We do not own 'Frozen' or any of its characters.

"Frozen Again: 'Love Never Ends"

Act VIII

Chapter 3

"Fun and Games"

The small fishing village of Flåm, Norway had always prided itself on its breathtaking view. Flåm was enviably situated at the center of three of the salty sea's intersecting fjords of Sognefjord, Fjaersfjord, Naeroyfjord, as well as the freshwater Aurlandsfjorden.

The nutrition rich habitat had remained virtually untouched by any modernization, with the ocean and river equally bountiful and fresh to keep Flåm's seafood one of the most sought-after areas of the nation.

The pristine land tucked in its own lofty mountain range seclusion had a quintessential untarnished attachment to nature, from its majestic cliffs, still blue lakes, and waterfalls that freely ran down the mountains. Its more challenging rocky and untamed rugged surroundings along its deep mighty mountains and the tight passes of the fjords that ran between them were ideal for fishing in the summer, and perfect for Ice Harvesting in the winter.

"Now that's what I call a view! Ooh! Look at all the pretty colorful flags dotting the snowfields down there! The girls and boys on their sleds and reindeer and horses and all those people! They all look like little tiny ants busily running around. Or bees buzzing! No, bees fly. And are striped. And have wings. Bees, no good." In his expressive exuberance, Olaf nearly tumbles out from the front bench, had Kristoff's long arm not caught the eager snowman from plummeting the two hundred meter drop. The blond strongman hooks Olaf onto Sven's antler cage by the scruff of his ice bow tie that Elsa had nicely dressed him in earlier to attend the Winter Games.

"Don't be getting too nervous about slipping and sliding at breakneck speed, racing on those deep steep cliffs down there with your fifty pound ice cakes, Kristoff! Doesn't just saying 'ice cake' make you hungry, Sven? Though, I doubt there is much gluten present in an ice cake, since it's mainly comprised of frozen water." Talkative and informative as ever, Olaf was prattling now to the flying reindeer he was leisurely tangled in the antlers and reins thereof.

"Yeah. They're fifty-seven pounds of solidly frozen H2O each. But, thanks for the encouragement, Olaf. See that red checkered flag way down between the mountain pass back there?" The ice experienced mountain man points out a marker to the snowman dangling as the reindeer discreetly lands behind the mask of a hilly rise to use his powerful legs again on the ground of the snow-covered valley.

The compact racing single sled moves towards the small fishing village under the shadow of the Jötunheimr (or land of the giants) mountain peak. It was part of the highest range in all Scandinavia, and reached over 8000 feet at one point to tower over their target destination of Flåm. It was here this year's invitation for the Ice Harvester's Association inscribed would be the location of their bi-annual Winter Games.

There was a surprising amount of sleds and sleighs, wagons and toboggans, even dog harnessed vehicles of all shapes and sizes where many sporting folk had already gathered at the Flåm harbor and been occupied with their individual sports matches for the past week.

"Umm… You mean that tiny widdle red and white triangle thing on the pole in between the mountains blocked by that humongous boulder with the funky fungus mold grown all over it?" Olaf asks with one eye closed and the other peering to his rounded finger branches as he tries to telescope the landscape, kicking himself for losing his Hans' taught, nifty maritime travel telescope in one somewhere along the way.

"Yep. That's the halfway mark flag. And if you look far down this road, there's a blue and white one at the valley entrance near the port at the finishing line." Kristoff patiently explains like a father to a young child at Olaf's insatiable curiosity.

"So Baby just has to be the first and fastest to drive between here and there! We've got that covered. Easy Street." The forever optimistic, over-confident, wide-eyed snow creature had never seen so many different sights and sounds as he shows off the 'we' part of 'got this' to Eliana and Bonnie, who were more interested in chatting with one another than the blustery snow creature.

"Well…kind of. I gotta do some serious climbing and Ice Harvesting in between." Kristoff modestly clarifies to the snowman.

"And you're really going to do it with no ice magic, no flying reindeer, no super powered bow and arrow? Wow. You're really brave." Olaf relates when he overheard Kristoff explaining to his wife and sister-in-law about his own 'Fair play contest rules' earlier in the day.

"Sure, we gotcha, Kristly! This is real important to you to accomplish this feat of rugged mountain man versus mother Nature alongside fellow worthy competitors, fair and square. I'm with you 100% of the way! But…maybe we should stop to eat breakfast first? You know what they say about starting the day off right!" Princess Anna was always hungry. Heck, she was always, always hungry, part and parcel of the fully energized, nonstop go-getter gal kinda thing.

And lately, more than ever!

"Elsa told me she was going to stash the Snow Queen's carriage and hide the horses somewhere behind that misty mountain up yonder where you said the games wouldn't be headed. I hope Alonso's plush chariot makes it in time before the race starts. Either way, I'll be sure to reserve a good front row seat for all four of us." Anna says her where she was busily attending to something behind Kristoff in Baby's cramped back seat.

"Unless you wanna take Olaf as your mascot on your sled?" Anna speaks up for her hopeful, eyelash fluttering little friend who had been begging her all ride to be allowed to go 'mountaineering with the men' for the past hundred or so miles.

Kristoff just had to give her just a mere sideways glance for Anna to know the answer to that silly question.

"Sorry, Olaf. You definitely fall under the 'no magic to stay anonymous and incognito' list someone brilliant made up so we have a tougher time belaying and rapporting and traversing the underclings." Anna enunciates the big covert meaning list of words as she calmly explains her honest young Snow Prince's request for normalcy in these games to be equanimous to the other regular participants.

"What do you even know about those words, Anna?" A tense Kristoff snidely comments to his argumentative wife while lumbering out of the small carriage to give Sven some nutritional energy boost bars which Kristoff had ingeniously stewed together, designed for this high speed, energy spurt demanding race.

"A lot, Kristopher!" The annoyed, peevish ginger spits out his purposely incorrect name like when they first met. A flood of memories from their first high-speed sleigh ride suddenly come back to Princess Anna of Arendelle in bits and pieces...


'Hang on! We like to go fast!'

'I like fast!'

'Hey! Get your feet down, that's fresh lacquer! Seriously, were you raised in a barn?'

'No, a castle.'

'You mean to tell me you got engaged to a man you just met, that day?

'Pay attention, Hans is not a stranger.'

Okay, you frighten me! All I'm sayin' is when you go to climb a mountain
You don't just jump to the top.

'If it's true love you can!'

What do you know about love?

There's scalin' and scramblin' and too many steps for countin'
And the work doesn't stop.
Love's not an easy climb
You have to take your time.

'Are you some kind of love expert?'

We get a whole life
That's the plan.

That's not a plan.
Love's not a thing you just get,
It's work and tears and sweat.
What do you know about love?

So says a sweaty smelly mountain man.

'I'm not buying it!'

Anyone with half a brain
would have worn some winter gear.

Anyone with half a life
would have one friend who's not a deer.

Any fool who jumps headlong is gonna bang their head!

Any fool who doesn't jump right
Is gonna probably end up dead!

'I got this! Just don't fall off. And don't get eaten.
Whoa!'

But I want to help!

'No! I don't trust your judgment!'

