"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break."

—William Shakespeare, Macbeth


He was lost in the woods.

No, that wasn't right. He was getting permission to go ice harvesting. Onkel Balder said he could come this year, now that Sven was big enough to pull the little sleigh his pappa made for him, and as long as he promised not to get in the way.

"I won't, Onkel, I promise! Oh please, Mamma, can I?"

His mamma smiled her crinkly-eyed smile at him. She was holding a squirming bundle in her arms, which he suddenly recognized as a baby.

His sister. He—he had a baby sister, her name was–was Solveig, how had he ever forgotten—

"If you promise to behave, and be extra careful around the water, you may go," his mamma said.

He jumped into the air and cheered. Little Sven, sensing his excitement, sprang clumsily to his feet and jumped with him, chuffing.

"Just take special care, Balder," he heard his pappa say behind him.

"As if he was my own," he heard his onkel promise—


August 8, 1848—Hamar

Solveig stood outside the door to her parent's room, her hand half raised to knock. She knew what she'd find inside; she knew what day it was. But it was time for supper, and she didn't want her mamma to go hungry. Not today.

So, straightening her shoulders, she knocked three times.

"Come in," came the faint reply.

Solveig poked her head inside. The room was dark. Her mamma sat in a rocking chair close to the window. Her graying, blonde hair was out of its usual, intricate braids and loose about her shoulders. In her lap, she held a small, hand-knit blanket. She gave Solveig a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, Solveig, I'm sorry," Eir said. She stood, the rocking chair creaking. "Time got away from me. Is it time to start supper?"

"It's already done," Solveig said. "I was just coming to tell you."

Eir carefully folded the little blanket and set it down on the chair behind her. Without a backward glance, she joined her daughter in the hall.

"Is Balder home?"

Solveig shook her head. "Not yet."

Eir nodded. "Well, it shouldn't be much longer," she said. "The castle isn't that far away." She paused. "I wonder if—"

She cut herself off, shaking her head.

"Mamma?"

Eir gave her a small smile. "Best not to voice it—once it's said, it's harder to take back."

Mother and daughter went down the narrow stairs and stepped together into the hot kitchen. The hearth had a small but steady fire crackling. A black pot dangled above it; Solveig could smell the lapskaus simmering inside. Before fetching her mamma, she'd even set the table with dishes and silverware.

And Erlend already sat in his usual chair at the table, munching on flatbread.

"Erlend!" Solveig cried, gently swatting his shoulder. "I told you to wait!"

Erlend only grunted, his mouth full.

Eir kissed the top of his head and brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes.

"Mind your sister," she said as she sat down.

Erlend leaned into her touch.

Solveig huffed and went to check on the stew.

The back door opened. Solveig's father, Jens, entered, his arms full of firewood.

"Well, hello family," he said, using his shoulder to nudge the door closed. He gave Eir a peck on the cheek as he passed behind her chair.

He set the wood down next to the hearth. "Is Balder back yet?"

"Not yet," Solveig and Eir said together.

Jens nodded and sat down at the table between his wife and son, the chair creaking. He ruffled Erlend's hair before reaching for a slice of bread.

Eir gave his hand a light smack. "Ah, ah, wash."

Jens elbowed Erlend and playfully rolled his eyes as if to say, can you believe the way I'm treated around here? before getting up again to wash his hands.

The corners of Erlend's mouth twitched upward into a smile.

Click.

Solveig looked up from the stew and down the hall just in time to see the front door open.

Balder stepped into the entryway. He slid his pack off his back before sitting down heavily on the bench beside the door to take off his boots.

"Welcome home, Onkel!" Solveig called, waving a little with the ladle in her hand.

Balder did not return the greeting. He closed his eyes, put his face in his hands.

Solveig's heart aches. She knew today was hard for her uncle too. Maybe, in some ways, even more so than her parents. He must not have found what he was looking for—that Kristoff they'd heard about must not have been theirs after all.

Eir started to rise from her seat. "Balder?" she called. "Are you alright?"

Solveig watched Balder run his hands down his face and stand. He noticed her watching him then and smiled.

"Smells delicious," he said. He leaned dramatically over Solveig's shoulder to stick his face in the steam and inhale deeply.

Solveig pushed him away with her shoulder. "Gross, get off! Go, sit, and I'll bring it over in a minute."

