Disclaimer: All of the characters used belong to Disney or 20th Century Fox. Some of the dialogue and lyrics from the movie have also been adapted. The work is written for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit

A/N: So, welcome to my self-indulgence. I am a sucker for musicals, always have been, and the Sound of Music has been an inexplicable favorite of mine since childhood. This idea came to me when I remembered that the Baroness Schrader had the first name of Elsa and yeah, off went my imagination. I hope you like it as much as I am going to enjoy writing it.

A/N, part II: I was given permission by the awesome Tania Hylian to use the art she created for this story, and I can't thank her enough. It's my first story with a cover!

Chapter 1- Anna-Maria

The beautiful landscape of Arendelle and the bright sunny day beckoned, and before she knew it, the postulant Anna-Maria was slipping through the open gates of the abbey and escaping to the hills. Taking off her wimple, she wandered through the forest that surrounded the abbey, crossing brooks and climbing the North Mountain until she stood at its very peak. The vivid sunshine and the gorgeous landscape inspired her, and she began to sing an old song about the hills and the music that could be found within them. She wasn't allowed to sing outside of the chapel when she was in the abbey, and she missed it, so now that she was alone, she was going to seize the opportunity.

The song continued as Anna-Maria continued to explore, relishing her time outdoors after so many days of being behind the abbey walls. She loved the Maker, the abbey and the sisters, she truly did; after all, she had chosen to give up her freedom for the pursuit of religious fulfillment. But, her free-spiritedness often rebelled, and she felt the need to escape the life she had chosen to simply be free. Anna-Maria took a deep breath and sang the last notes of the song with gusto. She, if only for the moment, was free, out here in the wilds of Arendelle.

The peak that Anna-Maria was standing on gave her a breathtaking view of the town of Arendelle below. The spires of churches rose up, many different denominations that ultimately professed the same faith. Amongst the places of worship, there were also the neat and tidy row houses of the city's prosperous merchant and labor classes. Farther out, towards the river, there were the magnificent mansions of the city's nobility, barons, dukes and earls among them. In the center of town, the domes and fountains of the city's administration buildings stood, reminding all that Arendelle was an orderly jewel in the crown of the province. In the same area, art museums and concert halls, the legacy of the city's world-famous artists and composers, gleamed with gold filigree and white marble. Anna-Maria took it all in, sighing in happiness as the breeze rose and caressed her face.

The breeze brought something else though; the distant clang of the abbey's bells sounded on its swirling air. It took Anna-Maria a second to comprehend what she was hearing, but when she did, she snapped out of her reverie at once and took off running for the abbey. She had only gotten a few steps away when after feeling her head, she realized she no longer had her wimple. She looked around frantically for it and finally spotted it. Anna-Maria ran back, snatched it off the ground and bolted for the abbey as fast as she could go.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The litany for morning prayers sounded and sisters of all ages and ranks began to file through the abbey on their way to the chapel. One by one, they knelt as they came into the consecrated place, paying homage to the altar at the front of the church. At the front of the church knelt the three most powerful women of the abbey, the Reverend Mother, the Mistress of Postulants and the Mistress of Novitiates. Strains of ceremonially-sung Arendellian prayers wafted through the scared space until at last the Reverend Mother rose. She blessed the congregation with the sign of the Maker, and once the blessing had been received, the choir sang the joyful benediction that signaled the end of the morning worship.

As silently as they had filed in, the sisters filed out of the chapel, until only the Reverend Mother and the two Mistresses remained. They too left the church, and as they were walking in the courtyard, one of the other sisters came rushing up to them.

"Sister Bernice?" Mother Gerda questioned, alarmed at the slight panic on the other sister's face.

"I simply cannot find her," Sister Bernice said breathlessly.

"Anna-Maria?" Mother Gerda guessed with just a hint of exasperation, and Sister Bernice nodded.

"She's missing from the abbey again," she confirmed.

"Perhaps we should've put a cow bell around her neck," Sister Bertha, the Mistress of Novitiates, snarked, and even Mother Gerda had to suppress a chuckle.

Sister Marguerite, the Mistress of Postulants and overall kind soul, ignored the remark and tried to help the situation. "Have you tried the barn?" she asked. "You know how much she adores the animals."

"I have looked everywhere," Sister Bernice insisted. "In all of the usual places."

The Reverend Mother smiled, a gentle, yet wry smile. "Sister Bernice, considering that it's Anna-Maria, I suggest you look in someplace…unusual," she advised. The other sister blinked as a look of bemusement overcame her face, but she bowed to Mother Gerda and exited.

"Well, Reverend Mother, I hope this latest infraction ends whatever doubts you may still have about Anna-Maria's future here," Sister Bertha said caustically. The elder nun had been one of Anna-Maria's biggest detractors from practically the moment the young woman had got here, and now that Anna-Maria was making the potential leap from postulant to novitiate, she was being especially ruthless. Sister Bertha had nothing personal against the young nun-to-be; however, she firmly believed that Anna-Maria did not belong at the abbey, and she, for the love of the Maker, firmly did not want to have Anna-Maria as part of her novitiate class.

