Thoughts of the Enderman came back to him when he opened his door one morning to find strange items placed there, in front of it. Mostly rocks laced with quartz that sparkled and shone in the light. Two of the rocks contained iron ore; which he could sell to the Blacksmith in town. There were some plants, clearly uprooted, a few clumps of dirt, and a few bits of wood. One of the stones, though, made his breath catch. He looked at it closer, then tapped at the sparkling gems held within. Diamonds. There was no mistaking it.
But who had put them there? And why? He was just about to bring them inside when he heard the strange, staticy chirp to his left. . A rush of ice went down his spine and he froze. As he looked around, careful not to move his head, or look too high, he caught sight of the creature's clawed. digitgrade feet, which took a step back. He heard a stick crack under its weight, and a moment later – Bamf! The creature was gone leaving nothing but a few of those odd floating particles, which vanished a few moments later.
Evan stood frozen to the spot for several moments, alert and listening, but there was no further sign of the Enderman.
But that told him the creature was still in the general area. That thought was nerve-wracking. He decided to work around the house that day. He would mine for coal later.
Again, several days passed without incident. A time or two, he thought he saw the Enderman, but that could have been his own paranoia playing tricks on his eyes.
Finally, he realized he did need to visit his mine, so he gathered up his tools, then made his way carefully to his coal mine. He was alert as he walked, but he saw no sign of the shadowy entity. The mine was kept steady with scaffolding made of wood thanks to the skill of his great grandfather. He had built some scaffolding himself as well. All in all it was reasonably safe and sturdy. He had to be on guard, though; the undead tended to take shelter in anything that was to be found underground to escape the burning rays of the sun.
He was also alert for any signs of the Enderman. He knew they seemed to prefer dark areas, and his mineshaft was, indeed, dark. He was relieved when no signs of the creature presented themselves, and he got to work, chipping away at the stone to get at the veins of coal held within. He was just about to head back when he heard odd, shuffling steps followed by a wet-sounding disjointed groan.
"Damn!" he swore to himself. Evan quickly raised his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and pulled the string back. At least the undead announced their presence with their odd, disgusting-sounding moans and shambling steps. Zombies weren't exactly smart. Mindless dead things that 'lived' for nothing but living, human flesh.
Well, it wasn't going to get a piece of him! Not today! Not any day! As he got the shambling, rotting figure in his sights and prepared to let his arrow fly, the sharp 'Vwoomp!' of a teleport made him jump terribly, sending the arrow flying off gods knew where. The sound of the teleport was followed by a growl. He saw the glowing eyes, staring at the zombie. The Enderman was in a crouch, unable to get much higher up; but Evan couldn't see many details of it. The cave was dark other then the torches he had on his small cart.
The zombie seemed uninterested in the Enderman, and kept shambling towards Evan, who stood frozen to the spot in fear. The shadowy creature growled again as the zombie kept its shambling pace towards the human. Evan shakily reached for his quiver, finding it was empty. Damn! He should have brought more then one arrow! He cursed to himself for that. He backed up to the wall, his knees shaking as the Enderman suddenly charged the zombie. He noticed its frame changed a bit as it charged, claws growing long and sharp as sharp spines appeared on its back.
The zombie didn't stand a chance. One slash of razor sharp claws had it staggering, and another had it rent nearly in half, and a third slash had its head rolling away. The sickly moan of the undead thing choked off halfway through the shadowy monster's attack. The Enderman sniffed at its claws, and let out a staticy cough and shook its head unpleasantly before it turned its head to stare at the zombie for a moment. It even nudged the body with a foot, before making that unpleasant grimace again.
Then... its eyes turned to Evan. Evan was terrified. That zombie was in three pieces, on the ground. Those claws had rent it in half, flesh and bone, as if it was made of butter! And Evan was sure those claws had been meant for him.
That could have been him. He was frozen to the spot, staring back at the Enderman in terror. He was snapped out of his stupor by a sharp clatter as his bow hit the floor. That snapped him out of it long enough to turn tail and run, straight past the Enderman, as fast as he could. He left his cart and tools, and dropped bow behind. He was too scared to think to grab them as he ran. His steps pounded against the ground as he tried to muster as much speed as he could. Every step he expected those deadly claws to tear into his back.
But they never came. He tore out of the mine and down the path back to his house, falling twice and scraping up his knees. But each time he got back up and kept running.
A few heartstopping times, he thought the creature was right behind him. He had never run so far, or so fast in his life. As he arrived at his house, he rushed inside and shut his door and sank to his knees, shaken to his very core.
"Oh gods.. that could have been me..." he panted, eyes wide in panic. "That was too close... way too close... oh gods that was supposed to be me..." he felt light headed from it all. He was actually a bit surprised, albiet relieved, that he hadn't wet himself in fear. Hands trembling, he took his armor off and changed into his nightclothes. He glanced towards the window, and jumped back with a gasp, a jolt of icy fear going up his spine as he thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes there, but when he looked again there was nothing.
"Just my nerves..." Evan breathed out, closing his eyes. "It didn't follow me. If it did I'd be dead..." Just hearing his own voice reassured him that he was still alive and in one piece. He had encountered the creature twice now. Was it... stalking him? He had never heard of such a thing, but the thought of it stalking him sent shivers of fear all through him.
He barely slept that night, so he took it easy the next day. In fact, he didn't leave the house. He occupied himself with cleaning and tidying up what parts of it were currently livable. He still had two bedrooms to finish; but for now the kitchen, livingroom, bathroom, and dining room were finished. He had his bed in the livingroom next to the fireplace, which was lit up by a warm, cheerful fire. It was early spring; the frost no longer wreathing the ground but mornings were still cold and and the days nippy. It was nice to be warm when it was cold out.
