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"Guess what day it is!" Anna leaned over my desk, scattering Elsa's papers. Elsa set the quill down. Working in the library was calm, but her room had far more privacy, though that wasn't saying much.

"It's the anniversary of the first time you and Kristoff had dinner together." Elsa guessed

"No," Anna stomped her foot and raised an eyebrow. "You really don't remember?"

There were only five more days until the prisoner had to make his choice, but Anna didn't know about that. "I give up. What is it?"

"You're starting dance lessons today!"

Elsa groaned and slammed her forehead on the table.

"No, none of that," Anna scolded. "You said you'd start after doing the invitations, but then you had to speak with the advisors and you've been going down to the prison. No more excuses."

"But I haven't found a dance teacher yet."

"That's not a problem; I found the most wonderful dance teacher from Weaselton. He's taught almost every member of the royal family and for a small fee he's willing to help us."

"I'll start tomorrow. There's just too much work today."

"That's not acceptable. You need to start practice, besides," Anna glanced at her hands. "He's already waiting in the ballroom."

"What!?" Elsa jumped out of the seat. "Why didn't you tell me he was waiting? How long has he been down there?"

"Don't worry about him. He's getting paid by the hour, whether or not you're there."

"Please tell me you're joking."

Anna shrugged apologetically, trying to hide her sly smile.

Elsa brushed past Anna, hurrying down the hallway. Anna was lucky she had already finished all her work. If she'd been even slightly lazy, she would have had to pay the dance teacher to sit in the ballroom looking pretty. Couldn't Anna see what a waste of money that would be?

Elsa pushed the ballroom doors open, "Sorry I'm late. I was not expecting you."

A small man sat crouched in one of the chairs that bordered the ballroom. He hadn't bothered with the toupees Weaselton was so famous for, instead his three hairs clinged on to his scalp. "Your majesty, it is a pleasure to be in your presence. I cannot wait to teach you the elegant and festive dances of my beautiful country."

"I'm thrilled to start. Now how will these lessons be arranged?"

"I will work with you at this time every day, for about an hour. I'll teach you the basic steps to the main dances that you would see at any formal event."

"That sounds great." It was just an hour a day - it probably wouldn't be so bad. Besides, the waltz was hard.

"We will start with the peacock."

What in the world was this man talking about?

"You can stand here. I will dance around you."

Not this dance.

"The key to this dance is to bob your head in beat with the music." He peered around expectantly, "it appears that we do not have music. This is best done at a moderato, so about, bop, bop, bop." He began to circle Elsa, nodding his head to his bops.

He was surprisingly spry for such an old man. His knees tapped his chest every other beat and his hands fluttered in an elaborate pattern. When the duke had done it, it had looked so ridiculous, but now…

It still looked incredibly ridiculous.

That wasn't to say the man was a bad dancer. His movements carried grace and the kicks that had seemed so chicken-like on the duke did contain elegance, but it still looked absolutely ridiculous on him. He was just too into the dance; the large circular bounds did not match the jerky head bobs. On top of all that he had still not told Elsa what she was supposed to do. She resorted to the default in-place dip step that most Arendelle dances revolved around.

The dance teacher stopped abruptly. "Why are you not dancing?"

"You haven't told me how I'm supposed to be dancing."

"I shouldn't have to tell you!" The man threw his hands in the air, "feel the music! Let yourself go."

Elsa almost laughed, though there was nothing humorous in the situation. "Perhaps we should try another dance? I think I still remember the foxtrot."

The man huffed and began to trace the steps of the foxtrot. Over his shoulder, Elsa could see Anna shrug.

…..

"Actually try to touch your toes."

Jack glared up at Stick. "I am trying."

Stick eyed the significant distance between Jack's hands and his feet. "I see now why you wanted/needed to take lessons. You are the least flexible person I've ever met."

Jack gave up on his toes and stood up. "I really don't see what flexibility has to do with fighting. It's about strength, technique, all that."

"In the yard perhaps, but in the field you never know what situation you'll find yourself in. But even in the yard, your flexibility could help improve your technique. You could lunge farther forward and have a better, wider stance. You're too easy to knock off your feet; that's why it's so easy for Sanderson to knock you over."

"Really?" Sanderson dropped into his stance, "What should I be doing?"

"I spend hours every day teaching you how to fight. You can learn to fight there."

"So…" Jack rocked onto the balls of his feet. "What's dancing going to do?"

"Learning to dance will help strengthen your core and legs; that will improve your stance, besides that dancing will improve stamina, strength and immediate speed."

"So how will we start?" Jack bobbed his head.

Jack didn't know much about dancing, but he had tried a little jazz back in the day. Of course no one could see him to tell him how his form was, but that never stopped his groove.

"We'll start with a waltz."

A waltz? That made more sense; it was about the same as the 1780s back on …earth? What did they call Jack's home here? He'd never heard anyone call this place Quarth, so did the trolls have a weird name for home that he didn't know about?

"Are you paying attention?"

"Yes sir! Of course," Jack snapped to attention.

"Unfortunately we don't have a partner for you. Here," Stick passed Jack a…stick. "You'll dance with this for the time being. I'll try to see if Erika or anyone else is available to dance with you. Now imagine a box."

Jack paused. It was a nice box, perfectly square and about knee height. It was blue and had a giant bow on the top. It was a present.

"Now place your feet at the left corner of the box."

Jack stared at Stick in confusion, "The corner in the air or on the ground?"

"What are you talking about?"

"There are two corners," Jack gestured towards his imaginary box. I don't know which one you want me to stand by. Though I suppose I can't actually stand in the air," not officially "but should one of my feet be up?"

Stick stared at Jack, waiting almost a minute before he spoke. "I can't tell if you're joking or are genuinely that stupid. It's a square on the ground; there shouldn't be any corners in the air."

"I was just joking." Jack was often unintentionally funny.

"Well then place your feet."

Jack stood at the corner of the imagined box.

"Now move like this, 1-2-3-1-2-3-1-2-3"

Stick glided around his box with surprising grace. Jack paused a few moments and then tried to copy the movements.

"Engage your core! Stop slouching!" Stick's shouts cut through the nice moment. "And hold your partner up-your arms are not dead things to swing from your sides. For god's sake, pull yourself together."

Jack lifted the stick lady up. For a second he'd almost forgotten that he was learning dancing for a drill sergeant. He didn't make that mistake again; Stick yelled far too much to let Jack fall into anything resembling calm.