Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 12th August 2021

The day Douxie (apparently Hisirdoux Casperan XIV, and what kind of family passed a name like that down for thirteen generations?) moved in, Barbara was at home.

He arrived, as promised, at two in the afternoon. The only things he brought with him were a duffel bag that couldn't be more than half full, a guitar case, and his cat. Nothing else.

It stuck in Barbara's craw that he didn't have anything more. What kind of world was it that so badly failed kids needing a home?

"Right, so here's your room," she said, opening the door. "You're right next to Jim, and my room's across the hall."

"Thank you very much," he said quietly, setting his bag on the bed and shouldering off his guitar case, leaning it against the wall. His cat promptly jumped up on his now vacant shoulder. Douxie took a breath, seemed at a loss for words. "No one's ever... well, there was one person, but I haven't seen him in years."

"It's okay."

"Are there any house rules you'd like me to be aware of?"

"A few. Do you want to go over them now?"

"Please."

They ended up at the dining table, each with a mug of tea. Barbara had given up coffee years before after becoming aware that she'd been functionally addicted to the stuff. Physician, know thyself. "I guess the first thing is, no drugs or drinking."

Douxie chuckled. "You know I'm nineteen, right?"

"Yes. I'm also a doctor and know that the number twenty-one has never magically stopped anyone below it from getting their hands on illicit materials."

"Right. Well, neither of those will be a problem, I swear."

"If you want to have a girl over-"

"No girls," Douxie interrupted.

"Or a boy," Barbara said, testing.

"Not really into that either," said Douxie.

"Oh." Barbara considered that for a minute.

"My friend thinks I'm just a late bloomer," Douxie offered.

"Okay." Barbara accepted that at face value, rather than prying further into the possible mysteries of the ace spectrum, something of which she had only limited, somewhat academic, knowledge. "Regardless. Jim and I have a chore wheel, and I'd like you to take a few slots on that."

"I'm not really a cook, so I'll leave that to Jim, if that's all right with him," Douxie said. "But I'm pretty good at pushing brooms around by now, so I'll take on the cleaning?"

"Sounds good. And, I guess last thing, no guitar playing or loud music while other people are sleeping."

"Of course not." Douxie looked thoughtful. "Do you and Jim have a whiteboard for your schedules, or a calendar?"

Barbara blinked. "With just the two of us, I hadn't thought of that. That's a good idea. I'll pick one up."

Douxie nodded. "Just, with me working two jobs and rehearsing with my band, and Jim having the school play now, and I don't even know what your schedule is like, Doctor Lake..."

"It's a good idea," Barbara repeated. "And also, call me Barbara."

"Right. Thank you again, Barbara."


"Wait, Douxie's moving into your spare bedroom?" Toby asked.

Looking over his conjugation notes from Spanish class, Jim tapped his pencil against his notebook. "Yup."

"Why?" Toby's face was a study in confusion.

Jim looked at his best friend. "Because he's a good guy who's been dealt a rough hand." Toby looked blank and inquisitive, so Jim added, "He's nineteen, his parents are dead, he's working two minimum-wage jobs, and living in a back room behind the bookstore."

Toby's mouth shut. After a minute, he said, "Yeah, okay, that's pretty rough. Hey, you think he and me could make, like, an orphans club or something? You could be an honorary member, Jimbo."

Jim winced.

"Ooh, too soon?" asked Toby.

"No, just... harsh, Toby." Thoughts of lost relationships with Blinky, who had been a mentor to him, and Strickler, who had more than once tried to kill Jim, but who had also been on the verge of becoming his stepfather, flashed through Jim's mind.

(He never noticed how James Lake, Senior didn't even factor in.)

Forcing himself away from thoughts of things he might yet rebuild, Jim forced a small laugh. "Maybe you guys should make it a magician's club, and I'll be your audience."

"Ooh, I like that even better!" Toby perked up, then wilted. "Hey, you don't, uh, think this will interfere with, you know?" He nodded subtly toward his backpack, where the Amulet of Daylight was hidden.

