by Julia Mills
Laughing out loud, the elf turned on the appliance, adjusted the heat to just below body temperature and pointed the nozzle at the spot where the blanket had adhered itself to the ice. Slowly, the frozen blanket thawed and little by little Elsa pulled it away until she had the entire front of her patient uncovered.
Alone and with the ice beginning to thaw, the elf was shocked that amidst all the hair, the beard and what she now could see were bruises and not dirt, the man was even more handsome than she’d originally thought. The aristocratic line of his nose, and the strength of his jaw in contrast to the softness she could see in his lips was mesmerizing. It didn’t matter that they were blue from the cold or that the color of his skin, at least for now, was a shade darker than wax paper. Closing her eyes, he appeared tall and regal, standing on a hillside, holding a sword, battling the forces of evil, protecting those he held most dear. There was no doubt that despite his present condition, once out of the ice and back on his feet, he would be muscular, with broad shoulders and the strength of an ox.
Slowly opening her eyes, Elsa squealed, immediately clicked off the hand-held warmer and dropped it to the ground before leaning over and staring at a circle, the size of a softball on her patient’s chest that was completely melted. The exposed skin was bright red from the heat and the ice surrounding the hole slowly cracked towards his extremities, creating a weird mosaic that would’ve been cool had the guy underneath not been a mansicle.
Remembering what her father had said about causing irreparable damage from warming frostbitten skin up too quickly, Elsa said another quick prayer she hadn’t done more harm than good and simply waited. After a few incredibly tense moments of watching the tiny circle of skin for any changes and seeing none, she declared her patient no worse than when she’d found him. Getting to her feet, she swaddled him in the bedding blankets and topped it off with an electric blanket set on the lowest temperature.
Positioning four of her father’s heat lamps around him in a weird kind of rectangular shape, Elsa made sure his entire body would get the same exposure to the warmth, before carefully choosing a low temperature to avoid any further mishaps. Checking everything one last time, she clicked the lamps on and plopped down on an old milking stool her father had found on one of his travels, tired but happy with her accomplishments.
Pulling off the green and white stripped stocking cap she had forgotten about until it slipped over her forehead, Elsa sighed as her long red curls escaped the bun she’d tied them in earlier that day and fell down her back. Brushing a few stray hairs out of her face, the elf mused, “Well, bucko, now we let the lights and the heat do all the work. Hopefully in a day or two you’ll be thawed out and on your way home.”
Sadness, dark and all-encompassing made Elsa look away. She didn’t want him to leave. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him, had no clue if she would even like him when he wasn’t a popsicle or that he was basically a giant compared to her, none of it changed how she felt. She wanted to get to know him, was interested to learn his likes, dislikes, what made him laugh, what made him scream…if he was as interested in her as she was in him. There was a magnetism about him. It pulled her in, kept her close and made her want to know more.
“Oh well, as Dad would say, ‘only time will tell’.” She smiled at the man lying on the floor of her barn and chuckled, “You just lay there and thaw out. I’m gonna sit here for a bit to make sure everything’s okay before I head in to eat.”
Leaning back against the metal post in the corner of the stall, Elsa yawned, “I hope Mom made pot roast. Her yawn was so fierce her eyes watered. “I really like post roast. What about…” Her words trailed off as she fell fast asleep.
Chapter Three
Dreams came quickly. At first, she was walking through a meadow on a bright sunny day…
The glorious fragrance of the spring blooms filled the air as Elsa raised her face to the sun, threw her arms out to the side and spun in circles, enjoying her first ever real spring day. It wasn’t that there weren’t seasons in the Arctic Circle, it was just that they all involved snow in one way or another. Nothing in her almost hundred years had ever been as glorious as the feel of running along in her bare feet, wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt and shorts, in the heat of the day.
Watching the majestic dragons fly overhead made the elf long for her own wings so that she might also soar among the clouds. Elsa was in awe as their brilliant scales glittering in the noonday sun like so many priceless gems being offered to the Heavens as gifts for their many blessings.
Giggling out loud as the blades of grass slipped between her toes and tickled the bottom of her feet, her laughter soon turned to squeals of delight as strong, masculine hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The deep male chuckle joined with her own making goose bumps raise all over her body and sending chills of excitement skittering up and down her spine.
“Put me down you beast,” she teased.
Loosening his grip and turning her towards him, her lover let Elsa slip through his hands until they were looking into one another’s eyes. She shivered, the rich baritone of his voice rumbling through her as he murmured with a grin, “Beast, is it? Let us see how this beast loves his maiden,” before gently touching his lips to hers.
It was a slow and passionate embrace, starting as a simple kiss but evolving into something life-affirming and exhilarating. Their hearts beat as one. The depth of their feelings rose within them. One soul reaching for another, longing to be one.
Softly, but with a determination only rivaled by their need, he sought entrance and without thought or doubt, the elf opened completely, body, heart and soul, to the man she now recognized as her mate. The missing pieces of the puzzle that had been absent for so long, now fell into place.
