"By chance, they passed close to each other in a grove of hazel bushes. Bianca heard something rustle in the grove and thought, It is a fox sneaking through. The troll princess stood still and listened and thought, It is a wood pigeon fluttering there. Yet they did not meet."

—Helena Nybolm, "The Changelings"


August 9, 1848—Hamar

Solveig woke to the sound of her name.

"Solveig?"

She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. Absolutely no way was it time to get up already.

Someone shook her shoulder. "Solveig!"

She grunted and shoved her head under her pillow. "Go away, Erlend," she said, her voice muffled.

"No."

Solveig popped her head up then, her golden hair sticking up in all directions, and glared at her brother.

"Ugh, what?"

Solveig squinted out the window. It was still dark—the sun hadn't risen yet. Erlend stood next to her bed, already dressed; he'd even combed his hair. His blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the dim light.

She groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "It's not even morning, go back to sleep."

"No. I have to go."

Solveig raised her head again. "Go? Go where?"

Erlend was staring at her very intently. "The road."

"You woke me up because you have to go to the road?" Solveig asked in disbelief.

Erlend nodded. "I have to go."

Solveig dropped her head down on her pillow and sighed deeply. Then, she threw her covers off.

"Fine," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll come with you."

Erlend stepped into the hall as Solveig got out of bed, grumbling under her breath. She shivered and dressed quickly. She ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it enough to braid but gave up at the first snag and let it hang, loose and wild, about her shoulders.

It's not like anyone important's gonna see me this early anyway, she groused as she slipped into the hall.

The farmhouse was dark and silent save for the ticking of the ancient grandfather clock downstairs. Even her uncle, who Solveig wasn't sure ever actually slept, wasn't awake yet.

Erlend waited for her by the front door, shifting from one foot to the other. As soon as he saw her at the top of the stairs, he darted outside.

"Erlend!" she hissed, but the door had already swung shut behind him.

Cursing under her breath, Solveig hurried after him.


August 9, 1848—Arendelle Main Road

Anna never did go back to sleep. At dawn, she and Elsa woke the others and, within minutes of rousing them, they were back on the road. Mattias and Elsa both had deep bags under their eyes; Anna yawned endlessly. They all were dirty and hungry and, except for Elsa and Olaf, chilled by the early morning air.

For the first few miles, they didn't speak. Elsa and Anna rode atop the Nokk and Sven, respectively, side by side down the dirt road. Olaf had switched mounts and now sat behind Anna, taking in their surroundings with his usual, bright-eyed enthusiasm, seemingly oblivious to the tension that hung suspended between the sisters. Mattias had once more taken up his constant vigilance at the back of their group.

Anna didn't blame him for being on edge—her own nerves felt liable to snap at any moment. Neither she nor Elsa had spoken much since Elsa's revelation and Anna hated it. But, what else was there to say?

It still didn't seem real. Immortality was still such a massive, abstract thing that, up until this point, had existed only as a fun mental and philosophical exercise. Say, Anna, what would you do if you could live forever? someone could ask, and Anna could say, hmm, perhaps I'll travel the world, or learn a new instrument…

Except, now it was real. Elsa was going to live forever. She will never look any different than she does now. But Anna will. Her hair will turn gray, and she'll get wrinkles and liver spots and stiff joints, and then…and then she will die and Elsa will be alone.

Again.

"Anna?"

Anna startled out of her thoughts at Olaf's voice. "Yes, Olaf?"

"I think Elsa's been trying to get your attention for like five minutes now?" Olaf asked in a loud whisper. He jerked a wooden thumb in Elsa's direction. "She keeps looking over here with these big sad eyes and everything."

To her right, Elsa snorted.

"Thanks, Olaf," Anna said, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Very helpful."

"Don't mention it," Olaf said, before settling back down behind her.

Anna and Elsa looked at each other then, and Elsa gave Anna a small smile that didn't meet her eyes. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Elsa was the first to speak. "Anna, I—I want to apologize."