Balder sat down beside Eir, leaving the seat next to Erlend empty, and immediately helped himself to some flatbread. He wouldn't look either Eir or Jens in the eye.

Solveig stirred the stew for another few seconds, as if that could delay the inevitable, before reaching for the stack of bowls by the hearth. But before she could grab one, suddenly Erlend was at her side and holding the bowls out to her.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

Erlend didn't reply, though the edges of his eyes crinkled just a touch.

Solveig carefully ladled five bowls of stew while Erlend passed them out. Her parents seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other, using only their eyes and vague gestures, while Balder stared into the middle distance and ignored them, mechanically shredding his flatbread on his plate.

Once everyone had a bowl, Jens said a short prayer, and they began to eat. Erlend ate as he always did—quickly and with great enthusiasm—while the rest of them picked at the bits of meat and potato in their bowls. No one spoke. The tension was so thick, Solveig figured she could snatch some out of the air and use it to butter her bread.

"So…" Solveig said lightly, chasing a carrot around her bowl with her spoon. "How was your trip? Did you get to see the Queen?"

Balder stirred his stew. "I did."

"And?" Solveig prompted. "Was she as beautiful as they say?"

Balder's lips quirked into a smile. "She was very pretty," he said. "Though not as pretty as my favorite princess."

Solveig rolled her eyes. "Har, har."

Eir's spoon clattered on the table and everyone looked at her.

"It wasn't him, was it," she said, quiet and resigned.

"No," Balder said. He stared into his bowl. "For a moment, I thought…but no."

Eir stood, her chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me," she said, and then she was gone.

Jens set his own spoon down and cleared his throat. He swiped a hand across his eyes and stood.

"Come, Erlend," he said gruffly. "Back to work."

Erlend dutifully followed him out the door.

Solveig swallowed hard and stared down into her bowl. She didn't know why she was upset, it's not like she'd even known Kristoff—

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you for supper, Solveig," Balder said.

"It really wasn't him?" Solveig asked. "You're sure?"

Balder paused. "I'm not," he said. "He looked…he looked like him. But he didn't remember me." He frowned. "He wasn't all that young when he…so, so he should've—"

He sighed and his shoulders sagged. "I'm going to go check on your mother. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"No, I've got it."

Balder nodded once and then Solveig was alone.


August 8, 1848—Arendelle Main Road

Elsa eyed the horizon. She'd hoped to leave the forest before dark, but it looked unlikely now as she watched the summer sun sink lower and lower in the sky, glowing golden between the pines.

They spoke very little. Elsa and the Nokk rode in the center of their group; Olaf sat in Elsa's lap and leaned back against her chest, already fast asleep and snoring gently.

Mattias, atop his own horse, brought up the rear. He constantly scanned the trees and brush around them, one hand always on the hilt of his sword.

Anna, riding atop Sven, led their strange group, determination written in every step the reindeer took, in every inch of Anna's rigid posture. But Elsa had been watching her sister very closely, and could see the tell-tale signs of exhaustion poking through Anna's defenses.

She brushed her hand across the Nokk's neck in a silent request, and the Nokk trotted forward to match Sven's pace.

"Anna," Elsa said. "It'll be dark soon."

Anna didn't look at her. "We're not stopping."

Elsa swallowed a sigh. "It's been a long day for all of us, Anna—you and Sven especially. We need to rest."

"No," Anna snapped. "This is no different from the Enchanted Forest. We didn't rest then, and we're not resting now."

Sven chuffed in agreement.

Elsa huffed.

The Nokk, as if sensing Elsa's growing frustration, tossed its mane and trotted ahead of Sven on the path. It stopped up short, blocking them from continuing forward.

"Ugh, Elsa!" Anna cried, as Sven let out an angry grunt. "Move your stupid magic horse—"

Elsa folded her arms and gave Anna her best, haughty glare. "No."

Anna glared right back. "Yes."

"Fine," Elsa said. "We'll move if you promise to rest."

"No. You're not the queen anymore; technically you have to listen to me."

"I'm still the oldest," Elsa snapped back. "And I was queen first."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "So, what, that makes you the better queen?"

Elsa balked. "I never said that—"

"You implied it!"

