They tore down the steep hill faster than safety would recommend, taking little care to watch their steps as they ran over large rocks half hidden in the tall, ever snagging grass. Elsa dared not to look back, fearful that the saving visage before her eyes was a fleeting dream, a mirage that would disappear when looked at a second time. Tears began to gather in her eyes, a mixture of utter delight that their problems were over and the stinging wind drying the resolutely open bulbs.
"Please, wait!" cried a small voice behind her, its identity undistinguishable in the roaring wind. Instinctually knowing it was Agust, unable to keep up on his lame leg, she slowed her pace and memorized the growing town before her eyes. It was so crisp, so clear, so real—it had to be real because she willed it to be real. Finally tearing her eyes away, she turned back around and hiked back to the miserable Agust.
However, she shot a glance over her shoulder every so often to reaffirm the town had not disappeared. A thrilled and relieved sob escaped her throat as she found the town the same as she left it. Just like the irrepressible, gaping smile on her face, the town wasn't going anywhere.
Hans tore past her as she made her way back to Agust near the top of the bluff, who was shakily leaning backwards to counterbalance the urge to fall forward and hesitantly poking and scooting with his crutch like a blind man, and made no signs of slowing. She glance over her should as the lean man bolted and slid down the hillside, and her smile took a queasy turn, fearing what first impression he'd make on the natives.
"I'm coming, Agust!" She called, breath heavy as she forced herself to ascend the nearly vertical hillside. Her calves already ached and sides thick thanks to the overly ambitious strides with which she'd started climb. But Agust was her only subject, and she wasn't going to abandon him in his time of need.
As she began to slip in the slick, blowing grass, a strong, rough hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back up. Somewhat startled, she turned to see it was Hans.
"Need some help?" he asked, a amused half smile on his face.
"Oh, thanks." She said, steadying herself and unwinding her arm from his. "I thought you'd be down there by now."
"It's not like the town is going anywhere." Hans said, sounding for the first time like an adult. Elsa blushed, suddenly feeling childish for thinking the town was a manifestation that would disappear. "And it'd be best if all three of us showed up at the same time. We don't want the town to think were separate groups, because in trying times like these they would assume we are enemies."
"And we're not enemies?" Elsa asked. She should've felt bad as a hurt look flashed across Hans's face, but the question was too truthful to go unaddressed. Thinking about it paired with the frustration at the situation, however, flared up the old anger. "You've tried to kill me and my sister, Hans, lied to Anna about love, and tried to take over my kingdom. And just yesterday you tried to strangle me during the storm. You may say your trust me, but how am I to trust you?"
Hans self-pleased smile fell into a parted frown, tasting the sea air for flavorful words. But none came. He was embarrassed and unable to respond. His brows furrowed and hazel eyes searched hers, finally dropping to the ground.
Her interrogation was ended before it begun, however, for Agust yelled over the wind, "Well are you two just going to stand there or come and help me?!," frustration overpowering his desire to respect his queen.
"We're coming, Agust," Elsa called back, turning from the fazed prince and continuing on her way back to the lame sailor. "Just laying down the line." She muttered to herself. This town would end her need to partner with Hans. She would no longer have to rely on his help or feel indebted to him. And once they got back to Arendelle…she blushed with shame at the somewhat backstabbing thought, but the law was law. He was a prisoner, charged with treason, conspiracy, and attempted regicide. He was lucky to still have his life.
"You'll just have to." Hans spoke softly from behind. But she gave him no indication that she heard. "And make sure you don't use your powers, it might scare the natives. Don't want a repeat of what happened in Arendelle."
She looked back at him with a scoff, which he answered with a forced grin.
XXX
After what felt like forever, four times longer than it would've taken the two of them, Hans, Elsa, and their child Agust finally entered the boundaries of the town. So of course, true to his nature, Hans dramatized their entrance with a call of,
"HELP!"
He looked around for people, sure to find someone working outside this time of day.
"Help us, please! My friends are injured!"
From around an old goat barn ran a thick, bearded man. "What is it?!" he yelled before even setting his eyes on them, but when he did, he exclaimed, "Good gracious, what happened!? The costal farmer ran to them. As he approached, Agust gave into his weariness and crumbled to the ground and Elsa began to cry with relief.
"Miria, come quick!" the farmer called to his wife, evidently inside the house.
