The Guardian

by Concolor44

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Author's Note:
There was a great deal of interesting, insightful comment in the reviews and PMs I received. Let's see now how many of them were on-target ...

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Chapter 8: Doom

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Arendelle Castle, 29 May 1841, 12:55pm

Queen, she may be, but Elsa was never one to abuse the status of her station. She knocked at the door to the infirmary and waited until someone came to answer. The assistant bowed low and said, "He's in the back room."

That just made her heart beat harder. The 'back room' … the one with no windows, so they could keep it dim, so as not to disturb the dying any more than necessary. Her step was a little slower as she made her way in.

Dr. Odum was writing at a desk. When he caught peripheral movement, he glanced up, saw Elsa, and stuck his quill back in the inkwell. Then he stood and walked around the desk. "Your Majesty."

"Doctor. I understand the Councilor wanted to speak with me."

"Yes. Quite insistent." He looked down, shook his head. "The fever is taking him quickly. I removed the bullet that had gone into his shoulder. It glanced off the underside of the collar bone and lodged under the shoulder-blade. Difficult extraction." Giving a resigned shrug, he added, "Not that it did any good. The two he took to the abdomen tore his bowels. I've applied the linseed oil poultice, but I never really gave it much hope." He turned his gaze to the door opposite and sighed. "Such a waste."

"I would speak with him, then."

"Of course. Though I don't know how lucid he will be."

"It won't … I suppose it … won't matter much longer."

"… No. It won't."

She steeled herself, took a couple of cleansing breaths, and walked in.

A small lamp on a table in the corner gave the only illumination, and it took several seconds for Elsa's eyes to adjust. She walked over and sat on the stool beside Doran's bed.

If she had to be brutally truthful, he looked like hell. He'd lost a lot of blood, battlefield first aid notwithstanding, and so was quite pale in addition to being drenched in sweat. As soon as he noticed her, he gasped, "Your Majesty!"

"Hello, Doran. I wanted … I'd like to … thank you for your bravery in the face of that attack. Though I really wish you'd … that you had stayed …"

"It was for you."

She blinked. "Um … still. You tried."

"No! No, that's not what I mean." He drew a ragged breath. "I have to tell you some things. Things you won't like. I'm dying. You need to know."

"Yes. I … I know you're dying, and …"

"No! Please listen! It's my fault!"

What did he say? "Your fault? What's your fault?"

"The attack … how they got in … my fault … mine."

"Doran … what do you mean? I don't understand."

"You … You're perfect."

"Umm …"

"You are. I've loved you for … for as long as I've known you. But you're the … Queen. I'm nobody."

"… I beg your pardon?"

"I knew … had no chance to … get to know you better. Let you get to know me … that way. So when the Duke … contacted me … with his plan … his ideas … it was the only way …"

"What the devil are you talking about? The Duke? Are you referring to the Duke of Weselton?"

"Right. He wanted … way into Arendelle. Said … after he took over … you wouldn't be Queen … I'd help you escape … you'd be with me … we'd be together … and you'd see, after a time …"

"You?!" She stood and took a step back. "It was you? You were the traitor?"

"A horrible mistake. I see that now. Don't know … not sure how I didn't see it then … no way this could actually work … you have to know … about the other groups … brigands infiltrating …"

Her head was spinning. Her own Councilman? Her Minister of Foreign Affairs had turned coat and given up Arendelle to the enemy? "How could you do such a thing? Don't you realize how many have died because of … I don't … Doran! Please tell me you aren't serious!"

"… Sorry. All my fault." He swallowed, with some difficulty, and turned his head away. "Horrible mistake. But you had to know. Look … in my desk. There are letters. A map. Shows where the patrols go … where the paths into Arendelle would be clear. It's all there. Some … with Weselton's seal. You can use it … use the information … stop them. They're coming here."

A chill raced up her back. "Here? To the castle?" Frost formed around her feet and began spreading across the floor.

He gave a small nod. "Any day. Group we … ran into … was one of … six. Never thought … they would try to … kill you." He gasped and panted. "So stupid. Don't know … how I could be … so stupid."

She couldn't tell if the sheen on his cheek was sweat or tears.

Stepping back up beside the bed, she turned furious eyes on the shrunken man. "Councilman Larsen, if you had any titles, I'd strip you of them."

"… I know. No more than I deserve."

"What you deserve is hanging! But I think your fever will cheat the noose."

"Elsa, I am so sorry!"

"You may not use my name, sir. It is not yours to fling about."

"… Sorry."

"You're 'sorry'. Really? Handing your native land over to foreign invaders, and you're 'sorry'? Traitor!" She grabbed the sides of her head, spun away and stared up at the ceiling in disbelief. "How? How could you ever have thought any of that … that garbage … to be a good idea? You're smarter than that! I know you are!"

