from Old Grim-Face's body heat. "But now you're cold."

"I have on a nice bottom layer, ma'am," Grimsen replied. "Once we reach the stable, I'll take the jacket back, and you can wear the Ice Master's spare sweater."

"I knew that you really do have a soft spot for her, Captain," the Irishman indicted blithely.

"She's not so bad, once you get used to her quirks," Grimsen teased, eliciting a trace of a smile from Anna.

Stefanie lead her charges to the right of the grassy corral and stopped at a row of gaily-painted Dutch doors. "Please don't make any loud noises or sudden movements," the guide requested. "They are probably napping." She knocked softly on one of the doors. "Sven? Are you awake? You have company."

There was no response. Stefanie raised her hand to knock again, but Anna silently checked her. The Princess singled out a carrot, placed its tip firmly between her molars, and broke off the skinny end. The action was barely audible to the human ears on the outside of the doors, but it must have reverberated like a dinner gong for the quadrupeds within the stalls, because the reindeer and the horses all immediately pushed their top doors open with their alert, eager heads.

"Gets 'em every time," Anna chortled. She held the carrot tip out for Sven, who chomped it down with gusto and a grateful waggle of his ears, and gave the stem end to her own mount, Geisli. She distributed the remainder of the carrots to the tourists, who took great delight in feeding the sturdy, amiable steeds.

Anna took the opportunity to rummage through Sven's stall in search of Kristoff's outerwear. She found a woolen pullover, and gave Grimsen his jacket back. She donned the fur-trimmed sweater, which was hopelessly too large for her, but at least it was clean. The tour group politely refrained from openly giggling at the comical figure she made, with the shoulders of the sweater nearly coming down to her elbows and the hem of the waist falling well below her hips.

"Princess Anna, this horse didn't come out," the little Dutch boy said and pointed to the door next to Sven.

"Yeah, and that's okay," Anna answered very quickly.

"Yeah, that's okay. Don't worry about him," Stefanie urged and very quickly shooed the boy away from the door.

"It's really okay," Grimsen very quickly agreed and maneuvered himself between the guests and the door.

"Totally okay," Vollan very quickly corroborated.

"Absolutely okay," Holt very quickly concurred. The two subordinate guards joined their commander in front of the closed door.

"Is he sick?" the little Dutch boy asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No, but he prefers to be left alone," Anna explained.

"Probably nothing to see," Debora chimed in, fully understanding the locals' reluctance to interact with the stall's occupant.

"Let's listen to our hosts," Homberg advocated.

"Yes, it is surely very wise," Papadopoulos put forward.

"Undoubtedly, they know what they're talking about," Irene endorsed. John, Zlata, Adam, and Beatrice all nodded earnestly.

Eliasz, Waclaw, Sinibaldo, and Newark looked inquisitively at their fellows, who nodded even more earnestly. Eliasz, Waclaw, Sinibaldo, and Newark exchanged suspicious glances, and the rest of the tourists murmured skeptically.

"But he didn't get a treat," the little Dutch boy protested.

"He doesn't like carrots," Anna said flatly. Suddenly, bringing snacks for the denizens of the stable seemed like a huge mistake. "He's fine. He'll get something else later."

"Whatcha hiding in there? A tiger?" the Irishman wisecracked.

"A unicorn, perhaps?" Newark jibed.

The upper stall door finally swung open. The Arendellians all cringed. The guards hastily moved away and pushed the tour group back.

"I am far superior to a unicorn," Sleipnir whispered and stretched his long, muscular neck and exquisitely sculpted head out over the bottom half of the door.

The tour group, even the ones who had already encountered the snow-horse on Monday, all jumped and made sounds of surprise and alarm. The flesh-and-blood horses all flinched and withdrew their heads back inside their stalls. Only Sven happily flapped his ears in a greeting.

"Hello, Sven. Nice weather today," Sleipnir said in his undertone. The reindeer bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

"T-t-talking h-h-horse," Newark stuttered.

Sleipnir deftly opened his stall's lower door with his mouth, and stepped out into full view. "Snow-horse," he corrected disdainfully, showing off his magnificent physique and towering height. His icy hooves gave the impression of being harder than steel. His sky-blue eyes took everyone's measure, and clearly found everyone wanting.

"Oh, crocus petals," Anna muttered, using an old Arendellian euphemism. Every child instinctively hid behind the nearest adult, relative or not. Many of the adult tourists looked ready to bolt off. She knew that she herself did not feel or appear confident right now. Even the guards were intimidated. This was turning into the worst-case scenario. The snow-horse had never hurt anyone, and Anna doubted he ever would unless he was attacked first, but the visitors could injure themselves in their panic. Suddenly, that liability waiver seemed like a bright idea - although she was determined to keep it from being called into play. "Sleipnir, these people are guests. Queen Elsa wants them to enjoy their tour," Anna invoked his creator's wishes in hope of persuading the snow-horse to conduct himself courteously or go back in his stall.

