It was already past midnight when Barbara had returned home. The second she had stepped inside, it was as if some switch was flipped - she wasn't a fearsome troll princess anymore, just a concerned mother. Sometimes, it felt so weird - it was like there were two separate hers. Perhaps, she had been keeping the illusion for too long.
On her way back, the woman realized that she had left the museum too abruptly, without bothering to tell Bular anything. A serious miscalculation, no, a grave mistake. The only hope was for her brother never trying to hunt the fleshbag Trollhunter using Stricklander's suggestions.
At least, tomorrow would be Sunday, meaning no school and no opportunity for Jim to end at the same place as that unfortunate teen, who just happened to stumble upon the amulet. And before Monday the woman hoped to have the actual discussion with Bular, coordinating their actions entirely. There was no place for any foolish mistakes here.
In the best-case scenario, her brother would be able to follow the Head of Janus Order and get some leads, even though it seemed highly unlikely. There were some chances that the impure would carelessly reveal valuable info in the black brute's presence, but that probability was also close to nil.
It seemed that Barverra the Atrocious would need to depend only on herself. Was it so weird to wish there were more clues about the mysterious teen? The only sure thing was that the new Trollhunter was one of Stricklander's students. That made the list of suspects too long.
Perhaps, the woman could get some information from Jim. No, she wasn't going to ask him directly - there was no way the mother would ever involve her son in all that stuff. But the teen was pretty open while talking about his school life, so he could unknowingly bring up something helpful. It would be more than enough, if during one of those conversations, Jim would say something along the lines of 'you know, John Doe found some weird object recently in the canal and claimed it to be magical'. Well, even the part about someone finding something unusual would be more than enough to start an investigation in that direction.
Barbara sighed and went upstairs to check on Jim.
As she expected, her son was fast asleep, with a faint smile curling his lips. Had something good happened to him? Well, at least someone had a way better day.
The mother sat down on the edge of the teen's bed, reaching her hand to brush his hair. Once again, the feeling of helplessness had overcome her mind. Everything she had built through the years was crumbling apart right before her eyes. It was as if everything kept going downhill, no matter what she did.
Only some days ago, it was so easy to keep trolls away from human life. The fleshbag Trollhunter had somehow managed to put everything upside down. Now the fight would end more in the open, especially with Bular, who knew nothing about being stealthy or discreet.
Barbara wondered if the Trollmarket had sent anyone to their new champion. If she were in that position, she would abduct the teen and keep him underground for good. Yes, that was cruel, but to the woman's mind, it was the best way to ensure that the easy victim wouldn't roam around and end dead while losing the valuable artifact.
Though, if they did that, the entire plan of releasing Gunmar would end in stalemate for a while - probably till the current Trollhunter died from natural causes. Even though fleshbags were short-lived, it would still mean several additional decades.
Did any of that actually matter? No, Barbara was worried more about Jim possibly getting caught in the crossfire. For a probably thousandth time, the mother had considered telling her son about trolls. And not only that - for a split second, a darker thought about taking him away from his human life had also crossed her mind.
It was not too far-fetched to imagine that the current lifestyle wouldn't remain as safe as it used to be. Not with Stricklander, who kept with his snooping.
Maybe it's just the right moment to abandon all of this illusion altogether.
They could live in the forest, in her secret lair. Besides, the woman would be able to teach her son some proper swordsmanship for self-defense. Eventually, she would introduce Bular to Jim and later take her boy with her to participate in the Killahead restoration plan.
Yet...
For all of that to work properly, her son had to be something more than a human. He had to manifest his hidden troll nature to the full extent.
All those years, Barbara had been waiting for it to happen without any interference. She could imagine that such kind of change would end as a traumatic experience in any case.
However, for better or worse, the mother knew the method to force the transformation, no matter how much she would prefer to bury that knowledge in the deepest corner of her mind.
How could she possibly do anything that cruel to her son?
