The Quest For Hope

The Escape

The Escape 

King Agnarr jumped from his bed. Beads of sweat slid down his temples as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Howling wind forced its way into his chamber, extinguishing the dim candlelight. 

Braving the cool stones of the castle floor, he walked to the window at the far end of his chamber. A soft tendril of smoke danced above the blown-out candles. Relighting them, he watched the orange flames flicker in the wind. 

Now awake, he leaned over the windowsill, peering into the courtyard below. Small flecks of glittering light reflected off the garden's fountains. Around it, dark cobblestones curved, disappearing into the growing shadows. Nothing stirred in the darkness. 

Looking past the courtyard, beyond the castle walls toward the eastern mountains, he watched the rolling hills disappear under a wave of fog. He let out a great sigh, wishing memories could fade the same way.

He wrapped his velvet robe tighter as the wind blew against his face. As his eyes sought clarity from the outside, his mind wandered back to the nightmare that plagued him. Every year on the eve of his children's birthday, Kind Agnarr relieved the same dream.

The warm summer breeze and the horn's song greeted him as he stood at the window. A stream of royal visitors and merchants lined the rolling hillsides on their journey to Arendelle. In anticipation of the summer tournaments and royal births, attendance doubled, bursting the seams of the small kingdom. Peering into the courtyard below, he watched the frenzy with a sad smile. Under colourful banners, people ran back and forth, carrying bundles of fabric, bouquets of wildflower, and piles of farm produce. The smells of freshly-baked bread and pastries wafted up to him, mixing with the spicy blend of the Trolls' incense.

A soft tap on the shoulder brought him back to the room.

"My King," the troll Pabbie whispered. "There's nothing more we can do for her. The Queen has passed beyond the grasping hands of our magic." King  Agnarr's heart dropped. The room filled with sage and sandalwood spun as he looked at the group of trolls surrounding the bed. Stumbling forward, he dropped to his knees, cradling Iduna's pale hand in his. With a heave, he wept, burying his tear-stained face in his hands.

"We knew this day was coming, my lord," Pabbie said, sharing a look of concern with the other trolls. "The mirror warned that a sacrifice was necessary to protect the kingdom. She died for you. Giving her life to bring you these wonderful children and save..." Pabbie stopped as his eyes connected with the King's 

Tears froze on the King Agnarr's face. His jaw clenched as the troll's words. "She did this for me?" The king bellowed, heat rising in his cheeks. "She sacrificed herself and left me alone for my benefit? How dare you! This was your failure, not her sacrifice!"

King Agnarr stood and looked the older troll in his eyes. his face matched the red of his velvet robe. "Hear my words, great troll. This will not go unpunished."

Waving his arms abruptly, he ushered them out, shutting the door in haste behind them. He approached the queen. his body shook as new tears rolled down his cheeks. He wept until the golden light from the windows faded, his fingers lingering on Iduna's silk gown. 

the morning sun rose over the horizon, streaking the countryside with an orange and rad wave. King Agnarr didn't notice this beauty-or any beauty. Sitting calmly on his throne, he watched as the room filled with visitors. His face, like stone, refused to give way, noticing but not reacting to the growing crowd, or their sympathies.

With weary eyes and a tight jaw, he looked over the room. Faces painted with anticipation, fear, and curiosity stared back at him. No one had expected him this morning. He barked an order to a nearby steward, breaking the silence. 

The steward's eyes bulged as King Agnarr delivered his message. With a curt nod of approval, the steward lifted his horn to his lips, announcing the royal decree.

The horn echoed off the stained glass windows crowning the throne room. The gathered crowd quieted, looking at the steward expectantly. The knights stood straight against the side wall, and the trolls folded their arms inside their robes.

  "By royal decree," the steward's voice croaked, "the service of the trolls are no longer needed or approved of in this kingdom." The uproar of the room overpowered his weak voice. the other trolls leaned in toward their leader, Pabbie, with questioning looks. Pabbie refused to break eye contact with the king.

with another nod, the king encouraged the steward to continue. A small smile broke the severity of the king's face as he heard his order proclaimed. "By reason of treason, you are to be punished with death." the steward hung his head with the last word.

A shocked grasp ran through the hall. With a wave of his arm, the king directed the knights into position around the unarmed men.

Pabbie tightened his lips and kneeled before the throne. "My lord, please reconsider these actions. It is not our fault. You must know that."

Every head turned to the king.

King Agnarr stood, amplifying his authority. "I thought the proclamation to understand. You said it yourself, you knew of the tragedy before it happened." Taking slow steps toward Pabbie, he continued. "You saw this coming-the death of my wife, your queen-and you did nothing. With all your power and foresight, you did nothing to stop this atrocity. That alone is punishable by death."

The king hesitated at the depth of grief in Pabbie's eyes. "However, you are my beloved kinsmen, and so I shall save you. Exile is generous. You're to leave by day's end. Be warned, if you so much as enter the kingdom or whisper its name, your protection will be gone, and I will not stop my men from killing you."

King Agnarr stormed out amidst a confused uproar of questions.

The next sound King Agnarr heard pulled at his heart. Outside the royal nursery, his hands stayed on the steel handle.

The nurse opened the door, cradling a baby in each arm. "Your Majesty," she cried, exasperated. "The children, they cry for you."

"No," he answered, looking down at the women, "They cry for their mother."

The wind shrieked through the window, blowing out the candles once more. King Agnarr let the darkness hid his tears.

"My Iduna, sixteen years have passed, and the children and i still grieve for you as if it were yesterday," King Agnarr whispered into the night.