At that, Anna frowned. "For…?"

Surely Elsa was aware Anna didn't blame her for becoming immortal? Who even sets out to do that on purpose?

"For not telling you sooner," Elsa clarified.

"Oh," Anna said, looking down at Sven's harness. A familiar hurt flared in her chest. "That."

"I should've told you the moment I found out," Elsa continued. "But there was so much to do in the Forest those first few weeks, and you were so busy at home and—and then there was just never a good opportunity to bring it up. But…but last night was not the best time either and I apologize."

Anna took a deep breath and rubbed at a spot between Sven's ears that she knew he liked while she thought about what to say next.

"I'm glad you told me," she said eventually. "Even though it…it really wasn't the best time. At all. But I'm glad I know now."

Elsa bowed her head. "I think," she said, running her fingers through the Nokk's icy mane, "I needed time to process. I had to see if there's any way to reverse it."

"Is there?" Anna asked, sitting up straight.

"Not to my knowledge," Elsa said. She let out a rueful snort. "I guess I have all the time in the world to figure it out, though."

I don't.

"I guess so," Anna said instead. She pressed her lips together. "Promise you'll keep me in the loop?"

Elsa met her gaze. "I promise."

"Me too?" Olaf asked, popping his head up behind Anna's shoulder again.

Elsa smiled at him. "Of course! This concerns you too."

Anna's mouth opened in surprise. She hadn't even thought of that. Of course, this involved Olaf—if Elsa was immortal then he was effectively immortal now too.

The thought cheered her a tiny bit. Maybe…maybe Elsa wouldn't be as alone as she thought.

Mattias guided his horse between them, then, and cleared his throat. "We should be nearly there," he said. "No sign of trouble, your Majesties."

Anna gave Mattias a tired smile. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you, General," Elsa said. "For watching over my sister when I could not."

"I wasn't about to let the Queen run off without any protection, no matter how determined she may be," Mattias said, a twinkle in his eye. "So it was my pleasure, your Highness."

Elsa shook her head with a small smile. "Just Elsa, please."

Mattias inclined his head. "Of course, ma'am."

Elsa laughed lightly and shook her head.

She had just opened her mouth to reply when Sven stopped up short on the road and jerked his head up, suddenly alert. The Nokk stopped with him and nickered lowly.

"What is it, Sven?" Anna asked, patting the reindeer's neck.

Sven grunted, and Anna heard Elsa gasp.

A few yards up the road ahead of them stood a broad-shouldered man. His blond hair shone in the newly risen sun, and when he turned—

"Kristoff?" Anna breathed. She slipped off Sven's back and started to run. "Kristoff!"

"Anna, wait—" Elsa called, but Anna ignored her. Within a few steps, she collided with the man on the road and threw her arms around him, awash in relief and joy—

But he didn't catch her as Kristoff would have. And when she looked up into his face—

The man-who-should-be-Kristoff stared down at her with shocking blue eyes, so violently different from Kristoff's warm brown. There was no recognition in them.

Anna stumbled back with a wordless cry. Her back met something solid and Elsa's arms encircled her, holding her tight.

"It's okay, I've got you," Elsa whispered into her ear, glaring at Kristoff's double.

"Erlend!" a new voice called. "Erlend, we need—"

A young woman appeared on the road in front of them. She, too, had wild blonde hair and a round face. When she saw Anna and Elsa standing with Kristoff's double, she stopped up short and glared.

"Who are you?" she asked rudely. She grabbed the double's hand.

But Anna couldn't tear her eyes away from Kristoff's double. He looked exactly like him: the hair, the height, the shape of his shoulders—they were all a near-perfect match.

Yet, something was decidedly off. He stared at them unabashedly, and the way he stood—his shoulders slightly hunched, the hand not held by the young woman hanging limply at his side—was so very different from Kristoff that Anna wondered, wildly, if this was how Balder felt when he saw Kristoff at the castle—off-balanced and uncertain.

