#and kanjigar is only noted as the trainer of trollhunters because he's the one trollhunter to have experience with trollhunting i suppose

[whatudottu]

If I thought the Transformers (Aligned) timeline was convoluted, god the Trollhunters timeline is fucked beyond all hell, and worse of all because they use Merlin - bloody MERLIN - as a character that created the amulet there's an upper limit of time Trollhunters have existed before, heck even Myrddin Wyllt his welsh name (and canonical alternate name in the show), Merlin stops being the Merlin from human myth and starts becoming Merlin a similarly named folkloric character in troll myth-

I wonder if I, a fan coming in at minimum 2023, am arriving to this a little late but- if this isn't going to be a timeline rewrite then let me complain about how specific canonical details contradict with one another, including the glaringly obvious issue of Wizard's addition to the timeline, making Deya the Deliverer the first Trollhunter and thus practically erasing most of the historical Trollhunters or conforming to fit them all in a timeline of 900ish years.

I'll address the elephant in the room when we get to it, but let's set up the basics, both for me and any viewer not already in the know (given that my audience is mostly from transformers and ben 10, I'd say it's a lot of you).

Trolls and humans got off to a bad start, humans living on the surface and trolls having originated from a realm called the Darklands, accessible from a bridge (a gateway) Kilahead bridge. Like with any civilisation there are good and bad trolls, the baddest being Orlagk the Oppressor, leader of the Gumm-Gumms. Having been introduced to the surface, trolls fought with the humans who already lived on it creating the War for the Surface Lands, and their fighting lead the first Heartstone (a gigantic magical gem that serves as the centre of troll caverns, healing them and providing power) to corrupt and birth Gunmar. This war lasted for millennia, Gunmar taking over leadership of the Gumm-Gumms after slaying Orlagk at some vague point, up until the Battle of Kilahead Bridge where the Gumm-Gumms were sealed away in the Darklands again thanks to the Trollhunter Deya the Deliverer.

Okay, sure, that doesn't sound very bad at first, up until you realise that the Battle of Kilahead Bridge was 900 years prior to the series (2016 was it's release date) and thus in the year 1116 AD give or take; the legend of Merlin as a magician, a wizard, was in the 12th century which would've been instead at minimum 1300 AD that's 200 years of difference. Not to mention Angor Rot - a character and antagonist in the show - came begging for magic to stop Gunmar's armies from destroying more and more independant troll tribes, like his own, in 1200 AD at least. Why in the fucking hell would Angor Rot bother to risk his own soul asking for magic, from a sorcerer known as (among many things) the Eldritch Queen, if Gunmar and his Gumm-Gumms were already kept within the Darklands. Gunmar's son Bular, the one Gumm-Gumm to not be banished, is surely not that much of a threat to not one but multiple villages it would send someone to the doorstep of the Pale Lady. In addition, Angor Rot was responsible for killing at least a few Trollhunters, one known and named being Voltar the Voracious, who was the only Trollhunter given an exact year of choosing in 1578. And the fucker is listed BEFORE Deya on the wiki but that alone doesn't mean anything, however she does die in 1620 to Bular, 396 years before the show.

Alright then, so you look at Merlin's mythological existence and go 'now what about the whole thing about millenia' because 12th century doesn't allow the War for the Surface Lands to have a Trollhunter, even with 11 named Trollhunters that come presumably before Deya (Unkar the Unfortunate, despite being trained by Blinky who in human standards - assuming his human body tells us his age - is probably about middle age give or take, fought in the time Gumm-Gumms were still around even if slain by Bular). Given that Trollhunters itself references Merlin's original Welsh name Myrddin (and his in show last name is Ambrosius, which would be Emyrs in the original Welsh, as opposed to Wyllt for 'of the wild), I thought that potentially looking into when Myrddin first came around I would be able to get a better timeline; Myrddin Wyllt was said to have been born - and not just the legend - in 540 AD, which gives between that and 2016 1476 years to work with, allowing the 400ish years ago that Deya died (and the 438 years from when Voltar had the amulet) and the millenia's worth of war the War for the Surface Lands took.

Done deal, right?

Well guess what, some fucker named Spar the Spiteful (not even the first Trollhunter like Deya so proclaims to be) died 5200 years before Jim, our protagonist and first HUMAN Trollhunter, ever picked up the mantle. 5200 years before 2016 is the bloody fucking 4th millenium BC. This period included the beginnings of the Bronze Age, and was the bloody time WRITING was invented! And in Spar's time, there was no DOMESTIC HORSES! HORSE RIDING DIDN'T BLOODY EXIST WHEN SPAR DIED HOW FUCKED IT THAT!?

God FUCKING DAMN IT!

Fine, I can work with this.

Merlin in the show is all the old man we think of him as in myth, but he's also still old when we go back in time to when the Battle of Kilahead Bridge takes place, albeit it without a full head of grey hairs (how does the old man age more than his teen/young adult apprentice) potentially as a young sorcerer/wizard/whatever they use these terms interchangeably, Merlin or Myrddin created the Amulet of Daylight. You could even give more wriggle room between whenever trolls came to the surface and when Merlin made the amulet, because although Orlagk was a figure explicitly older than Gunmar, there is no mention of an amulet without Gunmar simply a time when he was still not a leader. In fact, given that Merlin's original name - Myrddin - came from a riddle designed with the intent to kill Gunmar, a piece informing the Trollhunter teams how to kill Gunmar rather than Orlagk the original leader, perhaps it's befitting to make Myrddin technically younger than the trolls; given that the original purpose of the Amulet of Daylight was not to kill Gunmar but to protect trolls, seeing as how one of the keys to Gunmar's destruction is a Triumbric Stone (one of 3) that resulted in the death of Orlagk, the amulet can date to before Gunmar and have been made after the Gumm-Gumms took out their rage on other trolls instead of humans alone.

The Trollhunter after Spar the Spiteful was Boraz the Bold, named that specifically for taking on 1000 Gumm-Gumms, was killed by Bular who was - as I said - Gunmar's son. While that does not mean that Spar the previous Trollhunter existed before Bular did, it does mean that by the time Boraz was selected after Spar's position Bular was competent enough to slay a Trollhunter, especially one as 'Bold' as Boraz who felled a thousand Gumm-Gumms before falling to 1001. It would mean that his father Gunmar would be much older, potentially tracking further and further back in time and putting Orlagk's death deeper and deeper into the War for the Surface Lands, potentially even aligned Orlagk's death and the Triumbric Stone's creation to a period humans heard of Myrddin, the death of Orlagk potentially landing in 540 AD, perhaps even in 573 AD where an actual battle took place, the Battle of Arfderydd; this details a Riderch Hael, King of Alt Clut (Stratclyde, a Brittonic kingdom in northern... well... Britain, which got annexed in the 11th century AKA 1000 AD to become part of the emerging Kingdom of Scotland) slaughtering the forces of a Gwenddoleu ap Ceidio, Myrddin having gone mad watching that defeat.

