No matter how many years had passed, and how many human experiences she had had, Barbara still preferred to avoid asking for help. It went against her pride as the daughter of Gunmar, and, well, she could deal with most things without anyone else involved.
Unless it was that accursed cooking.
Or her current predicament.
Besides, it wasn't like there was an abundance of people she could actually trust. Luckily, for better or worse, one of those had reappeared in her life. So, at the moment, Barbara was trying to reach Sarah by phone.
Her old friend hadn't picked up for a while, but then it connected, and an irritated voice hissed:
"I don't care who're you, but even if you're an illegal child of an ancient deity - don't call me at this ungodly early hour!"
That came out of nowhere.
"It's 10 AM," Barbara couldn't help rolling her eyes. She didn't remember Freckles being an owl - if anything, her routine in the witches' village suggested otherwise.
"Gee, Barverra, for someone pulling all-nighters as well, you surprisingly lack any sympathy," Sarah yawned. "At least tell me it's important…"
"Well, I've put a stop to the incoming war," Barbara decided to throw some good news first. "The unrest might last for a while, but the Janus Order will back down…"
"Oh, and how many guys have lost their heads?"
At times, it actually felt like any single person expected the Herald of Doom to kill non-stop. Not that her reputation suggested a peaceful and benevolent approach, but…
"I don't kill daily. You mixed me up with my brother… Besides, why do you even bother?" Barbara started to lose her cool. Deep inside, she understood that her anger was irrational, besides, apparently, she was avoiding the main topic.
That was getting ridiculous already.
"Whatever."
It was easy to imagine Sarah shrugging indifferently and…
"So what do you want? And please, don't try to tell me you just called to deliver the news. I'm one of the first, who gets the updates on our status quo with various factions, I'd learn it in any case."
Somehow Barbara was cursed with too many sharp people around. Her old friend had no problem reading her even through the phone conversation.
"Well, I wanted to consult with you about a vital topic."
"Color me intrigued. What do you want?"
"How can I become a good mother?"
No, she knew perfectly how ridiculous and even dumb it sounded. The silence on the other side sounded nearly uncanny. For a second, Barbara even suspected it had disconnected, but…
"I hang up."
The response was short and emotionless, but apparently, Sarah didn't mean that as she continued with a full-blown rant:
"Do I look like a motherly type to you? Come on, I suck when it comes to dealing with kids! I cannot stand them! If anything, you know more on this topic!"
Well, deep inside, Barbara had expected this kind of reaction from the very start. Her question was simply moronic, to put it lightly. Alas, it wasn't like she had many options when it came to discussing her current predicament. Sarah just happened to be the only one around with the full knowledge of everything.
"I've thought you're more or less a good parent," her friend's voice warmed up at last. "I mean, except for that lack of trust. You're caring, protective, and, I believe, relatively accepting and understanding. You also don't try to control your son, so…"
Apparently, Sarah made a weak attempt to cheer up Barbara, however… Yes, it wasn't something she expected or wished to hear.
"I keep failing," she admitted, interrupting her old friend. "I run in circles. You told me to talk to Jim - but it's not only about talking. His life will turn upside down. I won't be able to keep him away from all the troll stuff, even if he decides to stay away from basically everything. In any scenario, Jim will need to forsake everything he's learned for nearly sixteen years and start anew…"
Barbara winced after saying that aloud. So that one was the most problematic point for her, not even the fact that her son would learn about her not-that-sweet background.
"Well, I seriously doubt anyone in this world would be able to give you thoughtful advice because I don't think anyone has ever been in your shoes. It's not about being a good or bad mom," Sarah sighed and muttered some profanities under her breath. Apparently, she was fed up with all that stuff already - and Barbara couldn't even blame her old friend for that.
"Do you want to be a good troll parent after you tell your kid everything?"
Sarah was too keen, that was for sure. Otherwise, how would she figure out Barbara's hidden wish?
"I just hope that Jim will accept that part of me he knows nothing about…"
And preferably wouldn't freak out if she suggested sword lessons. Or wouldn't run away after learning some gruesome pages of troll history.