Was…was this the faceless shape Elsa saw?

Elsa released Anna and stepped forward.

"My name is Elsa, and this is my sister, Anna," she said. "We didn't mean to cause any harm, but your friend here—"

"Brother," the young woman interrupted. "Erlend's my brother."

Elsa smiled tightly. "Pardon me. I can see the resemblance."

"Okay, but is no one going to point out that he looks exactly like Kristoff or…?" Olaf said, pushing himself between the two sisters.

The young woman let out a gasp. Erlend's gaze zeroed in on Olaf but he said nothing.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm usually better about these: hi! I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs," Olaf said brightly. He pointed behind him. "And that's Sven and that's the Water Spirit from the Enchanted Forest and that's General Mattias and—I actually don't know the horse's name."

"Hest," Mattias said.

"And that's Hest," Olaf finished. "And you are?"

"You're a snowman," the young woman said, dumbfounded.

"I know, and you are?"

"Uh," the young woman said. "Solveig Jensdotter." She blinked at Elsa and Anna. "Which means you're the-the Queen?"

She dropped into a curtsy, yanking on Erlend's hand until he bowed.

"Your Majesty," Solveig said to the ground.

"You're Kristoff's sister," Anna blurted.

Solveig gave her a funny look. "I thought your Kristoff wasn't ours." She flushed. "Uh, ma'am."

Anna shook her head. "We thought so too, at first, but we've, uh, come into new information. Is Balder Larsen here?"

Solveig nodded slowly.

"I know it's early, but we need to speak with him as soon as possible," Elsa said.

Behind them, Sven grunted in agreement.

"It's a matter of life and death," Olaf added with a dramatic wave of his hands. "What?" he asked, when Elsa glared at him.

"He…should still be at the house," Solveig said, her eyes darting between them. "I'll take you there, your Majesties."

"Thank you, Solveig," Anna said.

With one last long look, Solveig turned away from them, tugging on Erlend's hand. He went with her easily and didn't give their party a second glance.

Olaf put his hand in Anna's. "Anna? Are you okay?" he asked, uncharacteristically solemn.

Anna blinked fiercely and nodded. "I'm okay, Olaf," she said. "Elsa, is he…is Erlend the shape you saw?"

Elsa's jaw was set. "I'm sure of it."

"Then be on your guard," Mattias said behind them. One hand rested on his sword. "Changelings are not to be trifled with."


He was lost in the woods.

No…no, he knew this road. He was headed home. The season had just ended and this year—this year he'd finally scraped together enough money for a down payment on a sled.

The sled, well…it wasn't exactly the nicest one on the market, but it was leagues better than the rickety one he'd tried to build himself. Even with Bulda and Cliff's help, that sled had been on its last mile from the second he hitched it to Sven.

When he rode the new one into the Valley, the trolls had given it the appropriate amount of attention and admiration—which is to say they'd climbed all over it and scuffed the lacquer all to hell. Even Grand Pabbie had given a slow nod of approval.

And Kristoff was so proud. Finally, here was something he had done himself, with his own money and his own hard work, that the trolls, or anybody, hadn't helped him do.

Bulda patted his knee. "Well done, dear," she said over the noise of the celebrating trolls. She flashed him a toothy grin. "My little boy, all grown up."

Kristoff grinned back at her. "I can't wait to show Anna," he said. He craned his neck, peering over the crowd to look for that familiar red hair. "Where is she? She's going to love this, I—"

He faltered. "Wait…I—where is…"

And all the noise in the Valley abruptly died. A hundred eyes blinked up at him, their faces suddenly indistinguishable from one another.

He looked at his feet. Bulda had vanished. When he looked up, Sven, his sled, the entire Valley was gone, replaced by trees so thick he could barely see a foot in front of him.

