Chapter 1: Questionable Sword Statistics
Chapter Text
Link dreamed he stood in a vast, green field hemmed in by tall trees. He walked slowly through the strange place, marvelling at orange and white mushrooms so gigantic that they could have passed for trees. Each step he took carried that floating quality that only came with lucid dreams, and it could have been peaceful indeed but for that familiar sense of growing dread.
All of a sudden, the earth cracked apart before his feet, dark smoke rising from the fissure. Link stumbled back, fighting for his footing as the gap opened wider and wider until it spat out a towering monster of gleaming black scales and long, vicious teeth. The beast roared and gnashed at its surroundings, shaking the air with the sheer force of its voice. Link recoiled, instinctively closing his eyes and shielding his face. Several terrified moments passed until he cautiously cracked his lids open, peering towards the light blooming from above. A slender form hovered there, silhouetted against the sky.
Rise, Link… a strange voice bade him. You are fated to have a hand in a great destiny, and it will soon find you… the time has come for you to awaken… Link…
At about that point, a distinctly avian tone pierced through the air, dragging Link kicking and screaming (as always) into consciousness.
He was on the floor when he woke. Logically speaking, that was probably because he’d fallen out of bed. Zelda’s loftwing – usual culprit of making Link wake on the floor – gave a polite and precise ten second pause before spitting an envelope at his face and ducking out of his window.
Link sighed.
Rising reluctantly to his feet, he flicked the envelope open and began to read. His slight pout slipped into a wry smile as he made his way through Zelda’s letter.
‘Alright, fine,’ he informed the piece of paper, as he folded it and placed it in his drawer with the others, ‘I’m on my way.’
A loud, distinctly jazzy sound carried through the air as Link approached the meeting place. He almost didn’t recognise the familiar Skyloftian hymn, played up tempo and generously decorated with improvisations. He heard Zelda an entire minute or two before he saw her, but as he reached the top of the wooden stairway, there she was at last: throwing her heart, soul and hips into a solo rendition of the Ballad of the Goddess, played on some unfamiliar brass instrument that looked heavy enough to double as a bludgeoning weapon.
Unwilling to interrupt, he silenced his footsteps as he walked closer, lips curving up in a smile at the sight of Zelda’s passionate performance. Despite his efforts, he was about five metres away when her song halted. She lowered her instrument and turned to face him, tilting her pink-rimmed sunglasses up so that their eyes could meet.
‘Good morning, Link,’ she greeted with a bright grin. ‘I’m glad to see my loftwing got you out of bed. I was pretty sure you’d sleep in and forget to meet me this morning.’
Wow, thought Link. Rude. He’d only done that once or twice at most.
‘But look at this instrument!’ she continued cheerfully. ‘And look at this outfit! They’re mine to use today in the ceremony, since I’ll be playing the role of the goddess. Aren’t they beautiful? Especially this instrument! They tell me it’s just like the one the goddess was said to have in the legends. I asked Father about it, and he says it’s called a saxophone.’
Link marvelled at the instrument and all its tiny, intricate brass components. It certainly looked complicated. ‘What do all those buttons do, anyway?’ he asked, poking one of the little levers for emphasis.
‘“Do”? Oh, you hold them while you blow through the mouthpiece – just like the tone holes of an ocarina. It’s not so different.’
Link compared the mental image of a small ceramic instrument with that of the object Zelda called a “saxophone”. ‘Seems a little different,’ he remarked dubiously. ‘Was it difficult to learn?’
‘Of course not,’ Zelda said confidently. ‘Music’s all about the mindset. I mean, it did take me a few tries to get the embouchure right –’ (the what now? thought Link) ‘– and there were a few issues with finding a suitable reed –’ (had Zelda gone swimming in the river without him?) ‘– but Father gave me a few pointers, and we worked it out within a couple of hours.’
That seemed vaguely implausible. ‘Better you than me,’ concluded Link.
Zelda gave him a disappointed look. ‘C’mon, Link. A little bit of hard work never killed anyone. You could try it sometimes.’
That stung, just a little. He smiled nonetheless, and joked, ‘Me? I’m always working hard! You’re looking at a nap champion over here.’
Zelda scowled. ‘Oh, very impressive. I’m sure that skill will come in handy during the race today.’
‘Who knows? It might,’ Link drawled.
Zelda’s harsh look softened slightly, brows knitting in concern rather than annoyance. She hesitated, then opened her mouth to speak.
‘Ah – there you are Zelda,’ a new voice called, sparing both of them from whatever Zelda had been about to say. Link stepped back, allowing the approaching headmaster to take the attention from him. With Zelda thankfully preoccupied, he turned his head to the side and stifled another yawn.
It really was far too early for that “mortifying ordeal of being perceived” nonsense, he decided wearily.
The rest of the morning passed in similar fashion.
Somewhere between being almost falling to his death, almost being clawed to death by a keese and then sneaking in a quick cup of extra strong tea spiked with stamina potion, Link managed to wake the rest of the way up in time to cruise into an easy victory in the Wing Ceremony, micro-nap included. And perhaps it was poor sportsmanship to flip Groose off on the way back, but in his defence: fuck that guy.
Whooping in victory, Link held the statuette high above his head as he flew back to Skyloft, leaving bully and bully minions alike in his metaphorical dust.
‘Link!’ called a familiar voice. He looked up to see Zelda leaning over the edge of a landing dock, waving cheerily at him. He grinned and waved back, which Zelda seemed to interpret as a cue to –
Cursing under his breath, Link spurred his loftwing on, barely managing to catch Zelda as she plummeted off the side of the island with an oversized off-brand clarinet clutched firmly between her hands. His loftwing screeched in protest, losing at least two metres of altitude and nearly knocking both riders off its back. A few moments later, Link slowly uncurled from his hunched position, rubbing his bruised head, and looked at Zelda.
‘Don’t worry; I’m fine,’ she informed him brightly.
That hadn’t exactly been the question on Link’s mind, but he granted her an approving thumbs-up nonetheless. With Zelda’s own loftwing trailing despondently behind them, they continued on their way back to the goddess statue.
‘Link.’ Zelda turned to him with a smile. ‘Hand me that bird statuette you grabbed in the race. I must offer it to the goddess.’
Link passed the statuette to Zelda, who reverently slotted it into place on the altar. She bowed her head briefly in silent prayer, then donned her sunglasses, lifted her saxophone and drew a breath.
Her fingers flew over the keys, powerful lungs working hard to produce a rich, soulful tone. Link wasn’t entirely sure the hip thrusts were necessary, but – no, who was he kidding: they were definitely necessary. And deeply appreciated.
All too soon, it was over. ‘Valiant youth who grasped victory at the celebration of the bird folk,’ Zelda intoned solemnly. ‘In accordance with the old ways, I now bestow the blessings of the goddess upon you.’ She reached behind her and untied the cloth wrapped around her shoulders, holding it out towards Link. ‘The blessings of the goddess drift down from the heavens aloft a sail, which I now pass on to you.’
There was only one possible response: Link held the folded cloth triumphantly above his head, singing a victory trill. It was about that point that he noticed just how nice it smelled. He held it to his face and took a generous sniff.
‘Wow, Zelda – is this perfumed or something?’ he asked.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Link! Quit goofing. This is supposed to be a sacred ritual, remember?’
Oh, right.
For the second time that day, Zelda proceeded to shove him off a ledge. Thankfully, he once again did not plummet to his death, instead gracefully faceplanting within the tiled target circle due to belated use of his new sailcloth.
Zelda seemed impressed, at least. ‘That was perfect!’ she praised as she and her loftwing fluttered down beside him. ‘You’re amazing, Link!’ Her expression turned shy. ‘You know, Link. Seeing as how you won today… and with the weather being so nice… you think maybe you'd like to, you know, go fly around the clouds together?’
That same strange voice called to him, but this time he was floating through the air. No, not floating – falling. Zelda was right below, reaching out to him with her hair billowing in a chaotic cloud around her face and golden saxophone straining against the strap across her chest. He reached frantically for her outstretched hand, but closed on nothing but air. Beneath them both, the maw of the beast opened wide, and –
Link jerked upright, panting desperately.
‘Ah. You’re awake.’
And there was Headmaster Gaepora, right by his side.
Link shuddered, grinding his palms into his eyes as if that could erase the vision. But it wasn’t just a vision this time, was it? Zelda had really –
‘When your loftwing carried you back, you were limp and unconscious,’ the headmaster explained quietly. ‘I feared the worst. Fortunately, you don’t appear to have any serious injuries. For that much we can be grateful. But, Link…’
He hesitated for a long moment before asking the very question that Link had been dreading: ‘What’s happened to my daughter?’
So, it was true, then.
Zelda really was missing.
Link took a few steadying breaths, pushed the panic back and did his best to explain what he’d seen: that strange black tornado that had appeared out of nowhere, the way Zelda had tumbled out of sight, screaming all the way, that he’d tried to follow, tried to catch her, but he’d been too slow, too weak, and –
‘Easy, Link, easy,’ the Headmaster soothed, gently but firmly easing Link back down into bed the moment he tried to rise. ‘You must not push yourself. You’re still recovering.’
‘I’m fine,’ Link said tightly. ‘Zelda’s the one who –’
‘Hush, now,’ the Headmaster said firmly. ‘I’m concerned about Zelda, but so long as she’s with her loftwing, I’m sure she’ll be fine.’
There were plenty of other words said as Zelda’s father smoothed his hair down and tucked the covers around him with far more gentleness than he deserved. Link heard little of it over the raging recrimination in his head, echoed by the frantic rhythm of his heart and lungs. When the headmaster finally kissed him on the forehead and pulled away, Link felt an insane urge to grab hold and pull him back. He forced that urge down, teeth gritting and hands curling into fists beneath the covers. All too soon, the door clicked shut and he was left alone in the darkness with no further excuses against the prickling at his eyes.
When the tears finally stopped, sleep refused to follow. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, but he was certain, somehow, that he was entirely awake when that strange voice from his dreams began to call to him, echoing from the doorway of his very real and mundane dormitory room.
He lifted himself out of bed, wobbling from residual dizziness. When the voice called out yet again, he quickly tugged his boots on, grabbed the dull practice sword he was yet to return, and headed outside.
It was still dark inside the academy. A light source to the right immediately caught his attention, and he turned to inspect the glowing blue and green figure that hovered above the stairs. The moment he stepped forward, they shifted backwards, halting the very moment he did and hovering patiently in place. Clearly, he was expected to follow.
Well, that was fine. That was even great. Link’s feet were getting itchy, anyway.
The figure led him out towards the Isle of the Goddess, pausing briefly at the locked grate before shifting off to the right instead, eschewing the neat wooden stairs in favour of a sheer drop with only vines to hold Link’s weight, followed by several narrow ledges to edge his way across and a few dangerous jumps from floating sky island to island. It wasn’t exactly easy going, especially with several large bruises across his body still screaming at him, but he made do and soon arrived at the base of the great goddess statue.
The glowing figure paused briefly, then drifted right through the solid stone wall at the front of the statue. As Link approached, that solid stone wall simply faded away, as if it had never been there at all.
Deciding not to question this one new portion of strangeness atop all of the others, Link hurried forward, following the mysterious figure into the statue’s unknown interior. He emerged from a short, dark passageway into a wide stone chamber lit by ornate braziers topped with roaring arcane flame. At the centre of the chamber was an altar bearing a gleaming blade. Link was given a few brief moments to admire the display before the gentle blue light sharpened and the figure from before leapt free, twisting and landing in a crouch before him.
An expressionless blue face tilted up towards his. ‘The one chosen by my creator,’ they intoned. ‘I have been waiting for you. You will play a role in a great destiny.’
Lost for words, Link could do little more than stare. The figure tilted their head curiously for a moment, then added, ‘According to your social customs, I should provide you with my personal designation. Fi is the name I was given. My pronouns are she/her. I was created for a single purpose, long before the recorded memory of your people. I must aid you in fulfilling the great destiny that is your burden to carry.’
That… did not exactly sound promising. Thankfully, Fi quickly followed with a far more favourable set of words: ‘The one you seek, honourable Zelda, is still alive.’
With that alone, Link felt a weight fall from his shoulders. He let out a relieved laugh, barely even taking note of the advice that followed. Oh, right – the sword. Fi wanted him to pick it up. He could do that. Sure.
On Fi’s request – and as was only logical upon attaining a new item – Link lifted the sword above his head and paused to marvel at its bright, blue sheen. Shiny!
‘Recognition complete,’ Fi announced quietly. ‘Master… Link. My master…’
Link eyed the impassive figure, wondering what exactly that odd tone meant. ‘This was your idea,’ he reminded her slightly sourly. ‘No need to sound so disappointed.’
Fi quirked her head at his words, but before she could reply, another voice cut in.
‘Link!’
The two them turned. Headmaster Gaepora approached quickly, hands reaching automatically towards Link before dropping to his sides with a quick intake of breath as his eyes fixated on the blade in Link’s hand. ‘I’ve had my suspicions, but until now, I wasn’t sure,’ he said heavily, ‘yet here we are, in the Chamber of the Sword: the very place where it was foretold the youth of legend would one day appear.…’
And just like that: Link was off on his… quest. To the surface world. Which was overwhelming, really, in several ways.
The sheer scale of it, for one. He’d never really thought of Skyloft as being particularly small, but he’d also never existed in a place where you couldn’t climb to a reasonable vantage point and view the edges of the earth.
Then there was the whole weird thing where Link had technically already seen a generous portion of said lush greenery, albeit in the usual nightmares in which a monster erupted from the earth and tried to swallow him and/or his childhood friend and secret crush whole. Totally normal, nothing to worry about, completely fine.
Then there was Gorko the Goron with his tales of the mythical advanced civilisation living in the sky. Link could have stayed and listened for hours if he wasn’t on a mission. Though even with said mission, he couldn’t help but be oddly charmed by the Kikwi and their… ingenious camouflage.
But he had to draw the line somewhere.
‘Fi,’ he said as calmly as he could. ‘Why are these spiders gigantic?’
‘Target lock: skulltula,’ Fi replied obligingly. ‘This giant species of spider inhabits the deepest areas of forests. It attacks with highly adhesive webbing in order to prevent its prey from escaping. It has a tough outer carapace, but its stomach may be vulnerable to attack. I am currently conducting additional analysis into its movement patterns.’
‘Yes, but why is it gigantic?!’ whined Link.
‘The presence of various other similarly-sized specimens indicates an eighty-seven percent chance that this is a standard feature of the species rather than one or more individual cases of gigantism.’
‘But whyyyyy?!’ he wailed.
‘Commencing analysis.’
As Fi hummed away in his hand, Link continued to hack and slash haphazardly at the immense arachnids. It probably wasn’t the most efficient or effective way of fighting, but 1) gross, and 2) it wasn’t as if Instructor Eagus was there to judge.
Soon enough, the fight was over and the floor freshly painted with horrible purple spider ichor. Fi promptly chimed at him once again, ‘A report, Master Link.’
He startled. ‘Yes?!’
