Sven’s eyes narrowed as if he’d been expecting something more urgent. Then the reindeer looked around the floor where the remains of his lunch were scattered. All wasted now. His big lips huffed a puff of air in frustration.

  “No, this is serious, I promise,” said Olaf.

  Sven gave Olaf a skeptical look.

  “It is,” Olaf insisted. “I know. I am an expert when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

  Sven’s skeptical look deepened.

  “If Mattias can’t dance with Halima at the midsummer festival,” explained Olaf, “then he’ll disappoint his one true love.”

  That got Sven’s attention, and the reindeer forgot all about his food. The snowman wasn’t the only expert in affairs of the heart. After all, it had been Sven who had helped a fumbling, insecure Kristoff propose to Anna. And look how well that had turned out. Clearly, something needed to be done here. Something that called for two experts in human romance. But what?

  Olaf raced out of the door, and Sven trotted after him.

  “We’ve got to find the best dance instructor in Arendelle,” the snowman explained.

  Sven nodded. That made sense.

  “One who knows a dance that works with two left feet,” said Olaf.

  That made less sense. However, Olaf was already heading across the courtyard toward the castle bridge, so Sven scooped him up in his antlers, and together they raced toward Market Square and help!

  Mattias met Queen Anna in the courtyard of the castle. He had a lot of important ideas concerning security for the upcoming midsummer festival. Arendelle had faced its share of threats, and while things had been quiet of late, one could never be too careful. Sometimes quiet times were just the calm before a storm. It was always good to be prepared. The two of them strode across the flagstones while Mattias detailed his plans.

  “We will have guards in each corner of the square,” he explained.

  “Very good,” said Anna.

  “That’s in addition to the ones on the walls.”

  “Of course,” said Anna.

  “And I could put a man in the clock tower.”

  “If you really think it’s necessary,” said Anna.

  “To keep watch over the town itself from that vantage point. And of course, we’ll patrol the outer walls.”

  Anna stopped walking and laid a hand on the general’s arm.

  “General, we’re allied with Vesterland. Elsa is our bridge to the spirits in the Enchanted Forest. We’ve made peace with the pirates. Arendelle is on good terms with Zaria, Chatho, and Vakretta. Even Weselton has been behaving. I appreciate all you and your soldiers do for me, for Arendelle, but it’s the midsummer festival. Don’t your soldiers need a break as well? Midsummer is a time to relax, to enjoy yourself, to get your knees up, as they say.”

  “Knees up?” said Mattias.

  “You know,” said Anna, lifting her feet enthusiastically. “Dancing.”

  Mattias turned his face away and swallowed.

  “Now that I think about it,” he said, “maybe I could take the post up in the clock tower myself.”

  “General,” said Anna. “Mattias,” she added, using his name to make sure she had his attention. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be at the midsummer festival?”

  “No, why would you say that?” stammered Mattias. “Why wouldn’t someone want to be there? It’s a very important tradition. At least I think it is. One which I’ve not been a part of in decades, being trapped in an Enchanted Forest, not being here to partake, to learn, to…” His voice trailed off.

  “Right,” said Anna. “I understand. You’ve missed a lot. You need to make up for lost time. Not hide up in the clock tower away from us all. You and your staff deserve to enjoy the festival, too.” She held up a hand before the general could object. “You could implement a rotation, let your soldiers join the festival in shifts. Doesn’t Halima need a date for the big dance?”

  “Yes, she does,” said the general. For a second, he let his military bearing drop, and his shoulders slumped. “One who can actually dance.” Then Mattias remembered himself and stood up very straight, hardly breathing. Oops. Did I say that? I didn’t say that, he thought.

  “Oh,” said Anna. She had a quick mind and realized instantly what this was about. “I’m sure Halima will understand. When you like someone, you like them for who they are inside. Little things like this aren’t important. And I know Halima thinks you’re wonderful.”

  “That’s just it. She waited for me all those years. What if I’m not as wonderful as she thinks I am?”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “If you say so,” said Mattias, but he didn’t seem convinced.

