Turmoil. Dilemma. Contradiction. Since when she started to feel like that? Weren't there times when her own beliefs were the most constant? Yet now there was an obvious wavering. Why? In the end, peace was nothing but an illusion, a convenient game she learned to play. So why was it so treasured and enjoyable, even though war and bloodshed was more like her thing?
She was Barbara Lake now - a doctor, a mother, a peaceful resident of Arcadia, but all of that was just a facade, a role she had assumed - first quite reluctantly, but later with more conviction. Perhaps, the woman had to stop denying that she actually loved that kind of existence. Still it had never become the full truth, even if a part of her would wish otherwise.
The woman was lost in memories, thinking about her own life and the path that led her to the current point. It wasn't butterflies and sunshine, that was for sure. Centuries ago her name was still Barverra - and that one was feared and despised.
After all, the darkness had always been a part of her nature. It couldn't possibly be otherwise - her father was born out of conflict, out of strife and malice, out of the most horrible and ugliest side this world had. He was the amalgamation of the worst traits their kind ever had, unnatural, horror inducing and pure evil. Gunmar's birth was a blasphemy for a trollkind, something that even the most violent and malicious ones were not that willing to accept. Yet he also had more than enough power to prove his right for existence, coming on the top in the end even if that victory cost him his eye. Probably, that one actually gave a shape to his life philosophy - the one where one either trampled over everyone else or was destined to perish.
The entire world may have hated and despised Skullcrusher, shivering and covering in pure terror, yet Barverra couldn't deny that she was proud to be his daughter and one of his favorites. Her younger half-brother Bular might have been the one with more battle prowess, yet she was the one with a skill to instill as much fear as her father. All of Gunmar's enemies learned that lesson hard way - Bular was scary enough in his simple animalistic and unstoppable rage, but Barverra was just terrifying with her ability to notice all weak points and tendency to target families and friends. The one who dared to challenge her would always found their beloved ones being mercilessly slaughtered in the most gruesome way. Just crashing her foes' bodies were never enough for the daughter of Gunmar, she also aimed for minds and souls. Yes, she had been certainly known as a despicable fiend back then.
She may have lacked the stature and the vast majority would describe her as small, but it was a grave error to mistake Barverra for someone weak. She had more than enough clashes with enemies at least twice her size, always claiming the victory in the end. Barverra the Atrocious, the Herald of Doom - they called her that, telling children scary stories about her ferocity and sometimes even huge trolls preferred the humiliating retreat to challenging the violent female Gumm-Gumm.
Her only goal had always been to make her father's dream about world domination the reality. Barverra had no doubts that neither fleshbags, nor weakling trolls had any right to claim the Earth surface as their own. Bular and she, they both were Gunmar's most loyal followers, his right and left hand, the only two in entire world who followed him not because of fear or ulterior motives, the ones who would never left his side. In a way, facing Gunmar's children was no different of facing the Skullcrusher himself, as they shared his will, his vile ambitions and his malice.
It had never mattered to her that much that she had no goals of her own, no dreams or ambitions. Hell, Barverra had never even considered anything like that. No wonder that when everything collapsed she had felt only emptiness.
And then that cursed Killahead bridge battle happened, ending all of the evil plans at once. It seemed impossible, but almighty Gunmar and most of his followers were banished to the very depth of Darklands. Good-willed trolls were celebrating their triumph, chasing away and hunting the remains of once invisible evil army. A bunch of cowards who used to only hide and escape, were gaining bravery out of nowhere. And some clans, who had given a loyalty pledge to Gunmar suddenly preferred to act as if they were enslaved before.
Barverra couldn't help feeling partially guilty for allowing anything like that to happen - after all, plucking out any roots of inner rebellion and exterminating possible threats had been her responsibility. She had killed so many possible rioters, yet that Deya, the first Trollhunter had somehow escaped her notice. The dark princess had no idea how she managed to miss someone who was obviously a talented fighter and possessed enough charisma to inspire others. It was as if Deya appeared out of nowhere and that mystery was infuriating.
Ironically, both the son and daughter of the Gumm-Gumm king had avoided the fate of imprisonment. Sometimes, the female even thought that it was for worse - after all, it was still better than everything that followed, be it hostile attitude of some former so-called allies or non-stop retreating.
Back then, when the both of Skullcrusher's children were forced into humiliating hiding, Barverra hadn't even a slightest doubt that her simple-minded half-brother would chose the revenge and frontal assault as his next action. Sometimes she wondered how he even managed to live that long with his recklessness and tendency to act on impulses. Probably the only reason was that Bular had at least enough brains to follow Gunmar's commands and their father was well known for having a devious mind in addition to his monstrous strength. Unfortunately, his son did not inherit any semblance of that planning ability.
Still Bular probably had not enough brains after all, because he easily dismissed his elder sister's suggestions to regroup and try to think out some strategy and even accused her in treachery and cowardice. It ended in a nasty fight - an obvious result of bottled emotions they both had. Probably it would be wiser to make up afterwards, however Barverra just left her brother to his own antics. He could go and get himself killed as many times as he wanted and she would not care less. She was not a babysitter and she hated to fix any mess her dimwitted younger brother would end getting into. Two siblings parted ways without giving any farewells.