"You're putting words in my mouth that I've never said or—or even thought!" Elsa cried. "I think you're a wonderful queen! Better than I ever was!"

Anna frowned. "Elsa, you were an amazing queen—"

"No," Elsa said, cutting her off. "No, I wasn't. Not like you are."

She sighed. "I was never meant to be Queen of Arendelle, Anna, you were. You're the other half of the bridge—a bridge that needs to sleep."

Anna's shoulders deflated, and she looked down at her hands.

"I can't," she whispered. "This-this is all my fault."

She reached a hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She held it out to Elsa.

Elsa took it from her gently and unfolded it. She recognized Kristoff's messy handwriting immediately, and the contents of the list. She'd made a similar one, years ago, after her parents died.

"He's just been so…so stressed," Anna whispered. "And I've been so busy with everything that I never stopped to ask if this is what he even wanted, and now—"

Elsa folded the paper again. "I'm going to tell you something someone very wise once told me," she said. "You are not responsible for his choices, Anna. Nor are you responsible for what happened to get us here. Not for the trolls, or this list, or any of it."

Anna sniffled.

Elsa slipped off the Nokk's back (waking Olaf in the process, who sat up and let out a surprised snerk). Gently, she took Anna's hands in hers and helped her down from Sven's back. Once Anna was on the ground, Elsa folded her into her arms. Anna clung to her.

"It's going to be alright."

"How do you know," Anna said, her voice muffled.

I don't, Elsa thought but didn't say.

"Kristoff is brave," she said instead. "And very resourceful. And…and they had a lot of years to hurt him and they didn't. I doubt they'd start now."

Please, Elsa prayed to whoever was listening, please let me be right. They couldn't lose Kristoff too, after everything. She couldn't bear it.

Elsa felt Olaf move past her to wrap his thin arms around Anna's skirt.

"Kristoff is absolutely the bravest person I know," he said staunchly. "He'll be okay."

Anna rested her hand on Olaf's head. "Thank you, Olaf."

"He's also the stinkiest person I know, but I didn't think that was relevant."

It wasn't particularly funny, but Elsa burst out laughing anyway. After a moment, Anna started giggling along with her, until the sisters were nearly doubled over with tears streaming down both their faces. Elsa wasn't sure if the tears were from laughter or stress, but in the moment, she didn't care in the slightest.

Anna scooped Olaf up into a hug. "Thank you, Olaf," she said again, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You're welcome?" Olaf asked, confused but pleased at the attention.

Behind them, Mattias cleared his throat. He had also dismounted, and had, apparently, been waiting for them.

"Pardon me, your Majesties," he said. "But it'll be dark soon, and we won't reach town before then. Shall we make camp?"

Elsa looked to Anna. Anna sighed, shoulders slumping just a little, and nodded.

"Yes, thank you," Elsa said. "But, please, call me Elsa."

At that, Anna snorted. "Good luck, he refuses to call me anything other than ma'am half the time."

Mattias straightened his shoulders and put on a comically solemn expression. "Only out of the highest respect for my Queen, ma'am."

Anna huffed and rolled her eyes as Elsa let out an involuntary giggle-snort.

"Oooh, can I help make the fire?" Olaf asked, bouncing a little in place.

"Uh…yes?" Mattias said, bemused.

Olaf squealed in delight and immediately ran off to start collecting firewood.

"Did I just make a huge mistake?" Mattias asked.

"Define 'huge,'" Anna said.

Mattias sighed and went after the snowman.

Elsa made to follow them, but before she could, Anna caught her hand.

"Elsa," Anna said. "Thank you."

"It was about time I returned the favor," Elsa said. She squeezed Anna's hand. "We're going to solve this, Anna. Together."

Determination glinted in Anna's eyes. "Together."

For now, a traitorous little voice in Elsa's head whispered. She viciously shoved it down.

Yet still, as they prepared a fire and settled in for an uneasy rest, the thought lingered.


He was lost in the woods.

No, he wasn't. Bulda kept an eye out for him, and Sven, and always guided him back to the trolls' valley when he wandered too far (which was often). He didn't mean to make her worry. He just—he was looking for something, or…someone should be there, waiting for him…

"Bulda?" he asked one night. "When can I go home?"

"This is your home, dear," the troll said with a pleasant smile.

"But what about Mamma?"

"You can call me Mother if you like."

