Hi, guys.

Finally got that chapter done.

So, this is a bit of filler, more or less.

Uh... I don't really know what to say besides thanks for toughing out the month long hiatus.

Still really sorry about the wait.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

I do not own Trollhunters.

The last time she could remember her parents scolding her harshly was way back in sixth grade when she'd gotten a C on her math test. She remembered them standing over her, her dad wearing a disappointed face and her mom looking furious.

They'd blamed it all on her favorite cartoons and playing with her friends. She'd argued, of course, so they'd grounded her for a whole month. Of course, after that, 11-year-old her had been scared and desperate, so she'd studied day and night to appease her parents. Eventually, they let her do all the fun things she loved again, but that fear of punishment always lingered over her head like a storm cloud in the distance.

Now, however, the storm cloud was raining on her and she doubted she could appease her parents so easily this time.

"I don't understand. You're a good girl, Claire," her mom said. "Why would you run off and do God-knows-what?"

They were in the living room; her sitting down on the couch and her parents standing over her. Almost a perfect reflection of five years ago. She kept eye contact with them, knowing her mom would tell her to look up if she didn't.

"I'm not doing anything, mom," she said, holding back her frustration.

"Then why are you out all the time? Who are you with?"

"No one." Trolls.

Her mom stared her down. She stared back, but with less anger and more fear. Her dad looked between them, definitely on her mom's side, but not totally against her.

"Come on, mi amor. We don't need to get loud."

"Our daughter is running around town when we're not home and you're not worried?"

"Of course, I'm worried, Ophelia. ¡Tengo mucho miedo!" he confessed, face falling and a sudden tiredness coming over him.

She looked at her dad, a tidal wave of guilt washing over her.

"But if it's a boy, then I'm going to be very mad!" he declared, snapping his head and jabbing a finger at her.

"What? A boy?"

"Yes, a boy."

"Papá, I don't have a boyfriend."

"I always see you talking and hanging out around boys at school."

"Papá!" she cried, more offended than anything else. "I have friends that our boys, but not a boyfriend. I've only ever hanged out with Jim."

She shut her mouth immediately and turned her head down, but she could already feel her parents shooting her looks.

"Jim?" her mom asked.

She tensed up, shoulders hunching and head sinking. "I, uh… Y-Yeah, Jim… from school."

She tried acting innocent, shooting them a smile and stifling the urge to turn red. Yet, she felt the corner of her lips quivering and the sweat forming on her brow while her face turned as hot and as bright as the sun.

Risking a glance up, she looked at her parents and found neither of them buying her charade.

"So, you've been sneaking out with this boy?"

"Wh-What? No!" she cried out, heading shaking and hands in the air. "No! No! No! He's just a friend. We're not- I'm not- He just-"

She tried telling them that they were friends and she definitely did not see him as anything more, but her words just tumbled out and spilled out. So, she shut her mouth again and breathed in deep. "I've... only hung out with him once; during lunch yesterday. I was helping him with his Spanish presentation."

Her dad dropped his crossed arms, but not the concern on his face. "Then why are you always out, mija?"

"Well, I just… like to rehearse outside."

They blinked. Her dad tilted his head and her mom dropped her arms, both their faces taking on confused looks.

"What?" her mom asked. "Claire, you have a bedroom for a reason."

"Y-Yeah, I know, but… well, you know that cliff that my friends and I like to go to-"

Alarm flashed across her mom's face immediately and she cried out, "Claire!"

"What?" she asked, flinching. "It's nice up there, and it feels like a stage."

That wasn't a lie. When she practiced her lines in her room, it felt so… mundane. Yet, whenever she had gone up there to that cliff overlooking Arcadia, it just felt so magical and wondrous. It was like a real stage and she was the star actress under the sun's spotlight. It also helped that Darci and Mary, whenever they went with her up there, usually clapped to her performances.

Claire shook her head lightly and looked back up at her parents. Both were looking at her, uncertainty written all over their expression. She didn't blame them. It was pretty hard for her to believe that she walked from school to the cliff every day. However, the lack of any opposing evidence pretty much pushed them to concede to her excuse.

"Well… Er…."

For once, her mom looked like she was at a loss for words. Her dad, on the other hand, had his face covered as he sighed.

Twiddling with her thumbs, she timidly looked up and asked, "So… can I go to my room now?"

After a scolding, some negotiations, and a final settlement on her texting them on her whereabouts and not going to 'the cliff' every day after school anymore, her parents finally let her out of their sight.

She was thankful for that. The intensity of their scathing gazes had almost incinerated her.

Flopping down on her bed, she sighed and groaned and let relief flood through her body at finally resting after an entire day of running from one situation into another.