But without proper goal everything simply lost any sense. Bular at least had his stupid revenge plan. She didn't have even something like that. Barverra had never lived any different life and she definitely had no idea what to do anymore. So the daughter of Gunmar just roamed around, slaughtering random challengers or avengers she encountered sometimes. At first, there were some attempts to contact those clans who joined her father willingly in attempt to expand their own influence (there had always been enough aggressive and ambitious trolls, not to mention those who hated fleshbags with passion), yet there had been not even single one willing to support her case. So Barverra eventually ended avoiding huge gatherings of trolls. It was essentially just an escape - but what else could she do especially after she had learned that Killahead bridge was broken into numerous pieces and scattered around the world? Barverra was not a blockhead, she knew it was an impossible endeavor to gather all of those alone. She needed allies, but with current situation, no troll would openly support the Gunmar's faction. No one favored losing side and it was even more true for trolls.
Days turned into years and decades and at some point the infamous Herald of Doom just stopped bothering about counting the time.
She had already forgotten how, when or why she ventured to the New World. Was that out of desperation? Was it because some kind of sixth sense told her so? Though when it came to timeline Barverra could at least say that it was certainly before she had encountered witches and formed a temporary truce with them as that one definitely happened in the New World.
That alliance was quite crazy in hindsight, no matter how much she tried to find some kind of excuse later. Fleshbags were just livestock, just prey to hunt, fragile, weak, short-lived and only good as food. Honestly, Barverra found wizards and witches as fragile, but weak part was already dubious for many and short-lived was way too far from truth as powerful mages lived as long as trolls if not more. That alone was enough to earn some semblance of respect from the daughter of Gunmar's. Or at least, she told so to herself to minimize the humiliation.
Why had she made such decision though? Who knew... Maybe the female troll was just too tired of pointless roaming alone. Maybe she just saw enough similarities to relate, as other fleshbags were hunting and hating witches not unlike how trolls were treating the remains of the Gunmar's army. Or maybe it was just something less complicated like some kind of subconscious ulterior motive to find a temporary shelter instead of being on move all the time. Her choice to stay with witches and form an unlikely alliance surprised even her. But, well, Barverra's family had worked with Morgana before, so what was that different here?
So she stayed. The witches provided shelter and the daughter of Gunmar's was disposing of any hostile fleshbag who dared to attack the small settlement. That felt like a fair deal. Still, she tried to keep a low profile - there were rumors that the Trollhunter arrived to the New World as well. Barverra had no idea who was that - she would most likely be able to put at least a decent fight against Deya (even though she had only vague impression of that one's skill), but if there were some superior successor, it might have create huge troubles, especially now when the Herald of Doom had lost some prowess without constant fights involving serious foes.
It was a witch - the village elder - who suggested to Barverra hiding among fleshbags, receiving some pretty harsh sneers from the female troll. What was her response back then? Oh, yes - "As if I can pass as a fleshbag! It is not like I'm some kind of impure who can blend easily!"
In the worst case scenario the daughter of Gunmar would actually pass through human settlement - it wasn't like she had never attempted that before. A long cape with a hood was more than enough for the basic disguise. Her small build was an advantage here - while Barverra was taller than any human woman, she could still pass easily for a tall fleshbag male. Besides, she took after her mother, whose tribe was more famous for their speed, reflexes and agility, so her build and proportions were way more humanoid than her father's or brother's. Still you needed to be totally blind to mistake someone like her for a human from the close distance. On other hand, being nocturnal meant that Barverra could only do that when there wasn't much sunlight to start with.
But truth to be said, a part of Barverra was jealous of changelings' ability to turn into a human - not that the daughter of Gunmar would ever admit it aloud. They were never that restricted by sun and never cared about finding a proper hiding place at the daybreak. Impures were free in a way that not any other troll could imagine. Barverra might have despised them for their treacherous tendencies, but it was stupid to deny their advantages over regular trolls.
"And what if I say there's a way?" the witch seemed totally unfazed by her ally's rudeness and just smirked mysteriously.
The common sense told the daughter of Gunmar not to ask, even if for the sake of her own dignity, but it turned out that the sheer curiosity was way stronger. Or maybe she just had gone insane back then during her lonely roaming without goal.
Someone once told Barverra that it was unwise if not outright crazy to bargain with mages - their words were often like poison twisting your thoughts to the point that you agreed with them while believing it was your own decision. Was it true or just a superstition? Who could know for sure… Yet, the words coming from the witch's mouth were truly hard to accept or comprehend.
Wasn't that a turning point? It was the time when the daughter of Gunmar learned about something that changed her life for good. The witch told her about a potion with an ability to temporary turn any troll into a human being. Long time ago, back in times when humanity and trollkind were fighting for the surface lands, way before the Gunmar's birth, it was used quite excessively for various reasons, mostly for spying and reconnaissance, but had become quite pointless and obsolete when Morgana created the first changeling. Yet the recipe still remained intact and was passed for several generations until ending in the witch leader's hands.
