Chapter 8: Into the Night
Jim stood there next to his locker, just glaring at the clock across the courtyard. It was almost noon … and his mom was probably already at the restaurant with Strickler. In fact, they were probably sitting down and smiling at each other right now like lovesick teenagers. His mom had likely giggled when Strickler commented her hair again and … the big hand finally clicked over onto the twelve and it was officially noon. His mom was officially on her first not-date with Strickler. It seemed that Aphrodite would not be denied in this timeline.
Sticking his head into his locker, Jim screamed.
Toby, standing next to him, nearly dropped his phone onto the cement below.
"Woah, Jimbo. I know you forgot to make lunch for us again, but its only meatloaf day. It's not like its fish sticks day," said Toby as he patted Jim on the back, the taller teenager bent over in his locker as if he was hiding from all the students that were now staring at them.
Sighing, pulling his head out of his locker, Jim wiped a hand down his face. "It's not the rubbery meatloaf, Tobes … It's just … I couldn't change anything. Even though I basically begged my mom not to go meet with Strickler, she still went. Why did she go?! He's evil."
Toby gave Jim a look, sighing as he patted his friend on the arm, "Jim, Jim, Jim. I know Mr. S's class can be a little … dry … once in a while, but I wouldn't call him evil. And, quite honestly, after that fiery beauty of avocados pickup line followed by that eye make out moment those two had, there was no stopping them. You're lucky that it was only Strickler and not say, Coach Lawrence."
Looking even more horrified, Jim squawked, "What do you mean: eye makeout?! My mom wouldn't do that in front of me."
Shaking his head, still patting his friend's arm, Toby continued, "I was there, Jimbo. I saw the eye makeout. And Mrs. L is kind of hot so I can't blame Mr. S."
"Tobes," said Jim, horrified as he was slowly led to the cafeteria. "Don't say that about my mom."
Putting his hand up in defense, Toby continued, "I'm just saying, your mom is a hot lady and she's single. Mrs. L was bound to jump back onto the dating caboose sooner or later. Like I said, at least it's not Coach Lawrence. Can you imagine? It would be like gym glass … forever."
Jim rolled his eyes at his friend's horrified gaze as he grumbled, "She can't date Coach Lawrence … because Steve's mom already is."
Toby actually dropped his phone this time, "Wwwwwwwhhaaaat?"
The taller teenager immediately cringed. Shit. Had that happened yet? Probably. Since the Coach was apparently living with Steve's mom. That just doesn't happen overnight.
"We are getting off track, Tobes. Seriously, what am I going to do? My mom can't date him," whined Jim, ignoring Toby's obvious shock about Coach Lawrence and the school bully.
Finally picking up his phone, eyeing the screen for cracks, Tobias waved his hand, "I don't get the upset, bro. I mean, didn't you used to like Mr. S? It can't be that bad."
"It can Tobes! It can. What part of he's evil don't you understand?!" added Jim as he resisted the urge to grab his friend and shake him in the middle of the hall.
Personally, Jim wished he could just tell Toby everything that had happened in his last life, but he also felt the sting of that loss. it was like an open wound. He didn't want Tobias feeling that loss as well. After all, every night when the sun set, he missed Blinky's almost fatherly warmth and Aaarrrgghh reassuring presence. He also missed Draal's odd friendship and even Vendel's snarky one-liners. It ached. It was like he had lost a limb or something. Toby had so few friends as it was … how would he feel knowing that Jim stole his wing-man from him and the budding relationship with Darci?
It wouldn't be fair to him. Some things … were better bore alone.
In the end, if he had to admit anything at all, he would just claim he had dreamed about trolls and changelings. But, for now, he would spare his friend those burdens. It wasn't like he had the power to get truly involved in that world again anyway. Even though, said world, might be after him.
Jim knew a troll or likely a changeling had hunted down his mom, and then there was the scrying crystal last night. By now, Strickler probably had it back. Now, not only was there a Fetch he somehow had to deal with, but he needed to get the scrying crystal. This was all his fault! Why had he taunted Bular at the bridge? That would be the only reason anyone would bother hunting him down and his mom had suffered for it. Unless it was all a coincidence which he doubted.