"Ok, let me clarify - you won't go 180 degrees with your attitude after the big reveal, but you want some adjustments, yes?"
"Exactly."
Some adjustments - Sarah had actually formulated it the best way. Barbara would never even think about changing her overall attitude towards her son even if her family didn't approve of such an approach.
"The thing is that I don't want to be like my father when it comes to raising my son, and…"
Wait, had she actually voiced that? Open criticism of Gunmar's upbringing methods?
It was wrong, so wrong. Weren't she the one who failed as a parent? Her father, on the other hand…
"Hey, Barverra, may I ask an insensitive question?"
"I've thought you're mercilessly honest with me from the very start," Barbara barely held a chuckle, temporarily forgetting her anxieties. "And you're scared to offend me now?"
That was rather ridiculous. Sarah had already voiced so many opinions, which could end in certain death if it had been someone else. Being more cautious (or was it considerate?) right now made no sense altogether.
"Well, it's a sore spot for you as far as I know… Anyway, is your father considered a good parent among other trolls?" she sounded unsure, reluctant even. That was rather uncharacteristic.
And…
Barbara suddenly realized that her response wouldn't be 'yes, of course'.
"It's… difficult," she started slowly. "Other tribes will call him a horrible father for sure, but he is the role parent by Gumm-Gumm standards…"
"Yikes, it's exactly like Charlotte said…"
Charlotte. Her other old friend's name came out of nowhere. Barbara still hadn't asked Freckles about the other two girls she had hanged out with during her stay in the witches' village. It wasn't easy to admit, but she didn't want to hear that any of them had passed away already.
"And what did she say?" she inquired, shaking off an unpleasant foreboding.
"That you had a horrible childhood, so we should have been kinder to you… It was back during those times when you struggled to pass for human," Sarah responded after some pause. "Personally, I didn't believe her back then. Besides, you were all the 'Father this' and 'Father that'. Whatever kind of bastard he is, you still love him - and who am I to condemn your familial feelings? Besides, I know nothing about the troll culture…"
Barbara frowned. Well, her old friend was right - at some point, her devotion to Gunmar had rivaled Bular's. And most likely, back then, she would slice into the mincemeat anyone who would dare to badmouth her father. Yet now…
Yes, she had started questioning his methods herself. Apparently, she had failed as a good daughter too.
"There's another thing I wonder about…" Sarah seemingly hesitated. What could she possibly want to ask about? Was it worse than questioning Gumm-Gumm methods of raising whelps?
"Go on," Barbara muttered. She had tried to get some advice yet somehow ended with an unrelated conversation. Probably, her old friend wished to get some revenge for waking her up.
"Your mother."
"What?"
For a second, she thought she had misheard. Why would anyone ask about that?
"Your mother, mom, mama, whatever you called her," Sarah grumbled impatiently. "You should have one unless there's something I'm not aware of!"
"Oh."
She was right. The daughter of Gunmar was also the daughter of Aeterra - not that Barverra had ever bothered with mentioning her second title.
And why would she? There were only two things she had inherited from her mom - her swords and her appearance, with the latter being more of a nuisance.
"Why are you even asking about her?"
"Well, someone, whose name I won't say, asked me how to be a good parent. I'm trying to find some good role model for you, if you haven't noticed," Sarah snorted, probably not that happy that her suggestion wasn't met enthusiastically. "I've thought, perhaps, your mom could work as one… Was she even worse?"
"No idea."
It was an unpleasant confession. In the end, Aeterra was simply one of those countless trolls Gunmar had obliterated. Barbara didn't even remember if she had ever called that female 'Mother'. Using someone like that as a role model? Wasn't it kind of pointless?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She might have hanged up a long time ago, yet Sarah's question had obviously opened a can of worms. Barbara could probably argue for hours that trolls had a different culture and different views on what was 'normal', 'appropriate', or 'justified', however, in the end, some things were pretty universal.
Mother.
She whispered the word in her mind, recalling the image of the smallish yet fierce female troll. Like she suspected, it felt odd, uncanny, and not fitting. Trying something more affectionate? That would be even more pointless.
