Credit goes to RohnHazard for his diligent work as beta-reader, all rights belong to Disney, and Baymax looks like he was made of marshmallows.
Chapter 17
Because of You
Helge's Journal Observations, Passage No. 6:
According to Adam the Adventurer's records regarding the case of the citizens whose souls fell to the Spøkelse of Ravendall, their bodies remained capable of breathing even as their hearts stopped beating, their skin going ice-cold. In fact, the last two conditions belie the reality that the victims were indeed still alive as of Adam's writing.
With regards to this, Grand Pabbie and the others have reason to believe that stripping a person of their soul puts them into what seems to be a deep, unrousable sleep, although the condition certainly won't last long; the victim is left defenseless and in need of nourishment, after all. In other words, the victim is on borrowed time.
In the end, the greatest question that remains would be about how to save the victim. One obvious solution would be to ask the Spøkelse itself to release its grip on the soul; If the spirit was free, a reunion would've been eye-bleedingly simple. Although, I'm certain Hólmgeirr would be less than agreeable on that regard.
"Hey Kristoff! Anna! Come on guys, you need to catch up!" Giggling to himself in delight, a little figure sprinkled snowflakes in all directions as he dashed madly through the crowd of shoppers and patrons. He skipped, dove, and wound around the stampede of legs and feet with astounding agility, all the while maintaining a bucktoothed grin as he continued a hair's width from being kicked to the ground. Fortunately for Olaf, the task was made much easier by the citizens of Arendelle. Three weeks were still not enough to desensitize to a walking, laughing snowman, so shoppers were quick to leap out of his way in a mixture of fascination and horror.
Even so, Olaf continued to dance and twirl, absolutely adoring just how the snow flurry floating above him seemed to mimic his movements with the same vibrant energy. In fact, he was so absorbed in his little fun cloud, he hardly paid heed to where he was running towards. Eventually though, something as bright as the sun caught his peripheral vision, and he looked back down for a little investigation.
Olaf gasped in alarm: He was heading for a crash course towards a fire pit, its golden flames dancing and licking hungrily as it beckoned him to come forth. Sadly, the little golem was just a tad too late in ramming his feet to a stop, so he continued to slide full force towards his imminent doom.
Without warning, a massive hand lunged forward, diving through the air in the blink of an eye. Thick, callused fingers grabbed on to the twigs on Olaf's head, and pulled with a great yank just a split-second before the snowman could fall into the roaring flame. However, the snowman's inertia proceeded to drive the rest of his body forward, so Olaf bore witness to a view of his lower abdomen sweeping upwards from beneath him, his little legs waggling high in the air. He could feel the blazing heat envelop his feet as it attempted to steal him away, but his body swung back like a pendulum before even a drop was melted.
The hand released its grip on Olaf, allowing the snow figure to stand back on his own feet. He turned around to view his savior, a towering blond man who loomed overhead, his muscles and bulk pressed tightly against his shirt. Kristoff's dark brows furrowed, and his tone was nothing short of irritated. "Olaf, what on Earth were you trying to accomplish by running off like that? You nearly got yourself killed!"
Olaf's happy smile faltered under the mountain man's stern glare, and he found himself looking down in shame, his stick fingers fidgeting apologetically. "I'm sorry, Kristoff..." However, his mood made a complete turn to chipper, and he tilted his head back up with a grin. "At least I had you to save me! I promise I won't get myself hurt that way again, you betcha sir!" he added with a salute.
Kristoff's shoulders relaxed as he sighed in exasperation. "You really need to work on your self-preservation skills..." he muttered. While the snowman had repeatedly proven himself to be surprisingly durable, especially now that he has a personal snow cloud to ward away heat, roaring fires were still an obvious hazard for snow creatures. Besides, what's a large, active fire doing in the middle of a marketplace?
The ice harvester's large nose twitched, and he took in a deep sniff in bliss. A heavenly aroma hung in the air, emanating from the very same fire Olaf nearly extinguished with his own body. Upon closer inspection, it was actually situated below a grill to serve as a heat source, one which sizzled as fat melted away from cooking meats. They were absolutely appetizing to the eyes, smothered in juices and sauce that glistened even in the dull lighting of the day, emitting steam that could have rendered the air itself edible.
His mouth watering uncontrollably, Kristoff raised a hand to catch the vendor's attention. "Excuse me, ma'am!" he called out above the public chatter. "I'll take two of those meatball kebabs."
"Kristoff Bjorgman!"
The young man shuddered, his ears perking at this all-too familiar voice. As he handed money over to the vendor, he looked over his shoulder to see girl in lovely green summer dress stormed forward in powerful strides, her freckled face and lips pulled back in anger. Her copper pigtails swung back in forth vigorously, and her bright blue eyes were currently intense enough to drill holes into the ice harvester. "Olaf nearly got melted down to his buttons," his girlfriend scolded, "and you're just thinking about food!?"
Kristoff did his best to appear relaxed by chewing his kebab stick, but he broke out in a nervous sweat even in this chilly summer day. "It's alright, Anna." he assured hastily. "Olaf understood what he did was wrong. It's not gonna happen again, not on my watch."
Anna crossed her arms and peered at him through narrowed eyes, further unnerving Kristoff. She flicked her gaze to the side of the big man, watching Olaf as he stood a safe distance away from the fire. The snowman grinned, humming happily to himself as he held out his hands for warmth. How that was exactly supposed to work given his lack of nerve endings, nobody really figured that out.
Already, Anna's eyes had begun to soften; it was never really Kristoff's fault in the first place, and Olaf was perfectly safe and intact thanks to his reflexes. However, the Princess was a stubborn sort, the type unwilling to give up, so she tried sticking to her guns by crossing her arms and pointing her nose away.
Unfortunately for the redhead, the delicious and savory smell of the kebab sticks was too difficult to ignore. Her stomach, nasty little uncooperative thing it was, roared furiously and in droves, creating a sort of gurgling noise very reminiscent of gushing storm drains. The wave of sounds were so disruptive, they caused many a passerby, Olaf included, to turn and rubberneck like dogs hearing something curious.
"Quiet!" Anna rebuked her seething abdomen, her many freckles completely disappearing in shame. The stomach cheerfully rebelled with another series of rumbles.
All the while, Kristoff watched the redheaded princess with a knowing grin. Stretching the arm holding the untouched meatball kebab outwards, he pointed the snack to her as an offering, a sign of truce. Seconds ticked by the din of the marketplace, with a visibly uncomfortable Anna staring daggers at the mountain man.
Finally, the kebab quickly disappeared with a blurred swipe of Anna's arm. Still completely red in the face, the Princess maintained her eye contact with Kristoff as she tore into her food, but blinked rapidly as she chewed. "This… is actually pretty good." Anna admitted, finishing the rest with gusto.
Kristoff grinned from ear to ear. "So, you've forgiven me?"
Anna stepped closer to her boyfriend's side, before punched the mountain man lightly in the arm with a sunny grin. "There's nothing that needs forgiving." Turning herself around, she raised a free hand up to her mouth. "Hey Olaf! Why don't you come over here?"