  “I do say so. I say that as your queen… and as your friend.”

  “Dance instructors incoming!” Olaf’s shout rang out across the courtyard, frightening a pair of rock pigeons into the air.

  Mattias and Anna turned in unison. In marched Sven, with Olaf riding between his antlers. Both reindeer and snowman puffed their chests out proudly. They appeared very pleased with themselves. Behind them came a procession of villagers.

  “Olaf, what is this?” asked Anna.

  “Oh, hi, Anna. Mattias told me that he can’t dance because he has two left feet. So I rounded up a troop of villagers. They each have a different dance to teach him. I’m sure one of them will work no matter what kind of feet you have!”

  Anna looked bemused and impressed, and Mattias looked skeptical, but a determined snowman was not someone who could easily be deterred.

  “Instructors, present!” shouted Olaf. He and Sven snapped to attention as the villagers came forward. Olaf marched down the line as if Mattias weren’t the only general present. He pulled off one of his arms and used it as a pointing stick. “Mrs. Blodget is here to teach a traditional country dance,” the snowman explained. Beside him, Mrs. Blodget curtsied politely. But when Olaf snapped his fingers on his disembodied hand, she leapt back to attention.

  “Anders knows a polka,” Olaf continued, indicating the fish merchant, who bowed. “Persi and Aggie will demonstrate a waltz. Noa and Maja have a hora, a traditional wedding dance, in case anyone is feeling matrimonial.” Olaf brought a hand to his mouth and whispered much too loudly, “I don’t think that’s going to come up, but it’s all they know.” Then he continued in a normal tone of voice. “Tilda and Niels have a mazurka. And Oaken will demonstrate a stick dance.”

  The owner of Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post and Sauna stepped forward.

  “Ja, it can be done with sticks or canes, but I find it’s always better with swords!”

  Oaken produced two blades from somewhere behind himself and waved them about in the air. Several villagers jumped back quickly, and Olaf’s head bounced above his torso, sparing him an accidental decapitation.

  General Mattias held out his hands placatingly.

  “This really isn’t necessary. Especially not the swords.” He turned to Anna. “Your Majesty, please explain to them that we have important business to discuss.”

  “Actually,” said Anna with a giggle, “I think we were about done. I need to go supervise the dessert selection, starting with the chocolates.” She turned toward the castle doors.

  “Please…” said Mattias. But Anna was already halfway across the courtyard.

  “Have fun,” she called back over a shoulder. “That’s an order. But do try to remember what I told you.”

  Mattias nodded, turning back to Olaf and his companions.

  “Go easy on me,” he said.

  “Easy?” said Oaken. “You know the saying: ‘A good anvil does not fear the hammer.’”

  Mattias looked at the wall of determined faces—young, old, furry, and frozen.

  He thought he saw a lot of hammers in their eyes.

  “Wonderful,” he said with a gulp.

  “They say that things are supposed to look fonder in hindsight,” said Olaf. “But looking back on yesterday, I’m not so sure that’s true. I’m still surprised by how badly everything went.”

  Sven nodded sadly. The villagers’ attempts to teach Mattias their dances had not gone as expected. In fact, it had nearly resulted in the general slicing off his own feet. Oaken’s sword dancing was definitely not for beginners. Or maybe for anyone but Oaken. The other dances hadn’t been as potentially life-threatening, but they hadn’t worked well, either.

  The snowman and the reindeer were trudging through the Enchanted Forest. Having exhausted all potential dance instructors in Arendelle, Olaf had decided to widen their search. If Arendellian dances didn’t account for two left feet, maybe someone somewhere else knew a dance that would. The trolls of the Valley of the Living Rock had been enthusiastic, but even Olaf could tell that their own dance moves involved too much rocking and rolling for a person who wasn’t made of stone to safely master. The midsummer festival was just days away, and they were running out of time.

