Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something was up with Walter. Barbara wasn't sure what, exactly, was going on with the man, but something was definitely off. He seemed so nervous. She'd given him a chance to calm down when she went to the restroom, but when she returned, he still seemed nervous, though he hid it well.

The man couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her cup, and she was immediately suspicious. It didn't matter that she'd been getting to know this man, that she was essentially on a date with him, she knew how to watch for signs of drink tampering. She'd avoided that thus far, and she wasn't about to let something like this happen to her now.

So she brought the cup to her lips and convincingly pretended to drink, and Walter seemed to relax slightly as he also took a drink. That basically confirmed her suspicion. 

"Oh. I think I'm going to need a bit more sugar in this," Barbara said, setting her cup down "I'll just go get some, shall I?" As she stood, she bumped into the table and caused her cup to fall, the porcelain smashing on the concrete below.

"Oh, my!" Walter said, startled.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry, I can be so clumsy!" Barbara apologized.

"Oh, no, it's perfectly alright," Walter reassured. "It's just coffee." A flash of worry crossed his face for a split second before his expression smoothed out, and Barbara was certain he'd done something to her drink.

Barbara smiled sheepishly. "I probably don't really need the caffeine. I'll go get myself a bottle of water." With that, she left her companion to go do just that.

Strickler was a bit concerned. Barbara had only taken a sip of the charmed coffee. He couldn't feel any noticeable change, but he wasn't sure that he was supposed to. Angor Rot had said it was guaranteed to work, so his only option was to trust that it had been enough.

Chapter Text

Nomura didn't head directly back to the museum and take the risk of reporting her failure to Bular. Instead, she made her way to Strickler's house. She may be planning to keep the little gynt's secret from Bular, but she would wager that the other changeling already knew. So there she was, lounging in what must be the man's favorite armchair. She whistled as she waited, flipping through the books Strickler kept in his living room. She wondered if he actually read these, or if he just kept them here for appearances. She didn't have to wait much longer, as the front door opened and Strickler staggered in. From the expression on his face, he must be smarting form the loss of the Amulet. She did wonder how the Trollhunter got it back.

"You look... rough," Nomura snarked. She snickered under her breath.

Strickler startled, jerking his head to look at the intruder in his home. Nomura grinned nastily at his shock.

Strickler scowled at the look. "Bular was... displeased at the loss of the Amulet. But I see you failed at retrieving the Trollhunter."

Nomura scowled back.

"No matter. We have another way to get the Trollhunter - and the Amulet - to open the bridge."

Nomura raised one perfectly-sculpted brow. "Oh? And how will you convince the little changeling to do that?" she asked slyly.

Strickler's eyes widened. "You know...?"

"Oh, yes. The little gynt transformed right in front of me. I was quite surprised," Nomura explained. "Strange, though. When I knocked him out, he turned back to his human form."

Strickler's brow furrowed. "That is strange."

"So, obviously he's only part changeling. Who do you think ran off with that human woman you like so much to make him?" Nomura asked.

Strickler bristled at the offense to Barbara Lake. "I haven't a clue. Regardless, we have captured the Trollhunter's mentor, Blinky, and forced him to record a message demanding the Trollhunter come to the museum, alone, if he wants the troll to live."

"Heh. Well, as long as you don't try to make your own abomination after Gunmar is freed," Nomura prodded, laughing at the deadpan look her statement got her.

Doing his best to ignore the mean laughter, Strickler swept past, further into his home. In the back of his mind, though, the thought nagged at him. Changelings seldom left the Janus Order, so who, exactly, had been Jim's changeling father?

Chapter Text

Barbara Lake had a rare day off work. One of her co-workers had a sudden engagement for the evening, and had begged her to swap shifts. She was glad to help out a co-worker, and it gave her a chance to take care of some things around the house, for once. It was  early afternoon, and she was relaxing on her bed with a good book. She was halfway to dozing, barely focusing on the book in her hands, when she heard a noise. She jerked into a sitting position, straining to listen. The noise continued. Was someone in the house? Jim was still at school for another couple of hours, so no one else should be here. Putting her feet on the floor carefully, Barbara tiptoed out of her bedroom. She crept down the stairs slowly, hugging the wall so the steps wouldn't creak. When she reached the main floor of the house, she glanced around warily. Nothing amiss in the living or dining rooms. The sliding screen between the dining room and kitchen was open, so she could see there was no one in there, either. She was starting to wonder if she'd heard an animal. Then she heard the sound of metal scraping. It came from the basement. One step at a time, heel to toe, Barbara moved into the kitchen and picked up the cast iron pan Jim used to make breakfast this morning. Gripping the pan tightly with both hands, she turned back to the basement door. She started turning the doorknob as slowly as humanly possible.

