Work Text:
General Mattias stood at a corner near the market square by the harbor in Arendelle, deep in thought, when Olaf walked by.
“Good morning, General!” Olaf greeted him cheerfully, startling him out of his reverie.
“Good morning, Olaf,” he replied.
“What are you looking at?” Olaf asked.
“This hole in the wall,” Mattias began, “When I was younger, this was a shoe repair shop.”
Olaf stared at the spot. It was boarded over, but didn’t look much bigger than what he could fit into.
“How could you fit a shop in there?” Olaf asked.
“Well, the space goes down a few more feet, and old Mr. Henriksen would stand in there, with his tools out on the pavement, and people would come to him with their old shoes and he’d fix them.”
Olaf stood thoughtfully looking at the spot. Mattias sighed.
“It’s funny,” Olaf said after a few minutes. “The shoe shop on the other side of the market square is also owned by a Mr. Henriksen.”
“Really?” Mattias asked. “I’ve never seen the place.”
“Would you like me to take you there?” Olaf asked.
“Of course!” Mattias said.
Olaf set off immediately, and Mattias followed him through the market day crowds in the square, frequently having to excuse himself as Olaf was ducking under and between people taking care of their shopping.
On a side street off of the main square, Mattias noticed a shop with the name Henriksen on a sign over the front. It wasn’t a particularly large shop, but was larger than the repurposed basement window he knew from his youth.
“Hey, Mr. Henriksen!” Olaf called out, opening the shop door.
A man in his forties or fifties was standing in the doorway when Mattias caught up.
“Hello, General,” the man said. “Olaf here thinks you might know me?”
“Probably not you personally,” Mattias admitted. “But are you related to Mr. Henriksen who used to run the tiny shoe repair shop on the other side of the square?”
Mr. Henriksen’s face brightened. “That was my grandfather,” he said. “He moved out of that shop when I finished my apprenticeship, and we opened this place together. That was probably thirty years ago, though. He retired about ten years ago. Did you know him, then?”
“I’m sure he won’t remember me,” Mattias sighed.
“You’d be surprised,” the man said. “If you ever got a pair of shoes repaired, he’ll remember you.”
“I still have the last pair of boots he repaired for me,” Mattias said. “That was thirty-six years ago.”