[Part VII] Foudroyant Roses

Throughout Klara’s long journey from their small town to the icy palace where he now resided, Rune had never thought of his little playmate, even for one small second; nor did it ever occurred to him that she was determined to bring him back to where he belonged. Or that she would soon come to confront his Snow Queen.

The throne room in which he usually sat was crystal clear; it was once made of the strongest steel and wood, but by the order of the Snow Queen, the whole castle was rebuilt into a perpetually frozen ice sculpture.

It glittered and sparkled all year round, and when the northern lights showed off their vividly glowing and dancing streaks in the dark night, it could be seen through every inch of the castle; which itself had hundreds and hundreds of rooms.

Yes, it was extremely beautiful, and in Rune’s eyes there was nothing that could match his new home, unless you counted the Snow Queen.

“Now, little Rune,” she had said as she pecked him on his forehead once more during their grand arrival to Lapland, warding the cold from his small body once more, “Let me give you a housewarming present.”

He had greedily tore through the green package handed over to him and to his surprise, it was a set of sharp and flat ice pieces that were fitted together into a square.

“Is this a Chinese puzzle?” he had asked, cold azure eyes widening as large as saucers.

The beautiful Snow Queen had nodded, pleased to see Rune enjoying her present. “You must know how to play this game then. Little one, when you finally find out how to piece a certain word together, you shall become your own master, and I shall give you my throne and a new pair of skates.”

Rune’s eyes widened even more. “What word is it?”

She laughed, running her cold fingers through his bouncy golden ringlets that were nearly identical to her own tresses. “Eternity is the key, dear.”

And so he spent his days next to the icy throne on which the Snow Queen sat, using his talented fingers to piece together many different figures and words; to him, this was of the highest importance, and whenever a servant interrupted his work to ask what he wished to eat or drink, he would rudely push him or her away, and say crossly, “Go away, you are messing my puzzles up.”

Then the Snow Queen would laugh again, patting his head. “What an amiable little boy you are,” and so forth.

Of course, he never quite managed to form two words with the ice Chinese puzzle: the first was ‘rose’, the second was ‘eternity’. Gathering up his courage, he had marched up to her and boldly asked why he couldn’t piece together the word ‘rose’.

A resounding slap that echoed through the vast and empty throne room was his only answer.

“Do not mention that word to me, you insolent boy,” she had hissed, her stormy blue orbs seeming to harden even further.

Rune threw tantrums throughout the day until the Snow Queen decided to forgive him with a kiss, and that was the end of it.

“Rune, my lovely boy,” she said one day, pulling him closer to peck him on the forehead, “It seems that some rebels from your former town has come to defeat me.”

They raised their heads and roared in laughter.

“How is this possible?” he managed to giggle. “They’re all just nitwits with brains slightly larger than a pea.”

“Yes; that is why I will join the regiment myself to witness their downfall.” she rose up from her icy seat, still laughing.

He pulled on the soft furry sleeve of her dress, and looked beseechingly at her. “Can I please come?”

The Snow Queen mock sighed. “I’m sorry, little Rune; this is only possible when you piece out ‘eternity’ for me.” And she strolled out of the hall, still laughing, leaving a disgruntled Rune behind.

So he sat in his comfy mini-throne and started his game again, dragging the ice pieces together and separating them, repeating the action again and again; mind pondering about all the possibilities that ‘eternity’ could be pieced out.

Right at this moment, Klara burst into the empty hall; seeing Rune sitting there frowning was enough to spur her frozen feet on. She threw her arms around his stiff neck and cried, “Oh, Rune! I have finally found you!”

There was no reply; Rune chose to ignore the girl and continued on arranging the puzzle.

Then Klara could stand it no more, and shed bitter tears, knowing that the Snow Queen had won, that all their times in the summer sun were at an end, that all she had fought for was useless.