His hair, long and silken, wrapped around her fingers and as she held him close, never wanting to be separated from the one who completed her as nothing and no one ever had. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her body to his. The strength of his arousal pushed against her center. Elsa tore her lips from his with a gasp just as a bellowed, “Holy Hell are ya’ tryin’ to cook me alive?” Pulled her from her dreams.
Scrambling to her feet while wiping the sleep from her eyes and searching for the source of the disruption, Elsa nearly tripped over the milking stool as she jumped back at the sight of her frozen man standing before her, very definitely unfrozen and quite obviously very unhappy with his accommodations.
Pointing at her as he took a step forward, he growled in a scratchy baritone with a thick accent like her cousins’ who lived in the Highlands, “Are you the one who tried to burn me with your witchcraft?”
Shaking where she stood, unable to figure out what he was talking about, Elsa stammered, “W-w-witchcraft?”
“Yes, witchcraft.” He took another step forward. “What else can this be?” He swung his long arm to the side, knocking over two heat lamps in his exasperation.
The clatter of the equipment hitting the ground and the thought of what her father was going to do if they were broken, snapped Elsa out of her fear and had her stepping up to the man and replying, “I’m not a witch. I’m an elf. See the ears?” She turned her head, pushed back her curls and pointed at the side of her head. Then taking another step forward, she put her hands on her hips, leaned towards him and spat, “I’m the one who saved your frozen butt from the silver coffin and that nasty magic. Had to listen to my sister bitch and moan all the way home and then slept on a milking stool to make sure you were okay and this is how you act?” She sucked her teeth. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
Glaring at the man, who was even taller standing up than she had imagined he would be, Elsa refused to be intimidated as she watched first confusion, then anger, then more confusion coupled with frustration and finally good old fashion suspicion cross his face as he narrowed his eyes and asked, his voice fluctuating between just scratchy to barely a whisper and back again, “What did you say abo
ut a silver coffin?”
Rethinking her plan after hearing the tone of his voice and watching his auras pulse a deep angry red, the elf stood tall but eased her stance, letting her hands slide off her hips as she answered, “I said I found you locked in a silver coffin.” Taking a deep breath and a step closer, she held out her hand, trying to be calm. “I think you need to sit down before you fall down. You’re looking a little worse for wear there, bub.”
Batting her hand away, he grumbled, “And there was magic?”
His tone was softer but his aura was still raging as she said, “Yes, there was some kind of really dark, nasty mysticism holding you inside a big silver box that resembled a coffin and was buried in the snow. There were sigils all over it that popped and smelled like the backside of a flatulent walrus when I hit them with my Elven Light.”
She paused for a second, trying to decide the best way to get him to at least sit down when he asked, “Sigils?”
“Yes.” She answered, then immediately added, “Oh! Wait! I can show you,” as she raced past him, forgetting all about her initial fear and grabbing her pack. Riffling through the contents, she mumbled, “There you are,” as she stood up and hurried back to the man while flipping the pages to find her sketches.
Standing beside him she explained, “This one and these,” she pointed at the images, “were all over the place… some big, some small, just pretty much everywhere and they slithered and hissed before exploding into this icky black smoke.” Her finger made contact with the paper as she remembered what she’d gone through. “But this big guy, he was huge and right in the middle of the lid. It took a lot of light and power and then when I finally thought I had it beat, the symbol floated into the air and spun around before bursting into a shower of sparks and ash.”
Turning to the next page, she shook her head, “And don’t get me started on this bad boy. It was on the lock. I thought I might never get it off of there, but finally it popped open and there you were.”
It occurred to her that in her excitement to explain, she hadn’t really given him a chance to speak but neither had he tried to interrupt. If the tables were turned, Elsa knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would’ve been asking a hundred and one questions. Turning her head and glancing up, Elsa was shocked to see the man staring at her instead of the paper. Immediately enthralled by the deep emerald of his eyes and the way they glistened like her mother’s antique brooch in the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree, the elf found herself leaning towards him.
Visions of dragons soaring through the sky and kisses unlike anything she’d ever known flooded her consciousness. The memory of her dream burst into her mind. Her heart raced. Her palms got sweaty. Her cheeks were immediately hot from her blush as she took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to her mind to distract from her discomfort, “Are you even paying attention? Am I wasting my time here?”
She had been snippy. There was no doubt about. It wasn’t the man’s fault, but she never had been one to deal with embarrassment in a graceful manner. As the youngest of seven girls, it had been an hourly occurrence growing up. She knew her sisters hadn’t meant any harm, it was all in fun and just what sisters do, but it had gotten really old… really fast. It hadn’t taken long for her to learn to fight back. She became the first to tell a joke, the first to laugh at herself and the first to have a witty comeback. It had served her well for almost a hundred years, but standing side-by-side with a man who was truly larger than life made the elf a bundle of nerves and insecurities. Of course, that didn’t stop her from cocking an eyebrow and grumping, “Well?” When he didn’t immediately respond.