"Why? Why? Why is this happening?!," finally said Jim as he reached up and squeezed his head between his hands, his mind running circles around itself.
"Hey, hey, buddy. It's okay," said Toby as he stalled them both in the hall. "I get it. Step parents suck, no one wants one, but it's just one date. Don't get ahead of yourself. Your mom might hate him and his suave silver fox thing going on."
Jim gave Toby a look.
"What? I calls it as I sees it," defended his portly friend. "Anyway, if it does get serious, we'll just work on your … angry teenager phase or something. We'll get you nothing but black clothes, fake piercing and teach you how not to shower. Maybe throw some skulls around your room. I know that might be hard for you and your boy scout morals, but I'm sure we can create a rift if needed."
Beside himself, Jim cracked a tired smile, asking, "Skulls huh? Are we going to start a rock band while we are at it?"
Waving his hand in the air, Toby said, "Sure, I'll play the triangle and you can play the recorder. We'll be the Acting Out Lame-Boys or Gonna Die Alone Kids band. In fact, I'm sure I can even get us a gig."
…
Draal groaned and rolled over slightly, the aching of his head causing him to hiss as he pushed his face into his bed furs. This place smelled like him … but it also smelled of dust. He immediately opened his non-swollen eye to see where he was and instantly regretted it. He was in his old room from when he was a whelp … and his father was asleep in a chair next to his bed.
For a moment, he was confused as to why he was in his old room, having moved out a decade or two ago to step up his training and prove that he was a worthy heir. He also may have done so to escape whomever his father had assigned to be his handler while he was off in other corners of the world. All Draal wanted to do was combat training, but most of his handlers were noncombative and wanted to show him their specialties.
It … had hurt. It was like his father didn't think he could be a capable warrior or a worthy successor. After all, artisans instead of retired warriors were assigned to look after him. The only thing of value he got from any of them was YeOwh the Bard, father of BaaAch. BaaAch had practically been dragged along to be Draal's friend after all.
So, his horns growing in, Draal was forced to look elsewhere. The only other troll in his life besides his increasingly busy father was the renowned General, Aaarrrgghh. The green troll had been Draal's first stop when he noticed his father hadn't the time to show him how to properly throw a spear.
Aaarrrgghh had frowned at his request for training and declined, saying something about learning to solve problems without violence and pacifism. Draal didn't understand what a pacifist was at the time and all he heard was no. He even went to Blinky after that, looking for someone to accept his quest for knowledge. Blinky had merely introduced him to great warriors in books and poems. It hardly did anything to soothe his injured pride.
So, partially to gain his father's attention, he had moved into his own dwelling. He was considered a young adult after all. And thus, he propelled himself forward on sheer determination. He had become self-made and hoped his actions would prove him worthy to stand by his father's side.
It had not.
His father, if anything, had at first seemed disappointed when he finally came back from the old caves of Europe. And so, Draal pushed himself harder and grew into what he though a proud warrior should be. A desperation had set in at this point … along with a slow forming bitterness. Not for his father. Never his father. His father was important. Protecting the Troll Realm came first, but … just a few moments of his time here and there. That's all he wanted. Just … a little praise.
He just wanted his father to look at him.
Feeling tears threaten to gather in his eyes, the young warrior buried his face deeper into his bed furs to gather himself. He was not so weak that he needed to cry like a whelp. He would not. He was enough of a disgrace the way it was, already having lost to Bular.
And yet, when he heard the chair next to his bed groan as his father woke up, he couldn't keep the tears in. In fact, his pride was pushed over the edge when his father reached out and touched his arm, asking worriedly, "Draal, are you alright?"
And that was all it took. Draal the Destroyer was now a whelp again as he felt tears spring free. In shame, he buried his face deeper still into his bed furs. He was an adult. He didn't need to cry. His father did nothing wrong. His father was the Trollhunter and was needed elsewhere. He was the only one at fault here. He needed to pull himself together. He …
"Draal? My son. Is something wrong? Are you in pain?" continued his father's voice, a large paw being placed under his chin to encourage him to look up.