The remaining named Trollhunters, ones that weren't explicitly dated and timed, are in a bullshit order on the Wiki that I just have to piece together what is being said to put together a timeline.

Maddrux the Many, he/him in the show and she/her in the comics, was canonically an active Trollhunter before another, Araknak the Agile, was either born or an actual functioning adult; Araknak is the ancestor of the previously mentioned (and assumed to be) middle aged Blinkous Galadrigal and his brother (an older brother or twin depending on who you quote) Dictatious Maximus Galadrigal, the pair being present for the Battle of Kilahead Bridge and still alive by 2016 and idk about Tatious but Blinky appears in 2017 or at least whenever RoTT takes place. To use the term ancestor instead of grandparent or even parent, which technically ancestor can be used on either anyway, means that the exact family history is undetermined. However, we can place Maddrux at the very least on the timeline where Orlagk was still active in, seeing as that was her major enemy in the comics.

At the end of her service instead of going directly to Araknak, a Trollhunter preceded him in Magmar the Molten, the only known mountain troll to be a wielder of Daylight. Interesting to note, Araknak learnt from Magmar a certain combat move so, even before his selection by the amulet Araknak was already preferring the lifestyle of a warrior in comparison to his scholar parents; a trait that outlasted the warrior spirit and descended to the Galadrigals however many years later. Mentioned specifically as preceding not only Araknak but Tellad-Urr, we have another date to place as Tellad-Urr the Triumphant - very soon to be Tellad-Urr the Terrible - was active until 501 CE where Orlagk was still alive; how convientient. It helps that Gogun the Gentle - his immediate successor - would be the only Trollhunter to die of old age, potentially because Gunmar was too busy killing Orlagk and Orlagk too busy being dead for either of them to do anything.

Hopefully Gogun was already an old fart because the oldest recorded troll Chokeenamaga lived to 5352 years and I have no idea if that's slightly above average, notably old, or specific to a troll type (like for example, mountain trolls may have the longest average lifespan of all trollkin), and it's not like I can look at the show for any reference because Draal the Deadly, son of Kanjigar the Couragous and the previous Trollhunter did not age between 900 years yet there are no troll whelps in modern Trollmarket, let alone the fact that the Battle of Kilahead Bridge according to our established Trollhunters could not have happened before 1578 but must have happened between then and 1620. And Draal is an adult in modern day but is rather impulsive and I do not know if that is simply a troll trait or the trait of a twenty something year old that should've had a different design in the past but couldn't because of the limitations of 3D show animation (Prime fans would know or at least see visually that you can't just design a cybertronian version of a bot's root mode without things getting expensive, it's why Skyquake couldn't fly despite looking the same before and after alt mode acquisition).

Speaking of age, this is also the time where Aaarrrgghh!!! was a teenager, which either means that Blinky is actually much younger than Aaarrrgghh!!! or there is another Trollhunter or few between Araknak the Agile and Tellad-Urr the Terrible; 5200 years is a lot of grounds to cover, especially with a Trollhunter dying of age between it. Tellad-Urr has an appearance similar to Kanjigar, and given that it's a book cover rather than a 3D model there may be grounds for him being of the same tribe as Kanjigar if not an ancestor like Araknak to Blinky. It could work give or take, especially since 'ancestor' is less of an official word and more of a footnote for someone's opinion, but it isn't word of god nor anything found in any media.

And keeping with age (last one I promise) Gorgus the Gorgeous, referenced in terms used by modern trolls 'By Gorgus' or 'Great Gorgus', was one of the youngest Trollhunters to be chosen. Whether he was younger than Jim Lake Jr, 16 years old at his time of getting the amulet, depends on what the hell the age of 24 fucking means to a troll. Is it the equivalent of 24 years in troll years? If so then why the hell does he begin training 32 troll years later at age 56 if he wasn't chosen to have the amulet at 24 human years old. What is 24 human years to a troll. NotEnrique, a changeling (troll whelp cursed to change into a human, can do so at will) is canonically a few centuries old, and he is fresh from the Darklands after replacing a human baby Enrique. He at a few centuries old is able to throw and host a troll party at his age, and maybe changeling's age differently and a changeling hosting a troll party would be very new because haha discrimination, but no troll flinches at the concept. And a few centuries could be considered more than 2 (being a few it's already more than 1) so the more centuries you tack on to this college type frat party host the more and more Gorgus' age becomes terrifyingly young like exorbitantly so.

If a few centuries means 'ability to host a party where full grown trolls do keg stands' then 24 probably means whelp, baby, a fucking toddler by troll standards, assuming changelings follow troll aging standards against their human mimicking physical development standards. If a 24 year old Trollhunter is only ONE OF the youngest Trollhunters, who was the youngest? Predestined at bloody birth!? Gorgus started training at age 56, presumably when he was old enough to wield a sword, being trained by none other than Kanjigar himself; Gorgus died during training when a group of Gumm-Gumms attacked, an arrow hitting him in the head. If NotEnrique was an adult, or at the very least on the cusp of it, at a few centuries old - more than 1, probably more than 2 - then what of someone at age 56, less than a few centuries, less than one. Whether Kanjigar was a father at the time or not, loosing a kid under his guidance - to death no less - would've stuck with anyone. Why was this child sentenced to death, and so young too. One can argue all the Trollhunters to failed to live up to legacy, who became their own version of Unkar the Unfortunate, were sentenced to death and fated to die young. Gogun may have defied fate and beat the ticking clock, but Gorgus the Gorgeous - a gorgeous child, a son to parents that will never see their little boy again - proved that there is no outrunning the clock for the bells toll for thee.

If Unkar was before Gorgus, then it is to be presumed that by dying on his first night - after 6 hours of training - that Gorgus the Gorgeous was failed by Blinkous in the same way Unkar had been. The next Trollhunter in line was summoned too soon, so because of Blinky's failure the trolls against Gumm-Gumms were without a defender, potentially reducing the remaining candidates for better trainers by slaughtering them before the Trollhunter was of age. If Unkar was after Gorgus, then Kanjigar needed to step away from training, even as it was his task given to the aging elder Rundle, potentially a younger but very busy Vendel, an elder by proxy of everyone else dying on the edges of Gumm-Gumm blades. He couldn't sacrifice another child to death, and as the amulet falls onto the arrogant overconfident Unkar, Kanjigar could not bare to have stone dust on his hands again. Blinkous Galadrigal (there is no mention of Dictatious despite the presence of Gumm-Gumms in Unkar's time) is tasked to train Unkar, to teach him the tennants of Trollhunter and put to good use his scholarly teachings and pray that the soul of his Trollhunter ancestor guides him. Unfortunately - as Unkar will be enshrined in by title - you cannot let a scholar do a warrior's duty.

However way it plays out, Blinky was young (or at least younger), and his failure marked his reputation for centuries.