The snow-horse scrutinized her with those sky-blue eyes that were so eerily like Elsa's. As unsettling as it was, at least she had managed to draw his attention away from the rest of the crowd. "Why are you wearing a tent, Princess?" Sleipnir hissed.

"It's a sweater. It's just the wrong size," Anna said simply, trying not to give him any openings.

"It looks like the one Sven's human wears. Is she allowed to use it, Sven?" Sleipnir asked softly.

Sven indicated the affirmative and smiled fondly at Anna.

"Very well, then. Although it should probably be laundered before you let your human have it back," Sleipnir counseled. "There's no telling how dirty she'll get it." With that, he turned nimbly and stepped back into his stall, adroitly closing the bottom door, but slamming the top one shut.

Anna exhaled in relief while Stefanie and the guards herded the tour group well away, and Sven fluttered his ears and lowed a goodbye. But now that the meeting was over and the guests had some space and barriers between themselves and the snow-horse, their initial shock and trepidation were replaced by mesmerized amazement.

"I'll wager anything that he is Queen Elsa's white palfrey," the Irishman deadpanned after a few moments of silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for any distress he might have caused you; he's not supposed to be part of the tour," Stefanie said contritely.

"He's not dangerous," Anna emphasized. "But he can be a jer- But he doesn't like to socialize, so we do our best to respect his wishes. Even regular horses can be temperamental." She almost could not believe she was standing up for the snow-horse in public, but her own protective instincts were triggered by her theory that Sleipnir and his misanthropic attitude were born out of Elsa's repressed, all-too justifiable pain and anger.

"That they can," Homberg granted. "As can other animals, including humans."

Anna wondered if the naturalist or the other researchers already had a similar hunch about the snow-horse's genesis, and became apprehensive that the guests would start asking questions about Sleipnir's origin. Being evasive was not her forte, especially not on the spur of the moment, and even more especially not when up against analytical, worldly interrogators, and still more especially not when she might have something to feel a tiny bit guilty about. So her mind looked for a way to quickly steer the visitors' interest in a new direction. She had learned the tactical value of a good distraction from watching her sister.

Fortunately, an idea was literally staring her in the face. The Princess gathered the excesses of the ill-fitting sweater and trundled over to a set of very wide, top-hung sliding doors. "Well, we can get back to dull, reliable inanimate objects," she grinned as she pulled the heavy doors open with a squeak of rollers and thuds against the stoppers to reveal an array of carriages and, further back in the room, a small fleet of clinker-built dinghies on trailers or in cradles.

Everyone's eyes were drawn to an enclosed four-seater coach, painted purple and green and trimmed in gold, with glass windows and a golden crocus emblazoned on its dashboard. It was in pristine condition, as though it had barely been used.

"The royal coach," Stefanie stated the obvious.

Anna smiled mischievously. Out of modesty, Stefanie usually glossed over this part of the tour, but Anna had no qualms about sharing a few little details and embarrassing her friend in a good way. It was time to get even for the occasions when Stefanie razzed her for not introducing herself as "the Princess."

"Built by Miss Rask's grandfather and great-uncles. It was one of the first carriages to use steel springs in the suspension; they developed it themselves," Anna disclosed cheerfully. Stefanie rolled her eyes; the guards laughed behind their hands. The visitors all looked from the coach to the guide.

"As you can see, it's more of a boondoggle status symbol than a practical necessity," Stefanie deflected. "In fact, it's too wide for many of Arendelle's roads, even here in town."

"We usually just ride horseback or use wagons like these," Anna said and gestured to a quartet of wains, which were of a much narrower breadth and more low-set than the coach. "They convert to sleighs with just a few simple tools. Just attach the runners and pop the wheels off. Also built by Miss Rask's family. Her great-great-grandfather came up with the design." The visitors all looked from the wagons to the guide.

"It took a lot of trial and error," Stefanie shrugged.

"You never mentioned yesterday that you are from an illustrious Arendellian family, Miss Rask," Zlata archly commented.

"Or that your family is involved with engineering and inventing," Waclaw added.

"They adapted most of the fittings and mechanisms from preexisting devices. We're really just artisans," Stefanie insisted sheepishly.

"With a fantastic reputation. If you want a top-quality product, you go to the Rasks. Favored by the royal family and the official Ice Master and Deliverer!" Anna said, doing her best impersonation of an extremely enthusiastic salesperson.

Stefanie rolled her eyes again. "You're a great repeat customer, Your Highness. We can count on you to drop a sled off a cliff every year, and then just flash the cash and buy a new one," the guide riposted dryly. The guards laughed behind their hands again. The visitors all looked from the wagons to the Princess.

