Elsa looked out from the balcony window of her frozen palace. Bears were attacking something, which meant that it was a known something and probably something she had faced a dozen times in a dozen scenarios under her father’s training.
But it could also be a something she hadn’t faced. An anything from the last portion of the book.
Elsa grit her teeth. Even it was an unknown, it had to be something she could handle. Platoons of soldiers and been frost-bitten, ninjas had been entombed in ice, and vikings had been beaten down, so whatever this was…
it had to be a known.
Ice pulsed from the bottoms of her feet and behind her. The shapes and cludged cubes of ice formed a snowman-like shape, but only for a moment. Ice kept building around them, pushing them up, stretching and warping the ice until they formed something big.
“I understand.” The something big announced.
Elsa turned to see the nine foot tall figure kneel. Long dreads of a pale blue draped over his face. “Who…?” She almost asked out loud.
“My name’s Olaf.” The snow creature responded to the unasked question. “I understand and will respond.” Without another word, he stood to his full height, and sprinted past her, hurdled over the balcony, and hit the snow with a crash and a plume of snow.
A fearful smile played across Elsa’s lips. An unknown could stay an unknown and still be defeated if it was by someone else.
Above her, she watched a shooting star streak across the sky. For some reason, it confirmed her choice and the existence of that wild, blue man who just dove off the balcony.
Well, until that shooting star started getting larger.
And changing course.
Coming right towards her.
Elsa stomped her foot behind her, pushing ice up and around her in a thick shield. It shattered around her and time slowed to show her the gray-eyed boy who had broken through. His feet slammed into the ground, cracking the floor in a six-pointed shape.
Immediately, both began firing ice and snow at the other. Shards of ice shot from the ground and dropped from the ceiling. Drifts of snow pushed and pulled the combatants through the room and down a grand staircase. Every shot met with a counter, and a deflection struck every attack.
Then the boy paused. “Wait, you’re a gi-” A battering ram of ice collided with his stomach, sending him against the wall with a thud. Crystals formed like cuffs against the wrists and ankles of the boy.
Elsa appeared with a knife of ice at his throat before he could blink. “What are you doing here?” She hissed.
“Checking you out.” The boy’s expression dropped. “But, not like that. That is, not to say that you aren’t unattractive, because you are, believe me. Never seen a girl pull of a mohawk as well as you do. But this more in the research department.”
Elsa’s eyebrows shifted from anger to confusion. “Who are you?”
“Jack.” He offered what he hoped was a sincere smile. It’s hard to be sincere when attached to a wall by ice. “Jack Frost?”
“Never heard of you.” Elsa stood straight.
“Really? Because that doesn’t surprise me. I control winter itself, and suddenly I see blizzards springing up that I didn’t cause. You gotta negotiate this stuff with the guardians more often.” Jack waved a hand. “You seriously had Santa thinking his calendars were off.”
“Santa’s real?” Elsa leaned away from the boy. None of this could have been in father’s book.
“Yeah, he is. Listen, I would love to sit and discuss this all with you, if you wouldn’t mind letting me sit.”
Elsa studied Jack, but complied. With a snap of her fingers, the ice shattered and Jack’s feet hit the ground. “Sit.” She pointed to ice that was forming a table and chairs.
(Yes, I went there. Sue me)
Meanwhile, Anya and Kristoff opened their eyes to see the splintered remains of the sled wrapped around a tree.
“I just paid it off.” Kristoff moaned to the heavens. He snapped to attention. “Sven?”
“No, no, I’ve been awake for hours.” Anya moaned without moving. She curled into Kristoff as if the two were in bed and not in a frozen wasteland.
Kristoff pushed her out of his arms and stood up. “Sven!”
“Who’s Sven? Is he coming with breakfast?” Anya sat up. As her hand sunk into the snow, she gasped. “What is going on? Did Sven do this?”
Kristoff’s shoulders fell. “No. Sven did not do this. Sven!” He took off in a run towards a reindeer, who had gotten its reins tangled in the branches of a tree. A knife came out from under his jacket and the reindeer was quickly freed.
“Kristoff, I don’t think this is helping people. Or us.” Kristoff said in a deeper, lowing voice.
“I know, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of this.”
“Did you just talk to that deer?” Anya was now on her feet and coming towards them.
“No, Sven was talking to me.” Kristoff said without looking behind him at the princess. “Now, come on. I’m taking you back to Arrendale.”
“Yes, you can. Sven said you can ride on his back.”
The reindeer turned on Kristoff with a glare, but said nothing.
“No, I’m not going back. Not without my sister.” Anya crossed her arms over her chest.
“Okay, feel free to take the sled.” Kristoff pointed over her shoulder at the remains of the sled, where a lantern slid off a fastening and crashed in the seat, setting the whole thing on fire.
“But, I need you to come with me.” Anya protested, grabbing his arm.
“No, you really don’t. The last thing I need is to have my frozen remains found next to yours.” Kristoff and Sven turned back towards Arrendale.
“Uh, yeah. If your lover-boy ever found us together, I’ll get shish-kabobed and Sven will get eaten just for good measure.”
“Well, not just for good measure. Venison’s delicious.” Anya grinned. “I mean, you’re right, that might look a little bad. I wouldn’t want Hans to get the wrong idea of me.”
Kristoff and Sven stared at her slack-jawed.
Anya narrowed her eyes. “How about in exchange for a new sled?”
“Uh, royalty.” Anya pointed at herself. “If I make it through this, I can get you the nicest sled out there delivered to your front door gratis.”
Kristoff turned so he and Sven faced each other. Anya could hear both voices going back and forth in conversation. All she could make out was Kristoff saying “Sometimes, I hate you” before turning back to her. “Fine, where are we going?”