The sword spirit leapt free of the blade, hovering at his side. ‘At present, I lack sufficient data to form a conclusive theory as to the evolutionary patterns of this species, however I can posit several likely contributing factors,’ she explained. ‘First: as a general rule, there is a strong correlation between environmental temperature and average body size, with low temperatures – such as our current subterranean locale – linked to larger sizes compared to warmer ones. There is a weaker correlation between species size and other factors such as oxygen saturation levels, food scarcity and predation pressure, though for invertebrates in particular some of those factors may serve to counter the mechanical disadvantages of a large-scale exoskeleton, including the biological cost and physical vulnerability associated with moulting and the reduced efficiency of the open circulatory system contrasted with a closed alternative. The speed and agility observed in these skulltula unusually indicates a startlingly efficient muscular system, despite its size and the thickness and structural integrity of its carapace.
‘It is also intriguing to note that the blood pigmentation of the skulltula you have just slain is closer to haemerythrin, observed in certain rare marine invertebrates, than the haemocyanin typical of arachnids – or, indeed, the haemoglobin that most larger creatures possess. The colour match is not precise however, thus there is a chance that this species has evolved an entirely different means of oxygen capture and transport. I lack the necessary reference data to properly analyse the chemical make-up, but suffice to say that initial investigation suggests a genetic match of less than ninety percent between these skulltula and the Skyloftian house spider.’
Link frowned. That was… surprisingly interesting. ‘Ninety percent sounds like a lot,’ he remarked.
Fi inclined her head and noted, ‘For comparative purposes: there is an eighty-three percent genetic match between humans and remlits.’
‘Oh. That also sounds like a lot.’
‘Indeed. And while these skulltula show a great degree of similarity to smaller arachnid variants, it is fascinating to observe –’
Fi cut off abruptly and Link tensed. ‘What? Why did you stop?’ He quickly scanned his surroundings and came up short. ‘Fi?’
‘My apologies, Master Link,’ Fi replied. ‘It appears that, through the provision of superfluous information, I have distracted you from your quest to locate the spirit maiden, Zelda.’
‘Oh.’ Link deflated. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He rubbed his neck sheepishly. ‘Uh… no need to apologise, though. I’m… pretty easily distracted. “Ditzy”, Zelda calls it. It’s not your fault at all. Just that what you were saying was so interesting, and I… well…’
Fi hovered uncertainly for a few silent moments, then replied, ‘My apologies, Master Link. I will endeavour to adhere to the pertinent facts only from this point forwards.’
‘Huh? No, really, you don’t have to apolo–’
Without waiting for him to finish, the sword spirit shrank and vanished back into the blade.
Link sighed. ‘Fine. I guess,’ he concluded unhappily. Reluctantly, he wiped the sword clean and then sheathed it, continuing on his way.
With Fi’s words still fresh in mind, Link did his best not to get overly curious about the mechanics of how a fleshless, muscleless skeleton could move, let alone fight, and fought his hardest – losing a few battles, perhaps, but winning the war – to not be overcome by the sheer novelty of his new mechanical Beetle. Thankfully, the sound of a distant saxophone echoing through the large door at the back of the temple made it remarkably easy to focus on his goal. There was just one particularly potent distraction from there.
‘Look who it is,’ the cloaked figure began in a rich, musical tone. He turned to face Link, flicking gorgeous silver hair in his direction.
Oh, no.
‘I thought that tornado I stirred up would have tossed and torn you apart, yet here you are. Not in pieces.’ The stranger gave a deeply attractive smile. ‘Not that your life or death has any consequence. It’s just the girl that matters now, and I can sense her here… just beyond this door.’
Link jolted. ‘You mean Zelda?!’
The figure chuckled to himself. ‘Yes. We plucked Her Majesty from her perch in the clouds, and now she’s ours. Oh, but listen to me. I’m being positively uncivil. Allow me to introduce myself…’
Link gritted his teeth through Ghirahim’s introduction. So, he was the one responsible for snatching Zelda away, was he?
Without even thinking about it, Link tugged the Goddess Sword from its sheath, finally drawing Ghirahim’s attention.
‘Did you really just draw your sword?’ the self-proclaimed Demon Lord asked incredulously. ‘Foolish boy.’ He flicked his hair a few more times. ‘By all rights the girl should have fallen into our hands already. She was nearly ours when that loathsome servant of the goddess snatched her away. Do you have any idea how that made me feel inside?
‘Furious! Outraged! Sick with anger!’
All of a sudden, Ghirahim disappeared in a flurry of glittering diamonds.
‘This turn of events has left me with a strong appetite for bloodshed,’ his voice echoed sweetly. ‘Still… it hardly seems fair, being of my position, to take all of my anger out on you.’
And all of a sudden, Ghirahim was right up in Link’s space, breathing down the back of his neck. ‘Which is why I promise upfront not to murder you,’ he purred into Link’s ear. ‘No, I’ll just beat you within an inch of your life.’
One swordfight with an uncomfortably attractive, unitard-clad demon later, Link stumbled towards the door on the opposite side of the chamber, belatedly remembering to take a deep gulp of heart potion for the deep scratch running from his left shoulder down to his left elbow.
‘Fi,’ he called, during the brief moment of respite.
The sword spirit emerged. ‘Yes, Master?’
‘I think I might be bisexual,’ he revealed, ‘and I’m deeply unhappy about it.’
Fi hovered mutely for a few moments, perhaps contemplating this new insight. In the end, she replied, ‘Master, I would recommend proceeding through the door immediately ahead.’
‘Fi,’ said Link. ‘I’m having a crisis of sexual identity right now. Please help.’
‘Master Link,’ she replied, ‘there is only a thirty percent chance, at most, that your newly-recognised bisexuality represents a crisis. On this basis, I would recommend proceeding without further delay.’
Thirty percent seemed like quite a lot, really, Link couldn’t help but think. Three times the difference between a house spider and a skulltula, in fact. Presumably, Fi had her own reasons for that figure.
Just as Ghirahim had pointed out, the sound of the saxophone had long since faded. If Link had been paying more attention, he might have noticed that sooner. He gritted his teeth and continued onwards.
The dull, gloomy temple opened up to a surprisingly pleasant sunlit dais. A surprisingly pleasant sunlit dais notably lacking any visible trace of Link’s oldest friend.
His shoulders slumped. Where could she possibly have gone, he wondered? Other than the hallway he had entered from, the only possible exit Link could see involved a delicate scramble up sheer cliffs. Unlikely, especially if Zelda had taken the saxophone with her. To be safe, he drew his sword once again and activated Fi’s dowsing ability. No luck, of course.
‘Fi,’ he called wearily. ‘Any advice?’
The sword spirit emerged. ‘Master Link, I note the presence of a goddess crest ahead. There is a ninety-five percent chance it will react in some way to your Skyward Strike.’
He sighed. ‘Of course.’
Ignoring the part of him that wondered at the extra five percent of doubt (Fi’s analysis was starting to feel just a little arbitrary), Link charged up and released a blast of divine energy, earning himself a fancy new piece of the old stone tablet from Skyloft, along with a new set of instructions.
Back to the skies, he supposed.
Chapter 2: Tacit Emerging Sword Grudges
Summary:
Link reluctantly engages in various side quests. Link enthusiastically sows chaos. Link takes a nap. Zelda gets kidnapped by monsters. Link's anthropomorphised bisexual crisis returns. Zelda's saxophone makes a belated return to the fic it was supposed to star in. Nobody likes Impa.
Chapter Text
As directed, Link returned to Skyloft and slotted the ruby tablet into place, opening up a new passageway between sky and surface worlds. It was only once he headed back outside, intent on diving right back down to that strange below land, that a slight disruption to his plans emerged.
‘Kukiel! Kukiel!’ a distressed woman called frantically. ‘Where could that child have gone?!’
Link hesitated a moment too long, and the woman turned and spotted him. ‘Oh! Link! What perfect timing!’ she gasped. ‘You haven't seen my Kukiel, have you?’
Link frowned. The woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. ‘Kuki… who?’ he said blankly.
‘My daughter!’ the woman answered frantically. ‘She’s a little five-year-old girl! Please, Link: won’t you help me look for her? I've been looking everywhere, but I can't find her! I've asked everyone I could find for help, and a few people have said she’s been spotted with some unknown person with a scary face. Someone else even said they thought they’d seen her carried off by a monster. A monster!’ Link flinched, but the woman appeared not to notice. ‘She must have been kidnapped! She's so cute and friendly… someone must have just walked off with her! Find Kukiel, please!’
‘I…’ Link hesitated, eyes drifting off in the direction of the red pillar of light off in the distance. ‘I don’t know if I can –’
‘Please!’ the woman sobbed. ‘It breaks my heart to think she’s somewhere out there, crying! Please, Link!’
‘I… umm… well…’ Link stammered. He faltered for a few more seconds, then pasted a smile on his face and replied, ‘Sure. You got it.’
The woman’s face relaxed into relief. She thanked him profusely and then turned away, continuing her own search.
Link cast a quick, analytical glance across his surroundings and the powerwalked over to a suitable hiding spot around the side of the wall that surrounded the Isle of the Goddess. He drew his sword and quietly called, ‘Fi.’
The sword spirit leapt free. ‘Yes, Master Link?’
‘I assume you heard what that woman was saying,’ he began.
‘That is correct.’
‘I know there’s no time to waste,’ he went on, ‘but… your dowsing thing. Are you able to locate that little girl, maybe?’
‘Unfortunately not,’ Fi conceded. ‘As I have not yet been exposed to the aura in question, I am unable to calibrate my sensors. I would recommend inquiring with other inhabitants of Skyloft that may have sighted the child. The marketplace and plaza may be useful sources of rumours, and your classmates may also be willing to offer a hand in the search.’
‘There’s no time for that though, is there?’ Link said reluctantly. ‘Zelda’s waiting for me, right? In this “Eldin” place?’
‘While general expedience is indeed critical to successful recovery of the spirit maiden,’ Fi responded, ‘it would be inadvisable to proceed with your current equipment. My analysis shows that you are lacking in recovery items and that your shield has sustained substantial damage. Further, the message from the Goddess obtained at Skyview Spring indicate a sixty-five percent chance that the Eldin region presents some form of combustion-related peril, and I must remind you that your wooden shield is not well-suited to defend you from fire-based attacks.’
Link frowned as he parsed that. ‘So… you’re suggesting that I go and visit the market regardless?’ he ventured. ‘And that I might as well ask about Kukiel along the way?’
‘Indeed,’ Fi confirmed. ‘Furthermore: it would be advisable to delay your departure until the following morning. Analysis of your breathing patterns indicates a high level of fatigue, which is likely to result in impaired combat performance. Resting in an unsafe location with inadequate bedding, shelter and sustenance is likely to exacerbate this condition, noting also that the weather conditions of the surface world are harsher than your life in the skies has likely prepared you for.’
Link baulked. ‘I can’t just wait a whole night! If Zelda is stuck down there, she’s going to have exactly the same problems, and worse. She doesn’t even have a weapon, let alone any potions!’
‘The spirit maiden’s specific location is, as yet, unknown to you,’ Fi reminded him, ‘and as was recently demonstrated: the scale of the surface world significantly outstrips that of the sky islands. Failure to exercise suitable caution may jeopardise your mission.’
Link frowned. ‘Slow and steady wins the race, huh?’
‘That idiom is indeed appropriate for the current situation, Master.’
Link pursed his lips. ‘I’ll… consider it. You’re right that I need to restock. And I may as well ask around about Kukiel while I’m at it. There’s still a bit of sunlight left, so maybe we can even take a quick peek at this Eldin place, and at least figure out what we’re in for.’
‘An excellent plan, Master Link,’ Fi agreed.
He grimaced. ‘You don’t have to agree with me on everything, you know? And the whole “Master” thing isn’t necessary either.’
Fi cocked her head curiously. ‘You are my master, and therefore I would logically refer to you as such. Does it displease you?’
‘What? No, just…’ Link trailed off. ‘I mean, it doesn’t really matter if it displeases me. You’re not my slave. Do whatever you want.’
Fi considered. ‘As you wish, Master,’ she announced, before flipping and shrinking back into the blade of the Goddess Sword.
Link frowned, but obligingly sheathed the blade.
Sentient weapons were a little hard to understand at times, it seemed.
About an hour later, properly equipped with a heavy new iron shield (the item check girl had made a weird squeaking noise when he arrived to trade in his wooden one, but she’d refused to explain) and a set of refilled potion bottles, Link set out towards Pumpkin Landing.
It wasn’t quite his first time visiting, but it had certainly been a while. He indulged in a brief, self-guided tour of the place, greeting both the proprietor and his daughter and jolting at the sight of a familiar instrument standing proudly to one side of the stage – not Zelda’s own saxophone, but similar enough that he’d needed to ask – before heading onwards to visit the viewing area upstairs. It was there that Link encountered one of the harshest tests to his morals that he’d faced in some time.
No roughhousing on the balcony! the sign stated clearly. Big ruckuses cause the chandelier to shake.
‘Ohh,’ Link whined quietly. ‘Oh, no. I wanna cause problems on purpose.’
He cast a furtive look around him. There were a couple of potential witnesses, sure, but not many. And it wasn’t as if he was planning to actually break anything, just… wouldn’t it be kind of exciting if that chandelier were to shake just a little? And really, wasn’t it the proprietor’s fault for putting the idea in his head in the first place? Just one tiny little nudge (or two, or three) surely wouldn’t hurt any –
CRASH.
‘Uhh…’ said Link, staring down over the balcony towards the scene of the accidental crime. ‘Whoops?’
There was a long beat of silence, eventually broken by a shout from the bar. ‘WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!’ yelled the proprietor.
‘Well, at least Kukiel’s safe,’ Link said wearily, several side-quests later.
Indeed, Master Link, a familiar voice echoed from inside his head.
Link jumped, head turning wildly from side to side. ‘Fi?!’
It is I, the sword spirit confirmed. I am currently communicating telepathically with you.
‘Have you always been able to do that?’ he asked aloud.
Yes, Master Link. Though I can understand it may be disconcerting. My apologies. The hilt of the Goddess Sword flashed briefly, and the sword spirit emerged, shimmering gently in the darkness. ‘Master Link,’ Fi continued aloud, ‘now that you have successfully located the missing child, I would recommend retiring for the night. As noted previously, a scan of your body indicates high levels of fatigue, as well as residual damage from your adventures today. It is advisable that you rest in advance of your journey to Eldin Province.’
Link bit his lip, casting one more wistful glance in the direction of the red pillar of light. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he acknowledged grudgingly. He paused, then added, ‘And Fi?’
‘Yes, Master?’
‘Thanks for all your help today.’
‘Your gratitude is unnecessary, Master.’
He shrugged. ‘Sure. But have it anyway, for what it’s worth. Call it destiny or whatever you like, but I can’t be an easy person to put up with, and you’ve done great so far.’
‘Master Link,’ Fi responded, emotionless as ever, ‘I am yet to encounter any of the difficulties of which you speak.’
He scoffed quietly. ‘Good to hear, I suppose. Here’s hoping we can continue that streak just a little longer.’ At least until they found Zelda, that was.
Fi inclined her head in a slight nod. ‘Please do accept my continued service, Master Link.’