Pieces trickled back, slotting themselves into place in his head: Anna, the engagement. His stupid list. Balder—his Onkel Balder, he remembered now, even if it was only a name—arriving at the castle. Bulda's stony face as she told him the truth and the inky blackness that followed.

"None of this is real," Kristoff murmured.

He looked up through the trees and couldn't see any sky—just a mist so thick and so reminiscent of the Enchanted Forest that it made him sick to his stomach.

"None of this is real," he said again, a little louder.

As if in answer, the trees crowded close around him and pressed against him from all sides, and thin, sharp branches caught at his clothes and hair. He gritted his teeth and pushed back, wincing as the branches cut the palms of his hands, but he refused to stop.

Anna, he thought. I'm coming.


August 9, 1848—Hamar

Solveig's mind was a whirlwind. The Queen was here. The Queen was here. The Queen! Was here!

She clutched Erlend's hand like a lifeline as she dragged him toward the house, sneaking glances over her shoulder every few feet.

They really were an odd sight: the Queen, wrapped in a dirty cloak and riding on a reindeer, of all things, with a living, breathing, talking snowman in her lap. The former-Queen (which…come to think of it, hadn't she died? Solveig could've sworn Ingrid from down the lane said she'd died—though she supposed Ingrid was always exaggerating things and anyway, now was not the time, Solveig—) rode on a…horse made of ice? Which was its own, separate thing she needed to unpack, good Lord.

At least the soldier seemed normal, though she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he, too, turned out to be a powerful warlock or something.

Erlend tugged on her hand, pulling her from her thoughts.

"What, Erlend?" Solveig hissed, sneaking another peek and almost stumbling—the Queen seemed to be trying to bore a hole in Erlend's back, so intense was her gaze.

(And that was another thing: the snowman had said Erlend looked exactly like the Queen's Kristoff, which was impossible. Her parents had adopted Erlend when she was a year old, he wasn't blood-related. He couldn't look like her lost brother.

No, Erlend was Erlend, and Kristoff was dead, and that was that.)

Solveig whipped her head around, her cheeks burning. Erlend tugged on her hand again, as if he wanted to pull her off the road.

She frowned at him.

"We can't," she whispered. "We have to tell Mamma they're here first."

Erlend's brow furrowed at her answer, but he didn't tug on her hand again.

After what felt like hours but was really only ten minutes, the red-and-brown farmhouse finally came into view, picturesque amongst the sprawling fields of barley, and framed by the forest towering behind it.

As the royal entourage reached the yard and began to dismount, Solveig turned and curtsied. "Your Majesties can rest your, um, mounts in the barn if you like." She nodded at the small, brown barn standing to the left of the house.

Former-not-dead-Queen Elsa dismounted from her icy horse and smiled at her. "Thank you."

With a wave of her hand, the ice covering the horse vanished. The horse, now fully made of crystal blue water, whinnied and trotted one step, two steps, before disintegrating with a splash into their well.

Solveig blinked. "Sure," she said faintly, "that may as well happen."

Queen Anna laughed. "You get used to it, I promise."

Solveig shook her head. She doubted that. "My pappa and onkel are out in the fields somewhere this time of day, but my mamma should be inside."

"Thank you, Solveig," former-Queen Elsa said. "You're a very gracious host."

Solveig's cheeks grew hot and she half-curtsied again, still holding Erlend's hand. "We'll, um, let them know you're here," she said, before fleeing inside, dragging Erlend along with her.

She didn't stop until they reached the kitchen and she could lean against the table. She took two deep breaths—in and out, in and out—and pressed a hand over her heart to try to stop it from beating out of her chest. Erlend watched her, concern flickering in his blue eyes.

"This is insane," she muttered.

Erlend's lips quirked up into a smile.

Her mamma chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.

"Hello, children," Eir said, raising an eyebrow. "You're up early."

"The Queen is here," Solveig blurted.

