Upon entering the sparse tree line that marked the border between the Valley of the Living Rock and the Northern Range, Kristoff found himself at least beginning to appreciate the mandated overnight nature of his 'diplomatic' trip.
He had not returned to the Valley for nearly a week by then (on account of official duties and later the catastrophic festival) and thus was quite relieved to be back among the gentle gorges and familiar geysers of steam. It had never quite occurred to him during his extended stay in Arendelle proper just how much he had missed the warmth of the trolls' grounds.
While spending time with Anna was a definite advantage of civilized life, Kristoff was undoubtedly a man of the wild. As the humid air thickened around the ice master, his muscles relaxed fully for the first time in what felt like forever and he finally managed to lay back in his gifted sled.
He was home.
The wheeled sled arrived at the troll's dwelling around noon. Sven's pace slowed considerably as he emerged onto the flat, circular terrain that served as a sort of all-purpose meeting area for the creatures, primarily because it was difficult for the reindeer to find anywhere to walk at all.
The expanse of dirt was swirling with scurrying masses of stone and moss - Kristoff's family preparing for his arrival. One of the younger trolls had seen the ice master on the edge of the surrounding forest and hurried back to organize the surprise, sending the community into hysteria as they tried to put together a feast for the human's grand return.
Off to one side, part of the camp was dedicated to cooking in large pots of conveniently-shaped stone. On the opposite end of the space, a group of the larger trolls tossed multicolored slabs around to each other before planting them into depressions in the ground in a unified rhythm, slowly building up a low, kaleidoscopic dining table. The little ones ran completed dishes from one half of the chaos to the other, only minimally spilling the contents as they deposited them onto the bar.
Sven was finally forced to come to an uncomfortable stop at the edge of the dense flow of moving rocks, unable to proceed. The trolls were so intent on their respective tasks that it took some time for them to even notice Kristoff at all.
Recognition finally came in the form of the same youth who had seen the ice master at the tree line not too long before. The small troll almost dropped the bowl he was carrying as he again spotted the man and shouted uncertainly.
"Um, Kristoff?"
Despite the nervousness in the small voice, the call cut through the chaos with a clear, tinny ring.
The entire Valley seemed to freeze at once as hundreds of rock-encrusted eyes looked up from their work.
And then the chorus began.
"Kristoff!"
"I'm almost done with the fifth batch of soup, let me just finish right up."
"We missed you, Kristoff!"
"Make a big seat for him - the biggest, right at the head of the table."
"It's so nice to see you again!"
"It's good to see you all, too," the ice master grinned back at his family. He climbed down from his seat at the front of the sled and started work on Sven's harness. While most of the older trolls continued their preparations, a wave of smaller rocks arrived at Kristoff's feet, excitedly waving their hands upwards to the bright midday sun.
After he had finally released the animal, the little ones began bouncing up onto both the mountain man and the excited reindeer two at a time. Miniscule hands clutched wherever they could, hugging on to the ice master and deliverer lovingly.
"You've been gone forever!" one of the tiny trolls said, attached to Kristoff's lower back.
"We thought you might've forgotten about us!" a squeaky voice added from one of Sven's legs.
"Of course I wouldn't forget about you," Kristoff said, wobbling slightly under the extra weight. "What's all of this?" he gestured as best as he could towards the rapidly assembling banquet before him.
"Feast!" a little one said simply at the ice master's feet.
"Ridgy saw you coming," another clarified. "We wanted to surprise you."
"Sven was too fast!" a loving declaration came from the reindeer's back.
"I sure could use a feast right about now," Kristoff replied happily. He gently shook his limbs and the trolls reluctantly jumped off of him and to the ground, looking back up expectantly. "I've got some food from Anna that we can add. It's in the trunk. Will you all help me get it?"
The little ones giggled, chanting, "Anna," joyfully as they skipped around the sled and set about unloading the packages.
Kristoff had only just turned to join them when he was interrupted by a stern tone against his back.
"Well you've been gone a while."
"I know, I know!" Kristoff cried an excuse, whirling around and kneeling in one swift motion to hug the female troll who had approached. Bulda returned his embrace, though her serious voice only continued closer to her adoptive son's ear.