"What on earth is wrong, Isaac?" a stout woman called, emerging from the home still washing a dish in her hand. "Oh goodness!" The dish dropped and clattered to their windworn porch. She hoisted up her apron dress and quickly joined them.
"Our ship was caught in a storm." Hans panted, struggling to support Agust's dead weight. The farmer noticed this immediately and took the dazed boy in to his hands. "We managed to survive in a small boat, and then washed up here."
"Here come inside, dears." The farmer's wife said, grabbing hold of the sobbing, inaudible queen. "You poor thing, you're alright now. It's going to be okay."
"Where are we?" Hans asked the farmer, finally beginning to feel his own weariness and fatigue set in.
"Hah, you're in Eofar." He responded with a gruff smile. "And though you probably don't feel it, seeing what state your lot is in, you are very welcome." The man continued talking, explaining the location of the island and its trade and asking questions about who they were and how they ended up here. Hans was barely listening and answered mechanically, tired and dying to lie down anywhere in the warm home; but he kept just enough of his wits to mask the nature of the voyage and his prisoner identity.
Before he realized it he was sitting on a semi-soft sofa in a little living room of sorts with a scratchy, but comforting wool blanket draped over his sore shoulders, and a cup of hot broth in his hand. Elsa sat adjacent of him in a grandfather chair, a with a somewhat softer looking quilt wrapped around her and a cup of the soup almost forced into her trembling hand. A half conscious Agust was placed beside him with the man of the house doing all he could to wake the poor boy up. The house was pain and uncluttered, but cozy nonetheless. Hans pressed the cup to his own lips and greedily drank the thin, scalding, yet comforting liquid. He noticed that his own hand was trembling.
"I'm sorry that's all I can offer at the moment, dears." Miria said shyly, wiping her hands on her apron as she handed another cup to her husband, who tried to get the stirring, sweating Agust to drink it. "You caught us unawares. I was only preparing enough supper for two, but I can make more." Looking at her now hungrily grimacing husband. "It'll be a few minutes."
"Thank you." Elsa whispered hoarsely from her cup. "You both are so kind. My kingdom will repay you for your aide."
"Kingdom?" Miria asked, mystified with eyes wide. "Your kingdom? You don't mean you're…?"
"Royalty?" her husband finished, mouth agape.
"Yes," Elsa replied awkwardly, eyes focused on the decreasing liquid in her cup. "My name is Elsa. I am the queen of Arendelle. Like Hans here said, are ship came across a storm while we were on a diplomatic mission." She glanced at Hans and he nodded in thanks for not divulging his prisoner status. Though even if she had, there was no way the elderly couple could prevent him from escaping. "As far as I know," Elsa continued, "we are the only survivors."
"I am so sorry." Miria replied, kneeling beside the trembling Queen in awe and hesitantly taking her hand.
"Please," the queen begged, finally looking up from her steaming soup. "I need to return to my kingdom. Our fleet was due back in two days. The country will be in turmoil if they think I am dead."
"Well, we can't allow you to leave just yet!" Miria protested. Han's instinctually narrowed his eyes, suspecting betrayal. His face blushed with internal embarrassment as the elderly woman sympathetically continued, "You all need to rest! You'll catch your death if you head out in this state. No, what you need is a good night's sleep and a home cooked meal. Then in the morning, you all can head down to the port. I think I have heard of your kingdom before. It's a seafaring country on the continent, correct? Either way, they'll be able to help you get to Arendelle."
"Sounds good to me." Hans replied lazily, downing the rest of his broth.
"But my people…" Elsa mumbled, tears in her eyes. "I can't bare Anna thinking I'm dead."
"They'll live." Hans replied scornfully, wanting nothing more than to rest in a nice home for a few days before jumping onto another boat. But then in a gentler tone, he continued, "Ships never arrive right on time, with the winds and weather being unpredictable. There's a marginal error of a day or two. And look at Agust, does he seem like he's fit to hop on a boat and sail for the next few days?"
Agust murmured what sounded like an agreement, groggily drinking the steaming contents of his cup now without the aid of Isaac.
"See?" Hans declared, cocking his thumb at the boy. "Sorry, your highness. It's four against one. And you've got no authority here."
"Right." Elsa replied thinly. "Because it's Hansland."
"No, you're mistaken." Isaac interjected. "It's called Eofar."
If Han's hadn't finished his broth, the hot liquid would have burned through his nostrils.