The couple watched patiently as Olaf waddled his way over to them, at the same time waving and saying his farewells to both the vendor lady and the grill; he apparently didn't see a need to forgive the blazing cooking utensil either. With a smile, Anna offered a hand to the snowman, allowing him to hold onto it with a giggle. Immediately catching on, Kristoff did the same for Olaf's other hand, feeling the spindly twig-like fingers close around his palm. With Olaf safe and secure between them, the three now held hands as a couple would with a little child... if said child was oddly-shaped and made of snow, of course.
"So, uh..." Anna began. "Where were we again? Before a certain little scamp decided to run off?"
Olaf only giggled upon recognition of whom she was referring to.
"You mean the part where people coming from the woods directly west of here are feeling a case of the creeps?" Kristoff asked in confirmation, his smile fading. "Yeah, apparently from what we've learned so far, those lands have been trashed beyond all recognition by something big and nasty, scattering crystal shards everywhere in its rampage."
"Pfft..."
Kristoff glanced at the Princess in concern. "Look, Anna. I know that Marshmallow is just as much Elsa's creation as Olaf is right here." He gently shook the twig arm in emphasis. "That doesn't mean he's excepted from any sort of suspicion. A ghost can't just rip the ground apart and destroy roads by itself, much less one that Pabbie should have weakened by now."
Anna sighed. "I know, I know... Still, that's why we're asking questions around here to find out more, right?"
"Of course." Kristoff assured. "Who knows, maybe it's just a freak incident-"
"Hey guys!" Olaf's voice rang out from a distance. His little white body could be seen bouncing up and down in and out of the flood of market goers. "I don't know if this would be of any help, but I found someone who's been outside of Arendelle!"
Kristoff and Anna looked at each other, their eyebrows raised in surprise. The two could still feel the snowman's stick hands squeezing tightly on theirs, but when they shifted their views downwards to check, the couple saw only disembodied limbs that maintained their grips. Unbeknownst to them, the snowman had freed himself while the two weren't paying attention, scuttling away sans his arms as they remained blissfully unaware of his great escape.
While Olaf running off again would have been a severe strain on both his friends' nerves at this point, the news he brought only brought hope, and the two counted themselves lucky for this sudden opportunity. "Toss me his other hand!" the redhead cried excitedly. "No wait, too much time!" Instead, she opted to simply snatch it away from the ice harvester, and gave chase to the rest of Olaf's body while a stunned Kristoff lagged behind.
Anna's eyes darted left and right, scouring the area for a hint of the white snowman. Within seconds, she caught a glimpse of a bucktoothed grin adorning a prominently orange carrot nose, bouncing up and down directly where she was headed. Her feet skidded to a stop, and she looked around to find herself in the Downtown section of Arendelle. In front of her was Olaf, who was now happily flicking his head at a large kiosk behind him. Her grip on Olaf's twiggy arms loosened, allowing them to squirm themselves free, as she approached the kiosk for closer inspection. She quickly identified it as a tailor's shop. Peering inside, countless lengths of fabric, decorated richly with dynamic patterns and dyes one would normally need exotic flowers to see in real life, hung all over on racks made to emphasize their quality and color choices. If one knew where to look, the variety inside was incredible: ranging from robes, to sewing materials, to carpet rugs, to artistic tapestries.
In the midst of the displayed fabrics, a kindly stick of a middle-aged woman, one who was a bulging nose and a cackling smile away from appearing less "kindly" and more traditionally "hag-like", popped out, startling the princess. She smiled politely, but it grew immensely wide upon seeing Olaf celebrating the return of his hands. Evidently, the woman had already accustomed herself well to the snowman's presence.
"Hullo!" Olaf chirped, waving his restored hand for all it was worth.
"Hello again, little man." The woman replied. "Such a rare weather we're having today, isn't it?"
"Sure was, ma'am. Hey, why don't you tell Princess Anna what you were talking about a couple minutes ago!"
The older woman's eyes widened in shock, and she made a double-take at the redhead, realization striking her as if someone just walked right up and socked her in the chin. "Oh, Your Highness!" she exclaimed, resting a hand on her chest. "Well, I certainly feel quite important right now!"
Anna blushed. "I-I see."
The tailor nodded eagerly. "I was just entertaining your little friend here with a story about my son. You see, he recently came from his trip outside of Arendelle, so he's had plenty of adventures out of state before finally returning home yesterday! Would you care to have a listen?"
Anna swallowed, leaning closer to the counter-top. "Actually... I'd like to know if he'd seen anything coming into Arendelle."
The woman's cheer extinguished abruptly, and she pursed her lips. "...I don't have too much to say about that, actually. There's... not really much I can guarantee that isn't a fib." she muttered in disappointment.
"Can you at least tell me anything? Anything at all?" Anna implored.
"Well... He's such a sweet young man, but he never really thought about anything besides himself. He wasn't too much the worker either, so I knew that something had been eating away at him when he returned home, gave one look at me, and then hugged me tightly, saying such strange things like how he'll never leave me alone. Then, he proceeded to clean the entire house spotless!" She frowned in contemplation, and then gave a shake of her head. "While it's a nice change in pace, I don't know if I should like it or not. I tried asking him, but he just said it grew really, really cold just as he was about to cross the bridge over the Gorged Rim. He says there's nothing more, but I don't believe him."
A heavy silence laid itself between the shopkeeper and the Princess, while Olaf turned from one person to the next in confusion. "...I'm sorry I cannot tell you a better tale, Your Highness," the tailor finally said.
Anna, who had been quiet because she was actually trying not to think out loud for once, snapped out of her mulling and held out her hands in protest. "Nonono, I thought it was fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Top-notch! I just have a lot to think about, that's all..."
"Oh..." The tailor said, her voice trailing off. Then, she straightened herself to the proper posture of a saleswoman, and waved a hand at the cornucopia of wares displayed in the shop behind her. "Would you care to purchase something while you think?"
"Well, I'll take three meters of that red fabric then, ma'am."
Anna blinked. She certainly didn't say anything, and Olaf looked just as confused as her. She turned around behind her, coming face-to-face with a smiling Kristoff. "There you two are!" he called. "Looks like you found something new."
Anna nodded eagerly, happy that her boyfriend had managed to catch up the two. However, as she watched Kristoff hand his money over in exchange for a neatly-folded piece of cloth, she couldn't help but scratch her head in puzzlement. Something just wasn't right about the ice harvester at the moment, but she couldn't put a finger on it. Was it because he seemed to be smiling a little too often, or was it because she hasn't noticed him bargaining even once since they entered town?
"Kristoff?" Anna asked suspiciously. "What's going on?"
"Hm? Oh..." Kristoff flicked his eyes away from the Princess, seemingly focused on Olaf shaking hands with the tailor before saying his goodbyes. He flashed another strange grin, and said: "You know I'm rather fond of the color red, Anna. Since Helge came over to stay for a bit, sewing something up with this shouldn't take too long. Perhaps I can work up a nice scarf for you, or..."
Anna didn't smile back. Rather, she raised a hand to the ice harvester's broad shoulder, patting it gently. "Really? For someone who's trying to help save a kingdom, you seemed oddly relaxed and easygoing about this whole thing. If I didn't know better, I'd thought this would just be another date!"
