The Guardian

by Concolor44

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Chapter 4: Ceremony

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Arendelle Village, 12 May 1841, 9:10am

The position of "Official Ice Master and Deliverer" was technically a knighthood, so Kristoff, technically, would be addressed as Sir Bjorgman … except that honorific gave him a rash. He'd had to remind the stable-hand twice so far, "It's just Kristoff."

The kid bobbed his head. "Yessir."

Giving up with a sigh, he finished checking out Sven's harness and then climbed up in his sled. Anna ambled over and leaned up against the side. "Any idea how long this'll take?"

"Probably just overnight. I can't imagine the ceremony taking any longer than that. All I know for sure is that it starts at sunset." And, he reflected, given the robust troll physiology, it will probably involve copious quantities of extraordinarily hard liquor.

Anna tried not to pout. Really. No, really! She understood (somewhat) that Kristoff had obligations that didn't involve her. But just because she understood it didn't mean she had to like it. She was anxious to change that, too, but Elsa had insisted on a minimum of one year for their engagement. Not for the first time did she conclude that if Elsa were the one in love, she wouldn't wait that long.

The ceremony in question was The Dance of the Three Fours, and was intended to commemorate the twelfth anniversary of Kristoff's receipt of his first fire crystal. He'd never heard of such a thing until the previous evening when he'd come back to his room to discover a large rock in the middle of the floor. Suspecting it might be from the trolls (and might be a prank) he had approached it carefully, inspected it thoroughly, and finally touched it gingerly. With a low pop, it had opened to reveal an invitation to the ceremony, worded in such a way as to indicate that attendance was not optional.

Taking the reins in his hand, he leaned over and gave Anna a long, gentle kiss … then another … then leaned his forehead against hers. "I won't stay any longer than I have to. I did just pay 'em a visit not six weeks ago, so they don't have an excuse to keep me there."

Her answering smirk preceded another quick peck on his lips. "I'll hold you to that." Then she stepped back so he could leave.

This time of year the journey to the Valley of Living Rock was free of snow until maybe a quarter-league before getting to the first steam vent. Still, it was a light enough cover that he didn't have to take the wheels off. He and Sven pulled to a stop, and he hopped down.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground than small boulders began rolling in his direction. The next few hours were loud, chaotic, brash, and entirely enjoyable.

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11:28pm

He wasn't drunk. Not, ah, not completely. Just … happy.

Yeah. Really happy.

And practically everything that anyone said was simply hilarious.

Bulda strolled up to him and handed him another cup. He grinned until his cheeks hurt. "Thanks, Mom!"

"Drink up now."

If he'd had a little more on the ball at the time, he might have wondered at that. She'd been advising him to "slow down" and "wait a bit before your next one" and "get some water first" all night. And now she was encouraging him? Wasn't that just wonderful? "You're wunnerful, Mom!"

"I know, I know. Now … drink."

Happily he upended the mug and took three long swallows …

It was close to five minutes before he stopped coughing. Now utterly sober, her stared at Bulda and said, "What the cold, sliding Hell was in that cup?!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Looking at the arrangement of her digits, he grimaced and said, "No need to get ugly about it."

"You started it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know good and well that you can't even keep up with a little troll, and there you were going mug for mug with Trynn and Krope. At your own ceremony!"

He stopped to consider her words, then hung his head and mumbled, "Sorry."

"You do realize that you have to be sober for the Enlightening."

"Yes … I do." Grandpabbie had explained that. He'd explained a lot of things. Some of them, Kristoff even remembered now … and panicked. "My cloak! I haven't woven my cloak yet, and …" He squinted at the sky for a moment. "Crap! It's not long till midnight! Where's some snakegrass, where's …"

"Hush." Bulda reached over and pulled the cloak in question from behind a rock. "Here. I put one together for you."

Kristoff grabbed it, then leaned down and gave his adoptive mother a fierce hug. "You're the best."

"Naturally. Now go on." She made shooing motions. "Off with you. Can't be late."

The ceremony was held in a small grotto halfway up the side of the mountain to the east of the trolls' home. There was standing. There was kneeling. There was chanting. It wasn't exactly 'if you've seen one induction ceremony, you've seen 'em all', but Kristoff wasn't handed any real surprises.

At ten minutes to midnight, he donned his grass cape and took his place, kneeling in the center of the circle.