  Olaf rarely felt down for long, but he cared about his friends. Because of this, he was so preoccupied with concern that it took him a moment to realize he was humming. Beside him, Sven had changed his steps from a trot to a rather merry canter. Olaf looked at the reindeer’s hooves. There was something about the way Sven was moving that had an odd rhythm to it. Step-step-jump. Step-step-jump. It was funny. Then Olaf heard something. A faint sound, carried on the summer breeze.

  “Is that music?” he asked.

  Beside him, the reindeer’s fuzzy ears twitched.

  It was music.

  It seemed to grow louder as they listened to it, as if the notes appreciated their attention and became more confident with an audience. The music grew stronger still.

  It was such a jolly, jaunty, happy tune that Olaf couldn’t help feeling elated.

  He saw it was affecting his companion beside him as well.

  The reindeer’s canter had changed. He was bouncing, stamping his hooves. Swinging in time with the notes.

  “Sven!” exclaimed Olaf, “You’re… dancing!”

  The reindeer’s face lit with surprise as he realized this as well. He stopped moving suddenly, but then his feet began to twitch on their own.

  Embarrassed, Sven pulled all four hooves together in a tight bunch from the knees down.

  But his furry back end betrayed him. His reindeer rump started swaying to the music.

  Then his hooves all jumped at once.

  It was clear Sven couldn’t help himself. In fact, the reindeer began to pirouette.

  Olaf considered his friend for a moment.

  “Sven is dancing,” he said. “And Sven has two left feet. He has two right feet as well, but that’s not really pertinent to the situation.”

  Olaf grabbed Sven by the muzzle to steady him, but the reindeer couldn’t stop and instead Olaf was swept into the air as Sven twirled in circles.

  “We’ve been searching for the right dance,” the snowman explained. “But it’s not the dance, it’s the music. Just like in Mattias’s story. And this music works with two left feet. We’ve got to find it and bring it back to Arendelle.” He bounced onto the reindeer’s back. “Follow the music, Sven! Follow the music!”

  Sven understood. The reindeer took off in the direction of the sound. Or rather, he tried to. He was attempting to gallop in a straight line, but his newfound fancy footwork was taking him all over the place. Sven swayed and glissaded back and forth across the hills and glades of the Enchanted Forest. He two-stepped, he four-stepped, he sashayed. At one point, when his hooves had a very different idea about direction than his head, Sven even bit a branch of a tree to pull himself along.

  But slipping and sliding, stepping and shuffling, whisking and tangoing, reindeer and snowman gradually made progress.

  The music grew louder as they followed it, until it was a full, resonant sound. It filled the woods and shook the leaves of the cottonwood trees. And along with the music there was another noise, the sound of water.

  That was when they saw it.

  A huge, roaring waterfall of clear spring water. It spilled down a tall cliff and collected in a mirror-bright little pool.

  Standing on a rock amid the spray was a very handsome and impeccably dressed young man. He had long flowing hair and clothes the color of the water. The man had his eyes half-closed in intense concentration, for he was playing a hardingfele. The fingers of his left hand flew across the fiddle’s strings, while his right hand moved the bow furiously.

  “Delightful,” said Olaf. He tipped forward into the music as if he were falling into the scent of the most fragrant flowers he’d ever smelled. Beside him, Sven was involuntarily cavorting in circles.

  The young man’s eyes opened fully. They seemed to twinkle in merriment at the newcomers. But he kept playing and Sven kept dancing until the song was finished. Then the young man lowered his bow and nodded.

  “Hei, hei,” said the strange fiddler. “Good day to you fine folk. What brings you to my waterfall?”

  Olaf approached to the edge of the pool, stopping just short of the water.

  “I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs. My distinguished companion is Sven, and he’s the better half of Arendelle’s ice master and deliverer. But that’s not important right now. We’re both experts on affairs of the heart, but we couldn’t teach Mattias to dance no matter how many dance instructors we found in the village. Even if we used swords. So, you see, that’s why we’ve followed your music, because reindeers have two left feet.”

  Sven shot Olaf an expression that clearly said he was appalled by how poorly the snowman had summarized their predicament. But the young man didn’t seem confused.

  He raised his bow to his fiddle.

  “You say you followed my… music,” he said playing out a quick three notes.