Kristoff's eye twitched at the word, and his face flushed a deep shade of pink. Scratching the back of his head, he developed a sudden interest in watching Olaf vigorously shake hands with the tailor before saying goodbye.
"What's the matter, Kristoff?" Anna repeated.
The mountain man raised his hands up in defeat. "I'm sorry about how I'm acting Anna, but… look, I've learned a long time ago that getting all moody and worried over something inevitable is pretty useless. Just got to grit your teeth, and walk with your best step forward."
Anna chuckled slightly. "But, if what you said was true, then why have you been buying stuff here and there as if nothing was wrong?"
Seconds passed by in relative silence. Kristoff didn't say anything in retort. He looked incredibly unsure of himself, like a child who had been caught red-handed. Finally, the ice harvester became incredibly despondent, and gazed down at Anna with pained eyes. Slowly, he walked forward step by step, eventually looming over her with his height and silhouette. He raised his arms, and then wrapped themselves around Anna's body into an embrace that only grew tighter. "This…" Kristoff whispered quietly, "this might be the last thing we do before… before everything goes south."
Anna twitched at those words, suddenly empathizing with the worry and the anxiety hidden beneath them. Kristoff's previously roundabout behavior made sense to her now; this man had spent most of his time out in the wilds with only a reindeer by his side, not having made a genuinely human companion until he had met Anna. Now that she was a prime target for a rampaging Spøkelse…
Some people would have ran away from such a fate, or perhaps fall down to their knees to pray endlessly. Some would try to bargain with themselves, take out their anger and their frustration on others as catharsis, or outright shut themselves away with plugged ears until the world collapsed around them.
Anna was not like any of those people. If she was ever going to go down, it wouldn't ever happen without a fight.
Looking up at the massive presence that was Kristoff, she wriggled a hand free from his hug before lifting it high, laying it on the back of the ice harvester's neck. She pulled him towards herself, with the young man obediently following along by craning his head down low, low enough that she could see his soft brown eyes without needing to look upwards.
"Kristoff, this isn't the man that I've fallen in love with three weeks ago." Anna began. "Since when did you ever stop believing in yourself and everyone else?"
Kristoff choked. "When did I eve-..." He stopped himself, the gears in his head working into overdrive. A smile was brought to his face, full of hope and security. "You're right, Anna. We might be in danger, but we're used to that kind of thing, aren't we? Of course there's no need to treat this day as our last." Laughing a little, he released his hold on the Princess. "I sure sounded like an idiot there, didn't I? Being a lousy excuse of a boyfriend and all."
Anna smiled cheerfully. "Don't say things like that, you've done plenty for me and the kingdom already! Even Elsa believes that you're a good man!"
The ice harvester's eyes brightened, and he stood just a little taller, a little more confident with himself. "Thanks for everything, Anna." He paused a little, scratching his chin as he mulled over what to discuss of next. "Say, what did you learn anyway?"
Anna nodded affirmatively, clicking her heels together while swinging her arms in a mock salute, imitating the messengers she occasionally saw coming in and out of the Palace. "Unfortunately for that tailor's son, he might have been close enough to the Spook to be attacked by it, or… something, at the Gorged Rim. That would obviously mean-"
"...the Spøkelse is now within Arendelle's southwestern borders." Elsa noted to herself, the yellow rose bouquet bobbing up and down with every step. "Still, that doesn't answer too much, as there are multiple trails and trade routes that run through the western regions of the kingdom. Too many of them also leads to the Western Passage, which I know had been mysteriously wrecked. Now, which one could the Spøkelse be in?..."
As grave a matter as this whole monologue was, the disguised Snow Queen couldn't help but feel a little cheer, invigorated by this flow of information now running through her head. The card Ingrid gave her was practically a godsend; if only the petite florist was around, Elsa would give her another hug in gratitude.
Elsa's blue eyes scanned the card tied to the bouquet's stems. Not only had she learned so much, but she was also nearing the end of her name list. There were the inevitable instances of duplicate information across several witnesses, but she still made good progress all the same. And yet, the Queen wasn't so sure about what she ought to do afterwards, hoping she could think of something before she must return to the castle. But at that moment, it was just business as usual.
The next person written on the card went by the name of "Sigurd." If the florist had written correctly, the man should be living somewhere on the street she was at. Elsa looked up from the card, reading the displayed signs on buildings to herself: "There's 'Felt and Fabric Workshop'... 'Sverre's Toybox'... Petter's Physical Treatments and Therapies: Bleeding Finally Discredited'... and 'Sigurd's Steel, Silver, and other Metalwork Smithy.' There you are."
The shop in question was a rather wide but not very tall building, rising only a single story before closing off with a sloping roof. It would have looked more at home out in the countryside, rather than at the center of an active and bustling city. Even so, Elsa knew it was the right place; the directions on the card was correct, and she hadn't seen any other shops or residences that contained the same name.
The Queen made quick glances from side-to-side, suspecting someone might be tailing her out of sheer curiosity. Then, she resisted the urge to slap herself in the forehead; she was still pretending to be a raven-haired woman named Elizabeth, not the Queen of Arendelle running around in broad daylight. She reapplied her focus back to the shop, and then to the door. She inhaled, sucking in as much air as her lungs could permit, then exhaled, releasing all of the air in one go. As of today, this little ritual had become the go-to method for preparing for the inevitable attention and speaking to others. The technique proved borderline useless when it came to large crowds, with the curious gazes and attentive faces of strangers. For a simple conversation though, the boost was much appreciated.
Pumped up and as ready to go as Anna and Olaf always were, Elsa marched right up to the wooden doorway, and rapped it with her knuckles three times. Leaning her head towards the door, she listened for the telltale feet shuffling forwards to greet her. She waited... and waited...
Nothing.
Elsa frowned. Maintaining a secure grip on her bouquet, she took a few steps backwards, tilting her head up at the rooftop; a lone chimney puffed a constant and thick stream of ash and smoke, which rose high into the air before fading away in the gray clouds up above. Curious, Elsa walked over to one of the windows, using a free hand to tap it lightly. She tried peeking through, but the interior of the shop was too dark to make anything out, much to the Queen's annoyance. Elsa was no blacksmith, but someone with at least half a brain should have been nearby to watch the fire, or else risk burning down the entire town.
The Queen of Arendelle wouldn't accept that sort of negligence upon her behalf, even if she was a rather weak and painfully timid example of one; walking back to the doorway, she knocked three times once again, much louder this time. When no one responded still, she gave an impatient sigh, and grasped the doorknob. Discovering the door to have been unlocked, she stepped inside.
Almost immediately, Elsa was assaulted by a wave of new sensations, ones that cannot be found anywhere else. The sweltering heat washed against her like a tangible being, pressing itself against her nose, eyes, and mouth like a heavy blanket. It took the lady several seconds of eye-watering and gagging, before her lungs could finally accustom to the heat now wrapping around her. Another peculiar detail was the smell hanging in the air; Elsa briefly mistook it for a nosebleed, until she dabbed her thumb to find nothing on it. Then again, the place does rely on working with iron, no doubt the source of odor. However, that wasn't all: it was aromatic, inexplicably sweet and salty. The inside of her nose burned with something fierce, although its awareness faded away given time.