Speaking of which, there was a quiet set of chittering coming from her nightstand.

Looking over, she met the gnome's eyes and gave it a tired look. The gnome, in return, mumbled something and went back to playing with its pen… Wait.

She shot up straight and looked at Mr. Strickler's pen, and then at the gnome. Their gazes met, and she narrowed her eyes.

"That's not yours!" she said and pointed an accusing finger. "That's Mister Strickler's."

The gnome looked at her, then her finger, then at the pen in its hands. Then, it blew a raspberry and laughed. She might've turned a little red, to say the least. "Hey!"

She swiped at the gnome, but it scurried back and jumped off her dresser. Before it could fly off into some hidden corner of her room, though, she slid off her bed and grabbed one end of the pen.

The gnome growled and tried tugging it out of her hands, but she just pulled back. They struggled for a few seconds, but there was an audible click before she felt the pen's cap come off.

Claire cried out in surprise as she fell backwards, landing on her butt and hitting her back against the side of her bed. Groaning, she rubbed her spine and glared at the gnome.

The gnome, however, did not look back at her. Instead, it stared at the pen cap in its hands. She followed its gaze, and then looked down at the rest of the pen, herself. A strange, bronze key engraved with trollish-looking markings glinted back at her.

"What in the world?" she breathed. "Did you know this was here?"

Across from her, the gnome shook his head and babbled something before handing her the pen cap. She took it without a word, still baffled.

Why is this in here? Why would Mr. Strickler need this? What does it even unlock?

She scratched her head and capped the pen. "Question for another day- Ah!"

She let out a small scream at the sound of something hitting her window. On instinct, her hand flew to her pocket and she dug around for the Amulet. By the time she pulled it out, though, whatever had tried attacking her window had vanished; only to hit it again.

She managed to stifle her second scream and stand up, pocketing the pen. Mustering her courage, she held the Amulet up and readied herself to call the incantation, but when the third hit sounded, she furrowed her brow.

"Is someone throwing rocks at my window?"

With a frown and a mental list of all the people would could possibly be trying this high school drama cliché, she opened her window and peered outside. Honestly, she was expecting Darcy or Mary to be holding some pebbles, or even Steve, seeing as he usually pulled out every romance cliché out of a cheesy, teen drama. However, instead of any of her classmates standing outside, there was one Blinky and one Aaarrrgghh hiding among the shrubbery beside her house.

"Blinky?" she hissed, and he lit up with a grin.

"Master Claire!" he called, but then cringed and peeked to his right and left. Lowering his voice, he called again, "Master Claire, you missed your training again!"

"I know!" she whisper-shouted back. "My parents are on to me!"

He tilted his head. "Onto you? I did not realize humans of your age still required, er-... 'babysitting', was it?"

She shot him a confuddled look. "What? No, I mean they know I'm sneaking out all the time!"

While he hummed and rubbed his chin, she looked over her shoulder at her bedroom door. She didn't hear her parents in the hall or anyone calling her name. They were probably still downstairs. Still, she didn't want to have to explain why she was whisper-yelling out her window, especially after explaining how she didn't have a boyfriend.

"Blinky!" She snapped her fingers. "Blinky! Hey, Blinky! Meet me in the backyard!"

Before he could argue, she shut her window. Looking to her left, she spied the gnome sitting on a couple throw pillows, watching the scene with interest.

"Uh, stay here," she instructed. "I'll… bring up some food for you… or something."

With that, she left her room and made her way downstairs. She crept more than walked, a little too afraid of her parents' wrath still. Thankfully, her dad was too busy playing with Enrique and her mom was too busy talking on the phone to notice her sneaking downstairs and out the backdoor.

Outside, the night was filled with moonlight and the sound of chirping insects; and also, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh rustling the bushes nearby.

"Master Claire," Blinky called, "over here."

Crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, she strode over to him.

"So then, your mother is keen to your nightly activities?" he asked.

"Yes," she sighed. "Apparently, my neighbor's seen me coming home late and she told my parents about it, so… I'm grounded."

"I don't see how restricting you to the ground is much of a punishment," Blinky remarked. "Do humans fly?"

She glared at him. Why couldn't conversations with trolls just be easy?

"Okay, look," she said sternly, "I can't just run off and be the Trolhunter. I've told you that before."

He took offense to that, apparently, seeing as he shot her an aghast look. "But, Master Claire, your destiny-"

"Stop saying that!" she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "I didn't want this 'destiny'! I just want to be an actress!"

