Chapter 23

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With each step the snow swirled in small, mist-like formations, carried away by the wind and leaving behind a shallow footprint. The snow wasn't nearly as deep as it'd been in Arendelle, still, Elsa glided across the top of it as if it were a beach of sand instead of a mountain of snow. Despite the lightness of her foot she felt heavy, and with every step it seemed she grew heavier. She was tired, injured, and ready to give up. She felt like a watch which somebody forgot to wind, and the gears that turned inside her were slowing, the tick, tick, tick of their inner workings growing further apart. But she drove herself onward, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, not dwelling on how far she'd come or how far she had left to go, concentrating on one step at a time.

She was leaving behind a lifetime of pain, suffering and misery. Sometimes it was her own, often it was others; either way she was leaving it behind like footprints in the snow. There was no fear of her journey or dread at what awaited at the top of the mountain. She knew there was nothing to protect her from the wrath of the frost troll king; even so, there was no fear, not yet. That would come later. At the moment there was only relief. Relief that soon this would all be over. The drought. The snowstorm. The outbursts of magic. When she was finished, when she'd done what she came here to do, it would all be over, and that was enough to allay her fears.

Of course, there was poor little Olaf, the snowman whose heart was too big for his body. She'd given him life, and in turn he'd given her his unconditional love. He deserved the most wonderful life anyone could hope to enjoy. She didn't know what would happen to Olaf when her magic was taken away, but it hurt too much to think about, so she stuffed it way down inside, into the darkest recesses of her heart where she hid all the pain and suffering from her past.

Her mind drifted to John, the man who'd deceived her and betrayed her. She only had herself to blame for his betrayal. She was such a fool. She believed he'd truly cared about her, but his affection was no more than a clever deception. She'd known this all along, somewhere deep inside she'd known. After all, who could ever truly love a monster like her?

The wind made a strange howling sound and she lifted her head to see she'd arrived at the mouth of the chasm. The white ice of the bridge she'd created glistened in the moonlight. She'd almost died here. Perhaps it would've been better if she had, she thought.

She made her way across without incident, and found the snow to be noticeably absent on the other side. A smattering of flakes shifted to and fro across the ground, blown by the wind's unceasing exhalation, but otherwise the snow had all but disappeared. She veered away from the main trail, following an old, overgrown path which wound up the side of the mountain. Traces of a faded minecart rail line lay in the dirt, the remaining wood of the tracks rotting away like bones on an ancient battleground. She followed these when she could find them, searching for other signs when she couldn't. Eventually, she found herself standing before a large, black cave, it's open maw gaping at her like the jaws of some toothless beast. She hesitated, fighting a bout of sickening dread. She should be relieved to arrive at her destination, to have reached the place where the story of her magic would finally end. This is what she'd come here to do. This is where she'd save Arendelle, regardless of what happened to her.

She stepped into the darkness of the cave, the howl of the wind left behind as she chose her steps slowly, carefully, avoiding the dangers along the rock strewn floor. A faint glow from somewhere deep in the mine radiated enough light to allow her to see the dim outline of the walls, but the black of the night concealed everything else. She trailed a hand along the side of the cave, her fingers scraping over jagged rocks punctuated by moist patches of smooth stone. She thought she heard voices in the distance, the dull whisper of a conversation fading to an incoherent hum as it bounced through the cavern.

She tripped over an unseen rock and fell to her knees, her arms reaching out to catch her. She rested on her hands for a time, hanging her head and listening to the sound of her shallow breath. It was rapid, almost melodious, reminding her of the tick of a grandfather clock, and listening to it made her want to lay down. She was so tired, every muscle in her body rebelling against her efforts to continue, telling her to stop, to give up, to not go on. But she ignored it, pushing herself back to her feet and venturing further down the throat of the mountain.

