Two weeks had passed since that unfortunate encounter with Kanjigar and Barbara finally calmed down as everything seemed to be back to normal. Those days were full of paranoia and being overcautious. The woman canceled all the night shifts and tried to return home before the dark so that she had an opportunity to defend her house in the cause of the attack. Each shadow seemed to hide a troll at first, but as time was passing it became quite obvious that the enemy wouldn't attack. The daughter of Gunmar had also scrapped entirely the idea of moving from Arcadia. After some consideration it became blatantly evident that the Trollhunter had no reason to look for her among fleshbags - after all, the Herald of Doom was widely known as a fleshbag hater and everyone would never guess her current method of hiding. So laying low for a while would be more than enough to throw Kanjigar and his allies off her track.
Running away would only traumatize Jim more. The mother had no right to do that - her dear boy had nothing to do with the baggage from her past.
Sometimes Barbara was genuinely surprised herself how much she cared for her son. Centuries ago the only idea of having an offspring felt stupid - yes, it was inevitable as she had to continue the Gunmar's line, but still too troublesome even to bother. Having one with a fleshbag? Well, that one was simply repulsive and quite deranged. The woman definitely was disgusted when she learned that something that blasphemous was even possible and not just a delirious fantasy of some madman.
When did it happen? Oh yes, it was one of those things the elder witch Tabitha told the daughter of Gunmar during her stay in the village.
Barbara had never learned if that kind of conversation came up spontaneously or the witch had some kind of hidden agenda. The beginning of it was rather random in any case. They both were walking through the village when some local kids ran up to the elder and started bothering her with all kinds of silly questions. It took a while as those annoying brats refused to let Tabitha go. The worst thing was that some of them took an interest in Barverra and any attempt to scare them off ended in pathetic failure.
In the end, the local children got bored or something and ran away and the daughter of Gunmar couldn't help grumbling:
"Finally! I thought they'd never shut up!"
"It looked like you enjoyed though," Tabitha drawled mockingly. "Don't you feel that such honesty and innocent curiosity is just amazing? Have you ever thought about having your own children? Wouldn't it be nice to have small ones running around?"
How did it even get in that direction?
"More like the major headache," the Herald of Doom muttered with some irritation. "Do you even know how long it takes for a troll whelp to grow up to the point when they don't need their parents' constant presence? And before that, there is at least a decade of taking care of a birthstone! In my position, I have no luxury of time. Not to mention that no troll is crazy enough to mate with me".
It used to be so different during the Gunmar's glory days - back then there were more than enough ambitious and greedy representatives of her kind. Mating with the Skullcrusher's daughter would give an impossibly high position and power. Barverra despised that kind of scum with passion - if she ever got a mate, that would be the one who could impress her with skill, strength, intelligence, or personality. She had never met anyone like that before the Killahead bridge battle and after it... Well, in the end, no one liked losers.
However, it turned out that the witch was hinting at something else entirely.
"I thought you'd agreed to live among humans," Tabitha continued with a faked surprise. "What if you have a child with one?"
That one was certainly unexpected. No, unexpected was a way too weak to describe that totally unhinged suggestion.
"With a fleshbag?" Barverra didn't even try to hide her repulsion. The only idea was too outlandish. "What kind of abomination can be born of such disgusting union? Is it even possible to start with?"
As far as she knew, reproduction worked quite differently for both kinds. It wasn't even the matter of someone's wish (though who in their right mind would want that?), but something involving nature differences themselves.
"With magic involved? Why not? Doesn't your kind have any rumors about that? There are more than enough tales on this side," the witch said casually as if discussing the current weather.
Barverra frowned - Tabitha had hit the nail on the head. There were actually quite a number of stories about half-trolls - the fruit of a forbidden union between a troll and a human. And whenever those tales actually bothered to touch the question of the origin there would be always some magical interference.
Still…
"Those are just stupid fairy-tales," the daughter of Gunmar muttered after giving it some consideration.
"Well, any folk story is based on some real fact," the retort left no impression on the witch. "Besides, nowadays many people think that trolls are also 'stupid fairy-tales' and we both know the truth about that".
The Herald of Doom stayed silent - she had no idea how to respond. Fairy-tale or not, half-trolls were treated as aberrations if not abominations. Those stories she had heard before never were too positive, describing creatures who were not that welcome no matter where they went. It was actually one of those rare things when both kinds totally agreed - halflings had no right to exist in this world. Fleshbags were scared of those and trolls treated them as a blasphemy that needed to be put out of misery. A truly wretched existence, that was for sure…
"...and the chances are minuscule in any case," the end of the witch's lecture broke Barverra out of her thoughts. She could swear it was way longer, but her mind somehow refused to register most of that speech, focusing on her own musings.