She regretted even learning that one, let alone starting the investigation on it.
With technical progress going swiftly, most of the old-fashioned supernatural retreated even deeper into shadows. Yet, there had always been ones who were willing to get a full grasp on all of the technologies.
Barverra was always dependant on getting the various magical ingredients. Some were easy, while others would involve a risky hunt for those or getting them from a magical merchant.
The second option had become the preferable one for the woman many decades ago, back when she got some connections to some grey-morals magic users. The fact, that some of those started to use the Internet and provide deliveries, was a pleasant surprise.
There were also some closed forums for the hidden society. Barverra tried to keep with some of the discussions there just in case.
It was the place where she had discovered a thread about mixed blood. The term wasn't the exact thing she had heard before, but it soon became apparent that the discussion was about half-trolls.
If the woman still had no children, she wouldn't even pay attention. Yet she had a son, so each word in that thread was analyzed carefully.
Most of the posters didn't know a thing, simply throwing some bizarre theories. Some others didn't bring anything Barbara hadn't heard herself.
However, one person kept giving surprisingly insightful information, leaving no space for any doubt. They definitely possessed vast knowledge, exceeding others in that field.
The woman didn't know what exactly forced her to send a private message to that user. She didn't show more interest than simple curiosity, yet the stranger's response got her by surprise.
'Is that involving someone you know?' those were the exact words back then. 'If it's actually important to you, I suggest a meeting. If possible, take the person in question with you'.
In hindsight, everything was a gamble. But...
Jim was an unusual child, and his mother knew nothing about him. It was already a stroke of unimaginable luck that he had lived for seven years without many complications. Nevertheless, it was impossible to tell when everything would change. If someone could provide the needed knowledge, she would gladly grasp on that straw.
That possible source of information, on the other hand, also felt like someone overcautious - they decided on a place of meeting, which would require crossing several states, and demanded that Barbara stayed at the hotel they named while waiting for them in the nearby park at midday. There were no exact dates though.
Probably, the woman should have back down at that time, but instead, she had taken the risk, told Jim that they would have a little vacation together, and headed out into the unknown. If there was some kind of trap, she was ready to fight, using her full potential and make her enemies pay for trying such underhanded tactics.
The drive through several states had actually turned out to be an exciting adventure for her boy - they made so many memorable photos together and visited several interesting spots. Even if the main goal ended in a failure, it had already been worth a lot.
Eventually, Barbara arrived at the destination and followed the stranger's instructions. She went to the park and sat on a bench with a book. Jim ran away to explore around a bit, though remained in her field of view.
Honestly, it felt rather ridiculous, like something out of spy dramas. The mysterious source of information probably was a devoted fan of those or something. The woman half-expected them to appear in dark sunglasses and a big hat.
So, when the contact turned out to be just an elderly lady dressed in simple apparel, Barbara didn't even think that it was the person she needed. However, the looks were certainly deceiving - the daughter of Gunmar noticed some keen mind reflected in that stranger's grey eyes.
"I wasn't sure that you'd arrive, but it seems it's the same as always," the old lady stated instead of greeting. "You can call me Moira."
The redhead wondered if that was an alias but refrained from any questions.
"Barbara," she introduced herself with a polite smile. "I hoped that you'd share some important info with me."
"Right here?" Moira raised her eyebrows. "My, dear girl, talking in the open about such stuff is out of the question! Or, perhaps, you are not that concerned about that sweet little son of yours?"
"Is that a threat?" Barbara asked coldly, getting on guard at once. If her new acquaintance believed blackmail to be a proper approach, she had some bad news for her.
"Hardly," the old lady shrugged. "Yet you never know who and how may listen to your talks. And I believe that your child's safety should be your top priority, right?" she nodded in the direction of Jim, who was examining some pebbles near the pond nearby.
The mother hated to admit that, but Moira was actually right.
"Jim!" she called out. "Come here, sweetie! We need to go!"