As the light grew brighter she realized it was the glow of torches. She smelled their smoky essence mixed with the stale, dusty air. The conversation had stopped, silenced all at once and leaving her to wonder if they were voices at all or the quiet hum of some strange machine. The tunnel narrowed and she supported herself with a hand on each wall, her feet feeling like heavy blocks with each step. A little ways ahead, the passage turned to the right, and this is where she'd find the source of the torchlight and the home of the frost trolls. Her heart beat in her ears and her breathing grew heavy, like bellows stoking a fire. She tried to stop it, holding her breath for as long as she could then forcing it out in a long, protracted sigh. She closed her eyes, repeating this several times, her anxiety blunting with each new breath. When she worked up the courage, she opened her eyes and walked around the corner.

The tunnel opened into a large domed room, as big as the dining hall of her castle, furnished with a table, couches and other furniture that seemed out of place in their cavernous surroundings. Torches burned in their sconces, wisps of smoke ascending like spirits from the tongue of their flames, slithering up the walls and gathering at the peak of the dome where they coalesced into a churning black mass before escaping through a hole. Two other cave-like openings branched off from the room, leading to other tunnels. She strained to see what lay inside them but her vision was defeated by their blackness.

She was about to step into the room when a figure emerged from a tunnel across from her. It was a frost troll, a very old one, blue and barely waist high; bent with age it used a crooked stick to support itself as it walked. A mane of silver-white hair flowed down from the top of its head, its fingers tipped with yellowing claws. Elsa was hidden in the shadows but it smiled in her direction, revealing a row of sharp, yellow teeth.

"I've been expecting you, child."

The troll made a croaking sound when it spoke, a low pitched rumble with a hint of rasp. It was the sound of evil, the sound of death. She shouldn't be here, she needed to leave.

But she didn't. She knew if she left now her people would be doomed to a slow and miserable death. No matter what happened, she had to stay.

"Come forward," he said, beckoning her out of the darkness. "You have nothing to fear. I know why you've come."

Elsa hesitated, afraid to let go of the wall, afraid to approach the thing that spoke to her. It took everything she had to defy her instincts and step into the light. The frost troll studied her before speaking again, a strange expression on his face.

"So you are the daughter of Arendelle, the one who has caused me so much pain."

Elsa said nothing, was too terrified and exhausted to say anything, standing in silence, listening to the sound of her breath and the frantic beat of her heart.

"Your family has a history of causing me pain," he said, as he shuffled toward the table in the center of the room, climbing up onto the chair which was bigger than he was. "So much pain."

He set the cane in his lap and motioned to the chair opposite him.

"Come now, have a seat. We must negotiate the release of your guards. That is why you have come, is it not?"

Elsa was caught in the grip of a mild confusion as she fought against every fiber of her being which told her to run. But the news her guards were alive motivated her. She crept across the room, searching her surroundings, the tunnel entrances, and the shadows for any sign of danger. She was trapped in his domain, she knew this, caught like a fly in a spider's web, and she feared what venom he may unleash upon her. Despite this, she sat down as instructed.

"It is unfortunate we must meet here like this," the old troll said. "All I have ever wanted is peace, to be left alone. But it would seem the lives of the royal line of Arendelle and the frost trolls are inextricably intertwined. One of us is destined to destroy the other."

"Have you harmed my guards?" She met the frost troll's eyes, a fire kindling in her own.

"No, they are unharmed."

"I want to see them."

The frost troll smiled.

"I was beginning to doubt you would come at all. I feared what I might have to do with them. But that is over now. I am willing to release them, ready to be rid of them in fact. I have no desire to continue providing for them when this drought devours so many of my supplies."

"I want to see them."

"I will show them to you, but I am not prepared to give away something for nothing. What are you willing to give up in their stead?"

Elsa looked down at her hands. They trembled so she clasped them together to steady them. She thought of Olaf and Marshmallow and Pumpkin, her beautiful creations who were so loyal to her. She thought of ice skating in the courtyard on a warm summer day and the smiles on her people's faces as they glided around the fountains, twirling and spinning with delight. Then she thought about the drought, the eternal winter, and her sister's lifeless body laying on the cracked stones of the courtyard floor.

