Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A spark of light appears in the distance. It quickly disappears as the wind breezes at the environment.

Hiding behind a bush, someone tries to light a spark once again, trying to achieve their goals as they stare at a herd in the distance.

A troll gathering, of about eight in total, gathering around a bonfire as they held their hands. While the creatures started growling out words, the spark finally stayed alive.

Sneaking out of the bush carefully, the lighter would keep the fire alive as they crouch their way towards the trolls. Hiding behind a tree, they would see something unprecedented.

A beam of red light, akin to that of a stoplight, emerges out of the large bonfire, roaring a massive flame as the trolls began to chant louder and louder.

Seeing it as their chance, the person decides to lower their lighter down to their chest level, putting it closer to a fuse as they watch the flames with delight.

With the fuse now lit and with a limited amount of time for it to reach the centre, the perpetrator quickly ran out of the bush as they raised their arm in the air.

"Catch this, rocknuts!" They cried out an insult, swiftly throwing the red coated dynamite towards the herd as the fuse nears its contents.

As soon as the dynamite made contact to their stone, it then carried out a damaging blast to their body, chipping away a large portion of their face and causing them to fall back to the fire.

Collapsing into the flames, the beam of light wavered and the gifts that they laid out ruined by the attack. Seeing this as a provocation, the herd looks back at them with contempt.

Noticing their angered faces, the perpetrator quickly retreats towards the wall, causing the troll herd to begin chasing after the person that attacked them.

In order to lose them, the attacker decides to pull out a bell — an outdated troll repellant — and began shaking it as loudly as they can. The loud ringing not only caused distress to the trolls, it also disturbed much of the surrounding wilderness that it became a noisy hellhole.

With their tracks secured by the bell, the attacker continues to sprint their way out. But then, they encountered a double-headed troll that stands between them and the gates.

Due to the crowded nature of the wilderness, this forced them to resort to something deadly. Pulling out a pickaxe from their backpack in preparation for the attack beforehand, they would try to fight their way out.

Firstly, they would throw their bell into the ground, causing such a loud eruption of noise to affect the troll ahead of them, causing them to be in distress.

Then that troll began to act aggressively, punching down trees and slamming their hardy fists into the leaves in search of whomever rung that bell.

Using their blind rage to their potential, the attacker would hide within the trees, avoiding the troll as they rounded their path and going towards the way that they destroyed.

As soon as they hopped over the first log, their grey Wellington boots had accidentally stepped on a lonely twig on the path. This caused the troll to turn its back and saw the human that caused this mess.

Immediately giving chase, the human started running away towards the wall as they dodged tree after tree to make an attemot of losing their scent to the troll while hearing their powerful roars as they ran.

Reaching one of the main roads toward the gates, the human would then start to stand their ground as they held their pickaxe out like a sword towards the wilderness.

Out the troll came and continued their blind chase to the human. Using to their advantage, they would decide to fling their pickaxe at the troll and then threw their backpack to the ground as they hear the screams of their foe.

Hurriedly trying to gather what else they could muster, the roars only got louder due to the attack, forcing them to resort to one last chance.

As an act of pure desperation, they grabbed an empty water bottle and then threw it at the bell towers above while the attacker would try to keep this troll running by doing a ring-around-the-rosie, essentially keeping the creature spinning.

"Oy, what's with the lit-" a Safety Patrol officer called out before seeing the situation down below, "We got another angry critter! Prep da boulders!"

The bellringers — an outdated name for an outdated job — hurriedly tried to help the feller down below as they began lifting heavy boulders off to the edge.

Meanwhile, the attacker decides to throw their entire bag at the troll, completely covering the head of one while simultaneously confusing the other.

"Oy rocks-for-brains!" An officer taunted, "Take this!"

They swung the boulder off to the side, quickly grabbing on to the wall to prevent themselves from being dragged to the edge. As the troll turned to see what called them, the boulder reached their faces.

It shattered upon impact but it caused enough damage for the troll that cracks began to form on their necks and body while a pitiful scream wailed into the night.

With the troll neutralized, the attacker quickly ran to the gates, pushing it and realizing that it wasn't open. Fearing that the troll might take this chance to pin them, they kept pushing.

As they started to push with their entire body, the perpetrator notices that the troll had now endured the damage and has now started to sprint towards the gate.