'Who gets engaged to a man she just met?'

'It's true love!'

You've got to think things through in life and in love.

Touché
I'd like to point out that we've come a good long way here
And that you're...wow...really strong.

I lift a lot of ice

You saved my life just now
I guess I gotta say here
My first impression was wrong

With miles and miles to go
I guess it's nice to know
That I can trust you

Though the question still remains
What do you know about love?


After she relives the colorful past memory set to her heart's embellished music, imaginative Anna's bad temper had subsided into a dreamy smile. She realizes that both a lonely Princess and a stubborn Ice Harvester had discovered the answer to that pressing question in their incredible real true love for one another along this amazing journey called life that gave them one another.

Anna then emerges from where she had been ducking down in the back of the confined rear seat for the past several minutes.

But it was what conspicuously sat above that vexed pie-hole of the firebrand vivacious Princess that got Kristoff to nearly drop the bucket he was watering Sven with.

"What in heck are you wearing under your nose, Baby?" A stunned Kristoff was caught between weirded-out appalled and tickled pink amused to see his headstrong cutie donning not only a full, wide shouldered, men's coat and slacks outfit, scruffy Russian trapper ushanka fur earflap hat and all. But she was donning a moustache cut out of her own orangey braids and applied with a bit of tar and sticky honey mixed as glue.

"I'm going with you, Kristly, as your coach! Dressed like this, I can blend in and stand at the trainers' bullpen with all the other guys to get a real up-close and personal front row seat!" Looks like they can watch the race with telescopes and maps and everything in that restricted section over there we passed, so I won't miss a second of the thrilling action when I say that you're my athlete entrant!" Beneath the funny disguise was still that excitable Princess, appearing rather odd and off-balanced wearing all that fur bulked up, oversized male clothing thickened with wads of newspaper. She was swaying on a padded extra pair of Kristoff's boots she had bought in the store to make her taller during a call of nature stop on the road.

But in Kristoff's pragmatic eyes, the resourceful young woman couldn't have looked more ridiculous to her blinking boy.

"You can't be serious, Anna. You can't mix in with all those rugged older men with bad manners and coarse language! It's too rough in there for my girl to hang out with! Besides, those mountain men trainers are not going to believe you're one of them for one second!" In a hushed voice, her horrified young husband, who had grown up in the rough-and-tumble Ice Harvester's camp for many years of his life, knew firsthand how unsavory crude even the best of mountaineers could be. Especially when they were in their social element of just killing time 'with the guys', no ladies present for them to even strive to display any manners at all to one another.

"Hmph! You should know by now that I am not some scaredy little girl, Buster! I know what it means to be an iceman! If I tell you to jump, you had better jump very damn high, without any lip, boy!" Anna tightens her jaw and puts on her meanest face in a lowered, gruff voice to be – if not manly – at least stern and demanding. With arms waving around and a bottle of akvavit sticking out of her pocket for attitude, a cussing Anna smacks Kristoff's shocked shoulder hard.

She was believably doing her dandiest to mimic the masculine traits she had picked up on whenever they visited the Ice Harvester's camp. Not to mention all the adventures she has had lately with foul-mouthed pirates and thieves and all sorts of men in between.

To top it off for good performance's sake, Anna hacks up a wad of spittle masterfully to the ground between Kristoff and Sven's grossed out feet.

"Whoa!" It's all the big blond could say in astonishment of his brassy little wife's rough tough transformation.

"Ye'd better listen to what yer bossman says, Lil Kris! Urgh...Sounds like your tough new master might tan your backside with a fair whupping!" A bent over old man who had lived in the mountains all of his life limps up to where 'Coach' Anna was poking a finger in the eight-pack-abs chest of the cowed boy-athlete being trained.

"This fella's a lot different than your last trainer! Ole Ragi was so quiet ye wouldn't even know he was in the room kind of manager, Boyo. Maybe this one'll stoke more fire in your belly! You'd better be doing something good to catch up after arriving so late to the games!" The crotchety old mountainman never forgot a face, even this unmanly blond orphan youth who often got cursed out or walloped one for not being 'like the other guys', for instance having one and only friend – that being a just as scrawny reindeer.

"Don't know if me memory's slipping, but I can't quite place your face in all me years of traveling with the mountain folk, Coach…?" Though Kristoff was familiar, even filling in with proper muscle structure and up as the boy grew, the old gray face searches Anna's baffling one, trying to place the round, wide turquoise-eyed, ginger moustache mug, but coming up dry.

"Ole Jules! It's been a long time!" Kristoff shakes off his disorientation, taking the old gent's offered handshake in Anna's place, and replacing it with the bottle of akvavit from her pocket. He was glad to see a recognizable face in this bustling mountain near camp.

Ole Jules was like a fixture around whatever mountain men encampment Kristoff had ever visited in the past. The fragile elderly gentleman by now had a cane, big ears, a long nose and single squinted eye and was as old as the hills. But he would always carry on a pleasant conversation with anyone who cared to give him a swig of a drink.

"Haven't seen ye in a long time, Lil Kris! Ye and good ole Sven! How the hell have ye've been doing? Seen old Ragi anytime lately? Haven't been around in a coon's age! What a guy. He could put away two mugs of the anti-fogmatics without blinking an eye for slurring a single letter. What a guy!" Old Jules knew everyone by name in every camp he ever traveled. Over the years Kristoff had spent with the Ice Harvesters, Jules always had a year-round tin cup out to take whatever form of fortifying liquid was offered by the generosity of his fellow man who all had a soft spot for their constant toothless friend.

"Didn't exactly catch the name of your new training coach, Lil Kris. I thought I heard you say 'Anna' before, but that be a woman's name! And this burly, forceful gent sure tain't one of thems! Won't rub such a cantankerous fella the wrong way as soon as we meet! Maybes an old man's ears aren't always up to snuff, are they? Won't have Ole Jules be said to neglect welcoming a new face proper-like into our select group of border ruffians. Now if ye'd just give me a name to put that right?" The strangely interested, stubborn old coot wouldn't let a suspiciously unique specimen like this new friend of Lil Kris' slip by. Not without routing out the acquaintance of the equally wobbly on 'his' unsteady feet stranger who had an odd shaped, pudgy around the gut frame, and face too pale to be a wandering Saami mountaineer beneath that wide fur hood.

The elderly man with the big brimming smile holds a hand out to Anna for another curious try at a hand shake.

"… My name? Ahem…cough-cough! I mean, my name is…ummm…Ananias! Yep that's what my boys all call me. Coach Ananias!" She conjures a sonorous moniker, quickly shifting her soprano to a more scratchy deep voice. Anna furrows her eyebrows and strokes her blended ginger mixed, false moustache, copying how her Papa did when he was being all lordly pompous and in charge.

Looking over to an exasperated, toothy Kristoff, then a dutifully frozen in place Olaf in the back of the sled, she purses her lips, trying to pull this one over with an arrogant, blustery air.

"Well, Ananias. Care to whet yer whistle before we get yer boy registered down there at the harbor?" The crookedly smirking man peeks over at her with the challenge beneath one peering eye.

