Hiya guys! As you can probably tell from the summary, this is actually a spin-off from my main work, Have Courage, Elsa.

"gun-cocking" "Angry accusations of self-promotion"

No shooting, no shooting! Please don't lynch me! I'm sorry I opted to write a different work than the actual chapter!

But if you're new, please check the main story out! "shamelessly self-promoting"

Anyway, the events of this one-shot takes place shortly after Chapter 7, and during Chapter 8, when Olaf scurried off to grab some hot cocoa for his friends.

Now, why did I write this one-shot? As I have explained to my beta-reader, FrozenRose1, I needed a break from writing.

So I wrote some more instead.

Chapter 9

The Snowman and the Servant

Tonight was probably one of Gerda's strangest and most surreal experiences, as servant to the Royal Family.

Granted, she was not new to such curious happenings; servitude to the Arendelle Monarchy had always been mired in intriguing adventures, and Gerda herself came from a long line of loyal attendants, dating back as far as her Great-Great Uncle Alfred. A tradition was born from that job; beginning with Alfred's succeeding son, at least one member from each generation of Gerda's family would be guaranteed to provide aid and advice to the highest order of the state.

A white snowman skipped besides her, breaking the attendant's train of thought. "That's why you'd rather live in this castle without a normal life?" he asked incredulously. "For a maid, you're pretty weird." Gerda could only sigh at Olaf's innocently blunt remark.

Admittedly, aspiring to work in the Palace doesn't sound too impressive at first; it certainly didn't when Gerda's mother explained the tradition to her then-preteen daughter. A servant, Royal or not, is still a servant, and is expected to maintain the massive castle in top form at one's own expense, as well as keep the Royal Family stable in mentality and health.

Such work is both back-breaking and nerve-wracking, and took its toll on Gerda. "See, uh... see this?" She motioned her hands around her sturdy and plump figure, a little embarrassed from displaying herself. "I have no time to worry about my appearance besides a formal attire. I can't even tighten my body shape, because the hard labor has given me muscles that will never fit into a corset, even after a thousand years, after I am no longer capable of breathing. And look at this." She lifted her head kerchief slightly to reveal a few grey strands hidden among the brown. "Soon enough, I guarantee my head will become whiter than Queen Elsa's!"

"I personally think you look wonderful, Gerda. But... if you don't like the way you look, why not choose another job?"

"I never said I was unhappy with the way I look, and... Well, I'm too old and too busy to ever find another life, I guess."

Gerda was not grieving, however; in fact, she actually counted her blessings. The maid tried her best to explain to Olaf the generosity of the Kings and Queens of Arendelle, whose portraits adorned a section of the Palace halls they were now walking through. As a Royal Attendant of Arendelle, Gerda told Olaf she had access to a permanent and lavish bedroom inside the grand Palace, a large payroll, good food, and free invitations to royal gatherings.

"Well..." the older woman shrugged. "Technically it's free; someone has to be there to clean up the inevitable and horrendous mess of cake and lutefisk after all, but a party is still a party."

"But... why couldn't you choose another job earlier?"

"For a talking snowman, you ask too many questions." Gerda tried to sound polite; she was not actively persuading Olaf to change the subject of this conversation, but it would relieve her to no end if he did.

"Oh..." The snowman, seemingly understanding, lowered his eyes, and considered his next choice of words. "So then... why didn't you choose another job earlier?"

He didn't change the topic at all. Gerda resisted the urge to tap her head against the wall and roll her eyes in exasperation. "You're no better than Princess Anna, always wanting to know the full story despite what others think." she huffed.

Although, for someone dragged out of bed at two hours after midnight, Gerda was in a surprisingly good humor. Perhaps because the snowman had this kind of effect around people, one of love and trust. He managed to capture quite a few hearts in the kingdom just being upbeat by offering hugs to random people. For example, Olaf unwittingly entered a tavern once; the little guy lifted some of the most depressed souls from their slouches and brooding moods, and even transformed that bar into a song and dance party. The rows of burly workers and ice harvesters dancing the can-can while belting sopranos became a popular anecdote. Gerda did not know how that was possible, but Olaf made it work.