To her credit, Eir froze for only a moment. "Well," she said. "We'll need to start breakfast posthaste, then. Did her Majesty say why she was here?"

"She wants to speak to Onkel Balder again," Solveig said. "The–the talking snowman said it was a matter of life and death."

If Eir was thrown by the talking snowman, she didn't show it. "Erlend, go and fetch your onkel and pappa from the eastern field."

Erlend disappeared out the back door.

"Solveig, before you do anything else, brush your hair," Eir said, reaching for her apron hanging by the hearth and tying it around her waist.

Solveig ran her fingers through her hair and felt her face grow hot. Oh God, she'd met the Queen of Arendelle looking like some kind of wild person, hadn't she? She'd never been vain about her looks, but even she had standards. She braided it as fast as she could.

"Now, go and see how her Majesty takes her coffee," Eir said, pulling out bread and brunost and arranging them on a plate. "Quick, now!"

But Solveig hesitated in the doorway. "Mamma…the snowman said Erlend looked like their Kristoff. Exactly like their Kristoff. But that's—that'd be crazy, right?"

Eir's mouth pressed into a firm line. "Go, Solveig. Don't keep the Queen waiting."

And Solveig went.


As soon as they entered the farmhouse, Eir Larsdotter (Kristoff's mother, Anna's mind had supplied with no small amount of wonder) had taken one look at their exhausted, bedraggled party and tsked under her breath. Immediately, she ushered Anna, Elsa, Mattias, and Olaf into the kitchen and sat them down in front of piping hot bowls of grøt and berries and mugs of coffee.

Solveig, who had briefly reappeared to mumble something about a coffee order before disappearing again, now stood at the hearth, stirring something in a large pot hanging above the fire and resolutely not looking at them. Her cheeks were red, but Anna could pretend it was from the heat from the fire for her sake. There was no sign of Erlend, or Balder, in the kitchen or in the sitting room they'd walked past on their way inside.

Olaf didn't hesitate to dig into the food with glee, but Anna couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, and resisted the sudden desire to reach up and adjust her tangled hair. She was sitting in Kristoff's parents' house, a privilege she never thought she'd have and, though she knew it was silly, she worried they wouldn't approve of her.

"I'm sorry it isn't much, your Majesties," Eir said, breaking through Anna's spiraling thoughts. She set a plate of bread and brown cheese down on the table.

"No, this is wonderful, thank you," Anna said quickly. "We left rather abruptly yesterday and didn't have the chance to prepare for a long journey, so this is most welcome."

Eir nodded. "I sent Erlend to fetch Balder, your Highness," she said. "They should be back any moment now."

"Thank you," Anna said. "And, please, it's just Anna."

Eir smiled softly at her, the laugh-lines around her eyes deepening just a touch. "Just Anna, then."

The back door opened and everyone at the table turned. Balder, red-faced and breathing hard, stood before them, one hand still on the doorknob. At his side was another man, and Anna startled a little at the sight of him. This man also looked remarkably like Kristoff, if Kristoff were twenty years older and had brown hair and a beard.

Jens, she thought. Kristoff's father.

When both men caught their breath and registered who exactly was sitting at the table, they bowed in unison.

"Your Majesty," Balder said and Anna stood.

"Call me Anna, please. I—I've come to apologize," she said in a rush.

When Balder looked at her inquisitively, she continued. "For not believing you when you came to us. Kristoff—Kristoff is your nephew."

Behind her, Eir let out a little gasp.

Balder straightened and roughly cleared his throat, his eyes glassy. "Thank you, your Majesty. Anna."

Jens crossed the room to stand beside his wife. He wrapped his arm around her and Eir leaned into him.

"So then where is he?" Solveig asked. She'd turned fully away from the hearth to face Anna, her hands on her hips. Anna recognized the anger in her face—it was the kind of anger that came from a grief so great and deep it was difficult to understand.

