"When the world bites us, we must bite back twice as hard. If it never yields, neither shall we. That is how we prevail in these times."
Trolls scream in terror, fleeing the streets in panic. They rampage through Trollmarket with thoughts of massacre staining their minds.
Esmerion's eyes flare dangerously with embers, glowing in the dark sockets of his helmet. He moves swiftly on instinct, reaching for the weapon on his back without a thought of hindrance. It does not catch on the sheath and slides out with ease, finding its home in the youth's calloused hands as it gleams in the light of nearby crystals.
He snarls lowly in a near silent warning to the one who has yet to unveil his face. The knowledge of his opponent—the soulless slave—is what curdles his blood. It is his awareness of Mordred's twisting words and ways that curls his lip, that sends a rippling chill along his spine.
The Trollhunter speeds past with Toby and Claire at his heels, Blinkous and a Krubera Troll by the name Aaarrrgghh!!! following close behind. There's no doubt that they have chosen to investigate this pressing matter. But Esmerion has a crawling suspicion scuttling down his back.
It's when Draal passes through the main square that he does anything. To his credit, the young Troll doesn't even flinch when the tip of a blade invades his personal bubble.
"Watch yerself out there, clach-theine."
The warrior moves the blade aside with his metal hand, leaning down to meet the eyes of his partner. "I will return from this, cerddwr coetir. Vow you will do the same."
Esmerion withdraws his sword and raises a hand to his helmet, unclipping the lower front from the main piece. He wears a sobering expression and his eyes lull into a glittering warmth, free of the feral hatred that has fuelled them. "Mo ghaol, I shall not fall beyond yer reach. I will not go where ye cannot follow."
He smiles softly and lifts a hand to Draal's cheek, drawing his thumb beneath his partner's eye. As the Troll leans into his gentle touch, he bumps his forehead with the male's.
"I shall see ye at the end of this," he promises, drawing away from his old partner. "Keep Jim safe."
Draal nods shortly, a nearly unnoticeable quirk on his lips as he follows after the group of hasty Trollhunters.
The youth's smile fades, replaced with a scowl of uncertainty that darkens the air around him. He should not have made that promise, he thinks has he snaps the front of the helmet back in place. But it satisfied his partner, and that's enough for him.
Esmerion wields his weapon once again with a growl, watching over the Trolls with a wary eye. He has yet to recognise the foreboding pit in his stomach, though he tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword.
The cavern continues to tremble and quake, pebbles jumping like beans around the youth's feet. Almost as though the ground is screaming in torture, cracks rip open in the rock, engulfing market carts and small clusters of crystals.
Up from these cracks arises creatures of false life, mimicking the fragility with rough movements of their limbs and growling creaks of broken crystal. They snarl at those around them and waste no time in swinging their rocky arms at the defenseless population. Certainly not friendlies.
YOU ARE READING
《Dogears》Trollhunters/Merlin
ספרות חובבים"All that glitters is not gold, but all that is pure most certainly is." The Dark Ages are over. Camelot has been lost. Killahead is scattered. Those that remember recall bright days filled with the laughter of young boys, one with a crown on his he...