With the sheer ferocity with every step, the human began banging on the wooden gates with their feet and hands, crying out "Let me in!" with every attempt.

Then, the gate quickly opened, "Get in, quick!" an officer shouted before dragging their arm inside. Quickly shutting the gate with a metal rod, it steadily held firm as the troll barges into the wood.

Having not caught the attacker and having hurt themselves in the process, this causes the troll to feel a withdrawal of their adrenaline as they sluggishly retreated to the wilderness.

"Hey, chucknuts!" A bellringer from above provoked, dropping the boulder on their hands as they looked at it with awe.

As the troll looked uo once more, the boulder swiftly fell on to their necks, their deep cracks now intensified into cuts that essentially decapitated their heads.

The echoes of the landing still echoing from the outside, the attacker chose to keep themselves silent as they were walking away from the walls.

"Wait," the officer said, "What were you doing outside the walls anyway at this hour?"

They looked back at him silently, staring back with their eyes peering out of the hood before continuing to walk away.

"Hey, did you hear me? What were you doing?" They briskly walked towards them, holding on to their shoulder before they walked away.

"Now, show yourself," he demanded with a soft but strict voice. Turning around, they unfurled the hood and revealed their face to the officer.

"Oscar Kennedy, what the fuck are you doing out there!?" he shouted at him in an interrogatory desk.

"Don't you realize how many laws you'd break with your stupidity? I had your bail your ass out during that–"

"No need to remind me of that," Oscar interrupts, "I already know how that went down."

"So why!? You've been under our protection twice, this department can't afford to put it thrice just for you."

He sighed, crossing their arms in response, "Well...how do I explain this to you? I might know how but you might not–"

"Just get to the goddamn point."

"Alright, jeez. I'm...I think this shouldn't be revealed to you yet."

The officer moves their chair closer to the desk, "What do you mean by that?"

"I am about to expose something that you might not be ready to hear. If you let it out, the city will fall."

Chapter Text

The sun rises over the city once more as the trolls began to flock to the caves to rest once more. A toaster slowly heats two pieces of bread as the sounds of clinking porcelain ring around in the kitchen.

On the dinner table, Hilda absent-mindedly spins a fork around the empty plate, feeling a little sleepy even with the sun up. "Hilda," Johanna says, "Hilda, wake up."

Trying to respond to her, she rubs her eyes as Hilda kept blinking to try and keep her awake. "Y-yes, Mum?"

"Please stay awake," she requests to Hilda. Then, the toaster rings a loud ding! shifting the toast up, ready to be served.

Johanna sighs at Hilda before standing up to serve Hilda breakfast. As Hilda looked at her mother, she feels as if a distance has formed between them, and she couldn't piece together why it existed. Then, she feels a hand tug on her jeans.

Looking down, she sees the same short furball of a nisse pulling the fabric of her jean. "Tontu?"

"Hilda, you look tired," he says out of concern, "What's wrong?"

Groaning out of a nagging feeling, she looks away from him as Hilda notices the toast and eggs placed on her plate. Picking up the toast with her hand, she glances her eyes at her mother with a curious yet pitied look.

She sees her mother reading a newspaper, blocking the view of her face. On the side that is visible to Hilda, its headline reads:

BOMBER STRIKES AGAIN! TROLL FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE CITY GATE!

"Ehh," she quietly states her disgust, Hilda is not very fond of the news lately, especially with these attacks. After reading the headline from afar, Hilda then takes a bite out of the toast, wondering how could this day go.

"An F!?" Hilda shouts from her desk, "How!? I-I just reviewed this last week!"

"Yet," Miss Halgrimm sighs deeply, "You failed somehow." A thin, stapled piece of paper slides across her desk.

Within the light, the scribbled circle of red ink over her score of 25/60 alongside the hastily written F in red whiteboard marker near her name dawns over Hilda.

"I'm truly sorry to say," Miss Halgrimm exhales out of pity, "But I really have to send you to remediation classes as a result."

"But—"

"Hilda," she softly speaks, "I'm afraid there's no other way around it."

Feeling defeated but knowing she can't throw fits any longer, Hilda looks down at herself as her lips slowly curve into a sad face, holding her shaking hands together as she tries not to shed a tear.

