《Flyleaf》Trollhunters/Merlin

《 Chapter Six 》

"All it takes is a slight push."

Esmerion curses beneath his ragged breath, his head growing heavy as he stumbles after Jim. He should not be struggling to keep pace with the Trollhunter, he should be miles ahead by now.

Oh, and of course. Jim is Destined to always fall where he shouldn't. Like right now, as he slips on a rock and takes a tumble off the cliff's ledge.

A forgotten curse rolls off the youth's tongue, and he leaps off the platform to join the Trollhunter, digging his fingers into cracks in the stone to slow his descent. He cares little for the shimmering scarlet blood flowing down his arms. 

Before his feet hit the ground, he kicks off the pillar of stone and lands awkwardly beside the Lake boy. He scowls, wrinkling his nose at the Trollhunter as he weakly gets to his feet, groaning in pain.

Jim leans on him for support, and it takes all of his will not to rip his arm from the boy's grip. But he's more occupied by the sight in front of them.

Hundreds of baskets hang from chains, gently rocking as Goblins tend to what lays inside each one, their cooing voices haunting the chilling silence. It's not difficult to recognise what they're looking at. Delighted and sleepy giggles bounce off the cavern walls, ringing in the youth's ears as he observes from afar.

"Oh. Wow. The nursery."

Esmerion shoots the boy a scolding look, on that goes unseen.

"That's a lot of babies," he continues, missing the growl of annoyance from his partner.

Jim stumbles as the youth suddenly springs away from him, leaping in full faith onto the nearest hanging crib. He watches in surprise and a little awe as Esmerion pauses to softly coo at the baby inside, making sure that they don't burst into tears. There's a gentle glow to his eyes, warm with adoration for the child. And then it's gone as he turns away and leaps to the next crib.

"Trollhunter," he calls quietly, his voice low. "Get movin'!"

He turns his head as Jim scrambles to follow suit, grumbling sourly. They shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't be trying to get one child out without rescuing all of the others. Risking not only their lives, but their souls as well for a single child? Not worth it if they cannot bring the others.

"Eloise Stemhower," he hears Jim mutter. "Born eighteen ninety-four. Jeez, what are they feeding you guys?"

"Dark curses," Esmerion answers his question, face dark. "I cannot recognise the specifics, but it is far too strong for a mere child."

Another thought crosses his mind but he does not vocalize it. Where in hell's seven circles are they getting the milk?

His thoughts are interrupted by a small cry and he snaps his attention over to the Trollhunter, panicking in silence as he watches him fumble to place the bottle back in the child's mouth. A happy gurgle leaves the baby when he succeeds and they both let out a breath of relief.

"It's okay..." He searches for the name plaque. "Waltolomew Strickler. You're the real Walter Strickler? You're so small!"

"Trollhunter," the youth calls, hanging precariously from the bottom of a crib. "Now is not the time."