Beside himself, unable to deny the being he admired in every way, Draal allowed his father to tilt his face out of the furs. He allowed his idol to see the forming tears that dare fall from their inner sanctum as well as the swollen and scraped side of his face.
Kanjigar, unable to stop himself, looked at his son with a mixture of pity and horror, finally seeing the bruised and scraped side of Draal's face. In fact, one eye was nearly swollen shut and part of his head was wrapped in bandages.
Draal said the only thing he could think of before Kanjigar could even muster a sentence. "I'm sorry, father. I failed you … I am not worthy to be your heir."
Brow furrowing, the older troll cupped the unmarred side of Draal's face before his son could turn away. Then, taking a large thumb, he wiped away one of those rare tears. A silence was quickly allowed to hang in the air. Draal was close to sobbing when Kanjigar finally found the right words to say, for he would not allow one word to die in his throat or be unspoken. For, like the hooded boy had warned him, he didn't have forever.
Wiping another tear away, Kanjigar spoke in a soft voice, "My son … the only one that should feel ashamed here, is I. I am just happy that you came home alive. In fact, you are twice as skilled as I was at your age. I am proud of you … as well as very ashamed that I did not tell you sooner. I … am sorry for not acknowledging you sooner. You are becoming a fine troll."
Swallowing thickly as numerous emotions battled in his gut, Draal choked, "But I am not a warrior, am I? You've known since I was a whelp. Aaarrrgghh and Blinky knew as well that I wasn't worthy of the title. That's why you never had time to train me and kept having artisans watch me. You all knew I wasn't built to be a warrior such as yourself."
Sighing, hating himself for allowing his son's self-doubt to grow into this, Kanjigar lifted his other arm and carefully cupped the other side of Draal's head so that his son would not look away. He wanted Draal to look at him, to see his atonement. "It is not that I didn't think you could be a warrior. I knew that you could … I just wanted you to have a choice. The amulet didn't give me much of one, so I wanted my son to be whatever he wanted. Be it a bard to a record keeper. Know that I am proud of you and whatever you become. If it's a warrior you wish to be, then I am happy. I will even find time to train you further if that is what you wish."
Sitting up, his head still being held in his father's grasp, he almost sobbed in relief, "T-thankyou, father. That is all I ever wanted."
Smiling softly, hating himself for taking so long to tell his son something so simple and how much he was beloved, Kanjigar added, "Come now, my son. No need for such sad tears anymore. Share a moment with your father."
Then, feeling like he hadn't embraced his son in a millennium, Kanjigar leaned forward and knocked horns with his son, their foreheads meeting in a show of affection and love. For a moment, that was all they did, their foreheads touching as Draal's breathing became calm and clear.
The moment felt like it could last forever, a single instant of perfect calm ... until Draal came to a realization. His father was supposed to be in bed.
Slowly, he pulled away, eyeing his father critically with a frown. Part of him was now wondering if he should crawl out of his bed and demand his father lie down. Draal might be half blind at the moment with an aching head, but he still felt his father's injuries were far more pressing than his.
So, he asked apprehensively, "Father … are you allowed to be out of bed? I'm surprised Vendel let you leave your furs even with me injured. Did … you sneak up here?"
Scoffing, Kanjigar groused, "Of course I can be out of bed … but only if I am at your side."
Draal raised a brow, wondering how much bargaining it took just for Vendel to allow that.
"Which is why," added Kanjigar, smirking slightly as he peaked at the doorway and then at the window in Draal's room, "we should leave before they check on us. As long as I am at your side, I am not disobeying Vendel now am I?"
Almost gapping at his father's underhanded suggestion, Draal begged, "Father … you wouldn't dare."
"Yes, I would. It is far time the Trollhunter departed. Now, my son, grab your old sword set. It's in the corner I believe … and then help your slightly injured but fully capable father out the window. We have a prophet to find before Aaarrrgghh or Blinky come to check on us."
Draal resisted the urge to laugh, pride blooming in his chest. He hadn't hunted with his father in ages so he hoped their search would be fruitful. And with that, he put his old sword set on his back and then proceeded to help the Trollhunter out of the window.