Her son ran to her immediately, though he slightly slowed down after noticing a stranger nearby.
"Good afternoon," he greeted shyly, fidgeting with some nervousness.
"A sweet child, indeed," the old lady smiled calmly. "I assume he's the one?"
Barbara nodded - she saw no point in denial, besides the new acquaintance certainly had already connected the dots.
"I live nearby," Moira continued. "It'll be better to discuss the matters there."
She didn't lie - the walk barely took several minutes until they reached an apartment block. The daughter of Gunmar hadn't lowered her guard even for a second, squeezing Jim's hand all the time and constantly scrutinizing her surroundings. If anything troublesome happened, she would be able to retreat effortlessly. At least that made the woman relax a bit.
Moira's apartment looked surprisinglytrivial, without any weird stuff used as decorations, with a lone aquamarine crystal being a sole exception.
Jim looked at that one with some awe and tugged his mother's sleeve, whispering:
"Mommy, do you think Tobes would like that stone? Maybe we can buy a similar one as a present for him?"
Barbara couldn't help smiling at that comment - her son's best friend definitely had much interest in all kinds of rocks. Jim had always been attentive to such details.
However, the aquamarine crystal was a rather peculiar object itself - trolls used similar ones as toys for smaller whelps. Barbara wondered how her new acquaintance came into possession of one - those originated from the Darklands, after all.
It seemed that Moira was not as simple as she appeared at first glance. Though the one with some knowledge about half-trolls couldn't be just a regular person.
"Some tea?" the old lady proposed.
"Thanks, I'd prefer to deal with everything as soon as possible," Barbara refused at once, glaring at the host with some suspicion. Jim had certainly felt her mood change as his grip on her clothes grew tighter.
"No need to worry, I'm on your side," there was some sadness in Moira's voice as she tried to reassure her guests. "Though," she added after some consideration, "maybe it's the right attitude - sometimes being too gullible can cause more harm than good... Especially, in your position..."
"You seem to be too informed," Barbara frowned. "It raises too many questions, that's for sure".
"Just a lot of experience dealing with desperate parents and special kids," the old lady chuckled bitterly. "Have seen too many, I think it's impossible to surprise me by now."
"Hopefully," the daughter of Gunmar was still wary, though something told her that the new acquaintance wasn't an enemy.
Meanwhile, Jim was gazing from his mother to the stranger and back again with some confusion. The entire conversation definitely made no sense to him.
"So... May I examine the boy?" Moira asked calmly. Barbara nodded and nudged her son gently in the old lady's direction.
Moira offered Jim a chair and smiled at him warmly.
"So, sweetie, what is your name?" she asked kindly.
The kid glanced hesitantly at his mother but still replied:
"Jim."
"A wonderful name!" the old woman beamed. "And how old are you?"
"Will be eight in two months and a week," this response was more a confident one.
"Oh my, so big already," Moira laughed cordially. "Would you mind if I check your teeth?"
"Are you a dentist?" Jim blurted. "Toby always visits one!"
The old lady shook her head:
"Oh no, dear, I'm not... Though I guess you can consider me a doctor as well..."
"So you're like my mommy then!" the boy opened up entirely. He always respected doctors finding them pretty cool.
"Are you a doctor, Barbara?" Moira seemed quite impressed when she turned to her guest. "I assume you've conducted some checks yourself then?"
"There're no anomalies," the mother answered honestly. "Well, at least as far as my knowledge goes. Nothing is different from a regular kid his age."
"Let's see," the old lady drawled forlornly, looking into Jim's mouth. After some thorough examination, she finally admitted:
"It's quite rare not to see any sharp edges when it comes to teeth... Were those also growing normally?"
"No," Barbara shook her head. "Lower canines came first."
"I see," Moira muttered. "Could be worse if he was born with teeth... And..." her hand suddenly reached to the spot right above Jim's temple.
"None," the mother answered hastily as if afraid that the new acquaintance would ask aloud about horns. "Not even traces of those..."
