Jerry: LOZ WHAT THE NETHER HAVE YOU DONE.

Me: ... I may have gotten bored. Ah ha, ah hahahaha. Egnazol is under editing, so I got distracted.

Jerry: Excuses.

Me: I'M SORRY IT WAS THE PLOT BUNNIES NOT ME.

Jerry: pffft. Sure.

Me: anyway, this can become a multi-chapter fic, if anyone likes it. If not, imagine that they go and start the videos after this. Meh. REVEIW SO I KNOW IF YOUS LIKES IT.

Jerry: CREEPER!


Edit: Right, because 'The voices in my head' was only a temporary name, This fic shall now be named...

An Idiot's guide to Saving the world!

Haha. Anyway, read on, and the next chapter shalt arrive soon. And before you ask, all the Norse runes in here translate directly to english, and are based off the Dwarven script used by the Dwarves of Erebor in the Hobbit. I considered using the tradtional norse alphabet, but this was more fun. Yeah, I'm obsessed with runes.


ᚫᚾ᛫ᛁᛞᛁᚩᛏᛋ᛫ᚷᚢᛁᛞᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛋᚫᚢᛁᛝ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚹᚩᚱᛚᛞ

(An Idiot's guide to Saving the World.)

ᚲᚻᚫᛈᛏᚫᚱ᛫ᚩᚾᛖ

How not to start your day.

Simon Honeydew was a Dwarf. Mostly. In actual fact, he was half Dwarf and half Minecraftian, making him quite a bit taller than the average Dwarf, but still shorter than your average Minecraftian. Other than that, his personality was quite Dwarfish, being quite fond of spending lots of time at the local brewery, hoarding anything that sparkled, and digging holes wherever he could. Admittedly he wasn't exactly good at any of these things, as he was often thrown out of bars for drinking too much (even for Dwarven standards), and was awfully clumsy at the best of times. The Dwarven passion for mining had not combined well with his longer-than-average arms.

You can imagine how he had fared when trying to maintain a job in the mines below Khaz Modan. He'd been kicked out and banned from the mines quite quickly, actually, after an incident that involved an iron pick, a particularly nasty Dwarf who picked on Honeydew for his parentage, and some smuggled-in booze.

But his job troubles hadn't stopped there. His clumsiness had caused further problems when trying to get a job as the furnaces. There, he'd managed to ruin about five days' worth of work in one minute and as a result got kicked out on his ass yet again.

Simon had begun to wonder if there was actually anything he could do without failing. Sure, he was a great guy to be around, always joking and laughing, but that really amounted to nothing when you didn't have any money to buy beer with.

In a last-ditch attempt to get a job, he resorted to applying for an apprenticeship at the crafting workshops. Normally, the crafting gene was incompatible with Dwarves, so the workshops where inhabited by Minecraftians; the only way that a Dwarf could possibly craft by him or herself was either through a bug (which often led to said Dwarf's untimely fall through the world and into the void), or by having a Minecraftian parent who carried the genes themself. The chances of the second option happening where tiny, but apparently not tiny enough, because, as it turned out, Simon had inherited the genes from his parent.

So it was arranged that at dawn, two weeks after the disaster at the furnaces, Simon Honeydew would come up to the crafting workshop and show the crafters what he could do. This is just about when our story begins.

~᛬ᚫᚾ᛫ᛁᛞᛁᚩᛏᛋ᛫ᚷᚢᛁᛞᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛋᚫᚢᛁᛝ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚹᚩᚱᛚᛞ᛬~

Honeydew stretched, greeting the dawn with a loud yawn. Of course, he couldn't see the sunrise, Khaz Modan being completely underground, and the only way he knew it was the crack of dawn was because of the gold clock on the wall. He rubbed his eyes and got slowly out of bed. He felt like he could just fall back into bed and sleep for the next week, but he knew he had to get up if he wanted the job.

Some people just don't appreciate a good, long sleep in, a voice said grumpily in his head, as he strapped on his belts and other pieces of armour he wore normally. Honeydew fervently agreed with the voice as he stifled another yawn.

He made his way out of his room, passing a few other Dwarves who glanced curiously at him as he passed, but otherwise ignored him. Dwarves tended to sleep in, unless they were required to do otherwise. Some called Dwarves the race that enjoyed itself just a bit too much- and unfortunately that was more than true.