The next day, he cursed to himself. He had left his pickaxe, his bow, and his cart, in the mine. He realized he would have to go back and get them, but after encountering the Enderman, he was, admittedly, terribly afraid.
He put his armor on and strapped his sword to his hip before he nervously pushed his door open. His eyes moved quickly left and right as he listened intently. He carefully stepped out of his door, when he tripped and nearly fell over something that had not been there the night before. He looked down, and let out a shocked gasp.
On the ground was his pickaxe, and a few feet away, his bow. Next to that was his cart, with the coal he had found two days prior in the mine before his mad dash for home. He looked around in confusion, before he nervously put his pickaxe away, and wheeled the cart back to the old barn which doubled as a storage shed and stored the coal away. His mind buzzed with questions. How had they gotten there? Had somebody been out to visit him and thought he had forgotten them in the mine? No... it couldn't have been. Nobody visited him out here, much less wandered into his mine! It had to be the Enderman! But why had it brought his things to him? He had no idea. Perhaps it mocked him? Maybe it was playing with him. Like a cat playing with a mouse. He shivered at the thought.
Again, a few days passed without incident. Days turned to weeks, with occasional sightings here and there. He also noticed that more and more odd items were left at his door. Mostly ores, or stones laced with crystals of various colors. Most not of much value other then being pretty. Sometimes he found chunks of earth with a flower growing from it; and sometimes little piles of sand as if somebody had dropped a handful there. He generally left the things alone, but sometimes he had to move them aside so as not to block his door.
Having gotten a book from the village library, Evan had been reading up on Endermen. Not much was known about them, but he had read that they could be observed if you didn't look right at them. He was nervous about trying to catch sight of it; but he was a bit curious. What were its motives? Why was it leaving items by his door? What was its interest in him? Was it, in fact, the same one each time? It had to have features distinctive from others of its kind, though he really hoped it was just one. One Enderman was a hell of a lot less scary then, say, two or three or more.
He finally caught sight of it, near sundown, three weeks after he had fled in a blind panic from his mine. He had heard it several times over the past three weeks; but had never caught more then a fleeting glimpse of it vanishing into the forest.
It made odd chirping and cooing sounds, and he slowly lifted his head a bit to try to get a better look at its face. His curiosity was getting the better of him.. and the past three weeks had him feeling a bit less afraid then he had before. The Enderman had yet to attack him. He was starting to question its intentions. He drew his sword before he looked at its face. Glowing eyes stared back at him, before the Enderman let out a sharp, staticy open-mouthed hiss at him and vanished with the 'vwoomp' of its teleportation. He tensed, almost expecting an attack... but the Enderman was gone. He was still nervous, but less so.
The next week had him noticing more and more signs of the creature. And it was getting bolder. The sounds came closer and closer.
He tried to keep his eyes to the ground and continue his work despite the dangerous creature he kept encountering; which was hard. But he had to keep going. His crops were starting to grow, and his animals needed tending to.
He went into the woods to gather firewood for his stockpile for winter. Winter was over. And the next one a long way off, but winters in these parts were harsh and long. He'd need plenty of wood and stored food to get him through the harsh season when it came.
He lead his mule down the path he'd cleared, gathering as much deadwood as he could find; wood dry and ready for use. He heard the animal bray and paw the ground with its hoof, before he felt something brush against his back. At first, he thought it was the branches of a tree.
Until he heard a quiet, staticy chirp. Right behind him. The creature was mere inches away from him. He went stiff. He felt that touch to his shirt again. His breath caught in his throat and he turned around quickly, only to see its black form retreating quickly into the trees and heard it teleport away once again. He felt cold all over. It was so close. It had touched him!
But he realized something. That touch had been gentle. Tentative. Almost... curious. Something that had left clawmarks in the stone of his mine. Something that had slashed a zombie into three pieces. Something that could kill him as easily as look at him, had touched him so gently he had thought he'd brushed up against something. He had not felt claws, nor was his shirt damaged in any way.
He was thoughtful and reflective as he headed back to his house with a full load of fire wood, which he placed in the stockpile he kept in his barn. As he walked from his barn to his house, he looked up.
"Finally." he mused out loud. "Looks like it will rain soon." It hadn't rained in over a month; which was a bit odd in these parts. But with the warmer air of spring coming in strong, clouds were building up and darkening over head. He found himself actually briefly worrying about the Enderman. He had seen one die once, from a downpour of rain. It had been teleporting everywhere it could to escape the downpour, screaming horribly until it had died not five feet away from him, leaving nothing but a smear of dark blood, a black skeleton, and a green gem large enough to fill his hand in the rib cage. It had been a terrible sight, and he'd actually pitied the creature despite its deadly reputation.
He shook off the spark of concern. The Enderman would probably find shelter... or something. Why did he care? Perhaps it was because the Enderman had not actually attacked him since his first encounter with it. It had attacked a zombie... but he had found his tools left by his door he next time he left his house. Logically, the Enderman was the only way they could have gotten there. He wondered if it knew that was a zombie; but he shook off that thought quickly. There was no way the creature would protect him! It probably just hated zombies a bit more then it hated him. But then... it had touched him. Just earlier that day, the Enderman had touched him, without leaving so much as a scratch.
Was it just curious? These thoughts went round and round in his mind as he watched the darkening sky through his window. He had a feeling he'd be having another sleepless night.