A Frozen Ballad, Part III

The Trolls

In ancient runes, the legends tell
Of strangest creatures, trolls,
Whose healing power stems from all
The magic they control.
And so the royal family
Took Anna, limp and cold,
On horseback to the valley where
Trolls live, as they were told.

They say the horse's path was trailed
By signs of Elsa's grief,
A line of hoary frost behind
Had caked on rock and leaf.
By nightfall they had reached the vale,
But nothing was in sight,
Just mossy rocks so strangely round
That littered all the site.

But hark! A rumbling of the earth,
And all the rocks revealed
That they had eyes and ears and noses
On the humans peeled.
The oldest and the craggiest
Came forth with worried gaze,
And placed a hand on Anna's head,
Who still lay in a daze.

"Fortunate, indeed we are,
It did not hit her heart.
The mind's a fool, it can be tricked,
Its workings picked apart.
When she awakes, her memories
Of magic will not stay,
But worry not, I'll leave behind
The wintry fun and play.

"And you, my child, must decide,
For better or for worse,
To see your power as a gift,
Or harder still, a curse.
And should you be consumed with fear,
Dear Elsa, then beware:
For then will rise your sad demise
In deep and dark despair."

"We'll keep her feelings under check,"
The King then interjected.
"We'll hide her powers inward so
She'll stay calm and collected."
His family then mounted off
All trembling in fear,
And from young Elsa's downcast eyes,
She shed a single tear.