His face scrunched in confusion. Why would he do that? He already had a mamma, he just said so.

No, wait…he's an orphan. He'd never known his parents, or his onkel, or his sister, or—or a red-haired girl with a lovely smile—

Bulda held out a clay cup full of a foul-smelling liquid to him.

"It smells bad."

Bulda laughed. "It's supposed to, it's troll tea."

"Oh." That made sense.

He drank, wrinkling his nose at the bitter aftertaste.

"Good, dear. Now, sleep…" Bulda whispered, brushing her hand through his shaggy bangs.

Just before Kristoff closed his eyes, he thought he saw Grand Pabbie's silhouette hovering over him—


August 9, 1848—Arendelle Main Road

Anna was exhausted. For hours, she'd slept in fits and starts, unable to get comfortable on the hard ground. Her body felt like one big bruise from riding on Sven all day yesterday, and her mind wouldn't quiet, no matter what kind of reassurances she muttered to herself.

She finally gave up on sleep when she saw Mattias wake Elsa for the second watch. She waited for him to lay down and, once she was certain he was asleep, she wrapped her cloak around herself and got up to find her sister.

Elsa stood on the fringes of their makeshift camp, her back to the fire. She didn't look surprised to see Anna.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked softly.

"A little. I'll try again in a bit," Anna said, to appease her. She scanned the dark, still trees. "Any signs of trouble?"

Elsa was quiet for a moment, her eyes far away.

"She's still watching us," she said. "The huldra."

Anna's eyebrows rose. "Should we be, uh, worried about that?"

"I don't think so. She's just…observing."

Anna glared at the trees. "As long as that's all she does."

Elsa laughed lightly. "Between me and the general, I don't think she'd dare."

"Well don't jinx it!"

Elsa put her hands up. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop."

Anna huffed.

Elsa nudged her. "What's on your mind?"

"Everything," Anna said. She hesitated. Then: "What's his family like?"

Elsa smiled. "Kind, from what I saw," she said. "I tried not to pry too much. But his parents seem to be very kind, generous people."

Kristoff has parents, Anna thought, with a slight shake of her head. What a foreign concept that was. He'd never once spoken of them in one way or another—Anna had always assumed it wasn't a happy story, and that living with the trolls had replaced any bad memories with better ones.

She regretted that assumption now.

"Their names are Eir and Jens," Elsa continued. "Kristoff looks a lot like his father."

"Balder said that when he came to see us. I wish—I wish I'd just listened—"

"No, stop, you did the right thing," Elsa said sternly. "If it helps, I wouldn't have believed him either."

Anna pressed her lips together and looked down at her shoes.

Elsa gave her a sympathetic look and changed the subject. "Kristoff has a sister, too."

"Really?" Anna wasn't sure why that surprised her so much.

"Mmhm. Her name is Solveig. She's seventeen and doesn't get along with most people, prefers the outdoors, and can be a little prickly toward strangers…sound familiar?"

"Oh my gosh, there's two of them," Anna said, and Elsa smiled.

"They'll get along great, I have no doubt," Elsa said. Her smile faded. "There was someone else there too. But…"

She trailed off, a pensive expression on her face.

"But…what?" Anna asked.

"It was so strange," Elsa said. "I don't know how to explain it. It was—whenever I looked at the family after Kristoff left there was this–this gap."

"Gap?" Anna asked, alarmed. "What does that even mean?"

Elsa made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "It was like—I told you how it's statues I see? Only they move and speak, playing out the events of the past?"

Anna nodded.

"After Kristoff left, I think—I think they adopted another child, but I can't see them at all. There's a statue there, like a stand-in, but there's no…shape, no face, no distinguishing features. As if they exist but they're not real." Elsa sighed. "Does that make any sense?"

"Not really," Anna said apologetically. "Sounds super creepy though."

"Oh, believe me, it was," Elsa said. "But I couldn't look any deeper. I have no idea when this child came to live with them, or why. They just appeared one day and never left."

Dread settled over Anna like a heavy blanket. She did her best to shake it off.

"Well, it'll be nothing we haven't dealt with before," she said. "Besides, now that you're like this 'Great Spirit of Nature' or whatever you should be able to handle a little mystery kid, no problem."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "That is not my job."