The old lady looked at her with understanding and then smiled at the boy:
"Jim, there's a TV in the next room - you can watch something you like, and I'll talk to your mommy."
"That's right, kiddo, no need to listen to the boring adult stuff," Barbara agreed immediately.
"Ok," Jim jumped off the chair and ran to the next room. After some seconds, both women heard the turned on TV.
"You keep your son in the dark about his nature," Moira stated, her eyes flashing with obvious disapproval. "Do you think it's wise? Do you even realize how easy it is to raise suspicions of surrounding people?"
Barbara scowled, barely refraining from a growl - even in human form, she couldn't get rid of that habit entirely.
"Jim can easily live without any trolls or troll stuff ruining his life," she whispered angrily, fully aware that her son was in close vicinity - it was dubious that the TV noise would be able to mask actual yells. "He has already been scared to the death when he thought that he was a monster."
"So instead of showing physically, his nature manifested in tendencies?" the old lady inquired strictly. "Which ones? Fear of sun to the point of being not able to go outside? Attempts of eating raw meat or inorganic matter? Unstoppable aggression? Not being able to function in human society at all?"
The daughter of Gunmar lost all the hostility at once, looking at Moira in bewilderment.
"Could it be that bad?" she finally asked, feeling the fear creeping inside.
"You have no idea," the elderly woman sighed. "I've seen too many half-troll kids, and it had never been easy for them. At least, we can thank modern progress - I still cannot stop shivering when I remember all attempts of 'exorcism' I've heard about."
"They told me half-trolls were rare, yet you've mentioned many," Barbara hadn't missed that one. It was pretty weird.
"With changelings around?" Moira let out a tired chuckle. "It may have been a rare occurrence when trolls had nothing to do with humans. Changelings, however, often start relationships for a cover or even create families."
That certainly made a lot of sense, now that Barbara thought about that one. Before Morgana's unholy ritual, there was no way for trolls to mingle with fleshbags. Well, there was alsoa human-turning potion, but it seemed to be an obscure knowledge.
"But you've certainly surprised me a lot, my dear," Moira's voice suddenly broke her reverie. "It's the first time I'm visited by a parent with a proper understanding of what's going on with their child."
That was definitely a dangerous miscalculation from Barbara's side. But the daughter of Gunmar had never considered the option that there were other children like Jim.
"I've done a thorough research," she answered curtly. The old lady hadn't believed her at all - it was obvious from her slightly skeptical expression.
"It seems you were extremely lucky then," the comment was quite nonchalant though, as if Moira suggested that the circumstances didn't matter to her. She continued after some uncomfortable silence:
"We started to talk about Jim's tendencies, but you've never elaborated... What were those?"
"He always fancied darker places," Barbara started slowly, wondering how much she could reveal. "There were some fights in the kindergarten, but I cannot say for sure if that happened because of his heritage... He also bit some people..."
"That's definitely not enough for concluding that the boy is a half-troll," Moira shook her head. "Was there anything else?"
The sudden realization hit the daughter of Gunmar - the elderly woman assumed that her guest was a human, otherwise, there wouldn't be any of those questions. After all, a troll parent would know for sure.
Should she have revealed the truth? Could she trust that new acquaintance so much?
No, that would be too risky - Moira might have had a wish to help a fellow human, but there was no guarantee that she would even consider helping a troll, especially the one with a horrible reputation.
"Jim got extremely scared once," Barbara picked up her words carefully, avoiding mentioning any details. "And it looked like the instincts took over him - at that moment, he was the very image of a cornered animal, snarling and willing to attack anyone approaching."
The only memory of that made the woman wish she could dig her husband and kill him once again. Most likely, it showed in her expression as the old lady raised her eyebrows and commented:
"You seem to be rather terrifying when it comes to the protection of your child."
"Is it bad?" the redhead asked dryly.