Both trolls looked at her, a bit of fear in their eyes. Her cheeks flushed red and she pursed her lips, holding in her heated breath. A moment passed before she sighed and groaned and finally decided to take a seat on one of the rocks bordering her father's pepper garden.

"I'm sorry I yelled," she apologized, absentmindedly taking out the pen from her pocket. "It's just- I didn't… want to be this. I'm just an ordinary, teenage girl. Okay?"

Her eyes stayed fixed onto the ground, eyeing the grass in the moonlight. However, when she heard the soft footfalls of Blinky's stone feet on the backyard lawn, she looked up. He was offering a sympathetic smile and a guilty show of fumbling with his four hands.

"I understand that your de- predicament was suddenly placed upon you, Master Claire," he said, taking a seat beside her. "Fate rarely calls upon us at the moment of our choosing."

A hand hovered over her shoulder before giving it a light touch. She might've jumped off she didn't look at her mentor and see the softness in his face.

"Humans are different from us, trolls," he mused. "Yours is a culture of art and peace. Ours is a culture of battle and honor. I suppose that is why there has always been a divide separating our worlds."

She nodded, mouth still pursed, but face showing more understanding than stress.

"But you, Master Claire, you are the Trollhunter. The first human Trollhunter," he proclaimed with a solemn tone; and she could tell that he was holding back his usual gusto and pride. "You are the bridge between our worlds. A hero who knows both kindness and callousness."

She nodded again, looking back down at the grass with less fatigue and more thought. "Yeah… I guess."

The hand on her shoulder clasped it just a little tighter and she looked up at him again. His smile had turned from sympathetic to encouraging, getting a little bigger and a bit brighter. "Indeed, my friend. Remember, your destiny is not a burden."

"It's a gift," she finished and smiled. "Thanks, Blinky… I needed that."

"Of course, Master Claire," he said. "It would do you know good if you had a crisis of duty in the middle of your rematch with Draal."

A groan escaped her before she could stop it. "Please don't remind me of that."

She hid her face in her hands as Blinky pulled his hand from her shoulder. From between her fingers, she could see Aaarrrgghh nudging her mentor with a glare.

"Oh, yes, I apologi- Great glaring light of the sun! Master Claire, what is that?"

Suddenly startled, she jumped and looked at them both. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh looked back at her, their eyes wide and round with horror etched all over their faces.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"That," Aaarrrgghh declared and pointed at her hands.

She brought them up and studied Mr. Strickler's uncapped pen.

"Uh, my World History teacher's pen?" she said and eyed them suspiciously. "Why are you asking?"

Both trolls shared a look before Blinky clasped his hands. "That, Master Claire, is a changeling key."

She stared at him, then looked down at the pen. Her brain tickled at the familiar name. Then, she remembered the past couple nights of staying up late, studying the volumes of Troll lore she'd borrowed.

A few pages came to mind and she briefly recalled a few sentences of trolls with human disguises, as well as the titles: 'Servants of Gunmar', 'Gunmar's ears', and 'the Janus Order'.

Then, she looked down at the pen again; this time with wide eyes. She opened her mouth, but all she managed to utter was, "What?"

"It would appear, that your teacher may very well be a changeling in disguise," Blinky said and she gave him a stupefied look.

"Wh-What? No! No, that's not- No!" she sputtered, hands gripping her head. "Mister Strickler can't be a changeling, he's so- so nice and helpful and he's dating Jim's mom!"

She stopped herself there.

Wait, why does Jim's mom matter? Why am I thinking about Jim?

She shook her head to clear it. Then, she met Blinky's gaze again and crossed her arms. "Look, there's… there's just no way that Mister Strickler can be a changeling. Maybe he just found the pen at a garage sale; or something."

Blinky shook his head in argument and crossed his arms too—all four of them. "Highly unlikely. While we, trolls, are secretive of our existence, changelings are thrice so; or rather, a hundred-fold. They go to further and more deplorable lengths to keep themselves hidden from both our worlds."

His wording was as extravagant and regal as ever, yet she couldn't help but think of what 'deplorable' meant. Thanks to her previous reading of Troll lore, though, she had a pretty good idea.

Yet, she couldn't even dream up any situation that would have Mr. Strickler doing something horrible or evil. The best she could come up with was imaging him giving her an F for no reason.

She shook her head again. "But, there's- Ugh. You know what? Fine. I'll prove he's not a changeling."

"And how do you plan on achieving this task?"

"I just need a… Giggle-Tick, right?"

The disappointment washed over his face, and she shrunk at his condescending look. "It is pronounced Gaggle-tack, Master Claire."

"Okay. Sorry," she said, holding up her hands. "But, I just need one of those to prove he's just a human, right?"

