(Elsa obviously interrupted Granny at this point because her whole thing about fears transforming themselves into what you are most afraid of was actually nicked from Harry Potter, because that’s how a boggart works. And then Granny had snorted and answered, “Maybe it’s that Harry muppet who nicked it from me?” And then Elsa had sneered, “Harry Potter doesn’t steal!” And then they had argued for quite a long time about that, and in the end Granny gave up and mumbled, “Fine, then! Forget the whole bloody thing! Fears don’t transform themselves, they just bite and try to scratch your eyes, are you SATISFIED now or what?” And then Elsa had left it there and they went on with the story. ) That’s when the two golden knights showed up. Everyone tried to warn them about riding up the mountain, but they didn’t listen, of course. Knights can be so damned obstinate. But when they came up the mountain and all the fears welled out of the caves, the golden knights didn’t fight. They didn’t yell and swear as other warriors would have done. Instead the knights did the only thing you can do with fears: they laughed at them. Loud, defiant laughter. And then all the fears were turned to stone, one by one.
Granny was fond of rounding off fairy tales with things being turned to stone because she wasn’t very good at endings. Elsa never complained, though. The Noween was obviously put in prison for an indeterminate length of time, which made it insanely angry. And the ruling council of the Land-of-Almost-Awake decided to appoint a small group of inhabitants from each of the kingdoms, warriors from Mibatalos and dream hunters from Mirevas and sorrow-keepers from Miploris and musicians from Mimovas and storytellers from Miamas, to keep guard over Telling Mountain. The stones of the fears were used to rebuild the peak higher than ever, and at the foot of the mountain the sixth kingdom was built: Miaudacas. And in the fields of Miaudacas, courage was cultivated, so that no one would ever again have to be afraid of the fears.
Or, well. That is what they did until, as Granny once told Elsa, after the harvest they took all the courage plants and made a special drink of them, and if you had some of it you became incredibly brave. And then Elsa did a bit of Googling and then she pointed out to Granny that it wasn’t a very responsible analogy to divulge to a child. And then Granny groaned, “Oh, right, okay, let’s say they don’t drink it, it’s just THERE, okay?!” So that’s the whole story of the two golden knights who defeated the fears. Granny told it every time Elsa was afraid of anything, and even though Elsa was often quite right in her criticism of Granny’s storytelling technique, it actually worked every time. She wasn’t at all as afraid afterwards.
The only thing the story never worked on was Granny’s fear of death. And now it wasn’t working on Elsa either. Because not even fairy tales defeat shadows.
“Are you scared?” asks Mum.
“Yes,” admits Elsa.
Mum doesn’t tell Elsa not to be afraid, and she doesn’t try to trick her into believing that she shouldn’t be. Elsa loves her for that.
They are in the garage and have pushed the backrest down in Renault. The wurse floats out over everything between them, and Mum unconcernedly scratches its pelt. She wasn’t even angry when Elsa confessed that she’d been keeping it hidden in the storage unit. And she wasn’t scared when Elsa introduced her. She just started stroking it behind its ear as if it were a kitten.
Elsa reaches out and feels Mum’s belly and Halfie contentedly kicking in there. Halfie is not afraid either. Because she/he is completely Mum and George, whereas Elsa is half her dad and Elsa’s dad is afraid of everything. So Elsa gets afraid of about half of everything.
Shadows more than anything.
“Do you know who he is? The man who was chasing me?” she asks.
The wurse buffets its head against hers. Mum gently caresses her cheek.
“Yes. We know who he is.”
“Who’s we?”
Mum takes a deep breath.
“Lennart and Maud. And Alf. And me.” It sounds as if she’s going to reel off more names, but she stops herself.
“Lennart and Maud?” Elsa bursts out.
Mum nods. “I’m afraid they know him best of all.”
“So why did you never tell me about him, then?” Elsa demands.
“I didn’t want to scare you.”
“That hardly worked, did it?”
Mum sighs. Scratches the wurse’s pelt. The wurse, in turn, licks Elsa’s face. It still smells of sponge cake mix. Unfortunately, it’s quite difficult to be angry when someone smelling of sponge cake mix is licking your face.
“It’s a shadow,” whispers Elsa.
“I know,” whispers Mum.
“Do you?”
“Your grandmother tried to tell me the stories, darling. About the Land-of-Almost-Awake and the shadows.”
“And Miamas?” asks Elsa.
Mum shakes her head.
“No. I know you had things there that she never showed me. And it was long ago. I was about as old as you are now. The Land-of-Almost-Awake was very small then. The kingdoms didn’t have names yet.”