A Year and a Half Later

"What's going on here?" Rangil frowned at the strangely quiet children, whom he discovered giggling in the barn.

"Nothing!" Margol lied to him with a straight face, while both of the younger children, Tnul and Hero, gave him tell-tale guilty glances. Rangil frowned heavier and gave the barn around him a careful look in an attempt to learn what mischief the children had gotten to this time.

Nothing seemed out of place. Stacks of wheat and woven baskets filled each side of the barn neatly along with several heavy jars of water, milk, and juice. A small anvil and a table stood to the left, filled with tools, reaping sickles and threshers.

Rangil's gaze swept across the wheat stacks, uncertain. He just opened his mouth to tell the children to go and wash up when a hiss sounded behind him.

"Hssssst."

The sound froze Rangil's feet to the ground, making his heart explode in a flurry of frantic rhythm as all of his old fears burst to the surface. His blood running cold as his cheeks slowly paled, he slowly turned around. His eyes fell on a blanket that held over a small, shifting form. On the ground beneath it, Rangil's eyes found the end of a rope, which one of the children had hastily dropped.

Still not quite believing himself, he reached out to the blanket and slowly slipped it off. A small green creature gave him a rather sad look.

"Pssssttt." It complained.

"Aaah!" Rangil yelled, violently stumbling back until his spine hit the table and some of the tools crashed to the ground. The creature, its neck constricted by a looped rope, tensed. It's chest began to pulse, the color changing from light green to amber.

"No, Poofy!" Hero lunged to him and hugged the being with both arms, looking at it insistently with both eyes. White eyes gazed deeply into amber glowing ones, and then the light within the creeper's chest began to calm, disappearing beneath its green fur, which briefly puffed out only to settle into a sleek surface. Hero petted the being's fur gently.

Feeling his entire body trembling and his foot aching where a heavy wooden handle had hit it after it fell, Rangil cast a fuming glance at the two older children, now nearly two heads taller than the little Monster. He caught Margol smirking at him with derision. Frowning more, he pointed a shaking finger at the door.

"Out... Go!" He first whispered, then yelled. Then, noticing the creature startling, forced himself to calm down again. "And tell Grandpa Grake that you won't be having any dinner."

The smile on Margol's face had fled. Giving his uncle an angry look, he grabbed Tnul by his arm and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go." He said sharply. The younger villager obeyed, casting his uncle and little Hero a guilty gaze. Hero paid no attention, still cautiously petting his creature.

"Poofy is good. He won't explode." He said softly.

"Why is he here?!" Rangil hissed, himself sounding like a creeper.

Hero hesitantly shrugged his shoulders. "Margol and Tnul said... It would be safe... I told them that he is my pet..."

"Take him out! I warned you before. If I saw another creeper around here then there'd be trouble. You asked for it! Get rid of him. This instant!"

Hero's lips turned upside down as he pouted. Not daring to look up, he nodded and picked up the rope, gently tugging on it as he pulled the being with him toward the door. Rangil followed them with his eyes until they both disappeared, after which he took a shaken breath and breathed out slowly.

Lifting his hands, he hid his face in them. "Brother, I wish you were here." He whispered, overwhelmed. He was not doing so well.

Stumbling a little on unsteady feet, he went inside the house, where grandpa Grake's lost look met him. He defensively pointed back in the general direction of the barn. "They brought a creeper into the barn!" He said sharply.

The elder villager's eyes opened wider and then he shook his head, lowering it as his lips thinned in disappointment and disapproval. Silently, he took three plates off the table and put them back on the rack. An angry huff drew Rangil's gaze and he saw Margol and Tnul peeking out from his room. His lips twisted with bitter anger, the oldest child sharply withdrew from sight and pulled his brother away, too.

Rangil silently sat at the table, leaning on his elbows. His hands still shook.

"Rangil. It is all right. No harm done. It was just a prank."

"A prank? We could have died! He has no control of those creatures! They come and go as they please, not listening to him at all!

Just then, Hero came in quietly through the front door, his eyes already glistening with tears. Without lifting his gaze, he stood at the edge and waited.

"Stand in the corner! Now!" Rangil raised his voice and the child flinched slightly, but obediently went to the corner of the room by the fireplace and stood there, facing the wall.