But those hot tears dripped onto Rune’s chest; they warmed his heart and thawed it. A sudden bubble of laughter frothed in his chest, and he frowned even more, for it now was a foreign feeling to him. He looked disapprovingly up at a still weeping Klara, and she took his hand, and sang:



The raw longing and desperateness in her pure voice was enough to make him cry, and as he wept for all the injustice in the world, the splinter of the nasty looking-glass slipped out and he finally remembered who he really was.

“Klara!” he cried. “Oh, where have you been all this time? And how cold it is here,” he shivered.

Before his dearest playmate could reply, the Snow Queen fled inside the hall, Edward right behind her, brandishing a sword tainted with blood and gore.

“Rune, oh Rune!” she cried, “Grab that sword from the wall and throw it to me! Or else the horrible man chasing me will kill us all!”

But neither Rune nor Klara fetched her sword for her. They both looked deep into each other’s eyes, and holding hands, they went in front of the desperate Queen and sang the hymn not once but twice, Edward joining in:



The Snow Queen screamed and pulled at her hair in agony. “Stop it! Stop singing!” She stuck her long fingers into her ears, but the hymn resonated through the vast and empty hall.

Then Edward stepped up to her kneeling form, and gently said, “Rose, this isn’t you. This was never you.”

With that, the small town trio held hands and left the weeping Queen all alone in the vast, empty throne hall.

Roars of men were heard through the thin transparent walls of the melting ice palace, and they could see the captain from the Amarovian legion savagely setting the place on fire.

Under the archway that led to the throne hall, they looked back and saw the Snow Queen --- no, Rose, they corrected themselves --- had stood up, but she wasn’t moving. Nor did she scream when the icy structure finally gave way and collapsed into a sea of water and snow.

In that instant, when Rose closed her eyes for the last time, when the grandeur of the ice palace came crashing upon her, the ice pieces shifted as the ground trembled beneath them, forming a perfect figure that guaranteed Rune’s freedom: “Eternity”.

Klara, Rune and Edward walked through the bloody battlefield filled with slain men and out of the metal gates. They did not look back at the destruction their men had made; they knew the Amarovians would raze Lapland to the ground, and there was nothing they could do about it.

They went onwards, the remaining men from their town silently following behind. They would not look back and see the burning skyline; nor would they look at the bleak, barren, charred remains.

They had come for the two playmates and for the Snow Queen’s life, and that was enough.

As they passed by the Snow Queen’s mother’s hut, they could see that the smoking chimney had died out. “Should we see her?” Rune asked, but he knew what he would see inside.

The devilishly hot hut was cold now; the warm, bubbling air inside had grown stale and stank of regret and bitter-sweetness. Thus they did what they could --- built a pyre and cremated the wise woman’s hanged body, inscribing a tombstone for her ashes:



But nothing lasts forever; no desolation would never grow. For as they stumbled through bracken and forest, marsh and wood, they could see the wildflowers blossoming into bloom and see the green treetops grow taller and taller.

And when Rune and Klara finally arrived back at the town, the tiredness that went deep into their bones and the memories of their journey into the wide world dissolved and went away like they were being awaken from a bad dream.

They went upstairs to the attic, where the roses were in full bloom; and they sat in their little seats by each other. Grandmamma was there, basking in the warmth of the sunshine and she read aloud from the Bible:



Rune and Klara immediately understood the words of the hymn they kept singing ever since they were young:



The birds twittered, the flowers blossomed and the sun shone on; but, most importantly, the roses continued to grow and entwine with each other.

And it was finally, spring once more.






































Part I ＊ Part II ＊ Part III＊ Part IV ＊ Part V ＊ Part VI

Spoiler

This is the last part of my contest entry for SporkPunk's 21 Century Fairytale Contest! Please tell me what you thought of it. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoyed the story as much as I did.

Wow! Everthing wrapped up nicely, and the destruction of Rose's castle was really cool. I also liked how the puzzle finally slid into place once she was dead. It was a nice touch.
All in all, I liked Foudroyant Roses a lot!
Keep writing!