There is a Grimbald the Grave, trained with Kanjigar AND Deya, which would definitely place that before 1620 and potentially before 1578; Voltar wasn't mentioned to have been trained by either, but given that he was the last Trollhunter before Deya (at the very least in close proximity), Grimbald most likely came before. Now this seems like a non-issue, if you consider Grimbald against our timeline nothing seems to be wrong, potentially Kanjigar's age since he's been around for a while but his son's an adult in the modern day so he could potentially be older than Blinky who knows. But I have an elephant to address and since it's been so long since I brought it up it's been drinking tea this whole time.

Wizards, the third installment of the Tales of Arcadia series, sequel to Trollhunters, introduces to audiences that Deya the Deliverer was originally Callista the Calamity, a troll who's tribe had been wiped out by humans and had been living in human custody since she was a whelp (or of an age that she had forgotten her name). Deya makes the timeline such a mess, because her first appearance in the comics, she was of an age where Rundle - Vendel's father - was the elder of Glastonbury Tor Trollmarket at the time of Deya, the Trollmarket before Dwoza which is the Trollmarket before Arcadia. Rundle was around in 501 AD, but it was his father Kilfred who was the elder and his son Vendel was of age enough to help in consulting, however old that is. In Wizards however, Vendel was the elder of Dwoza before Deya was Deya and when Callista was still an outcast, and even then he was only the elder by proxy, signs of his father Rundle or of Kilfred missing. Of course however Rundle could have been elder of Dwoza, as his father before him was elder of Glastonbury Tor, simply that he was potentially slain potentially died of old age and that Vendel being one of the few older than most of the Dwozan trolls took over in his father's stead.

The issue with Deya is that I really like the Callista part of her backstory, of being an outsider, an outcast, in the world of trolls that still hated humanity but held a deeper fear of the Gumm-Gumms. Diaspora for trolls, Callista the Calamity is seen as a human pet despite her wanting to find her way home, a home she can never go back to because it had been destroyed long ago; the one place that she could be accepted don't because they see her as too human, a far cry to being called a monster by humans but certainly not relieving. But she had become Deya, and found her footing as the Deliverer, by turning the Trollhunter from a single force to fighting alone to rallying a bunch of... gravellors? (Whatever, I like to think of Dwoza as essentially a refugee tribe given it's diversity in comparison to the Krubera tribe who are only krubera and the Quagawump tribe who are only - save for the generic troll king Angor killed - quagawumps) to fight one last fight against the Gumm-Gumms and ending the War for the Surface Lands.

...SO... that probably means that Grimbald was trained exclusively by Kanjigar after the whole Unkar and/or Gorgus ordeal and eventually got the Trollhunter's amulet himself when Deya was slain, her sacrifice delivering the migrating trolls of Dwoza a chance to get to the New World (or the Americas). Oh and their migration was after Vendel and some king wrote a truce called 'The Pact', which - I mean - it's described as a feeble truce and with a name like that I don't blame it, where they promise to stop eating humans and limited their diet to cats and used clothes which well- they might've broke on the journey to the New World because hiding in the cramped ballast of a 1600s era boat isn't fun nor is it fast. But regardless-

I think for a sense of cohesion, let me pull out an almost timeline for this post.

Trolls who had previously been in the Darklands somehow get to the surface

Tensions between trolls and the already present humans grows beginning the War for the Surface Lands

The intensity of the war corrupts the first Heartstone, giving birth to Gunmar

A young wizard Myrddin creates the Amulet of Daylight and gifts it to the good trolls

Spar the Spiteful gets the amulet. He dies 5200 years ago

Boraz the Bold gets the amulet. He dies to Bular, Gunmar's son.

Maddrux the Many gets the amulet

Magmar the Molten, the first mountain troll Trollhunter, gets the amulet

Araknak the Agile, ancestor to Blinkous and Dictatious Galadrigal, gets the amulet

Tellad-Urr the Triumphant, turned Tellad-Urr the Terrible, gets the amulet. He is killed in 501 AD

Gogun the Gentle gets the amulet.

Orlagk the Oppressor is slain by Gunmar. Gunmar loses an eye

Gogun dies of old age.

Angor Rot makes a pact with the Pale Lady, trading his soul for her magic

Unkar the Unfortunate gets the amulet. He dies 6 hours later

Gorgus the Gorgeous, one of the youngest Trollhunters, gets the amulet. He dies at age 56

Grimbald gets the amulet

Voltar the Voracious, born of two minds, gets the amulet in 1578. He dies to Angor Rot and his soul is stolen

Deya the Deliverer, previously Callista the Calamity, gets the amulet

The Battle of Kilahead Bridge is fought. Gunmar is defeated and the Gumm-Gumms (+ Dictatious Galadrigal) are trapped in the Darklands

Deya dies against Bular, last remaining Gumm-Gumm on the surface, in 1620

Kanjigar the Couragous, trainer of many Trollhunters, gets the amulet. He dies to Bular in 2016

James Lake Junior gets the amulet, and the events of the series take place

So, members of the Trollhunter fandom, how'd I do? If you stuck around this long, welcome to my gimmick, long posts :)

Hoo boy how should I tag this?

[quietpagan]

Trollhunters: What Falls and What Grows 7

"Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them."

- A. A. Milne,  Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh

* Language, blood and violence warning *

  For the residents of Trollmarket, the excitement and gossip of a new Trollhunter faded a bit in that first week, but for Blinky the challenge of a new trainee was still fresh and new every day.

He was rather enjoying doing the complete training, as he had with Unkar. Blinky hadn’t begun training Trollhunters in anything other than lore until the previous trainer had been eaten by a goblin horde. His aptitude for the job was negligible; poor Unkar had proven that. But he’d studied up and trained Kanjigar well…although it certainly had helped that Kanjigar had already been a formidable warrior prior to being chosen as Hunter.

Alexandra was entertaining to train. She pushed herself past the previous day’s limits every session she had, but when she was finished, she was finished, and nothing short of AAARRRGGHH physically lifting her off the floor and chasing her around the arena could get her started again.

The rules of engagement were followed to the letter; even Kanjigar had struggled with rule three, which seemed to be Alexandra’s favorite.  She certainly used it on Draal a lot.

Draal, really, was another matter. His hatred of Alexandra had waned to a mere dislike, and Blinky knew that Draal appreciated the way that Alexandra would charge at him, screaming like a banshee and hacking at everything she could reach, whenever he deliberately pushed her too far. It seemed to provide a much-needed outlet for both of them, because they often got something to eat afterward and were reasonably amicable for the rest of the day.

Alexandra’s studies were going even better than the training. She was a diligent and eager student, always asking questions and taking down notes, and Blinky knew that she supplemented his lectures with the reading materials she was hoarding in her chambers.

Blinky’s studies, however, had hit a dead end. And by dead end, he meant that he had not found a single shred of evidence for Alexandra’s existence.

