Grian stared up at what could only be considered the most perfect boulder he'd ever seen. It was giant, it was stunning in a completely bouldery way, and it was right at spawn. It was a perfect boulder, and he was going to carve it out for a shop. He whistled as he spun his hand, his pickaxe twirling out of his inventory and into his palm.
He spun it once in the air and caught it, gripping it with both hands as he drew his arms back. Oh yes, this would be the perfect boulder to use for a shop. When he hit it, the sound was loud and the impact shook through his entire body. It barely chipped it at all, only leaving a little scuff mark on the stone. A stubborn boulder.
“I’ll have you know, I’m almost certainly more stubborn than you.” He laughed as he hit the boulder again, and again. He would definitely be here for a long time, but that’s fine. It was a fun way to pass the time.
He whistled and hummed, chirped and even sang a little as he worked throughout the day. Different hermits would wave as they passed by, or if he caught their eye from a distance, and he would wave back with a wing.
The boulder rang with each hit and he found himself having to wipe his face far more frequently after several hours. This was a much tougher boulder than he had expected, half the day and he had barely made a crack. Any logical person would give up by now. Someone with some sense would wander off and find an easier boulder.
So, obviously, Grian rolled up his sleeves and kept chipping at it instead.
“That’s a nice boulder,” A voice came from behind Grian. As he turned around, he saw that the source was none other than Zedaph.
“Thanks!” Grian smiled and stopped swinging, leaving the pickaxe to rest in his palms and on the boulder, “It’s really the perfect boulder, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin a bit as he leaned to the side to look past Grian, “Not really.” He gestured backwards with his thumb, “I think my boulder wins that title.”
“A fellow boulder enthusiast. Unfortunately, one with bad taste.” He laughed, “Have you managed to crack into it yet?”
“Oh, yeah, I broke in an hour ago. I was just relaxing when I noticed you over here, had to check out your boulder.”
“See? Obviously, that means your boulder isn’t perfect.” Grian nodded to himself and looked back at his boulder, “Mine’s real strong, I’ve barely made any damage to it. A perfect boulder, really.”
“If you insist.” Zedaph shook his head, “I’ll leave you to it then, wouldn’t want to get in the way of a man and his boulder for too long.”
With that, Zedaph had left, and Grian kept up his work with a hum.
He’d gotten a nice rhythm going at this point, and he was a good way inside. Not to the center yet, obviously, but he could wedge his entire body into the stone now. He wasn’t sure if this boulder was even hollow, but he hoped it was.
A thumping filled his ears in time with the metallic ring of his pickaxe hitting the stone, his breathing timed with it just as much. It was like a song, in a way. Which was nice, because he was too tired to try to sing his own songs now.
Maybe he should’ve made his little tunnel a bit wider, swinging was a bit rough. His wings had to be tucked in very close. He let out a tired huff as he lowered the pickaxe to take a breather. It was getting late, the sun was going down. He should go and rest, then he could keep working tomorrow. Surely, everyone would be wondering why he was still out here if he didn’t.
As he wiped his forehead for what had to be the millionth time of the day, something dawned on him. His breathing had calmed and the metallic clangs of metal on stone weren’t filling his ears, but it was not silent. He could still hear the thumping that he’d just taken as his own heartbeat lining up with his work.
It still came as he froze, and as he stood in the path he’d made, it sounded almost as if it was coming from all around him. Slowly, he pressed his ear to the wall to his right side and held his breath. The sound kept thrumming on.
He would just take an extra long rest day tomorrow, because there was no way he could stop breaking into it right now. No, what if someone else decided to take his boulder while he slept? He had to keep digging.
So, Grian stood up as straight as he could, and kept working. He hummed in time with the thumping now, no longer trying to keep the tune centered on his pickaxe. He was tired, but the need to get in was too strong to ignore.
It is late. The sun is gone and Grian is no longer humming as he works, far too tired to try to focus on a tune. Nothing but the sound of the pickaxe and the thrumming filled his ears. If it weren’t for the thumping, he would’ve been certain that this boulder was completely solid, but even he knew that a solid boulder wouldn’t make that sound. It had to be hollow.
He kept chipping and chipping, and as he went, he realized bigger pieces were finally coming free from it, no longer small shards. It excited him, made him grin, he had to be getting to the center, he KNEW that it was hollow inside. He was right! He was right and now he would have the perfect boulder all to himself.
There was a loud crack with his next swing, then…then…
The second swing did not make the pickaxe shake his arms, and it did not come with a metallic ring like all of the other hits he’d done for the past day. It didn’t bounce back, and it landed with a squelch. Slowly, he raised the pickaxe up again and watched as red liquid dripped from it.
The thumping came louder from the small hole he’d made and it completely engulfed his hearing at this point. He swung again, and again, and again, making the opening bigger and the sounds louder. Red, red, red. He took a shaky breath as he stumbled and fell forward, entering the chamber he’d finally reached.
It wasn’t solid inside, he was right. He’d dropped his pickaxe, palms pressed against the squishy surface below him, the feeling of the warm liquid coating it was heard to ignore. He looked up as the thumping completely surrounded him. He was in flesh, the boulder had flesh.
Slowly, he stood up, wiping the blood on his jumper as he did. He couldn’t help but hum along with the heartbeat he had walked himself into. He picked up his pickaxe slowly.
Yes, he had found the perfect boulder.
Mumbo and Scar stood near the giant boulder that they had found Grian laying next to, fast asleep despite the fact that it was nearly noon. He was curled up, and missing his usual outfit, it wasn’t every day you saw Grian actually sleeping in pajamas.
“He really spent an entire day trying to get into that thing?” Mumbo looked at Scar and furrowed his eyebrows.
Scar shrugged with a laugh, “Well, you know boys and their boulders.”
He just shrugged again and Mumbo rolled his eyes. The two laughed as they walked away, making bets on whether Grian would just wake up on his own or get woken up by another Hermit taking the free opportunity to prank the guy. Scar suggested the idea of coming back and drawing on his face if he was still asleep in an hour.
So I just started watching Season 8 of Hermitcraft, FINALLY!!! I’ve been looking forward to this for MONTHS! And somehow, amidst all the little things I managed to spoil for myself regarding this season, I was somehow under the impression that it was Grian who named Boatem. But no, it was Mumbo who put the first boat down, Scar who continued it, Mumbo who first called it a ‘totem’ and - again- Mumbo who actually came up with the name Boatem Pole. Since watching S7 and seeing Hermit Challenges and everything that came with it, I’ve learned that Mumbo Jumbo is a much sillier man than I ever thought before. Legendary.
I’m watching Scar’s first episode, and he’s visiting Bdubs, and I’m CACKLING because like
Bdubs: “I’m making a - a moon base.”
Scar: “Ohhh, a moon base!”
Bdubs: “Yeah. Not on the moon. Moon down here.”
Scar: “Like the moon crashed on the planet!”
THESE FUCKERS KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING I SWEAR TO GOD