Link slept in. He didn’t mean to, but really he should’ve seen it coming, because Link always slept in, whether he meant to or not and whether he would regret it or not.
Regret came rather quickly, this time.
‘Master Link,’ Fi began. ‘I require your confirmation on critical information obtained from that Mogma conversation. The oddly garbed figure taken deeper into the region must be…’
‘It couldn’t be Zelda, could it?’ Link asked desperately. ‘Maybe… maybe just that woman in black we were hearing about earlier?’
‘The probability of your assessment being correct is… ten percent. Rounded up. I conclude that the subject was likely Zelda.’
‘So, she really was captured then,’ Link hissed to himself. ‘Goddess… if I hadn’t wasted so much time getting here…’
‘Master Link,’ Fi said sternly. ‘There is a significant chance – approaching one hundred percent – that those who captured the spirit maiden intend to keep her alive, at least for the moment. If you proceed with haste, there remains at least a seventy percent probability that you will encounter Zelda before any grave harm befalls her.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Link asked desperately.
Fi went quiet for several seconds, then answered, ‘It is not my place to answer that question, Master Link. Suffice to say that it is the spirit maiden’s soul that is of value to these demonfolk, not the flesh that encases it. I recommend we proceed at haste.’
Link swallowed down the deluge of questions those calm statements triggered. ‘Right. Fine,’ he said tightly. ‘Then what’s the plan?’
‘There is a ninety percent probability that Zelda’s current location lies beyond these doors,’ Fi advised. ‘Additionally, I calculate a ninety-five percent probability that the key to this door is made of the same material composition as this mechanism that bars it. I have detected objects of the same material in the surrounding area. I have registered them as dowsing targets.’
‘Ah! Good thinking,’ Link said quickly. He drew the blade. ‘Alright. Then let’s not waste any more time.’
It was clear that Zelda had fought her captors, evidenced by scraps of torn fabric, occasional strands of golden hair and a few small, splintered bits of wood that Link thought he recognised from the saxophone accessories Zelda had shown him. No blood, thankfully, and he contented himself with that much as he tripped and stumbled once more across the hot stone floor.
Unprompted, Fi rose from the Goddess Sword. ‘Master Link,’ she reported, ‘it seems you have sustained significant damage to your person. I would recommend utilising one of the recovery items from your pouch.’
Link pressed a hand to his side with a slight grimace. ‘You don’t think I should save them for now? We haven’t even found Zelda yet.’
‘Your current injuries are estimated to reduce movement speed by approximately twenty percent,’ reported Fi, ‘which results in a similar reduction to the probability of recovering Zelda unharmed. I would strongly recommend promptly addressing the issue.’
Well, Link couldn’t really argue with that. ‘Alright, then,’ he conceded. He swiftly chugged a heart potion and got up, marvelling at the sudden looseness of his tense limbs. Huh: must’ve gotten more hurt than he realised, in between all those lizalfos, all that “lava” (a new and exciting substance helpfully confirmed by Fi as entirely and unequivocally inedible) and all the other sentient and non-sentient sources of bodily harm that apparently populated this part of the surface world.
It was enough to make him nostalgic for the giant spiders of the Faron region, really.
‘Better get a move on, then,’ he decided.
‘Indeed, Master Link. Note that I am detecting hints of Zelda’s aura in the passageway ahead. As such, I would recommend –’
‘Zelda?’ Link cut in heedlessly. ‘She’s nearby?!’
‘The reading is strong, thus there is a strong probability that that is the case. I am however also detecting –’
He rushed off in the direction Fi had indicated, ignoring both the beginnings of a verbal warning and the subtle wheeze that caught in his chest along the way.
‘Master,’ said Fi, ‘I detect Zelda’s aura in the surrounding area. I detect an especially strong reaction from this chain. I calculate the probability Zelda was bound by it recently at ninety-five percent. I surmise Zelda was somehow able to escape and proceed along this path.’
There was a long pause in which Link stared at the chain. There wasn’t much give to it at all; about a metre at most of crude, unpleasantly warm metal that had been hastily staked into the floor.
Gently, Fi prompted, ‘I suggest we continue with all possible speed.’
‘Right. Of course,’ Link said brusquely. He forcibly turned away. ‘Let’s go.’
Yet even as he began to run forwards, a familiar laugh halted Link in his tracks. With a sense of deep foreboding, he lifted his gaze.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ Ghirahim remarked, leering down from his perch atop the great, stone beast. ‘Let me see… No, that’s not it,’ he said to himself, then flicked his hair and pointed down at Link. ‘This is so very embarrassing, but I seem to be at a loss for your name,’ he announced. He shrugged. ‘Not that it matters, really. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit frustrated and right now I just need someone to vent to.’
How wonderful that that someone happened to be Link.
But if this so-called demon lord wasn’t chasing after Zelda… Link frowned, looking at the path ahead and then back up at Ghirahim. As if answering the unspoken question, Ghirahim continued, ‘I heard my underlings had finally captured the spirit maiden, so of course I rushed over here. What can I say? I was excited. Flustered, even… but what did I find when I arrived?
‘That agent of the goddess… she had once again… you see, what I’m trying to say is…
‘That goddess-serving dog escaped with the girl!’ Ghirahim yelled.
Link felt relief rush through him. So, that woman with the black clothes had found Zelda first, then? That was… possibly still bad, but better than her being captured by monsters?
Heedlessly, Ghirahim continued to rant, ‘I MUST have the spirit maiden in order to resurrect my master! I MUST HAVE HER!’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘…I got a little carried away there, didn’t I? I don’t deal well with… complications to plans I’ve laid out so carefully. It’s a character flaw of mine. Ah, but something good can still come from this day! I’ve had all this bottled-up anger smouldering inside me, and now I can release it. There’s someone special I’d like to you to meet.’
‘Huh?’ said Link.
‘Oh, don’t be shy!’ Ghirahim crowed in that unfairly attractive voice of his. ‘I need to vent all this unhealthy anger, and your agony is such a great stress reliever. It won’t take more than a few moments with my friend before you’re charred to a satisfying crisp. And let me tell you, that will put a spring in my step!’
Wait, no: that sucked.
‘Actually,’ said Link, ‘I don’t think I want to –’
Ghirahim clicked his fingers and vanished. Before Link even had a chance to wonder what he had meant, the head of the giant, lizard-like statue Ghirahim had been standing on suddenly opened, dropping a very familiar stone deathtrap right in front of him. He dove to the side just in time, and the stone ball continued to roll down the incline. Link cast a quick, dubious glance back up at where Ghirahim had been (was that really it?), only for a roar from below to draw his attention to the fact that the stone deathtrap had abruptly grown legs. Legs that were on fire.
‘Hello,’ Link said faintly. ‘Who are you?’
Fi pulsed in his hand. Target lock: Scaldera, she offered helpfully. This fearsome monster inhabits the deepest recesses of the Earth Temple. It can be categorised as a Pyroclastic Fiend.
In her defence, Link had asked for it. He regretfully responded, ‘Thanks, Fi.’
You are most welcome, Master.
When the pyroclastic fiend known as Scaldera finally collapsed, Link followed close after, gasping frantically for air.
‘Master Link,’ Fi said abruptly. ‘The burns you have sustained appear quite severe. I would recommend promptly utilising one of your recovery items.’
Too dazed to argue, he reached shakily for his adventure pouch, only to freeze at the sound that echoed from the door up ahead.
‘No way,’ he breathed.
It was unmistakeable: Zelda’s own special version of the Ballad of the Goddess, played on a dual-purpose woodwind instrument and brass bludgeoning weapon. He could practically hear the hip thrusts and the pink sunglasses that went with it. Completely forgetting about Fi’s suggestion, he sprinted unsteadily up the incline and threw the door open.
The air was blessedly cool and fresh compared to the interior of the Earth Temple. He could hear running water interspersed with Zelda’s song, and could see something bright up ahead. He staggered onwards. Just as the song was finishing, he arrived at the base of a short stairway before a stone altar.
‘Zelda!’ he called desperately.
She jolted and turned towards him, smile growing as she called back, ‘Link!’
The saxophone slipped from her grasp, wobbling dangerously on the neckstrap as Zelda instinctively shifted towards him.
The tall, lithe woman standing at Zelda’s side held her arm out to bar Zelda’s path. ‘You cannot go to him, Your Grace,’ she said sternly. ‘Remember what we discussed. Restrain yourself. Focus on the task at hand.’
Succintly, Link cut in to ask, ‘Excuse me, but what the fuck?’
He himself thought it a very reasonable question indeed, but bizarrely, Zelda hesitated, guiltily shuffling the large not-an-oboe between her hands. ‘I… I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Link.’
‘Wh–? Hold on!’ he yelled back. ‘What are you talking about? What’s going –?’
Before he could even finish his question, Zelda stepped into the pillar of light at the centre of the altar. There was bright flash, and as it cleared, Link’s woodwind-wielding childhood friend had disappeared. He recoiled in shock, then recovered and began to rush right after.
The stranger turned to glare at him with enough ferocity to freeze Link in place.
‘It took you far too long to get here,’ the woman said icily. ‘Looking at you, I fear the goddess is mistaken in her choice of agents. If this failure is any indication, you have no hope of defending Her Grace from those who seek to assail her.’
She scoffed, looking down her nose at him as she went on, ‘If I had not come when I did, your Zelda would already have fallen into the hands of the enemy. The truth of it is: you were late. You were late, and you failed to protect her.’
Link flinched. Mercilessly, the woman continued, ‘I sent Zelda ahead to learn more of the fate in which she is destined to play a part. Listen well, chosen one: if you wish to be of help to Her Grace, you must summon a shred of courage and face the trials laid out before you. Only when you’ve conquered these trials will you be of use to Zelda. No sooner. Am I understood?’
With one last, lofty scowl, the woman pivoted and stepped into the pillar of light, disappearing in another burst of radiance and taking the strange portal with her.
Link closed his eyes and breathed through the sudden tightness in his chest. ‘What the fuck?’ he muttered to no one in particular.
There was a soft chime from behind him. ‘Master Link,’ Fi said quietly. There was an uncharacteristically long pause before she added, ‘I would suggest proceeding immediately to the goddess crest ahead. There is a ninety-five percent probability that it contains another message from the gods of old, which may provide a valuable clue as to –’
‘To those trials that person mentioned, right?’ Link said bitterly. ‘Whatever that means.’
‘…Master Link,’ Fi added, ‘you have sustained severe damage, and I am detecting a concerning disturbance in your aura. Your body temperature is also currently exceeding normal bounds. I would recommend completing your business here and returning to the sky as soon as possible in order to commence rest and recovery activities.’
Link sighed. ‘No time for rest, though, is there?’ he asked bitterly. He raised the tip of the Goddess Sword to the heavens, charging up another Skyward Strike. ‘Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.’
One divine message and a new stone tablet later, Link had everything he needed to get going. Instead, he hesitated.
‘Master Link?’ Fi prompted after a moment.
Link sighed, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘Uhh… I just wanted to… umm…’ He chewed his lip briefly, then explained, ‘I’m sorry. For earlier, I mean. And… I mean… you’ve been a great help so far, but are you still ok to keep accompanying me?’
Fi was slow to respond. ‘My purpose remains unchanged, though a degree of recalibration is clearly necessary,’ she reported eventually. ‘Analysis indicates a seventy-five percent match between the disturbance in your aura and the emotion that humans refer to as “shame”. To the extent that my own incompetence has contributed to this shift – estimated at an approximate sixty-five percent probability – please accept my apologies.’
‘What? No! You’ve done nothing wrong!’ Link protested. ‘I’m the incompetent one. Just like that person said. I’m… I’m always slow. And ditzy. And I sleep in for too long; did it again today – of all days – just like everyone always says –’
For a moment, Zelda’s image flashed before him. ‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ she said fondly.
‘Master Link?’ asked Fi.
He flinched. ‘W-well. Anyway,’ he said hastily. ‘If you’re good to keep going, so am I. We should probably hurry, I guess.’
Fi continued to hover silently for a few moments more. ‘As you wish, Master Link,’ was all she responded with in the end.
The sword spirit returned to the blade, while her wielder turned and began to make his way, once again, into the dark, smoky temple below.
Chapter 3: Hazardous Swordwielding Speedrun Strats
Summary:
Link makes a brief pitstop back home, only to realise that the Groose is loose. Link arrives in the Lanayru Mines, and discovers that temporal displacement is a thing. Link encounters a new form of giant arachnid, to Fi's deep delight. Link arrives right on time and receives a large woodwind instrument as reward. Link experiences various crises, some more critical than others.
Notes:
If there's one thing I'd really like in a Zelda game, it's for the NPCs to notice when Link's hearts are low. NPCs other than the damn minesweeper moleman. Why does the moleman care more than Zelda does? What a jerk. At least Fi's on his side: she'll monitor his health, his batteries and his Wii-mote motion controls too. What a champ. Everyone needs a Fi in their life.
Chapter Text
The saleswoman at the potions shop made a face at Link when he visited to hurriedly obtain a heart potion and two stamina potions. With his mind still in disarray, he missed whatever promotional offer resulted in an extra helping of healing elixir being shoved his way free of charge – accompanied by a rough hair ruffle and a forehead flick – and could offer little more than an absent-minded “yes” to whatever question the bored clerk of the Item Check had asked – latter flushing almost as red as a third heart potion at the response, suggesting he just might have made some sort of mistake (oh, well). With that sorted, he’d intended to set out immediately, only for Fi make an unusually firm recommendation for him to replace his small glass water bottle with a larger, shatterproof canteen.
The message received at the Earth Spring indicates that our destination poses an above average risk of dehydration, she noted by way of explanation. Your current exhaustion and recent exposure to extreme heats likely heightens this risk. Rest and recuperation are advised, but if you choose to proceed regardless, it is vital that you prepare accordingly. I calculate an eighty-five percent probability that suitable alternate equipment can be obtained from the Knight Academy’s supply room. This should represent only a very minor detour.
He couldn’t really argue with that: considering the academy’s location, it was only a minor detour to collect the equipment he needed. At least, it should have been.
He was a little over halfway from storeroom to kitchen, new canteen in hand, when a door suddenly opened. He stumbled back just in time to avoid a head-on collision, muttering a distracted apology as he continued on his way.
‘Wha–? Hang on: Link?! Where the hell have you been?’
It took a second or two to register the question, and a fraction of that for Link to arrive at a decision to ignore it. Unfortunately, Groose had never responded well to such tactics. Even less fortunately, his self-proclaimed rival’s longer legs held the advantage on land, for all that there was little competition up in the sky.
‘Hey! I asked a question; you sleepwalking again, or what?’ Groose demanded as he strode ahead and swivelled to block Link’s path. He gave a slight double-take as Link lifted his scowling face to him, and amended, ‘Sleepwalking into the stove this time, huh?’
Link raised a hand automatically and felt for the burns on his face that he’d all but forgotten about. A spark of irritation cut through his daze. He ducked under Groose’s extended arm and snapped, ‘Not now.’
Groose let him pass, but the sound of his heavy footsteps followed in hot pursuit as Link made his way to the water basin and used a pitcher to fill his new canteen.