"Or to reveal his deception," Blinky added with a raised finger. "Either way, we must equip you with one at once!"

"Claire?"

Claire jumped up immediately at the sound of her dad's voice.

"Mija, are you out there?"

She stared at the front door, then glanced at her troll friends.

"Uh… ¡Sí, papá!" she called. "I'm just practicing outside!"

"Alone? In the dark?"

A silhouette appeared in the backdoor. She gestured hastily at Blinky and Aaarrrgghh.

"Yeah! It's not too dark out!"

She heard the backdoor opening just as the trolls disappeared into the dark of the brush.

"Claire, I can barely see out here," her dad said, walking over with Enrique in his arms. "Come inside before it gets too cold too."

"Alright," she said and followed him inside, stealing glances over her shoulder all the way.

Usually, the Lake household was quiet at night, save for the buzzing of some movie or tv show that Jim had turned on while he worked on his homework. Tonight, though, his home was filled with the muffled laughter of his mom—who'd covered her food-filled mouth—and the pleasant laughter of his World History teacher.

"And I said to him, 'Truly, you must be a master at the art of discipline if you can handle a single, problematic student with such prowess!'"

Sitting beside his mom, across from Mr. Strickler, Jim cracked a smile and gave a small, awkward laugh. Meanwhile, his mom swallowed her food and gave a full laugh filled with mirth and amusement. She didn't seem to notice him shrinking down while she and his teacher laughed, but she did notice when he poked his food.

"Is something wrong, Jim?" she asked, the bright joy gone from her face. "You usually eat up your plate."

Caught, like a deer in headlights, he combed his brain for something to give them.

"No. No, I'm alright," he said, leaning away when she tried to feel his forehead. "Just… thinking about things. That's all."

She raised an eyebrow and he gave an anxious smile.

Before she could press further, however, their dinner guest cut her to the chase. "And by things, do you mean Ms. Nuñez, Young Atlas?"

He must've turned as red as the tomatoes he'd used in the salad they were eating. There was literally no other way to explain why his face was as hot as the sun. Or why his mom was smirking so smugly.

"How are things with… um, Claire, right?"

"Y-yeah, her name's Claire," he stammered, a little, too-very-much embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of the two adults, "and things are… alright."

His mom tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"Well… great." He gave a goofy grin and rubbed the back of his neck. "She kinda helped me with my Spanish presentation today."

Surprise took his mom's face, widening her eyes and raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Y-Yeah," he said, still wearing the goofy grin. "We met up during lunch yesterday and she helped me check my spelling and grammar and stuff…."

"Well that was nice of her," his mom said before chewing on some of her salad. "Maybe she likes you too."

His heart jumped to his throat and he almost choked on it. Suddenly, he was feeling a lot hotter and he tugged the collar of his shirt down to let some of the heat out.

"I-... You th-think?"

Mr. Strickler cleared his throat then, drawing their eyes to him. "Well, we cannot speak for Miss Nuñez, but when a young lady offers to spend time with you, it often means she's taken a liking to you."

The sarcasm was palpable in his voice and Mr. Strickler couldn't help but crack a smile. His mother giggled and tried to keep a straight face while he just slumped in his seat, embarrassed.

"Gee, thanks, Mister Strickler."

His World History teacher chuckled. "I apologize, Young Atlas, but it is the truth. Perhaps, Claire does hold some feelings of affection towards you. I've noticed her stealing glances at you every now and then."

Claire looked at him? Like how he looked at her? ...Okay, that sounded weird; but could she actually, maybe—potentially—be interested in him too?

He fiddled with his fingers under the table and shifted anxiously in his seat. Thoughts ran through his head, a few doubtful and others dreamy. More than one image popped up of him asking Claire out and her swooning over him with Steve falling to his knees in the background.

Jim smirked at his salad until his mom cleared her throat. She was giving him a strange look and he turned red again.

"Uh, sorry, I-"

Before he could finish, a ringtone went off from Mr. Strickler's side of the table and his World History teacher pulled out his phone. The table was silent while they watched him skim over something on his phone. Then, he sighed and stood up.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "but I'm afraid my time here is up." He pushed in his chair and gave a bow. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"You're always welcome here, Mister Strickler," his mom said as she got up too.

In one swift motion, he took his mom's hand a pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I thought we were past formality, Barbara."

She blushed. "I'm sorry, Walt."

Jim looked between them, eyes just a little wide and stomach definitely flipping. The awkwardness meter had shot sky high and he really needed to do something before they started making out on the dinner table.

Okay, don't need that image in my head.