"Don't mind if I do!" A dared Anna, to Kristoff's dropped jaw, accepts a quick swig of his rejuvenating draught without her knees buckling for choking from the moonshine that could wake up the dead from the mountain freezing cold.

But she withstood it, with a convincing hoot whistle from her mouth that no lady would have evinced in a public crowd.

"By the horn spoon, that fixed me flint! (Wow! That settles that for me!) C'mon, ye stoutheated fella!" Satisfied in testing this new so-called coach, the squint-eyed old timer seemed thoroughly convinced of Anna's manly mannerisms as he slaps her on the back with a guffaw.

"Yep! That's good stuff, Ole Jules! It'll put hair on your chest! Where in heck do we sign up for registration? I feel ornery enough to bite open a can of corned beef now!" Flushed cheeks and warm insides were no match for perky Anna of Arendelle's resolve when she put her wild mind to it. Before Kristoff's wide, bulgy eyes, he watches her replace the crooked moustache dangling on her cheek after she had wiped her lips with the back of her sleeve like some ill mannered drunk.

"I don't see no one else you brought around… Guess Ananias looks pretty strapping enough to serve as your ice catcher, Lil Kris, in this team-up last match! He's a bit weird in the face, and a ginger at that – but he looks sound solid and gutsy to partner up with ye! No girly men here, b'hoys!" Old Jules gives Anna a rousing slap on the back, causing the girl nursing the mouthful of bitter booze she did not want to swallow too much of all at once spit out. Most of the revitalizing 'elixir' dribbles all over the side of the sleigh of a repugnant and glowering, curly-haired mountainman they whistle pass by.

"That's for good luck." With a thumb's up affable gesture, 'Ananais' salutes the dark-cloud angry muscleman who was several inches taller than even her Kristoff. Fortunately, the young man's grandiose father chose just that moment to walk up, and any ill-will skirmish was averted.

For now.

"But – no – I mean – I thought the last competition was a one man versus nature event! Ananias isn't going with me! She – he's better off staying down here with you other coaches cheering us on, right?" Kristoff sputters, not noticing Anna's near scuffle in his alarm, as the older man lets that undesirable cat out of the bag.

The blond Ice Harvester begins to freak out at the prospect of his feisty wife tagging along on his he-man nature hike contest of wills that she didn't sign up for.

"Yep. Usually that's how it goes. But some newfangled ninnies wanted shake it up for a change this year and promote some no-account teamwork contests. Dang foolish politics if you ask me. But there it is." Glancing disdainfully at the nearby mayor of this county who also doubled as the Ice Harvesters Association chairman, the old man was too set in his ways to cotton to any innovations. So, he chews on a piece of tobacco and spits it out on the pathway himself in front of a montage of political signs.

He didn't care for this constant campaigning for the regular citizens' votes during these Winter Games in which politics weren't supposed to mess with. But something about Coach Ananias' winning manner made the elderly bloke eager to rubberneck this one he was going to sit out because the system was so obviously rigged for the mayor's varmint son anyway.

"Lead the way to the table to get us signed up for that two-man tag team contest, Old Jules! My boy and I will show those fellas how it's done! He'll wipe the floor with them in a knockout one-two punch for the big contest, and he'll definitely take the big prize in this last tournament of the Winter Games! Let's get going, Lil Kris!" P-tooie!

Spit!

Anna was really getting into her role as she speaks and spits with such vigor that the hairy moustache nearly flies off her face again with her booze-pungent breath. She throws Kristoff's disliked, unpopular childhood nickname over her padded shoulder with a shrugging march forward, punctuated by some top class expectorating along the sizzling snow dusted road.

"Now that's the spirit! Maybe you fellas riding in the sleek little sled number can best that rotten bully boy, Kaare Aall. He's a self-satisfied blowhard just like the biggest toad in the puddle, his Pops, Mayor Aall, before him. He's taken nearly every one of the other trophies by some perfidious trick or another, and has been boasting of making a clean sweep this year with the final tournament contest to put the icing on his dirty cake. The way that shifty gym rat swaggers around, if I were twenty years younger, I'd like to try to whip him meself. But these old decrepit bones are far too creaky for all the heavy lifting and moving around at such a quick pace." The elderly man looked so crooked and bent out of shape it was amazing he could still walk erect.

"Now, you two strapping young fellows look well up to the challenge! I seems to remember you had a run-in or two with that spoiled brat, dodgy politician's son Kaarn, Lil' Kris, when you were a wee lad. Wasn't there something about him tying you up to dangle off that frozen bollard all night, had Sven not pulled ye up when ye were just wee things learning yer ice anchors? Oh what I wouldn't give to wipe that superior expression off that smug politician's hollow-hearted face!" The verbose old man was getting pretty rambunctious himself, swinging his aged arms and fists around with some scrawny leg action to animate his volatile point.

Obviously having a beef with the local political father and son duo, Jules' shriveled fingers gesture to where an impressive looking lad with a curly mane of dark black hair and an even darker black beard was tauntingly whipping his pair of ebony black Dole Trotter steeds. He apparently was keeping them hungry in between competitions to unscrupulously keep the usually tame and sedate horse breed in a frenzy.

"Don't worry, old Jules. We'll take him down a peg. Right, Lil' Kris? Good thing you gots me to partner up with so we can teach that bully a lesson he will never forget." 'Ananias' seemed to be enjoying her character upgrade as both promoter and competitor as she throws herself into the role, as Princess Anna always did, both feet first.

"Fine. Right. Whatever you say… Coach." With a head shake and a resigned smirk as the frozen in place Olaf sniggers in delight, Kristoff throws up his hands and just concedes to Anna's superior will. He grins churlishly at his Princess bride acting all forceful and masculine like a steam engine, whereas the peak condition athlete was standing there slack-jawed feeling run over in unmanly blondness.

"Yeah! Cough cough! I mean, let's win this like real men!" Anna overemphasizes her act, smacking a big gloved fist into the other so hard they both smarted. But she silently hides her owwing in Olaf's direction. Then the mind-racing gal spies something in a moment of inspiration to see a young teen just finishing drawing some team-spirited signs and selling snacks for his folks.

"Let me borrow that paint brush, kid. I've got to reserve some seats for our adoring fans first, so they don't have to punch anyone out when the toughies get here." Not forgetting to keep the façade of a tough guy on, Ananias begins scribbling in large print letters across the table cloth after ripping off a long chunk of the boy's leftovers, just like she imagined a rude man would do.

"Come on, Sven. Looks like were gonna not be alone in the race this year."

"HOMN!" The listening reindeer nods enthusiastically, for he loved sunshiny Princess Anna almost as much as his buddy Kristoff.

Before following Anna's lead like a faithful puppy dog, Kristoff, with a sigh, unloads Olaf into the upper bleachers for a great choice view of the mountain lake target, far in the distance. Then he guides his Rangifer and sled named Baby (in someone's honor) towards the section of the harbor where all the other Ice Harvesters were gathered with their sleds and sleighs and other carriage vehicles, all ready and rearing for the impending annual Ice Harvesters Competition to start.

But not before an overdressed in men's garments Anna quickly waddles up the bleacher stands to decorate a perpetually smiling Olaf with something special.