‘Don’t think I don’t see you flying in and out of town all the time,’ Groose offered up after a brief pause. ‘I know what you’re up to: you’re trying to make sure you find Zelda first, but it ain’t gonna happen! So how ’bout you get your sorry little butt back to bed and let me take it from here?’
The insane urge to laugh bubbled up. ‘Sounds good,’ he responded instead. ‘You got any leads?’
Groose gave a loud scoff. ‘It’s driving me crazy! I’ve looked absolutely everywhere, but still no Zelda. I do have one last idea, though. Have you seen the lights that popped up out of the clouds a few days ago?’
‘Oh, yeah. I did notice those,’ Link commented mildly. The canteen seemed to be taking forever to fill; was it enchanted with spatial magic or something?
‘So I say to myself,’ Groose went on heedlessly, ‘Groose, that thing looks kinda fishy! Then one day it hits me: what if that’s Zelda down there, and she’s sending me a signal? It’s a sign! It says, “Save me, Groose. You’re my only hope!” And the more I think about it, the more sure I get! It’s Zelda down there, and I gotta go rescue her!
‘Anyway, don’t think about trying to go down there before me. I’m her hero, remember?!’ Groose concluded aggressively.
Link smiled brightly and replied, ‘Yep! I hear you loud and clear.’ Canteen finally full to the brim, he turned to face Groose, taking in the odd furrow in his classmate’s face as he added, ‘Good chat, Groosey. I’ll be on my way, then.’
Groose’s scowl deepened. ‘Seriously. Go to bed,’ he responded with uncharacteristic seriousness. ‘You look like shit. More so than usual.’
Charming. ‘Ran out of hair gel,’ Link snarked. ‘You’ll have to lend me some of yours sometime. Later.’
He turned and waved a sarcastic farewell over his shoulder. As he left, he heard Groose huff and mutter a quiet complaint that sounded oddly like “Why do I bother?”.
Why indeed? Link left him to figure that part out for himself, and pushed the entire encounter from his own mind. He had better things to do.
‘A report, Master Link,’ said Fi. ‘We have arrived at Lanayru Mine.’
Link couldn’t help but halt in place, gazing out in awe – and perhaps a tinge of horror – at the strange yellow-grey landscape that stretched off to the far distant horizon.
He’d never seen a place so devoid of life. Verdant Faron had held almost too much of it, all crammed together in one place, but even the fiery Eldin region had held its share of trees, shrubs and animals both large and small. The only signs of such in this place were the quiet hum of insects carried to his ears on the still, dry air, and the towering sculptures – each easily exceeding the size of Skyloft’s grandest of monuments – that dotted the empty wasteland.
Link frowned. ‘Are there… people living out here?’ he asked tentatively. It was hard to imagine, but someone had to have built those structures, surely?
Fi considered. ‘Analysis of our surroundings indicates that there were once many people living out here,’ she concluded. ‘It appears unlikely that the current environment could have supported such a large population. I therefore surmise that this arid region was transformed into a desert over the course of several hundred years.’
At Link’s resulting blank stare, Fi clarified, ‘A desert is an area, typically covered with sand, rocks or ice, which receives a comparatively low amount of precipitation, resulting in conditions hostile to life.’
‘Hostile to life?’ Link repeated curiously.
Fi explained, ‘Dry biomes tend towards extreme climates, from high temperatures at day to drastically cooler ones at night. More significantly: all species of flora and fauna currently recorded within my memory banks require water to live, though some have evolved characteristics that allow for more efficient forms of water storage and conservation, as well as improved methods of thermoregulation. Humans, unfortunately, are resource-intensive beings with comparatively few innate adaptations to these environmental challenges.’
‘Oh.’ Link flushed in sudden realisation. ‘That’s why you were so insistent on me bringing my own water.’
‘Ah. Yes, Master,’ Fi replied sheepishly. ‘And as such, I must remind you that time is limited, due both to limited supplies and to the environmental threats I mentioned. It would be advisable to proceed promptly towards the mines, which may offer a reduced risk of heatstroke compared to our current location.’
Link squinted up at the fierce sun shining amid the clear sky – with no visible traces of the immense cloud barrier that really ought to be visible.
‘You’re right. We should get moving,’ he agreed. ‘Can you tell if Zelda is somewhere nearby?’
‘My projections show that Zelda must have travelled through this area,’ Fi equivocated. ‘As before, you may utilise dowsing to track her aura.’
Link sighed. ‘Close enough,’ he mumbled.
A brief flash of a certain scowling stranger’s face swam to mind, extinguishing the remaining sparks of scientific curiosity at their surroundings.
‘Yeah. We should hurry,’ he concluded distantly.
With that decided, he drew the Goddess Sword and held it out before him, doing his best to focus on nothing more than the guiding pulsations of the enchanted blade.
‘Fi,’ said Link, ‘what did you just say?’
Obligingly, the sword spirit repeated, word-for-word, ‘I am able to confirm that a time shift has occurred within the space. Any impact to the blue stones creates a sustained temporal disruption field in the surrounding area. Readings show that this area is in a past time state.’
‘Fi, that’s not a thing,’ Link protested.
Fi tilted her head curiously. ‘Master Link, unfortunately I am unfamiliar with this vernacular. Might I request a rephrasing?’
‘I mean, isn’t that impossible?’ Link translated. ‘Isn’t time travel impossible?’
‘Ah. To clarify,’ Fi responded, posture relaxing subtly, ‘we have not travelled back in time. Rather, our immediate surroundings are currently reflective of a past time state. At a local level, the effect is similar, though on a global level it would be more accurate to state that the impacted area has travelled to us rather than the inverse. Regardless of terminology however, it appears that this temporal disruption has opened a new path. I suggest making use of the reactivated minecarts.’
Link wandered over curiously. ‘This thing?’
At the sound of his idle question, one of the small robots turned around and gave an irritable click as it explained, ‘That’s a minecart for transporting Timeshift Stones, zrrpt. They’re not for human use, so get lost, vrrm!’
‘It does indeed appear capable of supporting your weight, however the rails of this particular minecart do not match the path indicated by the spirit maiden’s aura,’ Fi advised. ‘I would recommend selecting a different route.’
‘None of them are for human use, zrrpt!’ the robot announced angrily. ‘None of them!’
Link considered. Link looked down at the minecart tracks, and checked the location of Zelda’s aura one again.
‘I didn’t want that one anyway,’ he informed the robot, heading instead towards a second minecart a short walk away. He stepped inside, and enjoyed a longer than expected, slower than expected journey past the deeply annoyed mechanical construct.
Lanayru was a little weird, Link decided.
Lanayru was more than a little weird, Link eventually concluded.
Strangeness of the “temporal disruptions” aside, he found he preferred those little oases to the long stretches of hot, dry air and hungry pools of so-called “sinksand”. It was more bearable indoors, without the harsh sun beating down on him with every step, and yet more bearable again with the twin novelties of his upgraded Beetle and new Gust Bellows to distract him.
He did his best not to let them distract him.
Midway through their journey through the Lanayru Mining Facility, Fi abruptly emerged from the blade. ‘A report Master Link.’
He startled and turned to her. ‘Yes?’
‘It is currently late afternoon outside. Factoring in travel time from this location, it would be necessary to leave promptly if you are to reach the sky before sunset.’
Link cursed to himself. ‘Is it really that late? I thought we were making good time!’
‘Master Link,’ Fi responded blandly, ‘noting you have not rested since departing the Earth Temple: your speed in reaching this point has indeed exceeded all reasonable expectations.’
Link’s lips twisted unhappily. ‘And yet, Zelda’s still ahead of us.’
‘That… does seem to be the case, yes,’ Fi allowed. Quickly, she added, ‘Though I will note, for completeness, that Zelda’s companion showed signs of heightened combat prowess and mobility, as well greater knowledge of the surface world and of the spirit maiden’s mission. It is likely –’
‘Well, if her companion is so great, why am I here?’ Link snapped. Fi did not flinch, but her calm speech immediately broke away into silence. Guilt stirred in Link’s chest and the ire in his voice died down as he told her, ‘Sorry, Fi. I… I shouldn’t have yelled.’
Expressionless as ever, she responded, ‘It is natural to become frustrated in such a situation, Master Link. Unfortunately, there is limited light that I can shed on the current situation. I…’ She hesitated, then continued, ‘I was not given detailed instructions as to this facet of your destiny, nor does Zelda’s mysterious companion exist within my memory. All I intended to say is that the spirit maiden does not appear to be in any immediate danger.’
‘Have Ghirahim and his minions given up on chasing her, then?’ Link asked wearily.
‘The likelihood of that outcome is… not statistically significant.’
‘You’re not going to put a number on it?’
‘…The number is approximately zero.’
Link sighed. ‘Then we continue. If we get stuck here overnight, so be it. Won’t be the first time I’ve lost sleep.’
‘As you wish, Master.’
Fighting words aside, Link decided he would really rather not end up stuck on the surface world overnight on his own. He quickened his pace from then onwards, ignoring the screaming of his tired muscles and the sudden dizziness that frequently tried to trip him up. Soon enough, he reached the large, impressive door at the back of the facility and managed to twist the strange key into place.
‘Fi,’ he promptly asked, upon reaching the centre of the room, ‘what the fuck is that?’
He threw himself backwards as the gigantic whatever-it-was lunged at him, snapping its… its jaws? Its hands? Its hands that were jaws for some reason?
‘What is it?!’ he screeched.
The Goddess Sword buzzed in his hand. Target lock: Moldarach, Fi informed him helpfully. An aracha that has survived its very lengthy larval stage is known as a “Thousand-Year Arachnid”, which is precisely what you see before you. Over ninety percent of its body is shielded by a tough, chitinous armour that can deflect even the sharpest blade.
‘Wha-why?’ Link stammered. ‘Why is that a thing?’
Ah. You wish for further taxonomical analysis, then? By all means, Master. In truth, while I had not wished to interrupt your concentration, I had noted before that the aracha encountered in other parts of this facility held a surprisingly close genetic match with the skulltula encountered at Skyview Temple. Within five percent, I believe. Similar to those skulltula, it is indeed unusual for invertebrates to reach such a size – “not a thing”, as one may say – however –
Link screamed as he dodged another hit and lashed out blindly with his sword. Purple blood sprayed outwards, splattering his knight uniform.
Fascinating. The blood pigmentation is indeed similar, though this Moldarach has clearly adapted a combination of both physical features and movement patterns well-suited to its current environment. It is likely that the two species diverged greatly as a result of the rapid desertification of the Lanayru region. I theorise –
‘Fuck!’ yelled Link, as the Moldarach in question took a generous swing at his middle, clipping him slightly on the waist when he lunged back once again.
…The weak points are its overdeveloped pincers, but you must hit each at the right angle relative to the pincer’s position to be effective, Fi concluded reluctantly.
‘Thanks Fi!’ called Link, who had just about discovered the same thing.
In between the rapid skittering of the creature and the sand it kicked up into his eyes, it wasn’t exactly an easy fight, but perhaps he was learning quickly from all the combat along the way: somehow, he managed to avoid sustaining any serious injury.
As if the Moldarach’s defeat had been some sort of cue, there was a cracking sound from somewhere below, and sand started to rapidly spill from the room. Link panicked and flailed as he dropped further away from the door, fumbling with his sailcloth in the few moments before the flow of sand ceased, dropping him neatly atop a sand-scattered iron platform at the base of the room.
He looked around, seeing mine cart tracks leading off in all directions, as well as a familiar golden door lit up with a glowing copy of the goddess’ sigil. He quickly headed that way, only to emerge into an immense dark hallway overshadowed by huge statues of those same squat robot forms.
The silence was frightening, and the darkness oppressive. He wasted no time launching his Beetle off towards the timeshift stone that hung pride of place in the distant ceiling, thankfully bringing a little light with it, strange and artificial as that light may be. A nearby minecart hummed to life and Link gratefully stepped inside.
Towards the end of the hallway, a new sound joined the quiet buzz of the mechanism beneath him. At first, he thought he might be imagining it, but as he stepped out into the bright corridor beyond, the sound grew into a blaze of jazzy music.
‘Zelda,’ he whispered to himself. Despite everything, a smile twitched at his lips, and he forced his tired feet into a sprint.
The song halted, saxophone lowering tentatively as Zelda turned, slipping her pink sunglasses to the top of her head with a quiet gasp of surprise and relief. ‘Link –!’
The pile of rubble to Link’s left exploded, tossing debris in all directions. Link jumped back, shielding his eyes, while a pale figure in a red cape dashed forward, giggling maniacally. With one swipe of Ghirahim’s sword, a wall of swirling dark magic surged into existence. Eyes widening with sudden fear, Link struck out blindly, only for his sword to clang pointlessly against the barrier, doing no damage except to his own hand.
Ghirahim spared Link little more than a quick wink and a flourish before rushing for Zelda and her companion. The latter lunged forwards, meeting that dark sabre with a glowing blue barrier of her own.
‘Impa!’ Zelda yelled desperately.
‘Your Grace!’ the woman responded urgently. ‘Quickly! To the gate!’
Zelda wavered briefly, then turned and ran backwards. ‘Link!’ she called suddenly. She lifted the saxophone strap from around her neck and held the instrument high, golden light bursting all around her (and since when could Zelda do that?). ‘Link, here!’ she yelled. ‘You’ll need this where you’re going!’
With another rush of blinding energy, approximately three kilograms of brass hurtled through the air, colliding with Link’s chest with enough force to knock him off his feet. His head cracked harshly against the stone paving as he fell. Link spared a brief moment to dizzily raise the instrument above his head in the closest approximation he could manage to an “item get” stance – which, if he was honest, was not very close.
‘Go! Now!’ he distantly heard Impa yell. Link forced himself back to his wobbly feet, unsteady gaze sharpening as he noted the way Ghirahim’s barrier had weakened from his distraction.
The demon lord surged forward, gaze sharp and hungry, and Impa’s blue shield abruptly gave way. Ghirahim laughed as he readied himself for a finishing blow.
Link didn’t give him the chance.
With Zelda’s saxophone still clutched in his other hand, he leapt high in the air and swung the Goddess Sword downwards. The demon lord nimbly dodged the descending blade, only to reel back with a shout of pain as the accompanying improvised bludgeoning weapon struck him across the cheek. Tossed a little off balance himself, Link cursed quietly as he resettled his feet, placing himself in a protective stance in front of Zelda’s new companion.
‘…Link,’ Impa said, almost wonderingly.
‘Am I late?’ he snarked back at her.
Impa gave a quiet, breathy laugh. ‘No. You’re right on time,’ she confirmed.
Without further delay, she scrambled to her feet and rushed after Zelda. ‘Link!’ she called. ‘You must go now. Return to the old woman at the Sealed Grounds. Tell her what happened here. She will know where you must go! And know that we will –’
‘I’ll see you again!’ Zelda interrupted desperately. ‘This isn’t goodbye, Link!’
Goodbye?
Link chanced a quick glance behind him, seeing both women standing on the precipice of the strange “gate”. He swiftly turned his gaze back on Ghirahim, still clutching his cheek with lips twisted in a snarl of rage, and caught the moment the demon lord’s eyes suddenly widened.