Simon expertly navigated the winding passages, slowly but surely making his way up. The workshops were at the uppermost level of Khaz Modan, mostly because the Minecraftians that worked there sometimes got depressed (and occasionally went insane) if they stayed underground too long. They said that they heard strange noises when dark caves where nearby, but the Dwarves never heard anything. Simon, personally, was less than happy about the long climb he was going to have to take to get there.

The actual climb took no more than five minutes, but Simon was panting by the time he got there. Despite looking a lot less stout than the usual Dwarf, he was really rather unfit. Certainly not any danger over a short distance let alone a long one. As he entered the workshops themselves, a tall Minecraftian turned to look at him curiously.

"Simon Honeydew?" he asked, staring at him. Simon wondered that exactly he was staring at- was it his bright ginger hair, or the patches of sweat staining his clothes, or his height? Oh, it had better not be his height.

"Yeah," Simon declared, daring the Minecraftian to comment on his stature, "Honeydew's the name, TNT's the game."

The Minecraftian raised an eyebrow sceptically (or was that scornfully? Or even disgustedly?) and turned to call for someone called 'Roger'.

Why that little- how dare he! Simon was known all over as a TNT expert!

Disgusting, snobby, son-of-an-alien.

Son of an alien? That was a new one. Simon wasn't actually sure what an alien was- didn't it have something to do with night-creatures?

Before he could think any further, another Minecraftian appeared, who had a spectacular blonde beard and tangled hair. He didn't have to reach far down to offer Simon his hand.

"Roger Woodcraft," he said as Simon shook the man's hand, "Nice to finally meet the man behind the stories."

Behind the stories? Great Notch above, he hoped that they weren't just going to throw him out before he inadvertently caused a disaster.

But Roger was laughing, and indicating the man who had insulted Simon's TNT. "Of course, you have already met Frank Lovepetal here."

Simon stared with disbelief at the man. 'Lovepetal'? Really?

Frank was glaring venomously at Roger, who ignored him and cheerily led Simon over to an alcove in the workshop which was lined with chests. He explained that this was where all the materials where kept, restocked daily from the furnaces and the surface. He went on the say that if Honeydew wanted the job, he was going to be looking after the mining end of business- sorting out the metal bars and telling them if there was something wrong with them. Roger was trying to start him off small, and then work him into areas he was less familiar with.

"Eventually, you'll be in charge of your own line of crafting, but for now we'll go slow." Roger said, and Simon struggled to pull his mind out of the gutter for a moment. Roger was still talking. "... but before all that, I have a test for you."

"A test? What kind of test?" Simon asked warily. "It's not one of those tests that involves running into a dark room with a monster spawner in it, is it? Because I don't like those ones, nah-ah."

"No, no. I just want you to craft me something, so I can see how skilled you are already."

Simon nodded, relieved. "What do you want me to craft?"

"I don't care what, just something that shows your skill. You can use the items in the chests."

Simon thought for a moment. What could he craft? Something fairly complex, certainly, not just a crafting table or some sticks. But building a piston or a music block was way beyond his grasp. He settled for something a little simpler, but still slightly unusual.

He picked through the chests for a moment, before making his way over to a crafting table and setting out the ingredients in the correct order. Roger and Frank came over to watch as the items flashed and a grey lump of flint and a piece of metal was left sitting on the bench. Roger, frowning, reached forward and picked it up, frowning. "Flint and tinder?"

Simon shrugged, remembering all the times he'd had to craft it to light some TNT. It really was a beautiful tool.

Frank was staring at it too now, and said contemptuously; "It looks weird... Are you sure it's flint and tinder?"

Simon was absolutely appalled; first the Minecraftian had insulted his TNT, now he was insulting his crafting too!

"I've never had any problems with it," Simon snarled at Frank, "What, do you usually get the flint and the iron the wrong way round?"

Frank looked at the Dwarf with his earlier look of scorn, and Simon almost punched him there and them. Luckily Roger interrupted.

"Actually, Honeydew, our flint and tinder does look different. Here, I'll show you," the bearded crafter pulled some items out of his pocket and expertly crafted another flint and tinder. Simon was surprised to see that the flint was a lot smoother and symmetrical that his was, and the iron thicker and shorter. He stared, confused, at his own creation.

"Perhaps it's a result of you being part Dwarf," Roger said, and Simon studied his face for any malice in his words, but only saw honest curiosity. Roger was too nice to hold Simon's parentage against him.