"Minuscule?" the daughter of Gunmar asked nonchalantly, pretending that she had heard all she needed.
Tabitha smiled, either having not noticed that her previous words fell on deaf ears or simply not caring much about that:
"Exactly. If you use the potion, you are capable to have offspring with a human in theory, but for it to happen... Hmm, I guess, stars should align in the proper manner at least. So there is no need to worry about that".
Barverra barely hid her irritation - what was even the point to bring such topic when it was highly unlikely occurrence to start with? That question left her lips before she managed to register it.
"I imagined it'd be unfair not to warn you about possible consequences," the witch didn't even think before replying. "What would you do if that fact caught you off-guard some centuries into the future? Half-trolls are mysterious beings and there is no common conclusion about them. From what I've heard, some are born as in-between creatures they are, while others spend some years as humans before revealing their true nature…"
Tabitha ended with some kind of long speech, but Barverra was too annoyed to listen to it attentively. The chances were 'minuscule' in any case, so there wouldn't be any need for such knowledge.
Who could even imagine the situation changing drastically in some centuries? Barbara always regretted that she never bothered to ask for specifics during that conversation with the witch. Maybe in that case she would be more informed about Jim's nature. As a doctor, the mother was able to examine her son's body regularly and each time there were no abnormalities. Her boy was fully human when it came to his physical state. Part of her was relieved yet another one totally hated that hanging state. It was no different from living in a house full of explosives - who could guess when that one would detonate, destroying everything? It could be tomorrow or in a year, or even in a decade. Barbara sighed - there was no point of empty worries or building theories as neither of those could change a thing.
So far it had been yet another peaceful day. Jim and Toby had come from Domzalskis' house some time ago and now was playing upstairs. It was not that unusual for boys basically to course back and forth between two houses. Even now the woman could hear some muffled sounds of a heated discussion.
Maybe it wouldn't harm to check, even though she seriously doubt that Jim and Toby would ever get into any serious fight - those two got along too well for anything like that and any quarrel would always end in half an hour at worst.
Jim's room met the mother with some mess - the floor was basically covered with numerous sheets of paper. Some colored pencils were scattered around and both boys were frantically drawing something, exchanging ideas excitedly. As soon as Barbara entered they raised their heads simultaneously and beamed.
"We're making a story, mommy!" Jim proclaimed proudly before she managed to ask.
"Oh, a picture book?" the woman smiled. "May I look?"
The boys exchanged glances, nodded, and started gathering scattered paper, trying to put it in order only two of them knew. Barbara couldn't help smiling at their enthusiasm - this peaceful image certainly chased away her recent unpleasant thoughts. She certainly needed to see this heartwarming peace to calm her own raging mind.
Their pictures weren't too detailed and proportions often were off as one would expect of a childish picture made for fun, but the woman could still tell apart many things. There was obviously some kind of fantasy town or village judging from colorful and oddly shaped houses. Jim and Toby also drew many people, though most of them were generic looking without anything helping to tell them apart - most likely background characters with no role to play. The more elaborate scribbles obviously held more importance.
Barbara chuckled a bit at a picture of a man (or maybe a boy) clad in bright golden armor and armed with a huge sword. That one was obviously the main character, possessing all imaginary attributes of a typical protector of justice humans tended to show in children-oriented media. Ironically, at the same time, it was holding some resemblance to Jim himself.
"So who is this?" the mother asked, faking some ignorance even though the answer was obvious.
"It's the Hero!" Jim's smile grew wider - he was obviously proud to be able to think out a nice story. "He's the local protector and the bravest guy around! No matter what kind of monster he meets, he'll win!"
The mother smiled back, although something in that description kept nagging on her mind. She wasn't able to tell what exactly yet, but it felt like a fact she knew for certain.
Barbara shifted her attention to another drawn figure instead. Well, if the previous one was meant as Jim's self-insert, this one just screamed Toby.
"And this one is the hero's sidekick, I suppose?"
"Not a sidekick, Dr. Lake," Toby objected at once, looking a bit hurt. "Sidekick is someone inferior, not an equal partner! And this is the Wingman, the Hero's best friend, and brother-in-arms!"
Barbara wondered for a second if young Tobias actually knew the initial meaning of that word, but in the end, it didn't matter that much. The only important thing was that be it in their story or in reality, the boys were truly close for better or worse.
"He has quite an unorthodox weapon," the mother pointed aloud, after examining the picture. "An ax?"
"Warhammer," Toby corrected proudly. "The coolest and most awesome weapon ever!"