There was an explosion from behind, followed by a sound like the shattering of glass. Above both noises rose Ghirahim’s enraged exclamation.
‘Now you’ve done it, Link,’ the demon hissed. He lowered his sword and flicked his hair back with an agitated flourish. ‘I blame myself. I should have reprimanded you the last time we’ve met, but instead I was… soft.
‘I’d take pleasure in punishing you, but I have no time for recreation. Next time…’ He licked his lips. ‘Next time, I’ll do more than just beat you senseless. I’ll make the affair so excruciating, you’ll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams.’
With that said, Ghirahim swung his sword in an ostentatios arch, then vanished in a burst of geometrical lights.
All was suddenly quiet for a few moments.
‘Fuck, why did the goddess have to make me bisexual,’ Link blurted, letting the tip of his sword droop tiredly to clatter on the ground. ‘Or if I had to be bisexual: why is that my flavour of bisexual? Why is Hylia so cruel?’
Fi flipped free from her blade. ‘Master Link,’ the sword spirit replied, ‘the likelihood of the goddess Hylia having any involvement in this specific manifestation of your innate sexual orientation is… statistically insignificant.’
‘How statistically insignificant?!’ Link demanded.
‘Less than ten percent, I would estimate.’
‘Ten percent is a lot, Fi!’ Link griped. ‘That’s a lot! Statistical significance like you wouldn’t believe, Fi! I am having a crisis over here!’
‘Master, there is, at most, a forty percent chance that your newly-discovered bisexuality represents a crisis.’
‘Last time you said it was thirty!’ Link sputtered. ‘It went up! It definitely went up!’
‘Rounding errors may occasionally occur, Master. Nonetheless: may I draw your attention to what is presently behind you?’
Reluctantly, Link turned around, taking in exactly the sight he’d expected. No Zelda, no Impa – just a pile of rubble where the Gate of Time had previously sat. He could feel a headache coming on. ‘They’re gone, aren’t they?’ he asked wearily.
‘Indeed, Master,’ Fi responded. ‘I can no longer detect Zelda’s aura. The moment the gate was destroyed, Zelda’s presence disappeared from my reading. You can no longer search for her with your dowsing ability.’
Back to square one, then. Naturally.
Fi continued, ‘Zelda’s companion instructed you to meet with the ancient one in the Sealed Grounds. This corresponds with the records in my memory. I propose that we travel to the Sealed Temple.’
‘Corresponds how?’ Link asked. He wobbled a little and rubbed a hand over his eyes, blinking his vision clear from a sudden wave of disorientation.
Fi continued, ‘The materials and magical energies used to construct this gate were unusual, however I recall similar readings within the Sealed Temple. It is likely that a second, similar gate exists in that location, though it may need to be repaired or reawakened somehow. For whatever reason, it seems Zelda or her companion previously deemed that gate as unsuitable for their purposes, despite its outwardly safer and more convenient location. The crone we met previously can likely provide further context.’ Fi paused, then added, ‘Unfortunately, I also note that the sun is currently setting, meaning that it would not be possible – or at least, would be deeply ill-advised – to return to the sky at this juncture.’
‘Oh,’ Link said blearily. He looked upwards, shoulders slumping as he finally registered the cause for the low light. ‘Well. I suppose we’re stuck out here after all, then. Can’t say you didn’t warn me.’ A sudden thought struck, and he added, ‘Still. It’s a good thing we kept going, earlier, right? Otherwise, we would’ve been too late.’
‘That is… likely the case,’ Fi responded slowly.
Belatedly realising his words could be misinterpreted, Link quickly appended, ‘Not to say you were wrong to suggest otherwise, before. Just that I, uh, should’ve been faster all along. Back in the Earth Temple, too.’
Fi was quiet for a long moment before slowly responding, ‘Master, you are a denizen of the skies: a safe haven built by the Goddess long ago, which has not prepared you for life on the surface world. Your pace to date has exceeded my expectations, yet has resulted in injury, exhaustion and unreasonable risk to health. I calculate only a miniscule possibility – approaching zero – that an increased pace could have been achieved without greater bodily harm. I am… unsure, overall, as to how this would support achievement of your destiny.’
Flattering indeed. ‘Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Fi,’ Link said with an edge in his voice. ‘I’m just slow. And ditzy, and easily distracted. Everyone says so; Impa wouldn’t be the first. I warned you too, didn’t I? Did you think I was joking?’
‘Master, that… that is not…’
Link shook his head dismissively, regretting it a little when his headache suddenly spiked. ‘Wh-whatever,’ he mumbled. ‘More importantly: where are those t-two now? Ghirahim seemed to think they were out of reach, so does that mean they’re s-safe?’
‘…The Gate of Time is a passageway to the distant past,’ Fi responded evenly. ‘Ghirahim’s reaction suggests either a lack of knowledge as to any other such gate, or that awakening the gate is beyond his abilities. With that being the case, there is likely very little urgency at this stage to reunite with the missing Zelda. I would strongly recommend rest and recuperation. For some time now, your vitals have been showing worrying signs of… ah. A report, Master.’
‘Hmm?’
‘In addition to your previous injuries, you appear to have sustained a head wound, which is currently bleeding. I would recommend promptly consuming a heart potion.’
‘Head wound?’ Link wondered aloud. He shoved the saxophone into a spare pouch (somehow, it fit, and Link wasn’t going to question that) and reached his newly emptied hand to the back of his head. His fingers brushed against something agonisingly tender and came back painted with red.
‘Oh,’ he said faintly. ‘Oh, that hurts, actually.’
He wiped his fingers shakily on his tunic, then fumbled at the pouches on his hips. He was pretty sure he had something that could help with that. Probably. Which pocket was it again?
‘Second pouch to the right,’ Fi directed. Link frowned dizzily; had he asked that question aloud? He didn’t think he had… well, it didn’t really matter. The important thing was… it was…?
‘Master Link, I would recommend sitting down immediately,’ Fi advised urgently, following her words with some sort of explanation that jumbled itself in Link’s ears.
Sitting down sounded pretty good actually, he thought agreeably, right about the time his legs went ahead and crumpled beneath him anyway. Oh. Well, that worked as well as anything, he supposed. Yet despite the fact that he’d clearly followed Fi’s instructions to the letter, she seemed oddly startled by the development. Her blurry words turned sharp and insistent in Link’s ringing ears.
His head ached. His whole body ached. Even his struggling lungs appeared deeply unhappy with the situation, but on the plus side: Zelda was fine, right?
That had to count for something, right?
‘G’night, Fi,’ he slurred. ‘Wake me ’n the mornin’, okay?’
If the stoic sword spirit had any response to that, Link was long past hearing it.
Chapter 4: Excessively Syllabled Sword Sentences
Summary:
Link pauses, against his will, to charge the batteries in his Wii Remote, alongside best bud and all around healthy and supportive companion Gorko. The next day: Groose. Later that day: saxual themes, saxual language, saxual tension. Link flees into the woods in the interest of arranging saxual healing. That's about it.
Notes:
*Groose theme intensifies*
I did a lot of Googling on science and medicine stuff, therefore I totally know what Fi is taking about; don't even worry about it. Haha.
Chapter Text
A bright light burned through Link’s closed eyelids. He groaned and tried to shift away, only to be stymied by a weight on the side of his head. Thankfully, the light shifted away as he reluctantly dragged his eyes open.
The blurry haze before him slowly resolved itself into a set of familiar shapes: a flickering oil lantern, a messy pile of bandaging and the large brown shape of Gorko the Goron, leaning in to inspect his pupils.
‘Hey there, bud!’ Gorko said cheerfully. ‘You with me this time?’
‘Gorgho?’ Link slurred confusedly.
Gorko’s smile wavered. ‘Yep, that’s me. Now, how about we… hmm. Was it the green one or the red one, Miss Fi?’
‘Red if you please, Mister Gorko,’ Fi contributed from Link’s other side. ‘And please note that haste is recommended at this juncture.’
‘Faaai?’ Link queried dazedly. He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye as Gorko carefully tilted him upright and placed a bottle against his lips. He grimaced and turned away, much more queasy than thirsty for the moment, and gave a second, pouty call of, ‘Faaaaaaai! Wassgohnon?!’
‘Master Link,’ she responded calmly, ‘kindly partake in the proffered heart potion as a prerequisite to any further communications.’
Those were a lot of syllables, Link noted calmly. Big words. Real big.
Too big, really.
‘Maheadhurts,’ he announced plaintively.
Irritable chimes melded with a more sympathetic rumble from Link’s second conversation partner. Some sort of liquid dripped through his slack lips and he swallowed idly, only for more to pool in its place. It took another three swallows before the fog in Link’s brain cleared enough for him to recognise the bitter taste of Luv and Bertie’s wares. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and Gorko brightened as their gazes met.
‘That looks much better,’ the Goron observed. ‘Say. You had me worried for a moment there, bud!’
Link nodded sluggishly and mumbled his gratitude, winning another frown in response. Gorko fumbled through the scattered supplies at his side until he located Link's metal water canister with a quiet “aha!”. He carefully pressed it to Link’s mouth, waited for him to accept a few, careful mouthfuls, then added, ‘I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but the circumstances could be better. Unfamiliar as I may be with your kind, I am relatively sure that those red fluids are meant to stay inside. Is that not the case?’
Link felt for the wound at the back of his head – thankfully, although the area was still a little tender, the potion had taken care of any bleeding. ‘Yeah,’ he said weakly. ‘Yeah, I also think the red fluids are supposed to stay inside. Whoops.’
He glanced over at Fi, who had gone oddly quiet. On his enquiring look, she inclined her head politely, then flipped backwards and shrank away into the hilt of the Goddess Sword.
Well. That was odd.
Link did his best to recollect his scattered thoughts. ‘What time is…?’ he asked blearily. ‘And where…?’
‘Still a good few hours before dawn, I would think,’ Gorko informed him, seeming to take pity on his residual dazedness. He shuffled closer, tucking Link’s slack-limbed form in against his gravelly side. ‘We’re in a passageway leading out of the Temple of Time – and might I say…’ His tone turned teasing. ‘Why did you not tell me you had found another entrance, bud?’
‘Huh?’ Link said vaguely.
‘I was just about to give up and go home when I heard this huge crash!’ Gorko continued. ‘I rushed back to find the way had been cleared – and good thing I did, too! What would you have done without me, then?’
Sluggishly, Link felt for the wet spot at the back of his head and concluded, ‘Died, maybe?’
Fi gave an agitated chime, but did not argue.
‘Hmm,’ said Gorko. ‘Well, let’s avoid that one then, shall we, bud?’
‘Yeah, good idea,’ Link assented wearily. ‘I’ll try not to bash my head against any more –’
The Gate of Time. Ghirahim. Zelda –
He shot upright with a cry of alarm, shoving himself hastily up on his elbows to his palms and all the way to his feet before his surroundings blurred into mush once again. The next thing Link knew, his limp body was draped once more over Gorko’s solid and unyielding shoulder. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa – steady, there!’ Gorko scolded mildly as he lowered Link back to the ground and pillowed the infirm Hylian’s head back in his lap. ‘Now, I know you’re keen to find that friend of yours, but there isn’t a friend in the world who’d want you wandering around the cold, dark desert in that condition! I certainly won’t be allowing it. No, you’ll be staying with me, under my watch tonight, and that’s quite final. I’ll even let you use my bedroll; seems you need it more than I do, right now.’
Link scowled. ‘’M fine,’ he wheezed. It was true after all, more or less. ‘’S not even cold.’ No, if anything: wasn’t it starting to get a little too warm inside that stuffy temple? ‘’Nd’m not tired either.’ Technically a lie, but in fairness, tiredness was basically his natural state, even before Zelda’s disappearance. And in any case: ‘’Ve got stamina potions, too,’ he announced triumphantly. ‘Th’ll keep me going f’r bit longer.’
There was another chime from the sword at his back. Master Link, Fi said sharply, noting the two recent instances of syncope, only one of which can feasibly be attributed to thaumaturgically and/or alchemically treatable physical damage to the cranium, as opposed to the other contributing factors of prolonged bodily strain, low fluid intake and resulting tachycardia and hyperthermia, and also noting the more recent onset of pyrexia, I must surmise with approximately sixty-four percent certainty that even a single additional dose of the aforementioned stamina potion would not only fail to “keep you going for a bit longer”, but in fact result in –
‘Nope. I’m putting my foot down on this one,’ Gorko said firmly, having not been a party to Fi’s increasingly emphatic telepathic communiqué (wow: Fi sure knew a bunch of syllables). ‘This desert is nothing to sneeze at, bud. Even a hardy old boulder like me would hesitate to cross them at this hour, missing person mission or no. To bed with you, my poor red-fluid-leaking friend. Hup heave, in you go…’
Heedless of Link’s continued complaints, the Goron proceeded to tuck him firmly into a soft, warm mass of Goron-sized bedding, and oh: that was actually a pretty good argument to stay put.
Huh.
It occurred to Link briefly to wonder where exactly Gorko was supposed to be sleeping, considering the human occupying his excessively comfortable travel mattress. The thought disappeared into the ether as an enormous but surprisingly gentle hand smoothed over his sweaty forehead.
‘There’s a good human,’ Gorko informed him kindly. ‘Just rest for now. Everything’ll feel a little more hopeful in the morning, I promise you that.’
With all the experience with mornings that Link’s seventeen-year life had brought him, he was relatively certain that that was complete bullshit. Nonetheless: Gorko’s bedroll was warm and comfortable, and Fi’s upset chiming had given way to a soft, comforting hum.
Without really meaning to, Link let his eyelids fall shut.
Gorko was correct, to an extent. Things did feel a little more hopeful in the morning, at least for the several long minutes it took for Link to sheepishly fold up the bedding he’d used (with Gorko brushing the help aside the very moment he noticed), finish his breakfast and wave goodbye to the researcher in question, before stepping outside and discovering that it wasn’t actually morning after all, but instead sometime in the early afternoon.
Swearing had no discernible effect on either loftwing flying speed or that strange heat that had crept over Link’s skin overnight, but it did make him feel slightly better about the situation. He’d take it, at that point.
He’d slept in again, of course. Gorko and Fi had let him, and a part of Link was furious about that, for all that he knew it was unfair to blame his sleeping problems on either of his companions. For her own part, Fi was oddly quiet during the journey back to Skyloft, then oddly quiet once again as he ducked into the bazaar to restock on potions. Along the way in and out, he shook off a storm of enquiries from various vendors, the Headmaster, Fledge and – bizarrely – Groose, and then, deeply annoyed by the delay, wiped the sweat off his face and neck and leapt into the sky once more, headed for the green pillar of light.
He really should have known better than to expect an easy ride from there.
An odd sound from above had Link turning his head curiously towards the solid mass of falling muscle, flab and whatever dense substance sat between Groose’s ears.
Groose bellowed in fear. Link screamed. Level-headed as always, Fi did neither of those things, and instead helpfully deployed the sailcloth on their behalf. Several broken tree branches, and miraculously zero broken human bodies later, they were on the ground.
Link spat out a mouthful of leaves and indulged in a brief, poignant moment of self-pity as he stared at the bright blue sky.