Which should have been impossible, or at least extremely improbable. Trolls took a lot of time and effort to record names and families, given their low numbers and long lives. Now it could have happened that her personal record was lost in the crossing and migration; Alexandra probably wasn’t old enough to have been born before the end of the war, and when the majority of trolls moved from Europe and crossed the American continent many things were lost, including documents and records. But that would not explain the absence of any record of Asphodelus, Alexandra’s…Blinky actually wasn’t sure if that was her mother or father. Blinky held one of many, many copies of records of trolls born before, during, and after the migration – it was exceptionally rare that any troll, even from a reclusive or unpopular line, neglected to have their name or the name of a new relative recorded. He, Vendel, and several other scholars around the world regularly received missives announcing the birth of a whelp.

There were three explanations for Asphodelus’s and Alexandra’s lack of records. The first was that Asphodelus was one of those rare and few who never had their names taken in the records, and they had neglected to give Alexandra’s as well. The second was that the records had – for whatever reason – been destroyed, a feat only possible through magic.

The third was that Alexandra had lied.

Maybe she didn’t know her family, Blinky thought. Maybe she had dishonored ancestors. Maybe she was in hiding. Maybe she was a criminal. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Blinky naturally told AAARRRGGHH about his findings, but neither of them rushed to inform Vendel. As soft-hearted as he was underneath the sarcasm and disappointment, he was also extremely pragmatic. A Trollhunter who lied about something so simple, so seemingly unimportant, was not a Trollhunter that they could trust.

 Alexandra was reminded in the next week of exactly how much she loved the barter system. Prices depended on what someone needed or how much they wanted what she offered, and it varied from person to person. Her cat had crapped in the room again and she bought breakfast and lunch with its leavings, as well as a hairball it spit up. That actually got her a decent little salt lamp, in addition to a plate of seared mushrooms. The residents of Trollmarket were surprisingly accommodating, and she supposed that they were very used to having foreign trolls around, as well as Trollhunters new to the job. She had not been called to do anything yet, as Blinky had told her she would, but she wanted to be ready. ‘Trollhunter’ wasn’t just a thorn in Bular’s side, but a leader and servant to the people under his or her wing. It was more responsibility than Alexandra had ever been charged with to bear, and although she had decided to truly give it her all (though she had little choice) she tried not to think about it.

Blinky may have had pity on her on the second day, but by the third she was back in the Forge, working on her footwork and building up her strength and endurance. If she was honest with herself she would have admitted that the exercise felt good, but it also left her so sore that she dreaded getting up to go train. It didn’t help that he now made the floor of the arena move.

Sparring with Draal especially killed her. He and Blinky both seemed to take absolute amusement from making her suffer, but Draal took it the extra mile. If she failed to block a hit, she had to practice the move until she got it, and then he’d still spring around and try the same hit at random times throughout the training session.

Day four had been especially brutal, because Blinky only let her use one set of arms – the lower ones. He’d seen her struggles with using them and had her practice her sword forms to perfection, changing which hand the sword was held in each time. Alexandra’s lower arms were weak and extremely out of practice, and she was still sore three days later.

In fact she’d never been more emotionally and physically exhausted in her life. Not only was she re-learning how to control a body she hadn’t used in decades, pushing it through spars and memorizing forms, she was also studying every book she could glue her eyes to and re-reading her notes from Blinky’s daily lectures.

The sheer amount of things she was completely ignorant about was staggering, and she knew that Blinky had noticed. He had begun to ask her about her family, her childhood home, how and where she had lived, where she had learned to fence, even where she’d gotten her clothes. Dodging his queries and making up half-truths and often times straight-up lies was exhausting. She was half-ready to just shout I’m a Changeling, motherfucker! just to stop him from questioning her all the time. And he was sneaky about it, too. He didn’t just outright ask her things, but made quiet little I suppose that blah blah blah comments or made delicate little prompts whenever she spoke, or else deliberately false assumptions so that she would instinctively correct them, and thus give him more information. She’d never heard or used to much double-speak and coded language in her life.

And it got dangerous, too. He’d noticed that she knew more about the Darklands than anything else. She wasn’t sure how she’d let that slip, but she needed to be more careful. She’d been so enthralled, so unusually accepted in Trollmarket that she’d gotten careless somewhere, and careless – for her kind – was deadly.

Alexandra felt a hard little skull nudge against her elbow and absently rubbed it with another hand. She had…acquired a few more cats than she had initially intended. So far the number had grown to four, and she really needed to get proper cat supplies. She hadn’t had a pet for several decades, and whenever an escapee ran across her path she just kind of…well, stole it, more or less. She made up for it by paying for things with their leavings instead of using the good ol’ I’m the Trollhunter, gimme stuff system that several stalls seemed to expect from her and she was enjoying the company, but it was getting crowded. And smelly. She really needed a proper litterbox.

Which reminded her of her other problem: Kanjigar’s body. Blinky, AAARRRGGHH, Draal, and even Vendel had all begun to pressure her about going up and fetching it. She’d procrastinated long past the point of tolerance – it had been a week already. Every time she glanced at the empty plinth in the Forge she got a little stab of annoyed guilt.

Which was exactly why she was huddled in her nest, with a cat on each arm, reading about the trolls who fought in the Gallic wars and avoiding the trip she’d planned.

She’d received multiple offers to help with the retrieval, but every one had been refused; she couldn’t let them see her apartment.

The little watch she’d bought told her that it was almost sunset, and she closed her book with a sigh. Getting Kanjigar out during the daytime would have been more convenient for her, but too many people would see her, and even if she covered him with a sheet there would be too many questions. Alexandra also doubted that she could pick him up in her human form; strong as it was, trolls weighed a lot, especially once dead. This was not going to be fun.

She snuck out of the market just as the sun was beginning to set, and Changed in the shadows of the bridge. The light, the sounds, the smells of the human world hit her like a brick, and she wobbled for a few steps before she got used to only having two hands and more even proportions again. This was why she preferred to stay in one shape; her human and troll forms were too different. She almost felt blinded with only two eyes to see from.

She went to the town’s tiny supermarket first and bought a supply of cat litter and food. She’d run low very quickly, but it would give her time to either find some sand or get rid of the cats.

Being Upstairs was…odd. It was like returning to your hometown after an extended trip; both new and familiar. She felt distinctly more at ease than she was in Trollmarket, and by the time she got to her apartment it was like she never gone.

A neighbor greeted her, but otherwise she was unbothered. She had the habit of taking pains not to make friends where she lived; she’d found out the hard way how difficult it was to disappear for a period of time when someone expected to chat with her in the apartment hallway every day. It raised too much suspicion when someone was familiar with her daily routines.

Kanjigar still stood in the living room, a menacing stone statue staring a ruffled yellow curtain.

Alexandra quickly shut the door, taking a look around the apartment to make sure nothing was amiss; things were exactly the same as she had left them, although a bit dusty. Her senses were a bit heightened after so soon a Change, and she could smell the neglect – the things gone bad in the fridge, the clothes that hadn’t been washed, the hot-dust scent from the closed curtains. She’d forgotten to turn off her air conditioning, and it rattled on. She knew in that moment that she would pack her things away, terminate her lease, and give her notice at the bookshop. This was the world she was used to, but not the one she could stay in now. Trollhunter, unfortunately, was rather all-encompassing.

