14: SNOW DAY
After staying up far later than was proper (laughing and talking with her new friend), Queen Elsa woke the next morning to find herself lying on the floor of her art gallery, fully-clothed in the same blue dress that she had been wearing the night before with a blanket thrown over her body and a tiny snowman nestled into the crook of her arm. Jack Frost, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Blushing with embarrassment as she pushed herself up, her back aching from another night's sleep in her corset, Elsa sat back onto her hip, looking to the little snowman on the floor beside her. As her eyes fell upon it, she realized that it wasn't a snowman, but a tiny, crystalline bear made of ice, gleaming in the early morning moonlight that was pouring in through her balcony doors.
An expression of curiosity sweeping over her face, the Snow Queen reached for the little bear to look at it closer. As she picked it up off the ground, its loosely-jointed legs swung downwards, clacking softly against each other in the silence. Lifting up one of the bear's frosty arms and looking into its face, Elsa realized what her new friend had left her holding, asleep on the floor of her art gallery.
Smiling in spite of herself, Elsa knelt down on the carpet, turning the beautiful little teddy bear over in her hands, its loose, hard legs and arms clacking against each other again as she did so. Her own ice statues had the appearance of frosted glass, and while her surface detail work was far superior, the rose and the teddy bear were stunningly clear, with nothing more than a faint blue tint inside what was otherwise flawless and structurally perfect ice.
Oh, my.
The Spirit of Winter was good with ice.
Feeling herself blushing again, Elsa smiled, her heart skipping a beat. As she got up, the Snow Queen gently brushed her hand over the crystalline teddy bear, watching as the sparkling shimmer only she knew to be magic settled over its surface. It wouldn't melt, now.
Much better.
Walking into her bedroom and drawing herself up in an attempt to stretch out her back muscles, Elsa paced over to one of the decorative chairs in the corner nearest her dresser, lovingly setting the icy teddy bear onto the cushion. Was everything he made this beautiful?
As she turned around to look across the room to the rose, Elsa jolted.
She ran forward to the dresser. Yes—elegantly flowered across the large mirror, a fine dusting of twisting, spiraling frost was glistening softly in the fading moonlight. But there was something—drawn in it?
Elsa reached across the surface of the dresser for her lamp. Twisting its key, the flame burst up into the glass tubing, and the young queen pulled it back across the wood, eying the enormous mirror again. The room suddenly flooded with light, and it was then that she realized the drawing in the frost wasn't a drawing at all.
It was writing.
'Morning, Snowflake!
Had to go do some stuff. Hope you slept well.
-J
P.S. Sorry for leaving you on the floor
.
Feeling heat rushing to her cheeks again, Elsa pushed back the lamp. Her heart skipping another beat as she considered the note, the Fifth Spirit stepped away from her dresser, reaching down to her current dress to disintegrate it.
A few minutes later, wearing a fresh, romantically-pink gown of ice and finishing the last touches on her eyeshadow, Elsa heard a knock.
"THE MORNING POST, YOUR WONDERFULNESS!" shrieked a voice through the wood. "MAY I ENTER YOUR ROOM?"
Placing the eyeshadow on her dresser and spinning around to the door, Elsa laughed softly under her breath, shaking her head as she walked across the room. "Coming!"
KnockKnockKnockKnockKnock!
"MAY I ENTER YOUR ROOM?"
"I'm coming, Olaf!"
Throwing back the bolt and grasping the handle, Elsa pulled the door open just in time for a short, giggling mound of snow to come lurching through.
"The MORRRRRning mail and newspaper, Your Gloriousness!" Olaf sang, whirling around to face her and holding the tray up as far as he could. "Good morning, Elsa!"
"Good morning, Olaf," Elsa laughed, taking the tray and starting to walk back to the dresser. "Any news from the kingdom?"
"It's a SNOW DAY!"
Elsa froze.
After a few moments, gripping the little tray, she slowly turned around to face the snowman.
"A—a snow day?" she breathed.