Groose, in comparison, gave a moblin-adjacent grunt of dissatisfaction. ‘Rough landing. Think I mighta broke something,’ he complained. ‘Hey, Link. Seriously. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to land without crash–? WHOA!’
Still lying on the ground, Link watched bemusedly as Groose spun around in place.
‘B-bird? Tiny birds?! Wh-what… are they?!’
Fi stirred once again. In the mental equivalent of a whisper, she explained privately, Species: passer cristatella. Common name: crested finch. These small birds are frequently encountered while traversing the Faron –
‘And what is that thing?!’ Groose yelped.
Link obligingly turned his head in the direction of Groose’s fingertip. ‘Huh – Gorko?!’ he sputtered. ‘How did he make it over from Lanayru so – I mean, am I really that slow?’
Negative, Master Link. Rather, the known features of the Goron species include high endurance and swift ground travel. Furthermore, I deem it unlikely, given the design and present condition of the Lanayru Mining Facility, that Mister Gorko was able to progress past the room in which you fought the Moldarach. I therefore calculate a seventy-two percent probability that he departed shortly after you and cut a direct path across the desert, thus arriving prior to the descent of you and your –
‘Where am I?!’ Groose bellowed to the heavens.
–Associate, Fi finished dubiously.
Link sighed and climbed to his feet, just in time for Groose to rush over and start shaking him by the shoulders. ‘What’s going on here?’ Groose shouted frantically. ‘Ever since Zelda vanished, you’ve been zipping in and out of town all in a hurry, so I figured I’d tail you, and you might lead me to Zelda. But this is… so wild. Seriously, what is that thing over there?’
Link frowned. ‘Well, for starters: he’s not a thing,’ Link responded. ‘His name is –’
‘And what’s with all these trees? There are so many!’ Groose exclaimed. Without seeming to think much of it, he started shaking Link once again. ‘Just give it to me straight! I can take it,’ he pleaded. ‘Where are we? Is Zelda here? What’s the deal with this place?! If there’s supposed to be nothin’ below the clouds, what’s all this?’
Link sighed and rolled his eyes, an unwitting smile stretching over his face. He tapped at the arms holding him hostage, and thankfully Groose took his cue to release his sweaty grip.
‘Alright,’ Link began, ‘I’ll tell you what’s been happening.’
Several minutes later, the third Skyloftian to reach the Surface in however many thousands of years was finally up to speed, and said Surface finally held a name befitting of such a rugged, adventurous wilderness.
‘So lemme see if I’ve got this right,’ Grooseland’s namesake relayed. ‘The old lady living in the temple down the road from here knows where Zelda is?’
‘Hopefully, yeah,’ Link agreed.
‘I see. Right, Link,’ his classmate advised confidently, ‘thanks for getting me here. You’ve done a good job. You can head home, and Big Groose will handle the search for Zelda from now on.’ He patted Link on the shoulder and chuckled to himself. ‘Yup. I’ll track her down, save her, and then give her a lift back to Skyloft… then when we get back, I’ll ask her if she wants to make our whole going-out thing official, and then the two of us will get some quality time together. Huh huh… huh…’
‘Uh,’ said Link.
Groose waved a dismissive hand. ‘Anyway, the point is your work here is done. I got it covered from here! Now, it’s off to find that old lady you were talking about.’ He turned and raised a hand in a jaunty farewell. ‘Catch you later, Link!’
‘Uh – I – ok?’ said Link, hand automatically rising to give an answering wave. ‘Alright. I guess.’ He paused for a moment, running a hand over his flushed face. ‘Hey. Fi?’ he called.
The sword spirit emerged and hovered in front of him. ‘Yes, Master?’
‘Can I get a probability check on that last bit?’ he requested.
‘Which “last bit” do you mean, Master?’
‘Groose finding Zelda before I do,’ he clarified. ‘And then taking her back to Skyloft, making their going-out thing official, and –’
‘Zero percent, Master Link,’ Fi responded mercilessly.
He blinked. ‘That, uh… seems a little harsh, doesn’t… doesn’t it?’
‘Typically, my reference data is indeed cleansed – upon case-by-case scrutiny – by the removal of certain statistical outliers, as well as by rounding to the nearest integer, however if you deem such miracles analytically important, I concede a zero point zero, zero, zero, zero one five percent probability of such an eventuality. At best.’
‘I see,’ Link mused, briefly contemplating the potential of a sprawling multiverse of parallel timelines in which, amidst infinite possible outcomes, the slim probability of Groose protagonism became not only possible, but indeed inevitable.
‘Master Link. Your fever seems to be getting worse,’ Fi observed unexpectedly.
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Never mind that. More importantly, can you sense Zelda’s aura nearby by any chance?’
‘No, Master,’ Fi reported, ‘and furthermore, readings indicate no recent temporal shift activity within our surrounds. With those two findings considered, it appears logical to surmise that she has yet to pass through the presumed second Gate of Time within this location.’
Link relaxed slightly, then caught himself. ‘All the more reason to hurry, then,’ he said determinedly.
He threw a brief, slightly wistful glance over at Gorko – who had seemingly not even noticed their noisy arrival – and then turned and hurried towards the temple entrance.
‘Huh?! You gotta be kidding me, Grannie!’ yelled Groose. ‘You’re messing with me. Say it again, I dare you!’
The quiet, calm response turned to meaningless noise with the distance, easily overpowered by Groose’s obnoxious roaring. Link sped up slightly, though the old woman seated atop the altar appeared utterly unphased by the bulky man towering over her.
As he approached, Groose’s ear flicked and he turned with a sneer on his face. ‘Oh… now I getcha,’ he muttered derisively. He raised his voice in a noisy taunt. ‘Link. Grannie here has been trying to tell me you’re gonna be the big hero who rescues Zelda. What a joke! Look, all I’ve heard so far is a bunch of babbling about destiny, but that’s a load of garbage. I know you, and you’re no hero, shrimp!’
With his piece said, Groose stormed out of the temple, somehow managing to slam the large doors that Link struggled to even push open.
‘I mean, he has a point,’ Link stated, in fairness.
The sword spirit at his back gave a disgruntled telepathic murmur that sounded oddly like the decimal figure from earlier.
Or maybe he was imagining it. He was probably imagining it.
Right?
‘Greetings, Link,’ the old woman called soberly. ‘So. Were you able to catch up with Zelda?’
‘I see. So, the guardian was there as well, was she?’ the old woman droned. ‘The one you saw by Zelda’s side is known as Impa. She is a being sent forth by the goddess to aid Zelda in her quest. The two have travelled somewhere in order to accomplish the great task destiny has set before them. However, now that Impa has destroyed the gate that they used, there is only one way left to find them:
‘You must make use of the saxophone given to you by Zelda.’
Link reached dubiously into his pouch and produced the woodwind instrument in question, still smeared with both his blood and Ghirahim’s, as well as a healthy coating of dust from the broken Gate of Time. ‘This thing?’ he checked.
There was a faint note of affront in the woman’s tone as she cast her eyes over the object and explained, ‘The saxophone you hold is known as the Goddess Saxophone. It is a divine instrument of the goddess who once watched over this land. The melodies it brings to life have the power to produce a variety of strange and otherworldly effects.’
‘You don’t say…’ Link murmured.
The older woman cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps if you would… wipe it down a little, first?’
Link looked askance at the filthy tunic he wore. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a marginally less filthy handkerchief, which he used, with minimal success, to dispel the worst of the grime. With that settled, Link inspected the instrument for a moment, and then brought it to his lips.
There was a breathy whistle, followed by an ear-shattering shriek.
Link politely lowered the instrument.
The old lady hummed thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps some lessons are in order.’
Several minutes later, the old woman leaned back with a pensive hum. ‘I… admit,’ she said slowly, ‘that I had not foreseen this particular hurdle.’
Link’s scratchy honk petered off into another raucous screech. He bristled as he lowered the infuriating mess of buttons and levers. ‘Ok, fine: I know I’m not exactly the brightest glowstone in the cellar, but did you seriously expect me to just pick up this instrument and immediately know how to play it? I mean, maybe if I was the goddess Hylia herself!’
The old woman winced. ‘Yes. Well. In any case…’ She sighed. ‘Progress has been made, I suppose. For today, I will at least teach you the fingerings –’
‘The what?!’
‘For today, I will teach you how to place your fingers in order to produce specific tones,’ the woman graciously amended, ‘and you may practice your breath control at –’
‘H-hey! Just because I have weird tastes in men doesn’t mean I –’
‘You may practice the process of pushing air through the saxophone, as well as the placement of your lips on the saxophone’s mouthpiece, at your leisure,’ the slightly irritated crone summarised.
‘Oh,’ said Link. ‘Sure.’ A few seconds passed before he abruptly reconsidered. ‘But what about Zelda? Do I really need to know how to play this thing in order to find her?’
‘You will indeed,’ she confirmed regretfully. ‘And perhaps this setback is the goddess’ own will. In truth… I suspect that Zelda’s companion may have said a few… unnecessarily harsh things. As things stand, the two are no longer in any immediate danger, so it would be wise to take your time.’
The sword spirit hovering judgementally at Link’s side suddenly perked up. ‘Indeed, Master,’ she confirmed, ‘perhaps, once the lesson is complete, we might return to Skyloft? There is an eighty-three percent likelihood that the current Headmaster, as previous custodian of the Goddess Saxophone, can provide additional written or verbal instruction to support the learning process.’
Link hesitated. ‘And you’re sure she’s in no danger?’ he asked warily.
‘I swear it,’ the old woman said solemnly. ‘As long as the Gate of Time is closed and the seal outside holds firm, no harm shall befall the spirit maiden.’
Link’s shoulders slumped. ‘Fine,’ he sighed. ‘Then let’s get fingering already.’
The old woman appeared upset, for some reason.
Somewhat sheepishly, Link creaked the temple door open and looked in both directions.
‘You done making dying remlit noises, or what?’ Groose remarked sourly.
Closer than Link had expected, his classmate was leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed over his chest.
Link coughed lightly. ‘Uh… yeah. For now, at least.’
Groose grunted and waved his meaty hand. ‘So?’
‘So, I’m heading back to Skyloft,’ Link replied, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. ‘If you want to do the same, those bird statues can –’
‘Save it. We’re not friends,’ Groose growled in response, though without much heat. He paused, then tacked on, ‘I’m gonna explore around here a bit more. Still gotta save Zelda, after all. And it’s not like I got a sailcloth like yours, anyway. Though she’ll probably make me one when I come swooping in to rescue her, of course. Probably better than yours, too, now that she’s got the wimpy loser prototype outta the way.’
Not for the first time when dealing with Groose: Link wondered why he even bothered. ‘Sure. Whatever,’ he mumbled. ‘Don’t say I didn’t offer.’
A hand on his elbow caught him as he turned to shove his way back past the tall double doors. ‘What?!’ he snapped.
‘Like I said yesterday: you look like shit,’ Groose said blandly. ‘Like… worse shit than usual.’
‘Great. Thanks,’ Link retorted, frustration rising. ‘Great to hear.’
Groose’s expression darkened. ‘Look,’ he snarled back, ‘obviously I only came this way looking for Zelda. It had nothing to do with some – some pathetic, sickly whelp like you. But all I’m saying is… you know. If you’re supposed to be some big impressive hero, then you should at least try to look the part. Get some rest, dumbass. And don’t come back here until you do.’
‘…Huh?’ Link responded.
The door swung open, and an oversized mass of muscle shoved him back inside the temple. The door swung closed again.
‘…Huh,’ Link repeated, after a moment.
He raised a shaky hand to his flushed face. His fever-flushed face, that was. Because there was certainly no other reason for his face to be flushed.
Yeah.
Wow.
Huh.
He was pretty feverish.
‘I must be sick,’ he admitted to the sword spirit still hovering over his shoulder.
Fi cast a clinical eye over his expression and stance. ‘Master Link,’ she began eventually, ‘are you… by any chance… having another of what we have previously deemed a “bisexual cris–”’
‘NO!’ yelled Link, as he dashed madly for the Faron Woods exit.
Chapter 5: Subtle Psychic Sword Sass
Summary:
Link says hi to Gorko. Gorko offers some light reading material. Link's loftwing disapproves of Link's life choices. Link makes an actually good life choice or two for once. Link makes a startling realisation about his sentient sword. Fi tells him about The Frogs. Link takes a nap. Cue saxophone training montage. Link acquires two more potential love interests(?), one to two sword-bestie side-eyes, and, finally, a sorely necessary saxophone accessory.
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is so late, 2 weeks ago I accidentally microwaved my pasta for too long and it took revenge by hissing angrily at me as it emerged from its clingwrapped prison, inflicting second-degree burns on all four (thumbs don’t count) fingers of my right hand, which is unfortunately the primary one of two hands I used to painfully produce this chapter, contributing literal sweat and blood and largely metaphorical but almost literal tears to the process. Which is not to say that I have an explanation of the other three months of no updates and notably no burnt fingies BEFORE that, but 1) owie, 2) sometimes you just gotta be an unhinged AO3 writer on main, and 3) this chapter ended up being extra long for some reason, so hopefully the wait is worthwhile. I'm not trimming it btw. I could, but I won't.
Luckily Link’s own injuries heal in a fragment of this sort of timeframe, likely because they are not caused by vengeful pasta. Within this fiction at least: heart potions DO heal you, but only to a certain extent, since it mostly just supercharges the body's existing healing functions instead of granting new ones. Once you've toppled over a certain dosage, you need to stop drinking them or else your own body will stop healing you and instead start throwing metaphorically overheated pasta directly at your fingers and in your face. You'll regret it if that happens, take it from me. Ouch.
(*casually transes Link’s gender for the purpose of a single, throwaway line*)
Edited because Fi really ought to know what a fucking noun is, even if the author doesn't.
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Remarkably, for all the time Link had spent attempting, and failing, to produce vaguely tolerable sounds from an overcomplicated brass kazoo, Gorko had not moved from his previous position. Hurtling madly from the temple exit as he had been, said overcomplicated brass kazoo still clutched firmly in his hands, Link skidded to a stop mere metres away from the carved loftwing statue and turned sheepishly to face his new friend.
‘Great Goron! Almost clipped me in the shoulder there, bud!’ Gorko exclaimed. ‘Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?’
‘Uh,’ said Link. He took a few extra moments to unscramble his very much scrambled thoughts, then concluded, ‘The sky.’
Gorko’s face lit up. ‘The sky! Yes, of course! You are a human after all, aren’t you? Ah, the legendary lands above… how I wish I could join you, and see that place for myself…’
Sympathy twinged, and Link paused to contemplate the feasibility of carrying Gorko’s bulky, dense body up to the heavens with his sailcloth and a convenient updraft, then back to Skyloft on the back of his very Link-sized, Link’s-weight-accustomed loftwing.
Probably not very feasible, upon reflection.
‘A Goron can dream,’ Gorko said glumly.
Suddenly curious, Link asked, ‘Then what about you? What were you looking at just now?’