"Nah. I think it'll be just fine," Jim answered, smiling. "Hey, what's Blinky got you doing tonight?"

Toby groaned. "There's this gnome stealing things at Bagdwella's place, and apparently I have to go fish it out, and I really don't even know how I'm supposed to do that..."

"Oh," said Jim, remembering that particular (mini, heh) adventure. "Hey, do you want me to tag along?" he asked. "For, um, moral support?"

"Heck, yeah!"

Jim bit back a grin. Tiny Toby was going to be so cute.

And then Coach Lawrence entered the room, and they had to pretend to pay attention.


A few hours later, Barbara left for her night shift at the hospital. Douxie, not having his own night shift at Benoit's today, walked next door to the Domzalski residence and rang the bell.

Nancy Domzalski answered the door. "Hello?" she asked, peering up at Douxie.

"Hello, Missus Domzalski," Douxie greeted Toby's grandmother. "I'm Hisirdoux Casperan. Barbara and Jim Lake are letting me stay in their guest room for a bit, so I thought I'd come over and introduce myself." Surreptitiously, he cast a protective spell on the front door. They'd been lucky so far that Bular hadn't seemed to have picked up on Toby's being the Trollhunter. Strickler had once confessed to stalling Bular on killing Jim; here, they couldn't count on him or that luck to last.

"Oh, isn't that nice of you. Hisirdoux... is that a French name?"

"I'm not actually sure. I was born in Wales, but my parents passed away before I was curious enough to ask."

"Well, why don't you come inside, dear, and tell me a bit about yourself? I haven't been to Europe since the end of the war, you know."

Following her, Douxie took advantage of Nancy's vision problems and juggled wards, casting them on every door and window he saw. They wouldn't stop someone from looking in, but they certainly would keep any uninvited visitors out for long enough that he or Jim could respond.

"I hope you like chocolate chip cookies," Nancy said, setting down a plate.

Douxie grinned. "I love them. So tell me, which war were you in?"


Waltolomew Stricklander watched through his classroom window as school let out for the day and his students left the campus either for home or other afterschool activities.

His gaze caught on Jim Lake and Toby Domzalski, the pair, as almost always, together.

He smiled briefly; he quite liked Young Atlas, and thought he had a lot of potential. Even after so many centuries of life, it was refreshing to now and again meet a human who gleamed like, well, "a diamond in the rough," to borrow a phrase from last year's school play.

Though he wasn't quite sure what to think of the boy's blatant attempt to set him up with his mother. It wasn't unheard-of, for a student wishing to curry favor with a teacher, but Jim's history grades were exemplary. So there clearly had to be some other motivation at work.

Waltolomew turned his thoughts to the woman herself. Barbara Lake was beautiful, friendly, and charming. Also highly intelligent, given her work as a doctor, and it was clear from the way her son had turned out that she was a warm, loving parent. She was almost enough to make a man consider a relationship worth the emotional investment.

But he was not any man, he was a changeling. And while there were some few of his kind who had entered into relationships, either with trolls or humans, Waltolomew was not among them. He did not care to mask his nature to what should be a life's partner, and he had no illusions that either species could or would accept one of his kind for what they were.

Still, there was no harm in a casual flirtation, and he wished to find out the truth of Jim's motives, amusing as they no doubt would be once uncovered.

At least, that was what he told himself as he pulled out his phone and dialed Barbara's number.

Unbidden, his lips curved in a smile again as she answered.


"Well," Vendel said as the Trollhunter and his friend arrived at Bagdwella's, presumably ready to take on the extermination, "it's about time you arrived."

"Sorry we had school today," the Trollhunter shot back.

"Ah, here you are, Master Toby, Master Jim!" Blinkous bustled up, Aaarrrgghh, as always, right behind him. "We're just about ready to begin. If you'll just-"

"A moment, Blinkous," Vendel interrupted. "I accompanied this young human to your library the other day, and I witnessed something most interesting. A human, who has known of our kind less than a fortnight, reading your books, written in Trollish, easily."

There was surprise on the faces of three of them. The human in question just looked at Vendel, his expression defiant.

