-

At one point, I found a bastion. Seen a bunch of them before, of course. I'm not new to this place. Most of the piglins didn't bother me, especially once I took out the brutes with lava so they didn't get mad at me. I wasn't there to steal their gold, just looking for food. I wasn't going to steal it, no, but held up a mushroom, just to see if they might understand.

The piglin near me looked confused. I couldn't understand their grunts, of course. Not then, anyway. Perhaps he thought I was a very strange pig to want to eat mushrooms. But then he gestured to my helmet and tapped it, as if testing it. He shook his head, and grabbed my arm, taking me to his friends.

"I made it," I said, hoping they would understand. "Not very well, though."

My helmet proved quite the amusement for them, though, until one piglin took hold of it, gave it a good look, and then walked away with it. I had been given another helmet at this point, possibly because they felt sorry for me wearing such a terrible piece of kit.

They took me further into the bastion then, where some of the other piglins were sitting down to eat around a blazing fire. Hoglin was on the menu, slowly roasting in the flames. I was offered a seat, and I sat down, glad they seemed to understand.

They talked. Laughed. I wasn't really able to follow much of their conversation. I showed them some of the things I'd found, but they were especially interested in my gold. I felt it only fair if they were repairing my helmet for me. I got some nether quartz, blackstone, fire resistance potions, all kinds of things just for the gold I had managed to collect. I must admit I didn't know at the time that they would trade gold, but I am glad they do.

-

I stayed at the bastion. I know, it sounds crazy, but they took care of me. Gave me food. They could see I had better tools for mining even if they weren't of a material they preferred. Slowly, I was picking up words, too. I hadn't expected them to have language, but they did. The piglin who'd taken my helmet had been teaching me how to forge. He hadn't repaired mine, but instead wanted me to fix it. So I could learn. I'd made it so badly they clearly thought I didn't know how to make it at all.

I found it very peaceful, actually. Of course, I could go to the overworld, and once they realised that, sent me on expeditions for them. I had fixed my helmet by then, but they were more interested in overworld gold, as there was more of it there. They just couldn't survive out there so having me around meant they could get access to it. I found a mesa and brought them back armfuls of gold.

The delight on their faces though! It wasn't just the amount, but the quality, too. They were very impressed at my smelting techniques by now. I was able to make gold ingots to piglin quality standards, and that made me very happy.

-

By now, I had a little house in the overworld, right by the portal that lead to my bastion home. I needed a base camp for all the materials I was gathering, and sometimes I just needed to see the sky. I wished they could see this with me the way I could see their home. But they were scared of the portal, and they would zombify if they went through. The overworld was not for them.

I was speaking fluent piglin by now, though. Something about these piglins just made me stay with them. I helped them rebuild their bastion. Get rid of the holes in the floor and the broken walls and such. They could forge the armour, but I could build. And we made the most glorious bastion.

I was still working on my forging, though. I wanted to make them proud. That I hadn't wasted all my time there, and had learned nothing of their immense skill in creating such beautiful pieces of armour. Because you don't really spend enough time admiring their skill, do you? Not normally, anyway. You see gold, and go the other way. Least I used to, of course. Not any more.

The brutes, of course, will never like me, but they explained it was part of their culture. The brutes kept them safe. The most I got was that I was not immediately attacked on sight, and the other piglins perhaps distracting them long enough for me to get past. I didn't want to kill them if I could avoid it.

-

It felt weird to call the nether home, but that's what it was. I had a stable of striders now, in their own lava-filled pen, and I'd taught the piglins to ride them. In return, I joined them on hoglin hunts and danced and sang with them when we succeeded, bringing back good food for the rest of the group.

And yet the forging remained. I was... I could make things, much better this time, but not to their quality. Not yet, anyway. I was still lacking something. I was working on a chestplate this time, and I had the main basic shape in place. I wanted to make some intricate carvings into it, some light decoration, but it wasn't working out somehow. My teacher was trying his best, but somehow it wasn't clicking.

I returned to that chestplate for days. Weeks, even. Time is hard to keep in the nether. It could have been hours. Doing test pieces and trying patterns and shapes and trying to master the tools I'd been given.

It just wasn't working.

I decided to return to the overworld, go on another gold expedition. I needed some time away from the nether to get my head clear. Obsessing over one piece of armour wasn't helping me get better at it.

-

Villages are always happy places to find. I found one in a spruce forest, and there was a blacksmith there, hanging out a chestpiece she'd made. Really nice carvings on it. I complimented him on her work, and asked if she had any advice as I was trying to learn the same techniques. She seemed delighted to be asked, and we spent the afternoon practicing.

The tools worked different on iron. The iron was strengthened, harder, it took more effort to carve into. Gold was so soft to work with, it was easy to make a mistake. The piece could get so scratched up just by forging it. The polishing took forever.

What she did do, though, was make a small adjustment to my tools. She changed the shape of the blades, and the handles, so they would work better. And she was right. I had a better grip, and the blades worked a lot better.

After another week perfecting my techniques, I was ready to return to the nether, and to my chestpiece.

-

The piglins had missed me, but I came bearing gold, and I was glad to offer it to them. They, of course, showered me in gifts, which I always felt was more than I deserved but I wasn't going to turn them down. I had my own room in the bastion now, where I kept all the trades I'd got from my gold. I was no piglin myself, just someone they liked, but that was enough for me.

I went back to my chestplate, and this time, it all came together.

-

Instead of pity, which I got when I first arrived, when I presented my chestplate to them, their eyes just lit up with joy, and they cheered. They all wanted to see it, inspect it, make sure I'd done as good a job as they would have done.

I knew I was on to a winner when one put it on with care, trying it out. And there were so many cheers of approval. In fact, I never got it back. That piglin wore my work with pride, and I think that's when I felt I'd finally earned my place.