Gorko brightened once more. ‘Ah, yes! A most fascinating discovery indeed, my friend! Look! Those butterflies that respond to the power of improvised jazz solos are swarming all over this place! This has to be the right spot… hrm. Oh, this could be problem. I could not create blue notes or syncopated rhythms if wild animals threatened to roll me down a hill! What can we – oh.’ Gorko took a closer look at Link’s left hand. ‘Could that instrument… possibly be…’
Link followed Gorko’s gaze downwards and gave a guilty flinch and a sheepish laugh. ‘Uh. Yeah. It’s a saxophone. I’m still figuring it out though. Don’t suppose you could give me some pointers?’
Gorko gave a disappointed head shake, followed by a jolt as the smile returned to his face. ‘Ah! Wait! I seem to recall I have a useful tome on the subject! Let me just…’ He fumbled through his belongings for a moment, then triumphantly produced a thick volume titled, “Sacrede Instrumentes ofe Olde Swinge ande Bluese”.
Link squinted. ‘What?’
‘Written in the old human language and all!’ Gorko said excitedly, pressing the book firmly into Link’s unoccupied arm (he wobbled unsteadily from the sudden weight). ‘Now, you go and rest up, study hard and come back here once you’ve got that whole jazz improvisation thing down pat! In the meantime, I’ll keep searching for those so-called “goddess walls”. I have got an inkling I will not have to look very far for those, either. And I mean to find one, no matter what!’
Fi emerged from the hilt of the Goddess Sword. ‘Master Link,’ she advised, ‘the suggestion is sound. Returning to Skyloft for rest, recovery and study is strongly recommended.’
Her tone and face were as expressionless as always, but somehow Link sensed something vaguely exasperated in both. ‘As she says,’ he told Gorko with a reluctant sniffle. ‘Thanks for the help. I’ll see you around, then.’
Perhaps it was the disgruntled squawking upon rendezvous, perhaps it was the way that each of Link’s increasingly emphatic directions were thoroughly ignored while they travelled, perhaps it was, once they landed, the firm nudge against his chest that urged him unsubtly towards the entrance to the Knight Academy, or perhaps it was merely that dizzying wave of concern and disapproval that bled through the unique mental bond that the two halves of any Skyloftian’s soul shared, but somehow, in between it all, Link had the distinct impression that his loftwing may possibly disapprove of one or two of his life choices.
A slightly more sympathetic look was levelled at him as he reluctantly did the responsible thing and reported in to Instructor Horwell – a look that turned to dismay as Link followed him to the infirmary and, on Fi’s quiet but insistent advice, removed his tunic and mail and scraped off his damp and sticky undershirt to reveal the shiny, red, blistered, cracked skin beneath.
‘Huh,’ Link remarked dimly. ‘That looks… worse than it did before.’ And come to think of it: ‘Ouch.’
Horwell gave him a disbelieving stare. ‘By the Goddess, Link! No wonder you’re sick!’
Link winced, bracing himself for the questions and reprimands to follow. Instead, the instructor merely sat him forcefully down on a cot, busied himself for a few moments with a kettle and his collection of medicines and salves and then pivoted with a jar of green paste in hand to ask, ‘Is it alright if I touch your chest, Link? I’d like to clean and disinfect those burns. Then I can wrap them for you, give you some medicine and let you go to get some rest.’ He paused, then amended, ‘Unless you have any other injuries I need to know about?’
‘Not that I know of,’ said Link.
Fi chimed irritably. Master, that is factually incorrect. As he instinctively opened his mouth to argue, she added pointedly, Healing potions notwithstanding.
Fine, then. ‘Well, I did have a head injury,’ Link revised obligingly, pointing towards the body part in question to avoid any potential confusion. ‘And maybe a few stab wounds and bruises here and there. But I’m pretty sure all that’s healed already. I did drink a bunch of heart potion.’
Instructor Horwell’s vaguely disparaging stare sharpened. ‘I would hope so,’ he replied. ‘First aid is what keeps you alive until you reach the doctor, after all. You haven’t forgotten my classes, I trust?’
‘Uh,’ Link sniffled meekly, ‘no?’
Horwell sighed.
Despite the gentleness of Horwell’s touch, and despite the numbing herbs that were supposedly mixed into the salve, it was far more painful than Link had expected to have each of his mostly healed (or maybe not) injuries prodded and poked in turn. He gritted his teeth, breathed steadily and focused on not screaming while that calm voice droned on about the body’s natural healing functions, the risks of overstimulating the immune system, circulatory system and whatever other systems formed part of the probably-useful lecture Link had likely slept through the first time. Fi, at least, seemed to be paying attention; perhaps she’d summarise it for him later.
He broke out of his stupor in time to obediently choke down the foul herbal tincture Horwell had mixed up for him, and, with the instructor’s support, managed to stumble the rest of the way back to his room and into bed. He lay there for a few moments, briefly closed his eyes and then opened them to a darkened room and the distinct sensation of several hours having passed.
It was about that point, at long last, that he remembered his mission.
He lurched upright, wobbled from sudden dizziness and toppled out of bed. ‘Shit,’ he announced loudly from his position on the floor, ‘I left the Goddess Saxophone in the infirmary.’
Not a big deal, he supposed. As far as Link knew, the infirmary was never locked, if only on the off chance that someone happened to need bandages at two o’clock in the morning (and in Link’s defence, he wouldn’t have needed them either if anyone had bothered to teach him about menstruation as a child). Still, consequences or no, it was alarming: how could he just… forget something so important?
He sighed, movements slightly jagged with agitation as he collected his adventure pouches and buckled his sword and shield into place. The shadowed room around Link wobbled sickeningly as he stood up, but a hand on the wall managed to keep him more or less upright. He staggered over to the door, yanked it open and began to carefully navigate the corridor.
The glowstones embedded along the way seemed brighter than usual, which did not help with Link’s headache, nor with his patchy vision. And maybe he was processing everything a little too slowly altogether, or maybe Horwell had had a point with whatever he’d been saying about “trauma” and “stress responses”, but at the instant he picked up on a pained grunt from Fledge’s room his adrenaline was already surging, and before he could even think about it, he was rushing over, flinging the door wide open and darting inside.
He halted there, panting heavily on the threshold as Fledge startled, toppled over and then scrambled into a seated position.
They stared at each other for a moment.
‘Uh – s-sorry,’ Link choked out hastily. ‘I just… I heard noises, and I thought… a-are you alright?’
The confusion in Fledge’s eyes cleared. ‘O-oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I didn’t realise I was so loud. There’s nothing dangerous, just…’ He chuckled sheepishly, hesitated, then explained in a low voice, ‘Actually… I was… training.’
‘Training?’ Link repeated curiously.
Fledge shrugged half-heartedly. ‘Well… I can’t even lift a single barrel. Pathetic, I know. That’s why I want to get stronger. I’m a bit embarrassed about it, though, so I do it at night, when no one’s around to laugh at me…’
Link frowned. He shuffled closer to the doorframe, using it to stealthily prop himself up as he responded, ‘That’s not pathetic at all. Why would anyone laugh at you?’
Fledge gave another nervous chuckle, eyes skating off to the side. ‘Ah, well. That’s… nice of you. But I’ve always been scrawny, you know? Still, even if I can’t get to be quite as strong as you, a guy can dream, right? But it’s not going so well. I’m just too tired. I was actually about ready to throw in the towel…’ He sighed wistfully. ‘It’s probably pointless, anyway. I’m making no progress at all. If only there were a potion that would give me stamina, then I could drink that and maybe find that last little bit of strength I need…’
‘Oh!’ Link reached into his pouch. ‘One of these, you mean?’
Fledge blinked at him. ‘Is that… a stamina potion?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘I – I don’t suppose you’d… let me have that, would you?’
Link shrugged. ‘Take it.’ He needed to visit the bazaar to restock, anyway, and it wasn’t as if an extra potion or two would put much of a dent into the wealth of rupees he’d already unearthed down in Grooseland.
‘Really?!’ Fledge beamed at him, bright and sunshiny and oh-so-charming to Link’s fever-dazed eyes. ‘Thank you! I owe you one.’
Without further ado, he gulped down the bright green elixir, gave a satisfied “phew” and handed the empty bottle back to Link. ‘Whoo-yeah!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can feel my muscles perking back up already!’
Link couldn’t help but smile back. ‘Well, good. Just… don’t overdo it, alright?’
Fledge sighed, slouching once more. ‘I know. It’s just that… even with this, I don’t know if I’ll ever get strong and burly. No matter how much I try.’
Link shook his head. ‘You can,’ he insisted, entirely earnestly. ‘I’ve seen you – you work hard. You deserve to have a little confidence in yourself.’
Fledge’s face flushed the colour of Link’s loftwing. ‘Wow. R-really? It’s great to hear you're so confident in me. Maybe I can actually do this…’ He straightened his posture. ‘Thank you, Link. I’ll make you proud. You’ll see! I’ll be super burly in no time!’
‘O-oh,’ Link stuttered, thrown off balance by Fledge’s sudden enthusiasm. ‘Ok, then. I guess I’ll… I’ll leave you to it.’
Fledge nodded confidently. ‘Ok! Back to training! Come back soon, so I can show you the new me!’
‘Right,’ said Link. ‘Will do. Bye, then.’
He hurriedly exited the room, leaving Fledge to his work and studiously ignoring the continued grunts and huffs emanating from that segment of the academy.
As he collected his saxophone, stowed it safely in his equipment pouch and headed back to his room, Link was granted ample time to think through his own words. And maybe, in retrospect, he was being perhaps, just slightly, mildly, possibly but unlikely… just a little bit hypocritical. Only a little, of course.
Don’t overdo it, he’d said, not ten minutes ago. You work hard. You deserve to have a little confidence in yourself.
Fi had said something similar, hadn’t she? Albeit in a significantly larger quantity of words, each of which Link may just be reading into a little. But the possibility was there. What was it she’d said exactly?
Sleepyhead, Zelda’s voice chided warmly.
Link flinched.
Chasing the echo from his ears, he looked down, hesitated for a long moment, then timidly called, ‘Fi?’
The sword spirit flipped free from the hilt of the Goddess Sword. ‘Yes, Master Link?’
‘I was… thinking that I should maybe have a break. For a few days, even,’ he explained carefully. ‘Do you… do you think that would be alright? What with the whole “grand destiny” thing?’
Fi’s neutral posture did not shift in the slightest, but somehow Link had the impression that she was… relieved? He couldn’t be sure; her tone was as calm and emotionless as ever as she responded, ‘I believe that would be wise, Master Link. As the old woman at the Sealed Grounds stated, there is no imminently impending catastrophe requiring your attention, and thus no requirement for excessive haste. Earlier today, Instructor Horwell also noted your poor health as well as the necessity of rest to facilitate the healing process. With these variables considered, it would be inadvisable indeed to rush into any new bouts of strenuous activity.’
‘And… and you don’t think I’m just…’ Link hesitated, then reluctantly concluded, ‘…Lazy?’
Fi paused.
As Link stood there, tentatively awaiting her judgement, he finally felt something stir, deep within – something he might have noticed long before, had he thought to look.
Irritation. Anger. Frustration. Shame. Emotions almost as strong as Link’s own, but distinctly not Link’s own, to the extent that his head instinctively whipped in the direction of his loftwing’s far-distant nesting place. He sent a psychic query and received one back, in the form of a confused warbling and pecking against the mental bond that they shared. In search of an answer, both turned their attentions curiously towards that small, dim third bond that they shared, all windchimes and soft blue light, and suddenly bright and loud in its righteous fury.
‘Lazy,’ Fi said evenly. ‘Adjective meaning disinclined to work, activity, or exertion. Master Link. Given progress to date, whether measured in total travel distance, total battles fought or averted, total useful data and insights collected or any other such metrics, weighed against interims of wilful and unnecessary inactivity – of which there have been notably few, if any, within the bounds of my observation – analysis indicates a less than one percent match between your behaviour and the implications of this term. It is therefore not a complaint with which you are compelled, in good faith, to engage.’
And as usual, there was nothing particularly emotional in the sound of Fi’s voice or in the carved lines of her face. But if Link considered the number of words, the length of those words, and above all, that simmering pool of agitation in the edges of his perception…
‘Huh,’ he said articulately. ‘You’re actually… you’re actually upset about this? And you’re telling the truth? You really feel like I’m… that I’m doing ok?’
Already, that burst of anger was being tucked away, shrivelling up beneath the weight of Link’s own scrutiny. ‘I have weighed the information at hand and produced evidence-based analysis, to the best of my ability,’ Fi informed him stolidly. ‘If you are dissatisfied with any matters regarding your progress to date, it can only be attributable to the ineptitude of your appointed guide and servant.’
With that flat, measured statement, Link felt his own anger spike. ‘That isn’t true at all, Fi!’ he argued. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. I mean… you’ve done everything right. I’m the one who –’
He thought back to that very moment he’d drawn the sword and lifted it above his head. There’d been something oddly childlike and wondering in the way Fi looked at him then. The way she’d breathed his name, as though uttering a prayer…
What had he said in response? He couldn’t even remember. Had it been anything close to that loving, indulgent look his loftwing had given him as their own soul-bond formed? Probably not. If that had truly been the moment their bond was formed, Fi must have been the only one of them to recognise it for what it was.
From the moment they’d first met, Link’s loftwing – Crimson, as he’d childishly dubbed it after hearing the others marvel at its plumage – had always been much bigger than him, both physically and within the nexus of their souls. In contrast, Fi’s own presence was tiny, flickering in and out as though hovering uncertainly on a threshold. It felt almost too fragile to hold, yet Link was terrified by the idea of letting it drop. He cradled it gently against himself, reaching out a hand at the same time to lightly, delicately touch the fluttering fabric of her physical form’s arm. Fi shivered lightly, but didn’t move away.
‘Fi?’ he asked carefully. ‘You’re not inept at all. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way.’
The curled up presence within his soul unfurled just a little in his senses, nudging tentatively at their bond.
‘Master Link,’ Fi said quietly. ‘For all that you may believe otherwise… I have never once been given reason to doubt your status as the chosen hero, or as the wielder of my blade and my soul. If I have truly done nothing wrong, then above all, that decision, to serve you, cannot itself be wrong. Can it?’
He smiled gently, taking his cue to move a little closer and hold a little tighter. ‘If you think it’s the right decision, then it must be,’ he informed her. ‘You’re much smarter than me, after all.’
The small, soul-bound presence paused to consider that, then pulsed with a tinge of complicated happiness. ‘Self-deprecation is not flattering, Master Link,’ Fi informed him aloud. She paused, then added. ‘It is, however, a known consequence of exhaustion. Thus, I must repeat my earlier recommendation regarding the cessation of wakeful activity in favour of restful slumber.’
Go to sleep, in other words. Link couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the roundabout request. He grinned at Fi, then turned towards his equipment stand and began to obligingly unbuckle his bandoliers once again.
‘And furthermore,’ the sword spirit continued fiercely, apparently not done after all, ‘if you recline and rest as advised, I will… as your servant, and in order to help you fall asleep, I will… I will tell you about frogs.’
Link paused. Sword and shield in hand, he turned to Fi once again. ‘Frogs?’ he repeated confusedly, unable to quite piece together the conversational path that had led them to that result.