XXX
After finishing the welcomed meal, the old couple rushed the three of them off the bed. There was one little guest room in the attic, the contents of which indicated it was once the room of a child. Elsa, now garbed in a clean, airy nightgown, stood by the tiny little iron bed with a faded, moth eaten pastel quilt and fought the urge to throw herself down. Miria was still in the room (along with Hans and Agust, who looked like they would be her roommates for the night) and she didn't want to lose what shred of dignity she had left.
She had been so overcome with relief that the reality of the tragic, terrifying, and taxing events finally hit her. Dozens of her men had died in the north sea, she was lost on an island, and Arendelle would be soon in chaos without its lost ruler. The prospect of a kind village being able to take care of her and meet all her needs gave her weakness the room it needed to wallow. She had cried like a victim rather than mustering the strong resolve of a survivor.
She looked at her palms, shaking and numb from internal cold. She couldn't let that weakness, that fear, show through again.
"Here you go, my dears." Miria said with a relieved huff as she dropped a stack of musty blankets and pillows to the dusty floors. "Sorry about the condition of the room, my daughter's been out of the house for nearly twenty years now. She married the butcher's son, they would come by to purchase our goats when they stopped providing milk." She stopped talking, realizing she was rambling, and began to anxiously wring her hands. "I hope you all get rested up. I don't mean to make you feel kept here. If you really want to, you can head down to the docks and seek passage back to your kingdom like you said. But what you need now is rest."
"Yes," Elsa agreed quietly, firmly grasping clasping her hands together and turning back to the aging woman with a grateful bow. "Thank you, Miria. I promise to repay you for your kindness."
"Hah!" Miria laughed, an embarrassed blush spreading across her face. "A Queen in debt to humble goat farmers, bowing to me even! Never even dreamed of hosting bluebloods in my house."
"You're a lucky woman." Hans quipped with an insincere smile as he pulled the comfiest looking blanket from the bundle and flopped onto a few pillows. He had no choice but to sleep on the floor, for Miria had instructed her and the young sailor to sleep in the beds.
Agust, in his near delirious and maimed condition, had been laid on a musty cot on the other side of the room. His soft snores were a relief to hear; Elsa had been quite frightened by how suddenly fatigue had claimed him. The poor boy must have been a lot worse off than even he had let on. Her face burned with shame as she recalled how poorly she'd treated the loyal lad the past two days.
"Her blood is bluer than others. Some would say it's so blue that it could be froz—!"
"Hans!" Elsa exclaimed, feeling an ice cube form and crack between her palms. Miria looked at her, startled. "Err, please," Elsa stammered, heart racing as she tried to smooth over her panicked outburst. "Don't call or treat me like royalty. This isn't my kingdom. Here, I am just Elsa."
"No problem, Elsa." Hans emphasized mockingly, groggily pulling a pillow over his head. Elsa's blood boiled at the prince's moodiness, and she fought the urge to her the block of ice in her hand at his covered head.
"I wasn't talking to you." She hissed under her breath as she climbed into the little bed.
"You darlings get some sleep." Miria cooed as she exited the room. "We'll let the sailors down at the port know about your plight. You don't have to worry about anything now, we'll take care of you."
Elsa closed her eyes, exhaustion pounding every inch of her body and mind. But the sleep was welcome and long overdue, and she wore a smile on her face as she drifted off into a deep afternoon slumber.
XXX
Elsa awoke very confused. Bright light peeked through the seams of the thick curtains covering the small attic window. Her body was heavy and sore, but something in her mind told her it was time to get up. Slowly pushing herself up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked around her bedroom and nearly had a heart attack.
This wasn't her royal chamber!
Panicking, she attempted to get up and run to the door, but, as her body was moving slower than her thoughts, she came crashing onto something both soft and hard.
"Ow!" She exclaimed, brain foggy and eyes trying to focus around the swimming black dots.
"Ow." Echoed a tenor voice echoed grumpily, as a form beneath blankets and pillows pushed her off. She recoiled in sudden fear, heart still pounding, and held shaking hands before her. The air around them was cold and dense, and frost gathered at the tips.
"Hans?" she balked, as the auburn covered head popped out from the blankets.
"Elsa?" Hans mimicked with a throaty growl, eyes narrow and shooting daggers.
Hans. Of course. The memories came rushing back to her, seizing her heart with sudden disappointment that she almost failed to master.
"How are you?" she attempted to ask calmly, slowly molding her defensive stance into a sitting position.
