Hate You

Villages are vulnerable when the darkness comes, but this one is fortunate enough to have a protector. Things have been going well for a while, but when his biggest mistake leaves the golem at the mercy of the mobs... well, he finds out they aren't quite as bad as he thought. "Remember how much I hate you!" Oneshot.

A/N: If I don't finish this, I'll throttle myself. HEAR THAT, SELF? I'LL THROTTLE YOU UNLESS YOU FINISH THIS! YEAH, YOU BETTER TYPE! Anyway, thanks to Z3RO-TH3-H3RO's story The Rose, I was inspired to write something in the typical Mellifluousness manner about iron golems and monsters, namely zombies. This was such fun to write. Rose greatly amuses me and Vines, too, was great fun. I'm rather fond of this, I must admit. This was originally titled Iron Menace, hence the thing the zombie says, but I changed it when I changed the way this little scenario played out. I quite like how it's ended up. Enjoy my second completed oneshot!

The gentle fingers of night caressed the landscape, poking into every nook and cranny, running over every mountaintop and calming the water in each pond, river and lake. They softly drew the stars from their hiding places and coaxed the moon into venturing above the horizon, quieting the sun with a hushed 'goodnight'. The land sung itself a quiet lullaby as it settled, everything warm and soft and silent.

But only for a moment.

Hear a gurgling growl, on its heels a sharp screech. See a constellation of eyes flick open, crimson, vibrant and menacing. Bones clanked in the dark as shadowy figures, bright-eyed and baleful, stole from their hiding places and slunk towards the soft lights of a slumbering village on the plains. The crescent moon itself seemed fearful of them and dimmed its light but the village dreamt on, heedless to the coming danger.

Focus on one particular silhouette that slips from behind a hill to the back of a building, cautious and rightly so. As it dashes through a patch of moonlight, see its face; hair greenish-brown, ragged and tousled, one eye socket empty and the other with a pale red iris. Part of its upper lip appeared burnt away, showing sharp white teeth, and its skin was dark green. It blinked its remaining eye once in the sudden brightness before slipping back into the shadows and onto the gravel street, past a cobblestone tower and heading for a large, torchlit house.

Crouching, it pressed a slightly rotten ear to the wall for a moment before seeming to reach a decision and standing up again. Without further ado, it aligned itself with the door, took a few steps back ando ¦ BAM! It slammed into the door with its shoulder, rubbing the thing once to ease the slight pain before BAM! It did it again. And again o BAM-BAM! It managed to clip the door with its heel that time. There came whimpers and cries from inside, but that just excited it further. BAM! BAM-BAM! BAM! Grunting with annoyance at the door's sturdiness, it raised a fist to bash at it againo ¦ and found its wrist seized by thick, strong fingers. It hadn't time to look up before it was hefted into the air and flung into the wall of the house opposite, falling to the gravel as something cracked sickeningly. The villagers inside the houses cheered as they saw the hulking form of their iron golem pass their doors and the zombie scrambled to its feet, mouth forming an O of horror at the sight of the thing. With an almighty CRASH the golem's long arm struck the wall where the zombie's head had been only moments before, but the undead man was already sprinting down the street, barking a warning to the other mobs as the golem came rumbling after it. The other monsters scattered at the sight of the village's protector, save for one brave creeper that made a vain effort to blow it to smithereens. The golem had eyes for only one beast, however; the zombie that had been foolish enough to attack a house in the great construct's vicinity.

Out of the village and onto the plains the zombie was chased, always just out of reach of the golem's long arms until suddenly there was a small hole in the way and the zombie sprang, soaring over the pit and landing gracefully on the other side with a soft crunch-cruncho ¦

SPLOOSH!

Surprised, the zombie peered over the edge of the pit to see water in the bottom of it, four blocks deep in the centreo ¦ and a very annoyed iron golem immersed in it. The zombie burst out laughing.