"My magic, I'm willing to give up my magic."

The troll's eyes grew wide with interest.

"Your magic? And how do you intend to give that to me?"

"I've heard you can remove my powers," she said, her head snapping up. "Is that not so?"

The frost troll rose, a smirk creeping across his lips. He shuffled around the table, dragging the tip of his stick over the smooth floor.

"What you have heard is true."

As he drew close she smelled the pungent aroma of his flesh, a hint of sulfur mixed with sweat, and she held her breath as he passed behind the chair. He drew up alongside her and she tried not to recoil when he touched her arm. His fingers were as crooked as his stick and he had an icy cold touch, like the hand of something dead.

"Indeed, I did curse your family. To protect mine. But now it would seem removing your curse is the only thing that will save us all. But are you prepared to do what must be done to remove it, to subject yourself to my power?"

Elsa nodded. "I am."

He studied her, as if he didn't believe her. She grew uncomfortable at the unwelcome scrutiny and looked away.

"Very well. Come with me."

He motioned for her to follow and they left through the tunnel he'd entered from. He walked slowly, which Elsa was thankful for. The darkness of the caves consumed everything except the faintest outline of the hunched form before her, and she found herself relying on the sound of his shuffling steps to follow. They navigated the passage as it twisted and turned, sloped and climbed, passing several tunnels which branched in different directions as they went. From some of these came distant torchlight, awful stenches, and a smoky mist which hung unmoving in the air. They passed all of these, arriving before a large, wooden door that was almost too large for the small creature to operate. He produced a key which he used to unlock it, then pushed it open.

Light flooded into the tunnel, causing Elsa to blink against the brightness of it. She saw no torches and couldn't discern the source of the light, but it took some time for her eyes to adjust to its piercing glare. She followed the troll into what appeared to be a dungeon, with uneven cells cut into the surface of the walls, each enclosed by iron bars. Three of her guards were there, divided one to a cell, and they sat on the floor staring out from behind their bars. They neither stirred nor made a sound as she entered, unable or unwilling to acknowledge that someone had arrived. It was as if they were in a trance, transfixed on something in the center of the room no one else could see.

Elsa rushed to the closest cell, crouching down and calling out to her guard.

"Peder!"

He didn't flinch or respond.

"Peder, are you alright?"

She ran to the next cell, and the next. All of her guards were under the same spell, the rise and fall of their chest the only indication they were still alive.

"What have you done to them?"

"I assure you, they are unharmed," he said, tapping the bars of the nearest cell with his stick. "They were most uncooperative when they arrived, so I had to...what shall we say? Ease their minds."

"Release them!"

"All in good time, my dear," he said, heading to the center of the room. "All in good time."

He stopped, turned to face her and pointed at the ground before him.

"Come, kneel before me."

"Release them first!"

The old troll smiled a toothy grin that revealed his pointed, yellow teeth. Then his expression grew stern, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you take me for a fool, daughter of Arendelle? I know the power you possess. Until it is removed I shall do no such thing."

Her guards didn't appear to be in pain or at peace, their faces expressionless and their eyes unseeing. She turned her attention back to the troll who stood waiting and watching. Taking a hesitant step forward she looked down at her hands. They were trembling again. She didn't know why, she should be happy. Happy to be rid of her magic. Happy to escape the curse which infected her family. Happy to be able to face her sister and her people without shame or fear.

But she didn't feel happy. She felt tired, scared, and alone.

She got down on her knees, sitting on her heels and lowering her head until her chin rested on her chest.

"What's your name?" she asked, without looking up.

He placed his open palms upon her temples, holding her face between his hands. She flinched at his touch, the stink of his flesh filling her nostrils and causing her to hold her breath, trying not to inhale. A bluish-green glow enveloped her head and blurred her vision, giving her the impression she was watching the world through a milky window made of green shooting stars.