"He was taken," Anna said. She took a deep breath and looked at each of them in turn. "He—he was raised by trolls in the forest, at a place called the Valley of the Living Rock. We think that, after Balder came to see us, Kristoff left to ask the trolls himself and then they–they took him and hid him from us."

The only noise in the house was that of the fire crackling in the hearth.

"Trolls?" Solveig asked incredulously. "This whole time it's been trolls?"

"Why?" Eir whispered.

Elsa stood, her chair scraping across the wooden floor. "We're not sure yet. But, I will tell you what we know, and maybe you can fill in some gaps?"

Eir nodded.

And Elsa began.

She told them about that night, long ago: the accident, the desperate ride into the forest, the mysterious valley. Pabbie's solution to Anna's injury. His cryptic answer to her father's question. The child she'd seen as they'd ridden away.

She pivoted then, to Anna's letter and Ahtohallan, and her dive into the past, and what she'd discovered: that Balder was telling the truth, that Kristoff was his nephew.

"From there, however, things get a little…murky," she said apologetically. "Ahtohallan contains a wealth of information, but there is a limit to what I can see. I…did see that you adopted another child."

"Yes," Jens said. "Our son, Erlend."

Elsa hesitated. "I also saw that Erlend…Erlend isn't exactly—"

Jens and Eir exchanged a glance.

"We know," Jens said.

Elsa blinked, surprised. "You–you do?"

Eir gave her a sardonic smile. "Of course we do. When Erlend first came to us, I knew instantly he wasn't my Kristoff, no matter how close in appearance he was. We all did."

"And you still let him stay here?" Elsa asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even knowing what he was?"

"He was still a child," Jens said gruffly. "We weren't going to abandon him. None of us are that cruel."

"No…no, you aren't," Elsa said.

"Hold on," Solveig said. All eyes turned to her. "What do you mean knowing what he was? Is Erlend not…but Erlend's just Erlend. Isn't he?"

And Anna suddenly understood. She doesn't know.

"Solveig," Eir admonished, reaching for her daughter. "I'll explain later."

Solveig stepped away from her mother's hand but didn't say anything else.

"So, what happens now?" Balder asked, drawing Anna's attention. His face was stone. "Why involve us at all?"

Anna winced. She'd been so wrapped up in her own pain that she honestly hadn't considered that coming here and saying, your son is alive but he is still lost to you, would be a hard thing to hear.

But what choice did she have?

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry—these last few days must have been so painful for you. For all of you. If there had been a way to rescue Kristoff myself and bring him here, I would have. But…but the entrance to the Valley is hidden—"

"You could say that again," Olaf said before Mattias could shush him.

"—and the only person who can enter is you, Balder."

"We think," Elsa was quick to add. "The huldra we encountered said that only the ones he was taken from could reclaim him, which unfortunately isn't us."

"A huldra?" Solveig asked, eyes wide.

Olaf nodded. "Very creepy," he said to her. "Definitely not someone you want to run into in the middle of the dark woods."

Solveig nodded along with him before shaking her head. "Wait, alright, so Kristoff was taken by trolls as a child and…now he's been taken by trolls again? Am I missing something?"

"Ummm…nope, that's it," Olaf said after a moment of contemplation.

"So, what, he just…lived with them this whole time and chose never to come home at all?" Solveig asked, brow furrowing.

"No," Elsa said, not unkindly. "We believe his memories were altered by Pabbie, the trolls' elder. Like he did to Anna as a child."

Solveig paled and she snapped her mouth shut.

Balder's hands clenched into fists at his side. "What do I need to do?"

"Come with us to the Valley of the Living Rock," Anna said.

"And that will bring Kristoff back?" Eir asked. Jens' arm tightened around her shoulders.

"I…" Anna started, then stopped. She didn't want to give them false hope. She didn't want to give herself false hope. "It's the best chance we have."

Balder nodded. "When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're able," Anna said.