"You fell for it! Literally! I can't believe you actually fell for it! Look at you down there. Aww, is the poor wittle iron go-wem stuck in the water? Poor wittle iron go-wem!" he cackled condescendingly and the golem growled, bubbles rising to the surface and its deep voice muffled by the water.

"Get me out of here right now, zombie, or I will crush you into a bloody pulp," it rumbled threateningly. The zombie laughed again.

"Not a chance, mate! You'll crush me into a bloody pulp anyway," he pointed out.

"GET. ME. OUT." The zombie just laughed, noticing a creeper trotting past just under a chunk away.

"Hey, Creeper! Come look at this!" he called, waving it over. Cocking its head in curiosity, it obliged. "The golem's fallen in this pool," the zombie explained with a chuckle.

"Ssserioussly?" the creeper asked, a slight hiss to its voice that it grimaced at before peering over the lip of the pit. It gave a rasping, bark-ish laugh when it saw the stuck golem.

"It is not funny, beast!" the golem snapped, growing in fury. "Get me out of here right now or you'll not live to see the dawn!"

"I'd have to refuse," the creeper sniggered. "I think I can quite happily ssssit here and watch you russst 'till dawno ¦ after I tell all the mobss that you're out of the way!" The golem's jaw dropped open.

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me," hissed the creeper. The zombie burst into laughter again.

"Go on, do it!" he urged, still in hysterics. "That'll show the iron menace!"

"DON'T. YOU. DARE."

"Aw, maybe we should humour the poor disssadvantaged mob-slayer on the sssingle night when he is powerlesss to sstop uss from eating his villagersss." The creeper cocked her head in mock contemplation for a moment. "Oh wait, let'sss not. Enjoy your night, Zombie, Golem," she hissed, turning around and setting off for the village. The golem thrashed and twisted in the hope of breaking free from its watery bonds, but it was all in vain. It was too heavy to do so much as lift a leg.

"You cold, heartless creatures," it snarled, looking up at the zombie with rage on its face. He cocked his head. "You do nothing but kill and kill and the screams of the ones I love sustain you. You don't care anything for their lives."

"She won't, you know," the zombie replied coldly. The golem looked at him, not understanding. "She won't tell. We're not so cruel as to kill them in cold blood. And even if she does tell, you'll never know. And it's not the screams, it's the flesh and blood and guts and stuff. We have to eat too, you know."

The golem was a little stumped by this. "You can't deny that you take pleasure in their pain," it retorted a little hesitantly. The zombie thought for a moment.

"Nah. I don't think I can. We were here first, you know, along with the grass and the hills and the pigs. They're the ones who are stealing our land; we're defending what's ours."

"Your methods require some rethinking, though," the golem commented wryly. The zombie nodded and gave a little laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so. We're not the most successful, especially when it comes to golems like you."

"I know that from experience." The construct's face twitched for a moment into what may have been a smile. The zombie was a little taken aback by this and there was a momentary pause during which he found himself now sitting cross-legged on the lip of the pool.

"So, uh," the zombie began again, "Why do you like those villages so much? The nosy-things are really weird."

"They're called testificates," the golem corrected, a little annoyed. "They are amazing people and always so nice to my kind; I cannot imagine life without them. Why do you hate them so?" it countered. The zombie was beginning to think of it as a 'he'.

"The land thing," he answered, "And there's the fact that they're prey and I'm a predator; if they weren't so tasty, I wouldn't eat them. I think they're cowards, too, hiding behind thick walls and iron golems, too afraid to come out and face us." The golem huffed thoughtfully.

"They are defenceless. They cannot hope to defeat your kind in battle."

"Then they should learn how to!" the zombie cried. "I mean, you've heard the stories of those great big Minecrafters, right? Big burly things that carry sharp things made from iron and can jump huge distances and travel between dimensions and stuff. Why can't your testificates learn to do that?"

"Minecrafters are a different species," the golem rumbled. "Testificates can no less learn to make sharp things from iron than creepers can learn to grow arms."