"Rangil, don't be so harsh. If anything, I would say that it is Margol who is responsible for what happened. He probably told him to do it. In any case, he is the oldest, so Hero must do as he says. You said so yourself before."

"I know!" Rangil said with frustration and rubbed his aching eyes. He was almost ready to cry. He didn't know how to discipline Margol, who didn't listen to him at all anymore. At least Tnul and Hero still did. But more often than not, they now listened to Margol instead. His uncle Grake preferred to not interfere at all, always taking the side of his foundling, just as he was doing now.

"I've already punished them. No dinner. Same as him."

Grandpa Grake sighed. "He already eats so little, because you're always punishing him. It's not right or healthy for him, kari."

"Well, he is not a Human! He can handle it." Rangil said harshly. The child in the corner turned and gave his uncle a mournful gaze, before turning to his grandfather in silent plea of assistance."

"He is a Human. The Witch lied to Beor. I've told you this before. She was not a proper witch. She chose the path of the Forsaken. That's why the Jaio punished her and she is no longer here." Grake said gravely, fully believing his own words.

Rangil rolled his eyes. "I don't care what he is at this point! He is a menace! Dangerous! That's a little monster, that's what he is! And you know it, uncle." The younger villager told Grake, shaking his finger in the direction of the said nuisance, who made the first sniffle as he began to cry softly.

"I don't know why you want to keep him so much. He's been nothing but trouble ever since you brought him here. He doesn't work. He doesn't help. All he does is eat."

"Well, he tries... He is still little." The old villager defended his foundling half-heartedly.

"Little? He's been with you for five years! All the other children already grew up! He barely changed at all since we moved in with you. Margol and Tnul are younger than he is, but they already help. And he is still useless!... And look at all that salt water he is making again. Stop it, do you hear?"

Rangil angrily frowned in direction of the strange child, who nodded obediently, but new tears continued to trail down his cheeks to his short nose and chin.

"That's just how he cries. It's probably normal for Humans." The old villager only sighed wearily.

"Well, I think it's disgusting and he shouldn't be doing it." The villager glared at the child in the corner a bit more, before turning to face the elder once more.

"He is still very young, Rangil." The elder tried to appeal once again. "Humans take longer to grow up, remember? The elders said so. They said that it's probably because they live longer. So, they stay young longer, too."

"I don't care, Grake. He's causing too much trouble! I wish you had just left him where you found him."

"Rangil-"

The younger villager suddenly paused and sniffed the air, after which his expression screwed up with disgust. "... And he smells again!"

The older villager winced at the accusation. "I could not help him with his bath last night. There was no water drawn, and he is too scared to go to the river by himself."

"Yes, I know! But he always smells. It's disgusting. Its like we're sharing our house with a dirty animal."

"I'll take him to the riverside myself first thing tomorrow morning-" Old Grake promised reluctantly, not looking forward to the long walk.

"Ugh, it's not even about that!" His nephew angrily threw up his hands. "Or not just that... My brother was right all along. He is not Human, Grake! No Humans have eyes like that. Or make fire with their hands! It's not normal even for them! I know what I'm talking about, Grake, I've read those books, too. The worst thing is his power with those monsters. We could have died, uncle! I don't know how you can be so calm about that!"

At the last words, quiet sniffles in the corner turned into muffled sobs. Catching the guilty, softly glowing white eyes turned into their direction, the younger villager warningly pointed a finger and the creature that Grake still thought to be a Human again turned away to face the wall.

"I'm telling you, Grake. You must get rid of him. Before something bad happens. Just take him somewhere far to the woods where that Enderman cannot get to him and leave him there! You know that he will just respawn somewhere else. Far from here! So, we won't have to deal with all this anymore."

"Please, Rangil. You know that he won't respawn normally. He will probably reappear nearby, not somewhere far away. He won't be able to survive out there like that! He is too little. Do you really want him to die again and again as he wanders about lost and alone? I know you better than this..."

"I..." Rangil lowered his head, frowning and shaking it a little as he considered the older villager's gently reproachful words.

"Rangil, he is not that bad. Wait until he grows up. Then, he will probably leave himself."