The attendant looked up at ceiling thoughtfully, her thoughts tracing back to times long past. "I... um." Gerda's cheeks felt warm, as she was not used to revealing something this inimate to anyone, even if that person was a living, talking snowman. "I... I stayed for the two girls. For Anna and Elsa."

According to Gerda, the most important benefit of serving the Royalty of Arendelle was probably the rarest gift of all; a loving second family. Elsa and Anna's late parents, King Eirik and Queen Johanna of Arendelle, were barely any older than their newly hired servant at the time, but they had been especially gracious, sharing their blessed children with the entire castle staff. They were the closest thing Gerda had for in-laws. For their kids, the maid doted and practically raised the two sisters over the years, seeing them as the daughters she never could have hoped to bear.

When her precious second family fractured apart, with barely a glimmer of hope for repair, Gerda's heart was pierced with an icicle of doubt, one that pushed deeper each time she saw the dejected two girls grow further apart with every passing year.

When Queen Elsa ran away from her kingdom, her worst fears realized, Gerda had wept herself to sleep for two nights on end.

When the two Royal Sisters returned victoriously from the harbor, wrapping each other tightly with their arms as if thirteen long, dark, painful years had never occurred between them, Gerda wept for one night more.

So, when she had heard an obnoxious rapping on her bedroom door five minutes ago, the veteran maid's brief panic attack was perfectly justified.

Gerda had been enjoying a good rest at the time, with a dream involving an exciting adventure high up in the mountains, in a hot-air balloon that sailed to the farthest reaches of the known Earth. She was just about to use her fortified body to her advantage against roving sky pirates, but the incessant knocking yanked her into reality. Blearily, she stretched herself out of a yawn, and noted that the clock in her room said the time was well after two in the morning. The woman tilted her head at the hour hand in confusion. To awake to something this late must mean...

She held a hand to her mouth, her heartbeat suddenly doubling in pace. Oh no, can it be an emergency!?

Anything could have happened; thieves, a roaring fire, plague, an attack on the sisters, an invading kingdom, even marauding pirates!

The mental images brought upon by this thought only sent a new wave of fresh terror to the older maid. Hurriedly, she hopped out of bed and threw her sheets aside, not even bothering to change from her sleeping gown. She swung the door wide open, expecting someone like either Kai or Queen Elsa to be standing in front of her, ready to present the terrible news.

All she saw was the crocus-patterned wallpaper on the opposite side of the hallway. Gerda turned her head cautiously to the left side, seeing no one there.

She repeated the same motion, but this time to the right.

Again, her eyes did not come across anyone. She sighed, her eyelids sagging and shoulders in both relief and tiredness. "Either I'm hallucinating, or Princess Anna must have decided to play a prank on me," she muttered.

"Um, I don't think I see Princess Anna anywhere, but I am down here!"

Gerda ears twitched at the whimsical-sounding voice, and a single snowflake, shining like a lone star in the night, brushed against her nose, dancing as it flew further up into the air. Then another. And another. She slowly looked down, and identified the surprise source of winter.

She knew Olaf, Elsa's creation and friend from the North Mountain, for three weeks now, but it hardly got any easier for the older woman whenever he showed up. He has this odd talent of popping into a conversation unnoticed, like a ghost, until the very last minute. Who knows how many times had he sent people reeling with surprise simply by introducing himself? In fact, giving his victims a terrific shock seemed to amuse him, which does not help matters at all.

Gerda just barely refrained from kicking his head off for the thirteenth time since Queen Elsa's return, and patted herself lightly on the bosom to relax her overactive heart.

"Hiya Gerda!" The snowman chirped, raising his stick arms wide. The Head Servant was at a loss for words, and ten seconds passed by in awkward silence.

"Hello... Olaf." Gerda waved shyly him, and focused her view on both sides of the hall once more. She didn't see anyone attending the little creature. In normal circumstances, at least one of his friends should be hovering around.

While suppressing an incoming yawn, she asked, "Why did you come to wake me at this hour?"

"Oh! Um..." The snowman looked pensive, furrowing his brow. He crossed his stick limbs, rubbing his chin with one hand, and bowed his head to one side until it was almost parallel to the carpet floor. "Hm..."

And then the angling of his snowy cranium dipped even deeper...

"No no! Careful-" Gerda began, raising her hands out in front of her, in a futile attempt to catch him.