The short days of the polar nights here in the mountainous midwest of Norway were crisp and cool, but not half as blustery as they had been last time Queen Elsa of Arendelle had come through the midsection of her country.

It seems like such a long time ago now, Hans. I felt like I was a different person then. Oh, how I miss having you hold me in your arms, without any reservation. I know now how much I am loved – how much you love me — and it makes me feel so strong! But I still wish you were here with me to talk to, even just to be near you.

Contented to have her fiancé's love letters in the folder on her lap, now read and reread engraved upon her heart, the doe-eyed blonde gives a squeeze to the new hand carved cameo pendant at her neck.

With a serenely purring Bruni concealed in the frosted long white fur of her shoulder mantle, Elsa gazes over the wondrous winter wonderland that would never again be an Eternal Winter, for the peace and love in her assured heart.

"I bet you'll enjoy this race as much as I. You too, Gale. But remember you two, no matter what the outcome, we promised Anna there would be no magical interference. For Kristoff's 'honest male psyche', okay?" Poking a chilled finger at Bruni's tickled tummy and swirling her other gifted finger in the air expectantly waiting for the Wind Spirit to affirmatively nod the icicles hanging on a nearby tree, Elsa recites Anna's worded warning concerning her guy.

Kristoff Bjorgman was the soul of integrity and genuinely wished to compete on his own terms as a man – no psychic Snow Prince nor Spirit Whisperer superpower involved whatsoever.

"We won't ruin this special moment for Anna's authentic husband. If he wins, it will be something of his own doing to be proud of. And if he loses…" Elsa giggles when Bruni puffs his cheeks out until the held back smoke within this little dragon ploofs flat in allegory comparison. With a smile as she walked briskly back to the others, Elsa overlooks the Flåm harbor where Anna and Kristoff had gone ahead with Sven and Olaf to enter into the Winter Games.

Her funny little sister Anna had already told Elsa about her secret plan to dress up and act as Kristoff's coach/manager, once the Ice Harvester explained how this three-part finale to the weeklong tournament usually went off.

The most experienced mountain men would pit their strength and speed and iron wills against one another in a mountain ice triathlon of sorts. With all due haste, the leading Ice Harvester would travel from the harbor, through the valley and up the steep mountain to the ice lake some eighty feet above on the lateral mountain plateau.

With a supplied eight tooth saw, the Ice Harvester would use his muscle to slice through the over seven inch thick ice to create a pair of perfectly matching sized 'ice cakes'. They split off the special ice shapes with the breaking bar to leave no lips - marks - on the precise blocks which they would then lower down to be loaded onto their awaiting vehicle below.

Then, the cut twelve inch sized blocks, weighing over fifty pounds apiece, would be packed in sawdust and leather wrapping for safe travel, each tied down before being hauled back to the mountain as quickly as possible, while still maintaining the un-cracked non-chipped ice cakes. The pair of blocks would be judged by the Ice Harvesting expert panel for proper depth, squareness and unblemished product, all owing to the challenger's skill with the saw blade, care with the mountain lifting and transport descent, and smooth driving their vehicle to deliver the prized ice to the judges in the least time as possible.

To Ice Queen Elsa, this contest would have been a rather quick and easy fluid process of her mental cryo-kinesis. But she did realize how difficult a task, in fact – a feat – for the normal human being not endowed with magic ice powers to so rapidly accomplish in the specified limited amount of time.

To top it off, her feisty younger sibling Anna insisted on posing as her brother-in-law's training coach so she could be part of the action right in the thick of it. For women were deemed neither strong or determined enough in this mid-19th century to train with the misogynistic Ice Harvesters. So, headstrong Anna decided to wear a more male outfit that Gerda had expediently crafted, with a customized pullover in the men's fashion once her pale blue velvet poofy skirt was removed on their journey. The clothing would easily cover and attach over Anna's more feminine and adorable Christmas goat and bell embroidered jacket.

Okay, it was a crazy, outlandish notion in this modest Victorian era. But if it was something Anna had a bee in her bonnet and wished to do, her big sister Elsa would absolutely support her.

No matter how undreamt and unheard of an idea it was to the shy and reticent Ice Queen, with sweet bubbly Anna around, you get used to loving 'crazy'.

"Earth to Elsa. We're all settled up here. You done poring over that book report and finally ready for me to take you to the races, chica?" Prince Alonso's scratchy voice flirts as he leans towards Elsa with lowered eyelids, dismissing her hours spent reading – of all the wasted efforts – rather than soak up his proffered attentions. The wavy brown haired Argentinian had sauntered up to the platinum blonde beauty who had been delicately seated in his chariot she had disattached from the Snow Queen's wagon train after they found a safe and secluded place to land.

"… Oh… Forgive my rudeness… Prince Alonso… I was lost in thought…" Elsa was so absorbed in thinking about Anna, and then Hans in anticipation of rereading one of his spicier diary entries she had been perusing in the passenger seating, that Prince Alonso catches the Queen of Arendelle off guard.

"If I may interrupt your Royal Majesty? Your Royal Highness. Ahem." Kai takes this awkward opportunity to speak up for his Queen. "Prince Alonso, we are entrusting you to drive carefully and be vigilant while you are responsible for the safe transport of Her Majesty Queen Elsa to attend these Ice Harvester Winter Games." Kai speaks condescendingly in his snobbish voice at the visiting young South American Prince.

"Once in attendance, I expect you to upkeep her noble rank as best you can aspire that she is treated with utmost respect, even if Mr. Bjorgman requested both of you to remain anonymous as to your Royal status as not to disrupt the flow of the competition." Knowing what his friend King Agnarr would do and say had he been there, it pained Chief Minister Kai to leave instruction for his Royal monarch's safety to the hands of anyone else, no less this reckless foreign rascal.

But Prince Alonso insisted that his small chariot could not safely house all three of them, particularly not the large-set man in the vehicle's insignificant backseat not designed for a third passenger.

It didn't help that Alonso viewed this sports outing as one last opportunity at some 'fun' down time with the fetching young Queen.

Hey, I've gotta help this uptight majestic lady learn to wind down properly! Consider that my royal birthday gift to you, pretty Ice Queen. The wondrous gift to feel free to attend some fun and games…

His catchphrase on his mind, Prince Alonso distractedly watches as Elsa's reserved grace and platinum beauty are covered up by a hooded cloak over her extremely clean and lackluster cotton dress. With a crinkled nose that matched his lopsided smirk down at himself, Alonso pulls up the dreadful drab collar of the supplied plaid shirt over his own black and gold trimmed, tailored jacket's always gorgeous style.

"Have no fear, your Majesty, I will ride by steed at your transport's rear down to the harbor in order to purchase our final supplies and send a letter back to Arendelle. I must to inform Chancellor Esteban that the King and Queen – if not already present – will soon arrive, and our party will shortly follow sometime late in the evening tomorrow. I will soon return, Gerda dear, once this little racing contest is accomplished and my letter to the Castle has been sent." The balding older man calmly explains, bestowing a tender kiss to his plump wife's cheek before taking great pains to mount the Queen's golden fjord horse, Sitron, who suffers the obese Cabinet Minister's immense weight bravely.