"I'll ready my horse," Balder said. He bowed again. "Your Majes—Anna." In two strides, he was gone, the door clattering closed behind him.

Mattias stood, setting a napkin down on the table beside his place-setting. "I'll do the same. Come on, Olaf, I'll need your help with Sven."

Olaf gave Anna a fleeting hug before following Mattias to the barn.

Jens addressed Anna then. "If you'll pardon us, your Highness," he said. "We…we need a moment to process."

"Of course, take as much time as you need," Anna said and then Eir and Jens left the room together.

As soon as they were gone, Anna sat down heavily in her chair. She felt almost out of breath, like she'd run a mile, and a headache pulsed in the center of her forehead. Elsa sat down with her, and squeezed her hand.

"Your Majesty," Solveig said.

Anna startled—she hadn't realized Solveig was still there. "Yes?"

Solveig sat down across from her, her jaw set, shoulders back. Bracing for something. "Does Erlend look like Kristoff?"

"Yes," Anna answered honestly. "Exactly like him. Only, Kristoff has brown eyes. Like yours."

Solveig sat for a minute, digesting this information. Then: "Why does he look like Kristoff?"

Anna didn't know why Solveig's parents had withheld the truth about Erlend from her. Maybe they never knew how to explain it; maybe they'd meant to tell her when she was older, and had waited and waited until there was never a good time to bring it up; maybe they'd done it to protect her.

Anna knew what it was to have a truth withheld in the name of protection. And, in her experience, it was never worth it.

"Because Erlend is a changeling, Solveig," she said, as gently as she could.

Solveig's shoulders slumped and she looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry," Anna whispered.

Solveig pushed away from the table and bolted out the door, leaving Anna to wonder if she did the right thing.


August 9, 1848–Nowhere and Everywhere

Kristoff opened his eyes and jolted upright with a choked cry. His head hurt, and he screwed his eyes shut against the pain, pressing his palms against his eyelids. When he opened his eyes again and withdrew his hands, they came back red—thin cuts crisscrossed his palms, bleeding sluggishly.

He stumbled to his feet. He was no longer lost in the woods but back within the Valley of the Living Rock, standing atop his bed of moss. There was no sign of Bulda. The mist still clung to every rock and tree.

He let his feet take him to the main gathering place in the center of the Valley. There were no signs of life anywhere; no trolls, no animals. No signs of Sven or Anna.

He was completely and utterly alone.

Until he squinted and saw a lone troll, a cloak of moss draped across his shoulders, standing at the entrance to the Valley, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun.

"Grand Pabbie?" Kristoff whispered, drawing closer.

The elder troll turned to face him. "It's time, Kristoff."

"Time?" Kristoff's headache pulsed. "Time for what?"

"You will see. Now, go. She's waiting for you."

Kristoff's heart leaped. "Anna?"

Pabbie didn't answer. With a wave of his hand, the mist cleared until a path was visible, winding its way out of the valley.

Kristoff hesitated. "So I just…walk out of here?"

Pabbie nodded.

Still, Kristoff didn't move. "Will I…can you—can you give me the rest of my memories?"

Pabbie fixed him with a level stare. "I believe you already know the answer to that question. But I will answer your next one: it would have been crueler to let you keep them."

Kristoff drew in a ragged breath.

"Why me?" he whispered.

"A trade was necessary; a trade was made. And Bulda loved you." Pabbie smiled. "You were a boon to us, child. We were proud to count you as a member of our family. But what is ours has been returned, and so we must return what is theirs. Now. Go."

And Kristoff went. He took one step out of the valley, then another, and another.

When he thought to look back, Pabbie was gone, and all that remained was a wall of solid stone.


August 9, 1848—Hamar

Solveig couldn't find Erlend.

She'd noticed his absence almost immediately, but couldn't leave when the Queen and former-Queen were sitting at her kitchen table, talking about memory-stealing trolls and creepy huldras and–and changelings.

