[Things are better in Arendelle than they were. The chaos that followed Elsa's coronation has been cleared. Hans has been sent packing. Elsa has skated with Anna, and it's spring again.

She walks through the halls of her castle, making plans for the future -- and suddenly she's on a rocky precipice. The air around her has completely changed, and one look shows that the ground is far below.

After a few minutes of bewilderment, then of slowly peeking out around the rocks to look at the alien landscape around and beneath her, she concludes that she can use her magic to get herself out of the most immediate part of this predicament. It can be a slide or a ladder or just a series of steps, as long as she can make them go from up here down to there. It won't get her home, or explain why she isn't there, but it will be a first step towards answers and assistance, and if she runs into trouble, she can defend herself.

She raises her arm to make ice and then loft it, the introductory step that she's most used to --

and her arm won't raise above her waist. Rather, the effort of doing so is incredibly taxing, and distracting enough that she momentarily sets aside the idea of getting down. She shoots a perplexed glance at her arm, then tries again.

The result is the same. The arm doesn't hurt: it's just tired, as if she's never had the strength in it to raise it any higher. She makes the same attempt a few times, frowning, to no avail, then decides to focus on the magic again.

It's not dependent on her ability to use her arm, so the ice does form, but it doesn't quite go where she wants to -- in fact, as someone wanders up to the base of the rock formation she'll be stuck on until she finds a way down, a shaft of forming ice misses them, thudding into the dirt a few feet away.

Her impulse is to apologize, but then she realizes that it's like it was before her coronation: she has no idea how they'll take the knowledge that she can do magic, especially a kind of magic that could be dangerous. It also occurs to her that she may not be able to climb down on her own after all if she can't rely on her arms. So instead, she shouts down, in a thin voice,]

Hello! Is somebody there?

[She has no idea who they are or where she is or why it's happened to her: nothing about any of this is familiar. It's terrifying in a way that overwhelms the self-assurance that she's only recently rediscovered. As she waits for a response from the person below -- no, people, there are quite a few of them! -- she shudders, and a thin frost forms on the rocks around her.

Whether it thickens into shards or vanishes will depend largely on the response she gets. She can still protect herself if she has to, probably, but not as well as she would have been able to without this sudden weakness.]

[Elsa's blue eyes are wide, fully focused on her conversational partner.

Her hand would be curled under her chin, but she still can't raise her arms, so her hands stay at her sides. She needs help standing and sitting, but can rest against things without much trouble. Although it's a source of great frustration, she does her best to seem calm and cheerful. Her arms worked before... surely she'll recover her strength sooner or later?

But until then, she needs occasional help getting around. Feeding herself is also difficult, but it's feasible if she props her arms up on a surface in front of her... otherwise, she sometimes needs help with that, too. She can still use her magic, but not with as much facility as she's used to. At least it's turned out that there doesn't seem to be a very good reason to hide it.

In every conversation, along with cautious, gracious appreciation for any assistance she receives, she tries to learn more about the situation she's found herself in.]

So the ship was called the Moira... and it wasn't a sailing ship?