Minecraft - A Novel - The Journey Begins

Chapter 8 - The village

Peter's vision was blurry. Where was he? He rubbed his eyes, yawning. 

He looked down at himself. He was curled up in a bed, rather comfortably. Peter could not set things straight, and his thoughts were in extreme disorder.

He heard singing, very faint, but it still rung softly in his ears. Who was it that sang? 

Peter touched his forhead. A giant lump had formed since someone knocked him out. Wait, someone knocked me out! Peter thought. He jumped up in fear. 

Many thoughts suddenly came to his mind. Herobrine, the minecart, his father. The thoughts rushed to his head as quick as lightning. He stood up. 

The singing got louder. And louder. And louder. It wouldn't stop. The noise rung in his ears again and agaiin, but it was not laughing like his nightnmares. It rung in his ears but they did not bleed. The noise ceased, and all was good.

A lamp flickered next to him, making the light dimmer. Peter narrowed his eyes. Where excatly was he? he looked outside a glass window. He say many blocks of farmland, and ... children?

Peter could not believe it. The sign was correct! IT brought him to a village. Other thoughts quickly plunged in as well. Why did he black out? Why couldnt he see the village before hand? Was it invisible or something? So many questions.

Peter got up, and his feet touched the wood floor. Trying to move as silently as possible, he tiptoed out of the room. "Hello?" he called out. 'Hello?' 

No answer. He walked straight, entering another room, presumed as the kitchen. The door out was just a few feet away.

Peter started walking toward the door when he heard humming, along with splashes of water. He looked to the left, and there by the sink, was a villager, washing dishes. 

"Excuse me sir," Peter said," Can you tell me where I am?"

There was no reply. The villager continued humming, and washing dishes. He acted as if he heard nothing.

Peter waited for a while, still thinking the villager may eventually give him an answer. After all, Peter had all the time he needed, and finding out where he was was very important.

THe villager took dish after dish, and as time went by, Peter grew very impatient. Thinking he was not going to get even a bit of a response, he started walking for the door. When he was only a block away from the door, the villager spoke. 

"Patience is key to being a great warrior" He swallowed. "All great warriors, despite their strength, or their magic, need patience" He then continued to wash dishes. There was one last dish, and after he washed it, it sparkled and shined.

Peter took a step back into the house. He pondered on the villager's words. Why would he say that? Peter thought.

After done washing dishes, the villager washed his hands, and patted them against a dry towel. Peter watched him carefully, as he pulled a chair and sat in front of Peter.

"Hello Peter," he said. "How..." Peter interrupted. The villager put his hand up in the air, and Peter immediately stopped talking. The villager got up, and brought sandwiches on big, wooden plates. He took one, and pushed the other toward Peter's directions. 

He took a bite of his sandwich, and swallowed. "You must be hungry!" he said, "Take it. I made it myself!" He seemed to be very proud of himself. 

Peter took a bite. The sandwich did taste amazing. 

"Now, you are probably wondering where you are." "I already asked..." Peter interrupted again. The villager raised his hand again.

"Do not interrupt people" he said, now looking out the window, "It is very impolite." Peter nodded.

"We are in the village of lost travelers. Nobody can see us from the outside. To get inside, you must one, be a qualified villager yourself and brought here by someone already living here, or two, wander into one of our houses, hit a wall, and knock yourself out. 

"Sir, I didn't knock myself out. I'm sure. My bruise came from behind me, not in front. I think someone knocked me out.

The villager laughed. And why did that happen? Because you are a qualified villager! The person who knocked you out was me, and I'm sorry about the nasty little lump on your head."

"But how am I a qualified villager? I have never been here before!"

"Oh, but you have! You see, your father came here with your mother long ago, for your mother was pregnant, and need a place to have the baby. I found them, brought them into my house, and well, they had you! You see, you were born here. In this very house at that couch!" The villager pointed to a couch near them. He took another bite of his sandwich.

"My father never told me!" Peter said, "Come to think of it, he never really told me anything about himself." Peter's words slowed down and faltered.

"MY CRABNUGGETS! WHO WOULD BELIEVE IT?" the villager boomed.

"Sir?" Peter inquired.

"WHO WOULD HAVE KNOWN?" the villager continued, "THAT EVERYBODY KNOWS KING ROLFE'S ACHIEVEMENTS EXCEPT HIS VERY OWN SON!" He took a deep breath. "Sorry," he siad, softly," I didn't mean to scare you. It's just so wierd, after all."

"Wait." Peter said, now stunned, "Everybody knows my father?"

"It's more than that." said the villager, " From what you know, I think everybody knows your father more than you do! Look! King Alexander Rolfe!  Why did he become king? Was he some kind of warrior? Diid you ever think of that?'

"Of course!" Peter said, "But it's just..." he paused. "It's just that I never asked." 

"He never even loved me!" Peter shot back, eyes full of rage. "He never let me go out with the other children, or play outside. He shut me in, that's what he did. That's all he ever did."

"He loved you, all right" said the villager. " He loved you so much that he risked changing you! Can't you see? All this time, he has been protecting you!"

"Well, protecting me from what"?

"Herobrine."

The villager closed his mouth. Suddenly, everything was silent. The children outside seemed to move without sound. The birds singing seemed to stop. all was silent.

The villager broke the silence. "Your father was known for vanquishing Herobrine, and banishing him to the outskirts of the whole world. Herobrine lurked there, silently, but we all knew someday, he would come back, to take his revenge. We feared it, oh yes. And now, we know that day has happened. There can only be one explanation. Herobrine."

As if the word was a spell, everything fell silent again, at least to Peter. The villager seemed unaffected. He got up  from the chair, took a large bite of his andwich, and went to the sink. "GO to bed" he said." Good night!" 

Peter was just walking to the bed he came from before the conversation when the villager stopped him. "War's the worse thing in this world. I'm sorry about your father."

He walked away, and Peter stared. 

"By the way" he said, "The name's Frank."

"Good night, Frank" Peter said, " Thank you."

"Good night Peter, he answered, "It's my pleasure."