Eventually, not even the Snow Queen was bothered too badly by the environment. She blinked her eyes repeatedly, her eyes still having difficulty seeing where there was little lighting; as it turned out, there were actually quite a few windows adorning the walls, but the outside was so limited in sunlight that it did the smithy no favors. For example, she could just barely make out some chains hanging on the wall, but not much else. In fact, the only reliable light source was the forge itself, a great cobblestone piece standing on a section of floor filled with gravel, emitting smog and a gentle orange ambiance, interrupted by the occasional dancing spark.
The Queen was beginning to feel a little lightheaded from the temperature. For a moment, Elsa considered simply freezing the whole room over to provide refuge, but quickly caught herself; she still had no idea where Sigurd the blacksmith could potentially be, and she didn't want anyone to walk in on her and discover her secret. Nervously, her free hand rubbed against the brooch keeping her blue traveling cloak attached. What should I do? she wondered.
You can start by acting like a normal human being, Elizabeth.
Her eyes finally adjusting decently to the darkness, Elsa discovered a convenient coat hanger standing to her left. Unclasping her cloak, she hung it carefully on one of its many rungs. Then, she set her yellow rose bouquet, which looked even lovelier in the gentle glow of the fire, on a nearby waiting bench. Satisfied that her possessions would be safe and secure, she turned around.
That was when she saw them, slowly coming into view in the shop's dimness; rows upon rows upon rows of metallic objects, standing neatly and proudly on display shelves for all to see. However, as Elsa discovered when she stepped closer to marvel them, these metal-works were arranged with little regard to subject matter; lustrous teapots stood next to flowing emblems, a cast-iron alligator staring glumly back at her with silver eyes, and a gilded cobra which the Queen swore could have been heard hissing, not to mention miniature figurines of children dancing around scale models of famous buildings worldwide, complete with arches and beams. Each one was incredibly detailed as well, with flowing shapes, zigzag patterns, stars and ridges etched as decorations. For some reason, they combined to look oddly reminiscent of latticed frost, or a winter portrait.
However, within these wondrous displays was something peculiar, something that stood out like a sore thumb: At the very center of the gallery was a mannequin dressed in a glimmering set of plate armor, one that harkened back to the Middle Ages. It too was adorned in remarkable patterns, and yet... it was malformed, off-center. As a matter of fact, it was actually incomplete; sections of chainmail beneath hung loosely like patchwork, and pieces of metal plating were outright missing.
whump
A great and heavy hand slapped itself onto Elsa's shoulder, squeezing it tight enough to register the sensation as painful. Elsa jolted to a freeze in response, rendered completely breathless by the sudden shock, behaving very much as prey would do the moment before a predator inevitably went in for the kill.
"There are two kinds of people who would enter my smithy, fair lady: Either it's a customer... or a thief." said a deeply hoarse voice.
The thick fingers dug even deeper into the disguised Queen's shoulder. "So tell me... which one do you consider yourself as?"
Elsa quaked violently, all the way down to her borrowed shoes. Shivering in fear, she slowly turned her head to face whoever was behind her, surprising herself when she saw a rather young man with buzzed hair come into view, his dim silhouette as wiry as the frames of his glasses. Even so, the hand gripping her was a clear sign of his deceptive strength. Besides that, there wasn't anything else that Elsa could discern; the man's face was completely inscrutable, as was the flat look of his eyes.
"U-um... Yes!" the disguised Queen sputtered quietly, darting her eyes left and right in panic.
"'Yes?' Seems to be a bit of an odd response, isn't it? Not unlike what a poor excuse of a thief would cook up." In spite of these words, however, the man's hand released its hold on Elsa, prompting the woman to rub her throbbing shoulder in relief. "Although, I wouldn't blame you; it's even chillier than normal for my tastes today, and you've clearly spent too much time outside." He flexed his hand slowly, staring at it in a mix of curiosity and befuddlement.
Elsa swallowed hard; her cold body temperature came dangerously close to blowing her cover, inducing misunderstanding and panic. She must keep the man's mind out of suspicion immediately. "Th-that's true, sir. However, I am sorry to say that I am looking to neither steal nor purchase any goods from your workshop."
"Hm! I see!" The man turned his attention away from the disguised Queen to approach the forge, bending over to reach for a small box sitting beside it. "Then, what brings you here?"
Elsa dusted herself clean, taking great care not to touch anything. "I'm actually asking around town for any strange occurrences within Arendelle." she stated, tugging onto a blackened lock of hair for assurance. Noticing that a bit of the coloring was rubbing off on her fingers, she promptly stopped. "It's nothing too important really, but... I'm really, interested with what's going on out there."
The man didn't say anything for a long time. Instead, he was content with sitting besides the fire, stoking the coals powering it with a long poker, sending swarms of sparks high into the air with every scrape.
"I-it's okay if you don't want to say anything!" Elsa hastily added.
Finally, the man came to a stop, turning around on his seat to face the disguised Queen. "Your name is?" he inquired.
"Els-" Elsa clamped her teeth shut with an audible click, narrowly missing her tongue. It was bad enough that she was declared a thief, much less being the only ice-cold thing in this sweltering forge; she wasn't going to compound the embarrassment by blowing her cover like the idiot she was as well. "It's Elizabeth."
While not necessarily unpleasant, the name still felt incredibly alien and detached to the disguised Queen's tongue; she couldn't help but feel her face flush even in the smithy's heat, sheepish for having to fall back under this pseudonym.
The man nodded slowly and sympathetically, as if he now understood completely what Elizabeth was going through. "Ah... no wonder you seemed so peculiar. Say, which country do you come from?"
This little comment only made the disguised Queen's left eye twitch involuntarily; for some reason, practically everyone she came across today while under her makeshift persona asked her this question, or some variant thereof. Perhaps she just looked too out-of-place in Arendelle to be considered anything else.
"Actually, I was just given a strange name at birth." Elizabeth retorted. "I've lived in this town for all my life." She didn't even bother covering her mouth to correct herself this time. True, she still can't face her own identity or others without wrapping herself in a coat of lies and deception; if Helge was here to see her, he would have scolded the disguised Queen for not following the plan and ditching her persona by the time she entered the town. But in all honesty, her heart soared; soared for letting her mask slip just a little more loosely, soared for at least mustering the moxie to admit this one honest truth about herself. It wasn't really too much of an effort, but it was a mistake on her part to let others deem her an outsider to Arendelle.
So, she was very shocked to watch as the man hunched forth, his chest shaking. A snigger bubbled from within his throat, slowly but surely graduating to a full-blown belly laugh. "So..." he said between peals of merriment. "You aren't too far off from me, believe it or not. My parents traveled from way down south when I was still learning to walk! I had to grow in a different home, so for as long as I can remember, my name is Sigurd. Nice to meet you!"
Here he is.
Elsa blinked in comprehension, as she watched the blacksmith with renewed interest while he stood up from his chair, and walked over to observe his displayed metal figurines and pieces. "But... that's a perfectly lovely name." she complimented.