Then Frank decided to speak up. "It looks like it's mutated," he said, looking at Simon nastily as he spoke, "It probably doesn't even work."

Simon swelled in anger, and it was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing Frank and throttling him. Mutated?! "Sorry to tell you, love, but my flint has served me better than any that's been sent down from here."

Frank's eyes darkened when Simon said 'love', clearly thinking of his own last name. "Go on then. Prove it."

"Ah, friends, I really don't think this is a good idea..." Roger said feebly, his words unnoticed by the two arguing Crafters.

Simon was ready to do anything that would make this man take back his words. His chest puffed out in pride as well as indignation, he took his tinder in his hands and swept the lighter across it.

A rain of fire and sparks cascaded onto the wooden floor, setting the block between them alight.

Frank and Roger stared, flabbergasted, wondering how on earth the wood could have set alight so quickly.

Simon crossed his arms, waiting for the admission that his flint was superior.

It was when he realised that the Minecraftian's looks of amazement had turned into horror that he realised something was wrong. He looked back down to see that the fire was now spreading at an impossibly fast rate, quickly circling them and eating into the wooden walls.

"Argh!" Simon cried, "Holy Creepers!" he swore again and again as he tried to stomp out the fire with his foot, but it just relit itself, like one of those magical birthday candles.

Frank ran to find a bucket of water, but Roger had found himself completely surrounded by the flames. Simon wanted to help, but all his energy was going into stopping the fire getting too close to himself. The smoke was now choking him, and it was getting harder and harder to breath.

In a desperate attempt to get out of the flames, Simon dived through a gap in the wall and into a tiny cave, where he curled up and fainted from the sheer shock of it all.

Screams still echoed through his mind.

~᛬ᚫᚾ᛫ᛁᛞᛁᚩᛏᛋ᛫ᚷᚢᛁᛞᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛋᚫᚢᛁᛝ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚹᚩᚱᛚᛞ᛬~

Simon awoke when he felt a bucket of cold water empty itself on his face. He chocked for a second, sitting up immediately, and looked around through his soaked hair. He'd been dragged out of his shelter and onto what had once been wooden floor, but was now ash and charcoal.

"Simon Honeydew," a rough voice said, and Simon looked up to see a party of Dwarves looking at him, one holding an empty bucket, and one holding a piece of paper. "You are under arrest for arson, destruction of the crafting workshops, and treason..."

Simon groaned, not bothering to listen to the rest. He was doomed. After a minute he felt strong, Dwarven hands lift him to his feet, and lead him out of the room and back downstairs. Simon's mind was still too shocked to retaliate, or even really realise just how deeper shit he was in. He only realised he was in a cell when he realised he was sitting again and heard the iron key of the door click locked. He brought his knees up to his chest.

"Great Notch, Simon," he said aloud to himself. "I've really ballsed it up this time."

Who's Notch, and Simon? And who uses the term ballsed it up, anyway?

"Wait, what? Every Dwarf knew the term, ballsed it up. Why did I wonder who I was? And Notch? Who doesn't know about Notch?"

I don't... wait, Dwarf?

"I don't understand what's going on! Why is there a voice in my head that doesn't know who Notch is?"

I was about to ask the same thing, actually. Maybe I'm going senile.

"Oh Notch, my brain is telling me it's going insane. If I wasn't screwed before, I sure as nether am now."

So Notch is like a deity, or something? Wait, why am I even listening to a weird thing in my head?

"Good point, me. But I already know Notch is a developer, so why am I confused about this?"

But I don't know what Notch is. Is developer another word for god?

"I suppose, but not really... but I already knew that!"

No I don't!

"Shut up!"

No!

"Stop confusing me! I have enough to go on with as it is!"

Fine. How about this; you shut up, and I'll shut up.

"Deal."

Silence. Simon was completely and utterly confused, and had to check for a moment that he did know who Notch was. Yes, he still remembered. What an odd thing to happen, then...

Simon had no clock to keep the time with, but he guessed that it was about an hour before the voice in his head started again.

You know, you really shouldn't be able to make an agreement with your own mind.

"I thought we decided to both shut up!"

I know, but I've been thinking. Have you ever been able to hear voices in your head like this?

"Not really. Maybe it was the fire." But thinking about it, he'd had strange thoughts just before that. Son-of-an-alien?

Fire? ...nevermind. Tell me, who are you?