There was still glass and a stained blanket on the floor by Kanjigar’s feet, from where he’d broken the window.

Prove yourself, he had said. You are more than what you were made to be.

Prove yourself.

Alexandra shook the memory out of her head and puttered around the apartment, making calls and packing things up, trying to do as much as she could until it was the early hours of morning. As soon as it hit two-thirty, she closed her computer, packed her cat supplies into a bag, and Changed, stepping carefully around the glass to tie a sheet over Kanjigar. She had to summon the armor to pick him up and drag him over to the front door, which was just barely wide enough.

It took a little concentration, but she managed a little trick – to Change while in the armor. The armor shrank with her, forming seamlessly on her human body, and she draped herself in a long winter coat. Odd, for the time of the year, but she’d need the power-up and didn’t want to be caught either in glowing armor or in troll form if any of her neighbors came to investigate why she was dragging an enormous sheet-covered statue out of the building at three in the morning.

The elevator – because there was no way in hell she was dragging Kanjigar’s fat ass down the damn stairs – accommodated only one of them, so Alex had to send Kanjigar down by himself, while she ran down the stairs and hoped to hell that no one wanted to use the elevator.

Getting him through the front door was a trip, literally, because of the stairs. She almost smashed him – his left elbow actually caught the doorframe and chipped off, and Alexandra nearly dropped the rest of him in surprise and dismay. She frightened a young man passing by with her cursing, and by the time she got to the edge of the park she was ready to either cry or laugh maniacally, and just dump him in the grass. She Changed once more in the shadows of the trees and dragged him through the park.

She had to think for a bit on how, exactly, to get Kanjigar down the side of the canal without breaking him, and eventually she gave up, tucked him behind a tree, and went down to Trollmarket to get some help.

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH were waiting at the base of the crystal staircase, as she had asked them to, but she wasn’t surprised to see Draal there as well. He looked her up and down, as if seeing her in the armor still horrified him, and gestured around them.

“Where is my father?” “I don’t want him to break,” said Alexandra, shooting foremost for whatever would get Draal to be sympathetic. “Will you give me a hand?”

Draal snorted but brushed by her.

“You should have a few to spare,” he said. Alexandra rolled her eyes and came up the stairs behind him, hearing Blinky and AAARRRGGHH following.

“Excuse me if I’m not composed solely of muscle and bad attitude,” she muttered, just loud enough for Draal to hear.

He kept quiet, unusual for him, but she knew that most of his piss and vitriol was borne from mourning. As rude and brutish as he was, he had just lost his father less than a week ago, and the fact that he not only hadn’t tried to kill but was actively training his father’s replacement was…reasonably admirable.

They emerged from the entrance to see the morning beginning to lighten; the tops of trees were distinguishable from the sky, and although it would be at least another half hour until the sun broke it was still much later than Alex would have liked. She was immune to the effects of daylight, but the others were not and the exact last thing she needed was another cocksucking statue to drag down to Trollmarket.

“He’s up here. Let’s hurry.” Alexandra pushed past Draal and clamored up the side of the canal, keeping one eye on to the east and the others watching for humans or Bular, since he was familiar with the area.

The others had to wait until a paperboy passed over the bridge, but once Alexandra waved them clear they joined her in the park. AAARRRGGHH started to lift the sheet but Alex shooed his hands away, the pale grey sky worrying her.

“We’ll do that later,” she whispered. “Just get him down.”

Draal and AAARRRGGHH had to tag-team it to get Kanjigar down the side of the canal without any damage, and they got him through the entrance without trouble.

Alexandra went last, and just as the portal closed she saw, out of the corner of two eyes, the spindly leg of a goblin disappear behind the beam of the bridge above.

There was an uproar down below when Alex managed to get her heartrate back under control and descend the stairs.  She knew she’d have to see goblins and Changelings and Bular again, but she really hadn’t expected it, as if it could just be a slightly possibility if she didn’t think about it enough. She had not been ready.

Alexandra was still dazed when she walked to the bottom of the stairs, and thus Blinky’s warning look didn’t register with her. Only her newly-built reflexes saved her from getting her face caved in.

AAARRRGGHH caught her and pushed her back to her feet; she had tripped over the sheet she’d used to cover Kanjigar. Draal was standing in front of the dead troll, looking more murderous than he had when she’d first seen him.

“What kind of insult is this?!”

He roared in her face and gestured violently to his father. Alex looked over his shoulder; Kanjigar was unchanged. She was afraid some kid had drawn a mustache on him or something.

“What insult,” she asked. Draal shoved his face two inches in front of her own, breathing so hard that his nose ring rattled.

“You dare to bring me my father in this condition, in this state, and expect no retribution? I will not see Kanjigar the Courageous dishonored in this way!” “He’s not wearing the armor,” said Blinky behind her, and Alex finally understood. Why hadn’t she seen this before?

Each and every Trollhunter interred in the Hero’s Forge was shown in his or her armor. Every Trollhunter had died in that armor.

Except Kanjigar.

“Master Alexandra, perhaps now would be a good time to explain what, exactly, happened.”

Blinky sounded unusually stern, and with a glance she saw suspicion and accusation in his and AAARRRGGHH’s faces.

The trolls surrounding them looked as grim and distrustful as they did, and over the tops of their heads Alexandra could see Vendel’s starry eyes glaring.

“I challenge you,” said Draal then, his voice almost shaking with anger, the words difficult to hear through clenched teeth. Alexandra whirled around to face him in surprise.

“You will pay for my father’s insult with blood.”

“I can explain this,” she hissed at him. She was wholly shaken; in the week since they’d known each other she’d never have considered him a friend, but to have him challenge her to a duel? Where one or both of them would die? It was beyond dismaying. She thought she’d been doing better than this.

“Draal, I can explain – “ “I don’t care,” he said. It was all she could do to not back away when he fully stepped into her space, shoulders hunched, jaw tense, fists clenched and shaking. Right there, it was just the two of them, breathing in each other’s fear and anger.

Around them, several people were cheering him and goading him on, demanding him to fight her, to make her pay, to show her what a true Trollhunter should be, and when Alexandra looked in his eyes she saw the weight of all those expectations glimmering there. He was angry, yes, but not enough to be willing to possibly die in a duel.

Alexandra minutely shook her head. Draal’s eyes widened.

“I’m not fighting you for this,” she whispered. Draal exhaled, but didn’t back down.

“I’m not fighting,” she said, louder this time.

“No backing out of challenge,” said AAARRRGGHH, quietly, solemnly. Several of the trolls in the crowd agreed with him, yelling for them to get a move on.

I can’t do this.

I have to do this.

A Changeling’s life was one of difficult decisions, of absences and losses and unmet wants. She’d left her first family in shame; her second in mourning; friends and lovers with empty rooms and empty beds. She’d killed people who had suspected her; a man who thought she was a witch; a woman who had seen her in the subway tunnels; a fellow Changeling who fought her in the Darklands, and another who kept digging into her disappearance.