"Making things from iron isn't the same as growing new body parts," countered the zombie. "All your testificates need to do is figure it out!" The golem just growled in reply, not sure what to say to that.

"So you want them to be able to slaughter you?" he asked finally, grinning a bit. The zombie protested instantly and the golem chuckled.

"Look," the zombie began, but stopped. He sighed. "Look," he tried again, "It's just, well, I meano ¦ yeah," he finished lamely. "Y'know, I never knew you golems were really thinking types."

"I never would have guessed the conversation abilities of a zombie, myself," the golem replied. There was a moment's silence. "The testificates have names, you know," he informed his companion. The zombie stared at him in surprise. "Indeed. I hear them calling each other by their names every so often. It is very strange. I have always wanted a name, but never knew what to call myself," he admitted. The zombie was a little surprised; he had heard of names before o Minecrafters had them, according to legend o but he couldn't imagine anyone wanting one. Then again, now that he thought about it, the option of being called by anything other than 'Zombie' was surprisingly appealingo ¦

"Maybe we could name each other." The offer left his mouth before he could even think about it and he immediately regretted it. Why had he even suggested something so stupid? He waited for the golem's scorn, but it didn't come; the construct was looking thoughtful from its position below the water's surface.

"Yes. I would like that," it agreed finally. The zombie blinked its remaining eye in surprise.

"Oh, uho ¦ okayo ¦ uh, you go first," he suggested, not quite sure what to expect. The golem scrutinised him carefully for what felt like aeons. Finally he spoke.

"I will name you Rose."

"Rose?" the zombie cried. "What kind of a name is Rose?"

"I like roses. While they are sharp, they are also good inside. You are the same," he informed him.

"Buto ¦ buto ¦" the zombie sighed, giving up. "Fine. I'mo ¦ Rose," he spat. The golem laughed at his reaction.

"Now it is your turn. You must name me."

Rose glared at him, scouring the golem's face and burly body for something dorky to name him after. After what felt like forever again, he reached a realisation and grinned.

"Your name is Vines, because you're annoying and get in the way, but a vital part of where you grow and a nice decoration. You've also got them on you," stated Rose triumphantly. The golem's twitchy smile returned.

"Well, Rose, it's nice to meet you. My name is Vines."

"Nice to meet you," the zombie joked, lying flat on his stomach and reaching down a slightly burnt hand for the golem to shake. Raising with some difficulty his arm above the water, Vines encased the smaller creature's hand in his thick iron fingers and they shared a firm handshake. The zombie decided then what he had to do. "Hold on," he warned, grabbing onto the golem's arm with his other hand and bracing himself against the lip of the pit. Realising his intentions, Vines swung his other arm up to grasp the dirt and slowly, so slowly that Rose thought his arms would rip right off, the golem was hauled from the water and onto the grass, dark liquid pouring off his smooth body in rivulets. He towered a massive three blocks in the air and Rose, who had fallen backwards in the effort to get the golem out, leapt to his feet and unconsciously tried to make himself seem bigger.

"Thank you for your help, Rose," the golem said amiably. Rose opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as huge fingers clamped around his throat and hefted him into the air so he was eye level with the great construct. "I don't want to kill you anymore," Vines rumbled, "But I don't want you here, either. Get out of here and do not come back or I will make sure you get an incredible view of the sunrise. Our chat has been interesting; it was nice knowing you, Rose," the golem added, dropping him almost gently and turning around to stomp back towards the village. The zombie stared after him for a moment, holding his throat, before he worked up the courage to say something.

"Yeah, well, I was thinking of moving anyway!" he called. The golem chuckled, not turning around.

"Sure you were, Rose," he replied in his deep voice, nearing the buildings. Rose felt he had to say something more before it was too late, but had no idea what to say. Finally it came to him.

"Remember how much I hate you!"

"Not at all, my friend!" the golem shot back. "I don't hate you at all!" With that, he was gone from sight.