"But I know who I am! I'm not even middle aged, yet!" Simon cried, thinking he might be having a mid-life crisis.

Man up, bitch. Simon straightened at these words, confused. That wasn't a common Dwarven phrase, and certainly not one he'd use normally. Now, say who you are.

Simon wondered if this was his mind trying to help him get over the shock. He saw no harm in saying; "Simon Honeydew, of course. Dwarf of Khaz Modan."

Amazing, the weird part of his mind said, I am Xephos, of the U.S.S Enterprise.

"Is that a ship?"

...kind of. But don't you understand? You and I are separate people, and somehow we're managing to talk in each other's minds!

"I suppose we are," Simon acknowledged. "But that still doesn't explain how you don't know about Notch. Everyone knows about Notch, he's the creator."

The thought that came was comforting, but also slightly disdainful. There are many religions in the universe, Simon Honeydew.

Simon was still confused, but he decided to drop it. "So, where is this U.S.S enterprise? I don't know many ports, but I could probably ask."

When I said ship, that was only half of what it is. The enterprise is a spaceship.

"What? It's really, really small, to save space?"

No, you idiot, it's in space! You know! Between planets, solar systems?

"Oh. That. Like, stars? It flies among the stars?"

Yes.

"That's possible?"

Obviously.

"Are you a Minecraftian, then?"

No. What's a Minecraftian?

"They're the first creation of Notch, after pigs. They're taller than Dwarves, and live on the surface."

Oh, a little bit like us then. Or at least, before we left. I suppose you could only call us spacemen now.

"Hm. Xephos the spaceman."

Oh, you can call me Lewis. Since we're talking in our heads and all.

Simon blinked. "Lewis. What an interesting name."

Thank you.

Simon sat in what felt like a companionable silence, even though no-one was there to be companionable with. Maybe it was odd that he felt so calm having someone else in his head, but after the events of the day he really didn't care anymore. Perhaps he was going insane, but at least he would get a good conversion from it.

"So, Lewis," the name sounded oddly natural on his tongue, which was a bit creepy, but Simon continued none the less; "How's your day been?"

The voice in his head had a depressing tone. Terrible, actually.

"That makes two of us. Since I'm still not sure that I'm sane, why don't we just tell each other our sorrows?" Simon said brightly, thinking that hearing about someone else's suffering could only make him feel better.

Okay, Lewis said hesitantly. I'll go first. It started this morning when I was woken early by the alarms going off.

"Wait, you didn't happen to say that some people didn't appreciate a good sleep in, did you?" Simon asked, remembering the odd thought from the morning. He hadn't noticed that it was odd then, of course.

I did actually. Obviously you must have heard me... hm. Anyway, the alarms went off because one of the engines in the hyperdrive had malfunctioned. Since I'm the engineer in charge of the hyperdrive, I had to go fix it.

"Is a hyperdrive a kind of piston, or something?" Simon interrupted, curious.

Kind of. Imagine thousands of tiny pistons in one block. Lewis said slowly, clearly simplifying it for Simon.

"Oh. And an engineer is someone who deals in Redstone?"

I'm not entirely sure what Redstone is, but probably. Anyway, as I was saying, I had to fix the motor. The hyperdrives are right at the back of the ship, and they have an airlock there for emergencies. I don't know why, but as I was fixing the motor, the airlock opened and all the air was sucked out of the room, and- and- Lewis's voice was rising with panic, but Simon was confused.

"Why did the air get sucked out?" he asked.

Lewis took a moment to reply. Well, space is a vacuum, you know. It sucks everything into it.

"Oh, I get it. Did you get sucked out too?" Simon asked, not realising that this might not be such a tactful thing to ask.

Almost. Lewis's voice was emotionless. Someone managed to remotely close the airlock before I let go. It's probably scarred me for life, though.

Simon frowned. "Must have been scary, I suppose." Not that he could at all grasp just how terrifying the prospect of being sucked out into the nothingness of space was. "A bit like the void…"

What's the void? Lewis asked curiously.

"It's a place beneath the bedrock where the blocks end. If you fall in, you die almost instantly."

Yes. Space is a lot like the void, then. Lewis was silent for a moment, then cheerfully said; now, tell me about your horrible day.

Simon sighed, and began to re-tell what had happened to him, including how he'd managed to fail at so many things previously. Lewis was a good listener, and remained silent as he spoke. When he got up to the bit where he thought Frank must have something against him because of his parentage, he interrupted for the first time.