"Oo-kay. My privileged team of Criollo stallions will be sure to safely take Elsa and myself down in my chariot to enjoy these quaint Winter Games. See if you can keep up, old timer. That is, if you boys don't mind a touch of acceleration down these exhilarating mountain paths in the few hours of daytime we have left." With a respectful nod to his horses came the snide little dare under his breath at Kai that only Elsa's ears were able to hear as she was waving goodbye to Eliana and Boninite who were busily tidying up the Snow Queen's carriage.

The incognito Arendelle Queen raises an eyebrow at her naughty companion who simply responds with a flash of a devastating smile as he picked up the reins – not the whip – of Estable and Lento to direct them forward at whatever speed pleased them down the snowy hill.

Then the pair of eager Criollos exchanges a glance and exerts themselves to race Alonso's chariot at teeth-chattering speed along the Aurlandsfjorden, down towards the Flåm valley below.

"Yes… Prince Hansome – or rather, Sitron? – please do your best to follow that chariot. Just perhaps, at a less reckless quality of travel?" Intellectual bookworm, Councilmember Kai was not all that familiar with horses, and horseback riding without a carriage even less.

But kindhearted Sitron recognized that inclination of his rider. So, the fjord stallion acquiesces to indeed remain stable to give a smooth ride while still keeping some modicum of pace with Alonso's trailblazing chariot.

As for Elsa, she clutches tight to her new cameo along the bumpy ride, finding a level of calm and tranquility in its physical attachment close to her heart, as memories of his romantic sentiment beats piqued palpitations hot and strong—emotionally speaking.

'I love you, Elsa Bernadotte, as I have never loved any before, and never will another, since the Lord blessed an unworthy man such as I with your merciful and forgiving affection.'

'How I long to feel you in my arms again, min kæreste, and claim you as my wife.'

"Oh, Hans, you are a rascal. Hee hee hee…"

The blushing, titillated smile tickling at the Queen's moist lips reflected her exhilarated sensation as the young woman feels Gale's mischievous wind flutter through her done-up hair and her just as playful lover's sentiment in her heart over which the Fire Spirit was peacefully napping making warm breaths melt the snowy white fur mantle.

As his passanger strokes the stunning profile of carved ivory depiction of her winsome fiancé, Prince Alonso is spurred to be envious of that lucky Dane once again, making the normally overconfident young man wonder what that Hans had that he himself was lacking.

Is that the same 'missing something' you were looking for way back then, Valentina? Some twaddle about romancing a girl straight to the heart by making her feel like the most important person in the world. And not my handsome self in the mirror's reflection? Can any person honestly say in the mirror that the most important one isn't yourself?

The conceited young Prince of Córdoba was experiencing some peculiar, novel notions entering his shell-like brain for the first time in his spoiled life. Alonso brushes his Wind tousled bangs away impulsively. But they enigmatically kept being flustered askew all the ride down as the Argentinean Prince was peering up from the corner of his curious eyes at his traveling companion.

Elsa was oblivious to the world in a lovestruck, drooling gaze at just the mere representation carved in ivory, of a man she believed so selfless.

Maybe because Prince Hans of the Southern Isleshad grown fool enough to live up to that entirely womanly dream.


"On your marks… get set… GO!"

BANG!

It wasn't long after team Kristoff and his new Ice Harvesting partner 'Ananias' had checked their names on the registry chalkboard to gain last minute entry, that the final two-man contest of the Winter Games began with a startling gunshot.

Like a smooth black bullet, 'Baby's' freshly polished runners and lacquered varnished chassis zips up the road and across the open field at a blinding rate. Its aerodynamics of springs and special rigging - that Kristoff had prided himself at installing personally - made the compact sled designed for a one reindeer pull, faster than any of the other competitors to race out of the dirt road of Flåm harbor.

In that same harbor, Elsa and Alonso arrived just a few minutes before the last match began, deftly moving in to blend with the foreign speaking tourists, colorful Saami travelers, and burly mountain men of all sizes and ages avidly watching.

This competition was the height of the Winter Games with many seaside visitors from their surrounding fishing communities joining the mountain men. There were many quiet Saami natives who had ventured down from the North country to sell their reindeer wears and vibrant blankets that were all part of the rustic charm of this village.

Amid all the excited cheering crowds and bustle and hustle, Queen Elsa, along with a constantly complaining, hesitant sports fan Prince Alonso, had dressed much more modestly in the far less regal clothing of the citizenry. They had opted for plain cotton and tweed outfits rather than the ostentation of crown heads that would surely have the pair of royals stand out in the crowd.

As she searches for Anna, who promised to hold them some seats, Elsa did not wish to cause a stir or disrupt the regular flow of the fun and games the tournament represented. For just a few precious minutes in her life, the Royal Queen monarch of this nation wanted to share in her people's excitement and Christmas time joy of the season that the recent scare of the devil and foul weather did not douse, like any normal twenty-four going on twenty-five-year-old young woman could.

Gazing across the sea of happy faced children and men and women cheering with all the noise of festivity, the platinum blonde beauty secretly glances over at Alonso's not-so-stunning profile in the blinding sun of midday. She momentarily imagines that he could have been her Hans – with his beautiful chin, sharp celestial nose, gorgeous green eyes, and deep red hair aflame in the sun's rays – and what it would have been like if her special young man had been here beside her instead.

Just the two them side-by-side, without any guards, nor entourage, chaperones, nor work cares, searching for empty seats in the packed sports bleachers that had been put up along the finish line side of the roadway.

Elsa wished she was able to share this thrill hanging on her Hans' arm like so many of the other couples standing at the sidelines, cheering on their favorite competitors while enjoying their chosen companion's company in the sheer moment excitement of the seasonal local sports.

She lets out an audible sigh - that Gale echoes in a wail of the wind - when the fleeting attractive vision flees and Elsa was left with just the dark-haired, mediocre-faced, conceited young prince and not her beautiful, modest to the point of blushing redhead.

"I don't see Anna or Olaf!" Elsa had to uncommonly speak loudly for Alonso to even hear her over the thundering crowd that was just calming down after watching the four team competitors take off for this last thrilling race. One sleigh, two sleds, and one horse-drawn cart comprised the competitors to take on this exciting Ice Harvester Winter challenge.

"Up there! Deranged snowman alert." Alonso replies to her with a smirk, growing disturbingly accustomed to the trio of moving and talking balls of ice grinning maniacally down at him in a frozen smile. "And it's holding a message. For you, I presume." Viewing that colorful and yellow paint printed cloth draped across the snowman that was, yet again, another oddity of this zany life.

"What on earth, Anna?" Elsa had to hold back the mirthful laugh as she was sporting a plain – yet still chic on her shapely form – dull cornflower blue with dark trimmed shirt jacket over the plain brown poplin skirt Gerda had tastefully selected for her Queen to attend this public event incognito. But one of Anna's brightly colored green and flowery blue cape was anything but dull. Elsa snuggles closer into it, recalling the love between sisters she'd never again forget or forsake.

The platinum blonde had to succumb to the harmonious laugh the closer they walked up the bleachers at the fairly large strip of fabric where the hand-painted words atop a familiar little snowman were in the unmistakably messy handwriting of her little sister:

'It's my favorite place to be!'