"I don't care... I DON'T WANT HIM IN THIS HOUSE!" The young villager exclaimed.

Folding his hands, he glared at the older villager. "I've waited long enough and I've had enough of this nonsense. It's either him or us. You'll have to choose."

The old villager looked with a lost expression between the adamant face of his relative and the small form standing in the corner and sighed...

A little later, the old villager led the way to the barn that stood not far from the family house, the little human child following him with a bundle of his belongings clasped in his hands. The barn was in a state of disrepair, since the recent storm had swept through a few weeks past and Rangil had said that he was too busy to repair it. And Grake was simply too old. He could barely walk now and each step made his bones creak and hurt. The old villager's pace matched well the short steps of the little child timidly walking behind him.

Casting a guilty look in the child's direction, the old villager humphed and opened the crooked door of the barn, letting the child in. Searching around, the villager made his way to the corner, where a stack of hay lay on the ground. Grake's eyes worriedly drew to the spot of cracked, black wood which another creeper had recently burnt after he startled it, catching it sleeping in the barn. It's magic had flared out, nearly blinding him, before the creature ran out. He had to tell Rangil about it since Rangil caught him trying to repair the wood and his nephew angrily told him not to bother.

"Here you go, Hero."

The old villager placed the blanket on the hay and spread it, trying to make the spot comfortable.

"It won't be that bad living here. You'll see. It's safe and dry. You'll be fine. And you're old enough to sleep alone."

The boy nodded, looking sad. But no new salt water came running down his cheeks, so Grake figured that he was well enough and didn't need to be held to be comforted. Instead, he ruffled the soft fur on his head, evoking a small grin.

Grake still spent a bit more time with the child, helping him settle in. Then, he regretfully considered him, wishing that his relatives were not so dead set on rejecting the little being.

He didn't understand why they all disliked him so much. Ever since Grake brought him, they continued to find fault with him.

First, it was his inconsolable and frequent crying that annoyed them, because it didn't sound exactly as the cries their children made. Then, it was because he remained so helpless and small, when their own children already began to run and play and the older children made fun of him for that. It took a long time for Hero to learn how to do the simplest of things and he still could not talk well. Many of the other villagers still thought him a nitwit. But most of all, they didn't like the way he looked at them with his strange, white eyes, claiming that it gave them a weird feeling and scared them.

Grake couldn't understand this.

He enjoyed spending time with the child. And he was going to miss the warmth of his presence when Hero would cuddle next to him, trustingly leaning his furry head against the old villager's arm. And the peaceful breathing, which for some reason relaxed him. In the last four and a half years that he cared for the little human, the old villager grew attached to him, so he didn't really mind his strangeness.

Still, he cared about being accepted by his family and friends more. And... he owed to Rangil after everything that happened because of Hero. Him and his missing brother. Grake sighed heavily as old guilt rose up in him again, pressing heavy upon his heart.

Three times, Beor had gone out on his travels, searching for the Humans. And on the fourth... he never came home...

"You'll be fine here, little fellow. You'll see. You'll be well. I'll still take care of you. If you need anything at all, you can come and ask. All right?" The old villager instructed and the child nodded. And then Grake left him alone, shuffling back to the house where his relative's critical look met him.

By then, his nephew had calmed down some. Not entirely pleased that Grake still insisted on keeping his foundling, but realizing that there was nothing that he could do to change that, Rangil seemed content that the strange creature was out of their house.

Nodding to him with grudging approval, the younger villager grumbled. "At least it's far enough away." At Grake's questioning look, Rangil shrugged. "In case he sets fire to that place. It's far enough away so it won't reach our house." He explained.

The old villager only humphed in response. He couldn't deny his relative's concern about that unsettling trait that his young foundling had. More and more of Grake's relatives and neighbors now said that Grake was wrong about adopting his foundling, who ended up being a Monster.

Grake heard them. And tried to keep them from learning about the other strange things that Hero could do, such as his tie to the monsters. Only it became difficult after he began to join the other children in the village.

Children gossiped and so did their parents. And no matter how mean some of them were to him, Hero still tried to approach them, tried to follow them. And even though Grake told him to keep his strange abilities hidden, sometimes Hero forgot about it. Or the other children goaded him into doing things, for which he would get in trouble.