The woman chuckled again - many trolls would agree with the redhead boy. Warhammers were just perfect for inflicting blunt damage. With enough strength, it was even possible to shatter an enemy in one hit. Kruberas, for example, were rather famous for that kind of feat.
A slight tug on her sleeve had broken her reverie - Jim was looking at her expectingly.
"But swords are cooler, aren't them, mommy?" he asked with a slight pout.
Now it became more obvious - that was the reason for the argument before Barbara had entered the room. And both boys definitely wanted the opinion of someone with more life experience.
"I'd pick up a sword," the mother smiled. It wasn't a lie by the way - she had a great mastery with her twin blades, after all, not to mention that something like a warhammer didn't fit her build or her style at all.
Jim pumped his fists triumphantly:
"Told you!"
"Whatever," Toby sulked a bit but brightened at once as the sudden idea hit him. "Nana would pick a warhammer for sure!"
Barbara laughed at their antics and idly continued looking through the pictures. There were some more peaceful scenes and then...
Impossible.
All the previous peaceful mood shattered into thousand pieces as her mind simply froze the second she had seen the next image.
"Scary, yes?" Jim beamed totally misinterpreting his mother's reaction. "Those are evil monsters!"
Scary evil monsters - that was most likely the best description for big black creatures with sharp teeth and huge horns that the boys had drawn. Yet they looked eerily similar to Gumm-Gumms. Barbara would swear that one of the scribbles could possibly depict Bular, though, most likely, it was just a coincidence.
How could it possibly happen?
There was no way that Jim or Toby had any opportunity to learn about trolls. She made sure that most supernatural beings stayed away from her life. Well, goblins remained the sole exception as they were still roaming night streets but those were uncontrollable in the end. However, in any case, it was simply impossible for anyone to encounter an actual Gumm-Gumm. The Killahead bridge battle sealed the Gunmar's hordes in the Darklands, Bular's fate remained unknown, and her own true form… No, Jim hadn't seen that one for sure.
Most likely, it was more in lines of an accidental resemblance, rather than a depiction of anything any of the boys had seen. Yet even that brought too many bitter thoughts. The way Jim directly called his pictures 'evil monsters' was a low blow. Without any doubts, Barbara's son had already acquired some morals and understanding of good and bad - and those were ones from the human perspective. In his book, his mother's tribe counted only as villains.
The following pictures only confirmed those suspicions. The heroes fighting the monsters, the heroes chasing away the monsters, the townsfolk celebrating the victory... Barbara wasn't even able to comprehend any of the excited explanations that both kids were showering her with - those just came as indistinguishable sounds.
When she finally got a firm hold on her feelings, she only had heard the door slamming - apparently Jim and Toby gathered their pictures in haste and ran away to show those to Nana as well.
Probably it was for better that they left the woman alone without noticing her turmoil. Because… Trying to explain that one was clearly impossible.
Barbara crouched starting to pick up clear sheets of paper and pencils abandoned on the floor. Where had it gone so wrong? She had always known that it was impossible to raise her son according to Gumm-Gumm views while living among humans - that alone would bring a lot of unneeded attention from neighbors and probably even social services. Not to mention, that some part of her hated the only thought of Jim having a childhood similar to her own. But the mother had tried to avoid talks about any 'monsters', so where had her son even gotten that opinion?
Where? Was that the rhetoric question? Was there even a reason to ask? The number of ways had no limits actually. It could come from his father - James had no obligations not to mention any evil monsters and knowing him, he had done that a lot. Toby could possibly talk about those or some other kids. There were monsters on TV in all kinds of media... It was pointless to speculate now with the damage already done and Barbara had not even the slightest idea how to get out of that mess.
Right now, for Jim, Gumm-Gumms could only count as villains. She was one of them - it was ludicrous to deny something like that. Would her son ever accept his mom in her true form? What about his own heritage?
Complicated, oh why it had to be so complicated? Even if the boy didn't turn his back to her, the world would still be against both of them - be it trolls or humans. Wasn't the recent encounter with Kanjigar a good enough proof for that? The Trollhunter didn't even attempt to ask about her current motives, no, he outright went for her neck. And other trolls wouldn't be that different. Why couldn't they all just leave Jim and her alone? Why wasn't there any truly safe haven, only the one built upon lies and illusions?
Barbara grabbed a pencil absentmindedly, her hand sketching something with her mind lost in reverie. She failed to notice Jim returning and sneaking up behind her back peeking at her picture with some childish curiosity.
The mother nearly jumped when a question broke the silence.
"Is this Mama Monster and her little one?"