Sigurd snorted. "That was what my parents said when we first moved here." Idly, he brushed a finger over one particular figure, a lion who exhumed ferocity, majesty, and pride through a mane stretching from its neck down its belly, colored a dark brown to contrast its gilded body. "Hm... I couldn't help but notice that you have an eye for art."
Elsa raised an eyebrow at Sigurd, wondering where could this conversation could possibly lead to. "Well, I'm rather fond of geometry-"
"-Then let's make a deal!" The man sat himself back in front of the burning forge, a stack of papers resting in his hands. He faced Elizabeth with a wide grin on his face. "I actually spend my fair share of business outside of this fjord, traveling far and wide through mountains and woodlands. No doubt, I might have seen or heard something that will catch your interest."
While these words were music to Elsa's ears, she didn't exactly permit herself to start leaping for joy just yet; Sigurd's tone of voice sounded much too suspicious for him to be characterized as charitable. "...What are your terms?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"These papers here-" he said, patting them lightly with the back of his hand, "-are my latest designs and projects. I've been meaning to find someone to critique them for a while, and the fact that someone who just waltzed right into my shop with a bizarre and rare fascination with geometry is nothing short of good fortune. You work for me a little, and I'll answer your questions! How does that sound to you?"
Elsa hesitated, and with good reason: Absolutely no one else had ever asked for some sort of compensation for asking her questions, being more than happy to answer before going back to their daily lives. If she denied him right here and left, it could be entirely possible that the remaining people left on Ingrid's card could tell her everything Sigurd could tell her, maybe even more. If that was true, then what's the point of wasting precious and valuable time here?
Then again... what happens if the opposite was true? If she just left one important piece of information slip by while it was still dangling in front of her, it could spell the difference between success and failure in confronting the Spøkelse. She couldn't afford an oversight, even if she was a poor excuse of a Queen.
Elsa turned her head back at the rose bouquet sitting quietly near the doorway. There were hardly any names left on the card anyway, and the pile of parchment was nowhere close to the mountain of paperwork she normally had to deal with back home...
"I'll do it."
"Great!" Sliding a wooden stool next to him, Sigurd patted it gently in a friendly, welcoming gesture. "Have a seat here, Elizabeth, you must be freezing! How about I offer you some food?"
Elizabeth raised her hands outwards in protest. "Oh, nonono-"
"-Don't worry, it's nothing too expensive!" Sigurd laughed. He waited as Elizabeth made her way next to him with hesitant steps, and watched her smile unconsciously as the warm and pleasant heat of the flames licked her deliciously. When she sat down, the blacksmith passed something wrapped and bundled in paper from a box sitting nearby. The lady peeled it open, revealing a steaming potato covered in blend of unidentifiable powder. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the man, more than a hint of suspicion touching her icy blue eyes.
"It's my mother's recipe." the blacksmith explained. "Come on, have a go!"
The disguised Queen sighed, and dug into the potato with her teeth as she pored over Sigurd's designs and schematics. Almost immediately, a wave of exotic aromas filled her nose, overwhelming and powerful, burning her tongue. But, the taste of the meal was amazing, somehow feeling as exotic and far-reaching as it was nostalgic, while remaining quite savory all around. It warmed her immensely, and only provoked her appetite with every chew. She nodded in approval as she swallowed, which only made the blacksmith beam brightly.
Elizabeth flicked a glance back at the stack of parchment, and braced herself as she raised two sheets up to eye-level in the firelight to make comparisons; these papers were arranged just as haphazardly as the completed works resting on display. And, unless sculpting figures made of ice and snow with only a flick of a hand and some mental effort counts as craftsmanship, Elsa had never done creative work before, so whatever language this man was using for step-by-step directions was well beyond her. At least she could make out both faults and impressive accomplishments with the sketches alone; the blacksmith in particular was obsessive about details and shapes, measuring them down by the millimeter, although he hiccupped occasionally when it came to certain fields like off-angle facets of stars, or lamps too large to be practical.
Ten minutes passed by as Elsa worked, her voice becoming stronger and more confident as she adapted to Sigurd's presence. Initially, she was fearful of pointing out some of his more glaring mishaps, not wanting to insult this wiry man who seemed to have put his heart and soul into his work, but Sigurd was nothing short of polite and very receptive. Over time, Elizabeth became more generous, more self-assured with her advice and corrections. She worked quickly as well, already going through half the stack of papers in such a short amount of time.
Although, as Elsa scrunched her nose in concentration, taking yet another bite off her potato, she couldn't help but notice a recurring element throughout the blacksmith's work; the same mixtures of swirls, pinpoint stars, bands and angled lines complimenting each other like a windy, wintry scenery.
"Is something the matter?" Sigurd's voice rang out with curiosity.
Elsa frowned. "This one's very good, maybe just a little heavy with the flourishes here and there…" She raised a sheet concerned with molding a brass trombone, her finger tapping on one particular pattern marked on the bell's side. "Excuse me for asking, but I couldn't help but notice that these etches remind me of something familiar, something that I've seen around here…"
In the ambient lighting, Sigurd the blacksmith broke out into a wide grin. "Ah, looks like you've caught on, Elizabeth." He lifted a supple arm towards the parchment, tracing a circle around the tuning slide with his fingernail. "See that lining there? These are imitations of what I've seen the Snow Queen create. The bands and diamond shapes belong to me, though."
Elsa dropped her jaw, rendered completely flabbergasted: No wonder this artwork was so familiar to her, they were offshoots of her own ice! "Why would that be?" she found herself asking in confusion. "Wasn't the Midsummer Blizzard three weeks ago harmful for so many people here?"
Sigurd sat back, grabbing another wrapped potato from the box. "Naturally, Elizabeth. Absolutely no one was prepared for the enchanted cold spell. Even I had trouble getting a fire going since the Great Thaw, until it occurred to me that I had to clean out my entire shop to rid of the moisture, not to mention the shocking news of having a sorceress for a Queen."
Elsa stared at Sigurd for a few seconds, before lowering her head in shame. Of course her citizens had to suffer when she suffered that moment of weakness and ran away, of course this blacksmith was just one more victim. If it weren't for the fact that Elsa's cloak was hanging off the far end of the smithy, the disguised Queen would have fidgeted with her brooch in fit of nerves.
"However," Sigurd continued, having not paid attention to Elizabeth's reaction, "us merchants and artisans are experts in making the best out of bad situations, and what the Queen of Arendelle had done was absolutely mind-blowing: In just a single day alone, she turned this town into a tourist hot spot!"
Elsa looked back up at the wiry man in shock. "Seriously?"
Sigurd suspended from his fire-tending to give the woman an odd look. "You don't go out frequently, do you? It's a bit subtle, but if you knew where to look, you'll see these things everywhere; snowflake badges, winter tapestries, extra-large glitter dust, fence posts, guns, that sort of stuff. The Snow Queen is a bit of a reclusive fellow, so many try playing up the consumer's interests by faking endorsement. Others go even further, visiting the Royal Palace for inspiration, incorporating her magically-created patterns into their own wares. Everyone has their own reason for doing so, but I have to say that it's quite profitable."