So, you're a Dwarf-Minecraftian hybrid? He asked curiously.

"yeah." Simon said guardedly. "Can't remember my mum- she dropped me on my dad's doorstep when I was a babby, and ran back off to live with the Minecraftians."

People pick on you a lot for this, I suppose?

"Some do, like Frank, and that guy down in the mines. They've always made it clear that I'm different from them." Simon's voice had grown bitter now.

Touchy subject?

"Yeah."

Sorry.

"Anyway, I was saying about the workshops…" Simon went on to finish his tale, up to the present point. "This cell smells a bit too- or perhaps that's just me. I haven't bathed in Notch knows how long."

Lewis's voice radiated amusement. Ah, from what I know about Dwarves, that can't be too unusual.

"You got that right." Honeydew looked around, thinking. "I'm not sure whether it's night or not, but nothing's happened for a while. I expected someone to come and talk to me a while ago."

Hm. I don't know. I'm in a windowless room at the moment.

"Fat lot of help you are. They-" quite suddenly, Simon heard loud footsteps coming towards his cell. "There's someone coming."

Do you think I'm going to be able to hear you talking to them?

"I dunno. But keep quiet for a while, would you?"

Okay.

Simon waited as the door opened with a clang, and a dark-bearded Dwarf stepped in. "Honeydew."

"Stonefist." Simon replied, warily.

"I suppose you're wondering what's going to happen, huh?" Stonefist asked a mean grin on his face.

Simon nodded, grimacing. He'd never liked Stonefist- he'd been close friends with that bigoted Dwarf from the mines.

"Well, I'm sure your pleased to know that Frank escaped the fire unharmed," Stonefist said with sickening glee, "Unfortunately, Roger wasn't so lucky. The doctors aren't sure he'll make it."

"Oh," Simon said, feeling as if the air had been sucked from the room. The images of Roger's kind, unjudging face flickered past his eyes.

"You'll be summoned later to the court to receive your punishment." Stonefist finished, though Simon never really heard him. Chuckling cruelly, the horrible Dwarf left the cell, locking it behind him.

It was a few moments before Simon registered anything but the images of Roger's kind face.

Honeydew? Simon? Are you alright?

Simon gulped. "I may have killed a man."

Oh.

"A good man."

Simon-

"Why am I such a failure?" Simon said, a lump forming in his throat. He curled his knees up to his chest, hugging them close.

Simon, you're not a failure.

"Yes I am. I can't do anything right."

You can't say that! You said you were good at TNT, right? And drinking competitions?

"But my TNT isn't that good… just big… and pretty."

That counts as good in my books. Look, we've both got our problems, okay? Let's just not get wound up in them.

Simon nodded slowly. "Thank you, Lewis. I really hope you're not a figment of my imagination."

The same to you. If you don't mind, I'm going to sleep.

"Oh," Simon said, frowning. "Okay."

Goodnight Simon.

"Goodnight, Lewis."

Then silence. Simon, now without even the weird voice in his head to keep him company, was at a loss as to what to do with himself. He eventually decided to curl up and fall asleep.

His dreams where plagued by Roger's kind face, and Frank's scornful voice, and sometimes the blaring of an alarm he didn't recognise.

~᛬ᚫᚾ᛫ᛁᛞᛁᚩᛏᛋ᛫ᚷᚢᛁᛞᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛋᚫᚢᛁᛝ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚹᚩᚱᛚᛞ᛬~

"Simon Honeydew! Awake, you brute!"

Simon jerked awake to see a Dwarf looking down at him. He sat up and saw that there was in fact a procession of Dwarves waiting to take him away to the court. One Dwarf snatched his arms and cuffed them behind his back, before pushing him forward and out of the cell.

"Lewis." He whispered, not wanting the other Dwarves to hear. He tried his best to project his thoughts to the spaceman. Lewis?

There was no response. Perhaps he was still asleep?

Meanwhile, they had climbed several flights of stairs. Simon knew the path they were treading, despite that he'd only visited the courts once before. There wasn't far to go. True to form, a minute later the Dwarves came up to a huge stone arch and pushed through the heavy wooden doors. Inside was a solitary stool standing before a huge table, behind which several chairs and a throne sat. Upon the chairs sat Dwarves, and on the throne sat the king of Khaz Modan.