It was tempting, but...
"And what's the downside? Weaknesses?" No one would be stupid enough not to question some dubious potion. And Barverra was never known for being reckless.
"Well, you will be a human being to the core. Isn't that one already the huge downside for any troll? Disgusting fleshbag, I think?" the witch just shrugged.
Barverra snorted. Her ally was right - the trollkind held their strength and durability in high regard and loosing those even temporary was just unthinkable to the point of being considered a blasphemy. It was much like putting down all defenses. Any reasonable troll knew that doing that would lead to immediate death.
"It won't hurt just to try, you know," the witch's voice was sweet and convincing, easily seeping through cracks of mental defenses.
The female troll had never come to any sound conclusion what kind of thing possessed her back then to agree to something so humiliating and disgraceful. She could easily picture Bular's ugly mug distorted by the sheer disgust if he ever learned about that. It would be so much wiser to react the same way and just prevent all of the incoming madness.
And what had she done instead?
"I'll try," that was her answer - the one that would most likely bring her the ruin sooner or later.
Though… It wasn't like she still had anything to lose back then. Without Gunmar around it was more like existence rather than full life.
The witch just held out a small vial with something blue swirling inside. It looked surprisingly innocent - the Gumm-Gumm princess somehow expected something more… Eerie? Impressive? Mysterious looking?
"Should I drink that?" Barverra was still slightly skeptical refusing to take the potion right away. When had she managed to fall that low to let someone else manipulate her actions?
The witch's smile was reminiscent of a cat playing with a mouse.
"Oh, no, it is potent enough - you just need to crush the vial".
Well, that one was easy for a troll hand. Not crushing would be way more of a challenge. Though Barverra probably needed to ask what that potent enough meant exactly, but it was already too late.
She expected some liquid, but it was more like smoke or mist, engulfing her entirely. And then it just happened. There was no pain, even though she half-expected some. It felt like a slight electrical current running through her body and then…
If Barverra needed only one word to describe her first impression, that would be weakness. Though, perhaps, fragility and vulnerability would fit perfectly too. It was like all the strength she was so proud of just slipped away. Not only that, but all the variety of sounds her ears had always been picking effortlessly, turned muted as if someone put down the volume and the rich world of unique smells simply limited itself to the selection of few stronger ones. She looked down at her arms - frail and fleshy, nothing like the sturdy dark stone she was that used to and the realization of making the grave mistake hit her like a brick wall.
For the first time in her entire life the daughter of Gunmar felt sheer terror and panic. It was not that kind of fear that sharpened awareness, no, it was the one that cut away all the common sense, leaving only the wish to run and hide. How could fleshbags even live with the knowledge that they could die so easily? The feel of her own pitiful state alone was enough to make her shiver.
She had to find at least something that would guarantee even a weak sense of security.
Barverra's eyes darted to her blades lying near the door. It was part of her silent agreement with the witch leader - every time the female troll visited the hut, she left her weapons by the entrance. Before it used to be just a formality, because it didn't matter that much as the daughter of Gunmar was still able to break the host's neck if the stupid fleshbag ever tried something funny. Now the tables were turned. The witch could easily destroy her with a simple spell if she wished so.
Barverra growled in powerless frustration wincing immediately at how pathetically it sounded with human vocal cords and made a dash for her reliable blades. After all, she could at least trust her honed skills even without superior strength.
Or not.
Picking up her weapon from any position and getting into the battle stance in few seconds used to be as natural as breathing and often decided outcome of a battle. It was perfected through the countless death battles - Gumm-Gumms rarely had a chance for an amicable spar in the end. But that was true for the troll body and the human one only proved its own uselessness once more - Barverra actually yelped when her favorite blade hadn't even budged and she just had hurt her wrist instead. The failure to get at least something for the self-defense was so much of a shock for the mind of the dark princess that it didn't even register her miserable and embarrassing fall on the butt, which followed.
There was some suspicious sound coming from the witch leader. No, that one was actually too familiar -Barverra couldn't believe her own ears. Was that actually barely concealed laugh? Was that fleshbag making fun of the fearsome troll now that she had nothing to fear? Was that the plan all along? Some kind of trap maybe?
Barverra looked up at the witch and hissed, putting as much anger and venom as possible in hope that it could work as a threat even with her current state in mind:
"Enough with your fun! Now turn me back!"
She hoped so much that the nightmare would end soon enough and she would be able to forget everything about her own embarrassment, but the answer had crushed all of that.
"Oh, dear," the woman's voice held clear amusement. "Haven't I told you that the potion is quite potent? There will be no turning back for two weeks at least. But isn't it nothing for an almighty troll? It should be like a blink to someone so long-lived!"
That had to be just a joke, yet… Two weeks. The entire fortnight. It was surely just a second for anybody with lifespan counted in centuries and at the same time it would definitely feel like an eternity for Barverra stuck in the frail and powerless human body…