In the basement of the Lake domicile, Draal had just returned from Trollmarket. He knew it was well into the day, and he was tired. He wasn't being particularly quiet, as the house above should be empty at this time of day. Jim was at school, and Bah-bu-rah was at the hospital. So no, he wasn't being quiet as he lumbered in from the tunnel, nor as he moved a shelf in front of the hole. (Draal wanted something that would alert him to intruders while he slept. The shelf certainly wouldn't stop any assailants, but it would wake him and let him prepare for a fight.) The troll dragged his feet, shuffling over to the furnace. The hot coals made a nice snack, and he was feeling peckish. Distracted by his snack, he didn't notice the doorknob turning. He did, however hear the door creaking on its hinges. His head whipped around to stare at the perceived intruder. His eyes grew wide and he dropped the coals he held. He made a single, darting glance to the tunnel, but remembered he'd pulled the shelf in front of it. This was bad. This was very bad.

The first thing Barbara noticed was the color blue, and lots of it. It took her only a second to realize what she was looking at. There was a troll. In their basement. She hefted her pan like a baseball bat, preparing to swing at the slightest hint of threat. The troll froze when it noticed her, glancing at the shelf behind it for a split second before returning its gaze to Barbara. She took the chance to observe the other during their standoff. The troll was bright blue, with crystal-like spikes all over his back, large, curving horns, and a nose ring like a bull.

"Who are you, and what ar you doing in my house?!" she demanded.

Draal, startled, still had the presence of mind to back into the center of the basement so that he was in full view. He held his hands up, level with his face, trying to convey that he was non-threatening. After all, he had promised to protect the Trollhunter's mother. He would do everything in his power not to harm her himself, either. Then he realized the woman had said 'who are you' and not 'what are you'. He was so surprised by this that he couldn't make his mind work to speak.

When the blue troll didn't respond, Barbara continued, cast iron pan still held aloft. "Does my son know you're here?!" she demanded. As she moved further into the basement, leaving the door open, a thought nagged at her. It felt like she should recognize this troll even though she'd never seen them. She observed the troll's lack of threatening expression or body language. In fact, the troll looked caught off guard, unsure what to say. Barbara lowered the pan, slightly. It seemed that this troll was unlikely to become threatening or violent, right now. 

Draal snorted in either confusion or indecision. He wasn't sure which it really was. He was taken aback, to say the least, that the Trollhunter's mother almost immediately associated his presence as having to do with her son. The Trollhunter spoke highly of his mother, and Draal was beginning to see why.

"Ba-bu-rah, mother of James Lake Jr. I am Draal, son of Kanjigar," the troll said, bowing his head slightly.

Immediately after the troll introduced himself as 'Draal', Barbara understood exactly why this troll's description was familiar.

"You!" she shouted, narrowing her eyes and pointing the frying pan at the troll. This was the troll Jim had mentioned in his letter. The one he was forced to fight, that under different circumstances, might have been the death of her son. She took a vindictive kind of satisfaction in seeing the startled look on the troll's face. Serves him right, she thought.

"You're lucky Jim's okay, mister. Now, why the hell are you in my basement?!"

Distantly, Draal was impressed that this human was able to throw him off-balance so easily. He snorted, hesitant to speak in fear of further arousing her ire. Then he finally founds the words within himself to speak.

"After... Jim honorably defeated me in combat, he chose to spare my life. Unfortunately, under troll custom, I was therefore disgraced, and unwelcome in my former home. So, in repayment for my life, I came here, both to help train Jim and protect your home when he is unable. And to protect you, Ba-bu-rah."