She stared at her own sketch - not that detailed, yet holding so much meaning. A black female troll with a wild mane hugging a tiny one - an image she found dear to her heart. Her Jim was born as a human, but it didn't mean that Barbara had never considered the opposite situation.
"Yes," the woman answered quietly, trying to hide her sadness. "She's one of the monsters who attacked the village".
What was the point of denying? How many villages had she burned down during the Gunmar's rule days? How many lives had she taken, never feeling any mercy or remorse? Jim would learn about all of those atrocities one day. What kind of expression would he have then? What kind of accusations would he throw at her then?
"She looks sad," her son pointed out after some thinking. "Why did she attack then?"
As childish as it was, that one was also a surprisingly touchy question. The world was pretty tricky at times. Every now and then there was no reason for violence, there were too many, or the reason didn't justify actions, and so on.
"Who knows," Barbara sighed. Even if she questioned her past motives, that wouldn't magically solve her current deadlock where she had only enemies around her.
"Maybe she was scared or wanted to protect her little one," Jim guessed instead, his brows knitted together in an attempt to unravel the mystery.
"Does that change anything?" the question escaped the mother's lips before she managed to realize it. It sounded quite harsh, but the boy didn't care.
"Yes!" he beamed all of sudden and then took another sheet of paper and some pencils. "Wait a bit, ok?"
The next second Jim started to draw something enthusiastically. Barbara tried to peek at the picture, but a pout and "Don't look!" stopped her attempts altogether. The boy was obviously hurrying with whatever he tried to create, but he also was putting a lot of effort into that one.
"Here!" he claimed in the end quite proud of whatever he doodled.
The mother finally managed to get a good look and refused to believe her eyes - it was a lot like a previous happy end picture with all the villagers celebrating the Hero's victory, but this time there were smiling monsters among them as well.
Jim definitely had noticed his mother's confusion so he continued:
"The Hero talked to monsters and it turned out that they weren't that bad, just misunderstood. So he invited them to live in the village and everyone became friends... It's a better ending, yes, Mommy?"
Barbara didn't say a thing, pulling her son into the hug instead. He was really kind and that ending was definitely the happiest possible. Yet it didn't work like that in real life. How was it exactly? Woe to the vanquished? Only a winning side had the right to be happy - hadn't Gunmar taught her that simple truth a long time ago?
Jim was still too young, too naive, and could believe in heroes' righteousness and kindness, but that kind of people often simply chose the lesser evil option. Or an option that was good only for the one side. Forgiving and accepting a monster? No one was such a saint.
Yet a part of her desired that childish and naive resolution, no matter how impossible it seemed...
As the time kept flying by, Barbara was considering her next steps. There was no Kanjigar in close vicinity - goblins foraging local dumpsters without any shame told a lot. Those creatures were true cowards after all and a presence of a strong troll would rather make them avoid the area.
So unless she made the same mistake, the Trollhunter would never be able to track the daughter of Gunmar. She could easily sacrifice her time in a true form - if that was the price for Jim's safety and peaceful days, the mother was willing to pay it. Actually, she would gladly give even more than that if there was any need.
Eventually, the woman even went back to her late shifts - if anything, restoring some normalcy took priority.
It was just another regular day and another shift was incoming. Barbara was going to tell Jim she was heading out when she had heard another childish quarrel breaking out.
"I tell you, the father should be the villain, Tobes!" Jim's agitated voice suddenly broke the peaceful atmosphere.
"That's overused, Jimbo!" Toby retorted in the same manner.
The mother sighed - no matter how close the boys were, sometimes their discussions tended to become too heated. Like that time with a sword versus warhammer not that long ago. Though she could swear, that right now there were some uncharacteristically angry notes in her son's voice, no, even some borderline hostility. Whatever upset him, it was certainly not that trivial. At least to him.
When Barbara entered the room, Jim certainly looked disturbed and irritated. Toby was sulking in the opposite corner, clearly not that happy himself. A quick glance around gave the woman a vague idea about the possible reason for the temporal discord.
"Are you drawing another story, kids? What's the point of the argument?"
There were many pictures scattered around once again, so it wasn't that difficult to guess. Probably, just another problematic plot twist or something.
Jim looked at Toby with some uncertainty, clearly embarrassed of his previous outburst, and nodded.
"It's a sequel," the plump boy added, bouncing back at once.
"So all the fight is because you cannot come to a common decision about your story," Barbara looked at the clock - there was still some time until she needed to leave, so she could try to at least diffuse the situation a bit. Hopefully, this time the woman wouldn't sound too biased.