"We were worried sick about you, Kristoff," she said. "A whole week? You've never been away from the Valley for a whole week before."
The ice master remained kneeling after the hug to address his mother.
"I'm sorry," he appealed to her frown. "I would have come back sooner, but something came up."
"Something?" Bulda asked. Suddenly, the troll's hard lips turned ever so slightly upward. "Would this something have something to do with Princess Anna?"
Now it was Kristoff's turn to look worried. "Well, kind of, but listen-"
"Oh! I figured that you'd move into the castle eventually, but I never thought that it would be so soon," the troll cut her son off, full-on grinning by now.
"It's not that," the ice master rolled his eyes. "This is serious."
"More serious than moving in together?" Bulda asked. Somehow, her smile got wider. "You know, if you would have just listened to us the first time you would have saved so much on the wedding, but-"
"No, no, no," Kristoff shook his head violently. "I'm not moving in, we're not getting married," the ice master's voice grew hushed as he leaned in closer to his mother and tried to express the true importance of his visit. "I'm here on a mission for Anna. Something bad happened. Something really bad."
All signs of playful excitement were gone from Bulda's face in an instant. "What's wrong?" she demanded in a whisper.
Kristoff looked around cautiously to make sure that no one else could hear. He waited for a few smaller trolls lugging a carton of assorted fruit to pass before he spoke.
"Arendelle Castle has been attacked," the ice master said gravely. "It was some guy calling himself the Dark Mage of the Western Isles."
"The Dark Mage?" Bulda repeated in utter confusion. "I... I thought that he was only in the legends."
"So did everyone else," Kristoff said. "But he's real, alright. I saw him myself..." he trailed off, his mind for a moment wandering to memories of the cloaked man atop the stage. "Anna thought that Grand Pabbie might know something. Where is he?"
"He's napping before the feast," Bulda explained quietly. "You'll have to wait until after to talk to him in private."
"Right."
"Um, Kristoff?" a miniscule voice peeped up from the ice master's side. Both mother and son looked over to see a young, embarrassed-looking troll standing nearby.
"Oh, I didn't see you there, Ridgy," Kristoff cheerfully greeted the short creature, no taller than the lowered waist of his kneel. "I hear you saw me earlier, though. Thanks for letting everyone know I was coming in."
"No problem," the tiny youth whispered bashfully.
"What's up?"
Ridgy rubbed his sides with each hand and looked to the ground. "Well, um, we... We can't get some of the boxes out of the trunk. They're, um, they're too heavy," he went on apprehensively. "The others sent me to tell you. Since I'm the, um, I'm the Messenger."
"The Messenger?"
"Ridgy became Grand Pabbie's assistant the other day," Bulda piped up from the side. "Grand Pabbie calls him the Messenger."
"Sounds prestigious," Kristoff cracked a smile as his mother finished and the young troll looked back up at him nervously. "I think I can help you out with those boxes."
"I'll go and wake Grand Pabbie," Bulda offered. "The food should be ready before too long."
"Great," the ice master gave his mother a reassuring, grateful nod as he stood. "Thank you," he said, and she returned his gesture.
Bulda scurried back into the crowd of adults, soon becoming invisible in the mess of stone and moss.
"Well," Kristoff turned back to the younger troll beside him. "Let's go and get those last few boxes, then?"
"Okay," Ridgy smiled weakly and led the way to the back of the sled with tiny, wobbly, unsure steps.
The ice master did not have to try very hard to keep up.
In thirty minutes time, the feast had begun in earnest. The cobbled dining table had been filled with a mixture of traditional troll fare and the gifts brought from the castle in typical beautifully unorganized fashion. The creatures huddled around the banquet eyed the food in hungry excitement from their dirt mound perches.
At the head of the table, Kristoff sat uncomfortably on his own miniature hill. Sven stood behind him, a furry head sticking out just over his friend's shoulder. To the ice master's left, a recently awakened Grand Pabbie reclined on a similarly massive throne; to his right, Bulda and Cliff waited expectantly for their son to dig in.
In fact, Kristoff looked around the long table and noticed that most of its occupants were staring at him in anticipation.
