Draal sharpened the blade in his hand. The metal scraped across the whetstone in time with the clash of his father's own training blade in the other room. He sighed. Another one finished, sharpened to a razor thin point, and only one more to go. As Draal reached for it a shadow scurried past. It barreled into a wall of shields and crashed to the floor amidst the clatter. He bolted off of his stool.
A purple troll sprawled in the shadow's place. Blood stained the floor beside her, and she clutched her knee with both hands, peering up at him with piercing green eyes. Like emeralds. He stood over her, axe in hand, but she didn't draw away. Instead she met his gaze with calm eyes and a sneer.
"What is your business here?" Draal demanded. He held his axe aloft towards her for a total of ten seconds, then his small arms gave out and it joined the shields on the floor.
His unwelcome visitor snorted. "Am I supposed to be scared?"
He grit his teeth.
"Look, I'll see myself out," she said. The strange troll pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, a grimace on her face. She stumbled when her knee gave out on her.
The sound of his father training ceased and Draal's eyes widened. He rushed over to her and dragged her to her feet, tossing an arm over his shoulders. She cried out when she tried to put weight on that knee. Draal helped her limp over to a chest and threw the lid open.
"Not on your life, Mud Breath," she snapped. The girl struggled to escape his grip.
He shoved her into the box of training uniforms. With a glance towards the door he pleaded to her creased eyebrows and worry etched across his face. "Quiet. Please."
As soon as he shut the lid, his father stepped through the doorway. Kanjigar brightened at the sight of his son.
"Ah, have you already finished tending to the armoury?"
Draal picked up his discarded battle axe. "All but this blade is tended to, Father."
A nod. Kanjigar propped his practice sword up on a rack and then he summoned his amulet. With a few words it became armor and his father was yet again replaced by the Trollhunter. Draal hid his face behind the axe in his hands. The Trollhunter stepped past his son, letting a hand drop to his head, and Draal glanced up, begging his eyes not to betray him.
"I'm afraid I will not be home for a few days." And with that he left.
Alone. Draal swiped his face with one hand and set down his work with the other. He slipped off of the stool and over to the chest that he left the intruder in, but when he opened it she was gone. Vanished. For the better, he decided. There wasn't any room for a shadow in his life, in Trollmarket.
He didn't need anyone else's pity.