Alas, it was too late. The snowman's head came off from his body, his face seemingly moving in slow-motion. In less than a second, the white creature will make impact with the hard floor, splitting apart like an overripe fruit. What was once alive will be rendered to nothing but a pile of snow, one that will disappear into the carpeting rapidly, leaving just a single brightly orange carrot behind. The Queen and Princess will undoubtedly weep at the loss of their friend, with all of the blame lying directly at their veteran attendant's feet. They may bring all of their men and horses, but Olaf, Her Majesty's special and prized creation, cannot be fixed, and will cease to exist. Gerda shut her eyes and winced for the inevitable destruction...

...and Olaf's head hit the floor with a noncommittal thud.

The snowman, still very much alive, made no acknowledgement that his neck (space?) was detached; his headless body still rubbing at his absent chin.

Undaunted by the surprise separation, Olaf's prone face broke into gleeful grin. "Oh, oh! I know!" He lowered his voice, doing his best impression of a conspirator. Well, one with a head still attached, at least. "Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, and Helga are doing something reeaallly special and reeaallly important right now!" The head rolled forward quickly, then backwards, a lopsided version of Olaf trying to shift his vision left and right. "It's a secret though! I don't think I should tell you!"

"'Helga'?"

"Oh! Um... he's someone we trust!"

The headless body uncrossed its arms, and patted itself in the back, evidently a reward for its display of subtlety and tact.

Secrets, Gerda can handle. The Royal Castle was littered with them, and only one was finally lifted after the Eternal Winter. What more can a new addition do?

Still though, who on Earth would name their son 'Helga'?

"Really?" Gerda said, using her years of discipline to fight back yet another yawn. "So why did you call me out of my bedroom?"

The snowman pulled his face into a sad, genuine frown, a rare expression for someone so happy-go-lucky. "I don't really know where the kitchen is." he explained. "I told everyone I was going to get them warm milk and cocoa, but I have not a single clue where to find them!" Olaf's body groped for its fallen head, lifting and replacing it with ease. He danced a small jig to present his newly repaired self. "So, I'm asking you! You are the head waitress, right?"

"Maid," corrected Gerda.

Figures, the servant thought to herself. While Olaf had lived in the Arendelle Palace for three weeks now, his personalized winter atmosphere had its limits. Among other places a snowman ought not to be standing inside, including, say... a castle, the kitchen room would probably be listed as one of the worst. How could a snowman survive in a place filled with hot food, open flames, and rambunctious, rude, hustling cooks?

But... if this little snowman is performing a deed for the Royal Sisters, at least Gerda, the Royal Family's most trusted maid for two generations, should fulfill her duty. She retreated back inside her bedroom to grab her head kerchief, telling the snowman to wait for her.

As she was tying a knot around her round cheeks and chin, she glanced at the undone bed standing forlorn in the moonlight. Her posture drooped in irritation at the mere sight of the chaos; a single wrinkle, a shallow valley that spanned across the mattress.

With a sigh, she violently yanked all of her blankets from the cot, vigilantly remaking and stretching each sheet until they were flat as wooden boards once more.

She nodded approvingly at her work, and gestured at the snowman. "Come," Gerda said, "I'll take you there."

The Royal Kitchen of Arendelle was the pride of the Palace, if Gerda could say so herself. Upon entering the grand doors, one could see the tiled walls that were hung with well-polished pots and pans that glowed and sparkled. Even in the relative darkness of the night, the kitchen was illuminated by metallic reflections alone.

In an effort to impress the snow-newcomer, Gerda cleared her throat, and spoke in her passionate tour-guide voice. "Thanks to fastidious cleaning and management, these kitchen wares have seen usage for years and years, and still remained as polished as the officially assigned weaponry of Corona."

She raised a hand at the wooden cabinets that spanned for an entire portion of the kitchen, adorned with brass handles. "In these drawers and shelves, thousands of silverware and plates are stacked and arranged, in enough numbers to suit the largest of parties, and beautifully crafted and decorated with floral designs to impress the haughtiest of guests."

The maid dragged the snowman, who was following her paces excitedly, to yet another part of the kitchen, a space occupied by sturdy and scarred tables. "Here is where half a dozen of chefs prepare meals, supplied with the finest tools and exotic spices."