"Go on," Bulda urged.
"You're waiting for me?"
"Of course," Cliff answered matter-of-factly. "You're the guest of honor."
"Guest?" Kristoff raised an eyebrow and looked around. The perimeter of the table shook with eager nods. "Of honor?" his voice was met with another grand rustling.
"A representative of the royal family will not be disrespected," Grand Pabbie pitched in from the side with a concealed yawn. Opposite the wise troll at the table, Bulda shifted her weight proudly.
Perhaps, Kristoff thought, he should have been a bit more careful in telling his mother of the nature of his visit. She did tend to exaggerate.
"Oh, no, I'm not really-"
"That said," Grand Pabbie added with a wry grin and a wink, "I am quite hungry. What would you like to try first?"
Kristoff was unsure of how he felt about being a guest of honor, but he definitely knew that he felt uncomfortable under his entire family's impatient gazes. He took a scoop of something that looked edible enough - a sausage stew creation, maybe - with his stone spoon and slurped it down quickly.
"Yum," he said.
The table erupted. Plates were passed across its surface in unorganized squiggles, changing anxious hands several times before being emptied by the rough scrapes of rocky utensils. Competitive shouts came from every troll at the same time, asking for this or that to be passed - or rather tossed - and cheerfully condemning their neighbors for their poor manners.
The bowl of sausage stew was immediately snatched from right in front of Kristoff. Indeed, it seemed that his elite status had been forgotten just as soon as it had been bestowed upon him, but the ice master could not help but laugh as he struggled to get a few bites off of the next plate in the rotation.
He would not want it any other way.
The trolls' meal lasted for about an hour. By the time it was finished, the table had already begun to be dissembled by the quicker eaters to make room for dancing. Gradually, more and more heavy, full creatures hauled their share of rocks into the nearby woods and joined in the customary after-lunch celebration.
Soon enough, Kristoff was left alone with Pabbie at a considerably shrunken bar. The two of them watched the jovial display for a few minutes before the wise troll finally spoke up.
"Bulda said that Princess Anna sent you to speak with me," he said, his voice all but drowned out by the singing and movement of the merry carnival nearby.
"Huh?" Kristoff asked, remaining for a moment distracted by the other trolls. Once his lagging mind had finally processed the words, he turned slightly in the direction of the leader. "Oh, right, yeah. I need to talk to you," the ice master said, but his eyes were still continually drawn to the dancing rocks to his right.
Grand Pabbie puffed out his lower lip in a stifled laugh. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more private," he suggested. "Follow me. You too, Messenger."
"Messenger?" Kristoff asked as he shakily stood. Hearing his title twice, Ridgy bounced out from a crevice under the table that only he could have ever fit into and stood at his mentor's side. "Oh. Nice hiding spot."
The small troll gave his sides a thoughtful rub in response.
Grand Pabbie led his assistant and the ice master away from the central valley and up a few sharp inclines towards where the trolls had made their formal homes. Earthen huts sprouted up from the ground around them - some only tall enough to reach Kristoff's chest, others shorter - as they followed a twisted path to the back of the village.
At the end of the trail, Grand Pabbie's own home towered above the others, a stone dome draped with delicate moss weavings and decorated by several finely carved designs and windows. The dwelling looked at the same time ancient and supremely relevant; weathered and important.
Kristoff only had to duck slightly to enter the one-room establishment.
Despite its outward appearance, the hut was little more than a great meeting hall. Other than the tomes pushed tight against the walls in messy stacks and a small burrow to the side which was assumedly Grand Pabbie's sleeping arrangement, there were no signs that anyone actually lived there at all.
Ahead of the ice master, the two trolls sat down near the center of the room and faced inwards. Kristoff joined them on the packed dirt floor.
"This should be better," Grand Pabbie said in his peculiar cheerful yet serious tone.
"Yeah," Kristoff replied. "We're alright to talk now?" he glanced uneasily to the small troll sitting to the side and then back to his elder.
"The Messenger is to be trusted," Grand Pabbie assured the ice master. "Do not worry."
"I don't mean that," Kristoff looked again to the youth with a blush of embarrassment. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just," he turned back to Grand Pabbie, "this is grown-up talk."
"The Messenger is also to be respected," the wise troll declared. He exchanged a slight, knowing smile with his assistant before broadening his lips and addressing the ice master again directly. "In any case, you are but a child yourself, Kristoff."
Kristoff's face was a deep red and his eyes had fallen to the earth between them in meeting circle. "Sorry, Ridgy," he said pitifully.
"It matters not," Grand Pabbie waved his hand in dismissal of the teasing. "You have a message from Princess Anna."
"Yes," the ice master looked back up and stammered, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks. "Arendelle Castle was attacked four days ago by a man calling himself the Dark Mage of the Western Isles - like the one from the stories."
Grand Pabbie's eyes closed in consideration.
"He attacked on the night of that festival that I told you about last time I was home," Kristoff continued. "Anna thought that you might be able to help us figure out what he was doing there."
"I see."
"He had magic, Grand Pabbie," Kristoff hissed, but the wise troll remained concentrated and motionless. "Real magic. I saw it myself. He was throwing fireballs at the castle. He even set the entire queen's wing on fire."
"Is Queen Elsa alright?" Grand Pabbie asked, whispering out of a focused trance.
The ice master hesitated. "She tried to fight him, but he set off this huge explosion in the courtyard," he said, unable to resist looking down briefly at Ridgy's concerned expression as he made the announcement. "She's still healing."
Grand Pabbie nodded. He paused, a silent revelation crossing his mind. "And the Dark Mage was killed in this explosion, was he not?"
Kristoff pulled his head back in surprise. "How did you know that?"
"I see," the wise troll mumbled to himself. "Very interesting. Very interesting, indeed."
"What is?" Kristoff asked hopefully.
Grand Pabbie finally opened his eyes, revealing their learned depths to his audience.
"Daniel and the Dark Mage," he declared. "The Dark Mage's first appearance in the texts. You have heard of it, have you not?"
"Uh, I think so," Kristoff lied through gritted teeth and a returned blush. Honestly, the title sounded familiar - perhaps it was something Bulda had read to him as a child - but the ice master could not quite remember. "I mean, maybe," he added for safety.
Grand Pabbie chuckled lightly and gestured over to a corner of his home. At once, Ridgy jumped up and scampered over to the indicated wall. He rifled through books placed along the dirt and quickly found one to be satisfactory. Just as quickly as he had left, the tiny troll returned to the center of the room holding in front of him a volume almost as big as himself. He dropped it to the ground with a grunt and a thud.
The letters on the tome's face were unreadable to the ice master - relics of times and places long past much like the ancient work which they presided over. The runes seemed to be placed at random around an abstract collection of equally mysterious shapes that, to Kristoff, looked like it could just as easily represent a rising sun or a plate of eggs. Regardless of its odd cover, the book looked like it could fall apart at any moment - fragile under even the still quiet of the troll leader's home.
"A storybook from my youth," Grand Pabbie explained. He scooted closer and started flipping through the anthology's contents carefully. Finally, the wise troll arrived on faded illustration subtitled by some obscure runes. "Here it is. Daniel and the Dark Mage," he recited, leafing through the next few pages carefully and scanning the story within.
"Remind me what it's about again?" Kristoff prompted awkwardly.
Grand Pabbie did not look up from his reading as he spoke. "It tells of a knight corrupted by the Dark Mage's magic. I always thought that it was only a children's tale - some things are before even my time, you see, so I merely assumed..." he trailed off as he rapidly progressed through the story. Within moments, he had turned the page a few more times and finished. The wise troll finally looked up with an inquiry. "You say that you saw the Dark Mage yourself?"
Kristoff nodded, memories of the cloaked figure and roaring flames flashing through his mind for the umpteenth time in that day alone.
"I see," Grand Pabbie murmured, back to his thoughts. "He is supposed to have died at the end of the story, though I suppose that this is only the first tale of many written of his exploits in any case," he resolved. "There are many similarities."
"There are?"
"Yes," Grand Pabbie confirmed. "The fire magic, the castle attack, the mage's harm by his own hand - all elements of the story, all the same. Tell me, did you ever see the Dark Mage's face?"