"I always try to keep faith in my doubts, Sister Bertha," Mother Gerda responded evenly as the three of them crossed the courtyard.

"After all, the wool of a black sheep is just as warm," Sister Marguerite pointed out. She, too, had her doubts about Anna-Maria's potential for success at the abbey, but as Mistress of the Postulants, she had grown much closer to Anna-Maria than Sister Bertha had, and she knew that the young woman had a good heart and was truly there for the right reasons, even if her behavior didn't always show it.

"We are not talking about sheep, black or white, Sister Marguerite!" Sister Bertha snapped. "Of all of the candidates for the novitiate, I would say that Anna-Maria is least likely…"

"Children! Children!" Mother Gerda interrupted scoldingly before addressing a group of three senior nuns that stood on the other side of the courtyard. "We were speculating about the qualifications of some our postulants," she explained. "The Mistress of Novices and the Mistress of Postulants were trying to help me by expressing opposite points of view. Tell me, Sister Catherine, what do you think of Anna-Maria?"

"She's a wonderful girl!" the bespectacled nun said enthusiastically, before she thought it through. "Some of the time," she added.

"Sister Agatha?" Mother Gerda prompted, turning to another sister.

"It's very easy to like Anna-Maria," Sister Agatha replied. "Except when it's, um, difficult."

Mother Gerda turned to the last sister, Sister Sophia, the Mistress of the Choir and the finest singer in the abbey. Anna-Maria had wanted to join the choir, and she had the voice for it, but her undisciplined ways had brought a premature end to her music studies. "And you, Sister Sophia?" the Reverend Mother questioned.

"Oh, I love her very dearly," the Choir Mistress said truthfully. "But she always seems to be in trouble, doesn't she?" she finished regretfully.

"Exactly what I say," Sister Bertha said triumphantly. "For the love of the Maker, she climbs a tree and scrapes her knee like a four-year old at every opportunity, and she tears her dress when she does so."

"She also tends to dance the waltz on her way to Mass and she whistles on the stairs," Sister Sophia added reluctantly.

"I've even heard her singing in the abbey," Sister Catherine mentioned, which drew tsks and eyerolls from all of the nuns assembled, even the sympathetic Mother Gerda and Sister Marguerite.

"She always late for chapel…" Sister Agatha began.

"…but her penitence is real," Sister Sophia finished.

"She's always late for everything," Sister Bertha sniffed.

"Except for every meal," Sister Catherine muttered as an aside, and the remark drew knowing smirks and snickers from the rest of the sisters.

"I hate to have to say it, but I very firmly feel that Anna-Maria is not an asset to the abbey," Sister Bertha declared, and Sister Sophia, Sister Catherine and Sister Agatha nodded their heads in agreement.

"I'd like to say a word on her behalf," Sister Marguerite interjected.

"Then say it, Sister Marguerite," Mother Gerda encouraged.

"Anna-Maria makes me…laugh," Sister Marguerite stated with just a bit of a giggle, and the other sisters not named Gerda and Bertha joined in.

Shaking her head, Mother Gerda asked the question that had been plaguing them. "How to you solve a problem like Anna-Maria?" she asked, with a frustrated yet wistful tone. "How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?"

"How do you find a word that means Anna-Maria?" Sister Marguerite asked.

"A flibbertigibbet," Sister Agatha and Sister Catherine said at the same time, much to their own surprise.

"A will-o-the-wisp," Sister Sophia offered.

"A clown," Sister Bertha sniffed.

"There are so many things we need to tell her, so many things she ought to understand," the Reverend Mother sighed.

"But how do you make her stay to listen to all you say?" Sister Bertha asked in frustration.

"The same way you keep a wave upon the sand," Sister Gerda answered with sanguine wisdom. "Or perhaps the same way you hold a moonbeam in your hand."

The sisters debated back and forth amongst themselves for a few minutes, and words like "unpredictable", "flighty", "darling, "demon," "lamb," "pest", "riddle," "headache," and "angel" were tossed about. Finally, Mother Gerda put an end to the discussion with a single declaration. "She's a girl, my children; she has a lot of growing up to do." The sisters nodded, and Mother Gerda sighed. "But we still haven't answer our initial inquiry. What do we do with…" she started, and stopped when a door slammed and frantic footsteps sounded just outside the courtyard.

Anna-Maria sprinted into the courtyard and made for the water pump, completely oblivious to the group of high-ranking sisters who were watching her with various degrees of amusement, annoyance and disapproval. She pumped the handle until the water flowed, catching some of the water stream to wash her hands and face. She took off running again, but as she did so, the group of sisters finally caught her eye and she stuttered to a halt in front of them. Anna-Maria glanced at them, her cheeks reddening, before she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and left, quietly chastising herself as she went.

"Anna-Maria," Mother Gerda finished, and the sisters watched her go with affectionate annoyance.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anna-Maria paced nervously outside the Reverend Mother's office before coming to a standstill outside of her door. Anna-Maria shifted her hands a bit and then turned as Sister Marguerite emerged from the room. "You may go in now, Anna-Maria," she said, with a gentle, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Anna-Maria managed a weak smile of thanks before she hesitantly walked into Mother Gerda's office.