It wasn't true, it can't be true.

Of course it was true.

Solveig had always known Erlend was different. Something had always been a little bit…off with her older brother, a fact that made her fiercely protective of him. But, even in their small community, there were others like him—people who were different, who spoke strangely or not at all, who couldn't quite meet your eyes.

Besides, Erlend had never once acted like the changelings in all the stories she'd heard: those changelings would eat you out of house and home and destroy your property before getting sick and dying, and Erlend had never done any of those things.

That she knew of, anyway. Who knows how he acted before she got old enough to remember—who knows what other secrets her parents and uncle were keeping from her.

Solveig can feel the fury at their secrecy fizzling under her skin, but she kept ahold of it as best she could. She would release it later, screaming into the fields, but right now, she needs to find her brother.

Solveig, I need to go, he'd said this morning, and she still didn't understand what he meant, but she didn't like any of the implications.

She'd jogged nearly the entire length of the western and northern field before she spotted him, standing on the edge of the forest, watching her.

He was unnaturally still when she ran up to him, sweaty and out of breath, her braid in shambles.

"Erlend," she huffed. "What–what are you doing out here?"

Erlend didn't say anything. Slowly, he turned and pointed to the trees.

Solveig shook her head. "I don't—I don't understand." She bit her lip. "Erlend—Erlend, the Queen said, she said you're a—a—"

She couldn't say it aloud. But when Erlend turned and looked at her, his blue eyes glimmering, she knew he knew what she meant.

Tears blurred her vision. "No," she said, blinking fiercely. "No, you can't be—you never told me! I—I tell you everything, how could you—how could you keep this from me—"

Erlend took her hand. Squeezed it. "Solveig," he said, cutting her off. "I have to go."

Solveig shook her head, clinging to his hand. "No."

"Solveig—"

"You can't go, you—you can't just leave me—"

"Solveig."

As Erlend smiled at her, his entire countenance brightened. It was the happiest she'd ever seen him.

Slowly, gently, he pried his hand from hers.

"Wait here," he said. "He's coming."

"Who's coming?" Solveig asked, bewildered.

Erlend didn't answer. He turned to go.

"What will I do without you?" Solveig cried. "I don't care what they say—changeling or not, you're my brother, Erlend, and I love you!"

But if he heard her, he gave no indication. As Solveig watched and wept, he passed between two trees and was gone.


This time, Kristoff really was lost in the woods.

He'd been walking for what seemed like hours as the shadows grew long around him. The forest was silent—unnaturally so—and the further he went, the slower he walked, as if he were wading through deep water.

Suddenly, he felt compelled to stop.

Up ahead of him on the path, a man was walking toward him. There was something strange about his face, but Kristoff was unable to focus on him. His eyes kept sliding off and then away, to the man's feet or to his side.

He braced himself (for what, he couldn't say) but the other man didn't slow and, in a matter of moments, disappeared around a bend in the road.

And all at once, something gave out. Sound snapped back into place—once more Kristoff could hear the wind in the trees, and the calls of birds. The colors were brighter. He could move freely.

He ran. Undergrowth whipped at his legs, low tree branches scratched his cheeks until, finally, he came to a break in the trees and a wide open field and fading sunlight.

He ran halfway into the field before slowing to a stop, bending over to put his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

Somewhere on his right came a quiet sniffle, and he jerked his head up to squint through sweaty bangs.

Before him stood a young woman. Her half-braided hair was the same color as his own. Her face was red and blotchy. When she saw him, she hastily wiped her cheeks.

"Solveig?" he breathed.

She hesitated. "Kristoff?"

He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

Solveig took a small step toward him. Took a deep breath.

"I think I…I'm here to bring you home."


Notes:

1. "Hest" means horse in Norwegian…look, I thought it was funny, okay?

2. "Brunost" is brown cheese commonly served for breakfast; "grøt" is porridge.

3. The name Erlend means "foreigner."