"Quite the contrary," Moira shrugged. "On this path, you'll need to be the scariest demon possible, if you want to protect your son. Anything lesser than that won't be enough."
There was another uncomfortable pause. Barbara started to wonder if her trip was entirely pointless.
"Seriously, you just keep surprising me, dear girl," the elderly lady finally broke the silence. "It seems this time there won't be the regular question."
"Regular question?" the daughter of Gunmar wondered which one that was.
"Exactly," Moira nodded. "Something along the lines 'can you make my child normal?' or 'is there a cure?'"
"That's not a disease!" Barbara raised her voice momentarily but remembered about Jim being in the next room and added more quietly: "He's normal as he is."
"I know," the old woman sighed. "Good to hear that I don't need to explain to you the obvious stuff. Some mothers fail to comprehend something so simple. However, if you didn't come for a cure, what are you looking for?"
That was it. Now it was just the right moment to ask for proper answers.
"I just want to know what to expect in the future," Barbara said firmly. "To be ready for whatever will come."
"It won't be easy, to say the least, be it for the boy or you," Moira looked really sorrowful for some reason. "However, your son is already quite an unusual case. It's the first time I see a half-troll without any troll traits manifesting by this age. And it sounds like there wasn't anything too drastic when it comes to his mental state. The kids I've seen so far tended to be way more inhuman... I'm not that sure about this case, but..." she obviously wavered for some reason.
"Please, continue," the mother looked right into the old woman's eyes. "Even some info is better than nothing."
"Fine," Moira sighed. "The change always comes for each half-troll, there has been no exception to the rule. They are peculiar existence, after all, their conception is linked to magic... I've discovered that magic is also the thing that makes them look human. Yet it fades away with time..."
Her eyes were hazy and unfocused as if she was looking at some faraway land.
"The change is never immediate, it usually drags for weeks, months, or even years until the child assumes their true form. The order of traits manifesting varies greatly, but the worst is the emotional state - half-trolls possess both human and troll emotions at once. It's difficult to handle, especially when there are physical changes, which they don't understand... There is an entire spectrum of negative emotions - from uncontrollable panic to full-blown rage, not to mention that those may start because of the most mundane things. And then there are also some disturbing instincts and feral behavior."
There was another pause, and then the elderly lady added:
"Not every parent is ready to deal with that, believe me... Even among those who put up a brave front at first. And there is no way to stop or slow down the process, once it started".
"I won't run away," Barbara claimed firmly. Why would she? Troll tendencies weren't something weird for her. But, gosh, she was seriously disgusted with parents who were scared of their offspring once those became less human. Those reminded her of James and his inability to accept their son being different.
It was so different for her - the daughter of Gunmar didn't love Jim less only because he was a fleshbag at the moment. He was her precious boy, no matter what form he would take.
"Will you allow me to check something with your son?" Moira suddenly asked, her eyes turning determined at once.
"It depends," Barbara glowered, her guard going up immediately. There were definitely boundaries, which couldn't be crossed.
"No need to worry, it's harmless," the old lady reassured her right away. "Just some detection magic."
Well, the mother had a hunch from the very start that her new acquaintance most likely was a magic user - there was something in her overall attitude, and the way she talked hinted that Moira had lived for too long to be a simple mortal fleshbag.
"I'd prefer Jim to stay unaware of anything supernatural for now," Barbara hesitated, even though she felt that the magical check was long overdue.
"He won't notice," the elderly woman smiled calmly. "Only two of us will see that".
She silently gestured her guest to follow her to the doorway leading to the next room. The mother could see Jim sitting on the sofa there, fully engrossed in watching some cartoon.
"Let's see," Moira muttered and whispered some spell. Several silver wispy orbs appeared above her palm and floated swiftly towards the boy. They stopped above his head, trembling slightly.
"Hmm, peculiar reaction, for sure," the magic user pointed out, talking to herself rather than to the guest. "So even magic sees him as a human, eh? And what if?" she mumbled another spell. The orbs changed to bright blue color right away, moreover, some glow surrounded Jim as well, alarming his mother.