She could live with herself if – when – she killed Draal.

Alexandra refused to second-guess herself and think further on it. She summoned the armor. The people around them screamed for blood, and Draal’s eyes tightened with disappointment and determination.

The crowd followed them to the Hero’s Forge. Blinky and AAARRRGGHH separated her from the throng and Vendel pulled Draal to the other side of the arena, looking for all the world like a disappointed grandparent. People filled the balconies, and from the massive doorway Blinky situated her just inside of, most of them looked like they were rooting for Draal.

Blinky hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder.

“Remember the three rules,” he said quietly. “I know we have not trained as much as…as I would have liked, but you are creative, and you know Draal’s habits, as he knows yours. Draal will not be afraid of you, and that will be his failing. Let his hubris bring him to his defeat.”

Alex thought back to the resignation and obligation in Draal’s violent yellow eyes, and knew that it wasn’t truly hubris that made him challenge her. But she nodded, giving Blinky a reassuring smile.

The crowd cheered and boo’d her when she stepped through the doorway.

“The Trollhunter has been challenged by the son of her predecessor,” said Vendel to the masses, “In defense of his father Kanjigar’s honor. You all will bear witness to the battle, which will be one for the ages!” Vendel muttered something after that, but Alexandra couldn’t hear it.

“Enter Alexandra, daughter of Asphodelus, Trollhunter.”

The cage-like door slammed down behind her, almost making her jump.

“And now, Alexandra’s combatant, Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarigar. Draal the ‘Destroyer’.”

Draal came tearing out of his doorway, curled into a crystal-spike-covered ball and rolling across the floor almost faster than Alex’s eyes could follow. He rocketed up the wall and fell, landing in the center of the arena just a few yards from Alexandra.

“Prepare for battle,” said Vendel. Draal cracked his fists on the stone floor, roaring at Alex and hunching his shoulders. She summoned the sword and twirled it in her hand, baring her not-inconsiderable teeth and snarling. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, like he had in their first meeting, but also she knew the measure of him. He was a kid under too much pressure and little guidance, unfortunately a fantastic warrior, but he wanted to fight as much as she did. He wanted to live and he didn’t like her, but his heart wasn’t into killing her, and that was her advantage. She was a damned Changeling; their methods differed, their loyalty wavered, and their power was nonexistent, but they survived.

The arena rumbled, and then rose; Alexandra and Draal, on the centerpiece, were carried to the level of the balconies, while the rest of the floor settled on various levels below.

Vendel raised his arms, and the crowd hushed for a single second.

“Begin.”

Alexandra struck first. She rolled to the side, swinging her sword at the back of Draal’s knees. He jumped away with a yelp, obviously not having expected her to make the first move.

I’m the fucking Trollhunter, for Christ’s sake, she thought darkly. I’m not taking this shit from you!

They charged each other at the same time, and he blocked her sword with the wraps on his wrist. She knew he wasn’t going to use any of the forms or strikes he’d trained her in, and she didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t going to pull his punches, and neither was she.

This wasn’t the time to fight fair. If she could get enough limbs at least injured with Daylight she might have a chance.

While she was trying to cut through his wraps, he lowered his head and caught her on the chin with his horns, sending her reeling back before she could turn his wrist to stone.

Is the Trollhunter allowed to be underhanded?

Draal spat on the floor and rolled his shoulders, eagerly waving at the small crowd that had cheered his hit.

Y’know…I don’t give a fuck.

Draal began to turn around as Alexandra rose, and then he very softly sank to the ground, Alexandra’s foot retracting from between his legs. She ignored the booing from the crowd in favor of hitting him in the head with both right fists before he could have time to do more than groan. The punches downed him, but he rolled, retreating to the other side of the centerpiece.

“That’s a coward’s move,” he shouted, standing rather stiffly. Alexandra rolled her shoulders and summoned the sword again.

“And yet it worked. Come at me.”

Draal came after her, faster than she was prepared for. He hit her with a glance but it still threw her several feet, and she was reminded that the floor wasn’t exactly level anymore. Her second left hand caught her before she could fall and she flipped, landing in a graceless roll on the piece of arena floor below, the sword sliding away from her.

There was a crack, and the pain hit after a second of shock. The elbow she’d hurt in their first spar, almost healed in the past week, took too much pressure on the sprain and failed. Her primary arm was useless.

Too soon. It was only a minute into the fight, it was too soon, and she was already injured.

And Draal had noticed.

She looked up to see him peering over the edge of the level above; her level moved suddenly, and began to rise as his fell. He jumped over when they crossed paths and grabbed her leg, hurling her upwards, but her sword materialized in her other right hand and she slashed at his arms and face, forcing him to let go; she rose a few more feet, and then began to fall. Draal was still bothered by his left eye turning to stone; Alex’s sword angled downward, and he only managed to avoid being run through by a lucky hit. She was swatted out of the air and over the side of the level again, but she was back up when the floor flattened again. Alex scrambled backward onto the centerpiece just in time to see the pieces surrounding it turning onto their sides.

Draal jumped and landed far below.

Fuck that.

Alexandra waited until the centerpiece went back down before striking again, catching her breath in the brief reprieve. She was losing because she was fighting like a troll. Taking hits, striking fast and plain – just like Blinky and Draal taught her. But this wasn’t a brawl or a spar – she would die if she didn’t win this fight.

Draal smirked at her when she reached the floor, but when he swung at her she dodged, moving her head just enough to the side that his blow missed. She twisted and struck with her left hands, leaving claw marks on his cheek and neck before dancing out of the way again.

“You can do better than that,” she hissed. Draal snarled and charged, as she knew he would, and she slid neatly between his legs and hacked off the edges of several of the crystals on his back. He snarled in rage and swiped at her again, but she stayed out his range, throwing the cut tips of the crystals at his face.

Draal had to block his view of her to shield his face, but he quickly got tired of it and rolled again. Alexandra wasn’t fast enough to get out of his way and he grabbed her, kicking her in the nose and getting a deadly hold on her torso and squeezing. The armor crackled with blue, trying to shield her; she twisted as far as she could and managed to hook a finger in his nose-ring.

Blood sprayed her arm and face as she ripped it out; Draal yelled and smashed a hand against her helmet, the noise and pressure making her head ring and her vision blur – and then her vision blacked out completely, when she wriggled out of his grip but was tackled to the floor.

Alex managed to get an arm around his throat before several hundred pounds of hyper-masculine troll crushed her ribcage; she couldn’t breathe. Draal dug the edges of his crystals into her leg and she had to grit her teeth to avoid crying out, but she did yell and bite him when he smashed his elbow into the side of her jaw. She held tighter, tasting blood in her mouth from where she’d bitten her tongue, but she didn’t let go of his head until it was either that or have him break her leg.