On the back of the billowing cloth between Olaf's spread wide branches were the scribbled words in Anna's less than best penmanship:

'Kristoff…coach…partner…match…me…races too! Yay! Wish us luck, Elsie!'

"Oh Anna, do be careful." Elsa says, sitting primly down among the growing crowd of spectators beside Alonso in the bench seat on either side of Olaf's statuesque seemingly inanimate mascot.

She was anxious that her cute little sister was not only dressed as a rough tough man, since she had convinced Elsa and Gerda to help her obtain clothing earlier so she would be able to hang out with Kristoff in the bullpen and stables.

But Anna would now have to perform like one, too!

She knew how enthusiastic Anna was about her travels with Kristoff up to the mountains in the North, helping him harvest ice last winter out in the bitter cold. But Elsa still could not help but chuckle nervously at the unheard of idea of a cross-dressing Princess competing alongside the roughest of men.

It's a good thing Papa is not here. He would hardly approve! Elsa subconsciously adjusts Olaf's crooked carrot nose that Anna had bobbed askew when she had attached the sign to her snowman's two branches.

"Whoo! Thanks, Elsa! I've had an awful itch to wiggle my nose on right for over twenty minutes now!" Olaf's filtered, funny voice murmurs through a paralyzed, stuck toothy grin. "Ahh-ahh-Ahhchooo!" But the animated creature's twitchy allergy to pollen acts up when a pleasantly pump old local grandmother, wearing a dried flower bouquet atop her wide brimmed hat, plunks down at a cringing Alonso's other side of the snowman.

"Why bless you, dear! Such a big sneeze for a pretty little gal. Do you have a cold, child? I should make you up some of my herbal peppermint tea after the match." The elderly couple both blamed Elsa on the other side for the massive sneeze quite unbefitting a lady – never mind a Queen. But the normal citizens didn't seem to recognize their coronated monarch as anyone out of the ordinary.

"Thank you, no. It's only allergies. A cold never bothered me anyway." The highly amused blonde covers up with an inward smile at her double entendre phrase that again reminded her of when her Hans repeated those comical terms to her.

Alonso returns after scrambling to fetch Olaf's sneezed out nose that had fallen several bleachers down, before the reserve sled dogs there chewed on it any further. Huffing and puffing from the unaccustomed exertion, Alonso plunks Olaf's orange carrot deep in his snowy screwed up face with a smug expression on his own haughty one.

But the annoying snowman couldn't say anything about it, now in mixed company, where he promised to be as still and silent as a statue.

"Ooh. Brain freeze!" In a high-pitched voice mimicking her snow buddy's, Elsa chimes in with a squeak to cover Olaf's expected utterance as she looks from the man to the woman giving her and a sniggering Alonso strange looks.

"I must be allergic to all things frozen." Elsa feels for her poor little snowman friend as she sucks on the flavored ice fruity pop that Ice Harvesting peddler was selling to the fans in the bleachers.

"You folks gotta cut this milkmaid farm girl some slack. She doesn't get out of the barn much. Too many cows to milk." The Prince of Córdoba could not restrain himself from the tease of calling the Queen of this land a simple 'farm girl who 'milks cows in barns'.

"Saucy boy." Elsa mutters with a smirk herself at his laughter in her face, again wishing someone tall, red, and handsome was in his place being excessively saucy with her.


But Elsa of Arendelle and Prince Alonso of Córdoba weren't the only members of royalty secretly incognito present at these Ice Harvester Winter Games.

"Did you hear that percussion, my love?" King Agnarr's voice in agitation stirs Queen Iduna from where she had been lullabying herself to sleep in the warmth of her husband's jacket, pressed against the pervasive scent of him.

Alone, the pair had traversed hundreds of kilometers in a matter of short hours due to the Ice King's immoderate speed. He had already requested his friend Colonel Egalité and Corona's Captain Cassandra Schmidt to continue down to Arendelle to inform Johanne and the Council back home now that the crisis had been averted in the North. All parties would be returning to Arendelle Castle shortly for Queen Elsa's birthday celebration yet scheduled in two days time.

Queen Iduna wanted to ensure that all preparations were yet underway and running smoothly with the attending guests arriving and welcomed in proper accord. Not to mention with the costumes which savoir-faire mother Iduna, with Anna's input, had imported to be available at their disposal for Elsa's masquerade birthday party.

A festive occasion where concerned and doting father King Agnarr may just have already set his own arranged plans into play, too…Plans that the good man may just have been now regretting putting into motion, however well-intentioned then…

'Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.'– Proverbs 19:21

If Iduna and Agnarr were to rendezvous with their children, who were no doubt in attendance to watch that mountain boy, the royal couple would have to hurry.

Yes, my darling, I know his name is 'Kristoff'. Can I help the euphemism for the 'choice' young man our Anna has married? You must admit, this rough around the edges 'mountainman' was hardly on the list of our dreamy flutterbudget's 'beautiful, tall and fair Prince Charming' type, fit for a royal Princess.

Cloudy vision or no, amused King Agnarr was starting to be able to make out large dark shapes now – mountains, trees, rock faces and such– enough to have allowed his tired wife to rest against him on their shared ice slide. The gallant naval officer assured her his instinct would guide him in the direction of Flåm harbor's fishing community where the Winter Games were said to take place this year.

In the quiet stillness, the loud boom of a firing shot to signal the final match's commencement startles the thought provoked King to take notice.

"Hmm?" Iduna's long lashes brush against her husband's once again strong chest, where she had been comfortably taking a nap against, to flutter awake. The Queen had only vaguely heard the firing shot in her hazy, sleepy mind, but her mate's reactionary temperature rise was perceptible enough for his wife to sit up and pay attention.

In the not too far distance to the east, there was a hustle about the crowd gathered at the harbor for the annual Ice Harvester Winter Games. There, almost all of the energized attendees were eagerly cheering on the final tournament on this last day of exciting Nordic activities.

To the west of the low-lying harbor's fishing center, the magnificent cliffs that towered on two sides of the crossing fjord tributary sported bright flag markers.

From their midair parallel vintage point, Agnarr was able to survey the lay out of the raceway path. Its wide road split into various lanes, just wide enough for a single competitor's sleigh or ice wagon. The trail extended from the field outside the port village limits and up the snowy incline that led to the moraine lake where the real ice harvesting action would take place.

"It was simply to signal that the games have already begun to commence. Damnation blazes." The Arendelle King was muttering some disappointed expletives under his frosty breath as he propels his ice sled forward at an even faster, reckless pace so as not to miss out on anymore of the competition.

"Slow down, min älskare! Last time I checked, your illustrious name was not entered in this tournament." Knowing her King was still just a man when it came to participating in viewing sports of all varieties, Iduna teases as her teeth clench in the cold winds rushing right at them. She was glad to be wearing her favorite warm shawl that Elsa had lovingly draped over Queen Iduna's shoulders before they parted in Svalbard.