"Other than waking up with two knee sized bruises on my back in some damn heifer-whatever island, I'm great." He threw the blanket back his messy tangle of locks and burrowed back into his pile of warm fluff.
"What time is it?" She asked nervously, glancing at the heavily curtained window.
"Don't know." Came an annoyed, muffled reply.
She stood slowly, body aching and shivering in the loose night gown, and she moved to look out the window. Throwing open the curtains, she filled the dark attic with brilliant afternoon light. Agust groaned from the other side of the room, tossing in his bed to shield his eyes.
Blinking in the blinding light, Elsa looked up at the sun high above. It had to be between noon and three. "It's high noon." She whispered to herself, then turning to the whining boys, "How is it noon? It feel like I slept forever."
"It is noon." Came a low chuckle from the other side of the door. It opened slowly, revealing a merry Isaac. "Just not yesterday's, or the day before that."
"What?" Elsa asked, taken aback. "Not yesterday's or the day before that? You mean, we slept for two whole days? This can't be!" She began to fret, pulling at her now nasty mess of salty, greasy hair. "I was supposed to be on my way back to Arendelle yesterday!"
"Yes, about that." Isaac replied sheepishly, looking to the side and rubbing the back of his neck. "I went down to the port the evening you folk got here to line up your voyage, let them know your predicament and what not."
"And?" Elsa demanded as he paused, coldness creeping through her insides.
"I'm sorry, your highness, but all our boats fit for that distance are out at sea. It'll be about a week before any make it back to our waters."
"A week?" she cried, the coldness gripping her heart and yanking it in the billowing storm of despair below. "An entire week." She collapsed onto the bed behind her. "Oh Anna…"
"It's alright, dear." Isaac said uncomfortably. "We will still be able to get you back. I know you're worried about your people, but it'll be alright." As Elsa began to cry he edged out the room, disappearing with a, "Miria!"
Two whole days. How had she slept for a whole two days?! She tried to think, to remember. She had to of eaten, of used the bathroom? The memories came back to her as foggy disproportioned dreams. Light taps on her arm, warm, thick gruel steaming in a bowl on her lap, being carried out of the room. She pressed her temples in frustration. She was thankful to the goat farming couple, but having to wait here another week? She couldn't handle thinking about the chaos her unannounced absence would bring.
"Seven days." She wept, dropping an oily face into her hands.
"Elsa?" Hans asked, peeking from under his covers.
"Ah, yes, Hans?" she asked, wiping her eyes in embarrassment. She'd forgotten the prince was hiding under there.
"Could you please close those damn curtains?"
XXX
Miri and Isaac informed them that the owner of the port's wife was expecting them. Her name was Margery and she had agreed to lodge the shipwrecked trio until her husband's expedition returned. As much as Miria doted on the queen and Isaac took pride in hosting royalty, the little farmers couldn't afford or spare the room for three more adults.
"We'll walk you down to Margery's house." Miria added, as Isaac explained the situation. "You'll be quite comfortable down there, nice open rooms and the sea right outside your window. She's used to hosting the crew, so she has plenty of space and food for your lot."
"Thank you, both of you." Elsa replied, sincere tears in her eyes. "When we do get home, I will send my thanks. You saved our lives."
"Oh, you're too kind." Miria blushed, glancing away with a wide smile. "We only did what descent people ought to."
Making their way into town, Elsa began to feel self-conscious of her appearance. She had no other clothes beside the tattered gown, which she had insisted on wearing. She didn't want to take any more advantage of the goat herder's hospitality. But the gown was quite disgusting and itchy against her skin. And she was in desperate need of a bath. Glancing at a half sneering, half amused Hans and the still limping and all too quiet Agust, she realized they looked no better. This observation did not improve her vanity.
Entering the little seaport was like stepping into a painting. The sloping town was neat and clean, with the cool, breezy air tasting of salt and flora. A sandy, gray gravel road wound its way downhill to the sparkling blue sea, framed by craggy trees just dropping their long held magenta flowers and spindly costal grass. All the homes were tapered but tall, made completely of white stucco and washed stone. Colorful windows glinted in a variety of mosaic colors, some shut tightly as their tenants roamed the outdoors, while others remained opened to the fresh sea air rolling in from fyord's port, their bright glass winking at the group as they passed by. But they were not the only ones to give attention. People were bustling about doing their daily work and errands, sweeping the narrow, shady alleys between homes, trimming the vegetation, patching the slate roofs.