"Hey, I had nothing to do with the last time!" Anna laughingly objected. "Elsa just sent me to pick out another one for Kristoff, because he'd always choose the basic model, even if we tell him he can get whichever one he wants."

"That's because he knows it will only end up engulfed in flames at the bottom of a ravine before too long, Princess, so why waste all that hard work?" Stefanie retorted. "Do you know how long it takes to make a reclining driver's seat or a stowaway back seat?" The guide walked over to Kristoff's latest replacement wagon/sled, and demonstrated how the front seat's backrest tilted with the pull of a lever near the floorboard, and how the rear bench neatly folded down to provide more cargo area.

"Oooh, and it has a cup holder, too!" the Irishman noticed.

"That's some precision joinery there," the Dutch father appraised. Eliasz, Waclaw, Zlata, Sinibaldo, Newark, and Homberg nodded in agreement.

"Well, yes, that's because humans can definitely be temperamental, and we don't want a bunch of burly ice harvesters, miners, lumberjacks, and farmers armed with picks, axes, and pitchforks knocking on our doors because the bottom fell out of their wagons," Stefanie said drolly.

"Self-preservation is definitely powerful motivation," Homberg reiterated with a chuckle.

Even though the pronouncement was meant as light-hearted banter, it again reminded Anna far too much of Elsa's allegation that curing a shot of ice-magic to the heart was nearly impossible, and she fidgeted awkwardly with the sweater. Love was more powerful, had to be more powerful. Love always triumphed. There had to be something that said so. She suddenly knew who she should talk with ... but probably not with a gaggle of tourists in tow. Unfortunately, one of the places where he could often be found was the next stop on their route, so she would have to check back alone later.

"Joking aside, the real reason her family makes the extra effort is because they care about other people. They know their customers' livelihoods -and lives- depend on their craftsmanship," Anna said with a seriousness that surprised herself. "Kris- the Ice Master has told me what can happen in the backcountry if you have an equipment failure. Everyone trusts the Rasks to build each wagon as though their own family is going to use it."

"You can stop sounding like an advertisement now, Princess," Stefanie blushed. The guide tugged the sliding doors shut as though to ensure her friend ceased extolling her family's business. "Almost everybody has the same work ethic."

"Evidently, you have never shopped in Weselton, young lady," the Dutch mother quipped. The guards, adult tourists, and even a few children snickered.

"Neither one of them has set foot outside of Arendelle," Grimsen smirked and thumbed at Stefanie and Anna, who both crossed their arms over their chests in annoyance.

"Well, one day it will be 'Look out, world,' " Anna declared.

"And I hope to be safely retired when the time comes, Your Highness, because I do not want to be part of your security squad," Grimsen riposted.

"Good, because I wouldn't want a wet blanket like you following me around," Anna laughed.

"Heaven help the fellows who get saddled with that job," Grimsen said and eyed Vollan and Holt. The lieutenant and sergeant pretended to not hear the captain's words and instead be very interested in the collars and cuffs of their uniforms.

"Let's go say a prayer for them at the Royal Chapel," Stefanie proposed with a smile and pointed toward a building in the courtyard close to the castle.

The drizzle was more perceptible now, on the verge of becoming proper rain, and so they hastened to the church's main doors. They wiped their shoes on a simple mat of braided coarse rope before entering.

The tour group stood in the center aisle of the nave and marveled at the interior. Like the castle, it managed to be richly detailed without being gaudy, and the materials and workmanship were of the highest class. The lack of gold and overtly religious decorations somehow enhanced the serenity and sincerity of the space. There was nothing pretentious to contradict the spiritual message, nothing strident to make anyone feel unwelcome.

"I bet this place is even lovelier on a sunny day," Debora said as she absorbed the stained-glass windows that lined the walls.

"It is," came a voice from the choir balcony at the front of the chapel. They looked up to see a man dusting the railing of the loft; his ecclesiastical vestment identified him as a member of the clergy. "Although stormy days highlight the beauty of a solid, well-designed roof." He gesticulated to the curved timbers that vaulted above their heads.

"Almost looks like an inverted ship's frame," Eliasz observed.

"That's not too far off, sir. Many shipwrights worked on the construction of the chapel," Stefanie elucidated.

"Perfectly sensible if you think about it. What makes a for a sound, dry boat would also make for a sound, dry building," Newark reasoned.

"Quite so, sir. Finding different ways to apply our talents is something of a tradition here in Arendelle," the cleric said and disappeared down a staircase or ladder at one end of the upper gallery. He re-emerged a moment later from behind the screen to the rear of the altar. "And it's comforting to think that this place just might float if it ever gets swept off its foundation and turned upside down."

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Bishop Strand," Stefanie presented.

"Welcome to the Royal Chapel. I'm glad you've braved the weather to stop in," the Bishop said. The visitors murmured their reciprocal greetings as the Bishop smiled warmly and made eye contact with each of the guests, and nodded to Papadopoulos, who responded likewise.

