Chapter Three: A Visit to the Valley
Alphonse kept his breathing measured, timed to the beats of his staff against the stony ground, as he trekked by foot up the last of the mountain trail, his destination close enough to almost taste. He tried to remain calm as he felt the silken caresses of the wards surrounding the site, barriers that were meant to keep out those who might mean harm to its inhabitants. He came in peace, so they let him through, but his … unique skills made them flare up - a warning against foolishness.
Keeping his mind off of the wards, Alphonse thought back to last night. He knew what had been in the castle, what had most certainly tried to kill the princess. He knew of them all too well. What he didn't realize was why it had attacked her personally, why it and it's kind were rising now, of all times. If he wanted those answers, he had to find local wisdom.
Alphonse visibly relaxed as he passed through the last of the wardings and into the mists surrounding the valley. The Valley of Living Rock. He had never been here before, had never had a reason to come to the home of the rock trolls. He had destroyed rouge trolls before, but the rock trolls of Arendelle were supposedly peaceful, almost pacifistic in nature. Given that, perhaps they would choose to help him despite his reputation.
As he passed through the natural steam vents that surrounded the valley, Alphonse couldn't help but wonder why they lived so far from their human neighbors. Rumors had been spreading for years among the Ashlander community that the races had begun to integrate closer to man, for survival if nothing else. Perhaps they couldn't? Perhaps they had to remain apart, for the sake of their health.
Either way, it was less than ideal to have to travel so far just to find the, even if he had flown most of the way. The wards had only forced him to walk the last mile or so. Alphonse winced as he felt a familiar memory brush against his consciousness, relaying the lesson that had been seared into his memory: Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved. Alphonse shook his head and kept on.
Finally, he emerged from the surrounding mists into the Valley itself. Grass and moss grew across stone tiers that ringed the Valley, growing higher until they swept up into high cliff faces, providing protection and shade for most of the day. It kept the Valley cool while the steam vents kept it warm, a delicate balance so similar to the Beginning. More importantly, it kept the direct sunlight out for as long as possible, allowing the trolls to remain mobile for far longer than outside.
In addition to the tiers, the Valley was littered with moss-covered round boulders, arranged with seeming abandon that somehow brought to mind an abstract pattern. Alphonse grinned the shadow of his hood. Their hidden forms would divert any average human who wandered in by chance, but he had come here with purpose. And he was about as far from average as a human could get.
Alphonse gently lowered his hood, placing his staff and leather bag on the ground. There were formalities to consider when approaching more of the Ashlanders, those who Remembered the Time Before. Alphonse took a deep breath before beginning. "Noble Trolls, Children of the Earth and Born of Mountain, Tenders of Crystals. Hear me, I seek an audience with your chief in the name of the lost All-Father!"He lowered his arms and waited for the message to sink in, resisting the urge to pick up his staff should they be less-than-friendly. If the last sixteen years had taught him anything it was - well, pain. But patience was up there, too.
Finally, a single boulder rolled toward him from the depths of the Valley, settling at a distance that was both non-threatening and somewhat welcoming. The stone shifted and unfurled to reveal a diminutive humanoid figure with grey skin, his back and chest covered in a mane of grass-like hair and slate-grey eyes peeking out from bushy green eyebrows. The troll was clothed in attire woven from plant fibres, a cape of moss hanging from his shoulders and trailing behind him. Yellow crystals glowed from under his cape, hanging from necklaces.
"You are welcomed into the Valley, young Residuum," the troll chief answered. Alphonse nodded his thanks and lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the Valley floor, just above eye-level with the old troll. Without his realizing, a name drifted from the depths of his mind.
"Grand Pabbie," he greeted, "I have received a strong premonition, gifted of Insight. The draugr are stirring in the surrounding mountains after more than six centuries." The troll elder sighed and closed his eyes in dread.
"This is fearful tidings, indeed, Residuum. For some time I have felt a Moving Within the Earth. But I had feared to believe that the Moving could bear such fearsome creatures."
The troll chief's eyes flicked open as he registered the importance of one word. Insight. Pabbie's gaze flicked to Alphonse's, focusing on his eyes. He still had two, thank goodness, but their colors differed in a way that Pabbie could sense was not natural, nor from birth. His gaze darted to Alphonse's right hand, his practiced eyes perceiving the aura around it, a Mark of Sacrifice. He looked back to Alphonse's eyes, noting for the first time what they lacked. So that is what he gave up, the shaman thought sadly. The chief refocused on Alphonse himself, his examination taking less than a moment.
"You wish to know why the walking dead are stirring now, of all times?" he said, a statement rather than a question. The young man nodded an affirmative.
Pabbie turned and led the way to the middle of the Valley, the stones around them unfolding into his tribe, who watched with curiosity and a touch of wariness. Stopping in the valley's center, Pabbie turned to face Alphonse, and began waving his hands in gentle motions, the northern lights changing in time with his movements. The shaman was weaving the northern lights as an illustration to his story. Alphonse had to admit he was impressed.