The Dwarves set Simon on the stool and marched off to guard the entrances.

"Simon Honeydew, you have been accused of treason, arson, unnecessary destruction, and mental instability," One of the Dwarves announced. "What do you say in your defence?"

Simon had to think for a moment. "ah," he said, "it was an accident?"

The Dwarves around the table muttered among themselves for a second.

"Were you unaware that the floor was made of wood, or that wood was flammable?" another Dwarf asked.

"Uh- no, I-"

The Dwarf interrupted again; "Were you unaware that flint and tinder creates sparks, and is usually used to start fires?"

"No, I know what flint and tinder's for-"

"Then I fail to see how it was an accident."

Simon was getting annoyed now. "I didn't mean to set the entire bloody workshop on fire!"

"Actually, our witness says that you were fully intending to light the floor ablaze." The Dwarf gestured to the man beside him, and for the first time Simon realised that Frank was sitting at the bench too.

"He's biased!" Simon yelled desperately.

The Dwarf glared. "Don't be ridiculous, Honeydew. Do you deny that you intended to set the floor alight?"

"Well- I only meant to set the one block alight."

"So you did mean to."

"Yeah."

Another Dwarf spoke now, as the other sat back, looking smug. "Do you deny being mentally unstable?"

Simon thought about this for a moment. He really couldn't say he was sane when he'd just been speaking to a voice in his head. "No."

The Dwarf raised his brows and sat back. All the Dwarves looked up the king, hwo sighed.

"Simon honeydew, you have been found guilty of arson, treason, mental instability and unnecessary destruction." The king announced, and paused, before continuing solemnly; "You are sentenced to banishment from Khaz Modan, on pain of death."

"What?!" Simon shrieked, sounding very unmanly. "Can't I do community service, or something?"

"No" the king said. "Guards, take him out of the city."

Simon felt hand grab him and pull him towards the door. He howled at the Dwarves, calling them all sorts of terrible things, shouting that the council was corrupt. No one paid attention to him.

As the guards pulled him down the steps towards the gates, Simon wept. "Lewis, please talk to me," he said aloud. "Please be real." He begged. He needed someone who would listen. He needed to believe that someone, somewhere, thought he wasn't a failure.

Eventually the guards dragged him out into the main courtyard. Just as they were almost at the gates, a strange sound began. Simon, wrapped up in his sorrows, didn't pay attention.

The sound was a bit like a whistle, but a lot louder and deeper. It was the sound of something breaking the sound barrier. The Dwarves looked into the sky and saw a steak of light going across it, like a meteor. Their first thought was that it might have strange metals they could use; then they realised that it was headed straight for them.

"Take cover!" someone screamed, as the comet sped towards them. The guards hauled Honeydew back into a building, where they were covered with the stone arch.

Simon covered his head as whatever the comet was hit the courtyards, causing an explosion bigger than honeydew could ever hope to make. Shards of stone bounced off him as they flew from the explosion. The explosion didn't last long though- after a moment, the smoke blew away and all that was left was a crater. The guards and Simon went to the edge and peered in, along with all the Dwarves that had been in the courtyard at the item.

At the bottom of the crater lay and angular craft, smoking and broken. Simon stared. It had fallen from space. It was a spaceship! With a cry of hope, he tumbled down the edge of the crater and stumbled towards the ship. The other Dwarves yelled for him to come back, because it wasn't safe- but Simon didn't care anymore. He found a door that ripped open under his Dwarven strength, and stumbled inside.

It was a small machine, on the inside. Though the controls looked immensely complex to Simon, they were in fact very simple for a spacecraft. There was a chair, which Simon stumbled over to. In it a thin man was slumped, unconscious with a large cut on his head.

"Hello?" Simon breathed, touching the man's forehead. The man twitched away from the touch. "Lewis? Are you Lewis?" Simon asked intently.

The man didn't say anything, still unconscious. Simon sighed, wondering what to do. He could still hear the Dwarves shouting outside. There was really only one thing for it. He carefully pulled the spaceman out of his chair, and began hauling him back out of the spaceship. Outside, the Dwarves displayed shock to see that he was carrying a man- they asked him who it was, but he just snarled at them and headed for the gate.

"Wait honeydew! Don't go!"

Simon glared at them all. "If you'll remember, I'm banished. Goodbye now!"

With anger chorusing through his veins, he slung the spaceman over his shoulder and marched out of the gates into the wild.