"Will you be here later on today, Right Reverend?" Papadopoulos inquired. "I'd like to chat with you after the tour is over, if you're so inclined."

"I'll have the tea ready, Father," Strand invited. "If I'm not out here, you can find me in the office on the left in the hallway behind the screen."

"Watch out, people: They've joined forces," the Irishman waggishly warned.

"Positively no arguing or complaining now."

"Not necessarily, sir. If there's a difficulty, it is usually far better to address it than to keep silent," the Bishop gently gainsaid.

"Amen," Anna said to herself, but in the stillness and acoustics of the chapel, her voice carried farther than she anticipated. Many sets of eyes stared at her, and she squirmed slightly.

"I do believe Her Highness has enough experience to say so," Papadopoulos vouched.

"True enough," Grimsen allowed, and gave Anna an reassuring look.

"And on the other hand, complaining or quarreling about insignificant things, or seeing problems when there really are none, or enjoying fighting and complaining for their own sake far too much are ordinary human frailties, and sometimes we simply need someone to help us see things from another perspective and break free from unhappy patterns," the Bishop edified.

Anna felt particularly hopeful that the Bishop would provide her with the information she needed to prove that Elsa underestimated the power of love, or at least would point her in the right direction. Father Papadopoulos could maybe add something of value, as well; even though his denomination probably had a few different teachings, he seemed to be optimistic, wise, and open-minded.

"I would say that you'll make it all the way to Pope one day, Right Reverend, but as you're not Roman Catholic, I guess that would be a little hard," the Irishman reckoned. He scanned the area by the altar and the stained-glass windows once more. "I don't mean to pry, but are you even Christian? Because I don't see any crosses or biblical scenes in here."

"I myself am a Christian," the Bishop professed. "As are most Arendellians, at least of some stripe. But since our monarchs have given us freedom of religion for centuries, the Royal Chapel is deliberately kept neutral, and those of us who officiate here wear the crocus insignia, so that all citizens and guests of any or no faith may feel included and at ease within these walls. We have a Christian church with the usual symbols just up the hill around the bend from town, as do many of our other larger communities. We also have a small synagogue. And a few pagan rites still linger on in some of our national celebrations and private practices."

Once more, amazement coursed through the majority of the tourists. "That's extremely tolerant," the Dutch mother approved.

"There are limits, though, ma'am. We don't permit anything for the sake of religious beliefs that would be a crime in secular circumstances. The right ends when it begins to infringe on other people's rights. That goes for all of us, regardless of creed or social standing," Grimsen expounded.

"Even Queen Elsa?" the little Dutch boy queried.

"Well, technically, yes, even Queen Elsa, unless she revokes the right or alters it. But she would never do that. I know for sure that she wants it to be in our constitution, so that no one, not even the next king or queen, can take it away," Anna stated.

"Er, Arendelle is an absolute monarchy, Your Highness; you don't have a constitution," Sinibaldo pointed out.

"But we will. It's something Elsa is working on," Anna said offhandedly.

Yet again, amazement undulated through the majority of the tourists. "You mean that the Queen is working on relinquishing power?" Sinibaldo asked incredulously.

"Well, it's not as simple as you think. When she first told me that Arendelle should have a written constitution, I said that she would bang it out in less than two weeks, at the rate she works. But then she said that it would be weird to set up a framework for democracy without giving the people any say in the matter, especially since the people actually ratified her as Queen, and that she would probably overlook some important issues because, you know, she didn't get out much as a kid. So she's getting input from public debates and referendums, the council, the lawspeakers, and some diplomats and trade partners whose countries already have constitutions, but, wow, there are a lot of people who enjoy fighting and complaining for their own sake, so it's taking a long time and a lot of effort," Anna rambled.

"I wasn't so much astounded that such a thing would be a difficult, time-consuming process, Your Highness, but rather that someone with absolute power would voluntarily give it up. Even more so because of Her Majesty's other powers," Sinibaldo clarified. The rest of the tourists murmured in agreement.

"Yeah, well, my sister isn't as obsessed with power as some people," Anna said somewhat defensively.

"Her Majesty obviously has a very different individual experience with power, and so her point of view is correspondingly different," the Bishop said much more diplomatically.

"Queen Elsa wants to safeguard Arendelle and its citizens. She realized how vulnerable we were when a certain princess could leave a foreign prince that she had spoken with for all of roughly three hours in charge of the kingdom, and everybody just went along with her," Grimsen related.

"I am never going to live that down, am I?" Anna groaned.

"Nope," Stefanie promised impishly.

"But you're not the only one who should be embarrassed about that little episode, Your Highness," Grimsen consoled her. "Which is why Queen Elsa wants to balance the citizens' bill of rights with a citizens' bill of responsibilities ... which is why there is so much arguing."