…
"I can't believe I'm breaking and entering on a school night," said Jim to himself as he pulled on a thick black glove. Thankfully, he had enough dark clothes to begin with. He was sure part of his ensemble was a previous Gun Robot villain's cosplay from that convention Tobias and he had gone to. The two of them had wanted to be original so they had dressed as one-episode-only villains. Their costumes had done pretty well. He even had a hood despite the hockey mask that was on his bed just waiting to be fitted to his face.
He still couldn't believe what he was doing, but he had to get the Fetch and that scrying crystal. Strickler may have merely walked over to them only to chat with his mom … or he could have been trying to get the crystal to point at them. Either way, he needed to grab it and the Fetch.
"And while you are at it, why don't you grab a piece of the bridge, Jimbo and defeat Bular, again," grumbled the teenager at himself before he stopped affixing his dark clothing. He then buried his head in his hands and swallowed. This needed to be done, armor or not, and then he was finished.
Personally, part of him just wanted to go and knock at the entrance of Troll Market and tell Kanjigar to deal with this, but he didn't want to interfere too much. He didn't want to be sucked in again. He was given his chance for a semi-normal life, and he wasn't going to mess it up again by being anything other than anonymous.
"Now, just wait for mom to go to bed," said Jim as he looked at the clock. It was barely nine-thirty. Ugh, he thought it would take longer to put his getup together, but nooo. Well, he could crawl out his window he supposed.
Putting his hockey mask on for face in case he fell face first into the ground, the lanky teenager opened his window and slipped out with a hockey stick and backpack on. He had a few oddities like a pan (he now had an incomplete set after all), some rope he fashioned into a grappling hook and a few fireworks as a distraction. He still felt terribly under-equipped for breaking and entering, but he knew the territory already and even if one of the goblins saw him, he had his mask and hood.
He just hoped his stamina would hold out if he needed to run. He already knew that his muscle tone wasn't the same as in his past life. He … missed it. In fact, he had been dwelling on maybe joining the local dojo with Tobes. Toby was awesome with a hammer and Jim wouldn't mind picking up a sword again, even if it was a training one.
Regardless, he still had his instincts and quick reactions. It had to be enough tonight.
Slipping onto the roof outside his window, the boy slid down the rain gutter and was just about to run into the woods when he suddenly had to dodge … a tennis ball?
Blinking behind his hockey mask, he yelped as he dodged two more yellow balls in quick precession, the attacker finally rolling out of a nearby bush.
"Hands in the air, you M-Michael Myers wanna-be! Did you attack Jim and his mom?! Huh? Answer me you cat burglar?!" shouted Tobes as he pointed his homemade ball-gun at the darkly clad figure that had just left his best friend's window.
Huh, he forgot Tobias owned that ball launcher. It was back from that Nerf gun phase they had gone through. Each day they would ambush each other with increasingly bigger Nerf guns until Tobias stepped it up … with the tennis ball gun. They knocked out a window or two when Jim got ahold of his mom's old tennis racket and that was the end of that.
Nonetheless, he supposed a hooded and masked figure escaping his best friend's window warranted some suspicious.
"Jim!" finally called Toby up to the open window. "Jim, are you okay?!"
Jim, at first not concerned, watched in horror as his mom perked up on the couch, Toby's yell pulling her from her partial sleep.
Not knowing what else to do, Jim lifted up his mask and tried to silence the other boy, "Sshhh! Tobes, it's me. Stop shouting!"
Stalling, lowering his ball-gun, Toby raised a brow, "Jim? Is that you? … In your old cosplay costume? What's going on?"
"Quiet, Tobes. Get down," demanded Jim as he grabbed his best friend by his pj's collar and pulled them both under the window sill as his mom peeked outside.
Slapping a hand over his friend's mouth as Toby tried to keep talking, Jim watched the silhouette of his mom's shadow on the grass for a moment until she finally closed the blinds. Likely, she was finally going to bed.