They did this quietly, obviously all too familiar with both the routine and one another, but as Elsa's group passes through their work came to a standstill. The hammers stopped banging, the scratching of the brooms halted mid dust cloud, the clippers remained threateningly open around the neck of an untamed bud.
"Good afternoon, Gerald." Miria chirped, enthusiastically waving at the nearby hedge trimmer. "How do you do?"
His eyes flicked to the plump, merry women then back to Elsa, mouth agape. "Beth, Beth!" He called to the house without looking back. "She's here!" Dropping the hedge clippers from his hand, he hastily pulled the cap from his head and held it to his chest in a small bow.
Hearing pounding through the open window, Elsa saw the top of a blonde head tear by, emerging in full form second later through the flung open door. A young girl about the age of ten padded bare foot down pavestones, a bouquet of carefully strung wildflowers in hand.
Her eyes were wide as her father's smile, but before crossing the gate she came to a halt. She nervously glanced at her father.
"Go on," Miria breathed, "you don't get a chance to meet royalty every day!"
She looked back to Elsa, whose own face was burning red with embarrassment. She fought the urge to not glare at Miria. Clearly the old woman had been very excited to brag about their arrival.
The girl named Beth approached cautiously, eyeing Elsa with both admiration and suspicion. With a small, giggly smile she handed Elsa the bouquet.
"That's all you brought her?" Hans demanded. The crass joke startled the poor girl; her face dropped in horror as she looked at him, fearing she insulted the queen.
"Hans!" Elsa scolded, uncomfortable with all the people staring. The stems in her hand began to grow brittle as frost seized at their throats. "Thank you, Beth." Elsa said kindly, dropping down to her knees on eye level with the young girl. "They are almost as lovely as you. I realize my appearance may have caught you off guard, but it's been a rough couple of days. I wish I had had a gift to give you, but this will have to do." She reached into the folds of her dress, pretending to retrieve a trinket from some disclosed pocket, and quickly formed a little pendent.
"Here you go." Elsa said with a smile as she dropped the crystal into the girl's warm palm. "A part of Arendelle, from me to you."
The girls eyes went wide as it made contact with her skin. "It's cold!" she whispered in amazement.
"Yes," Elsa mused, adopting a playful grin. "It's from an enchanted castle on top of the North Mountain. Some say a snow queen lives there and that she freezes solid all who enter her domain." Hans snorted, but she ignored him.
"How did you get it?" The little girl inquired, holding it close to her face, the brilliant gem bending little rainbow into her eyes.
"I climbed the mountain and met the snow queen of course." Elsa replied simply. "And you know what? The stories weren't true. She was actually really nice. She created the crystal for me with her own powers. Though it will never melt, she promised it would stay as cold as ice forever."
"Woah." Beth gasped, cradling the little treasure in her palms.
"Yes, then we all sang uplifting songs and practiced archery." Hans interjected for the second time. "It was quite an experience." Beth glanced at him, somewhat annoyed and confused.
"Beth!" her father chided, sentences of scolding carried in the single tone.
"Thank you, Queen Elsa!" she chirped, dropping into a low curtsy. "Please enjoy your stay in Eofar!"
As they broke away from the small family, Elsa was pleased to hear the girl laugh happily and begin to babble about the story the she spun for her. But she was more pleased to feel her heartbeat return to normal with each passing step.
XXX
They made their way through the town, passing through a lively, quaint little market circling at the center—more people dying to give Elsa their family heirlooms and prized goats—and, after what would have been a relatively brisk fifteen minute walk, finally arrived at the ports an hour later. Hans sighed impatiently, both body and mind tired. The old couple had exhausted all his patience the second they started fawning over Elsa like some perfect angel.
She didn't even look pretty right now. He stifled a laugh as he glanced at her tattered, muddy dress, her hair hung down in matted strands, blowing carelessly in the wind. She looked strong, athletic, wild. "Pretty" was a lie, and it undermined all they'd been through.
No, Elsa wasn't pretty. She was resplendent.
But these low folk, they tokenized her every gesture and movement, her every smile and glance as their "little treasures" for they would ever get the chance to "entertain royalty" ever again. To them she was a frail, poor little queen incapable of surviving on her own, completely reliant and at their mercy. And they ate it up.
He seethed at every greedy flash that crossed their faces as they thanked her for the promises of rewards. He and how Agust were invisible servants next to her glory. If these people were truly sincere about wanting to help them, they would be fawning all three of them, not just the proclaimed blue blood. He huffed, a sardonic smile twitching on his faith for the millionth time in disbelief at their hypocrisy. If they only knew the truth about their precious visitor.
At one point in the market he had noticed some young women glancing at him, their giggles and whispers half hidden under large bonnets. He briefly entertained the idea they were eyeing him, but upon reflecting on his outward appearance, his cynicism replaced his ego. He could've told them all he was a prince, he could've eaten up the praise and love like Elsa, but something in him had reserved that knowledge.
Instead, he had pointed the gaggling group out to Agust.
"Agust, I think they're looking at you." He had said.
"What?!" Agust fumed, looking from the pretty girls back to Hans, incredulous. "You think I'm interested in love at a time like this? I'm busted up, failing to protect my queen, and we already could have died over a hundred times!"
To which Hans replied with dramatic flourish: "The teen angst!"
He swallowed, both uncomfortable and unable to name the emotion these experiences created. Was it fear? Would Elsa report his deeds to the people, would she leave him behind to stay locked up in heifer-ville forever? Out of her life and free flowing hair forever? He wouldn't blame her if she did, but it was not a fate he wished upon himself. So he decided it would be best to remain low, play the servant and let her call the shots from here on out. Perhaps if he was a good little "prisoner" he would have chance to gain his freedom once they got back to Arendelle. Ideally with the queen's won over help.
Finally, they arrived at the this Margey's seaport home. It was a large stucco building built on stone and stilts as what would be the deck morphed into a long docking bay. It was chilly down by the water, and Hans shivered remembering the near freeze he died from three week ahead of him. Though as Elsa's loyal servant, he muddled, he would most likely have to accompany her everywhere as opposed to sleeping the days away in the sunny grass. He was sure the other half of the town and then some would demand to see her at least once before the week was up.
"Here we are!" Isaac announced, lumbering up the warped stairs to the inn's front door. "Margery!" he called, knocking on the paint chipped white door with enthusiasm. "They're here!"
"Oh, just a moment!" a heavily accented female voice called. "I just have to—!" a small crash sounded out the creaking shutters. "Well, shit! Okay, well, okay. Abbie, forget the biscuits and clean this up please! I'll get the door!"
Hans recoiled as the door flew open with the force of the mad woman behind. "Hello!" she bellowed excitedly, clean white teeth shining brilliantly against her dark face. "Um, hello." She corrected, adopting a manor of a proper host, a host that was unaware her guests had heard the chaos up unto this point. Or simply chose to believe so. "Queen Elsa, I am honored to host you and your servants here at my inn. My name is Margery Kristensen. Please, come in."
She stepped back, opening the door wide and beckoning them in with a pump, yet strong arm. They walked in, giving polite thanks and what not and were ushered into an empty mess hall. As they passed through, Hans glanced towards a slightly swinging door leading to the kitchen. He saw a tan girl on all fours quickly sweeping up broken glass and mopping a juicy liquid with a rag. She took extra precaution not to get it on her lilac dress, and a few flowers fell from her black hair as she worked with haste.
Hans rolled his eyes. Yet another fan girl to fawn over the almighty queen.
"Here sit down, sit down!" Margery boomed, pulling out newly polished chairs from the long tables. "Please, make yourselves at home, my girl Abbie and I will be right out with supper."
She disappeared through the swinging door, only to reemerge half a second later. "No one is allergic to anything, I hope?" She received blank stares. "Good!" then disappeared behind the door mid-swing.
"Well, actually—!" Hans called mischievously, only to get elbowed in the ribs by Elsa. He laughed at her frustrated attempts to control his childishness.
"Hans, please!" Elsa hissed at him, voice low in hopes of keeping the still lingering Miria and Isaac from hearing. Apparently the two goat farmers were staying for supper as well. "Would you stop being so rude? If you've forgotten, these people are helping us!"
"Umm, your majesty." Agust interrupted with soft worry. "I'm allergic to strawberries. Do you think—?"
"Ugh, Agust!" Elsa groaned. "Why didn't you tell her? Just, just go tell them okay?"
"Yes, your majesty." He replied sheepishly, pushing himself up and limping with a new pair of crutches Isaac crafted for him towards the door.
"Oh, shoot." Elsa muttered. "I forgot his leg…" She made to stand up and stop him, but Hans caught her around the arm. "Just let him go. He can't be totally reliant on his parents."