Upon seeing her, the Reverend Mother put down the correspondence she had been reading. "Come here, my child," she requested, and after a moment's nervous pause, Anna-Maria did so, kissing Mother Gerda's hand as was the custom. After she was finished, Mother Gerda indicated the chair. "Now sit down," she ordered in an even tone.

Anna-Maria started sputtering apologies even as she went to her chair. "Oh, oh, Reverend Mother, I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I just couldn't help myself. The gates were open and the hills were beckoning, and before I…"

"Anna-Maria," Mother Gerda interrupted, "I haven't summoned you here for apologies."

"But I should still ask for forgiveness," Anna-Maria protested.

"Well, if it would make you feel better," Mother Gerda said, with understanding.

"It would," Anna-Maria confirmed. "You see the sky was so blue today, and everything was so green and fragrant I just had to be a part of it."

"But child, suppose darkness had come and you were lost?" the Reverend Mother chastised.

"Oh, Mother, I could never be lost out there," Anna said earnestly. "That's my mountain; I was brought up on it. It was the mountain that led me to you."

"Oh?" Mother Gerda said interestedly, not having heard this bit of Anna-Maria's story before.

"When I was a child, I would come down the mountain and climb a tree and peer over into your garden," Anna-Maria explained. "I would see the sisters at work and I would hear them sing on their way to vespers." Anna-Maria took a breath and looked down into her hands. "Which…brings me to another transgression, Reverend Mother," she confessed. "I was singing out there on the mountain today without permission."

Mother Gerda shifted in her chair and tried her best not to let the wry grin take over her face. It was true the abbey had rules about postulants being forbidden to sing, but the seriousness of Anna-Maria's tone indicated a far more serious offense. "Anna-Maria, it is only here in the abbey that we have rules about postulants singing," she reminded the nervous young woman.

"But I can't seem to stop singing wherever I am!" Anna-Maria said worriedly. "And what's worse, I can't seem to stop saying things, everything and anything I think and feel."

"Some people would call that honesty," Mother Gerda pointed out.

"Oh, but it's terrible, Reverend Mother," Anna-Maria insisted. "You know how Sister Bertha makes me kiss the floor after we've had a disagreement?" The Reverend Mother nodded. "Well, lately I've taken to kissing the floor when I see her coming, just to save time!" Anna-Maria wailed.

Mother Gerda sighed. "Anna-Maria," she began, and Anna-Maria braced herself for the worst. "When you saw us over the abbey wall and longed to be one of us, that didn't necessarily mean that you were prepared for the way we live here, did it?" she asked gently.

Anna-Maria shook her head. "No, Mother, but I pray and I try. And I am learning, I really am!" she insisted hopefully.

"What is the most important lesson that you have learned here, my child?" Mother Gerda asked.

"To find out what is the will of the Maker and to do it wholeheartedly," Anna-Maria answered promptly.

Mother Gerda sighed again and rose from her desk. "Anna-Maria, it seems to be the will of the Maker that you leave us," she said simply.

"Leave?!" Anna-Maria parroted, alarmed.

"Only for a while, Anna-Maria," Mother Gerda assured her.

"Oh, Mother, please don't do that. Please don't send me away," Anna-Maria pleaded. "This is where I belong; it's my home, my family. It's my life," she finished in a softer tone.

"Are you truly ready for it?" the Reverend Mother asked, looking at Anna-Maria critically.

"Yes, I am," Anna-Maria said firmly.

"Perhaps if you go out into the world for a time, knowing what we expect of you, you will have a chance to find out if you can expect it of yourself," Mother Gerda hypothesized.

"I know what you expect, Mother, and I can do it, I promise I can," Anna-Maria said beseechingly.

"Anna-Maria," Mother Gerda said simply, and Anna-Maria settled down, knowing that the Reverend Mother's mind was made up.

"Yes, Mother," she answered, returning to her chair. "If it is the Maker's will."

"There is a family near Arendelle that has need of a governess until September…" Mother Gerda said, reading from the letter on her desk.

"Until September?" Anna-Maria echoed.

"…to take care of seven children," Mother Gerda continued.

"Seven children!" Anna-Maria exclaimed.

"You like children, Anna-Maria," the Reverend Mother reminded her.

"Well, yes, but seven!" Anna-Maria emphasized, her face contracting into a grimace.

The Reverend Mother politely ignored her. "I will tell Captain Von Trapp to expect you tomorrow," she stated.

"Captain?" Anna-Maria questioned.

"A retired officer of Her Majesty's navy, a fine woman and a brave one," Mother Gerda replied. "Her husband died several years ago leaving her alone with the children. I understand she's had a most difficult time keeping a governess there."

Anna-Maria paused at that. This whole situation was not to her liking and now Mother Gerda had given her even more bad news. "Uh, why difficult, Reverend Mother?" Anna-Maria asked as carefully as she could.

"The Maker will show you in Her own good time," Mother Gerda replied with a hint of a smile, and Anna-Maria sighed.