"I'll go and see what's taking them so long." Beor promised and left the dinner table.
Coming out of the house, he approached the barn.
"Aw!" He heard his oldest child cry out angrily and immediately picked up pace. Opening the barn door, he saw his brother glaring at his children and Margol was rubbing one ear, giving Rangil a sullen look.
"I don't care what he does, you shouldn't be doing it!" Beor's brother snapped at the younger villagers, berating them. "Villagers don't play with monsters! Its dangerous!"
"What happened?" He frowned at the scene.
"It wasn't our fault! Those monsters are playing with Hero again! We just came to check, that's all!" The little villager fumed and cast the corner of the barn a resentful look.
"You said to watch him, Atta. So we were just watching him." Beor's oldest frowned up at him with a gloomy, defensive look.
"No, when I came in, they were chasing the creepers!" Rangil accused, his entire body tense like a string and hands almost shaking.
"Were not!" Margol countered angrily.
"Were too!" Rangil argued.
"He hurt my ear!" Margol sniffled. Beor sighed.
Looking at the far corner of the barn, he saw Grake's foundling sitting in the hay scattered away from the hay pile that he stacked neatly earlier. Four of the deadly creatures from the woods were poised at his side, watching the villagers with suspicious, faintly glowing green eyes. Noting their attention, one of the creatures hissed in warning and dim red embers appeared glowing in their chests through their fur.
"Brother, I... I cannot do this." Rangil held his anxious eyes at the creatures and shook his head in defeat. "I just... came to tell them that dinner was ready. And they WERE playing with the creepers."
"Were not!" Margol yelled back, but fell quiet, abashed, when Beor looked at him with disapproval for this rude behavior.
Beor made a step forward to Grake's foundling, intending to pick him up, but so did the creatures, immediately drawing forward and blocking his approach. Hero ignored everything, patting his hands on the warm straw and smiling at something only he found interesting. Maybe a bug.
"I cannot do this anymore..." Rangil breathed out nervously and turned to leave.
"Dinner time." Beor told the little villagers in a clipped tone. They ran out, quickly catching up to their uncle and running around him. Margol gave the lanky villager's back a furious look and, quickly glancing back and checking that their father didn't follow after them, stack out his tongue and pretended to mumble something, before he kept running past. He and Tnul ran in, slamming the door right in their young uncle's face.
"Hero!" Beor called out in a stern tone to their uncle's foundling. The child's careless white eyes turned to him with a question.
"Come here." Beor frowned and firmly poked his finger into the air next to himself. The child looked, blinked, and turned away. Beor huffed with frustration. He couldn't tell if Grake's foundling was ignoring him or if he didn't understand what Beor wanted. He couldn't understand the little Human's reactions like uncle Grake could.
The tall villager's eyes held for a moment on the four dangerous beings huddling close to the child. They looked like they were making themselves comfortable in the hay. A movement in the corner revealed a fifth one, digging and scratching at the freshly made wood. Beneath its feet, the wood began to darken as if charred.
Beor's lips thinned into a displeased, flat line. Sharply turning around, he left.
Coming inside the house, he saw his brother and his own children already settled and waiting at the dinner table with their uncle in his spot. A plate waited on the table next to their uncle, where he had put a small wooden board on a bench along with a soft pad, all ready for his little foundling.
"Uncle, we couldn't get him." Beor said dryly.
"Where is he?" Their uncle frowned a little.
"In the barn... But there are creepers there again."
Their uncle didn't say anything, only stood up and shuffled out of the house. He returned just moments later carrying his foundling, whom he took to the basin to wash his hands, at which his foundling made a discontent sound.
"You must clean up or no dinner, child." His uncle quietly scolded, and the toddler fell quiet. Coming back to the table, uncle Grake propped the child in his spot. The child's frown immediately gave way to anticipation at the sight of a plate. It was still empty. A little further away stood several steaming pots, one filled with porridge and another with noodles. A large plate of freshly baked bread waited on the table.
White eyes settled on the bread, but the child resisted the impulse to reach out and take it. Doing so before earned him a light slap on his hands and his grandfather's scolding look, so the toddler already knew that everyone had to wait until it was the right time. They were supposed to eat dinner together and at the same time.
Beor's lips twitched.
"Uncle, this cannot continue." He pointed out. His voice raised only a little, but everyone at the table hushed quiet and looked at him. His uncle's brows came together in disapproval, but he calmly set up a plate, which he moved to Beor first, before proceeding to fill up another plate for Rangil.
"You don't have to be scared of those creatures, child. Just ignore them and pretend they are not there. Then they won't get in the way." The old villager insisted. "That's what I do. I think... they are just trying to protect Hero in their own way."
"Uncle! They hissed at us! And their chests glowed!"
