AN: This chapter did NOT come willingly. I fought for every single paragraph of this one! It's a bit shorter than the rest but I hope it flows okay.
Chapter 5
In the village, some miles from the castle, the old witch sat in her parlor, gazing into a large bowl of murky water. The potion she had poured in swirled around, blooming and flowing like smoke through the air. The fire crackled merrily beside her; it was close to midnight. The storm had been holding at a steady pace all day, some sleet and ice but nothing else. Suddenly there was a shift in the air.
As the wind picked up outside, the water in the bowl began to swirl faster, the purplish-gray potion churning within it. The witch's eyes widened and she leaned closer, staring deeply into the cosmos held within the crystal bowl before her.
Swirling.
Whirling.
Snow.
The wind gave a mighty shriek and blew the fire out.
"It's time…" The witch murmured. Her face split into a grin and her eyes danced wildly. "It's time!"
Forgetting herself and her age, the old witch catapulted out of her chair and began to dance around the parlor, nearly knocking the crystal bowl to the floor in her haste. She burst through the front door, out into the squall.
"IT'S TIME!" The old witch cried, although the wind entirely drowned out her voice. She stretched her hands toward the sky, bony wrists showing as her sleeves fell towards her elbows. Her numerous bracelets jangled in the harsh wind.
"Prepare yourself, Your Majesty!" She called out as though speaking directly to the queen. Suddenly, she stopped, seeming to think of something. "Wait a minute…"
The old hag hustled back inside, closing the door against the howling wind and eddies. She dropped back into her chair beside the crystal bowl. The contents were now veritably roiling. Placing her hands on the bowl, one on each side, the witch concentrated and stared into the depths. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on what the oracle was conveying.
After several seconds, the witch sat up straight in her chair and gasped. In a low whisper she said, "It's not over yet." Staring intently at the wall, the witch began to murmur another verse, similar in style to the one she had given the queen so many months ago.
"The queen, upon the birthing bed,
Brings forth a child with hair of red.
A loving heart and eyes of teal,
She shows the world that love is real.
Only she - an angel, kind and warm -
Can calm the Snow Queen's inner storm.
Though fear brings wrath from sky above,
She holds the key within her: love."
With a mighty shriek, the storm blew itself out. The old witch hurried to the window. Outside, snow was falling silently in big, fluffy flakes. Pulling a shawl on this time, the witch stepped out the front door once again. She stared delightedly up at the gentle snowfall. Welcome to the world, little Princess, she thought. The snowflakes twirled through the air as though they were tiny dancers sent from heaven itself to welcome the new baby.
In the distance, the witch heard the peal of bells. It was an unusual tune - much different than the noon or Sunday bells. It was the celebration air. The heir to the Arendelle throne was born.
The tiny princess's magical powers became apparent almost immediately after her birth. The wind died own the moment the baby came earth-side. No sooner had Turid and Doctor Larsen helped the wriggling child slip from her mother into the world than several snow flurries burst to life in various parts of the room. The new little soul gave an audible gasp and then opened her tiny mouth in a wail, setting the snow flurries alight with activity.
"There, there," Turid soothed, wiping the newborn off with a soft cloth and wrapping her in a cozy blanket. "It's all right, little one. That was a scary experience but it's over now."
The midwife placed the child, wrapped snugly, onto Iduna's chest.
"Hello there, my sweet little girl," the queen said lovingly, staring at the bundle on her chest, unable to quite believe her eyes. "Hello, princess."
At the sound of her mother's voice, the tiny girl's cries died down just as suddenly as the wind had just moments earlier. Her chin and lower lip trembled but her crying ceased and her eyes opened, staring directly into the queen's. Iduna gasped. The baby's eyes were as blue as a crystalline lake in the middle of summer. Long lashes fluttered against the child's cheeks as she blinked, trying to accustom herself to even the dim light in the room. The baby's skin was pale and soft as silk. Iduna stroked her daughter's cheek with the back of her finger.
"I love you," she whispered to her new baby. "I love you more than anything in the world."
"The snow stopped," Doctor Larsen said in an unusual voice.
Iduna glanced out the window and was confused to find snowflakes still falling outside.
"The snow inside," the doctor amended. He looked a bit shell shocked.