"I don't know. I look now at what I did … and all I can feel is revulsion. I don't … don't really understand it myself. I wanted … you. To be with you. And it would never happen … the way things were." He stared off at nothing. "But it wouldn't have happened … this way, either. I don't know. Don't know why I did it. But you … had to know. Protect yourself. Protect Arendelle. Sorry. So sorry."

She stormed over to the door, muttering, "Traitor. Stinking traitor. Deceitful wretch."

"Your Majesty …"

Pausing at the door, she resolutely refused to look at him. "What?"

"Can I … Will you … forgive me? I think … I can die in peace … if I know …"

Giving him one last, withering glance, she ground out, "Under no circumstances. You get to die with the knowledge of what you've done, and that many more innocent citizens will likely perish because of your treachery. Forgive that? I think not." She slammed the door behind her and shouted, "Doctor! Call your assistants!"

Not a quarter hour had passed before two of Admiral Naismith's aides were rifling the Councilman's office.

Less than ten minutes after that, Elsa was in conference with the rest of her Council … and Kristoff.

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Valley of the Living Rock, 30 May 1841, noon

Most of the trolls were awake and active this time. Kristoff fielded a dozen greetings before asking, "Has anyone seen Grandpabbie today?"

"Sure, Kristoff, he took breakfast with us. I think he's in his cave."

"Thanks." He made his way to that end of the Valley.

The old troll ambled out of the low opening in the mountain's side and met Kristoff in the sunlight. He held up a stubby hand and frowned. "My boy, you have … changed."

"That's what I came to talk to you about, Grandpabbie. Something happened. Something I can't … well, I can't really even understand what happened, much less explain it. And the Queen requested that I get some guidance, and not be slow about it."

Pabbie came closer, held his staff out, and closed his eyes, mumbling. Finally, he nodded. "It is as I'd foreseen. The fire crystals have bonded with you."

"… Is that what let me throw rocks really, really fast?"

"What?"

"See, Elsa and Anna and I were on a picnic …"

"Wait. Let's go inside where you can sit."

"Okay."

Half an hour and three cups of tea later, Kristoff finally ran down. "So Elsa's been grilling me about it ever since, like I have any idea at all why it happened. And I didn't mean to kill anybody! But I was just so … and with Anna shot … I couldn't …"

"And you'd never before been responsible for anyone's death."

"… No."

"That, by itself, would be trauma enough, even if magic weren't involved."

"So it was magic?"

"Without doubt. Your fire crystals imbued you with the power of the Earth."

"But I haven't been able to do it again! Only just that once."

The ancient Elemental gazed thoughtfully at Kristoff for a bit, then rose and said, "Follow me." He headed farther into the cave. When they reached the back, he inscribed a quick series of runes on the rock. The cave wall glowed briefly, then tilted away and down, forming a long staircase. He rubbed a hand over the crystal in his staff, bringing it to a warm, yellow light, and followed the stairs; Kristoff followed him.

At the bottom, they came to a void, maybe ten paces across, with four other passages leading from it. Pabbie chose one and they continued. A minute later they did it again. Then again. Then again. After a while, Kristoff thought that he should be feeling pretty dang lost … but he didn't. He knew which way they had come, and he knew how to get back. This knowledge puzzled him … and frightened him.

Little did he know.

After a good fifteen minutes of walking, they came out into a large, domed chamber, where Kristoff paused, open-mouthed. A huge, glowing crystal hung in the air near the apex, casting into sharp lines and shadows the bas-relief carvings that covered the walls. "What is this place?"

"This is our Room of Remembrance. The important events in the history of the trolls are kept here. Come." He moved over to one long, flat section. "As you know, we trolls are charged with the protection of the Earth." He turned to Kristoff and met his gaze. "That means the Earth, not those who live on it. Our protection does not – normally – extend to the brief human kingdoms that rise and fall so quickly, although, as you know from personal experience, we sometimes make exceptions."

"You mean Anna."

"Indeed." He shook his head. "If only I had been clearer in my explanations that night. It was never my intention that Elsa be isolated. Control is not achieved by ignoring something, but through practice and patience and diligence. Had Elsa been growing in the control of her power as it grew in strength, none would now dare oppose her. But that is not where we find ourselves today. Instead, she is frightened of what she can do … deeply frightened. This is not simply a frustration and a sadness (though it certainly is those), but poses a real threat to the Earth."

"… I don't follow. Is Elsa going to bring on another eternal winter?"

"No. The threat does not come from Elsa. It is directed at her." Pabbie held an arm out toward the carvings. "Look. Look and see."