Olaf pulled away from the attendant, who was now beaming with pride for the Royal Palace. "Hey Gerda, what's this thing?" The snowman inquiringly pointed at a bent, metal pipe fixed to a wall, situated above a relatively large porcelain tub.

"That would be another kitchen gem, the tap water system. It was built with a guarantee for fresh and sterile water for all days of the year."

What Gerda didn't say was that it was quite the trouble for Elsa's mother, Johanna, to set it up; she had to plan and make arrangements with contractors for the plumbing and space, all the while persuading her husband that a safe and local drinking source was more important than a centuries-old piece of wall.

The snowman waddled to the very center of the kitchen, now positively gaping in amazement as he faced what was probably the two Crown Jewels of the establishment.

Gerda smiled at the little creature, who's infectious enthusiasm was stirring and igniting the zeal within her. Such sensation was almost nostalgic; the maid could recall a time when she took two little children, to this very same room, giving them the same tour.

"Ah... you have a good eye, Olaf." She puffed her chest up in pride, sticking an arm out to the massive structure located at the center of a wall. "This a massive, state-of-the-art stove with an oven attached, both practical and artistic in design; its petal motifs and polished sections of wood and stone belie their effectiveness for efficient and varied cooking!

"And this," she frenziedly announced, pointing at a reinforced metal door. "This is the newest addition to the palace, enchanted with the powers of winter to remain in a permanent state of frost. It is a giant storeroom, filled to the brim with hundreds of ingredients from all corners of the world, each catalogued by Queen Elsa herself!"

Gerda, now completely lost in her own world, raised her hands in adulation. "No one can find a finer kitchen to prepare food in, not even in the very Country of Cuisine, France!"

The snowman, slightly taken aback, whistled long and low. Gerda could not, for her life, figure out how that was even possible.

"Um... " He sounded wary, almost frightened, at this suddenly unrestrained woman standing before him. "...That's very nice and all, including the over-sized icebox, but I was just admiring how high the ceiling seems to go up..."

"...Icebox?" In a flash of a second, the burning spirit and enthusiasm within Gerda died out. "...Ceiling?" Her entire plump figure drooped low, completely deflated. She spun a little melodramatically, and leaned a head against a tile wall, humiliated and sullen over the sudden dissonance between servant and snowman. "You got all excited over a ceiling..."

This was only the second time someone would rather pay attention to something so trivial, without heeding to the amazing wonders standing right in front of them.

The first person to do so became, of all people, Queen Elsa.

Oh, who was Gerda kidding anyway? She was trying to impress a snowman, for crying out loud.

The attendant could only shake her head in disbelief at herself, as she straightened up her back, and took a tinderbox from one of the cabinets. She struck a small fire in the stove, allowing the wood fuel inside to burn, slowly. "Olaf," the servant said, pulling her sleeves back in preparation. "Would you be kind and help me fetch the milk from the storage? They're all labeled."

The little snowman saluted, burying a stick hand deep into his brow unintentionally. It took him a couple of tugs with his other hand to pull it back out. "Absolutely, ma'am!"

Gerda walked over to a shelf, and plucked from within a tin of cocoa; unlike the well-hidden stash of Arendelle's finest chocolate candies, the spice was permitted to be kept in plain sight. Cocoa powder is actually very bitter, so there was no need to hide its location from two potential sneaks; they learned what was in the metal boxes the hard way just a week ago. Gerda gave the fine brown powder a gentle sniff. A powerful but warm, rich aroma filled her nose, until she could almost taste the heavenly smell, and she sighed with pleasure. She pulled out a giant sack of sugar, using her strong arms to heave it out, and took a cast-iron pot hanging from a peg, setting it onto the increasingly hot stove.

Somebody tapped her on the leg, and she reached downwards to receive a white jug from Olaf. She nodded at the snowman in approval, while pouring the contents into the warm pot. The resultant hiss from contact between the liquid and hot metal sent Olaf giggling, as he watched the little stove fire from a safe distance.

"Watching the firelight all night long...
warming up my nose as I'm singin' a song...
Da babbity doo-whop,
shoobity-doo-doo,
Beebop! Boop-a dee-whop!"