He shook his head and coughed loudly. The adults turned their attention to him and he darted his eyes between the both of them. Mr. Strickler coughed and fixed the collar of his turtleneck while his mom flushed red.

"Um, I'm going to start cleaning up," he said and took their plates. "Goodbye, Mister Strickler."

"Goodbye, Young Atlas," he said, "I'll be sure to see you in class tomorrow."

He gave his World History teacher an awkward smile before he got up. Stacking the plates and putting their forks on top, he took them to the kitchen and turned on the faucet. As he grabbed the sponge and started washing the dishes, he listened in on his mom saying her goodbyes.

His stomach was still flipping, probably doing somersaults—forward and backwards—at this point. He liked spending more time around his teacher. Mr. Strickler was just so nice and kind, but… it was super awkward and super weird seeing him flirt with his mom.

He squeezed another dab of soap onto the sponge and scrubbed off the ranch on a plate. Down the hall, he heard the front door shut and his mom stride back over to the dining room. A minute later, she set down the bowl of salad and brought an armful of cups to him.

"I'll finish the dishes if you want to put away the leftovers," she said.

He shrugged. "Alright."

Drying his hands after washing off the suds, he traded places with his mom. He grabbed the ceramic wrap from one of the cabinets while she scrubbed their plates. They stayed quiet for a moment, silently working the routine they'd done for years.

Then, though, he noticed his mom glanced at him. The moment he made eye contact, she looked away, but then sighed. "Jim, I'm sorry if dinner was… awkward for you."

He shrugged again. "It's… fine."

He wrapped up the salad bowl but stopped before picking it up when he heard the faucet turn off. Looking over, he met his mom's gaze again.

"Jim," she said and pursed her lips. "I… I know this is strange and weird for you, but-"

"He makes you happy, mom," he finished, giving a small smile. "That's all that matters to me."

She stared at him, a dubious expression covering her face before it turned into a soft, glowing one of contentment. "Thank you, Jim."

"No problem, mo-"

Before he could finish, he heard a crash from outside. Both he and his mom jumped at the noise, but he narrowed his eyes a second after.

"Racoons," he growled and walked over to the backdoor, grabbing the broom next to it. "I'll deal with them."

He opened the door and walked outside, his mom's voice following him, "Be careful, Jim! You never know if they have rabies or not!"

It was dark out, but thanks to the moonlight he could see the outline of most things in his backyard: the shed, a tree, their old grill, and the fence lining around it all. However, all the details of his surroundings were hidden from him and he squinted his eyes vainly in an attempt to make out the shapes of any racoons.

"Come on," he mumbled, holding the broom up. "Where are you?"

A rustling sounded near him and he darted his head over. He gave a cry and smacked his broom down on a bush but found it empty. He frowned and pulled the broom back, then turned around, right into Mr. Strickler.

"Ahh!" he screamed.

"Young Atlas! Calm yourself!" his teacher said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "It's only me."

He looked the older man over and patted his shoulders to make sure he was real before he started sputtering, "I- Wh-Why- What are you doing in my backyard?"

Mr. Strickler, in turn, pursed his lips and took a breath. "I apologize, but I while I was entering my car, a few ungraded papers I'd forgotten to put in my bag flew out. I attempted to retrieve them, but..." He shook his head while Jim kept staring. "Do me a favor, would you, Jim? If you find those papers, could you return them to me?"

"I… uh, sure?" he replied, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head.

Mr. Strickler smiled and strode towards the backyard gate, opening it effortlessly. "Oh, and do remember to lock your gate next time."

With that, he disappeared, leaving Jim to stand in the night. A minute or two passed before he processed what had just happened. Then, with a bit of unease in the pit of his stomach, he made his way inside. The whole way in, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that he as being watched.

Alright, end of the chapter.

Next time's the museum trip.

Gonna divert a lot from canon in there.

I'm pretty excited for that chapter.

In response to 'The Sapphire One':

Sorry that this is a month after you said you did the thing, but it's awesome that you did it.

And to answer your question: To get an account, all you have to do is go to the top right of your browser on the webpage.

There should be a prompt to create an account, and all you'll need to do is type your username, password, and use an e-mail address.

Back to the Author's Note.

So, my first semester in my junior year of college is coming up.

Wish me luck, guys.

I'll still be working on writing and uploading chapters, but the updates will be slower.

On the bright side, I'll be sitting on campus between classes, so that gives me tons of time to put my undivided attention on writing.

So, it's a 50/50 on whether or not I'll start churning things out.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

Favorite and Follow if you haven't and would like to stay updated; and leave a Review if you've got some nice words, ideas, or constructive criticism to share.

Sincerely,
Apex Primus