"I am known as Frost Father to some," he said, digging his claws into her head. Elsa gasped and every muscle in her body screamed out, but she didn't resist. "Others know me as Ice Heart."

His voice became wavy and distant, and so did everything else around her. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the greenish glow, but it swirled on the backs of her eyelids and made her dizzy.

What felt like needles of ice bombarded Elsa's scalp, injecting themselves into her mind, scrambling her thoughts until her consciousness scattered like snowflakes in a blizzard. She cried out in pain and doubled over, supporting herself on her hands. A powerful force penetrated her head, probing like a hand and clawing at her mind. It dug into the deepest recesses of her thoughts, tearing at something that didn't want to be removed. She couldn't help but resist, fight back, try to expel it, but the force was too strong and she cried out again, her arms wavering beneath her. The green haze inside her eyes flared to a brilliant white and her cry turned into a shriek of pain and terror. Then she collapsed and everything went black.

******

Kristoff let the reigns drop to the floor of the sleigh and took Anna in both arms, one hand wrapped around her back and the other cupping her head. Her entire body heaved and shook with the force of her weeping, her face buried in his shoulder, her long, protracted sobs punctuated by muffled cries of despair that pierced the night air. There were moments of silence following especially powerful sobs when he feared she'd stopped breathing, that she couldn't draw in another breath; then she'd choke the air back into her lungs before letting out another cry.

He'd never witnessed such raw emotion, never heard agony, anguish or sorrow pour out of someone with so much intensity; and the sight of Anna's suffering tore a hole in his heart. He choked back his own tears. He had to be strong for Anna, she needed him to be strong for both of them. He buried his cheek in her hair, wiping a tear away.

"She's dead! He killed her Kristoff! She's dead!"

She tried to say something more but a fit of sobs cut her off. Kristoff wiped his arm across his eyes and held her close. Sven looked back, whimpering and snorting, the crisp mountain air rushing around them as he trotted up the trail. The trees rolled by, dark and looming, grotesque imitations of their former selves. The first light of dawn cracked the surface of the night sky, sending a sliver of light creeping across the jagged horizon. Anna's cries grew softer, her body growing still as she emptied herself of all her grief until she had no more to give, or lacked the energy to give it. She sat up, wiping at her eyes, the silence broken only by Sven's hoof-beats and the spray of snow beneath the sled. When she did speak, her voice was tinged with the rawness of a fresh wound, the words bubbling through a throat-full of despair.

"Do you know what the last thing I said to her was?"

She was on the verge of tears again. Kristoff didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to say.

"I said I didn't want to be with her—"

She almost didn't make it through the sentence, plunging into another fit of sobs as she fell back into his arms, convulsing under the power of her grief, shaking and crying until there was no breath left in her.

"We're too late," she said.

Kristoff placed his hands on the sides of her head, prying her face from his shoulder. Her cheeks were soaked with tears and he wiped at them with his gloved thumbs.

"We don't know that."

Anna glanced back at the empty shell of Olaf, sniffing back fresh tears.

"Yes we do. She's gone, Kristoff. She's gone."

She collapsed into his arms again, crying. Kristoff kissed the top of her head then put his cheek upon hers, feeling the warm wetness of her sorrow trickling down her face as she cried.

"No, we don't know that." He sniffed and rubbed at his nose with his glove. "She went to have her powers removed, that's all we know. We have to believe she's still alive. We're going to find her, don't give up on your sister now, not when she needs you most."

Anna lifted her head and wiped at her eyes, searching Kristoff's expression, as if looking for a sign he didn't believe his own words. She swallowed, stifled a sob, then swallowed again, all the while blinking back tears.

"You really think she's still alive?"

"I do, and I'll stop at nothing to make sure she stays that way. In the meantime, we need to stay alert and keep our wits about us. We need to be strong, for Elsa."

Anna nodded, throwing her arms around his neck, and he held her for a long time as she cried into his shoulder. He said nothing, just holding her and letting her cry, then he took her

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