Like the idea with the creeper. Surely, it was not Hero who decided to bring him into the barn. It was probably his two bigger brothers. They knew best how docile the monsters acted around him for some reason.

"He needs to eat something, Rangil. He is too small and thin." Grake said firmly when he returned home and looked at his nephew, who himself was not really eating as he thoughtfully stirred his mushroom stew in his plate. His face looked splotched red as if he had been either angry or crying. Avoiding to look at him, after a moment his nephew reluctantly nodded.

Grake then silently prepared a portion of the meal to take to the little human in the barn. Before leaving though, Grake saw Margol and Tnul peeking from their room again. Margol was casting angry, resentful looks in barn's direction. They whispered something, leaning close to each other, and then snickered in not a nice way, their eyes filled with anticipation of new mischief, which Grake was sure would be aimed at Hero.

Grake only shook his head as he made his way out of the door. Once again, Hero managed to accidentally turn others against him. Grake worried about what would happen to the little fellow when he, Grake, would be gone. Because he could feel it coming closer. The time when he would no longer be there to protect the strange little human he found in the woods. He could only hope that it would happen later. Just a bit more time for the little human to grow up and become strong enough to fend for himself.

Because that's all that he could give him, old Grake thought sadly to himself.

Pushing the creaky door of the barn open, Grake saw the little human's face light up at his coming. Next thing he knew, the boy was next to him, his small arms thrown around him in a hug.

"There, there. It will be fine, Hero. You'll see. It will be all good. You will just have to be patient. And it will all work out. Even if it seems a bit hard right now."

Noting the confused, questioning look in the child's glowing eyes, Grake only sighed and drew his own free arm around the child to comfort him back. Then, he grinned.

"I've brought you dinner." He said and reached the bowl with stew and bread to the boy. Immediately, Hero turned his full attention to the meal, hastily eating everything. Looking at his fragile little frame, the old villager wondered just where all that food went. No matter how much the child ate, it seemed to just disappear, with him still remaining small.

"I've also brought you something else." The old villager said and pulled out a white bundle from under his shirt where he hid it, so his relatives would not notice it. The cloth unfolded in Grake's hands, turning into a cape adorned with a faintly visible mysterious curved symbol.

"This belongs to you." The old villager explained to the curiously watching child.

"When you were little, I've many times told you the story about how I found you. And I've even shown you the place. But you were very little, then. So, I will tell you this story again. And tomorrow, I will take you there again. And I hope you remember it all. Because... I think it might be important... And you listen and try to remember, all right?"

At the boy's nod, the old villager humphed and ran his hand over the amazingly smooth, silky material of the white cloth, still as snow-white clean as it was when he found it.

"All right... It was four and a half years ago and I was coming home late one day..."

...

Thunder rolled almost directly overhead and the little boy jumped, nervously drawing the thick woolen blanket to his chin, trying to find comfort in the familiar feeling that brought to him, of his caretaker gently tucking it in around him before he fell asleep.

Lightning flashed, revealing the half-empty barn around him, its boards crooked and dark, allowing drafts of cold wind to sneak through the cracks in the walls. The old wood creaked and branches violently hit against the walls outside.

The child shivered in his spot, his glowing gaze drawing to the half-open door through which he could see the dark woods. He wished very much that his caretaker would walk through that door right now and stay with him, so he could cuddle by his side, just as he used to before he moved to live here in this shaky shelter.

Another roll of thunder made Hero bury his face in his blanket and curl up tighter, dampening his guilt a little. He was afraid. Storms and the loud thunder scared him.

He was not crying though. He knew it wouldn't help any. And if the other children saw him, they would only tease him more for it.

Drawing the heavy blanket over his head entirely, Hero closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, in and out, turning his attention within himself to the bright center of light that he saw there. It helped him. Calming, warm, the light steadily pulsed in rhythm with his heart.

Closing his eyes to shut away their glow, Hero lay with the blanket tightly folded around him like a barrier against the world beyond and breathed. And remembered gentle hands holding him and rocking him as he hummed an old lullaby.

When the next thunder sounded, the little boy didn't react. He was deeply asleep...