sarcasm laced heavy through his voice as he said, “ here is underneath the ever wonderful california town of arcadia oaks, possibly the most boring place in america and, i’m happy to inform you, the greatest hub of troll activity in the americas. its a safe haven. which is why folks are a little nervous about you and your dragon slaying. and the fact is, your presence is as new and unnerving to them – to me – as theirs is to you. ” he didn’t say : didn’t the vikings live centuries ago ? that would be too much, he decided, to take in, on top of the overwhelming muchness of trollmarket, its bright lights glistening off every crystal edge, voices and motion like stone scraping on stone.
“ okay, dagur. now that i have your word about the dragon, welcome to the heartstone of trollmarket. ” he reached to take the stranger by the hand, wariness abating into a desire to hold onto the visitor, to keep a close eye on him. by comparison, jim was a more a boy-shaped emptiness in the world than , but he held himself with a cold authority, an unflinching protector. “ here you’ll meet the head honcho. just to warn you, he’s a little off-putting. ”
light the color of long sunsets swept around them, draping them with softer edges than their warrior hearts allow. jim considered vendel inside, the scrape of his voice, the disapproval falling over jim – as trollhunter, every intruder, every thread to order, became his responsibility – and made a decision to spin out the time. he peered through the doorway of the heartstone and ducked back. “ you know, i’m working a theory, ” jim said, cautiously. “ before we go in and face vendel. here, we have stories about trolls living under bridges, guarding, y’know, demanding a toll for passing. all the doors between this underground world – what you call jotenheim but which definitely isn’t referred to by the locales – and the surface world are bridges. i don’t know if that’s how you got here, but–. ”
A thick red brow perked at the trollhunter. He's never heard of California, or America. “You'd have to forgive me if I'm not familiar with, well, what you described. All I know is islands and the archipelago, nothing like... California or this 'America'.” Dagur replied. In his honesty, there's going to be a lot he has to learn, “But I can understand the caution.” After all, Hiccup wasn't all that happy about the berserker hunting dragons. He hunted them for glory, but to test himself. During the time, he wanted to slay a night fury. Now he just wanted to slay it and it's master even more.
“But this place does remind me of Jotenheim. The stories, anyway.” Even if it may not actually be the fabled world of the Jotnar, he can admit to the striking similarities. Gold, brightness, even among the dark. As though their world had no natural light from the sun, some parts in ruins due to the wars between Jotenheim and Asgard. He seen no destruction, aside from the one he and the dragon had inadvertently caused. Just houses of stone, marketplaces, glowing gems glittering ceilings and surfaces. The dragon looked hungry for the stones, as Dagur noticed. Gronckles had a rock-based diet, even while they can occasionally eat meat.
If he is not to slay the beast, he may just use it for his benefit. He could make gronckle iron, or figure out how to train it like Hiccup. Perhaps it would grant him the key to build his own army of dragons to stomp on that dainty little pegleg once and for all. Not that he'll ever mention this allowed, or suspect he'll ever be able to return home. Dagur had to accept the possibility that he may never go back, despite that his tribe would need him.
Forest green hues shifted as he felt the iron clad boy take his hand, begrudgingly allowing this for it was best for them not to get separated. “If he's any worse than Stoick, I'll tell you.” Dagur spoke. Jim doesn't know who Stoick is, but it didn't stop the berserker from making that remark. His eyes glistened as he saw the interior of the heartstone, orange like the fire and the sun, yet not intensely bright to hurt those orbs. His attention twitched back over to Jim as the other boy spoke of a theory.
“Bridges? There are bridges between the realms. I didn't really see a bridge when we were running. Dragon Island isn't exactly people inhabited. Maybe a path opened up to us and it led us here? That's about as much as I can think of.”
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