Barbara groaned. Seriously, why had she even bothered with Sarah's dumb suggestion? Hadn't she met anyone who could work as a more fitting role model as a parent?
The true horror of the realization was that apparently, the answer was 'highly unlikely'. Gumm-Gumm culture of upbringing was simple and brutal - you succeeded as a parent there as long as you got your whelp the deadliest weapon possible and taught them to go for a throat. Nothing too stellar - yet also something Barbara would never try.
Other troll tribes were obviously better, but… Yeah, her experience seeing troll parents there mostly involved her massacring the entire families, not seeing them acting in peaceful situations.
In the time of facing death though, a good chunk of those would choose to play bait - even if for winning a bleak chance for their offspring to escape.
Barverra had never understood that attitude back then - she had a reputation of someone who had never failed to capture her prey. Had those fools actually believed that delaying such a deadly enemy for some minutes would make a change?
Irrational.
Pointless.
She used to ridicule those actions. Right now? She would act the same if there was a need for that.
Perhaps, being a good parent was already irrational and not something you could learn from someone else.
And Barverra's mother… Not that she hadn't remembered her good enough - troll memories were set in stone, never disappearing entirely. She had just consciously decided to shove those aside - what was the point of recalling someone who had played a minimal role in her life?
Yet right now, Barbara could help but turn back to those. Perhaps there was something she could view in a way different light after becoming a mother herself…
Barverra enjoyed perching on her father's shoulder all the time, watching his daily routine as a true and magnificent king. When he fought, she slid lower, peeking curiously from behind his shoulder - she might have been younger but knew better not to become an easy target for an enemy.
However, right now, Gunmar was resting upon his throne, dealing with his ruler's responsibilities. Barverra found those relatively dull but tried to listen attentively not to disappoint her father - he had told her to learn as much as possible.
There were some tiresome reports about some clashes with other tribes - she barely held a yawn listening about all those 'advances, losses and retributions'. Yes, in the several decades, she would become the one hearing out all of the data, but at this point in time, those made no sense altogether.
Barverra's ears perked a bit when two burly soldiers dragged a chained troll before her father.
"And… What is this?" Gunmar inquired indifferently, watching captive with a mixture of disgust and annoyance.
"A deserter, my Liege!" one of the soldiers kicked the chained troll. "He got scared, and because of him our lines were broken!"
Barverra climbed higher, placing herself right in-between her father's horns to get a better look. She had no idea what 'deserter' meant. Perhaps, it was a rare opportunity to see a rare species or something. Alas, that deserter didn't seem that different from a regular Gumm-Gumm.
"Lately, it happens too often for my liking," Gunmar hummed. "Perhaps, there's a need for a harsher punishment…"
The captive's eyes got full of terror, and even the soldiers shivered at their king's tone.
Barverra knew that mood - it usually meant heads rolling in some seconds. That should have been way more fun, yet…
Her father suddenly smirked as if remembering something.
"Luckily for you, I'm in a good mood today," he started. "I'll let my dear daughter judge you instead."
"Me?" Barverra nearly fell off his back out of surprise. Usually, she was told to stay quiet and watch diligently. Had her father finally acknowledged her worth?
"Yes," he reached behind, grabbing his daughter by her scruff and dropping her on his knee instead - without any doubt, to give her a better view. "So, what do you think, child?"
Barverra looked at the deserter once again.
Shivering.
Scared.
Pathetic.
"Well," she muttered, gathering her courage and hoping not to sound dumb, "he's a coward, and we don't need cowards in your hordes…"
"Very insightful, my child. Though, it's our hordes, not mine only," Gunmar nodded and turned to the captive. "See? Even a naive whelp thinks it's a problem!"
"But, my Liege…" the deserter attempted to protest, yet got silenced immediately as one of his guards poked him with a spear.
"So, how should we punish that trash, my beloved daughter?" Gunmar asked. "I'll respect any decision."
Barverra knitted her eyebrows together. That had to be an important decision, so she couldn't say something foolish.
"Crush his skull."
Yes, that one had to be the best - it fitted her father's moniker perfectly, besides, she enjoyed watching him doing that effortlessly.
