argh too many names

Troll!Jim

I can’t think of a title yet, but anyway, here’s my contribution to small-yet-awesomesauce Trollhunters fandom! Very much inspired by @kurekoo underappreciated Troll!Jim art. I hope you enjoy!

It doesn’t normally take too long to get used to places, but in Jim’s position in Trollmarket, understandably, it’s a whole different story. A place like this would take a thousand lifetimes to even remotely begin to adjust to, but fortunately for him at the tender age of just sixteen, he’ll have a better chance than most.

He’d become familiar with the basics down here, the three rules practically ingrained into his subconscious now, yet human curiosity is one thing that no rule could control, especially if it involves incandescent green geodes abandoned on the floor outside the gyre station. Seeing that there was nobody around besides Blinky, who was at least twenty steps ahead (much larger steps than Jim’s, it’s worth noting), he reached down and picked the rock up, shoving it deep within his jacket pocket before catching up with Blinky, who was surprisingly oblivious to a bright green rock set against the shadowy stone floor.

“I heard it through what you humans call the grapevine that you have an important set of exams coming up soon, is that correct?” Blinky’s question forced Jim out of his fascination with the rock.

“Uh yeah, huh. Thanks for reminding me about that.” He replied caustically.

“Now now, Master Jim, these are important times as far as I’m aware! You have to keep up your appearances in school so you must take this seriously. Take a week off, study hard and the results will show! Argh! and I will take care of things down here.” Jim took Blinky’s word as gospel, and with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, he got sent off back to the surface. “You know where to find me if you need anything!”

“Likewise, I’ll see you later!” Jim shouted down to him as he ascended towards the portal. Argh! Would likely visit Toby at some point in an evening, so it isn’t as if he’d be completely devoid of the troll company he’d become acquainted to.

***

Unsurprisingly, the house was empty. Slinging his satchel over the bannister he took the stairs two at a time, striding into his room and crashing onto his bed with a sigh, a sigh at the realisation of exams the following week. He swore to himself that he’d study - “but only after I figure out what this lump is. Who needs Spanish anyway?” He took out the rock, still emitting its vivid green hue, bright enough to cast its own shadow. Placing it on his desk, he took a step back and just stared, and stared, for what felt to him ten minutes, but what would realistically be about two. At a loss, he sent a photo of the peculiar rock to Toby, before catching sight of him across the street.

He opens the window, and shouts onto the quiet suburban street below: “Tobes, check this out!” waving him over. Moments later they were mirror images of each other, gawking at this rock as it laid idly on the wooden desk. Toby eventually breaks the silence,

“It’s a rock, Jimbo.”

“Is that an opinion, or an expert opinion?”

“That’s my opinion. My expert opinion would be ‘it’s a glowing rock’”

Jim responded with nothing but a stern, piercing glare.

“Look, I don’t know what it is, okay? But green and glowing… I don’t like it. Would Blinky know what this is?”

“I suppose, but he’s got enough on his plate at the moment at the moment, seeing as you practically destroyed his collection of books. But it doesn’t matter, it looks neat enough, I’m keeping it.”

“That was the word juice! And you’re in on that too, you know, giving it to me and all.”

“Yeah I guess,” he says as he moves the rock from the table to the shelf on the wall behind him, oblivious to the fact that the glowing was enough to leave a jet black scorch mark on the table. “You ready for the prueba de la fatalidad?”

“No. I don’t suppose you have any more of that-”

“You’ve ruined one library, you’re not going to ruin the school’s too! Just read a damn book like a normal person would.” He chuckles to himself as Toby rolls his eyes to the back of his head as he leaves,

“You’re a butt, Jim!” Toby shouts from the street.

“Love you too, Tobes-” he heads downstairs to take a glass of water, picking up a ragged old Spanish textbook on his way back. Chucking the textbook onto the table, he returns and opens the book to where he’d left a sheet of paper as a makeshift bookmark, on the section to do with past participles.

“Oh boy, What a great way to spend a weekend! Neck craned over a book, learning a language I’ll never speak,” He utters enthusiastically through gritted teeth as he pushes himself back on his chair to stretch out, resulting in him spinning around a few times. “Okay then, past participles.” Neck craned over the textbook, he studies the wrote and the writ, occasionally stopping to make notes and take a sip of water, sometimes contacting Toby on the backhandedly named ‘puberty-patrol phone’, to which he received nothing but radio silence.

An hour or so later, as warm spring sunlight was beginning to curtail, he’d ran out of water, only this was much later than when he ran out of will to continue revising cooped up inside. Taking the glass from beside the book, he begins to head for the kitchen for a refill. Still in Spanish revision mode, he mutters to himself as he notices a peculiar, prickling sensation from within his arm.

“Que?”

He appeared to be walking with a stoop and a right handed lean, enough to throw him off balance slightly. The more he thought about it, the more he began to notice it. He pivots around awkwardly to leave his room with new intentions. Water could wait, this, whatever this was, seemed more urgent.

Panic abruptly set in, this was no pins-and-needles situation, it was definitely something more unusual, and something this unusual could most certainly not be human. Trollmarket would - hopefully - hold the answer to Jim’s predicament.

Grabbing his bag from the bannister, he races unsteadily down the stairs and immediately into the garage, crashing into the empty paint tins and other detritus which lined the far wall. Leaping onto his Vespa, he kickstated the motor and began to set off, only after he’d realised that he’s neglected to open the door. Letting the moped crash down with a metallic din on the floor, he reached down and opened the door with his left hand with urgency, not wanting to risk excessive use of his right. With a now clear path, he mounted the moped and restarted his journey, correcting his balance constantly as he attempted to adjust. Being a Saturday, the streets were quiet, which fortunately meant no obstacles for Jim to have to avoid. The bridge was now within touching distance, rounding the sharp corner into the drain, albeit with a much wider turning circle, he was propelled down the concrete slope to the wall, riskily riding sidesaddle to speed the dismount process. With no regard for the moped, he let it continue at speed, crashing into the wall with a tinny peel which echoes along the drain.

The speed was too hard to handle for Jim as he trips over his own feet, sending him to the same fate at the Vespa; a concrete faceplant, Dull pain sets in as he lay dazed and stinging on the floor. The speed at which he’d impacted the wall has split his forehead slightly, sending a small trickle of blood running down the side of his head, which he briskly wiped away, but what he felt came as a shock to him, enough to snap him out of his dazed state.

“What in the-” The texture of his hand felt like it had turned pebbly, almost chiseled. His bag still over his shoulders, Jim grabbed the crystalline horngozzle and picked himself up off the floor. Still slightly pained, he began to roughly trace out the semicircle to open the portal, however, his usually precisely scribed portal had, understandably, become a jagged mess of an arc, something which closely resembled the work of a five year-old with a worn out paintbrush. Not that that mattered, it would still open. Placing his hand on the space in between, the concrete shattered, revealing the dark spiral down into the caves.

Frantically dashing down the crystal stairs and onto the cobbles of Trollmarket, he clumsily searched for a familiar face among the crowds which towered over him like living monoliths. Eventually he blindly, and literally, ran into Vendel, who responded with disgust.

“Goodness! James Lake, do you not have eyes?”

“Vendel! There’s something majorly wrong happening about now, look.” He reveals his hand to Vendel, who retorted swiftly to keep everything surreptitious.

“Come with me.”