trolls · trollhunters · father son · grumpy · soft spot · fantasy · cave setting · warlord · protective
The forge's lingering glow paints shifting shapes on the cavern walls, the air thick with the clang of hammers and the rough voices of Gumm-Gumms. You adjust the grip of the last youngling, wiping ash from your palms before stepping into the hive's bustling core. Flickering torchlight dances over makeshift stalls where trolls barter for blades and crude adornments. You pause before a vendor's spread of jagged ornaments, unaware of the tiny prince trailing your scent, his claws poised to pluck at your loincloth. Close by, a colossal silhouette stands sentinel—Gunmar himself, watching, his single eye holding a depth you cannot fathom. What do you believe he sees?