"Yes," Toby replied hastily, most likely in an attempt to tell his side first. "Jim's stubborn for no reason. A villain dad is overused, so we shouldn't have that one. I proposed the evil overlord grandpa instead, but Jim insists on the bad dad!"
"Because that one makes more sense!" Jim argued again, deadset on whatever idea he had. It was eerily close to starting the second round of quarrel.
"Wait a bit, boys!" the mother interfered before the catastrophe happened. "Can you explain more first? Whose father or grandpa?"
She mentally went through the first part the kids presented her some time ago - it was a typical story about good guys against monsters. So for a sequel shouldn't be there another attack, by a dragon, perhaps, or some other mythical creature? Jim had changed the ending last time, so the black monsters coming back for revenge were out of the question.
"The main hero's, of course!" Jim replied eagerly. Some hopeful gleam in his blue eyes hinted that the boy was expecting to get some support from his mom.
Now that stopped having any sense. A human villain, supposedly the evil overlord according to Toby? Not to mention the obvious conflict between the family members? The boys definitely were thinking out something too complicated for their age. Or maybe Barbara was just underestimating their understanding of the world.
As if noticing her confusion, both kids added at once:
"We've changed the main hero for this story".
"Yes, as some time has passed there".
"Really?" Barbara raised her eyebrows in some disbelief. "I'm sure I've seen the Wingman on one of your pictures".
That redhead figure was too distinct to make a mistake. But Toby shook his head:
"That one is Wingman's son, Wingman II who decided to follow in his father's footsteps".
So it was the next generation kind of sequel. Was then the new main hero the previous one's son as well? Wait, no, it was impossible as in that case the villainous father was simply contradicting. Changing sides after falling to corruption? No, while that happened in the real world, that twist would be too much for two seven-year-olds.
Barbara glimpsed over scattered pictures once again and suddenly everything started to make too much sense as all the puzzle pieces clicked at last.
The change of protagonist.
The insistence of making the hero's father a villain.
Even that previous time when Jim decided to change the ending out of blue.
All the fragments just had fallen into their right places, showing the image Barbara had been neglecting for a while. A heartbreaking memory flashed through her mind. The one of her little son, scared and crying, clinging to her in sheer desperation and asking only one question again and again.
Am I a monster?
Her dear child had a horrible scar on his soul, something she had no idea how to heal, so instead, she kept hoping that it would go away as time passed. Too often it felt like the boy had recovered from that, but no, it kept lurking below the surface, showing itself on rare occasions. Like right now.
Jim had made the little monster his mother drew last time the protagonist of his story. Barbara would have been extremely dumb or just a horrible mother, if she had failed to see a hidden meaning behind that decision.
Insecurity. Fear. Doubts. And behind all of those - a weak hope that nothing was set in stone.
Her son dreamed to be a hero, yet he had seeds of uncertainty planted deep inside his soul. No matter how young he was, he had already questioned his own humanity at least once.
The story Jim had thought out together with Toby was full of hope - the one that maybe even a monster could be a hero.
And a fitting villain for that kind of plot? Obviously meant as an obstacle on the main character's road, symbolizing someone who would deny his right to choose his own way. For Jim that could be only one person, the one who actually called him a monster once. His father, James Lake Sr.
Toby would never know the reason for that insistence, so it probably looked like a simple stubbornness for him rather than anything significant.
Of course, most likely it was just something subconscious rather than a deliberate decision. If the woman tried to ask, Jim wouldn't be even able to explain his own insistence. Nevertheless, it still showed a huge problem. Barbara loathed herself for even daring to think that her son had simply forgotten the incident if he had never brought it up. As if she hadn't noticed her boy's budding tendency to hide his troubles before!
A tug on her sleeve brought the woman back to reality. Both kids were looking at her expectantly - she realized too late that there had to be some question they asked which she obviously had missed while lost in her thoughts.
"Sorry, boys, I simply don't know," Barbara forced a smile deciding to go for the most neutral response possible. There was some clear disappointment as the children exchanged glances.
"I guess, we need to ask Nana then," Toby shrugged with a sigh. "Let's go, Jimbo!"
He left the room at once, but before her son managed to follow his best friend, Barbara stopped him.
"Jim, I'm going to work, so stay at Toby's house and be good, ok?" she planted a kiss on his forehead ruffling his hair affectionately.
"Ok!" the boy beamed.
"And..." the mother paused, her face pained for a moment. "You can always talk to me if there's trouble, ok? I'll be there for you..."
"Ok," this one was less confident as if he was confused, but the next second Jim was already hurrying to catch up with Toby.
Barbara watched her son with a sad expression wondering if it was even possible to let him have a blissful childhood...