@lightbegun : “Hi,” His head tilts up towards her as he speaks, stick fingers fidgeting anxiously in a habit he’d picked up from Elsa. He isn’t normally shy, but this is different. This is Elsa’s mother, who he’d heard so many stories of. Elsa’s mother, who had saved a boy and earned the blessing that had let Elsa make him. Olaf would like to make a good impression. “I’m Olaf. I’m… Elsa made me.”
HER EYES WIDENED A LITTLE AT the sight before her: what a wondrous thing! A shape Iduna was deeply familiar with, the little snowman her daughters would build as children, stood once more before her. And yet this one was so unlike the others: the inherent life in him, his sweet expression, and she could see a shadow of her eldest in the movement of his twig hands, one that made her crouch to his level and take a hand. Memories of a small form hiding behind her shirts as a small child filled her mind and had the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“Olaf,” she echoed, still a little shocked, but with a smile spreading across her face. “Of course you are. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
How much had her daughter’s powers grown? She still remembered well the days of wiping slush from chubby toddler fingers, and yet here was proof of a level of magic she couldn’t even comprehend. Perhaps it may have frightened her once upon a time: fear for her child, the trolls warning never far from her mind. But now? Now there was nothing but joy in learning what Elsa could do. How she had finally embraced her gift.
“How old are you, Olaf?” she asked, still gently holding a stick hand in her own.