"They don't do that to me." Their uncle stubbornly insisted, though less certain and not meeting Beor's frustrated eyes.
"You don't really know what goes through their heads." Beor insisted. "What if they decide to attack? Its fine that they ignore you, but they almost attacked Rangil yesterday, when he was working in the field."
Rangil defensively nodded, his lips downturned.
"Uncle, I really mean this. I don't think this child is even a Human. No Humans have magic like this."
A stubborn frown settled in their uncle's face as he continued to look at his plate. "He is just little, that's all. That's why the monsters didn't kill him when he was a baby. That's what the elders said. And now he even smells like a villager. Those creatures are not too smart. They probably don't even know that he is a Human." Their uncle defensively grumbled. Beor sighed.
"Uncle, they don't just ignore him. They play with him! And monsters don't react to anyone like that! Only to other monsters! I think that's what he is."
"Does he look like a creeper to you?" Their uncle snorted a little, looking up. "He is not a monster. He is a Human. Just look at those books over there. They show very clearly that this is what little Humans look like."
At the old villager's gesture, everyone glanced at the books sitting on Grake's corner table.
"He just has a strange magic, that's all." The old villager shrugged. Having filled up two more plates, he pushed them to Margol and Tnul. After an uncertain glance at the grown-ups, the little villager's hunger won and he dug in. Looking at him, his younger brother followed their example.
White eyes noted their behavior and switched to his own plate, which remained empty. Hero's lips settled into a hurt pout.
"If that's what you really think, why are you hiding this, then? Why are you keeping it from everyone that monsters come and play with him? Why did you tell us not to tell anyone about this? Maybe I should go to the elders and tell them?" Beor raised his voice, unable to overcome the bitter feeling that flared in his heart.
This time, his uncle threw up his eyes at him and blinked in surprise, which quickly turned to anxiety, then reproach. He slowly shook his head. But Beor already regretted that he allowed himself to say those stinging words. He knew very well how much his uncle worried about his foundling and his increasing strangeness.
"Child, if you don't wish to help me, then don't. You are free to leave, you and your brother. But don't be telling everyone things like that! They simply won't understand. What am I going to do if they tell me that I cannot keep him? Look at him, kari. Does he look like a monster to you?"
The little villagers didn't pay attention, too busy eating their meal, but the eyes of both adult villagers drew to the toddler, who kept hopefully staring at his empty plate. He shifted contently when Grake moved it closer to the pot and began to fill it.
"Where am I going to take him if they tell me to get rid of him, Beor? To the woods? How will he live there all alone? Those monsters play with him, but they run away when he starts crying. They have no idea how to take care of him or what to do when he gets hurt. He is too little to take care of himself." Uncle Grake appealed.
He moved Hero's plate to him and Hero followed the example of the other children.
"Beor?" Rangil protested in an unhappy voice, drawing his brother's gaze next. "Can we please not argue about this just now? It's all right. Let's just eat dinner. Please."
Glancing at his brother's pleading face, Beor sighed. His little brother hated arguing. He nodded, turning to his plate. They began to eat dinner.
The toddler's white eyes flicked up and held for a moment on his family's strangely quiet, pensive faces. Even both of the younger villagers acted quieter than usual, casting everyone shy, unsure glances. Usually, they were not paying attention to grown ups at all, but giggling and telling each other something in quiet voices.
Their uncle wouldn't look at his grown-up nephews, his shoulders tense and his face distraught, eyebrows drawn in worry. By the end of dinner, Beor sincerely regretted that he spoke out at all.
After dinner, he waited until everyone left the kitchen and then stepped into his uncle's way when he returned to have his cup of water.
"I'm sorry, uncle." Beor apologized. His uncle nodded, still frowning and not quite looking up. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not going to run and complain. We are here to help. I am here to help. It... doesn't really matter to me if he is a Human or not. I just... " He winced.
"If he is a monster, then... I don't know. He shouldn't be here... But I also don't want him to be abandoned out there, all alone. That time when he got lost..."
Beor's voice caught a little as guilt tried to come up. He forced it down.
"I know that he cannot take care of himself. He is too little. He was put in your path for you to take care of him. And I agreed to help. That's why I came. And I also... I remember what its like when no one wants you. I'm so, so grateful that our atta accepted us and called us a Blessing, so me and Rangil had a family. He... he is your blessing. I won't take him away from you, I promise."
Beor earnestly promised and saw that his uncle quietly listened. "I just want everything to be all right. I want my children to be safe, too. I know that he doesn't mean to put us all in danger. I just wish... I just wish that those monsters would stop coming."
This time his uncle did look up and his gaze was troubled. "I understand your worries, child. I am... not sure what to do. Maybe if we kept a better eye on him? Heh, that's why I keep complaining for everyone to keep that door closed." His uncle grumbled a bit.