"Oh sure it is," Anna said with a wave of her hand. "You mediate between the Spirits and humanity with some…light vigilantism on the side."

Elsa shook her head and laughed.

Anna put her hands on her hips. "Okay, then what exactly is your job?"

"What you said," Elsa replied once she managed to stop laughing. "Mediation. Though, there haven't been as many calls for that lately, now that things in the forest are settled."

"Sounds like you'll be able to do whatever you want then."

"Yeah," Elsa said. She looked down at her hands. "You know, my entire life, everything has been planned out for me. First, to become Queen of Arendelle, and now the Fifth Spirit. To have the ability to choose what I want to do is…a bit of an anomaly." She shot Anna a rueful smile. "I was a little jealous of you when we were kids, you know. For getting the chance to choose."

Anna took her sister's hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry, Elsa. I–I never—"

Elsa shook her head. "No, don't be. That wasn't your fault. It was just…the fate of the heir, I suppose."

Anna could understand that. Some days—no matter how much she loved Arendelle and the people in it—some days she didn't feel like her life was truly hers anymore either.

"Well," Anna said, smiling. "At least you have plenty of time to figure it out!"

Elsa didn't return her smile, and her already pale face paled further in the flickering firelight. Her hands grew bitingly cold and trembled a little in Anna's grip.

Anna's eyebrows creased in alarm. "Elsa? Elsa, what's wrong?"

Elsa shook her head again, turning her face away. "It's nothing."

Frustration welled up in Anna's chest. "No—no, we agreed you don't get to shut me out like this." She reached for Elsa's other hand and held them tight despite the chill. "Tell me what's wrong. Please, Elsa."

Elsa inhaled a shaky breath. Slowly, she turned to face Anna, and Anna could see glittering tears gathering in her sister's eyes.

Anna swallowed down a flash of panic. She hadn't seen her sister this anxious in a long time.

Elsa exhaled. "In your last letter," she whispered. "You wrote that you were tired of secrets. And—and I'm so sorry that I have to tell you one more, but." She shuddered. "But I—I'm not—not aging."

Anna's mind whited out. "What?"

"I'm not aging, Anna," Elsa repeated. A tear spilled down her cheek. "I'm not aging, and I…I don't think I ever will again."

Anna tightened her grip on Elsa's hands. "No, that–that can't be. How did you even figure that out?"

"The Spirits told me," Elsa whispered. "I think…when I stepped into Ahtohallan for the first time and came into my full power, time just…stopped. For me."

"Oh, Elsa," Anna whispered, then stopped. She didn't have words for this. Just a sudden grief so sharp it took her breath away.

She pulled Elsa into a tight embrace.

"We'll figure this out," Anna whispered into Elsa's hair. "It'll be okay. I love you."

Elsa pressed her face into Anna's shoulder and did not reply.


He was lost in the woods.

He'd left the valley hours ago. Sven followed him, as he always did, and Kristoff knew he was wondering where they were going, but he really didn't have a destination in mind. All he knew was he wanted to get away and go somewhere else—

He was supposed to be somewhere else, wasn't he? Where was—

He kicked a stone underfoot, sending it skittering down the path. Another troll, one of his best friends since they were young, had undergone his right of passage today, received his crystal, and was now able to participate in adult-troll society.

Kristoff longed for that opportunity, to prove he truly belonged here.

But Bulda had said no. And he did not understand.

'This isn't a trial for humans, dear,' she'd said, and Kristoff had wanted to scream—but I don't belong with humans, I want to be one of you!

Yet still, Bulda held firm.

So he'd left, furious and hurt. He'd never belong anywhere, would he? He'd always be Kristoff the ice harvester, struggling to make ends meet; Kristoff from nowhere, Kristoff the orphan, Kristoff the—

Wait…

He wasn't an orphan. He-he had a family, somewhere—didn't he? And—Anna. Where did she go, what happened to—

As soon as the thought arrived, it was gone. Colors blurred around him as if obscured by a sudden flurry of snow.

He was lost in the woods…


Notes:

1. "Lapskaus" or "lobscouse" is a Norwegian stew consisting of meat, potatoes, vegetables (primarily carrots), and other spices.

2. Elsa's secret is revealed and boy, oh boy, it sucks! But I've always liked the idea of an immortal Elsa and wanted to play around with it a little, so, here we are.