The disguised Queen rested the papers down on her lap, her face pensive as she followed the orange glow of the fire with her eyes. While a slight weight was lifted from her heart, out of relief that the events following her disastrous Coronation weren't as destructive as she had convinced herself to be, the fact that many were essentially using her just to pull in sales was... disconcerting, at best. They could have at least asked me first. she thought bemusedly.
The blacksmith chuckled to himself, noting Elizabeth's puzzled expression this time around. "You know, shouldn't you be asking me one of those burning questions you came into this store with in the first place?"
Elsa choked in startled realization. If the Queen was being completely honest with herself, she actually had a lot of fun running around as Elizabeth, exploring the kingdom on her own merits without the attention and highly public life monarchs usually shouldered, while learning more and more as time went by. It was no surprise, really, considering Queen Elsa was as much a stranger to her own people as her Elizabeth persona was.
Then again, this wasn't the reason why she was donned a mask in the first place, not even close at all.
No... you held onto it because you refuse to grow up and be a woman about it, hugging tightly to this false name like a security blanket you couldn't bear to step outside without.
This time, Elsa's inner reasoning just came off as petty; she would be going nowhere if she continued. Sucking in a deep breath to focus herself, Elizabeth faced the expectant blacksmith, and hoped for the best. "Have you been to the Western Passage yesterday?"
The man scowled, proving once and for all that Elsa made the right choice for sticking around. "Not I, but my shipment of iron certainly did. Place had been completely torn apart by some freak of nature, setting me back several hours in supplies." He paused to scratch his chin, before adding: "Apparently, it's even worse just a little south of the region though. The early morning fog was so absurdly thick, I heard that caravans got lost for hours in the Thulite Path, which is bizarre since it's just a long road to town!"
Fog… Thulite Path...
Hólmgeirr, I've finally caught you.
Elsa had expected to feel incredibly relieved after spending fruitless hours searching, grasping at clues and loose straws before ever making a breakthrough. She wanted to celebrate, to leap in joy, perhaps even shake hands with every man and woman she could come across as she danced all the way back to the Royal Palace. So, it was much to the disguised Queen's surprise when nothing of that sort came up, not at all. In fact, she was more dissatisfied than anything else.
So... why is that?
Well, you found out about the Spøkelse... who is kilometers away from any route leading into the Western Passage. Elsa's eyes widen in grim acceptance and abject horror: She had hoped the Spøkelse was somehow capable of physical destruction, despite being an intangible spirit. However, it couldn't possibly in two places at once, at least with the distance in between the Passage and the Thulite Path, which can only mean...
There is a second, angry threat that we haven't accounted for.
...And a certain someone is to blame for this spanner in the works.
Elsa just had to know. She stood up from her stool, scattering pieces of paper everywhere much to the alarm of Sigurd. "You said you've drawn inspiration from my-... from the Snow Queen's work, right? Have you ever tried visiting the North Mountain?"
"Whoa, whoa! Please, calm yourself down!" the blacksmith objected hurriedly. "You're sending some of my projects into the fire!"
Elizabeth's face flushed, and the lady stopped short before embarrassing herself further and inconveniencing others with her outbursts. Slowly, she sat back down while picking up after her mess, hugging herself tightly afterwards.
"Whew! That was... interesting." The blacksmith cheerfully noted. "Although, I actually do visit the North Mountain regularly, perhaps once a week."
Elizabeth didn't try to express much excitement this time around. "So you must be aware of a certain creature lurking around at the summit, right?"
Much to Elsa's bewilderment, it was Sigurd who became riled up, going as far as to leap from his spot, and stomp on the gravel floor angrily with a huff. "Seen it? That thing's a pain in the neck!" He froze mid-stomp with his leg raised, and promptly scratched the back of his head sheepishly for his own hypocrisy. "I uh... I make regular trips up there."
Elsa couldn't resist putting on a small smile. "Oh?"
"I always wanted to get a closer look at the fabled Ice Palace." Sigurd admitted. "I don't know if you've seen it before, but it really is quite a piece of work! But! Every. Single. Time! I can only get within eyesight before being chased back down by that snow giant! The thing never leaves its post, ever!"
It's still violently rejecting and chasing away intruders... just like I had always wanted it to.
"It must have been a really difficult for you," Elizabeth somberly said, "to keep hiking up the mountains and risking your life to see the Palace, only to get thrown back down by its guardian..."
The blacksmith settled down, waving a hand dismissively at the lady. "Nah, I hitch rides with ice harvesters who want to see the castle for themselves, too. It's actually quite fun, once the adrenaline starts kicking in." He paused, staring at the ceiling in thought. "Although... now that I'm thinking about it, I'd rather meet Queen Elsa myself, and thank her for the past three weeks." He shook his head. "Funny thing is, I missed that chance yesterday, on the one time she showed up in public since the Thaw. Ah... in the end, it's just a silly little wish."
"...There is nothing silly in a wish, Sigurd." Elizabeth remarked quietly.
Once again, the disguised Queen found herself deeply troubled by the accounts of her own people, because while she was able to obtain anonymity among them by wearing a mask, at what cost must she pay? Her sense of honesty? Her lack of ability to comfort those who needed her the most? The masquerade itself was certainly worth it, without a doubt; she would have never built up enough courage to ask others for their time with only three weeks of progress, so Helge's aid was much appreciated.
The only issue that persists now is... must Elsa hold tight to her Elizabeth alias? Should she allow herself a moment to show who she truly is?
Elsa couldn't really bring herself up to answer this question. Instead, she chose to neatly stack whatever was left of the schematics besides the wooden stool, and stand up. "Thank you for your time." she said softly, curtsying to the wiry man in gratitude.
"...You're leaving?"
Elizabeth nodded back, turned around, and then she saw it. The chains she had merely passed over upon first entering the workshop. Now that Elsa's eyes have completely adjusted to the smithy's relative darkness, she finally realized the iron links for what they were; a metal pair of heavy manacles that hung unworn and empty, waiting patiently to render a victim inert and completely helpless in their open maws.
Almost instantly, the walls shifted, forming distinct cement lines in the dimness that encased themselves like a prison cell. Even the burning fire, which had been a symbol of comfort and warmth since she was first invited to approach it, melted into the invading scenery: besides the pale lighting of the frosted windows, the cell burned in a malevolent tinge of vermilion.
Elsa staggered backwards in shock, her heart hammering hard and irregularly against her chest. Her hands shivered and itched uncontrollably, and yet she was powerless to even so much as scratch them. The only thing the Snow Queen could do was watch in terror, as ice crawled outwards from her feet to encase and swallow everything like a hungry forest fire. She feared for her life, and she wanted out. What must she do to escape?
"Elizabeth!"
Who was Elizabeth? Weren't the guards on the hunt for their fugitive Queen?
"Wake up, Elizabeth! Wake up!"
Something tapped itself against her face, blunted and difficult to notice. Elsa scrunched her face up in response, and blinked rapidly with increasing awareness as the taps began to sting harder. Bit by bit, she was pulling herself away from her mental world, following the sound of a faraway voice, her vision alternating between a cramped cell and an expansive workshop. Finally, she was sitting back on a stool, her arms hanging loosely but freely by her side, her face somewhat dazed.