"She shoulda written a constitution by herself, and just forced it on the country, and then adjusted it if a problem came up, democratic principles be hanged," Holt grumbled.

"See? We can't even agree whether we should follow democratic procedures in order to institute democratic procedures," Vollan said as a wry aside to the visitors.

"Oooh, that's like the conundrum about whether the chicken or the egg came first!" the Irishman remarked.

"The mind boggles," Sinibaldo chuckled.

"Nonetheless, nearly all of us agree that clearly codifying our laws and rights is necessary. We're confident that we will have a well thought-out constitution in the near future," the Bishop asserted.

"With Queen Elsa managing things, I have no doubt that you will," Newark said. "The world is watching with great interest; whatever Arendelle comes up with will be studied by many people involved with governing and political theory."

"No pressure there," the Irishman kidded.

"I'm fairly sure Her Majesty was well aware of that prospect before she got started. All of the trailblazing that she's been doing on the economic, technological, social, and political fronts -to say nothing of her magic- has certainly grabbed the attention of the Great Powers," Newark reported.

"Elsa often says that she likes big projects," Anna disclosed.

"She must, Your Highness. Arendelle was already quite advanced and prosperous, but it's plain that Queen Elsa intends to set even higher standards. She's the hardest working leader that anybody knows of, at least in the developed world," Newark commended.

"Fulfilling her part of the social contract is something Her Majesty takes very seriously. She has cared deeply about the people of Arendelle since she was a young child," attested the Bishop.

"If I may be so bold, Right Reverend, I'd like to know your standpoint on the Snow Queen's powers," Newark probed, "although I fully understand if you don't want to discuss it in public with strangers."

"My diocese doesn't have an official position, sir, nor do most of the other religious organizations here in Arendelle. However, I am happy to share my personal view of Her Majesty's powers: I believe that they are a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God," the Bishop pronounced.

"Thank you, Right Reverend. I'm certain that you've given your opinion considerable thought and haven't felt coerced to say that," Newark trawled.

"Of course not, sir. Queen Elsa herself strongly disagrees with me. But for many years, I've thought that she and her powers are ... something special," the Bishop said.

"So you knew about Her Majesty's powers before the Eternal Winter," Newark inferred.

"I found out about them the day she was baptized. She froze the water I poured on her head, and then lightly frosted over the blanket her mother wrapped her in. But at least she didn't cry or flail, unlike so many others," the Bishop recalled with a chuckle.

"How could nobody else spot that?" John spurted.

"It was a very unusual royal christening, sir. An unannounced 'emergency service' late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. The populace was busy getting ready for the next day. The only attendees were family members and a few castle employees," the Bishop recounted patiently.

"We arranged it in order to minimize the risk of exposing the newborn's ... capabilities, because nobody knew why or how she was making snow and frost out of thin air and freezing natural water, or if her power to do so would eventually disappear; there was no need to cause a stir if she would ... outgrow the phase in due time," Grimsen defended. "But we also didn't know how long she would survive if her ... difference continued. She was ... colder than normal, and although it didn't seem to bother her, there was a real fear that her body couldn't endure it, so having her baptized as soon as possible was genuinely a top priority for the royal family."

"Elsa turned out to be ridiculously healthy and hardy, in case you were wondering. I was the sickly, fussy baby," Anna chipped in.

There was a moment of silence as the tourists, especially the researchers, assimilated the information.

"How did everybody handle it when you saw Her Majesty's powers, Right Reverend, if I may be so bold once more?" Newark angled.

"King Amund, Queen Heimlaug, Prince Agnarr, and Princess Iduna -as they still were then- along with a few guards and the royal physician were very tense. At first, I didn't quite believe or comprehend what I had seen; I had been told only that there was a 'problem' with the new Princess, and I was expecting an unwell and weak infant, not a magical one," Strand admitted. "The royal family wanted to wait and see how Her Majesty developed before making any long-term judgments, and it was easy enough for me to accept her and agree to keep the secret. I thought of the special child whose birth we would be commemorating the next day. I asked myself if I wanted to be like one of the Wise Men who welcomed Him into the world and declined to betray His location to those who wished to do Him harm, or if I wanted to be like Herod who instigated a slaughter of innocents."

There was another moment of silence as all of the tour group reflected on the Bishop's words. Anna felt even more heartened that talking with the cleric would be productive.

"Through the centuries, Arendelle had never had large-scale civil violence, systemic persecution of any group of citizens, or an assassination attempt on a member of the royal family. Those of us who knew early on about the magic were committed to keeping it that way," Grimsen upheld.

"Can't fault you there, Captain," Newark said sincerely. "I see that Queen Elsa's enlightened approaches to both ruling and being magical are not simply a fortunate happenstance, but rather a natural consequence of your local overall culture and your royal family's philosophy. The world would be a much better place if every country had values and leadership like that."