Sighing, he released Tobias' mouth and wiped the drool in the grass. Toby always was a little drooly after a visit to the dentist's office. "Dude, what's going on with you? You were weird the other day with the basement thing; then you got all weird about Strickler since he went on a date with your mom; and now you're dressed like a Batman villain."
"It's wasn't a date!" hissed Jim.
"Bro, I love you. So I gotta tell you the truth. I saw that dopey look on your mom's face when we got … home … from … school … today." Toby suddenly stopped talking and then looked from the hockey mask to the stick on the taller boy's back. His hands hurriedly grabbed Jim's jacket as if to shake him. "Jim! Killing Mr. Strickler isn't the answer. There are easier ways to keep your mom single! Mr. Strickler isn't worth it."
"What?" said Jim as he tried to peel his friend's fingers off. "I'm not going to kill him."
Though he really wanted to.
"Then why are you dressed like Freddy Krueger?! Jim, I'm your best friend, but I don't have the stamina to help you bury a body."
Rolling his eyes, a part of him a little charmed that Toby basically said he would help him bury a body, Jim defended himself … kind of. "Oh, please Tobes. If anything, I look more like a skinny Jason Voorhees. And though I have no plans to kill Mr. Strickler, I can tell you that he is assuredly evil."
Giving Jim a confused look, Toby was too his feet, "That's it. I'm waking up your mom. Your head is now in la-la carzy town. I don't think crazy runs in your family, but your mom might know."
Rushing to his feet, Jim slid in front of his best friend, putting his hands up in a show of peace, "Wait, wait. Stop Tobes. I can explain…"
So, not wanting to lose his oldest friend if he was caught in a lie, Jim told Toby the truth about him being the Trollhunter. The words escaped him like a breaking dam. His mind was so heavy he almost wanted to sob in relief for finally getting to tell someone. Mind you, he told Tobias this had all been a dream, but otherwise, he told Toby all the details he felt were relevant. Not everything, for who can stick months of their life into fifteen minutes, but he hoped it was enough that Tobes would understand that he had to go gallivanting off into the night to stop changelings and goblins.
"And that's why I'm dressed like this. I have to get the Fetch from the museum to save Claire's brother. I also need to get the scrying crystal from last night because I'm certain that was why my mom was attacked the other night in her car," finished Jim, feeling exhausted as he looked to his best friend for acceptance.
Tobe's, standing there barefoot in the cool grass with an expression between horror and awe, finally snapped his jaw shut as if in thought. "First of all … I will be changing all of my usernames to Warhammer. And second of all, I will be coming with you."
Jim, watching Toby putter towards his house, didn't know if he should be horrified or ecstatic that someone believed him. "So … you believe me that it was like a premonition or past life or something?"
Lugging his plastic gun over his shoulder, Tobes simply said, "No, I think you are crazier than a bowl of fruit loops, but as your oldest friend I can tell you won't let this rest until proven otherwise. So, let's go commit a felony. If we get caught, at least we will look bad ass. Now, give me twenty minutes. Hopefully, I sill fit in my Buzz-Zee Gun Robot cosplay. That way, if we have to take police photos, we can look awesome."
Jim was stuck between wanting to laugh and beg Tobes to stay out of it, but like with the last life, he knew he couldn't keep Tobes out of it. He could then and certainly wouldn't be able to now. So, he sat on Tobias' back step patiently as his chubby friend put something more supervillain-worthy on than break-in appropriate, but he supposed Tobias was right. If they got arrested again like in the last timeline, at least they would have some epic mug shots.
Or … they at least would look badass before being eaten.
XXX
Paw07: All the feels needed more time than usual to escape my head like the little word-gremlins they are (Huh, I wonder if the series is going to have gremlins?). I personally feel I need to blame/thank Forever-Furuba for Draal's background scene in this given the tangent we both went on. I also kind of regret leaving out Barbara and Walt's first not-date. I really love those two as a pairing regardless of how dysfunctional it is. Nonetheless, lots of buildup in this chapter … next chapter promises to be interesting for sure. Maybe. Or it might just be more buildup or a scene of Barbara making tea. Meh, as an unreliable author I'm not to be trusted. I can sometimes be a trololololol.
~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ
