Hello. This is just a way to practice my writing (storytelling and english spelling), so this won't be a professional story. I was very impressed by Trollhunters, Tales of Arcadia and was motivated to write a bit about it. English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for the errors. Any feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy the story! Toodles.

Note: This story begins at the end of the Trollhunters saga. I know that 3below and Witches are published, but I want to write a bit for fun and to keep up with all the details of all the three series is a bit much. Also, I just finished watching Trollhunters for the second time and I would like to continue on the emotions it gave me. Thank you for understanding!

- Tales of Arcadia is not mine. Credits to sir Del Toro. Just a fan.-

Angor Rot had lived quite a few centuries. In a human perspective you could say that he lived a long life. Not that he felt like he lived for centuries, as he spent most of those years without a soul and to top it off: trapped in forgotten Amazonian ruins.

From the moment he was released by the changeling, forced to do his bidding as that arrogant weakling was in possession of the Inferna Copula, it felt like his time on earth went by as lighting. He hunted down the Trollhunter, lost his soul, got kicked in the gronk-nuts, died, was revived by Lady Morgana, eventually betrayed her and here he was. Holding Morgana in place, the mighty daylight pierced through them both.

As the sword got smashed into pieces by Morgana, Angor's sacrificial act felt rather useless. The once human Trollhunter layed defeated between the rubble of the battle and all the other human Trollhunters were trapped by Morgana's magic, floating in the air. Angor felt himself slowly falling apart and hastily searched for a solution to finish his goal. His eyes fell on his former weapon, stolen by the female Trollhunter.

'Trollhunter! The staff!'

Claire Nuñez followed Angor's gaze and understood what she needed to do. She summoned the staff and with her last bit of energy she releasing herself from Morgana's chains, escaping through a portal. She appeared in front of her enemy and created a portal behind Morgana and Angor. Clair pointed the mighty staff towards them and blasted her omnious dark power towards them.

It looked like Morgana's fate was sealed. The battle between good and evil. The battle that lasted for centuries. The battle that started on Killahead bridge, was coming to it's final conclusion on the bridge of Arcadia.

This was it. This was Angor his last moment on earth. His stone body couldn't fight against the power of the sun any longer and he felt his life slipping away. Just before he fell apart, he noticed that Morgana did not scream anymore but turned to a quiet but determined whisper. Her body stopped resisting his grasp, eyes closed shut as she focused on the whisper. Angor's eyes widened. An incantation. He couldn't stop it, he was a few seconds from falling into pieces.

Morgana snapped her eyes open and opened her mouth.

'KRAG MAGUN NA!'

An explosion of power spread as a rapid fire on the bridge. The last thing Angor saw was Claire and the other Trollhunters being thrown back as weightless puppets and himself falling apart. Everything went black and slowly the harsh sounds of destruction began to fade away. All was quiet. Hollow and quiet. Was… was he dead?

No.

No, he knew what it felt like to be dead. Or to not feel to be exact. His first experience with death was quite… lucid. His soul was floating, existing in some realm that he couldn't recall any detailed memories from. He did not have a body anymore, as so, he did not feel a lot more then existing. Just being there, floating. It wasn't unpleasant.

This time, it was the contrary, as he still felt his body. It was dark and quiet, but for some reason he could feel his body lying on something hard. How could he still feel his body as he literally just fell into a million pieces? He could breath. He could think.

When Angor was trapped in the Amazon Temple, defeated and locked up by Merlin, there was a lot of darkness and silence too. His actions were limited to laying still, feeling the rocks upon him and the ground below. Sometimes, in the dark nights, when the birds did not sing their songs through the slowly expanding jungle and the silence became deafening, he almost got the feeling he was dead. The sensation of the rocks pressing him into the ground became a part of him. It was as normal as the molded scented air that surrounded his prison. All he could do was breath and think. That were the only two things that kept him from believing he was actually dead. He could breath and think. One that breaths lives and one that thinks exists. So he was not dead.

He was not dead. That was one question Angor could answer. He tried to focus on his breathing and gain control over it. He felt himself coming back from the darkness. Slowly but surely he could hear distance sounds of sirens, voices and moving rocks. The smell of fire reaches his nose and that seemed to bring him back to reality. That was when he felt the entirety of his position. Waves of pain went through his body as he tried to move it. Pain wasn't uncommon in his life as an assassin, but this pain was… different. Like the surface of his body was more sensitive and his insides seemed to reject the idea of him moving. He paused his action to move and instead decided to open his eyes.

His sight was blurry. There was a lot of smoke, what answered the strong smell of fire. The smoke limited his range of sight but he could see he layed on a pile of rocks. There seemed to be rocks spread as far as Angor could see. The bridge? The explosion. The explosion demolished the bridge. A big metal transportation device stuck out between the rubble, shrieking a hostile sound like an angry siren, as orange lights flashed on and off. It did not sound pleasant to his ears.

His sight started to become more clear and once again he tried to move his body, ignoring the screaming resistance it gave him. He grunted as he managed to lift his upper body into a half sitting position, smaller rocks falling off of him. He scanned his surroundings again, looking for any signs of Morgana or the Trollhunters. The possibility of him being alone in the destruction did not seem likely to Angor. Once he got used to the appalling screeching of the metal siren he could decipher voices that came somewhere through the thick layer of smoke. A voice became louder as it was heading Angor's way.

This brought him back into full focus. He did not allow himself to observe the situation anymore. It was time for action. He rolled himself up to his knees and tried to stand up, but surprisingly failed miserably. His body seemed to not work the way he was used too, which was heavy and big. Now, he felt lighter and shorter. It got him of balance and once he stood up he fell backwards, rolling off the pile of rocks he found himself on just a moment ago.

He landed on the flat hard ground, growling as he halted to a stop. Confused he quickly sat up again as he felt something was horribly wrong with him. He did not just loose balance and fall. Angor Rot did not make mistakes like that. He looked down at his legs. This observation made the fact that an unspecified potential threat was coming his way leave his mind. His legs WERE shorter… and odd. His feet were smaller and suddenly he had five toes on each feet. He rapidly held his hands in front of his face and there they were. Dumbfounded he stared at his former claws. His white, crumbled stone skin was gone and replaced by darker, fleshy skin. Human skin. Covered in dust, scratched and bruised from the explosion, but certainly human.

'What...is this madness?' he uttered as his turned his hands to observe the other side. This could not be… He touched his face and surely he felt squishy flesh on his face. His fingers felt warm on his cheeks as he moved them to his nose. It seemed to be smaller and positioned lower. He touched the top of his head, feeling a thick layer of hair. Hair… he did not have hair before. Horns shaped as an Uraeus, yes, but hair? The sensation was astonishing. His whole body felt alien to him. All he could focus on at that moment was touching his face. Fleshy ears, eyes, lips, chin, everything was made of flesh and bone. His mind was racing as he realised he just turned into a banquet for trolls.

'Sir?'

Angor immediately pulled his hands of his face and looked up towards the voice. A round, chubby human with metals on his teeth stood in front of him. Tobias, the smallest trollhunter, looked down to him with eyes of concern. The explosion did a number on him too as his armor was covered in dust and dirt as well.

'Sir, are you ok?!' Toby asked hastily. 'The whole bridge was destroyed by a HUGE blast! Dude, you are lucky you survived! And in one piece!'

Angor did not waste anymore time, as he had done enough of that. For a second time he put his feet on the ground and this time, succesfully, launched himself towards Toby. Angor pinned him to the ground, hold his arms and legs in place. Toby's warhammer slipped out of his hand and thumbled out of his reach.

'What the hell?!' Toby screamed as he tried to escape Angor's grasp.

'What is the meaning of this, hunter?!' Angor growled at him.

'Meaning?!' Toby shrieked as he tried to free himself unsuccessfully.'I-I did not blow up the bridge, I swear! Stuff just happened that you won't just understand! Magic! Trolls! Wizards! Evil floating ladies!'

'Do not deceive me or I'll rip of that metal chain of your teeth one by one!' Angor threatened him. Toby widened eyes looked hastily around him for a way to save himself. He decided to used his communication skills.

'Jim! Claire! Aaaargh! Help me! Stranger Danger! STRANGER DANGEEER!'

Angor cursed as he heard footsteps rapidly come towards them. He should have kept the boy from calling out for help. In a motion quicker then Toby could react, Angor stood up and pulled Toby with him, turned the boy around and put him in a head lock. Angor started to get a hang of controlling this human body, he noticed. Toby struggled to break free but to no avail. It pleased Angor that, even though he was smaller then he used too, he was still stronger then the chubby trollhunter.