"Give it time, sir. The road is long and hard, and requires a fair amount of steering," the Bishop humbly reminded. "Everyone takes wrong turns, and meets with obstacles and steep, slippery gradients."

"Very true, Right Reverend," Newark conceded. "Speaking of roads, Miss Rask referred to the 'Branching Paths' primer earlier in the tour, and I presume there is an allegorical narrative involved."

"Indeed, sir. Such things were fashionable back in the day," Strand smiled. "Bishop Bredahl used the metaphor of a journey with many forks in the road to analyze our history and stress the importance of making the right decisions and following good examples to young readers."

"Sounds interesting," Newark said.

"As an adult, you may find it more quaintly amusing than educational," the Bishop cautioned with a wink, "although some of the insights are surprisingly sophisticated. There are Disnee translation editions at the university's library, and there should be one or two copies for loan amongst the pews here, and some in the town's church and synagogue."

"Thank you. It's already been added to my reading list," Newark affirmed.

"The parts that parody 'The Pilgrim's Progress' are the best," Holt tipped. Newark chuckled softly.

"Please feel free to talk with me if you have any questions," the Bishop bade. "While the Disnee translation is quite adequate for the most part, there are a few events from our history and allusions to our folklore that will probably be puzzling to a foreigner."

"Much obliged, Right Reverend," Newark said with a slight bow to Bishop. "On Monday morning I might have derided the notion that Arendelle's history had any real depth to it, but now I'm convinced it's worth studying."

"We've worked very hard to earn our reputation as a dull, irrelevant speck on the map," Strand insisted with a self-effacing smile. The native Arendellians all laughed heartily, and the visitors all joined in.

"We just sit back and let everyone else provide the excitement," Vollan jested.

"Yeah, it was really nice not to have any Thirty Years' Wars, Hundred Years' Wars, Nine Years' Wars, or Eighty Years' Wars to keep straight in our own history lessons. I mean, with the rest of Europe, it's like as soon as one war stopped, another one started, and they all just blur together. What is up with that?" Anna good-naturedly poked fun.

Newark held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I must plead that I am not, to date, king of Myrcia," he rejoined playfully. "Nor, do I think, are any of our friends here in control of their homelands. Even in the representative democracies, the best anybody can do is vote for the least offensive candidate who happens to be running for office during a given election - and hope that our choices win and actually do what they pledged to do during their campaigns."

"Sounds sooo superior to what we have right now," Holt said sarcastically.

"We have separation of church and state here, young man. Please try to leave the politics on the other side of the door," the Bishop scolded lightheartedly.

"Don't make him give you a sermon," Vollan jokingly reprimanded as he elbowed the sergeant.

"No arguing or complaining!" the Irishman exhorted, and gave the two junior guards a hard stare.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, let's leave before a homily breaks out," Stefanie suggested with a laugh. "The crocus cookies should be cooled off by now, so if you would please follow me back to the castle, we can wrap up the tour in the main dining hall."

At the mention of the cookies, the visitors perked up. "Gets 'em every time," the Bishop chortled. "You are all welcome to come back any time. The door is always open, even when tours aren't running."

The guests all deferentially bobbed their heads at the Bishop and filed outside. The rain was now coming down in big, slow-moving drops, and they quickly trotted to the nearest set of steps that lead up to the castle's covered terrace.

"We'll need to get the umbrellas, ponchos, and galoshes ready for the one o'clock tour group," Grimsen told his assistants as everybody wiped his or her feet yet again before reentering the front foyer where the tour had begun. They all gathered around the fire for a few minutes in companionable silence, taking turns in the front row.

"This way to the refreshments," Stefanie directed once everyone seemed to be pleasantly warmed, and lead them back out into the corridor toward the spiral staircase lobby.

Kai and a few other castle employees had made decent progress with separating the heap of armor; Olaf was still perambulating in vicinity, searching through the furnishings.

"Hey, Olaf, we're going to have cookies in the dining hall. Want to come along?" Anna called out when she saw the snowman. He didn't eat in the usual sense, but he enjoyed being around humans when they ate.

"Nope. I'm still looking for that lizard. I thought I had it cornered by the armor, but I lost track of it when I stopped to hug everyone," Olaf said, his head low to the ground to look beneath a breakfront.

"Lizard...?" asked Anna, the proverbial light beginning to dawn on the identity of the culprit behind her unwanted early morning reveille.

"Lizard?" asked a maid who stood in the middle of several pieces of armor which would be fine shelters for a little, scaly interloper. She carefully stepped away in case the animal decided to jump out.

"Yeah, it got away last night during dinner," Olaf imparted. "We tried to catch it, but it scurried under the sideboard." He opened a drawer and inspected the interior for any sign of a reptilian lodger.

"And how did a lizard get into the castle, Olaf?" Kai asked evenly.