There was no need for confirmation. Somehow, she knew that Gunmar approved, so she jumped onto his shoulders once again to witness the execution.
It had always been so thrilling. Decimaar high in the air. Pure horror in a hapless victim's eyes. Sometimes pointless, desperate pleads. Sometimes wails. Sometimes shrill shrieks.
And then the sword would fall down on the victim's head, shattering it into thousand pieces.
Gunmar would never fail in taking someone's life after condemning them to demise.
It wasn't different this time as well - just another one of his executions. A trivial part of his routine. Yet, for Barverra, it always felt so exciting and awesome.
"I wish I could kill as easily," she mumbled, watching two troll soldiers cleaning the remains.
Gunmar laughed, ruffling her hair roughly:
"Patience, Little One. One day your enemies will freeze in terror after hearing your name!"
"Really?"
"Without any doubt. For you are my daughter, my kin."
Barverra beamed. Her father was surely a way kinder today, so she hadn't disappointed him.
"It never ceases to amaze me how far you're willing to go," someone muttered angrily.
"But haven't you enjoyed the scene I've shown you?" Gunmar smirked, turning in the direction of the voice. Barverra followed suit, finally noticing her mother standing at some distance.
"Why would I?" Aeterra scowled.
Usually, Gunmar would have considered such an insolence unacceptable, however, this one had been a rare exception for some reason.
It had never made any sense to Barverra. Why would her mother be that different from any other troll her father obliterated? Not that she wished that, of course, but it was still odd and illogical.
"Shouldn't a good mother be proud of her child's growth?" Gunmar smirked, obviously enjoying the exchange.
Now it became even more confusing. Barverra half-expected another angry retort, yet… Yes, Aeterra just bit her lip and clenched her fists silently.
"What, no smart talk today?" Gunmar looked at her with evident disappointment. "Too upset? Well, you've brought it upon yourself. You could become one of my generals, and I'd allow my daughter to spend more time with you. But now? Unlike a certain someone, I'm a responsible parent. How can I allow a fool and possible traitor to raise my precious child?"
That conversation was unpleasant. Barverra hated it even if she couldn't explain the reason for that dislike. It just made her too uncomfortable, ruining the previous good mood.
She didn't want both her parents present.
It would be so much better if one of them left, and…
Yes, it actually didn't matter who - as long as there was only one of them near her, it would be more than enough.
"Would you mind stopping this pointless talk?" Aeterra inquired, her fingers already curled around her blade's handle. "The only thing that means anything is if our deal is still valid."
Gunmar smirked, pointing Decimaar at her.
"Sure thing. You kill me - and you can have our daughter all to yourself…"
He looked behind his shoulder, noting his daughter still clutching into his scruff.
"Barverra, get down!" he barked in a tone that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
"But…" she pouted, trying to protest.
It was useless - her father grabbed her roughly, throwing her off. Barverra barely managed to land on her feet. Gunmar definitely wasn't joking.
"I don't need a handicap to win," he spat with unconcealed irritation.
Handicap.
Barverra still didn't know the meaning of that word, yet somehow it felt so unpleasant to be called that. It sounded like an insult.
Not that she was going to complain - her father taught her that only weaklings complained, and she wasn't one of those!
The spot Gunmar had grabbed throbbed a bit, so Barverra rubbed it carefully, making sure that no one had noticed. The daughter of the unbeatable Skullcrusher should have stayed strong no matter what happened.
She shifted her attention to her parents, who both had assumed battle stances already. Not that it was their first fight Barverra witnessed - quite the contrary, they clashed every time Aeterra approached Gunmar, and…
The result was the same every single time.
No, of course, her mother's battle style was impressive - she was quick and agile, splendid in evading and landing unpredictable attacks. It was beautiful and deadly graceful and would be truly dangerous if Aeterra faced someone else.
Yet all of that simply wasn't enough against Gunmar. He was just a genuine embodiment of the unstoppable calamity, destroying everything on his way. No wonder each of the opponents he had had lately could only experience utter despair after clashing with him.
And Aeterra kept losing in each of their battles, quite often beaten to the pulp but never giving up. Each fight always ended when Gunmar said so. If he got bored, he just commanded someone to drag the stubborn female away.