"Two years ago," the old troll began, "a great event occurred around Arendelle during the coronation of its queen." Pabbie chuckled lightly. "The northmen, in their natural penchant for exaggeration, refer to it as the 'Eternal Winter', though in truth it lasted all of three days." The shaman's face became serious again. "The unnatural winter was caused by the queen of Arendelle, Elsa. She who was born with the ice magic of Old."
The figure of a woman appeared in the tapestry of the lights, trembling with fear. Alphonse thought back to his dream, of the woman singing on the mountain. He thought about watching her after the draugr attacked. Afraid? She had seemed anything but.
"The queen had little control over her powers, and the winter manifested from that lack. Held back for thirteen years, when it found a crack in her armor, the river spilled out like a tidal happened after that event.
"Elsa fled to the North Mountain and began learning about herself, attempting to come to terms with herself. Her sister Anna followed her, trying to bring her back. When Anna revealed to the queen the fate of her kingdom, Elsa reacted in fear and …" the troll paused to gather his composure, "and she unwittingly froze Anna's heart." Alphonse's eyes widened in surprise. That kind of curse was fatal, unless …
"Do not fret, Residuum, for the story has a happy ending," the shaman continued. "Anna was brought back to Arendelle by my grandson, Kristoff, while Elsa was returned after an attack by the visiting dignitaries. The winter grew worse in elsa's fear, but Anna was able to find her. The princess cast herself in front of a sword blow meant for the queen, her heart freezing solid in the process." Alphonse frowned. This was his definition of "happy"?
"And that act of true love, and Elsa's grief, thawed her heart and saved the princess. Elsa learned the key to controlling the power within her: love. Love that thaws." The lights faded away and Alphonse's mouth quirked at the happy ending, but that brief sentence scratched at his contentment. Only through suffering may wisdom be achieved. Alphonse shook it off and addressed the troll chief.
"Grand Pabbie, is the Eternal Winter the cause of the draugr Rising?" alphonse asked. Somehow that didn't seem right. The power of winter was not something used in to control things, especially dead things. Hel, it's what made things sleep. Pabbie thought before answering.
"I do not believe Elsa's struggle is the direct cause. The saturation of raw power during the event may have made it easier, but I doubt it is the true force behind it. I sense the work of another party here, a conscious one." The troll's face was grim.
Alphonse thought before revealing what he knew. "Last night, a draugr broke into the castle and attacked the princess." that was so strange for a draugr as to almost be ludicrous. Draugr were next to mindless beings, only concerned with their next meal. They didn't get picky. It just wasn't in their nature. That had to mean someone, or something, was controlling them. It was forcing a purpose upon them. "Pabbie," the young man asked, a hypothesis taking shape in his mind, "is there anyone who would mean the Arendelle royals … specific harm?"
Pabbie's eyes narrowed, knowing full-well what the young man was getting at. "During the Eternal Winter, princess Anna was engaged to a prince of the southern Isles, one Hans Westergard. It was a quick thing, and anna was both trusting and naive, drawn in by his charms. When Anna left to find elsa, she left Arendelle in his care. When she returned with her heart frozen, he revealed that he was going to kill elsa and seize the throne." The troll shaman seemed far more angry than Alphonse would have ever expected. "After the Great Thaw, Elsa sent Hans back to the Southern Isles in chains. And Anna has since married mt foster grandson, Kristoff." Pride warmed the troll's tone at that, then his expression turned grim.
"Hans is the most likely culprit to target the sisters deliberately. Not the only possibility, but it would not surprise me." Alphonse made sure to remember that and looked up to see the light fading. He needed to get back to the city, quickly.
"Thank you, Old One, for your wisdom," Alphonse said, grimacing at the formality. He didn't like calling someone old, especially someone that had helped him. "I have to leave immediately. I feel the castle will be attacked soon, and in greater numbers." Alphonse stood and replaced his hood. He looked down to Grand Pabbie in expectation.
The old troll grinned and raised his arms, fingers dancing. In the sky surrounding the Valley appeared a thick net of magic, similar to the northern lights. The wards that had forced him to walk up the mountain. Within the net grew a small hole, an opening. "Go now, Residuum. Go and fulfill your role in Fate," Pabbie said.
Alphonse focused inward and his form rippled, settling into a pitch black raven. The bird turned to regard Grand Pabbie and croaked before taking to the air, flying through the hole in the wards and toward the city.
As he flew, Alphonse thought over Pabbie's tale. It had had a happy ending, and that was good. But a small part of him felt sorrow, as it had only reinforced the motto. Elsa had suffered for years before she had learned control. And it was only through the crucible of that suffering that she learned. It seemed he was never going to escape the ties that had bound him to the path before him.
The raven swatted its head and flew on. He had work to do.
Tell me what ya'll think. Who is Alphonse and what is his work? Hope ya'll enjoy