"Its hard to keep an eye on him, uncle." Beor said wearily. "But we'll try harder."
"Good. It will be easier once he learns more words. He's doing good and he is already starting to listen." Uncle Grake offered hopefully. "He is not dumb. Once he learns to understand us better, it will be much easier to teach him our rules. We'll just have to wait a little longer until then." His uncle encouraged. Beor nodded.
"I hope so."
This time, his uncle smiled a little and his eyes hopefully lit up. A burden immediately rolled off Beor's chest. He absolutely hated the guilt he felt whenever his uncle became unhappy.
"Everything will be fine, kari. Just trust and wait." His uncle repeated his usual saying and, dropping his gaze, shuffled back to his room that was right next to Hero's.
Beor watched him go, frowning a little. Then, he went to the door and opened it, taking a look outside. Fresh air scented with grass and rich soil met him. Darkened woods stood beyond with mist slowly creeping in. By habit, Beor searched the wheat field and noted several furry forms playfully skirting between the tall stalks. Shaking his head, the younger villager headed inside, tightly closing the door and locking it...
... Laying in his bed, the toddler looked up to the ceiling with his white eyes, a pout on his usually cheerful face.
His grandfather was unhappy.
And both other villagers that came to live with them and helped his grandfather, they were not happy, either. Their words made his grandfather feel bad. And it was because of him, Hero. And it was because of those warm, fuzzy creatures that kept coming to play with him. He liked to play with them. They were funny and nice. But their being here made everyone unhappy.
The toddler's pout grew and he made a quiet sniffle. Then, he scooted off his new bed and pushed open the big, creaky door. His white eyes held on his uncle's back as he was washing dishes in a basin in the kitchen. The table was already cleared and empty of the delicious food that the child already wished to see again.
Turning away, the toddler went to the front door. Serious, white eyes looked up to the iron lock, just out of his reach...
... Beor continued to wash dishes, when a strange feeling went through him, chilling him to the bone. Gasping, his eyes flew open and he span around, trying to catch his breath as his heart thumped in his chest. His eyes fell and held on the front door, ajar.
A few hesitant steps on feet that refused to listen, brought the villager closer.
A cautious push and the door opened the entire way. The villager stepped outside.
Many lit torches flickered faintly, keeping shadows at bay and establishing a bright barrier of safety immediately around their house and leading up the path to the rest of the brightly lit village. Beor could hear the voices of the other villagers secure in their houses, having dinner with their families and friendly talking.
The moon floated above in the sky, alone and thinly veiled with feathery light clouds. Nothing sounded, not even crickets ever present in the grass. There were no soft chirps of the creepers, either.
There was nothing, only silence and faint touch of the wind as it breathed upon the swaying stalks of ripening wheat. Frowning, the villager cautiously surveyed the area around him. A faint glimpse of something white caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat.
"H-Hero?..." He asked quietly, holding his breath.
The bit of white turned, becoming two eyes, glowing in the dark, just beyond the lit edge of the field. The faint light revealed Hero's little face, pouting unhappily as he sat alone on the ground.
"Hero? What are you doing out here?" Beor asked uncertainly, his heart still beating fast. The eerie feeling that he felt earlier, though, was gradually dispelling. Instead, calmness began to settle over the villager and he breathed out in relief.
It was just Grake's little foundling, who somehow escaped the house again. Not some strange and powerful monster, whose menacing presence Beor had suddenly felt nearby. Instead of responding, the child turned away and looked to the woods again, still pouting unhappily. Beor peered there as well and saw nothing but darkness.
Gingerly, carefully searching the ground for the tale-tell reddish glow and finding none, he approached the child until he stood next to him.
"Hero?" He asked quietly, looking at the small being next to his feet.
Instead of answering, the toddler reached his fists and rubbed his eyes, making a whimper that he did when he grew very tired. The strange feeling let go of Beor entirely. Instead, he frowned at the child.
"If you were tired, why did you not stay in bed?" He grumbled. The child lifted his small hands in a pick-me-up gesture and Beor automatically leaned and picked him up. He then paused and tensed, waiting as he expected to hear a familiar warning hiss.
Everything remained strangely quiet.
Another suspicious look revealed no lurking forms. Hero leaned his head against the villager's shoulder, unable to shake the irresistible drowse that suddenly came over him.
Beor carried the sleepy toddler home. Putting him in his bed, he watched the child clutch on to his favorite blanket and turn away, where his small body remained still, already deeply asleep.
Making another humph, Beor returned to the door and considered the locks, which he purposefully placed high enough so that none of the children could easily reach it.
"Did I forget to lock it? I am sure I locked it..." The villager muttered to himself. Frowning, Beor gave the dark, still world outside another look, then closed the door securely and locked it once more.
Making another puzzled hum, the villager headed back to the basin to finish washing dishes.