However, at times…
"Well, let's stop for today," he lowered Decimaar, looking at the heavily panting Aeterra with a satisfied smirk. "I was entertained this time. You can have Barverra for a day…"
Yes, that was the second possibility - at times, the mother managed to win some precious time to spend with her daughter. Apparently, it didn't even depend on her performance - just some luck and Gunmar's mood.
The Skullcrusher left, never turning back. Why should he have, though? He was the victor, so whatever was going on behind his back had never concerned him in the slightest.
His daughter knew good enough she couldn't follow him - she had tried once, and it hadn't ended well. Her father had always been terrifying in his anger.
Aeterra collapsed, then rolled on her back, looking somewhere up forlornly. Barverra tiptoed closer, slightly curious.
Was there something interesting under their heads? She lay on her back as well, trying to get a nice look.
Nope, only some goblins crawling the stalactites. Just regular boring stuff. Though, maybe her mother enjoyed watching those pests or something. Some trolls had dumb hobbies, after all.
"Barverra."
Her mother calling her name started her. Should she have responded? How?
"You're not obligated to stay with me."
Luckily, Aeterra didn't want any reply.
"Father will get angry," Barverra shook her head. "And…"
"Barverra," her mother interrupted her with a sigh, "whatever is going on between your father and me… You're not a trophy - and never let anyone treat you like one. Do whatever you want, not what Gunmar or I want… I'm sure there's something you'll rather do instead of hanging with me…"
Well, probably she was right. There were so many activities Barverra could do instead, like watching Gumm-Gumm soldiers spar, trying to steal eggs from a Nyarlagroth, or even finding some whelp to fight with, but…
"Nah, I'll stay," she shrugged, not that sure herself what exactly had possessed her to say that.
Perhaps, it wasn't as interesting to spend time with her mother, but was it that bad?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Why other trolls are scared of you? You're not that strong!"
No matter how much Barverra thought, that part didn't make sense. At all. She could understand everyone shivering before Gunmar, but her mother? She was nowhere close to that level!
"Scared?" Aeterra raised her eyebrows. "Why do you think they're scared?"
Barverra huffed - she hated when others treated her like a dumb whelp.
"Come on, they're bowing to you," she kicked some pebble in irritation. "Why would they if they weren't afraid?"
Aeterra blinked several times in disbelief, then chuckled:
"Dear child, it's called respect - and it has nothing to do with fear…"
Respect. Yet another confusing concept that made no sense. Why everything surrounding her mother was like that?
"Hey, don't be angry, ok?" Aeterra's hand ran through her daughter's hair tenderly. It felt so different from Gunmar's approving pats - just gentler, lighter, and…
There was something else in that action, but Barverra failed to identify it. At least, she could say it wasn't anything bad.
"I'll forgive you if you show me some of your moves," she looked up at her mother. So what if she wasn't that strong? Her skill with swords was awesome.
"Well, why not?" Aeterra smiled faintly, though her eyes stayed sad.
Barverra couldn't understand that. Weren't spars the most exciting thing ever? Though, probably her mother was simply upset that she couldn't have taught her daughter before or something…
"You can take this one," Aeterra handed Barverra one of her swords.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Father never lets me touch his Decimaar."
Somehow, she came to believe that taking someone else's weapon was forbidden. Maybe her mother was just an odd one.
Anyway, the sword she had gotten was so beautiful and deadly. Barverra examined it in awe. It would be so nice to own something similar.
She tried to swing it. The blade felt slightly heavy, so she nearly lost her balance. Perhaps, she should have tried a two-handed grip instead.
Aeterra smiled at her antics.
"So you want to go for a dual wielding?"
"Yep, I think it'll fit me better," Barverra nodded, trying to imitate a slash she had seen during her parents' battle. The sword nearly slipped from her grip.
"Careful," her mother sighed, approaching her and correcting her grip. "And pay attention to your footing. The one who loses the balance usually dies first."
"Father says that the main rule is to go for a head," Barverra huffed, not willing to admit that Aeterra was right, even if the corrected stance allowed way more mobility.