Noticing her sad face, Halgrimm could not help but feel a little sympathetic for her, glancing her eyes back down to her test to discern multiple correction taped areas around her answer sheet.

She sighs out of disbelief, "I believe I can't help you," Miss Halgrimm says, "But...I'll give you contacts to someone who might."

"Wait-" Hilda faces her attention to her, "There is?"

As she looks at Miss Halgrimm attentively, Hilda sees her scribbling something down in a yellow sticky note. In a short span of time, she then peels it off of the notepad and places it on her test paper.

"Now, you may go."

Leaving the school this afternoon along with everyone else, Hilda looks at the sticky note that she peeled out of her test paper.

It still reeks of wet black permanent marker on it written in contrast with the yellow background. Jotted down in the note, Hilda quietly reads what is written down:

01632 960854

Teresa D. Bukovina & Priscilla E. Evans

Take your time :)

Lightly chuckling at the little smiley at the end, she appreciates how much Miss Halgrimm still cares for her even after all these years.

Taking her advice in mind, Hilda decides to pocket the note at her skirt pocket. But then as soon as she reaches for her pocket, she feels a hand—

Quickly turning around, Hilda takes a few steps back as she is about to confront whoever might be behind her. "Hey! What are you–"

"Aww dude, you didn't reach it fast enough!" A loud faraway voice shouts at the distance followed by an obnoxious whistle.

"Shit!"

Unamused that she became a "game" to whoever is doing this, Hilda didn't have the willpower to fully confront those assholes. Her grades are more worth it than those hooligans.

Walking down the sidewalk, she keeps reading the note in her hand as Hilda ponders about what possible consequences she might receive back at home.

Would I be grounded?  Am I gonna have to be kicked out?  Is Mum gonna take something away from me?  Is she gonna be mad about the score?

These thoughts rush into her head like a speeding train that broke its brakes. She couldn't calm herself down, her breathing felt short and lapsing, heartbeat getting a little too fast for her own good.

Trying to keep her attention to the note and doting her questions and what-ifs, Hilda could feel the pressure of the situation around her.

Until–

A hand pulled her back from the street, dragging her into the sidewalk as her head finally turns away from the note.

Ahead of her, an avenue of cars, trucks and vans dash past each other seemingly on a daily basis. Hilda felt lucky for having evaded death this early.

"Hilda, you should definitely watch where you're going!"

That familiar voice, the deep voice of a Caucasian, light brown haired, beady eyed friend calls out from behind.

"David!" she greets, although panting, "Thank the heavens you saved me there."

"Just keeping you safe, that's all," he responds to her gratitude, quickly moving his eyes and turns his head away.

"Thanks," she concludes, "Oh, by the way, do you know where I could find a phone booth around here?"

"You lost WHAT in the test!?"

"Yeah, I know," she admits, "It's a failure in every regard, I don't know if my Mum would allow this," Hilda harshly deprecated herself, handing the paper over to him.

As he reads the paper, David tries to bottle up feelings of disappointment and frustration but as a result, he unintentionally tightened his grip on the test paper, ruining it.

Then, an idea clicked. It finally popping into his head helped him calm down which lightened his grip over her paper. David turns to her, "Hilda."

"Yes?" she asks.

"Maybe..." he taps his finger to his chin, "I could tutor you to get better."

This got Hilda thinking, turning to the corner in order to give her mind space to ponder about the issue. She then turns to him with a suspicious face.

"And why are you doing?" Hilda questions, putting emphasis on why, "If I know any better, this might be one of those...let's say schemes."

David scoffs in protest, "You really think I'm one of them?" he queries, "C'mon, Hilda. You know me, it only takes one review and that's it."

"No strings attached?"

"None at all." He winked backs at her.

Walking up the stairs, both Hilda and David would begin to converse as each foot takes a step upwards.

"How did you even get a score that abysmal anyway?" David asks, "You don't seem like the person to fail."

"Well," she mutters a little quietly, "The test...I don't think I could handle it, I find the questions very hard to get, each answer feels like a minefield and...overall, I just couldn't come up with the solution."

That reasoning touched deep into his heart, David never expected this to come out of Hilda, his role model when it comes to overcoming your fears. Hearing her just bawl out her frustrations and shortcomings, even for just one occasion, that...it feels wrong.