"Elizabeth!" Above her, a panicking Sigurd patted her briskly on the cheeks, calling her name out in an attempt to restore her. Instinctively, the disguised Queen slapped his hand away, eliciting a cry of surprise from the wiry blacksmith. "Hey, it's not my fault you decided to freak out in my shop!" he complained.
Elsa ignored him, instead scanning her surroundings for any magically-created frost that could have escaped from her control. Immediately, she feared the very worse: Did anything freeze over? Did anyone find out?
Elsa.
The disguised Queen halted, suddenly aware of the blacksmith staring at the burning coals of his fire, making sure nothing peters out with an iron poker on hand. Besides his frantic efforts to snap Elizabeth out of her breakdown, he didn't seem to be affected by much else.
Like a calmer, wiser woman, her mind began consoling the Queen with slow and deliberate wording, listing off each and every reasoning, toning down her ramming heart with every phrase:
First of all, it was much too dark for Sigurd to notice anything strange, much less reflect itself on sheets of ice.
Second, his complaints of the surprisingly moderate temperatures outside shows he's much too sensitive to the cold. He wouldn't have realized a new wave of chills was not a simple draft.
Third, this entire room is still blisteringly warm by anyone's standards but Sigurd's. Your ice would have difficulty manifesting itself in this sort of environment. So please, Elizabeth, just relax before you get yourself in further trouble.
Elsa remained in her seat, finally soothed back to normal, albeit humiliated, levels. From the corner of her eye, she watched as the blacksmith walked over to the other end of the smithy, his body hunched over to investigate just what could startle the lady so terribly. He returned within seconds, the chained metal gauntlets dangling loosely and harmlessly from his hands.
The lady cringed, recoiling as those things swung closer to her. "Please..." she weakly murmured.
Sigurd blinked, and he flicked his eyes back to the chains he carried. "Hm..." he mused. "I don't really know your history, Elizabeth, or how this thing relates to you... But honestly, I think you have been nothing a perfectly kind, wonderful lady who won't see another prison wall in the near future. You got that?"
Elsa looked up from her chair with upset eyes.
The blacksmith's brow furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck as the gears in his head clearly whirred in thought. Then, he pointed a long finger upwards, his face brightened by a surge of inspiration. "Would you like to hear a story? About something like this?" he asked, rattling the steel bindings a little. "I don't know if it will cheer you up, but it won't take too much time! I mean, the door is right there if you don't want to listen..."
The raven-haired lady didn't say anything. Neither did she move.
The blacksmith tilted his head. "...I'll take that as a yes." Kneeling downwards so he was eye-level with Elizabeth, Sigurd rubbed his hands together, like a man ready to complete and arduous task.
"If I was to be honest, I used to loathe Norway's winters." he began. "I hated the cold snow that prickled my skin, I hated the blistering winds, and absolutely hated the dark cloudy days it brought that lasted for weeks. Winter locked me inside my home, locked my parents inside my home... all-round it wasn't a ball of fun. So, when the Midsummer Blizzard came rolling by three weeks ago, it was like my worst nightmare has come true, a seventh circle of hell!"
Elsa blinked. "I-I see..."
"But, a little less than three weeks ago, a bunch of Palace Guards came knocking on my door. I happened to be one of the few craftsmen still in town at the time, so they chose me, of all people, to help out with fixing the castle. They never said anything except to ask for my assistance, no clarification, nothing. Now, it was bizarre enough that I was entering the Palace for the first time, so when I realized we were heading down to its basement level, it terrified me more than anything else; I thought I was getting locked up! I mean, what kind of crime can one commit to be locked in the basement cell of a castle, for crying out loud...
"Then, one of the guards opened up a door, and that was when I saw it; a giant hole blown in thick stone walls, like a-... a bomb had gone off inside it! I tried asking a Palace Guard if he knew the culprit." Sigurd continued. "He was a big, serious-looking fellow, but upon hearing my question he suddenly became tight-lipped, looking rather dangerously close to crying... "
Elsa concentrated reflexively, willing with all her might not to slip back into the past. She certainly remembered that moment, after she had finally freed herself of those horrid manacles... maybe even a glimpse of the men who finally broke open the prison door...
"However! That wasn't what truly caught my attention!" Sigurd added, raising his hands high in the air with expression and vigor. His flailing movements were so similar to a few people Elsa had grown to care for, the disguised Queen couldn't help but feel lighter. "There was rubble everywhere; wooden support beams, chunks of stone, and piles of dust smothered the cell floor. And at the very center of this ungodly mess, sitting completely out in the open, were these little scraps of metal..." Sigurd raised the chains to give them a jingle. "They used to looked just like these, the kind slapped onto those who harass their fellow inmates. I wasn't the one who made them, but I knew they were of the finest quality, and built to last. So, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw those things lying on the floor, covered in frost, and just peeled open like a fruit!" he chattered excitedly. "Can you imagine that?"
Elsa actually managed to smile back, feeling some of her own heart return with the blacksmith's enthusiasm. "I can't really say that I believe you..." she muttered half-jokingly.
"Hey, don't cut in on my fun!" Sigurd laughed. "But anyway, It was only a few days later when I learned that it was the Queen herself, our very own winter sorceress, who managed free. I mean, I've seen what a "cold snap" can do to ships, but this...!"
Finally deciding to settle down, he sat back on his chair, a grin etched on his face. "Growing up, I've always thought of winter and snow as a means of confinement... but Queen Elsa taught me that I was just looking at the wrong side of the coin. I never paused to wonder how each snowflake goes on their own adventure, or how the cold winds blow without limits; I learned that there's a kind of freedom in ice and snow, one that cannot be imprisoned by even the strongest metal. That is why I use winter designs in my work, and that is why I wanted to meet the Snow Queen one day." The blacksmith beamed, his teeth glinting in the orange firelight. "Apologies for having you listen to this winded anecdote when you needed to leave, but I hope it helps a little."
You can tell him, you know. You can tell him the truth, make his dream come true.
Elsa stood up from her chair, and walked over to the exit, feeling the fire's heat fade and slip away with every step. Pausing only to once again marvel at the blacksmith's hard work, she retrieved her traveling cloak from the coat hanger, and picked up the rose bouquet from the bench, before turning around to face the blacksmith with her hand on the door. "Thank you... for everything."
Sigurd blinked. "What, for answering your questions, or...?"
Elsa merely smiled.
The wiry blacksmith nodded in comprehension. "Alright then." Chuckling to himself, he added: "But I'd have to thank you, for entering my shop and all. Say, why don't you come back someday, Elizabeth? I could use more of your help from time to time, and uh... it's nice chatting with somebody else, at least once in a while."
The lady's smile spread even wider. "Of course. I wish you a good day, Sigurd." And with that said, she stepped out of the warm building and back into the brisk Arendelle afternoon, her cerulean cape billowing in the wind.
"This is quite troublesome…" muttered Kristoff, stretching his arms upwards as his mouth yawned wide and long tiredly; the last couple of hours have been spent chasing endless leads without rest, and it wasn't as if he got much sleep the last night.