"What?" Elsa balked. Her bewilderment was cut short by the two farmers attempting to make small talk.
"So what do you think of Eofar, Elsa?" Isaac asked, putting his arm lovingly around his wife. "The people here are very welcoming. Don't be afraid to go out and visit them."
"Oh, they would love that, wouldn't they?" Miria mused, rubbing his protective arm.
"Yes, it was very nice. You all are very nice." Elsa replied awkwardly, turning from Hans and attempting to check her rising anger. Already bored, Hans glanced back and watched Agust struggle to limp away. He chuckled to himself; the crutches Isaac made were just a bit too tall.
"And do come to visit us, if you have the chance." Miria continued, jealous of losing the queen's company. "Just because we couldn't host you doesn't mean we want to be absent of you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Elsa laughed lightly, though her response unfortunately sounded genuine. Agust just arrived at the kitchen door.
"So what do you plan on doing this week?" Isaac asked. "Because we could probably pull something together as a town, throw you a little celebration to make the time pass quicker."
"Not that we want you to leave!" Miria interjected. "But we know you're eager to get home to your kingdom and family." Agust was now struggling to open the door. Hans entertained the idea of yelling to the dumb boy that you had to push it. But then he decided there were some things a man needed to do for himself. Like figure out how to open a door.
"Oh, that would be lovely." Elsa commented, glancing downward at her closed palms. "But I don't need the attention."
"Oh, it wouldn't be anything to crazy." Isaac insisted. "Just a little get together, something for you to remember us all by. Maybe it would serve to paint this whole adventure in a happier light."
"Maybe…"
Agust finally figured out how the door worked.
"Oh, then it's settled!" Miria exclaimed excitedly. "We'll talk to Margery, let Rudolf and Gallia know, they'd be willing to provide meat. Oh we should probably talk to Hannah, she's good at organizing these kinds of—!"
Agust had just begun to push the door open when the full force of a slender girl backed into it with trays upon trays full of steaming food. The two collided in a loud, awful, completely delightful crash that sent them and everything in hand to the now not so gleaming wooden floor.
And then Hans burst out laughing.
Apology upon apology bumbled from the two of them as they collected their wits.
"I am so sorry!" the girl in the now stained lilac dress professed, gathering the broken pieces in embarrassment. "I ruined everything."
"No, no!" Agust insisted, pushing himself into a sitting position with a wince and attempting to help her clean their tag-team mess. "It's my fault. I'm not used to working with these things." Their hands touched by accident.
"What?" the girl looked at him for the first time. A dark blush spread across her tan face. "Oh, you poor thing." She murmured sympathetically. "I am so sorry. Here, let me help you up."
"Oh, thank you." Agust stammered with a blush. "I'm Agust. I would've preferred to not meet like this, but what's done is done. Your name?"
"Abbie." She said with a brilliant smile, absent mindedly fixing a flower in her hair as she glanced away. She then dropped back down to pick the rest of the mess up, attempting to hide her beaming, girly smile.
"Um, Abbie?" Agust asked, panic suddenly in his voice. "What is this red stuff on me?"
"Oh!" Abbie exclaimed, looking at him in embarrassment. "Those are strawberry preserves. They were for the pound cake. Sorry about that."
"Strawberries!"
"Oh, heavens!" Margery cried, running out of the kitchen. "The food!"
And that's when the whole incident stopped being so amusing to Hans.
XXX
"Miss Elsa," Margery called, waking her from dazed sleep. "or Queen Elsa, I suppose you are to be called. I washed your dress for you."
Elsa rose from the bed she'd been granted. It'd been a day since she'd arrived at Margery's inn, and though the townsfolk insisted on seeing her every moment she'd finally escaped to take a nap. Much to Hans's and Agust's delights. The prince protested every minute they were out, and Agust ached to be at the inn doing who know what. He was always up in his room, most likely resting his leg. But the townspeople were wonderful, proved once again by Margery's kindness in cleaning her dress. Brushing the starchy, white summer dress that a tailor had gifted her upon seeing her tattered rags, she smiled gratefully at her kind hostess.
Her pleased smile fell into a grimace upon seeing the sorry excuse for a royal travel gown held up in the woman's black hands. The thick, blue velvet was washed out from the saltwater and was worn in around the legs, arms, and backside areas, exposing large patched of thin white mesh that normally secured the expensive fiber. The gold patchwork on the bust had unraveled, the wiry threads tight and loose, often broken and falling from the stitch work irregularly, bunching up material unseemingly. The train was completely torn off and a large cut ran up the right side seam (thanks to Hans), exposing slightly decomposed and grayed under skirting. What was left of the fraying hem was permanently stained a crusty dark, brown color.