"The safety of Trollmarket is not the duty of the Trollhunter alone," Vendel said. "I will not let an outsider harm any under my charge." He reached into his pouch and pulled out a magical item.

To his surprise, the human relaxed, even laughed. He reached out his hand and easily laid it on the metal, smiling brightly as his body did not react, did not change.

Astounded, Vendel took the item back. He'd been sure, he'd been so sure...

"What's that?" asked the Trollhunter.

"A gaggletack," Blinkous informed him. "It is an artifact which will unmask any changeling."

"Wait, what's a changeling?"

And as Blinkous explained that to the Trollhunter, the boy, Jim, stepped closer to Vendel. "I know you're just trying to protect Trollmarket," he said sotto voce, "but I'm really not the enemy, Vendel. I want Bular and Gunmar dead just as much as you do."

"You keep secrets, boy. How am I supposed to accept your word?" Vendel demanded.

Jim shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to wait, and watch, and see if I earn your trust or not."

"Unlikely," Vendel said.

"Anything's possible," the boy replied, and went back to the others.

Disturbed, Vendel left. He needed to research more. If the boy wasn't a changeling, what under Earth could he be?


Much later that night, as Jim snuck into Toby's house, a tiny Trollhunter on one shoulder and a bag containing an unhappy gnome held in the other hand, Toby finally asked him. "Hey, Jimbo, what was that about?"

"What was what about?" Jim asked, knowing the answer already. He searched the living room and found an empty cat carrier. He tossed the bag with the gnome into it and locked it, then carried that up to Toby's room.

"You know, with you and Vendel, and he said you could read Trollish? How the heck can you read Trollish? You're barely passing Spanish!"

"Trollish is easier," Jim replied absently, stowing the carrier by Toby's bed, which he then sat on. He gave Toby a hand-ride over to the desk.

"Yeah, right." Tiny Toby gave him a dubious look. "You'd tell me if there was something really wrong, right?"

"Of course I would!" Jim said instantly. He paused, and had to consider things. "There is nothing wrong," he said quietly, and had to smile. "There is so really nothing wrong right now, Tobes. I promise."

Toby considered this and sat back on the stapler. "All right. If you say so. But you promise me you'll tell me if there is, right?"

"Pinky promise," Jim swore, extending his pinky. Toby tapped it with his. "And, hey, I had a thought." Reaching into his pocket, Jim pulled out a Nougat Nummy bar and held it up.

Toby's jaw dropped. He was so much smaller right now that the bar was monstrously huge.

Jim grinned and unwrapped it, set it on the desk.

"O. M. G!" Toby squealed and dove in. "Thanks, Jimbo! I need a snack after tonight. Trollhunting's hungry work, you know?"

Jim grinned and laid down on Toby's bed. His eyes caught on the cat carrier, where the gnome was growling and rattling around. "Hey, Tobes?"

"Yeah?" Toby's whole face was smeared with chocolate.

"Do you think the little guy just wants his own home?"

"Eh, maybe." Toby sucked nougat filling off one of his fingers. "What were you thinking?"

"Maybe we could set him up in the dollhouse?"

Toby considered it, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? Let's give it a try."

"He's going to need a name," Jim offered.

Toby sat back, considered that for a minute. "Gnome, gnomemobile, gnome gnome on the range... Gnome Chompsky!" he declared.

Jim laughed, glad to know some thing were the same. "Chompsky it is, then."


Author's Note: Others have paired Douxie off with Zoe, or Krel, or headcanoned him as ace. I have no particular horse in the race, so I decided to explore another option, which is one that follows my own personal experience: late bloomer. One of the things I disliked about high school (to the extent that it still sticks out for me nearly thirty years later) was the social pressure to start dating. I wasn't interested in dating until I was well into college. And since Douxie's been a teenager for nine hundred years, maybe he's the same way - not necessarily anything so much as just not ready yet. And, for those who caught it, Strickler references last year's play, and I decided Ms. Janeth had put on a production of Aladdin. ^_^