"What is that?" she hissed, fighting the urge to strangle the hag.
"A simple check to see how much magic helps him to retain the human form," Moira shrugged, ignoring unhidden hostility. "But my, that's a lot - he most likely can have more than enough of peaceful years... Still, I think we should go deeper..."
No, that would be a horrible idea. Barbara suddenly realized that it would be better to stop everything right away. Alas, it had already been too late - the magic user had uttered another spell already.
Wisps of light suddenly turned black with some red tint, and both women caught a fleeting glimpse of Jim turning into something else for a second.
A dark troll whelp with tiny, barely grown horns. That was the true face of the son of Barverra, the grandson of Gunmar.
"A Gumm-Gumm," Moira's voice sounded surprisingly emotionless. It was impossible to say what exactly she was thinking.
Barbara cursed inwardly - starting any commotion with Jim in close vicinity was out of the question, but there was no way that anyone in their right mind would let a member of the most vicious troll tribe go.
However, the following phrase caught her by surprise.
"Well, now everything makes way more sense. Well, sorry for being that slow, but it's the first time a troll mother visits me. Still, I should have noticed sooner - your attitude has been too off for a scared and confused parent."
There was no hostility in the old lady's eyes, only some genuine curiosity as she continued:
"There's no need to worry, I wish no ill to your child. Poor boy has done nothing wrong, and he definitely didn't choose to be born like that... But I would never imagine that someone of your caliber would ever look for help from a fleshbag - I think that's your preferred term for my kind?"
Barbara wasn't that willing to drop her guard too fast.
"Why do you think that I'm a Gumm-Gumm?" she started slowly. "Maybe it was Jim's father, you know."
"It's pointless to deny," Moira sighed with clear disappointment. "You could do that only if I had no connections with troll communities... Unfortunately for you, those ties are pretty tight, and I am quite well-versed with the state of things for your kind. It's a well-known fact that after the Killahead bridge battle, only two natural-born Gumm-Gumms remained on the surface. Well, there is a possibility that Bular the Vicious, the infamous Butcher, can be the boy's father, but to be honest, your name gives you away. Have you ever realized how close it is to your true one?"
"Point taken," Barbara admitted her defeat here. The elderly lady wasn't that dumb not to connect dots after getting all the facts before her. "Still, I don't recommend starting a fight with me - I'll never hesitate to rip apart a fleshbag if needed."
She was bluffing - many decades among humans planted seeds of doubt into her soul, not to mention that she would never show her son anything gory.
"No one talked about fighting, so, please, don't jump to conclusions," Moira frowned. "I've made an oath to help any half-troll child, and I'll never break that one, even if I have some personal dislike of your father."
That was quite a bizarre choice of words, 'some personal dislike' instead of hatred or hostility or anything else.
"I'm too cynical to believe in selfless wish to help," Barbara uttered, glaring at her new acquaintance. She had met some altruistic humans during the last centuries, but it wasn't going to change her outlook drastically. "They told me, half-trolls are taboo children, abominations shunned by both sides."
"Have you ever thought your son is an abomination?" the old lady asked coldly, her eyes reflecting something unsettling.
The growl escaped Barbara's lips - the one surprisingly similar to the troll one. How did that hag dared even implying something like that?
"Don't joke like that," the daughter of Gunmar hissed threateningly.
"And what would you think about kids in the same situation?" Moira continued, ignoring hostility once again.
The redhead was taken aback by that question - honestly, she had never thought about that. But... Most likely, despite being the infamous Herald of Doom, she would at least feel some compassion. She had mellowed a lot, that was for sure.
"I guess your response is the same as mine then," a sad voice broke her reverie. The old magic user had returned to her earlier, more sympathetic attitude. "You know, I gave birth to a half-troll many centuries ago. Was my son wrong? I never thought so. The world I brought him into, on the other hand, was rotten to its core."