"Oh thank you," Elsa managed, feeling guilty her vanity insulted the woman's work, "but it's far too damaged for me to wear. It's nearly falling apart."
"What? No! " Margery gasped, taken aback. She turned the dress slightly so she could gaze on it as well. "It's lovely, dear! Sure, the hem needs to be resewn—best way to do that would be folding it over and taking up a few inches—and its seen some salt and labor, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. It's regal, functional, and quite frankly, the most beautiful dress I have ever seen."
"Would you like it?" Elsa offered suddenly. Fearing the woman would think it was charity, she quickly added. "I'd like for it to be put to good use. If it pleases you, gifting it is the least I can do. You've all been so kind and welcoming, to total strangers—!"
She was cut off as Margery pulled her into strong a hug. "Dear, we only did what any decent human being would do. But you are most welcome, and thank you for the dress. It's far too young and small for me, but I'm sure I can fix it into something sweet for my little Abbie. Though what events here are grand enough for her to wear it for, I cannot imagine. But please, don't feel you owe us anything. You, your husband, and servant have been through so much—,"
"Wait, what?" Elsa interrupted. "My husband?" Roses bloomed rapidly across her pale complexion, as if she had summoned forth the power of summer rather winter. But the lady had turned away, folding up the dress lovingly in her arms and bustling about the workroom.
"I almost lost my husband to these seas. He is a brave man and loving father, you'll meet him when he gets back into port. He'll take you back in a heartbeat."
"I'm not married to Hans." She insisted loudly, then, embarrassed in a new way, added, "Or Agust. I'm not married to anyone." He face burned with heat and she fretfully glanced around the small room, pondering the thinness of the walls. What if the pompous prince had heard her?
"Well, maybe not a heartbeat," Margery continued, not hearing her, "but after a good night's rest he'd be willing to move a mountain to help someone in need."
"Single and quite content to not mingle."
"I'm sorry dear," Margery said with a flustered smile. "Did you say something? Sometimes I prattle on and on and on, there was one time that Resnette and I went out to lunch—but you see it was a diversion, I was to stall for a surprise party we were having for her fiftieth birthday—and I was doing so well with my talking that I nearly forgot I was supposed to bring her to the party at half past! We were nearly two hours late, oh her husband was so mad, but she was so happy. He couldn't spoil the mood by being angry, we are old friends after all—,"
"I said I'm not married." Elsa interjected, straining to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Never have been. The two men are unrelated to me. One was a royal sailor, the other—," she manually stopped herself from saying prisoner, "on diplomatic business."
"Oh, heavens!" Margery whispered, appalled. "I am so sorry if I have offended you, I didn't mean anything, I just assumed, or perhaps hoped he survived the crash alive. Your dynamic seemed so, well familiar. I would have inquired earlier but something about his demeanor was unsettling. No one really mentioned who he was. Again, I'm sorry. But you say, if you don't mind my asking, you've never been married. How are you crowned Queen?"
"Arendelle…is different." Elsa answered pondering the question. "We don't normally rule independently, but when the throne becomes vacant the country must move onto the oldest heir, traditions and formalities be damned."
"Vacant?" the woman murmured, "Oh, my dear, you don't mean…?"
"Yes," Elsa affirmed a sad smile on her face as she stared down at her folded hands. "My parents died in a sea storm, a storm quite like the one my ship encountered I imagine."
"You poor dear, I am so sorry to hear that." She murmured, sitting next to Elsa on the bare bed and covering her hands in hers. "I'm sure they were great rulers, if they begat such a wonderful daughter."
"Two wonderful daughters." Elsa corrected. "And they tried their best." All this talk of her family, death, and Arendelle was beginning to make her very sad, and the longing to return home widen in her heart.
"Let's not talk about this anymore." Margery decided, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know you've been pretty tired, but I'm sure you've rested well these past two days, and the town here is aching to have a celebration, and with royal company in our midst, I mean, you don't see blue blood come to Eofar."
"Margery," Elsa interrupted the old woman's ramble with a small laugh, "What is it?"
"Well," Margery forced, excitement brimming with an energetic squeal, "We're having a festival tonight in your honor!"