He paused to figure out how best to continue. "If I may, would you please tell me what you know of your son's... current situation? So that I do not break his confidence further.

Lowering the pan once more, Barbara walked down the basement steps, but still kept her distance from the troll. She eyed him with suspicious contemplation.

"'Alright," she agreed, and began to explain the contents of Jim's letter.

This meeting started a friendship, of sorts, and Barbara learned a bit more about her trials and successes as the Trollhunter. He stayed away from being specific, especially after she told him that she wanted Jim to tell her, himself. She held to this resolve, even after Draal told her why Jim was keeping all of this secret from her. The troll didn't seem to have the best understanding of the emotional matter in question, but agreed, all the same. Instead, Draal told her about himself and Jim's other troll friends and allies, and of troll culture.

Barbara also asked that he not tell Jim of their meeting, and Draal did seem to understand that. She did feel bad for making him keep the secret. He seemed to not be big on secrets. But she didn't tell Draal that she had known of Trolls before Jim became the Trollhunter. That would be too much to expect the troll to deal with.

Chapter Text

"Draal," Jim muttered sleepily.

A grumble was the only response.

Jim puched at his friend, who had decided to take a nap basically on top of him. Okay, so Jim had been the first one to fall asleep. Sue him, training had been particularly intense and exhausting this week. There hadn't been any Trollhunter missions, but Blinky wasn't about to let Jim skip out on training. Today had been particularly bad. It was Saturday, so the the teens had made their way to Trollmarket in the morning. None of them had expected the hell training that had been thrown at them. It was almost definitely because Vendel had decided to hnag arounf in the Forge to watch. Toby and Claire weren't so exhausted by the afternoon that they couldn't get home on their own. Jim, on the other hand, was completely exhausted. When he'd collapsed, and refused to try to make his legs work, Draal had just picked Jim up, and made his way to the tunnel leading to the Lake home.

Of course, given his spikes, the only practical way Draal could carry him was in his arms. Dead tired as he was, Jim hadn't been able to find it in himself to care. When they'd gotten back to the basement, Draal had tried to stand him up on his own two feet. But Jim swayed so badly that Draal had to grab his shoulder to steady him. He didn't remember anything past that.

Jim wasn't quite sure how they'd ended up like this. Draal tended to sleep on his front, arms curled loosely out in front of him. This wasn't the first time Jim had woken up here, but last time he could actually get out. But now, Draal's head was actually resting over Jim, on top of his arms, trapping Jim underneath. If he weren't so exhasuted, he could probably push the troll's head enough to either move him, or wake him. But his arms and legs felt like noodles after training—for the first time in a while—and Jim didn't have the strength. He'd even tried changing into troll form, but that had just resulted in wings at uncomfortable angles, not freedom.

So here he was, trying to wake his friend up, because Draal had chosen a spot too close to the furnace, and Jim was boiling. 

He raised his voice. "Draal. Draal. You have to wake. up."

"Huh?" Draal muttered, groggy.

"Let me out, dude," Jim groaned, pushing at the troll's unmoving head. "I know trolls don't sweat, but it is hot in here, right? It's can't just be me."

Still half asleep, and woefully ignorant of the possible implication, Draal grumbled "It's you."

Jim froze. His eyes flew wide. "What...?" His mouth didn't quite close after the inquiry.

Draal lifted his head finally, blinking down at the gobsmacked form of the Trollhunter.

"I said it's only you feeling hot. You humans insist on wearing so much cloth on your bodies," he said, critical. Or at least he thought that was what he'd meant. 

Jim closed his mouth. That... made more sense. But why hadn't Draal just said that? Okay, so Jim couldn't expect the troll to understand what that could have meant in human terms. 

But. Still. He could have done without the misunderstanding even if it was only in his own head. Awkward.

Confusion and awkwardness lingering, Jim didn't reply, just pushed at Draal's head. The troll grumbled and lifted his head, letting Jim escape his over-heated prison. Afterwards, Draal seemed to decide that it was definitely still naptime, and settled back down, though not without a parting sentiment.

"Did you plan on telling your mother, today?" the troll grumbled.

It didn't take as long for Jim to realize he was still in troll form. He was getting better about that, he promised.