As the sounds of a doorknob opening waiver in the air, David decides to give his opinion about what she said.

"Well, Hilda," he begins, "I didn't expect to hear that from you but...well, you see, I think you're a wonderful friend and I think I could try to give my best to help you in any problem yoy have and–

"I'll just come out of the gate, I like yo–" Looking up at the stairs, he could notice that Hilda is just...standing still, shaking like a shudden child.

Taking a step further, "Are you okay?" David tries to see what's wrong. As he went up, he could discern the test paper next to her famously large boots.

"Hilda," he takes another step, "Hilda, what's going on–"

His eyes felt a shock of surprise and startle, cutting his words off as David shares the same sight as Hilda did.

The entire room had been extremely desecrated to hell and back; Broken window shards across the room, blackened dust and soot littered across the beige wooden floor, splatters of blood scattered across the living room and kitchen area.

Feeling too shocked to even enable a reaction out of herself, Hilda decides to take a step back towards the staircase, feeling the electrifying pressure of the entire situation as too much.

As she's about to turn around, she nearly stumbled herself into David, putting friction into her boot before she collides with him at full speed.

"....–" The words aren't there, Hilda couldn't gather her mind to process this. It's too much.

Seeing her wartorn-like face in his eyes, he couldn't stop feeling pity for her as he decides to take a few steps back. Keeping his concerned face, his mind couldn't come around to even an idea for what happened inside.

Was it a break-in? Was it a hate crime? Is this an attempted murder!? What even happened in there!?! WHAT!?!?!

The questions swirling around his head, David tries to keep it in while he tries to remain calm in the face of the situation.

"Who would do such a thing?"

The only question Hilda could come up for the occasion. She grapples the test paper over her face, seeing the crumpled, roughened nature of the material in her grasps.

Her eyes, fixated towards the now-dried red markings of an F drawn over her pathetic score. The echoes of it still ring deeper and deeper than ever, cracking into Hilda's mind even more.

I shouldn't have failed, her mind deprecates, I shouldn't have failed...Mum...

Tossing the paper aside near the bushes outside of her bedroom window, Hilda decides to rest herself against the armrest of the wooden bench.

As David went out to fetch it, Hilda could feel her eyes succumbing to the pressure and having remembered the last time she might'e saw her Mum alive...

She bursted into tears, gritting her teeth to herself, not wanting to cause a scene between herself and David. Feeling the flow of her sobbing run down from her eyes to the ground, she could feel the stinging pain of what was lost.

Having the unfortunate irony of sitting down on the same bench that Ostenfeld once transported himself back in time, Hilda decides to take out something from her pocket.

That unwavered yellow little sticky note from earlier, she holds it gently by the finger as she reads the little details of the note.

"Hilda..." David asks hesitantly, "Wh–what are you looking at?"

She turns her attention to David, showing him the true face of a broken young woman to his eyes. After letting some tears out of her eyes, she then lets the words go from her lips.

"It's just a note Miss Halgrimm gave me," she melancholicly says to him, passing the note over to David as she rests her back against the backrest.

Looking up from the little garden to her bedroom window — cracked and broken in just like the rest — Hilda couldn't help but wonder how did it all go down.

Did they go from all directions? Did they just snuck in through my room? Were they cunning enough to sneak in from the front door? What happened to Twig!? Alfur!? MUM!?

"Wait..." he says curiously, "Priscilla E. Evans...I think I know this person."

"You...do?"

"Yeah! It's during that–" Suddenly, David remembers the last time he met her. Silencing himself to avoid reviving any sort of trauma, he backpedals his discussion.

"–If there's anyone out there that might be able to solve this, then this is it."

"I don't know, Davie," Hilda turns away, "I think I've bothered the Safety Patrol more times than I can count."

"Right," he sighs, knowing the incidents she has gone through, "But please, Hilda. This is serious, like actually serious, we have to consult them about this."

"Don't you get it?" she stomps her foot, "They've had enough of me, what's the point?"

"What's the point!? What about your mother?"

That question now entered into her lingering questions, floating on and about with the other questions regarding today. The weight of it, the possibility that her mother might actually be in danger...

Hilda turns to David, "Alright..." she looks into his eyes, "What's the plan?"