Beginning Anew

You can never be to prepaired

Barbara couldn't help but steal glances at her husband as he walked through the house holding The Book of Ga-Huel, filled with images and words she couldn't understand, or ever hope to read. He muttered in trollish and hissed when an incantation didn't work as it was intended, stopping to collect more items to aid him in his task.

Walter explained his frustration to her as well as he could. As a human, he didn't have any magic to draw on anymore, so he had to take it from other sources to complete the protective spells.

Curious, Barbara asked about Merlin and Morgana – both humans, possessing magic. Walter sounded very tired as he explained that humans birthed with magical talent were rare and growing sparser with the passing years.

In addition to the spells, Walter strategically placed items around the house such as ultraviolet flashlights. Barbara understood those. She couldn't help but be fascinated by the ingenuity of the little lights with their purple beams. They wouldn't kill a troll instantly, but they were painful enough to repel them.

Barbara didn't think anything of Walter's measures for the most part. Then she found the knife, much more threatening than the ones in her kitchen knife-block. It was tucked behind the cereal in the cupboard, unseen, but easily retrievable.

"Really, Walt?" Barbara asked, dangling the blade in front of Walter with two fingers.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes. I've always believed in the idea of 'better safe than sorry.'"

"We're not living in a war zone anymore," Barbara asserted. "And there's a baby in the house."

"Precisely why I put the knife in a place he couldn't possibly get to by himself," Walter replied, unphased. He took the blade. "I just want you and Emil to be safe."

Barbara sighed. "You're acting like we're under constant threat. We've been home for a week. Nothing's happened."

"Barbara..." Walter stepped closer to her. "You're the mother of the Trollhunter who slew Gunmar, whose servant I once was. Arcadia was at war only a year ago, even if most of the humans living here don't know that. And, as you said, we have a baby in the house." He gently touched her cheek.

"Fine," Barbara muttered. "But are there any more knives I should know about?"

"Erhh..." Walter looked away.

"Okay." Barbara put her hands on her hips. "How many, and where did you hide them?"

"Right, ahem." Walter cleared his throat and proceeded to take his wife on a tour of the house.

Every room contained at least one hidden blade. Some didn't even look like traditional knives, just tiny blades disguised as pens, or similar small instruments. Knives like this required specific knowledge to reveal the blade, a good thing since half of them were poisonous.

"Is it just me, or were you not nearly this paranoid during the trip?" Barbara asked as she plopped down on the couch, exhausted.

"Back then I had the strength to protect you," Walter replied, still standing in front of the couch, his shadow falling over her. "And I think you're forgetting, I always carried weapons."

"Right." Barbara sighed. "Do you really think all this is necessary?"

"Hopefully not," Walter replied. "But I would rather be overprepared than face an attack with nothing to protect you."

Barbara leaned back into the couch. "Fine... Just tell me what you're doing, okay?" She held up a hand. "And from now on, you're going to tell me whenever you hide a new weapon in this house. Understood?"