Draal rolled out of her grip and they stood slowly, circling each other steadily. They each took stock of their individual injuries even as their eyes stayed focused on the eyes of the other. Draal had a slowly-healing patch of stone staining his left eye as well as several small patches on the undersides of his arms and one on his side. One of his teeth had been knocked loose, and dribbles of blood splattered on the arena floor from his mouth and the torn skin on his cheek, neck, and nose, and the place she’d bitten him on the elbow.

Alex’s primary arm was dead weight, the elbow dislocated. Her mouth was aching and the blood made her nauseas, and her chest pained when she took anything but a shallow breath. Two of the eyes on the left side of her face were swollen shut, and her head was aching and ringing. Her right leg hurt when she put pressure on it; her mobility was now severely limited. The sword, if she kept using it in one of her less-experienced hands, was more of a danger to herself than to Draal, despite all of the drills he’d made her run for the exact occasion where her primary arm would be rendered incapable.

She had three arms and one leg, in a fight against an opponent larger, stronger, and faster than she.

Rule Number One, she thought wryly. She was fucking terrified.

Draal wiped the blood away from his nose and growled at her. The sound jarred at her ringing ears but she responded in kind, and crouched in a defensive position.

When he struck next, she evaded, and kept evading, only darting in his range to land a fast strike and then dodging out of the way when he tried to hit her again. Alex hoped to tire him out; she kept moving back behind his elbow, just inside his blind stop, which forced him to turn around quickly before she could slice at the back of his arms or his neck.

The plan stopped working when he grabbed her sword. Just…grabbed her sword.

The cut it made on his hand was enough to turn the entire thing up to the wrist to stone, but once Draal got a grip he did not – could not – let go, and the sword was wrenched from Alexandra’s hands; it vanished in a spark of blue.

Alex was so shocked that she forgot to duck.

The uppercut sent her to the floor, the armor having absorbed only enough to avoid her neck being broken from the sheer force of the hit. Alex crumbled on the ground, smacked her helmet, and blacked out.

 The birdsong was loud in her ears; it was too early for the dogwood outside of her window to be blooming, but the birds perched in it year-round. She snuggled deeper into her quilt, curling her knees up around her chest to get a little bit warmer.

Hendry, her father, was gently calling to her.

“Wake up,” he said; his voice was smiling, as it often did. “Thou art late in rising, Alexandra.”

She hated when he spoke in English. Most of their community was from England and it was the primary language used, but she preferred the Welsh that Hendry and Gwladys, her mother, used at home.

“Bore da,” she murmured, which made him chuckle; the entire household knew her dislike of learning English.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Mae'n rhy oer i fod yn dda.”

“It may be cold,” he replied, “But it is still a good day, and thou must rise.”

She pulled the quilt over her head. Rising meant going outside, for milk and eggs. Breakfast wasn’t worth the cold, and she was sooo tired. Every inch of her body ached. “Alexandra,” Hendry said again, and this confused her. Her father had never known her as Alexandra. She was Verity, to him. Wasn’t she? “Alexandra. Thou must rise. Get up.”

Why did she have to get up when it hurt so much? There was a roaring in her ears, as if a crowd was outside the window. Was something happening? Had a house caught fire, like the neighbors’ did last winter? Why were people yelling so much? It hurt her head. Suddenly she wasn’t cold – she was warm. Warmer than spring had ever felt in her house.

“Alexandra, get up. You must get up!” Her right arm hurt too much to move, and the ringing in her ears, only now noticeable, was like a church bell. She was beginning to panic, but she still couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Get up, Alexandra,” Hendry yelled. “You must get up!” “Get up!” “Alexandra!”

Alex groaned.

“Dydw i ddim eisiau mynd i fyny,” she murmured. The blood and pain in her mouth made her slur; she hoped her father would understand, and stop shouting. A strange thundering sound, like the footsteps of God, were coming closer and closer to her.

“Alexandra, please, get! Up!”

She tried to open her eyes, but some wouldn’t listen. Her leg and arm were on fire.

Blinky’s yell shot an arrow of pain straight between her brows.

“ALEXANDRA!”

Alex’s eyes snapped open, and she flipped backward just in time to avoid a massive crystal-encrusted shoulder landing where her head had been. She summoned the sword automatically and sliced as Draal rolled, giving him a streak of stone across his shoulder and bicep and rendering the arm useless. Her momentum twisted her around and she used the sword and two of her arms to brace against the ground when she kicked Draal in the side as he fell. He did not get up.

The crowd above gasped and cheered, out of horror and the thirst for battle; Alex’s ears turned the sound to white noise. She had to use the sword to stand and walk.

Draal was utterly defeated. There was a cut on his throat and chin that bled sluggishly, and he couldn’t lift his arms to block when she positioned her sword between his eyes.

They stayed locked for several moments, both immobilized in their own ways.

“The match is to the death, Trollhunter,” Draal snarled quietly, but his voice was more resigned than defiant. It was the tone that made her pause.

He was resigned to being killed by her.

Something about her black-out caught at her, and a fleeting memory ran through her mind:

“All life is of worth, Verity,” said her mother, sharing with her a pot of tea while they waited for the bread to rise. She had gotten angry at one the neighbors’ boys, who had teased her when she shrieked at and kicked away a snake. She’d punched the tall one right in the nose, causing her mother to be drawn out of a Meeting to deal with her.

“Even the mean, the cruel, and the poorest of men. All break the divine bread of life, of its hopes and sorrows and loves…”

Alex couldn’t remember past that. She’d said something that made Gwladys grimace, but she didn’t hit the others again. A few years later she heard about the witch-hunts happening in ­­­Bamburg, and became the best-behaved child in the village, making friends and allies with absolutely everyone, too terrified to act out because what if.

She’d always felt better and worse after her mother’s sermons, both cleansed and guilty, because she remembered the shriek when she’d broken another Changeling child’s arm, not two years before she’d been assigned. She pushed another off a towering geode and watched her break, heard the sudden shrill whistle from the goblin who watched the fights. She’d felt favored and powerful, then – capable of surviving. Always surviving.

The crowd above them was screaming, screaming for her to so something.

She’d known from the beginning that he didn’t want to die, not for this fight. She could have lived with killing him.

But things were different now; she wasn’t just surviving. Even if people found out, she was still the Trollhunter, and would be until her death. That changed things.

Alexandra tapped her sword against Draal’s neck, and slowly bent down. She had to brace two arms against his shoulder to avoid falling over, but he was still at her mercy, and his defeated eyes knew it.

“…You are worth more than this death today,” she whispered to him. His eyes fell to her sword, and she shook her head minutely.

“The fight is to the death,” he whispered back, more urgently this time. Alexandra knew the rules; troll society was one of the first thing’s she’d read up on. But it didn’t matter.

“Do you really think that this is the best you can do,” she said. “You have more of a destiny than this, Draal. You are more than the son of your father.”

He looked utterly shocked. Alexandra removed her sword from his throat, and stood. She moved smoothly, strong and steady, clenching her teeth from the pain but refusing to show any weakness to the screaming crowd – not now.

Draal hesitated when she put her hand in his, but his fingers finally tightened, and she lifted him back to his feet.