Beside him, Anna brightly tilted her head with piqued interest, her red pigtails bobbing back and forth with every step, the hems of her dress floating ever-so slightly through the air. "You're talking about Marshmallow, right?"
"Who's Marshmallow-" Kristoff began to ask, but his mouth clamped shut in before he could finish the question. "Ah right, we gave him an official name now…" He shot a glance at the little snowman accompanying the two, one who hummed absentmindedly as he waddled between him and Anna. The mountain man couldn't recall why, when, or how Olaf's nickname became official, but both the snowman and his girlfriend refused to call the enigmatic snow giant by anything else.
The ice harvester paused to reconsider his words, using the time to readjust the red sash wrapped around his waist. "Anyway... about 'Marshmallow,' word on the street says he has been roaming around the western parts of the kingdom, which doesn't spell good news." he explained. "To be fair, I never remembered him being one to start a fight, unlike a certain feisty lady..."
Anna smiled awkwardly in response, brushing a lock of red hair past her left ear. "Heh, yeah..."
"...but the fact that it's tearing up the landscape violently tells us that it might be too angry to reason with. I don't know how much of a setback it will prove to be, whether or not the kingdom will remain safe when we finally head out, or if we should even concern ourselves with him right now.""
"Well… how about we stick around town to find out?" Anna suggested. "Should we keep Helge waiting for a little longer?"
Kristoff turned his head to one of the stores populating the street, his eyes focusing on a grandfather clock displayed in a shop window. Past the ice harvester's reflection on the glass, the hands on the clock's face cheerfully pointed out that the time was a quarter past two. "There's still plenty of time before sun falls below the horizon." he stated.
"Alright then!" Anna exclaimed brightly. "How about we start by-..." her voice trailed off, suddenly aware of a tugging sensation on her green floral skirt. "...Olaf?"
The little snowman's stick hand had been pulling at the Princess' clothes, trying his best to catch her attention without barging in on her conversation. Upon achieving his goal, he jabbed a finger up at a particular building, or perhaps more specifically, at what was covering its door.
Anna covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a gasp. The door was gilded in what appears to be smooth, shimmering silver, stretching outwards before ending in interweaving spikes and spirals. Its mere luster alone was breathtaking, and yet that wasn't all it had to offer. Rising from the surface were countless crooked bands, creating neat fissures that gave way to diamond shapes and other geometric arrangements. Miniature animals marched on frozen horizons below swirling clouds, many of which the Princess recognized as exotic beasts from countries far south of Norway, sorted in layers by extent of grandeur. With a carving of a pompous sun watching over all, the door was an incredible tableau of wild energy, order, beauty and adventure.
Olaf gave a long, low whistle, pointing his nose at the sign hanging overhead. "Wow... this "Sigurd Smithy" person really likes to show off, huh?"
Kristoff silently inched closer, looking at the door with skepticism. Anna rushed to his side, and both of them touched different parts of the scene depicted before them. Laying one dainty finger on the sun's blazing rays, she felt an intense cold bite back, sharply contradicting its curving and slippery surface. "It's… it's ice." she breathed.
"And flawless, too." Kristoff added, completely spellbound by the work. He raised a hand with fingers outstretched, brushing them across even more patterns and surfaces, marveling just how the ridges slide and rippled alongside his skin. "No kinks, no air bubbles, no internal cracks, nothing. Perfectly smooth." His lips parted, the whites of his eyes growing larger by the second in revelation. "This is no blacksmith's work." he whispered.
Kristoff's statement was absolutely electric; both the Princess and the ice harvester looked at each other, both of their eyebrows rocketing high up their forehead to comical levels. "Elsa!" they shouted at the same time.
It had to be Anna's older sister. The ice couldn't have been made by anyone else. The Princess's heart danced with such absolute joy and elation, the rest of her body followed along with celebratory leaps and pumps of her fist. Elsa has finally overcome her fears, finding the strength within herself to walk out in the open by herself, no doubt to help out her friends and family they way she had always wanted to. "Yes! Yes! Woot, you go sis!"
Anna continued to leap up and down in happiness, doing so for about three or four times before noticing something was amiss. Out of the three friends who realized Elsa has finally left the castle on her own volition, she was the only one who engaged in jubilation. Even Olaf was silent, actually looking downcast for such a typically cheerful person.
"Guys?" Anna inquired hesitantly.
Olaf did something that Anna has never seen him do in the three weeks she had grown to know him; he fidgeted with his twig fingers, making soft clicking sounds with where his nails should've been as he shuffled his little feet together, like an painfully shy child faced with uncomfortable circumstances. "We never spotted her anywhere... does that mean Elsa doesn't want to be with us?"
The words themselves were meek and sincere in delivery, but they were more than enough to set the redhead off. The Princess' cheeks as flushed to a shade similar to her flaming hair, completely steamed and incensed. "Of course not!" Anna hotly rebuked. "What could possibly plant such ideas in your head?"
However, just arguing against Olaf's question wasn't enough. Already, doubt was beginning to seep into Anna's conscience like venom, chilling her blood, and paining her chest with every heartbeat. After all, Olaf had a point: why didn't Elsa meet up with them already? Why was she running alone, creating such telltale creations of ice all by her lonesome?
A heavy, but gentle weight rested itself on Anna's lithe shoulders, squeezing once firmly, but with tender fingers. It was a gesture of incredible warmth, trust, assurance, and most importantly, stability. Anna turned around, her disheartened eyes looking up at a neutral Kristoff.
"Something's wrong…" he observed, his tone level and calculating. "I mean, a Snow Queen just walking around would have caused at least some kind of stir in this town, right? Remember how yesterday turned out for her?" He scratched his jaw, the space between his eyebrows decreasing... and then he abruptly froze. His face slowly warped, turning into a comical expression of horror. "No one has seen her..."
"...because no one thought it was her! That's it! She's gotta be pulling a disguise or something!" Anna finished excitedly for the ice harvester, her eyes opened wide as tea saucers. She let out a long, slow breath in awe. "That is... that is just so cool."
Kristoff grimaced. "Sure it does, but that just makes a normally easy job of finding her near impossible." he muttered. "I mean, where could she be? Does anyone even know what she looks like right now?"
"Hey guys!" Olaf's voice rang out in a singsong pitch. "Sorry to burst into your conversation, but I think we already have all the clues we need right here!" With a dramatic swing of his wooden hands, the little snowman gestured to the artistically-frozen door, spreading his limbs as widely as to capture its grand image. "We can just ask the door where she was heading!"
Kristoff snorted with his arms crossed, while Anna broke out into jubilant laughter. "Come on Olaf, doors can't talk!" the Princess corrected between amused breaths. "At least, not as much as I would like them to. But, I know for sure that this 'Sigurd' person is a different story!" Firmly grasping the doorknob, she swung the door open, and looked back at her smiling friends. "Let's go find my sister!"
Feel free to drop a comment or two, even if you aren't logged in! If you got any questions about the plot, the characters, etc., don't be afraid to ask. I'll always answer, and I take great care not to drop spoilers.
See you guys soon, fans of Frozen.