Gerda would like to ask exactly what on Earth sort of gibberish Olaf was chanting in; for all she knows, it could be some sort of demonic witchcraft or a curse casted behind her back.

Then again, he was bizarre enough without being made of snow. The maid held her tongue and refrained from raising more oddities than her graying head could manage.

"Anything else?" Olaf piped.

Gerda's memories rewinded back a few hours, when she saw the number of giant boxes poor Captain Arvid and Kai had to lug into the kitchen. The two men had panted and sweated as they desperately prevented each package from falling over and spoiling the contents inside, sometimes sticking their feet out to catch an errant defector.

"I think a midnight snack would serve them well. Goodness knows the Royal Family should put on a bit of weight, they look so thin and frail at times!"

Olaf lifted his head in delight. "Oh, I've never thought of that! That's a wonderful, fantastic idea!"

"Why don't you check the ice room? Just... leave the door open, so I can tell you! I'm sure the boys have placed it on that left shelf right next to the door- yes, there we go! Now, don't you drop it!"

Olaf waddled back to Gerda with a box, struggling valiantly to make sure it didn't fall over.

"Just put it on the table over there, I'll cut it later." She grinned at the small creature, and hugged it appreciatively. "You have been an incredible help, dear."

The snowman, glowing with happiness and pride, walked out of sight, but his childish voice remained as present as ever. "What a nice cake," he commented, "saying "Congratulations For the New Baby" and all. It doesn't look like it want warm hugs too badly like you and I do, though."

Gerda fought back a titter at the subject title, and the recent memory associated with it.

"I didn't know what possessed the Queen today, but she started buying out the entire bakery, regardless of what they said on them! You should have seen the look on the shopkeeper's face, I thought he was going to collapse in astonishment!" the Royal Guard Captain chuckled.

"...That explains the "Get Better Soon" title on a few of them." Gerda replied. "I thought somebody recently came down with a malady."

"Let me tell you, hauling all of the parcels here has been absolute murder on my arms! I don't know if I can even swing a sword properly anymore, Gerda."

"Didn't she offer to help and carry some of them, Captain?"

"Yes, but a Queen shouldn't-" the Captain protested.

"Then you only have your stubbornness to blame."

"Hey," Olaf shouted from the sidelines, once again butting into Gerda's flashback, "is it true that you were there when Elsa and Anna were born? Did you get to hold them as a baby?"

"Why yes, little one..." The words rolled pleasantly and nostalgically in Gerda's tongue, an affectionate word she had not spoken in years. "I was right next to the midwife both times, wiping Queen Johanna's sweat away while she was giving birth." Gerda raised her hands and held them slightly apart, so that they were only the length of her feet. "They were only this big when they were first introduced into the world..."

It's been twenty-one years ago, but Gerda could still recall those days as clearly as she could see the back of her hand. Elsa and Anna, once small enough to fit into large shoes, tiny and defenseless enough that they required protection, and to be cooed at every given opportunity, developed at a blinding pace. In just a few years, they were strong enough to cause a ruckus in the castle, knocking over set pieces of armor and breaking furniture as they played in enchanted snow, often with the servants.

Then, their childhood was immediately snuffed out thirteen years ago, before Elsa and Anna could even reach adolescence.

in the blink of an eye, before anyone, especially themselves, could fully appreciate their time as young children, the Princesses turned into women, stunning and strong, and just a little sad.

As she left her station to investigate the baked goods, a glistening chocolate cake as plump and round as Gerda was wide, she fought back a couple of tears, and sniffled. "Hard to believe that they would grow up so fast..."

The snowman inhaled loudly with excitement. Gerda heard the scraping of a stool, and his voice still trailed from somewhere. "Then, did Elsa still had her winter powers?"

"Oh my, yes!" Gerda laughed, still teary-eyed. "It was quite a shock when she fir-"

"But how did you know it was her?" Olaf interrupted. "And when you found out, how did you know Anna couldn't do the magic?"