Alexandra ignored the crowd, and slowly walked Draal to the door, barely feeling the glares and thrown refuse as they left the arena.                

Alex took them the long way around, in an attempt to avoid as many people as possible, but the only ones about were those who had not attended the fight, and so she and Draal were left alone as she took him to her quarters. She’d passed Blinky and AAARRRGGHH to fetch her bag, but at the look she gave them neither of them spoke, and she knew it would be a while before they came to check on her.

The cats had made a mess in the bathroom. Draal sank on the nest when she pushed him down, and followed the little creatures with his eyes.

“Did you steal all these cats,” he asked. Alexandra dragged herself into the patch of light that the Heartstone shone through her window and dismissed the armor, sliding down the wall in a pained heap.

“Yes.” “Can I eat o – “

“No.”

She’d closed her eyes, and so only heard Draal shift in the nest.

“What is the purpose of these cats – “ “Stop asking about my cats.”

Draal mercifully shut up, and began digging through her small stash of medicines, if her ears were correct. They were still ringing unpleasantly. At some point in time her hair had come loose, and the short ends prickled her ears uncomfortably.

Everything hurt. This wasn’t something she could just get over in a week. It was going to take a lot more than a few crystals and a salt lamp to fix the injuries she’d sustained in the match.

“Fuck you,” Alex muttered.

“You have destroyed my honor and effectively banished me from my home,” Draal replied. She smelled a package of herbs being opened, and hoped he wasn’t going to use all of it.

“Yeah, well, you kicked me in the face.”

Draal snorted. It sounded painful.

“And you touched my sword, you asshole. I hope you weren’t attached to that hand.” “As long as it stays attached to me, it should be…fine.”

I hope it crumbles, Alex thought maliciously. She let Draal take his pick of the medicine supply before mutely holding out her least-aching hand and letting him deposit the rest there. The salves were already mixed, and were applied to her cuts and bruises; the herbs chewed and swallowed; the crystal…

She really didn’t want to stand up, so she laboriously scooted on her ass over to the side of the nest. Draal was at least sitting up, and she gestured to her dislocated elbow.

He was delicate, actually, and when the joint was back in place Alex firmly attached her little crystal to it, hoping that at least she’d be able to move the arm by morning. She moved back to the shaft of Heartstone light, and waited for the medicines to take hold.

Draal, having done everything he could for his wounds, had nothing better to do than sit and stare at the wall. He looked so lost, so empty of everything, that Alex couldn’t help the flare of pity.

“I am sorry about Kanijigar,” she said softly. Draal wiped a crust of blood from his upper lip and looked at his feet.

“I watched his fight with Bular,” Alexandra said quietly. “He did well, but he was losing. Too injured, out too late. The amulet led him to me. He told me I was the next Trollhunter, handed me the amulet, and stepped into the sunlight.”

Draal wasn’t going to cry, she knew. It wasn’t his thing, and she didn’t think he was that close with his father anyway. Hero-worship was different than familial affection.

After a long time, Draal finally spoke.

“Why did he hand you the amulet,” he asked softly. “He would have died with it with him. It was his to the death, as it is now yours.” “He was brain-damaged,” said Alex absently, tonguing her sore teeth. Draals turned to her so fast that his neck cracked.

“I didn’t… not…that he was stupid. Half his head was sun-stained. He literally had taken damage to the brain, and that messes with your decision-making skills. I’m guessing that he also wasn’t much for mood swings?” Draal shook his head, the righteous anger on his face fading.

“Yeah. So. Sun-stained.”

Silence. Then:

“He’s missing an elbow.”

Alexandra dug through her bag and threw it at him.

“And part of his hand.” “I don’t know where that is,” Alexandra said. “He came to me damaged.”

Draal glared at her with daggers in his eyes, and she ignored him. She’d beaten his ass in a fight; he didn’t scare her anymore.

“You’re not staying here, you know.” Draal looked at her from beneath his heavy brows, like some kicked puppy with big yellow eyes, although one was crusted with blood. He had a surprisingly boyish face when he stopped snarling. Alexandra worried at a split in her lip.

“You can stay for a day or so, at least until you’re healed enough to not collapse and die in a sewer somewhere.”

Apparently that was permission enough for him to fall backward onto the nest. Alexandra exhaled heavily. She sat in the light of the Heartstone for a good while after that, feeling the faint pulse it made course through the aches and cracks in her body, before she painfully stood up and walked to the nest, elbowing Draal in the face until he made room for her. She lay wedged between his armpit and the wall, her damaged leg hanging off of the side, and used the back of his shoulder as a pillow.

“Don’t fucking touch my cats,” she murmured, just as she felt him falling asleep. He huffed in annoyance, but stayed quiet.

“If you roll over on me I’m turning you to stone.” “Good night, Trollhunter.”

Alexandra closed her eyes.

Asshole.

  A/N: I fucking lied. AAARRRGGHH and Alex’s big clusterfuck will happen next chapter. I fucking swear. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t do that scene.

There’s no way that Jim could have picked up Blinky during that time-stop episode unless he’d used the armor’s power-up function, because Blinky’s fucking huge in comparison and he’s made of damn living stone.

I love how Draal was so popular and well-liked, and then they were screaming ‘end him, end him’ when he was at Jim’s mercy, and when he got beaten in the duel all of his former fans were throwing shit and insults at him – not a single one stuck by him. Vendel was the only person who seemed horrified that he was going to get killed. Shows how many real friends Draal had in Trollmarket, as opposed to mere followers and groupies. Popularity can be brutal, and for the son of the ‘very best’ Trollhunter it would have been even more so. I remember something from a Pratchett book that was like, ‘the crowd that applauds at your coronation is the same one that cheers your execution’.

Part of the fight is ranting from the dogfight I had to help break up yesterday. One dog had the other by the ear and the other bit her leg to pieces. It was the first dogfight I’ve been up-close and personal in.

I hc that the Changelings we see are the ones who survived, ie the ones that were fast and ruthless enough to avoid being eaten by Gumm-Gumms and being killed by their fellow Changelings, in competition. Just because Alex was raised a Quaker doesn’t mean she’d forgotten being raised a dirty-fighting opportunity killer – just that she’d capable of choosing when to use which teachings.

I spent like five minutes just listening to people talking in Welsh, it was the trippiest thing ever. I have no idea. I have no idea.

I have no idea if the trolls bleed. We saw Draal get cut and he only had some sort of shiny crystal-stuff inside the cut, and Nomura and Bular both got cut without blood. But kid’s shows and movies seem to avoid blood for some reason; when Jim got his ass kicked by Nomura and the goblins he had red cuts, but no blood. Trolls breathe, definitely have similar digestive systems, have bits that need to be covered up, so I’m going to say they bleed, too.

Alex’s mother’s words were adapted from this: https://quakerlexicon.wordpress.com/2010/01/14/all-of-life-is-a-sacrament/

The term ‘sun-stained’ is from the @decepticonfetti fic Burning Bridges, which you can read on AO3 here.