There were so many raw emotions in her gaze - anger, frustration, grief, disgust. The story she had to tell had never got its happy ending, that was for sure.
"I lived in the village near Camelot back then. A foolish young witch, an unworthy successor for a powerful line. The king at that time wasn't too kind to anything magic-related..."
"Well, I'm well-aware of Arthur's purges," Barbara interrupted dryly. "The insolent fleshbaghad done a fine job in infuriating my father.He would never start a full-blown war against fleshbags if that one never tried to challenge the Skullcrusher's authority. Father was pretty much satisfied with occasional hunts before that."
As his loyal and trusted strategist, Barverra knew her parent's character too well. Gunmar enjoyed the taste of human flesh yet would rather destroy entire humanity than allow the possibility of someone trying to take away part of his possessions from him.
"Well, we both lived then, so it makes sense that you need no explanation," Moira shrugged. "In any case, my venerable mother fell victim to one of the king's hunts. That wizard advisor of his, Merlin," she winced, "wasn't in a great relationship with my family, so he pretended that nothing had happened. For someone proclaiming himself a protector of magic users, he definitely ignored too many pleas."
There was clearly some personal grudge there, something that hadn't faded away with time. The old lady continued:
"I was close to execution myself, but the king's sister personally vouched for me... So after some time in a local dungeon, they allowed me to come back to my village. I expected to be able to live a simple life without getting into anything huge. My magic was weak, and I was scared, so what else could I ask? My late mother was an accomplished potion brewer, so I was earning money selling her stock of rare stuff... And then I met Garrader..."
"A troll," Barbara muttered. "A garden one, judging from the name."
"Yes," Moira nodded. "He was a deserter - as far as I learned, his village sent him and several others to the Skullcrusher's forces, so that he would leave their settlement alone. Garrader ran away as he hated violence."
The daughter of Gunmar hummed - that made a lot of sense, actually. Garden trolls were giant but never fancied fighting unless there was some real need. Their lifestyle was pretty laidback too.
"He settled in the forest near the village," the old woman went on with her tale, "even helped locals occasionally. That was my first experience in communication with a troll, and I was quite surprised - for a stone creature Garrader was a huge softie... People liked him, but..."
There was a long pause before Moira opened her mouth again:
"Not everyone in the village turned out to be accepting. Someone had reported to the King that a troll was entering human settlement freely. A squad of knights arrived, dead set on catching 'the beast'. And I... I guess I was slightly insane back then because my idea of helping was quite unorthodox. One of my mother's potions allowed a troll to assume human form temporarily."
"For two weeks," Barbara interrupted the explanation. "I use that one myself."
"Not only that," the old lady ignored the comment, "I also took him into my hut, lying to the Camelot knights that Garrader was my betrothed. They didn't check much because a troll turning into a human was beyond their comprehension..."
"It didn't sound like you were that close, yet it somehow ended with a kid?" the daughter of Gunmar asked skeptically.
"I guess you weren't in love with your son's father then... Well, I was young, and have you ever heard about the hanging bridge effect? Though the end result was still the same, no matter why," Moira's voice became barely audible, "The only man I've ever loved was a troll, huge and quite clumsy, yet kind and gentle... I wish some people were not that fixed on appearances and could look past that..."
Another long silence followed. Barbara waited for a while but eventually lost patience:
"And what did happen after that?"
"Nothing too special - the knights roamed around for a while, then lost interest and left. Garrader decided to go back to his tribe. Everything should have ended with that," the elderly lady faked indifference - actually more like tried to do that, but failed miserably. "Yet soon enough, I discovered that I was with a child. I wonder if someone can even understand what kind of panic I felt back then - I had not even the slightest idea what kind of existence I would bring in this world. I knew nothing about half-trolls, and I had nobody to ask about those. And when my son was born..." Moira closed her eyes, her face distorted with a painful expression. "He wasn't as lucky as your child - my boy had teeth from the very birth, and his horns started growing before he was two. Not to mention how much he was growing - he was already taller than me by the age of six. My poor son was cursed to never know any normalcy from the very start - be it in the body or mind, he was becoming more troll with each passing day. We couldn't have any peace, not with the obsessed king hunting anything supernatural. We could only be on the run, hiding in shadows, hoping that no one would find us - as it turned out that trollkind wasn't that accepting of my child too - if anything, they freaked out even more than humans..."