"Speaking of which… We had better make a discrete landing and physically walk the remainder the way before we are spotted in all of our mystical high-flying regality. We surely do not wish to disrupt these last hours of the good people's unrestrained holiday fun." The diminutive Queen, remembering a thing or two about living life as a humble commoner, instructs her at-times-insensitive ruler to a lesser than grand, non-intrusive entrance for the suddenly appearing, uninvited Royal pair.

"But, Iduna, we will surely be tardy then! My subjects need not interrupt themselves from any frivolity due to our attendance." Agnarr intones defensively with a whine as he, albeit begrudgingly, surfaces his hovering ice platform under his wife's raised brow. The King dusts snow particles off of his long grey Naval issue cloak which Iduna straightens over his gelid shoulders. She had placed it around his shoulders since last night when they stopped by an elderly couple's home, claiming to be a naval officer and his simple bride, lost in the wilderness on a second honeymoon trip.

Which wasn't that far from the truth, taking into account the cozy cuddling the frisky pair had been clinging to one another all-night in the small, rural farmhouse that made the old farmer and his wife chuckle.

"But nonetheless, my darling, the people would be self-conscious to pay respect to their monarch King and Queen which may dampen their fun." Iduna smiles, buttoning up his common man's pea coat and tying a knit scarf around her husband's defiant chin after she re-wraps her own Saami woven, matronly shawl over her.

Her special indigo and mulberry Northuldran knit shawl, with all the unique spirit elemental symbols and designs that Elsa had wrapped around her forgiven mother's shivering shoulders before they left begins to softly glow.

"Be content that we will be spending time with our daughters, my King. At least I am certain our dutiful Elsa has enough sense to take precaution and not disturb the typical cycle of this event with any unnecessary pomp and circumstance." Iduna nods affirmatively with the assurance of their elder child's sound logic and common courtesy to her citizens was coupled with the demure young woman's own subconscious shyness among strangers.

"And our Anna?" The acquiescing father knowingly quirks a cure eyebrow down at his little wife, who laces her arm into his after a reflective moment's pause.

"Hopefully, Elsa has enough sense to keep counsel for the both of them. I don't envy her that undesirable task." His children's mother joins her mate's lightly chuckled amusement at the mere thought of their gingersnap Princess holding her feisty tongue for long.

Their brisk walk's time the impatient Ice King had speeded along by mentally icing the hardened ground path so the couple could now skate along with cryokinetically attached ice blades to their shoes. Giggling like teenagers again, the incognito King and Queen who always enjoyed pairs skating together, quietly ice dance into the village's stands.

"I do wonder where the girls are in that overpopulated crowd. They may be uncomfortable to be in such a questionably suitable place, Iduna." Agnarr whispers beneath his pensive moustache, snapping back from the joviality of their harmonized ice skate once the pair enter the bustling village.

His dimmed eyes attempt to warily scan the bounty of brutish looking musclemen and competitive Ice Harvesters, not to mention the questionable peddlers at every quarter of the makeshift sports arena.

"Don't be silly, Agnarr. You are the only one who could be uncomfortable in such an invigorating setting, you unsociable recluse." Iduna squeezes her husband's stiffened arm with the ribbing. "Besides, even if Kristoff is involved in the race, the girls will have Kai or Gerda or Prince Alonso to keep them company, and no doubt the spirits of Wind and Fire as well." Iduna glances down at her lightly glowing shawl's wind and fire symbols that told her keen senses some of the Enchanted Forest's elemental residents were nearby too.

"And Elsa and Anna always have one another to watch their backs. I never worry anymore for my strong-minded, brave little women." The Queen tries to appease his fatherly anxiety as they passed by some disreputable looking older men taking bets and wagers on the match, while smoking and drinking in the seamier sidelines, eyeing Iduna's petite lithe form lustily.

"Yes… There is that." Agnarr agrees as they walk closer to the audience seats.

"There's our big girl! I told you Elsa would be incognito, min älskare. And looking rather fashionable, too, sitting beside Prince Alonso and Olaf. But where is Anna?" Iduna squints her eyes to see her lovely older girl in the rear of the high stands modestly dressed as a local peasant farm girl in a cornflower blue frock with simple trimmings.

Though no amount of dowdy clothing or hairstyle could obscure her Elsa's radiant beauty.

"Good question. Perhaps fetching some last-minute provisions, if I know our fidgety, always hungry Gingersnap." Agnarr conjectures, his suspicious frown curled downward as his blurred vision had a tough time scanning the crowd for his missing younger girl who should have been present here in the spectator stands with her sibling.

"I wonder which path the boy – ahem, Kristoff –" The King hurriedly amends his demeaning address under his wife's pursed lip gaze. "– has taken? Ah, I think can see the sleigh from here now." From their shaded side view of the road from behind the audience seats, the King could just about observe that familiar sleek polished black, compact sleigh he himself had driven for lengthy amounts of time.

Agnarr always enjoyed the study of architecture and mechanics as a hobby growing up, and he appreciated how the specialized sleigh had been designed by his son-in-law for speed and agility much more than normal sturdy construction. His extremely limited gaze had been affixed in secret admiration on the swift sled of Mr. Bjorgman's fast paced drive.

But, as the sled whooshed by the fjord's edge of the westernmost left-handed path, rather than the clear-cut center route that the other contestants were headed, in the corner of his dodgy eyesight, King Agnarr thought he saw something that did not belong in the passenger seat at all.

It can't be…

Agnarr squints circumspectly at the mad dash race zooming by. Three of the four competing vehicles continue to vie at varying rates of speed for that most advantageous center lane that held the shortest track between the harbor dock and the high cliff Jötunheimr mountain range where the choice ice harvesting lake was located.

But Kristoff, though purposely not utilizing his Wind Whisperer gifts, still had the gut instinct to take the road less trodden, even if it was more steep and rocky a path incline. The Western trail's waterfall peppered, rock strewn landscape eventually converged with the treacherous 'Old King's Path' of legend that was flanked by the two sheer mountain ranges where Flåm was ideally secluded between.

The dark double horse drawn sleigh belonging to the aforementioned entrant named Kaarn Aall was hogging most of the road on the icy path. The cutthroat, dark curly haired young man had his sights on claiming one more easy victory to put under his egotistical winner's belt.

Kaarn aggressively takes full control of the road right from the start. Even so far as to violently whip his large, belligerent stallion team to cut off the sled of a young competitor who the bully boy son of the county's mayor believed was his top competitor.

With an overtly antagonistic illegal driving exercise just over the rise where the judges could no longer see, Kaarn railroads his nearest rival into a bevy of cattle grazing nearby in a farming field. He maneuvers the poor ice carriage into the soft ground until its muddy wheel spokes were so sledged down they had to come to a complete stop.

"Did you see that reprehensible display of unsportsman-like behavior, Iduna? Intimidation and unscrupulous conduct is not permitted in any sports competition in my kingdom!" The lofty King indignantly announces, his ginger ire up at the uncouth tactics of that curly headed young man and his rampaging horses bullying his opponents along the race course.

"Yes, my love. But I doubt there is an official rulebook stipulating the just premise of chivalry in this rugged terrain competition that goes back hundreds of years. Even before you were King." Probably the only woman on earth able to laugh at the Ice King's righteous indignation and survive, Iduna tries to cajole her irate husband down. She looks up from where she had been quietly paying tribute to the scores of tombstones going back hundreds of years in the Flåm church graveyard the couple was just strolling past.