  In response, the reindeer’s feet went tap-tap-tap.

  “And you say you need help getting someone to… dance.”

  Three more quick notes and three more tappity-tap-taps from Sven.

  “If your music can make a reindeer dance,” said Olaf, “then it should be able to help a general.”

  “Oh, I can make anybody dance,” said the fiddler. “I can make everybody dance.”

  He played a few complete bars, and Sven began to dance automatically. Olaf watched the reindeer move. When he turned back to the pool, the fiddler was right next to him, so close their noses almost touched. Though how the stranger had gotten from the rock in the center of the water to the shore without getting wet was a mystery.

  “That’s not disconcerting,” said Olaf. He tapped his chin. “Come to think of it, a strange and very well-dressed gentleman I’ve never met before, out here all alone in a forest playing a fiddle in a waterfall without getting wet, who is immediately willing to help us with our problems should seem suspicious.” The snowman shrugged. “But I’m willing to ignore all that because it’s so coincidentally convenient.” He looked at Sven, who nodded agreement.

  “Will you come to Arendelle Castle for the midsummer festival and play a song so that Mattias can dance with Halima?” he asked the fiddler.

  “I haven’t been to Arendelle in a long time,” said the fiddler. “A very long time. I need to ensure I’m truly welcome. You’ll have to invite me in. You must meet me at the castle gates and invite me in personally. By name.”

  “But you haven’t told me your name,” Olaf pointed out.

  “Ah,” said the fiddler. “So I haven’t. Well, you can call me Grim.”

  “That sounds forbidding.”

  “Does it?” said the fiddler. “Then, instead, you may call me Fosse.”

  “Grim.. Fosse,” said Olaf.

  “Just meet me at the gate on the day of the festival,” said Fosse, “and invite me in. If you do as I’ve asked, I’ll make sure your General Mattias dances. Have no fear of that! Fear anything else you want, but have no fear of that!”

  “There you are, Destin,” said Halima.

  Mattias turned around as the love of his life clutched at his sleeve.

  “I haven’t seen you all day,” Halima continued. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were avoiding me.”

  “Me? What? Avoiding you?” replied Mattias. “No. Not at all. I’ve just had general things to do. I mean, not as in ‘things in general,’ I mean ‘being a general’ things. For the safety of Arendelle.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Halima, drawing the sound out and giving him a hard stare. Then she smiled. “Don’t worry. I know you have a lot of responsibilities. You do what you need to today, and I’ll see you for the first dance when the festival starts.”

  “About that,” began Mattias. “You know I’m not… I mean, I can’t…” His voice trailed off. Mattias wanted to tell her the truth, but he was afraid and embarrassed. Why was it that he would rather face a dozen angry Earth Giants than risk disappointing this one woman?

  “It’s okay,” said Halima. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, Destin. You don’t need to worry.”

  Searching for the right way to say what he needed to, Mattias looked around the courtyard. He couldn’t find the words. His eyes scanned the festive floral arrangements strung along the walls and castle eaves. Through the open castle doors, he could see the banquet tables were laden with food and drinks. Opposite the castle, the gates leading to the bridge were open wide. And there were Olaf and Sven. Olaf was talking to a well-dressed stranger carrying a musical instrument. The snowman saw the general and waved. Then he came bounding over, reindeer and musician in tow.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” said Halima, and she stepped away to go help with the decorating. Mattias was ashamed that he felt so much relief at being interrupted.

  “Good news, General,” said Olaf. “Sven and I have solved your problem.”

  “You have?” said Mattias. “But the festival starts soon. I don’t think I’ve got time to learn a new dance.”

  “Oh, you won’t have to learn anything,” said the snowman. He gestured to the stranger behind him. “This is Fosse.”

  Mattias looked at the young man. He saw that the instrument the stranger carried was a hardingfele. The traditional stringed instrument was different from other fiddles in that it had twice the number of strings. The four strings on top were played with the bow, while the remaining strings, called understrings, would resonate when the strings above were played. This made for a rich, full sound.