Through the thick smoke, a blue troll in armor appeared, running towards the cry for help. Jim, the former human, halted at the sight of Toby being head locked by an unknown figure.

Angor looked at him angrily, trying to ignore the screaming head ache that made it's way into his skull. This boy was not the one Angor would choose as an opponent at this moment. His human body was weaker, smaller, and unknown to him. The trollhunter clearly won the upper hand with his troll strength. Luckily for him, Angor had the hunters loyal companion at his mercy.

'Tell me what is going on, hunter, and I might reconsider snapping your little friend's neck...' he growled. Angor's eyes locked with Jim as the trollhunter stared at him with hostile confusion.

In front of Jim stood a man with a tanned complexion and bare skinned body except for a cloth around his waist. His arms were cut and bruised, but stood firmly, holding Toby's head in place. Golden bracelets, to big for the man, hanging loosely around his wrists. Glowing, yellow eyes glared at him through dirty white locks of hair...

Glowing yellow eyes? Jim had met quite a few with glowing eyes. This man was not human.

'Who or what are you?' Jim demanded as he summoned his knifes from his armor. 'Let go of my friend!'

Angor grinned at this question. 'Don't you recognize me, hunter? You seemed to know quite well who I was when you stabbed me with that sword of yours...'

Jim almost lost the grip on his knifes. His mouth opened and he gaped at the man in front of him. 'Wait… are you- are you Angor Rot?!' he managed to ask.

'In the flesh...' Angor said.

'What?!' Toby screamed. 'Angor?! I thought you were on our side! You saved our butts not an hour ago! Why are you attacking me! Let go of me!' Toby hit his fists on Angor's arms again, more out of anger then fear this time. His legs helplessly dangling beneath him.

'Wow, how? What? Who?...' Jim stammered. 'Wait, look-' as Jim let his knifes evaporate. He knew better then to give Angor Rot a potential reason for neck snapping Toby by appearing as a threat. Jim held his hands up as a sign of peace. 'I am not here to attack you. I have no idea what is going on, I swear.'

Angor narrowed his eyes. 'You seem to know quite a lot about changing appearances, seeing your current state. Why should I believe you.'

'Merlin created a way for me to become a troll, I have no idea how it works! I just went into magical bathtub water and became a troll. I know how to fight, not how to do… this!' Jim gestured to Angor's appearance. 'Just let Toby go. I won't attack you, you've proofed on the bridge which side you are on. There doesn't have to be unnecessary bloodshed. Let me help you'

Angor continued looking at Jim, considering his options. He did not believe his word, he wasn't the trusting type, but in the current state of his body, there weren't a lot of opportunities. If he killed Toby, Jim could easily kill him in return. Angor could stay in this position, but if back up came in, they could strike him from behind. He could dodge the attack but he had to admit… his captive was starting to get substantially heavy. It would slow him down. His other option was to let go of Toby and run for it, but where would that get him? Jim could easily catch up and even if he managed to get away, he was inferior in this human situation. He knew enough about humans that if they did not take care of themselves properly they would die in less then a week. Weak, fragile humans... He also had to admit that fleeing would go against his pride. Angor Rot did not run.

This left him with one option: Accept the trollhunter's offer. Keep his guard up, look for new options and leave.

Angor released his arm around Toby's neck and stepped back. Toby fell to the ground and hastily scrabbled up to run towards Jim. He did not have to think twice about to stay out of Angor's reach.

'Thank you for understanding, Angor...' Jim nodded. He tried to sound sincere, but his suspicion was hard to cover. Jim might have exaggerated a bit when he said that he knew Angor was on his side. He needed to save Toby. Angor Rot was not just someone you could trust and make as your allie. He was not like notEnrique, who showed from the beginning that he never really liked having to work for Gunmar. Or like Dictatious, who, after being blinded by Blinky and rejected by Gunmar, ended up as no threat to any of the trollhunters.

Angor was cunning. He was malicious and skilled. Angor killed thousands… Jim had to keep his word and help him, but he had to admit: he obviously did not trust the assassin.

Angor folded his arms, straightened his back and kept his glowing eyes locked on Jim. He would show the hunter no weakness, even though his head felt like it was exploding and the scratches and bruises clearly seemed to be connected with the pain he was feeling. He also had to admit that the lack of clothing seemed to affect his temperature. Damn this weak body to hell. He signed as he held his head high.

'Now what did you have in mind, hunter?...'