The old woman went silent again. Barbara noticed that she was clenching fists so hard that her nails punctured the skin. Without any doubt, her new acquaintance was reliving those horrible memories.
"Twelve years," she suddenly uttered with some evident hatred. "My kid was only allowed to live for twelve short years before that bastard king and his goons got to him. They simply threw him into the sunlight while laughing as if they didn't notice that it was just a child... That day I wished I could die together with my boy, yet those bastards didn't give me even that. No, they threw me into jail for assisting 'the monster'. You know, I cursed the world back then - if your father won, I would gladly celebrate... I got out eventually - apparently, something had changed in Camelot, but I couldn't care less..."
"So because of that past, you decided to help others in the same situation," the daughter of Gunmar summed up after waiting until the old lady calmed down. The story was disturbing and tragic, so she could sympathize. It was nearly impossible to imagine what she would do if something like that ever happened to Jim.
"Not right away, but I came to that eventually," Moira admitted blankly, still captured by her memories. It didn't last for too long though, as she steeled herself and added:
"And now I need to help you, even if I'm quite lost at the moment. I simply have no idea what you expect to get from me. You're a troll, so I doubt that you're interested in keeping your son human for as long as possible. And to be honest, despite decades of research, I still haven't found any solution for that one, so I wouldn't able to help with that in any case. Providing a shelter? Something tells me that you've never had any problems with covering your tracks, not to mention that someone of your ilk would be able to obliterate any danger to your child, unlike other parents who came to me. So what would you like to get from this old hag then?"
She was right - there wasn't much Barbara could get here.
"Some knowledge will be good," she answered reluctantly. "If you had been researching, you clearly know more than me."
"Well, perhaps, I can share a copy of some records," Moira nodded after some consideration. "Anything else?"
The only possible answer should have been 'no'. There were no other variants.
Yet...
She succumbed to disgusting temptation, to some selfish thought.
"You've said that there's no way to stop or slow down the process," Barbara started slowly. "But is there a way to force the change to happen at once or at least, speed it up?"
Was that a shadow of disappointment in the old witch's eyes? Her tone remained steady and calm though:
"Well, it makes sense for you to wish that... It's actually possible, after all, your son's human form is granted by magic, which will fade away eventually even without interventions... And to break it faster... Hmm, any stuff strengthening troll instincts will do - as far as I know, your kind has a great number of options when it comes to that, including some dangerously potent ones..."
"Gravesand," the mother muttered. Abusing that one never led to anything good, not to mention that it was a truly vile substance made from Gumm-Gumm ground bones...
In the end, Barbara never had the guts to use the acquired knowledge, even though there was a jar containing gravesand hidden in one of the cabinets (she made sure it was the one, where Jim would never look in even by mistake). That was proof of her sin, proof of her weakness, proof that she was a horrible mother.
He'll never forgive me for that.
The woman cast another glance at her son. He looked so peaceful in his sleep.
Was there any need to hurry up? The current Trollhunter was just a fleshbag- he would never last long, and the amulet would end in the Gunmar's party's possession really soon. Jim wouldn't get involved in all of that anyway, so it was pointless to destroy his current peaceful life.
And Stricklander… Probably, another reminder to him not to overstep the boundaries would be more than enough.
The gravesand should have stayed where it was at the moment. Or even better - Barbara considered throwing it out for good. But no, that wouldn't be wise to leave that stuff unattended.
She probably should have started to look for a way to destroy it without consequences.