The King of Arendelle

Lever

Anna was brought to the Greathall, which was the home of the Chieftess.

Greeting her was a tall woman in her forties, her auburn hair was in three braids behind her head. She had a slender frame and a defined jawline. Anna could feel the fire's warmth from the doorway, and she was instantly met with the comfort of a mother's embrace around her near-hypothermic body.

"Er hún eftirlifenda?"

"Já. Við fundum hana og eina í viðbót. Hiccup taka sér um hann."

The woman took Anna inside. "Þér er svo kalt..." She was able to make out what the woman was saying.

"Taler du dansk eller norsk?" Anna shivered.

"Jeg snakker norsk." Said the woman, her accent even thicker than the man's when she spoke Norwegian. "Here, sit." She told the blonde, Fishlegs, to leave and he did, closing the door behind him. "Your clothes are soaked." She noted; no wonder Anna was about to freeze. She'd been in those damp clothes all night. "We need to get them off."

"What?" Anna knew she meant it innocuously (and to save her life) but the thought of someone tearing her clothes off of her wasn't a welcome one. After all, it made her recall the many times she'd had her skirts or dresses pried off of her against her will. "No, no, please!"

"Hush, child." She whispered, "It's to help you." The woman took off Anna's vest, then when she tried to help remove her dress, Anna squirmed away.

"No, no, no, no!"

"Shhh..." The woman took her face, so gently, and gazed into her eyes. Bright green irises to saddened green ones.

Sofðu unga ástin mín.
Úti regnið grætur.
Mamma geymir gullin þín,
gamla leggi og völuskrín.
Við skulum ekki vaka um dimmar nætur.

She sang so sweetly, and she continued to do so as Anna allowed her to take her clothes off so she could cover her with a dry, warm blanket.

Það er margt sem myrkrið veit,
minn er hugur þungur.
Oft ég svarta sandinn leit
svíða grænan engireit.
Í jöklinum hljóða dauðadjúpar sprungur.

She continued to press the blanket to Anna's face, ensuring she was warm. Getting out of those clothes had certainly helped.

Sofðu lengi, sofðu rótt,
seint mun best að vakna.
Mæðan kenna mun þér fljótt,
meðan hallar degi skjótt,
að mennirnir elska, missa, gráta og sakna.

Tears filled Anna's eyes. She had forgotten what having a mother felt like... For just one moment, she wanted to feel it again.

"Thank you," she whispered, moved beyond words by all the selflessness she'd seen, "thank you... thank you..."

"Shh..." She felt the woman's arms wrap around her. She was surprised only when Anna buried her face into her chest and began to weep.

"Will you sing for me again?" Anna bid; her mother used to sing her lullabies.

The woman couldn't refuse a face so despondent.

...

Dawn was breaking among the campers at the peak of the mountain.

None had the strength to start heading downhill and so they endured one more night in the spot they'd been attacked. They dug for hours, searching for survivors and burying those who were slain. Hans and Anna Westergaard, as well as Jackson, were not among them.