Instead of answering, he closed the distance between them and reached for a wayward curl hanging over her shoulder. Twirling it around his finger, he sighed, “So soft.” To which Elsa’s mind went blank and she stood like a tin soldier, gazing at the strand of red hair embracing his digit.
Watching the man, standing right next to him, Elsa began to notice subtle changes. His eyes weren’t as sunken and the dark circles beneath them had lightened. The cuts and bruises visible through the ice were all but healed with only yellowing spots and raised pink scars remaining in their place. Although his hair was still long, tangled and matted, it shone in the light from the two remaining heat lamps, revealing a myriad of highlights and his beard looked more like soft whiskers than prickly straw.
Her eyes fell to his lips and it suddenly became hard to breathe. No longer were they drawn in a thin, blue line plagued by cracks and sores but now, pink and healthy with just the corner raised in a half-grin which widened the longer she stared.
Clearing her throat, Elsa’s eyes dropped to his chest where the proof of his miraculous healing was even more evident. No longer did he bare any resemblance to a zombie…oh no, quite the opposite. The outline of well-developed muscles that flexed and grew more defined before her eyes were visible through his threadbare shirt. Unable to look away, her mouth dropped open as the head of a dragon tattoo practically came to life on the left side of his chest. Of its own volition, her hand crossed the scant inches separating their bodies and with just the tip of her index finger, she moved the thin material to the side revealing an incredibly life-like representation of a mighty dragon whose emerald eyes she swore looked right into her soul.
Mesmerized, her eyes followed the outline of the beast’s body down the man’s side and around his ribs until a sudden inhale and his hand wrapped around hers woke Elsa from her daydream. Ripping her fingers from his grasp, her eyes flew to his as magic filled the air and her heart skipped a beat.
Jumping back, she breathed, “Who are you? What are you?”
Throwing his shoulders back, he announced with a pride that resonated in his words, “I am a Dragon Guardsman of the…of the…”
His expression immediately turned dark. Elsa didn’t have to see his aura to know he was angry and confused. Slapping his hands to his head, the man turned around in a complete circle before looking at the elf with such sadness and grief she reached out to him as he said, “I don’t know who I am. I can’t remember.”
Forgetting all about dragons and tattoos and the way being near this man made her insides all warm and tingly, Elsa wrapped her hand around his forearm and led him to the back of the barn, into the changing room her dad had built, complete with showers and cubby holes for all the girls to store extra clothing. Halfway during their walk through the barn, her frozen man pulled his arm from her hands. He let it drop to his side in a hopeless kind of motion that accentuated the feelings of loss and confusion flowing from him straight into her soul. It broke her heart and made the elf all the more determined to help get back all he’d so obviously lost, and she figured a bath was a good way to start the process. It only stood to reason that if he felt more like himself he would be more at ease and therefore it would easier for him to remember.
Sitting him in her father’s desk chair, the largest seat in the place, Elsa chuckled at how he overflowed the small, in comparison to him, piece of furniture as she collected a washcloth, a towel and a bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink. She laughed out loud when it dawned on her that he was at least six-foot-six inches tall and she was barely five foot nothing, thinking they must look like David and Goliath when side-by-side.
Walking to the sink and turning on the water, she asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?” Then added when he didn’t respond, “Before you went into cold storage?” The words had barely crossed her lips before she was apologizing, “I am so sorry. You have to excuse my stupid sense of humor. I open my mouth before I engage my brain about ninety-nine percent of the time. I really meant no disrespect.”
Looking over her shoulder when he still didn’t answer, Elsa almost fainted dead away at the mere sight of his smile. It literally brightened up his entire being. His aura was a bright white and when he chuckled, she could feel his happiness. “I like your wit,” his voice was barely a whisper and she wondered why his magic wasn’t cur
ing his sore throat.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, the man responded while holding her eyes captive, “When I was a young Guardsman, the lads and I were in a battle against the wizards. I took a direct hit to the neck. The healers did their best but my vocal cords never healed in quite the same way, so my voice tends to go in and out at will.”
Spinning and running to him, Elsa dropped to her knees, “Forget the fact that you answered a question I didn’t ask, you remembered something! Who are the lads? Maybe we can call them.”
His smile to turned to a look of intense concentration before his brows furrowed and he slowly shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t know where that memory came from and,” he stood and walked past her to the sink, “I heard you ask the question about my healing, here.” He pointed to his temple. Then over his shoulder, he added, “And before you ask, I have no clue how I did that either.”
Standing and then plopping into the chair he had just left, Elsa watched as the man looked at the bar of soap and then rubbed the washcloth between his fingers almost like it was a new sensation. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing and opened her mouth to ask as he dropped both back on the counter and in one fluid motion removed his shirt, letting it fall to the ground.
Needless to say, her mouth hung open, her eyes nearly fell out of her head and her heart went into overdrive. It didn’t matter that he had all manner of scars, some large, some small, some really old and some that looked pretty recent, he was still absolutely the model of the perfect male physique and Elsa was enjoying ogling him like one of the actors in the movie magazines her sister, Harmony, was always hiding under her bed.
