[FFML] [Frozen] The Adventurer

[H. Torrance Griffin]

My muse stirs.  Frozen is Disney's and there are major implicit spoilers.





















The man chose the inn carefully.  Nearly a day's walk from the main port and along one of the few land-routes into Arendelle, he doubted his dark skin and worn hodgepodge of clothing would bring actual alarm on their own.  The well-worn sword-hilt would probably be another matter were he coming from the direction of more settled lands, but here it would serve as a useful distraction from the other weapons under his cloak.

The barkeep was civil, but neither he nor the farmers at ease in this time after the planting season nor the various woodsmen down from the hills stopped examining him sidelong as he nursed his cider and they chattered.  This was not greatly different from what he had seen many times before, but there were differences.  The glances were far more assessing that he would expect from places at peace, and he knew that at least half of his more martial gear was spotted before he finished the glass.

The more marked difference was in the conversations.  On the other side of the pass and across to the eastern sea, one could be certain to hear the tales he had been following for over a year now at such establishments no matter the hour.  Indeed he had been told to his face at the last inn before the passage he traversed to "'Ware the Ice Witch Outlander, for Arendelle is her domain."

Now that he was in Arendelle, not a word about her.  That in his experience meant he was probably closer than ever.

Finally the barkeep, a burly graying man who looked quite able to keep order at a rougher establishment than this, leaned close and caught his gaze with an expression of far more concern than challenge before he spoke.

"You a hunting man, stranger?" the barkeep asked softly in the trade tongue, "there's been people stronger than you looking for what you hunt, and they regret finding it."

"And how many weaker than I live where it roams at will?" the wanderer replied.  He was not the sort to refuse material rewards or glory, but the motive for his frequent battles with foes human and otherwise was rooted in an inability to let others suffer while he could do something.

The tavern grew silent for a moment, and the wanderer decided to elect for bluntness.  If there were spies it would draw his target out.

"Word has spread far and wide of a great and fearsome sorceress," he announced in a carrying voice, "spreading fear and confusion along with her snow and ice.  I have come to put an end to this."

"So have many others," the barkeep said with a worried glance out the door, "failure's a thing they also share.  She's powerful, dangerous, the ice itself bears monsters to do her bidding, and 'tis said she conjured a keep atop the North Mountain in a night... none in Arendelle will raise a hand against her."

"I shall try," the wanderer said simply as he rose and headed for the door, knowing how much more they had to lose, "the northern mountains you said?"

Then he stopped at the door and looked over the landscape.  It was green, peaceful.  Several thriving farms were visible down-slope, and the large capital could just be seen in the distance.  In his childhood he would have called the breeze he felt winter, but in these climes even without a calendar he knew far different.

"You seem to know much about the Queen of the Snow," the wanderer said looking back at the barkeep with suspicion, "but I wonder how much the land has felt her wrath."

The barkeep did not seem like a man caught in a lie.  He simply raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully while his patrons pursed lips and stroked chins.

"Does she simply extract a tithe, then?" the wanderer asked, exploring the riddle presented, "or-"

"Oh, the witch demands tribute all right," called out a slurred voice from the back of the tavern despite multiple attempts to hush him, "and the children. I swear I have never thought to imagine a day when... when...."

The wanderer reached for his blade, knowing no target was near.  Several of the other patrons twitched noticeably, and the barkeep averted his face.

"A SCHOOLHOUSE IN EVERY THIRD VILLAGE!" the apparent drunk burst out, "FIVE IN THE CAPITAL ALONE!!"

Laughter filled the tavern, as the wanderer stared incredulously.

"She rules here," he concluded, "directly.  And well."

"My cousin's a maidservant at the palace," a younger farmer chuckled as he wiped his eyes, "She ain't the sort to lie about laying eyes on her highness at least twice a week."

"He probbly 'eard she melts!" pointed out a toothless fellow near the barn.

"Look," the barkeep noted genially as he approached the wanderer, "you seem more reasonable than most folks coming up here for witch-slaying, so maybe you can help figure out how to get folks to leave our Snow Queen be.  Even sending three or four fellows a month to chase her ice-dolls around beyond the snow line, half the dungeons are filled with outlanders come to "Free Arendelle From The Witch's Icy Grip." while she tries to figure out where to send them back to."

"I suppose this was a wasted journey then," the wandered sighed ruefully, "I'll think on this while I find passage somewhere actually _warm_."

"Well I'd not call it wasted if it's a quiet day at court," called out the well connected farmer, "Her Majesty oft holds ice fairs in the castle courtyard when she get bored."

"Still ain't figured out how them fools coming down from North Mountain never tripped over one of those things," muttered one trapper to himself, "it's not like you can miss it when you get a good look at the city...."