"No, he was wearing this big robe," Kristoff answered, confused by the question. "It covered his whole body. Why?"
Grand Pabbie's forehead descended into illogical wrinkles of worry. "Another troubling similarity," he said. "In the legend, it is not the Dark Mage himself who attacks the kingdom, but his host - the knight I spoke of before, cloaked, only possessed by the mage."
It took a few seconds for the ice master to process what had been said. "You're saying that the Dark Mage at the castle could have just been someone else who was possessed?"
"If the similarities continue," Grand Pabbie nodded vaguely. For the first time in his life, Kristoff caught the wise troll looking unsure. "There is no doubt that he died in the explosion?"
"They found remains," the ice master whispered, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact from a now-shaking Ridgy below.
"The Dark Mage himself cannot be hurt by his own powers, you see," Grand Pabbie mumbled. "At least not outside of a mortal body. He must have had another host. It could have been anyone, in theory."
"If he was just possessing someone, then..." the ice master choked out in disbelief. "Does that mean he could come back again?"
Grand Pabbie's ensuing frown was one of defeat - an expression even more unfitting of the leader of the trolls.
"I have no knowledge other than what I have already told you," he confessed. "Again, I thought that the Dark Mage was merely a legend, I-"
"But what if he can?" the ice master's mouth hung open after his rapid speech.
To the side, Ridgy gasped in response to the improper display, but in the heat of the moment Kristoff did not care.
The mountain man's cheeks were colored now not with embarrassment but a different emotion entirely - some panicked cocktail of fear and frustration. Needless to say, the dread of being trapped in a slowly burning castle was fresh in his mind. "We have to do something before that happens! We have to figure out who that guy was - we have to figure out why he was there!"
Grand Pabbie let the loud echoes in the room settle themselves. As his own shouts faded from his ears, Kristoff knew that his surrogate grandfather had no power to help him.
Only after the ice master's shoulders had dropped in ashamed realization did the old troll speak again. "If Queen Elsa is still recovering, I can most likely assist in that," he changed the subject with a soothing tone. "Describe her injuries."
"The doctor said that the burns cover her entire body, but they'll heal soon," the ice master replied somberly. "Her right leg is broken."
"I see," Grand Pabbie said, quickly running through various possible cures in his head. Ridgy looked up to his mentor instinctively. "Crushed nuts from the mountainside should soothe the burns well enough. We'll need a golden petal to heal the leg, however."
The young troll barely murmured in agreement before rising from his spot on the ground and dashing out of the hut. Ridgy left a modest (though quite impressive given his size) haze of dust in his wake.
"He will be back by morning," Grand Pabbie commented once his assistant had left. "Then, at least, you can return to Princess Anna with some good news."
Kristoff did not respond for a while, staring down at the still-open book between him and the old troll.
"I'm sorry for yelling. I... I wanted to go back knowing who the Dark Mage was," he admitted the obvious pitifully to the exposed pages. "Anna's just been going through a lot lately - nothing she can't handle, I guess, but still... I wanted to be able to help for once."
"For once?" Grand Pabbie asked carefully.
"She's had to run the kingdom all by herself since the queen got hurt," Kristoff explained. "Royal dealings aren't exactly included in my area of expertise."
Grand Pabbie's smile was a sad ghost of its usual self. The ice master's was non-existent.
"And then there's this thing between them that she keeps talking about," Kristoff continued, surprising even himself with his candidness as he continued to watch the tome and let the words fall out of his mouth. "She's convinced that she can't understand her for some reason. She said that they 'see things differently' or something. I don't really get it myself and so I-"
"What did you say?" Grand Pabbie's voice sounded odd to the ice master when he interrupted - worried and hopeful at the same time. Kristoff's head jerked up in surprise to find the wise troll's brow illogically wrinkled in a nigh-unreadable fashion.
"I just don't really, uh, get what she means, so-"
"No, before that," Grand Pabbie stopped him again, sweeping his short arms through the air. "What did Princess Anna say?"
"Oh, she said it just like that - 'I see things differently than her'," Kristoff recalled their conversation in the library. "Weird, huh? I didn't think it sounded like Anna, either."