Kristoff stepped closer, squinting at the images carved into the stone. There were trolls erecting mountains (!), trolls digging deep trenches, trolls … apparently holding back the ocean somehow. Trolls …

He stopped. Stared. Took a step back. "That's a human!"

"Indeed. Erik the Bold, King of Nordheim, and named Trollfriend. Look closely."

Kristoff did, and immediately spotted what could only be fire crystals around Erik's neck. "Pabbie, I don't understand."

"There are times when trolls must allow humans to help. Sometimes the threat to the Earth is not a present one, but would be the result of a long string of events that would end in disaster for our world. We stand at one of those crossroads now."

"Is that … but I … Pabbie, why did I get fire crystals? I know that they are usually forbidden to any apart from the trolls. But Bulda said …"

"And so they are, for good reason. When Bulda found you and wanted to adopt you into our tribe, I was initially against it. But that night I had a vision. It convinced me to make you a part of the family. A series of visions over the following months told me much more. Until now, you didn't need to know because there was nothing you could do about it. That has changed; the time has now arrived for you to learn your destiny. It has been revealed to me that the connection between the trolls and royal line of Arendelle – which, as you may not know, stretches back sixteen generations to the founding of the kingdom – is a crucial link in the continued health of the Earth."

"But what does that have to do with me? I'm not a royal!"

"Consider the circumstances. Your involvement with Princess Anna resulted from a series of the most unlikely coincidences. How likely was it that the Queen would reveal her powers in front of that entire assembly? She had hid them successfully for many years. Why, then, her sudden lapse? And when the Princess decided to go after her sister, why did none of the Guard go with her? That broke protocol completely. And why did her horse throw her where it did, so that she just happened to spot Oaken's place as a shelter just before you arrived? She is an accomplished equestrian, and would not normally have lost her mount. And you had just minutes before witnessed the lights coming from North Mountain, so you were ready with an answer when Anna asked her question." Pabbie shook his heavy head. "No, Kristoff. You may not be a royal … but you are the Left Hand of Fate."

"What?!"

"You have been chosen. I could feel it at your Three Fours ceremony, though I didn't know at the time that we would so soon be plunged into war."

"War? What war?" Kristoff was having trouble keeping up.

Pabbie strode to the center of the chamber, under the glowing crystal. "Hear now the Doom of the Guardian!" His own string of fire crystals began to glow in a subtle pulsing pattern that seemed to influence the cadence of what came next.

When Ice at last had come to dwell
In this fair mountain land,

And Peace the tale all Men did tell
And Justice their command,
When homes were whole and Love flowed free
In valley, town, and glade,
Contentment and prosperity
To every man and maid,

Then came a Shadow 'cross the North,
A threat both strong and bold,
And jealousy did he call forth
So hearts of men grew cold.
Lies and theft and murder, too,
The order of the day,
Foul smoke would stain the sky once blue
And pestilence hold sway.

The rivers would with poison run,
The forests crispéd brown.
A time of trouble sore begun,
With Evil raining down.
But one Man rose and stood above
The horrors of the war.
And through his faith and steadfast love
Brought vict'ry evermore.

Pabbie had remained still as stone the whole time, head thrown back, eyes closed, only his mouth moving. Now, though, he took his staff and pointed it at Kristoff, holding the man's gaze like a vise.

The Guardian will rise to stem the flood
With his cunning, or else with his blood.

The cave walls grew dim, the glow of the crystal faded, the ice-cutter's head swam. He collapsed to the rough rock.

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Weselton, Ducal Manor, 11:05pm

Since receiving the first inkling of opposition two and a half weeks earlier, the Duke had not slept. This fact didn't bother him nearly as much as it bothered his servants. But this wasn't the only thing about the old man that they found new and strange. Not by a bow-shot.

He stood now beside a large table spread with maps, most of them of Arendelle and its surrounds. Markers here and there showed him the position of his naval squadrons, his mercenary units, his spies. Soon, he would be in position to overrun the capitol, then the Winter Witch would be in his power …

The twinge on his left forearm was small, but unmistakable. He rubbed at it a moment, then looked off to the northeast. One of his puppets had just died. Concentrating, he recalled the spell he had used to bind to himself the letter containing the geas.

So. That Larsen fellow. New Minister of Foreign Affairs. That was unfortunate. He'd been an important link in the plans. True, he controlled others there, but none with anything like the clout or access that Larsen had possessed.

Eh. No matter. Nearly everything was already in place. He had only now to crank the trap shut, and the Witch would be dead before mid-summer. And there was nothing anyone in Arendelle could do to stop it.

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End Note:
New information can be a real shock, as Elsa and Kristoff have discovered. But forewarned is, as the saying goes, forearmed. Let's hope that isn't just a nostrum.

All comments welcome!