"Very well," Elsa said with a reluctant nod.
"I shall endeavor to blend in with your commoners. Though it goes against my very nature to pretend I am not superior in every way."
I demonstrated how to ask for things politely, and Elsa practiced with such exaggerated formality that I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or genuinely trying.
"Would you be so graciously inclined, if it pleases you greatly, to pass the salt, good sir?" she asked with an elaborate curtsy that would have looked more appropriate in Queen Victoria’s court.
I sighed.
"Maybe a little less... like that. But it’s a start."
After a quick use of the bathroom, after which Elsa asked many questions about indoor plumbing, we were finally ready to leave.
I led her out to where my truck was parked.
Elsa circled the vehicle suspiciously, poking the tires with her finger like they might bite her and peering through the windows with her nose pressed against the glass.
"Is it alive?" she asked, jumping back when I unlocked it with my key fob, causing the lights to flash.
"No, it’s a machine," I explained.
"Much more impressive than my royal carriages," Elsa declared while still eyeing it with a mix of suspicion and fascination.
"Though less ornate. Where are the gold filigrees and gem-encrusted handles?"
"Not really a thing on pickup trucks," I said, opening the passenger door for her.
Elsa stood looking up at the seat, which was clearly too high for her to climb into easily.
Without asking, I put my hands on her waist and lifted her up.
She weighed practically nothing to my enhanced strength, and I found myself momentarily surprised at the narrowness of her waist in my large hands.
My fingers practically went all the way around.
"Thank you," she said, sounding genuinely appreciative as she settled into the seat.
"Most considerate of you, Sir Grey Coleman."
I closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel.
After a series of eeps and shocked gasps at the various sounds my vehicle made when starting up, she settled down.
The drive to town started with Elsa discovering every feature of the truck’s interior like she was on a scavenger hunt.
She pressed all the buttons, adjusted the air vents in every possible direction, and nearly jumped out of her skin when I turned on the radio.
"Music from nowhere!" she exclaimed with eyes wide enough to match those weird toy dolls from the ’90s.
"How magnificent!"
"It’s coming from speakers—those little grates there," I explained, pointing them out.
"The sound is transmitted through radio waves—um, invisible energy that carries the music through the air."
Elsa nodded as if this made perfect sense, though I was sure she had no idea what I was talking about.
As we pulled out onto the main road, Elsa clutched the dashboard dramatically.
Her knuckles turned white.
"By the Silver-Bark Tree! Such speed!"
I glanced at the speedometer.
"We’re still way under the speed limit."
"I knew that," Elsa interrupted, straightening in her seat, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I was merely... testing your reaction."
The road to town was a straight shot through cornfields and farmland, the kind of monotonous scenery that makes you question your life choices when you drive through it often enough.
After about ten minutes, I pointed ahead to a collection of buildings on the horizon.
"That’s Millfield up ahead. It’s a small town, but they should have everything we need."
Elsa suddenly looked nervous as she fidgeted with the hem of her oversized shirt.
"Will they detect that I’m not human? I’ve heard some mortals have surprising powers of perception."
"No one’s going to think you’re an elf," I assured her.
"At worst, they’ll think you’re ’from out of town,’ which is technically true. Just try not to mention your royal lineage or other dimensions, and you’ll be fine."
"I shall practice looking completely normal and not at all like royalty from another dimension," Elsa declared, arranging her face into what she clearly thought was a normal expression but which looked more like someone fighting back the urge to sneeze while trying to smile.
As we approached the town limits, Elsa grew quieter with her anxiety showing in the way she chewed on her lower lip.
Without warning, she reached over and grabbed my hand where it rested on the gear shift.
Her small hand felt warm against mine, and I was surprised by how natural the gesture felt.
"It will be fine," I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before returning mine to the steering wheel.
"Just follow my lead."
Millfield’s main street was exactly what you’d expect from a small Midwestern town—a few blocks of brick storefronts, angle parking, and American flags hanging from lampposts, and that’s about it.
We drove past the post office, a hardware store, a small grocery, and the town’s only restaurant, Dot’s Diner.
Elsa pressed her face against the window like an excited child on their first road trip, pointing at everything.
"What are those magnificent light orbs?" she asked, indicating a traffic light.
"Traffic signals," I explained.
"They tell drivers when to stop and when to go."
"And those flat gray paths alongside the road?"
"Sidewalks. For walking. On the side of the road."
"Fascinating!" she exclaimed.
"Your realm has such clever conveniences!"
As we cruised slowly down Main Street, I noticed several townspeople noticing us.
Mrs. Peterson from the post office waved at me cautiously.
The elderly men who perpetually occupied the bench outside the barber shop paused their conversation to stare.
I waved awkwardly, suddenly aware of how odd we must look—me, the reclusive lawsuit winner who never brought anyone to town, with a tiny woman wearing oversized men’s clothes and my baseball cap.
"Why are they all staring?" Elsa whispered as she shrank back from the window.
"Small town," I explained.
"Everyone knows everyone, and they all notice newcomers. Plus, I don’t usually bring people with me, but I’m too terrified to drive you two hours to a bigger place."
"Am I the first female you’ve brought to your village?" Elsa asked with a weirdly suspicious hiss in her voice.
"You’d better say yes."
"Kind of," I admitted.
"I usually bring them back to my place rather than take them here."
The silence immediately following that felt somehow violent.
We parked outside Mae’s Boutique, the town’s only clothing store.
As before, I had to help Elsa out of the truck, my hands easily spanning her waist again as I lifted her down.
"Thank you," she said while straightening her cap carefully.
She took a deep breath, squaring her tiny shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle.
"I am prepared to encounter your human shopkeepers."
The bell above the door jingled as we entered.
Mae’s Boutique was a small but well-stocked store with clothing for men, women, and children.
Mae Wilson, the elderly proprietor, looked up from the counter and did a double-take when she saw me.
"Well now, Grey Coleman!" she exclaimed, coming around the counter with the speed of someone half her age.
"I never thought I’d see the day you’d bring a lady friend to town!"
I felt myself blushing.
"She’s not my—I mean, we’re not—"
"I am his new roommate," Elsa interjected, beaming smugly at being called my "lady friend," probably relishing how annoyed it made me.
Mae’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.
"Roommate? Well, isn’t that modern." She turned to Elsa with a warm smile that didn’t do much to hide her curiosity.
"And what’s your name, dear?"
"I am Pri—" Elsa caught herself with her eyes widening slightly.
"I am Elsa."