The shallow canyons on Grand Pabbie's forehead deepened. "I thought that this day may come," he whispered, almost speaking to himself before raising his voice to address the ice master properly as a half-smile stole across his lips. "Perhaps there is some other way that I may be able to assist you after all."
"What is it?" Kristoff was once again hopelessly confused.
"The sisters of Arendelle do see things differently, in a sense," the wise troll hinted cryptically. "They view the past through separate lenses, if you will. You know that more than most, Kristoff."
"I do?" the ice master asked. His uncertainty seemed to grow in proportion to Grand Pabbie's grin.
"You do remember the first time that you came to the Valley, do you not?"
How could Kristoff have forgotten? He had arrived with Sven late one night after following the royal family through the forest and been spontaneously adopted on sight. Bulda had been hiding when they met - watching as Grand Pabbie discussed with the royals the wrapped child that they had brought.
Kristoff remembered overhearing that the young princess had been struck by her sister's magic. He remembered gazing on in wonder as the troll's magical cure descended into the girl's forehead.
"That's why she sees things differently," the ice master stated breathlessly. "You removed her memories."
"Well, yes, but not exactly," Grand Pabbie said. Despite the gravity of Kristoff's accusations and the vagueness of his own speech, the old troll was still smiling.
"Huh?"
"Considering the danger that Princess Anna's temptation proved, I chose to suppress her memories of the magic until such a time that there was no longer the potential for... contagious recklessness," Grand Pabbie continued, his eyes distant but twinkling. "Particularly with Queen Elsa's control over her powers, I doubt the princess's proclivity for fun will be likely to endanger anyone now. You see, I only shielded the memories to be safe - nothing more."
Kristoff tried to piece it all together in his head and, for the first time, found relative success. "So her real memories are still there?"
"Yes. The magic distorting the images need only be removed. After that, Princess Anna will remember everything," Grand Pabbie took a breath. "Perhaps once the past is clear, the present will follow suit. Our viewpoints are but the sum of our memories, after all," the old troll muttered. "With the state of the princess's, it is unsurprising that she cannot see eye-to-eye with her sister."
"What do we have to do?" Kristoff asked eagerly.
"I should be able to handle the magic," Grand Pabbie replied. "I will need to see Princess Anna personally, of course. Are you able to bring her here?"
"It might take some convincing," Kristoff said, "but I have a feeling that after she hears what you just told me she won't be too stubborn about staying at the castle. Then again, you never really know with her."
The ice master and his grandfather exchanged a warm chuckle in the filtered afternoon light of the hut.
"I am sure that you will try your best in any case," Grand Pabbie tilted his head forward and squinted his eyes gleefully.
"Thanks, Grand Pabbie."
The old troll dismissed the recognition with a wave of his stone hand as he rose from the dirt and started hobbling over to the front door, leaving the storybook open on the ground behind him.
"Come now," Grand Pabbie told the ice master over his mossy shoulder once they had reemerged onto the village path. Kristoff followed him in an awkward crouch out of the dwelling. "There should still be a few places at the dance."
"It's been over an hour," the ice master looked up at the west-bound sun.
"Surely they haven't stopped without the appearance of the guest of honor," Grand Pabbie teased in response, but Kristoff did not join him in the resultant laughter.
"I hope you don't really think like that," the ice master said quietly. "You know I'm not a guest, right? You're my family, and this is my home. That's never going to change, okay?"
Only hints of the wise troll's chortling remained.
"Do not worry, Kristoff," Grand Pabbie said. "There may come a time when you leave the Valley, but I think we all know that that day is not today. Today, you may be our guest of honor only in jest," he paused, looking up sideways to make warm eye contact with the ice master as they walked. "Now we had better sped things along. We wouldn't want to miss more than we already have."
Kristoff grinned instantaneously, soothed already by the reassuring gaze.
"If you insist!"
The mountain man suddenly scooped his grandfather off of the crowd with an arced arm and went barreling down the path, the old troll held securely against his chest.
Grand Pabbie chuckled heartily as the wind buffeted his face. "That's more like it!" he called.