"Halvard brought it to show the guests," Olaf said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Vollan pinched the bridge of his nose. The other Arendellians swiveled to face the lieutenant. The tour group found themselves automatically doing the same, intuiting that this Halvard was related to him. The Irishman really got into the spirit of it by placing his hands on his hips in mock anger. Grimsen gave him another hard stare, and the Irishman smiled apologetically and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Olaf told us some crickets got loose, too," Irene divulged. Adam and Beatrice smiled in merry recollection.

"Crickets?" Kai queried serenely as the last clue was uncovered.

"But we got them all back," Olaf said, his voice muted because he had his head inside a cabinet. His snow flurry tried its best to fit in, too, but there was room for only half of the cloud.

"I'm fairly sure you missed at least one," Kai deduced with a stifled laugh.

"Lieutenant, we need to sit down with your son and review the list of items that are inappropriate for show-and-tell at the castle," Grimsen demanded dryly.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Vollan concurred with a weary sigh. "And perhaps Halvard needs to forgo some playtime so that he can apprehend his wee creatures before the castle turns into a zoo."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm on the job. I'll find them in no time," Olaf pledged.

"There are a lot of great hiding spots for small animals in here, Olaf. It will probably take you longer than you think if you work by yourself," Homberg advised. With so many children in the room, the naturalist didn't want to bring up the delicate subject of life spans for insects, and explain that "the circle of life" would very likely end the cricket's stay on the premises long before it could be evicted.

"Then I'll ask the Snowgies to come help out," Olaf proposed. Sometimes he and Sven went to visit his snow-siblings at the Ice Palace when the reindeer wasn't busy helping Kristoff.

"No!" all of the Arendellians present shouted in unison. A lizard and a few crickets roaming the castle were inconsequential; an infestation of the Snow Queen's living sneezes, however, was not something to take lightly.

Olaf winced, and his friendly smile melted into a slightly pained expression. All of the guests, adults and children alike, glowered accusingly at the natives for upsetting the little snowman.

Anna knelt down next Olaf and wrapped an arm around his torso. "We're sorry. We shouldn't have raised our voices," she soothed. "But you know the rules. The Snowgies can come to town only if Elsa gives permission." Because Elsa was the only person the armless mischief-makers would unfailingly obey.

"But some of the staff can join in the hunt, Olaf. You'll have plenty of people to keep you company," Kai said kindly. The overseer could simply reassign the maintenance crew to provisional critter round-up duties until he could tell the Queen about how the bugs got inside the castle. "Let's go find Aron, Truls, and Bertil." He held out his hand, and the snowman took it with his twig fingers. Olaf waved farewell again to the tour group, and he and Kai strolled off.

"Just a typical day at Arendelle castle," Stefanie jokingly told the visitors as they resumed walking.

"And here I thought we'd only get to see people dusting the woodwork and polishing the silverware," the Irishman wryly confessed. "We got to see the Bishop do a little dusting, but I'm somewhat disappointed that there hasn't been any polishing."

"Give us one more chance, sir," Stefanie said with her tongue firmly in her cheek as she motioned for everyone to enter the dining hall.

Author's Notes - Be warned: There will be spoilers for "Frozen II" and teasers for upcoming moments in "Force of Nature" throughout these notes.

If there are going to be any large-scale action sequences, Elsa needs fast transportation. So, a very special horse is pretty much a requirement, given the technological limitations of the "Frozen" timestamp. Yes, I could have given her a magical conveyance, like a flying carpet or a souped-up skateboard, made of ice, but a horse and rider duo are just more charismatic. Gandalf and Shadowfax. The Lone Ranger and Silver. Alec and the Black Stallion (book version). Sleipnir isn't simply a car with a bad attitude; he will definitely do things that an inanimate object cannot. You will probably want to hug him/cheer for him on a few occasions. Plus, the Christian apocalypse has four horsemen, not three horsemen and a rug-rider or scooter-jockey.

To my surprise, "Frozen II" also gave Elsa a lizard/salamander. Of course, my lizard isn't magical. (The cricket is another story...) But it will give Elsa and Homberg a chance to interact/bond when he enlists her to help catch it. But only after it and Olaf cause pandemonium at the Harvest Festival Ball, with Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King" as the musical cue.

In "Force of Nature," Anna will have sporadic dreams which feature Elsa turning to "living" ice/snow as Anna worries more and more that Elsa's "humanity" is slipping away or isn't developing as it should as her powers grow. Whether Elsa finally does transform into transparent, "living" ice with eyes that glint like diamonds is for me to know and you to find out. Heh!

Because this story is going to be quite a bit darker than what Disney would feel comfortable with for the franchise. I understand their constraints, but my goal is to set up my climax to be the reverse of the original film's: Elsa standing over someone/something with a blade of pure magic, ready to deliver the death stroke (to the literal/figurative heart, naturally). Not going to say whether she actually does it, or what the circumstances, stakes, and consequences are.