At four minutes to midnight, Grandpabbie raised his arms. Silence reigned for almost two minutes.

"It is a solemn thing," he finally said, "a weighty thing, a righteous thing that Kristoff has done, and at times the charge has been a heavy burden. For three fours of years he has worn his crystals. Always they have been there to remind him. Always has he carefully guarded them. He has kept his path clean, his spirit pure, and his actions noble."

Kristoff had his doubts about that part, but kept his opinions to himself.

"Tonight, he receives his Crystal of Joining."

Wait, what? Crystal of Joining? But I thought only real trolls …

Pabbie flashed him a very brief smile. "Sometimes," he whispered, "we make an exception."

The old troll placed his hands together and then drew them slowly apart, revealing a crystal a bit shorter and a bit thicker than the ones Kristoff already wore. He stood stone still as Pabbie held it against his chest, quietly intoning the Geas of Attainment. When he finished and stepped back, the five crystals hanging from the leather cord were all connected at the bottom to the new one, which lay horizontally.

"Rise now, Kristoff. Rise and join your brothers and sisters."

But as the human was rising to his feet, a tremor went through the ground. Several trolls swayed with it, others looking around in shock.

Now, it wasn't as if earthquakes were unknown in the region. Far from it. But part of the basic nature of the troll is an intimate connection with the local geological formations. If an earthquake was building, they would know. They always know, even the young ones.

This time, none of them knew, and that fact all but petrified them. Had they known there would be tremors, they would have chosen a different spot for the ceremony because …

The ground shook again, harder, longer, and this time the mountainside above them groaned and crackled, spit and … released.

Hundreds of tons of stone began rolling and sliding down the steep grade, some of the boulders running into obstacles and stopping, some hitting bigger rocky outcroppings, and a few of those went airborne.

It was pure instinct. Kristoff didn't even think about it. Perhaps somewhere in his subconscious something said, "That's a child. Protect it." He was leaping before he had a chance to evaluate the situation. The flying chunk of rock, probably at least a ton, was falling straight at a small troll girl. As he found his feet in front of her, as the boulder descended and hit, that same little voice in the bottom of his mind sighed and said, "I'm really sorry, Anna. We would have been wonderful together."

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Weselton, the Ducal Manor, midnight

For most of his life, it took Brian Clade several minutes to make the transition from sleep to waking. Thoughts and dreams would jumble together, reality would slowly, haltingly reassemble itself, and eventually he would know where and who he was, what was his world and what he left in dreamland.

Tonight he went from a deep but troubled sleep to awake and alert in less than a second.

Something changed. Something big. Something … concerning. Something that might threaten his plans.

He rang his bell-pull and a servant appeared immediately, light spilling in from a gaslight in the hall. If the young man was surprised to find the Duke awake, he hid it well. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"We are under attack."

Briefly his eyebrows rose, but he recomposed himself. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace? Attack from where?"

"I don't know yet. Wake the Colonel. Assemble the Marines." He swung his legs off the bed and strode to his dressing room.

That was another thing. This young fellow (his name was Bert) had been in the Duke's service for nearly five years. He knew how the old man suffered from arthritis in his knee, and that it would take several minutes of bending and massaging – and a small dose of laudanum – before he could walk comfortably. He'd been that way for years … up until last fall. That was just one of many, many changes that left Bert feeling a bit disturbed in the Duke's presence.

Nevertheless, he had his orders, although he was pretty sure that if they were under attack, he would have heard something. He trotted off to wake the man who directed one of the most efficient, well-armed military forces on the planet. Bert hoped he wouldn't come awake in a foul mood.

Brian Clade, meanwhile, was nearly finished dressing, his movements uncannily quick and accurate. He finished off his uniform, brushing away a bit of imaginary dust. One had to look the part, after all.

His lips compressing to a thin line under his mustache, he headed for the meeting room where he planned all his battles. Maybe that buffoon of a Colonel wouldn't spend too much time muddying the waters this time. He had a distressing aversion to collateral damage. The Duke felt confident he could fix that over time, though.

As he moved down the hall, he stopped and stared at his reflection in a full-length mirror, just to make sure. His eyes flashed yellow for less than a second before he centered himself and allowed them to return to their normal blue.

Control it. Don't let it control you.

Taking a cleansing breath, he made his way toward his meeting.

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End Note:

Please note that if a story contains actual, real Major Character Death, it will say so in the summary.