"Well, there should be one. I will make an edict when we return to Arendelle. But for now, you continue down to the viewing stands there to sit with our Elsa whilst I monitor this presumptuous lad's further altercations in the sport designed to test skill, not unsavory techniques." The King speaks low and enraged under his debonair moustache.

"Now Agnarr. Stop being a King for once and just sit back and enjoy the game. This is a local tradition. You must not interfere." Iduna starts to warn, not that her headstrong lover ever listened to anyone's counsel but his own when he was in this self-righteous mode. He was obviously preparing to investigate the matter personally as kingly referee.

"Yes, yes Iduna. I already stated I wished only simply 'monitor'. I will strive to be inconspicuous as ever, but I sense there is something imperative I must look into and also to ensure this cur does not harm any of the other competitors." The King says testily as his hard face softens into a smile which plants a kiss on Iduna's cheek on his way up the hill.

"Either way, a jaunt up this pristine mountain should prove a good exercise for improving my vision. I would like to see some decent ice harvesting again. It has been a long time since I visited the mountain men and I could enjoy seeing their display of hard work efforts in action. I promise to be considerate of all, my wise little woman, and will return to you soon, after I look into this."

"All right. You go and enjoy your sporting match, min älskare. I suppose all men do it every now and then. Just be careful and as inconspicuous as possible, please." The sweet faced Queen nods with a pat to her exasperating man's cheek.

"You are a delightful creature, Iduna." Agnarr takes her warm hand and kisses each warm finger to his frosty lips ending quite amorously wet on her palm.

"You'd better believe it, Your Majesty." Iduna responds coquettishly as she watches her svelte Ice King surreptitiously hasten his step with the swift conveyance of ice beneath his feet into the deep snows.

Agnarr takes the tree sheltered path along the mountain's kettle and ridges to the extreme west of the field where no spectator would be observing, their attention more to the plateau in the mountain torrent center of the racing action.

As for Iduna, she continues to briskly trot down the snow cleared roadside walking path in the opposite direction until she reaches the temporary stands where her girls were to be eagerly watching Kristoff's race.

At least one of them was.

"Min flicka!" Stopping for breath, Iduna's soprano sings the sweet Swedish diminutive for her eldest child to hear above the roaring crowd.

But the noisy ruckus was so intense Iduna would not have been audible from below had not Bruni raised a discreet red flag in the 5th Element's view.

"Mama!" Elsa exclaims in surprise when she spins around and her true blue eyes alight upon her little mother's figure waving up from the back road view below the bleachers.

An amused Alonso stands, with arms spread clapping to give her some cover, Elsa's keen eyes make sure no one in the sports festival audience was looking as the Ice Queen easily creates a platform to rise beneath her tuckered out mother, with Gale's subtle help at the Northuldran woman's backside.

"Whoo! It's been a long time since we did this, Wind guardian!" Iduna pleasantly coos the days of her childhood flowing like the gentle breezes in her at one with nature mind.

When Queen Iduna reaches the height of their seating, the Córdoban Prince politely guides the older Queen of Arendelle to a nearby seat in front of a frozen smiling Olaf who was yet grinning broadly in a deranged kind of way.

"Why thank you, Prince Alonso. You are a gentleman." Iduna thanks the young Argentine man was one of her winning smiles.

"Yeah? That's a first." The normally self absorbed fellow had apparently learned an unconscious lesson from his experiences here in Norway that had indelibly altered even his exceptionally conceited psyche.

"Where's Anna, my dear? Gone for a snack, or better view of her racing here, no doubt? I must say you look lovely in that simple, austere frock, my beautiful girl. Reminds me of the villagers in the Forest." The Queen Mother pets Bruni's little head where he was hiding in her daughter's iced fur mantle. The Queen mother glances around the packed area where the Winter Games were being held in search of her younger child.

"Well…the tournament required a two-man team for this last contest, so Anna dressed up and went with Kristoff as his ice harvesting partner." Elsa explains to her mother in a half guilty whisper acknowledging it was not this parent whom she'd be more reticent to reveal such an unconventional thing. Iduna's eyes open wide in surprise at the startling revelation.

"Then your father is in for quite a shocker." The intelligent Queen murmurs, a bemused expression on her grinning face as she imagined her husband's reaction.

"Why? Where is Papa?" Elsa asks, biting her lower lip until it was crimson red, when she doesn't see the King. She expected her other more mercurial parent to soon be along, thinking that her Papa was just seeing to some travel accommodation, or perhaps to greet some official here who recognized him.

"Somewhere up there on his way up the mountain trails to watch the games and 'monitor' that they are being fairly played. Let's hope that he remembers the meaning of the words 'monitor' and 'fair'." Iduna's head motions up the steep majestic mountains and the quickly moving vehicles charging up the difficult paths between here and there.

As an insecure Gale's wind flutters Bruni's stop-flicker flame before their eyes, the two Queens then look to one another with shocked gazes. They grip one another's hands and uselessly scan the snowy hills for their unpredictable father and husband.

But finding some much needed levity in the situation, Elsa and Iduna see the humor in the predicament as both exotic-eyed beauties begin to titter with giggles at the whole affair, causing Gale and Bruni to smile too.

Alonso looks to the paralyzed snowman and gives a can't-stop-from-chuckling Olaf a rolled eyes shrug and a sigh at the pair of women before them.

The two queens, hugging one another were now laughing until the tears rolled down both their pretty cheeks at the ice fireworks sure to ensue at the frigid snowy peak location.


"What Do You Know about Love?" - song written by Robert and Kristen Anderson Lopez, performed by Patti Murin (Anna) and Jelani Alladin (Kristoff) from the musical FROZEN.


anti-fogmatic – term for raw rum or whiskey in 19th century slang

chica – pretty girl in Spanish

min kæreste – my darling in Danish

min flicka – my girl in Swedish


September greetings, dear friends!

Here's part one of the much awaited Ice Harvester Winter Games!

Anna certainly is making her mark in Ice Harvester history to serve as mountain man Kristoff's deputy second and first partner ice-woman in this two-man ^_^ team competition!

But with all the cheating and intimidation going on, does our Kristanna superteam have a chance at victory? We'll see who wins the Great Ice Harvester Race Kristly built Baby for, so stay tuned for the next episode!

What better way to kick off our national sports competition season than with a Frozen inspired sports tournament when no one else can play?

It's leisure time for the Arendelle royal family at last! Elsa and her Mama certainly are having a grand time laughing together as a mother and daughter should, with Gale and Bruni right with these two special Northuldran women, no more secrets, no more hiding, no more holding back the love.

God bless you and all those dear to your hearts, Frozen friends!

Love, HarukaKou

P.S. Did you spy the Kristoff and Anna duet from 'Frozen: The Musical'? The fun and games lyrics of the song symbolize the argumentative pair's relationship at the time of the early movie, and our Anna now can recall the tension-filled, combative first scene of them on their initial sleigh-ride in a more fond, music-filled way, right? :)