But I will say that my version of Elsa also has a more important destiny than just governing a petty kingdom and making sure everyone's ice cream cake melts in their mouths, not on the serving platter. Grand Pabbie will make a quasi-prophetic pronouncement concerning Elsa that superficially seems to be on the "Wow! Awesome!" side, but as crisis-time comes around and people start to think really hard about what Grand Pabbie actually did and did not say, it will become much more of a "Gulp! Oh, no!" scenario. (Coming up with an ambiguous prophecy is much more difficult than you think it is. Really.) In a "realistic" sequel (or at least is as "realistic" as a story that hinges on a character having magical powers can be), Elsa can only end up in one of three conditions: De-powered, separated in some fashion from the ordinary world, or dead. Possibly all three. I steeple my fingers and sit back in my desk chair and smirk at you. Of course, there is a very wide range of ultimate outcomes within those options, but if you are familiar with Larry Niven's "Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex" essay about the troubles that would plague Superman and any ordinary romantic partner, you can understand that Elsa is in a situation that could be titled "Woman of Absolute Zero (Or At Least Dry Ice), Significant Other of Mostly Water," and see why a conventional Disney happy ending is not in the cards as long as she has her powers.

Which will vex my version of Anna to no end. If anything, Anna's character development will be darker and more harrowing than Elsa's, since I have to get her to the truly Rebellious Princess stage. When she finally does travel abroad and sees how appalling the conditions are in places that are close to home, it's going to hit her hard. And when Elsa the Goddess of Thermodynamics refuses to help her "set things right," it's going to hit her even harder. There will be shout-outs to Dostoevsky's "Grand Inquisitor" chapter from The Brothers Karamazov and Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four (I know! As if this isn't weird enough already!) when the Sisters Arendelle argue about it. E.g., says Elsa: "Without a choice, without the opportunity to do wrong, there can be no virtue. And then who would be worthy of heaven?" Although my version of Elsa has a rather strained relationship with religion.

I also have to eventually get Anna to see her parents' actions from her parents' point of view (as well as get Elsa to admit that papa and mama hurt her and gave up on her). I will not be retconning the king and queen's fateful, fatal voyage the way that "Frozen II" did. In a way, I can understand Disney's desire to moderate the way the parents came off in the first movie, but unfortunately, the way they came off in the first movie is completely realistic. I know some people are disturbed by it, but in the real world, parents screw up badly all the time, even if they love their children.

(And "Frozen II's" retcon is, unfortunately, decidedly unbelievable, even within a story that features magic out the wazoo. I mean, one does not simply walk into Mordor... Or a better analogy would be: One does not simply sail up to Aman, especially when the Valar are angry. You had better be at least half Elven and have a Silmaril if you hope to cross the Shadowy Seas. Mere mortals wouldn't survive long enough in Ahtohallan to learn much of anything, even if they had somehow arrived alive. Meanwhile, there's this Enchanted Forest that anyone can just mosey up to, and although Agnarr and Iduna know it's kinda sealed off to ordinary people, maybe their magical daughter could, like, give it a try? Especially since there might be Arendellians still trapped inside. Honest Trailers, HISHE, and Everything Wrong With... will have a field day.)

So, I'll be sticking with Agnarr and Iduna essentially asking Elsa to please keep her emotions and magic stifled for the rest of her life because they really don't -or maybe it's can't- think there's any alternative. I will also be sticking with magic being real, but seemingly extremely rare. However, there will be tension between magic and the ordinary world, especially the monotheistic religions of the era. Not everyone will be as easy-going as the Bishop. I opted to make the Bishop one of the people who knew about Elsa's powers before the Eternal Winter because he definitely saw the frost on the orb and scepter but didn't even bat an eye. He also seemed very apologetic about asking her to remove the gloves. I also opted to give Arendelle another church somewhere not on the castle's campus, because if the gates were shut for thirteen years and the only house of worship is behind the gates, I think somebody would be angry.

I also always planned on having Agnarr's father and mother be ambivalent about Elsa's magic for the relatively brief time that their lives overlap. My King Amund was creeped out by the magic, but at the same time he recognized its potential "usefulness" in a world that glided from war to war. The king of a small, resource-rich country would justifiably worry about getting caught in shifting allegiances, battle lines, and national boundaries, especially with the Buonapartic (Napoleonic) Wars fresh in his mind. Hence, they held off on deciding whether Elsa was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It's not a kindly, loving reason, but it is believable, given the dictates of Realpolitik.

The dictates of Realpolitik will also come into play with the Irishman. You have probably guessed that he isn't "good," and he isn't. He's actually pretty nasty. Anna will still be somewhat shocked by how cold-hearted and ruthless Elsa can be when she has the proper incentive. It's a small step toward "Your Kingdom Will Splinter."