"Olaf, I-"

"How were you able to deal with it?" the snowman yammered on. "Did Elsa and Anna make lots and lots of snowmen before me? Did Elsa ever play pranks? Oh, I just know she would have. I've met plenty of kids, even the shy and quiet ones like Elsa, who would still love a good prank!" He tilted his head in curiosity. "Mostly, they did it on me, kicking my head off and tossing it around while Anna tried to stop them... You know, I don't think children make very good listeners. And then-"

"Slow down there, dear!" Gerda protested. "You can be too much like Princess Anna sometimes! You should at least know when to breathe!"

"Great!... But, exactly how do I breathe-"

"splash"

Gerda whipped her head around, and saw a little figure standing in front of the boiling pot of milk. "Little one!" she cried. She rushed through, knocking over a couple of stools in the process, and snatched Olaf away before he could melt any faster from the fire. Her heart was pumping in overtime, hammering against her ears as the adrenaline rush threatened to knock her out. "What were you doing!? You could have gotten yourself burnt or killed!"

"Ah can' really 'heel nah 'hace." The snowman murmured. He slowly pointed at the steaming pot above the stove fire.

Gerda peeked into the pot of boiling milk, and didn't know whether to choke back in horror or grim amusement. A lump of snow floated on top like an island, nearly invisible against the white liquid, that quickly dissolved until it disappeared. Gerda looked back at the snowman, and noticed that a certain part of his face was missing.

"I' 'ust sthnelled 'tho good..." Olaf mumbled dejectedly.

The snowman had evidently been trying to get a whiff of the pleasant scent of warm milk, which is perfectly acceptable, if he wasn't made of a material that melted so easily. He was also allured by the gentle heat, not realizing that the fire and steam was indeed hot enough to melt him, until plop, he lost half his face.

Upon closer inspection of Olaf's face, the missing pile of snow, now evenly mixed in the boiling milk, was... erm.

Well, it was Olaf's lower jaw.

Because his bottom lip is now gone, Olaf found it incredibly difficult to speak, even lamely. His new appearance gave him a peculiar look; it was as if someone decided to build a small snowman, but eschewed the traditional head in a fit of artistic madness, opting to instead stick a crudely sculpted bird on top, with a bucktooth attached to the end of the beak for good measure.

Gerda scratched the back of her neck, baffled by the event that had just occurred. "I don't really know how to fix snow sculptures," she said, perhaps a bit ruefully. True, she does serve a Lady of Ice and Snow, but it had never occurred for years to the maid to practice in first-aid for snowmen.

So, instead of trying to fix Olaf, and inevitably worsen the situation with more chaos, Gerda remained where her training lied, her safe zone; she brought her attention to the cake, then to the stove. The attendant grabbed a spoon to dip into the steaming liquid, and tasted it to test the milk's temperature. "Olaf," she said gently, seeing no need to admonish his behavior. "Why don't you go grab some more sugar from the bag? We'll find Queen Elsa after we're done, and have you fixed right back up."

The oblong, bucktoothed bird-head cheered and skipped away. "O'hay!"

Gerda smiled at Olaf's unabashed optimism, and added some of the cocoa powder to the pot. She's not going to waste some perfectly good milk, after all.

Now... she wondered. Is it better to say nothing, or tell the Royal Family Olaf's mouth had been in there?

I was intending to put this in the full story proper, but I had two people, FrozenRose1 included, suggest that I separate my drabbles. Wish granted!

Kinda...

I eventually put it in Have Courage, Elsa. Sorry guys...

Oddly enough, this was supposed to be just one section for the newest Have Courage, Elsa chapter, dedicated to Olaf's little misadventure as a bit of comic relief because...

...Look, let's just say Chapter 10 is gonna get pretty dark. No gore, no gore! I think it's within Disney Animated Canon limits. It's just... heavy. Especially for me.

The recent onslaught of my followed story updates were pretty depressing as well, which did little to improve my mood.

Instead, I tried lightening myself up by purposefully expanded that brief scene between Olaf and Gerda, before I have to dive back into the meat and potatoes.

Gerda was actually supposed to be Kai, but I realized the poor gal did not get a lot of mentions in other fanfics. She's practically a blank canvas just waiting to be painted on. So, I experimented, but got slightly carried away.

I apologize, but the actual chapter for Have Courage, Elsa will probably come much, much later. I can guarantee that the thing will be 12k+ words, at least.

Got a long road ahead of me.

See you guys soon, fans of Frozen.