"Oh, yes! YesYesYesYES, and I heard it from the kids themseeeeeeeelves!" Olaf squealed excitedly, "During the night, we got nearly four feet of it! All of the schools and shops are closed. And everything is covered with SNOW!"
Snow.
Turning and looking back to the writing on the mirror, Elsa's heart leapt.
Of course he did.
She smiled dreamily, feeling herself blushing again as she resumed walking, placing the tray of letters and newsprint on the edge of the dresser. Of course, the royal mail would be going to Queen Anna after Elsa got through with it, but Elsa wanted her sister to be taking it as easy as possible. Mail, even though important, could be nothing if not an exhausting extra little royal chore.
Pulling her hair into three sections and beginning to twist it into the "Acting Queen" Arendellian braid that she sported while back in the castle, Elsa turned around, leaning back against the dresser and gazing up at the mural of ice flowers sprawled across the opposite corner of the room.
"It's really a Snow Day?" she asked wistfully. "It would have—it would have had to fall very early, this morning, if it were."
Olaf nodded. "Four. FEET. Of it," he repeated, " Snow, snow; sparkly, fluffy, beautiful, WONDERFUL snooOOOoow! Did you know that igloos can be up to 100 degrees warmer on the inside than the outside?"
"I did not."
"Well, now you do. I read that. And the Hill is full to BURSTING!"
"My goodness!" Elsa exclaimed, "Already? But the sun's not even up yet!"
The snowman scoffed, putting his stick hands on his hips. "It's. The Hill," he giggled. "Do you think the kids are going to wait?"
She rolled her eyes, laughing again as she turned back to the mirror. "Good point, Olaf. I guess not."
The Children's Hill—or, The Hill, as most everyone called it—was a designated play area behind the castle that had been established and was maintained specifically by the Snow Queen for all the local children of the kingdom. There were a few playsets of various sorts towards the bottom, but its main draw for most of the year was that Elsa made sure (while she was back for her usual weekly visits to Anna, of course) that the hill itself was covered with a thick, soft layer of snow, making it an absolutely perfect spot for year-round snowmen, snowball fights, snow forts, and sledding. The children adored her for it, and—to make sure that no one got hurt—there was no sweeter, kinder, or friendlier overseer to be found than Olaf the snowman. And it was an excellent place for him to be, of course, because his personal flurry couldn't be expected to do all of the work, but even on a place like The Hill, a Snow Day was an unusual and cherished occurrence. Without question, The Hill would be crowded today.
"I just can't believe you kept it a secret!" Olaf bubbled happily, "Why didn't you tell us? I wish you'd told me. It's so fun, and I—um—"
Elsa was dreamily gazing off into space again, flicking her fingers over her braid and sending a sparkle of snowflakes falling across the golden-white strands.
"Wait," Olaf tried again, shuffling up to her on his rounded feet, "You—you did make it a Snow Day—didn't you?"
"Oh! I—um," Elsa stammered, snapping back into focus, "No! I mean—no. I'm not responsible for this one."
"Huh," Olaf realized, his snowy eyebrows lifting in surprise. "It must have happened naturally, then. Or something."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Or… or something…"
Her voice trailed off. Turning around and leaning back against the dresser, Elsa looked across the room again, her gaze falling onto the elegant, gleaming ice rose resting on her nightstand.
Oh, wow…
An expression of concern swept over Olaf's face. Turning away from Elsa, he then reached forward, pulling out the dresser drawers and beginning to pull himself up.
Stroking her braid thoughtfully, the Fifth Spirit sighed again, smiling dumbly as she began to look to the side, and—
"GAUGH!"
"Elsaaaaaa?" Olaf pressed, looking at her suspiciously and she clapped her hand over her heart, suddenly two inches from his enormous eyes, "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Her heart pounding, Elsa leaned back from him, her mouth hanging open with shock. Struggling to find words, she swallowed hard, glancing to the mirror that was now mere inches from Olaf's snowy feet.
Seeing where she was looking, Olaf glanced to the side, suddenly straightening up as he saw the note. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "What's this?"
Her heart jumped into her throat. "It's nothing, Olaf," she lied, forcing a smile. "Everything is perfectly normal. I'm not hiding anything."
She drew herself up, giving a quick shrug and nodding. The snowman stared at her for a long moment, studying her face.
"Interesting," he muttered thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Very… interesting…"
Elsa bit her lip as the snowman took a step back, chortling good-naturedly.
"You seem to have forgotten that I can read," Olaf said.
Right.
Blood rushing to her face, Elsa shakily gripped the edge of the dresser as Olaf trundled over to the center of its surface, staring intently at the frosty message in her mirror. After a beat, his frosty eyebrows lifted.
"Soooooo," he giggled, "Who is J?"
"No one. I mean, no one to worry about," Elsa squeaked, "Just—just a friend of mine."
Olaf considered this for a long, silent moment.
With a sudden gasp, the snowman leapt into the air, his middle section twirling independently from his bottom.
"Is it a BOOOOOY?!"
"OLAF!" Elsa jolted.
"But we need to find your True Love!" Olaf protested as she crossed her arms over her chest and threateningly raising her eyebrows.
"Olaf," she groaned, glaring at him in motherly annoyance, "We've talked about this."
"But I want you to be happy!"
"I am happy."
"You need love."
"I have love. Plenty of it." Elsa stepped forward, gently picking him up from under his arms and lifting him off the dresser. "I love you, and Anna, and Kristoff, and Sven, and all the people of Arendelle, in addition to Honeymaren, and Ryder, and the Northuldra, and Bruni, and Gale—for a start! Don't you think that's enough?"
"But you don't have your True Love," Olaf insisted as she set him on the floor.
"I don't need a True Love, Olaf."
The little snowman raised his eyebrows, placing his stick hands onto his snowy hips. "They've done a lot of studies about love," he offered. "Did you know that, for neurotic partners, being in a relationship has been found to have an indirect correlation to becoming more optimistic and confident?"
Elsa froze.
"What?" she choked.
"Ooooooh, nothing!" Olaf bubbled, beaming and beginning to trundle back into the center of the room, "We just need to find you a nice, compatible Winter Spirit with brains, and a working nose, and strong teeth, and a high tolerance for being put in mortal danger all the time!"
He snort-giggled, and then paused, turning back to face her as Elsa's mouth fell open.
"Seen any?" he asked.
She jumped, snapping back into focus. "What?"
"Have you seen any?" the snowman repeated, "I was just thinking—if we're going to find you a True Love, we'd need to make sure that—"
"—So, how's the naming going?" Elsa asked suddenly.
"What naming?"
"The Snogies?" she prompted, desperate to change the subject, "From every time I've sneezed, between Anna's nineteenth birthday and now? You still have a few dozen nameless siblings left, don't you?"
"Oh! Oh, yes! The naming is going great!" Olaf exclaimed, tottering over to the chair where Elsa had sat down the papers and pulling out a piece of parchment. Beaming, he bounded back over to her by the dresser, holding it out.
"I made a list to show you," he bubbled, "In cursive! Which, by the way, evolved from the Italian calligraphy hand. I read that somewhere."
"In cursive?" Elsa asked in confusion, taking it, "But I thought that you were still working on your letters with Anna and Kristoff in the…"
Her voice trailed off as she looked down, her eyes falling onto the paper in her hand. The piece of parchment was a completely unreadable mess of ink scribbles, accompanied by two smudges and a smiley face.
Oh, Olaf.
"I'm practicing my script," the snowman said proudly. "Anna told me that I've improved a LOT, holding a quill with my stick hand, but Kristoff says it's still unreadable. I can read it just fine. Do we need to reteach Kristoff how to read? I think that maybe he forgot."
"It's—um—it's beautiful, Olaf," Elsa stammered, restraining from a laugh as she handed him back the list. "But would you mind reading it to me?"
"I know it by heart."
"Perhaps you could recite it, then?"
"Of course."
Olaf cleared his throat, holding up the list. Then, putting it back down, he stood up as tall as he could, beginning to walk back a forth across the room as Elsa turned back to the mirror, materializing more snowflakes into her hair.
"The continued list of names for my Snowgie Brethren and Sisteren goes as follooooows," he warbled, "Ahem… Sparkle, Stormy, Beans, Hammie, Gordy, Bon-Bon, Chub, Penguin, Coconut, Leonardo Lewis Linus the Third, Ned, and oh, I like this!"
Elsa raised her eyebrows in interest, turning around and looking back down to the little snowman. Standing by the decorative chair in the corner, Olaf let out a bubbly giggle of a laugh, rolling forward on his rounded feet and hugging the icy teddy bear to his chest.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Olaf," she choked, "I—I can explain—"
"—I've never seen you make anything like this!" Olaf gasped, pausing and holding out the teddy bear again, "Why haven't you? You really should make more."
"I—"
"He's soooOOOOoooo CUTE!" the snowman squealed in delight, cuddling the teddy bear with joy, "He's like—he's like a little baby BUNDLE of icy snowy frosty beeeeeeear cub—!"
He lovingly embraced it again, his voice trailing off into a fit of exuberant giggling.
Elsa stared at him in shock. She'd made Olaf ice statues before—lots of them. And toys, as well, of various kinds, as he seemed to enjoy them so much. For as far as she had been able to see, Olaf adored pretty much anything that anyone gave him, including the gifts from the children who lived in the villages surrounding the castle.
It was almost as if Jack Frost had some sort of destined connection to Olaf that she wasn't yet aware of.
"Does he have a name yet?" Olaf blurted suddenly.
Elsa jolted back into focus. "Um… what?"
"A name," Olaf repeated, clutching the teddy bear in his stick arms and shuffling over to her. "Does he have a name?"
"I—uh," she admitted, "I suppose not."
"WELL. I will name him, then," the snowman declared, "He's too cute to not have a name. And, everyone deserves a name. I'll name him—uh—"
His voice trailed off as he held out the icy teddy bear, looking into its face with concern. After a few moments, seeing his expression, Elsa walked over to him, a good-natured smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.
"Tell you what," she whispered, bending down to look into Olaf's eyes, "If you promise to take really, really good care of him—"
Olaf gasped, his mouth falling open in delight.
"—Why don't you—um," Elsa finished, restraining from a laugh as the snowman began to tremble in anticipation, "Why don't you hold onto him, for me?"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOH!" Olaf squealed, spinning around and leaping into the air with joy, "THANK yoooou! ThankYouThankYouThankYouYesYesYesYESSSSSSSSS, I PROMISE! I promise," he added solemnly, whirling back around to face her and gazing at her with the utmost sincerity. "I will take very good care of him."
"Of course," she said kindly. "I'm sure you will, Olaf."
"Although…"
Still holding the teddy bear in his arms, the snowman's smile vanished. Staring dramatically into the middle distance, Olaf drew in his breath.
"Though maturity somewhat dulls the allure of material things," he breathed.
Elsa looked back to him. "What was that?"
"Tell me," Olaf said, his eyes wide and innocent as he toddled up to her, still clutching the teddy bear, "Do you think that my propensity for worldly objects should go away with time, or is it an unchanging flaw in my personality?"
The Fifth Spirit's eyes widened.
"Um…" she breathed. "I think you're fine."
"OH, good!"
Olaf burst out giggling again, squeezing the teddy bear to his chest and spinning around. Elsa straightened up, letting out her breath in relief.
"I'll think of a name," he promised, beginning to shuffle forward on his rounded feet towards the door as the bear's legs squeaked softly against the snow of his belly, "And I'll ask all the kids, too. At The Hill."
"Oh—that's right," Elsa remembered, following him across the room and reaching for the handle, "You do need to get back to The Hill, don't you?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "It's going to be SO much fun!" Olaf giggled, walking out into the hall as Elsa held the door for him. "Snow day, snow day, SNOW DAY—"
"—It sounds wonderful, Olaf," Elsa laughed. "Good luck. I love y—"
But the snowman had already gone bouncing down the hall, running to the nearest maid at the end and showing her his new, icy companion. Elsa smiled, shaking her head and quietly shutting the door.
Turning around and walking over to the dresser, her capelet billowing behind her across the carpet, Elsa came to a stop in front of the tray of letters and picked up the newspaper. Absent-mindedly flipping it open, her eyes fell onto the headline of the first article.
SNOW QUEEN'S FIRST SUITOR ARRIVES IN ARENDELLE
With appropriate fanfare, King Edvin of Hordalunde by ship last evening, accompanied by multiple nobles and attendants. In a shocking turn of events, the Royal Spokesmen of the Kingdom announced just hours earlier that the reinstated Snow Queen of Arendelle has agreed to—
Elsa jolted.
Blushing furiously, she slammed the paper down onto her dresser, turning back to the silver tray. Of course they had already announced it to the press. They probably had prepared the statement before The Council even took place. It wasn't a surprise—well, it shouldn't have surprised her, that they'd pull something like that, but this—but it just was—really!?
She shook her head vigorously, trying to focus on the rest of the mail, flipping quickly through the letters. Unlike the newspaper article, everything else seemed to be pleasantly normal. Requests from various nobles, a thank you note, an invitation, another thank you note, political something, political something, political something, and what on earth…?
At the very bottom of the pile, a tiny, blank envelope was left sitting alone on the silver tray. Setting down the rest of the mail, Elsa reached for it, picking up the little package and studying it in confusion. After a few moments, turning it over in curiosity, she realized that there was a small object sitting inside the envelope's bottom corner.
And it was—cold.
Her breath catching, Elsa leapt back with the envelope, turning and running for her art gallery. Rounding the corner for the desk, she threw the envelope to the side, yanking open the drawer and frantically digging through the pens and papers inside. Finally, pulling out a long, silver letter-opener, she stuck it into the sealed edge of the envelope, ripping it open. Realizing that there was a small piece of parchment inside, she took it out, her eyes skimming over the messy scrawl.
You're going to be FINE.
-J
P.S. Also, I ran into Anna. She invited me to breakfast with you.
P.S.S. Actually, she invited me to marry you. Breakfast was my suggestion.
See you in a few.
Feeling a little heat rushing to her cheeks again, Elsa turned over the envelope, watching as a small, delicate something fell into her opposite palm. Looking at it closer, her breath caught.
Glinting in the early morning moonlight, the Fifth Spirit picked up the end of the clear, crystalline chain, pulling it out of her hand and lifting a tiny, intricate pendant of a snowflake. The pendant, not surprisingly, was made of ice, sparkling and glowing against the relative darkness of the art gallery.
It was beautiful.
Forgetting the humiliation of the newspaper article as she turned the little pendant over in her hands, feeling its smooth surface, Elsa's heart leapt. Reaching under her braid, she felt for the end of the chain as she strung it around her neck, fusing it together with a flick of her fingers. Letting it go, the pendant fell onto her dress, the necklace hitting exactly the wrong spot.
Looking down, Elsa bit the edge of her lip. It was a tiny bit longer than expected. Normally, she would have just shortened the chain, but this was—well, it was a gift. And it was usually seen as fairly rude to alter a gift. If only there was a way to—
A mischievous smile twitched out of the side of Elsa's mouth, and she reached for her neckline, gently touching the center of the bodice's top. She closed her eyes.
Whoosh.
The top inch-and-a-half of the icy bodice rushed away into the air as Elsa flicked her fingers off, disintegrating it into a shimmering mist of frost as she reconfigured the dress's neckline into a deep sweetheart cut. Now free of the excess ice fabric, the necklace fell back perfectly, another inexplicable rush of joy shooting through her as the gleaming pendant touched her skin once again.
Restraining from a tiny giggle, the Fifth Spirit looked down, admiring the snowflake hanging over what was now a daring single inch of cleavage. The pendant glimmered in the faint light, the perfect little piece of ice perfectly aligned with the bodice's neckline.
Elsa spun around, practically running back into her room for the door.