"Your father has a different fighting style," the mother shrugged indifferently. "In a battle, you use your strong points. Everyone following the same rules is detrimental."
They continued practicing in silence, with some rare exceptions where Aeterra pointed out mistakes.
The entire mood was so awkward that Barverra wished she could break that silence somehow, and…
She simply had no idea how.
"Hopefully, one day I'll have my own swords…"
Yes, it was rather random but still better than nothing.
Her mother flinched for whatever reason.
"You can inherit mine," she forced a weak smile, trying to get a hold of herself.
"Do you tell me to kill you?" Barverra stared at her in disbelief.
"Why would you…" Aeterra started as shocked as her daughter.
"Father always says if I want Decimaar, I should kill him. Isn't it the rule?"
Gunmar had won his sword after defeating Orglark, so… Why would it be different from everyone else?
Barverra took a quick glance at her mother's face - and unwittingly took a step back. Not that long ago, she had doubted Aeterra's ability to instill fear. Now? Yes, she was genuinely terrifying, easily rivaling the Skullcrusher himself.
Yet…
Yes, her mother was obviously too different from her father - her scary expression went away the second she noticed her daughter's fear.
"It's not a rule," she shook her head, ruffling Barverra's hair. "Children often inherit their weapons from their parents. Without killing anyone. It's another show of respect, demonstration of willingness to carry on your ancestors' will…"
"I see," her daughter muttered, even though she hadn't understood most of the explanation. "But how would you go without your swords?"
Aeterra laughed at that comment but never responded properly…
XXXXXXXXXX
Yes, that one was the memory of that first time Barverra spent with her mother without being forced to do that.
There had been several more later, and at some point, it might have turned into an actual familial bond, but… Aeterra had fallen before it had become possible as Gunmar had gotten tired of their battles and finished everything for good.
Barbara wondered if she could understand her mother now, after being a parent herself.
Fighting someone way stronger only for a bleak chance to spend some time with her child?
She could understand that, but if anyone had ever dared to keep Jim away from her… That one would never be allowed to set their own rules.
You're thinking from the position of strength.
The inner voice reprimanded her for her arrogant stance, however, Barbara dismissed it at once. So what? She was strong, meaning she could set the rules. Besides, who could potentially take away her son while posing any threat?
Stricklander?
Trollhunter's party?
She would have obliterated both if they had ever dared to step in that direction.
Stricklander has already done that, though.
Barbara really hated her mind for reminding her of that little detail. Of course, she was more than sure that the cunning bastard had been bluffing, but the minuscule possibility still remained, driving her crazy from paranoia.
Jim was her weak spot, and…
A handicap for enemies to abuse.
Once upon a time, Gunmar had called Barverra a handicap. She wasn't his weakness, no.
But she was her mother's. Aeterra would never have gone all out with her child so close to danger.
Now Barbara could partially see why Sarah had suggested considering her mother as a role model. Sure thing, her old friend simply couldn't know everything, probably making a wild guess, but…
"It seems we're not that different, Mo…" Barbara whispered, cutting herself mid-word. Like she suspected, she still couldn't call Aeterra 'Mother'. It simply didn't feel right.
Besides, they might have been in a similar position regarding their children, but…
Aeterra hadn't submitted to Gunmar, preferring her pride to the real chance to become a family with her daughter.
She had been willing to let Barverra go after winning a rare opportunity to stay with her.
Had you given up on me?
Barbara couldn't help asking that question. She hadn't realized before that the real reason she hadn't thought that often about her mother was that centuries-old resentment.
It was so dumb, so childish. What had she even expected from Aeterra? Killing Gunmar? Throwing away her pride? As if Barverra could ever have respected someone like that back then!
And…
'You're not a trophy - and never let anyone treat you like one.'
Funnily enough, she had taken that advice to her heart, learning to cherish her own worth. And obviously, Barbara would never think of Jim as some kind of 'trophy', so probably she hadn't failed in that regard, and…
No, something was too off, refusing to connect properly. She was overlooking something again. It was as if she had missed an important detail, and it was drifting away at the moment.
But what could that one possibly be?