Only then did Iduna notice the snow drifts in the corners of the room. She looked down at the baby cradled against her chest. The little princess blinked back up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
"You were frightened, weren't you?" Iduna asked the baby. "I never thought about what the birthing process must be like for you." Bending forward awkwardly, the queen placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead.
"Have you and His Majesty chosen a name for the princess?" Turid asked from near the foot of the bed as she gathered up cloths to help clean up after the birth.
The Queen of Arendelle stared at her daughter, awestruck. "Elsa," she murmured.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful princess. We must pass the child off momentarily, My Queen," Turid said apologetically, returning to the bedside once again. "It's time to deal with the afterbirth."
Turid gently lifted the child from Iduna's grasp, much to the queen's dismay, and placed her into the waiting arms of a servant who had materialized several feet from the bedside. Or maybe she'd been there the entire time, Iduna couldn't be sure.
After the queen had passed the afterbirth and the doctor had checked her over, declaring her in as good of health as a new mother could be, the midwife helped Iduna clean up and change her clothes. At this point, the new Princess of Arendelle made her presence known once again.
"I think she's hungry," Turid said as a light snow began to fall throughout the room, growing slightly stronger along with the decibel level of the baby's cries. "Would you like to try to nurse her, Your Majesty? Or shall I make arrangements for a wet nurse?"
"I want to nurse her," Iduna answered instantly. It may not have been entirely commonplace for royal women — especially queens — to nurse their children but Iduna had waited so very long to become a mother that she wasn't going to give up anything if she could help it.
Turid showed the queen how to get the child latched on and nursing properly. "Your milk hasn't come in fully, Your Majesty. That can take a couple of days, but your body is still providing nutrients for her."
Iduna stared down at the tiny baby, suckling contentedly, her little hands open and splayed against the skin of Iduna's breast. She looked up at Turid with tears in her eyes. "I love her."
The midwife smiled. "I can see that."
The calm was relatively short-lived, though. That evening, wails rang out through the castle halls and the nursery had snow drifts piling up in every corner.
"I don't know what's wrong!" Cried the frantic queen. "She won't stop crying!"
"Shall I call for the nanny?" Agnarr was just as clueless as his wife was when it came to a squalling baby. The newborn princess's tiny hands were balled into fists and her face was beet red. The snow in the nursery had started at the same instant the baby's crying had, and had grown stronger right along with it.
"I don't know!" Iduna wailed helplessly. "I didn't want to rely on the nanny!"
"It's not relying on the nanny if she's teaching us how to deal with… this!" The king said, speaking loudly to be heard over the baby's cries. The sight that met his eyes broke his heart: his beloved and exhausted wife cradling their newborn daughter in her arms, bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying to calm the hysterical child to no avail. The queen was pale and looked as though she was ready to drop any second.
Willing to try anything, the King of Arendelle found himself gently taking the less-than-one-day-old child from his wife's arms, awkwardly cradling her against his chest. The baby screamed louder and the snow billowing in the corners began to swirl into miniature tornadoes.
"Shh… shh…" Agnarr soothed, swaying back and forth while patting the child's back. "What's the matter, hmm? Do you know that I'm your father?" He gently kissed the fine, feathery blonde hair on the top of the baby's head and thought he heard her cries diminish slightly. "I'm your Papa and I love you, little Elsa."
The king continued to rock and sway around the room and soon the small movements turned into sashaying motions. "Shall we dance?" He asked his wee one. Making sure to hold his hand over the back of her head and neck to keep her in place, he executed a clumsy but complete twirl. The princess's cries receded into occasional hiccups and whimpers and her blue eyes started to flutter closed. The miniature snowstorms in the corners of the nursery began to dissipate.
Iduna leaned against one wall of the nursery, eyes wide, staring at the scene before her. Stately, regal and poised, King Agnarr of Arendelle was dancing around the nursery with their newborn baby daughter. Iduna wondered how much bigger her heart could swell before it would burst.
"She's asleep," Agnarr whispered as he waltzed past Iduna a few moments later. Sure enough, their little girl was fast asleep against her father's shoulder, a tiny spot of drool forming on the lapels of his jacket. The baby's long eyelashes feathered against her cheeks and she sighed in her sleep.
On his next pass, Agnarr whispered more urgently, "help! How do I get her into the crib?"