Fi floated impassively in the air for a few moments. The tiny, fluttering presence in his mind faded once more, leaving the slightest impression of something that might have been embarrassment. ‘I… simply thought,’ she ventured quietly, ‘that you might… might want to hear about the frogs.’
Oh.
‘I see,’ said Link.
‘You do not have to hear about the frogs,’ Fi amended quickly. ‘This is not pertinent information for the achievement of your grand destiny, or indeed for the purpose of my own role within it. Kindly erase the suggestion from your memory banks.’
‘I don’t think humans can do that,’ Link pointed out brazenly. ‘Also, I wanna hear about the frogs. Would you like to tell me about the frogs, Fi?’
‘There is a less than point one percent probability that this knowledge will ever prove useful in any practical sense, Master Link.’
‘Sure. But do you want to tell it to me anyway?’
‘Master, I must reiterate: it is unnecessary for you to hear about the frogs. Kindly forgive the analytical processing error that gave rise to the suggestion.’
Link gave a surprised laugh. The bond between them shivered until he hastily pressed closer, cooing soothingly at her delicate presence. ‘Fi,’ he continued firmly, ‘it’s not an “analytical processing error” for you to be interested in something. It’s ok for you to be happy, you know?’
‘The human notion of happiness is unknown to me,’ Fi intoned, ‘as are all other such emotions. I am merely a servant to the Goddess Hylia, and therefore a servant to you as her chosen champion.’
A note of sadness echoed against the bond, but there was nothing of dishonesty within her words: it seemed Fi truly believed what she said, even if Link’s thin connection with her held more than enough proof to dispute it. He frowned. ‘Don’t be like that, Fi,’ he scolded. ‘You’re allowed to be happy. I’d prefer you were happy, in fact.’
Fi shifted distrustfully. ‘That is indeed a strange preference for you to hold, Master Link.’
‘Not my strangest preference,’ Link pointed out honestly, thoughts straying to a certain leotard-clad demon – and then, inexplicably, to a certain red-haired childhood bully.
Not the point. Definitely not the point.
‘Tell me about the frogs, Fi,’ he demanded instead.
Fi hesitated. ‘Is that… an order, Master?’ she asked tentatively.
Link considered. ‘Yes,’ he landed on, soon enough. ‘Fi. As your master, I order you to tell me about the frogs… unless you really don’t want to, that is.’
Fi gave a small, cautious nod. Link had the faint impression of something brightening, unfurling itself, within their bond. ‘As a simple construct created by the Goddess in support of her destined champion, I have no “wants” beyond the successful achievement of my core purpose,’ she informed him nonetheless. Before Link could object, she pressed onwards, ‘As a result, I will of course proceed to tell you about the frogs. Imminently. And comprehensively. Please be aware, however, noting your current exhaustion levels and my observation of such, that it is socially acceptable for you to fall asleep at any moment of your choosing within this recitation, and that this will not result in any affront on my part. Now. With that qualification being what it is. While the word “amphibian” commonly refers to any animal which can survive both underwater and on land, taxonomically it covers four orders, of which the anura, or frog, specifically includes short-bodied, tailless amphibians, which are typically –’
And for as long as he could manage to stay awake, Link listened carefully, storing as many frog facts as he plausibly could within his theoretical “memory banks”. Good intentions aside however, he couldn’t help but be lulled to sleep by the pleasant reverberations of the two satisfied soul bonds within his heart, and by the soothing rhythms of a sentient blade’s increasingly emphatic infodump.
She’d just have to repeat the rest again later. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind.
One or two conversations had clearly happened behind his back, because in lieu of the usual complaining about him sleeping past breakfast, Henya arrived at Link’s room late the next morning with a tray of food and a fresh mug of tea. She stayed long enough to fuss about with taking his temperature and rearranging his blankets until she was reassured of his comfort and (relative) wellbeing, then left with a scolding and a few choice threats about what would happen to Link should he dare to leave his bed without permission. Bemused as he was by the coddling, Link didn’t argue. Instead, he took the opportunity to peruse the incredibly dense, longwinded text that Gorko had generously provided.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, once he got past the initial barrier of the tome’s archaic language. In fact, it was actually rather interesting to learn about the design and history of the instrument. Fi seemed to agree, if the way she hovered curiously at his side, blank gaze equally fixated on the pages, was any indication.
Both of them jolted and looked up when a knock at the door announced Henya’s return, this time carrying lunch and another dose of medicine.
A few days passed in that fashion, and by the end of it, Link was feeling far better than he had in a long time, peaceful academy days included. Within that time, he’d also managed to hyper-focus his way into memorising two and a half octaves worth of saxophone finger movements – for all that he’d complied with Fi’s reasonable suggestion to hold off on straining his weakened lungs until he was somewhat recovered.
Of course, theory didn’t translate exactly into results as far as that second half of the matter was concerned.
‘It just doesn’t sound right,’ he grumbled to Fi, two hours of fruitless practice later.
Several noise complaints (Henya’s sympathies having quickly reverted, it seemed, to pre-sickness levels) had driven the two of them away from the cosy Academy interior and to the sunlit Goddess Statue exterior, where Link was free to honk and toot to his heart’s content, occasionally accompanied by a vaguely mocking squawk from the crimson loftwing that had deigned play test audience.
Opinionated soul-bound avians aside (thanks a bunch), Link could tell he had made at least some progress, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when Fi merely hummed and responded, ‘Overall tonality has improved by a factor of approximately eighty percent over the past three days, Master Link, which is a pleasing result. You have also demonstrated a strong musical ear, which should enable further advancement at a steady pace. Thus, may I instead recommend a break? And perhaps a visit to the bazaar? Acquisition of a replacement reed may, with approximately fifty-eight percent probability, measurably improve the Goddess Saxophone’s audio output.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Link. He stowed the saxophone back inside his pouch. ‘And while I’m there, I should probably restock my potions.’
‘A valid observation. I also note the damage dealt to your iron shield. Repair or replacement is advised.’
‘Oh. Right. And while I’m at it, maybe I should check if Rupin has one that’s less…’ He winced. ‘Conducive to electricity?’
‘…That is indeed sensible, Master Link.’
As they walked, Link leaned gently into the part of his soul that the new and already precious bond with Fi occupied. Even relaxed as it had become over the past few days, the connection remained delicate and muted. Some of that was surely Link’s own fault, for how he’d inadvertently neglected their newly-formed bond, some was perhaps the newness itself, which left room to grow and mature over time into as strong a bond as the one between human and loftwing. He suspected a large part of it was merely Fi’s own personality: her caution, her preference for logic above emotion, and perhaps her inability to even recognise her own emotions, sensitive as she seemed to Link’s moods. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about that part in particular: that, intentionally or not, he must have been one-sidedly blasting his own emotions at her ever since their meeting, without ever listening for hers.
As if she’d overheard the thought, Fi’s side of the bond gave a subtle, reassuring nudge. It wasn’t quite “affection” in the way Crimson typically communicated such things, but it was somewhere within that same ballpark. He met her with his own wordless pressure, and extended a similar greeting to the bright red loftwing still circling above, receiving the mental equivalent of a wing cuff over his head in response. A loftwing’s visual impression of his own haggard, splotchy red face, filthy tunic and trembling hands was shoved through their bond, accompanied with a loud cry of complaint.
‘Yeesh,’ Link muttered to himself. ‘Overexert yourself and return to the sky with a crispy hide and a couple of stab wounds one time.’
An indignant squawk sounded from above, while a metallic ring echoed across Fi’s own connection with his soul.
‘Right. The fever, too,’ Link conceded, and revelled cheekily in the two sets of exasperated complaints he received.
Yep. Link could get used to having two soul bonds, he decided.
Several spare reeds and a new “sacred shield” in hand, Link ambled over to the Item Check, raising a hand in greeting.
The gesture went unnoticed as the clerk continued to stare blankly off to one side, head resting on her cupped hand. Link waited a few moments more, then cleared his throat politely.
The clerk jolted. ‘Oh! Hello! Welcome to the Item Check!’ she said automatically, only to jolt once again, hands flying to her mouth, as her eyes settled on Link’s face. ‘Oh. I, uhh… w-welcome…’
Link looked at her curiously. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
The clerk gave a nervous chuckle. ‘Um… nothing!’ she replied hastily. ‘There’s nothing wrong. It’s not like “Oh, hey, that guy’s back! I’m so happy!” or anything like that…’ She hesitated, face turned to the side and eyes flickering between Link and the back of her shop. ‘But,’ she went on cagily, ‘if you think about how often we meet, you have to admit that our relationship has gone beyond employee and customer, you know?’
…Had it?
Link tilted his head, staring closely into the woman’s face and trying desperately to recall where and when he and the Item Check clerk, whose name he couldn’t quite pinpoint, might have met outside of the Item Check itself. He was relatively sure the woman didn’t reside at the Academy, or anywhere near it, so… maybe she was one of Zelda’s friends?
Had Link been introduced to her at one point and simply forgotten about it? It was… possible, he supposed?
As Link continued to not say anything, the woman seemed to shrivel where she sat. ‘Oh, no! I didn’t mean to… what am I saying?! Please forget everything I just said, ok?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Alright. Get it together. Be professional.’ She lifted her eyes once more, a tentative smile on her face. ‘So. Do you have anything you want me to hold on to?’
‘Uh… yeah. Sure,’ Link offered cautiously. He held out his damaged iron shield. ‘Can you stow this one for me? Box three-eight-four.’
‘Of course. Of course,’ the woman said rapidly. ‘I – I know the one. Uh, let me just –’
‘Well, that was weird,’ Link concluded several awkward minutes later as he walked out of the bazaar and set course for the Isle of the Goddess. He hummed thoughtfully to himself. ‘I wonder what her problem was? Should I have recognised her?’
Fi buzzed lightly at him. The woman you encountered just then is called Peatrice, she relayed helpfully. During the day, you can store pouch items with her at the Item Check. I sense that you do not have any connection with her outside of frequent visits to the bazaar. Nonetheless, she is a sweet, kind-hearted person who is currently dreaming about meeting her ideal male companion.
Link halted. ‘“Sweet”? “Kind-hearted”?’ he repeated dubiously. Rare enough for Fi to express an opinion so plainly, not to mention – ‘Wait. “Dreaming about meeting her ideal male companion”?! Fi, are you trying to matchmake me, or what?’
Fi startled. That is… well. It had been. A mere observation. I certainly… forgive me, Master Link. I am not sure where that came from.
Link considered. ‘Well. Better her than Groo– than Ghirahim, I suppose,’ he pointed out, forcibly redirecting his wayward thoughts mid-ambush.
…Yes. Certainly. Comparatively. One must, however, note the low-to-absent imperative for either such choice, Master Link.
‘True,’ he allowed.
They walked in silence for a few moments while Link mulled over this new revelation.
‘She is kind of pretty, though, come to think of it,’ he appended thoughtfully. ‘And while I don’t really know much about her personality, she seems nice enough. And don’t you think she seemed, like, really into me? Not to be narcissistic about it, or anything. And the way she got all shy just talking to me? So cute. And how she tugged her ponytail until her scarf fell off and then she just squeaked and turned red and hid under the counter? And that extremely kissable mole on her cheek? Mmm… yep. Would date. Absolutely. Thoughts and opinions, my dear and very pointy friend?’
Something vaguely disgruntled rolled over their bond. Human affection is fickle indeed, it seems, and conspicuously so in your own case. I will note this for future reference.
Link hummed understandingly. ‘Fi,’ he asked, ‘are you calling me a man-whore?’
Common nouns “whore” and “man”. A person of male gender who engages in sex acts in exchange for money. Having witnessed no such receipt of funds — or, indeed, having noted the payment of funds, albeit negligible amounts relating to item storage fees, by the male in question towards the other individual – I can only conclude that such a term would be an inappropriate description of – ah. In retrospect, I recognise the colloquial intent of your phrasing, Master Link.
‘Oh.’ He chuckled self-consciously. ‘Yeah, it was a joke. Forgot you’re kinda literal at times. But don’t worry: saxophone practice comes first. And saving Zelda. Dating can happen after that, if at all. Anyway: I’m thinking we head back to the Sealed Grounds tomorrow. Sound good?’
Yes, Master Link, Fi responded. You have recovered well, it seems, though greater caution will be necessary from this point onwards. I will endeavour to monitor your vitals more closely.
‘Sure. And I’ll try to do a better job at listening to you as well, Fi.’
They continued onwards in peaceful silence, with Crimson still circling overhead. Several of the loftwing’s wingbeats passed before the sword spirit spoke up once more, voice and psychic bond both thick with reluctance. Apologies, Master Link, but in good conscience, I must regrettably disclose, she said slowly, that my failure of comprehension was, in this case at least… also a joke.
Link froze mid-step, utterly shocked, completely betrayed and deeply, fiendishly delighted by this development. ‘Fi!’ he gasped. ‘Why, you –!’
‘Something is definitely missing,’ Link declared after another few hours of practice.
Crimson squawked. Fi nodded thoughtfully. ‘Indeed, Master,’ she agreed. ‘As stated in the introduction, detailed in Chapter Four and referenced throughout Sacrede Instrumentes ofe Olde Swinge ande Bluese, improvisations form a large and defining feature of the jazz genre. It is therefore insufficient to simply play the tune as written, and instead necessary to –’
‘No, that’s not quite it!’ Link argued vehemently, accidentally interrupting Fi in his enthusiasm. Oops.
Thankfully, she appeared unoffended. ‘What is it, then, Master?’ she asked instead.
‘Well… improvisation is part of it, I guess…’ he hedged, ‘but when I think of Zelda, playing this very saxophone in this very – no! Hold on.’
‘Yes, Master?’
He held up the saxophone. ‘I only just thought of it, but does this… count as an indirect kiss?’ he said dubiously. ‘Should I have cleaned it first? I mean, do you think she was… expecting me to clean this first? Is it bad that I didn’t? As in, like… consent issues, or something?’
Fi’s brow quirked slightly. ‘While belated sanitisation is indeed advised, “consent issues” or no,’ she allowed, ‘I cannot help but note the departure from core topic.’
‘Oh. Right. Well, definitely remind me to give this thing a bath later, but –’
‘I shall indeed.’
‘– Thinking of Zelda and how she played this instrument, back when I watched her do it…’ Link trailed off thoughtfully. Certainly, as Fi said, jazz improvisations were a large part of how her performance differed from his. But beyond that… ‘Hip thrusts,’ he mused. ‘She did those, I think? No, definitely! She did!’
‘…Hip thrusts?’
‘Or, like… the whole pelvis. Like this. Hah! Hyah! Zah!’
Fi appeared unimpressed by the demonstration. ‘Master Link. If anything, I would think such movements detrimental and distracting to the task of –’
‘No, no. It’s important,’ Link said fiercely. ‘But, no, that’s not it either… there’s definitely something else. Something else I’m missing. I think –’
In a sudden flash of inspiration, it came to him. ‘That’s it!’ he said excitedly. ‘Sunglasses!’
‘…Sunglasses, Master Link?’ Fi queried. She paused. ‘That… is your conclusion?’
‘Sunglasses,’ Link confirmed with the utter confidence of a man who is utterly, undeniably correct, since that was utterly, undeniably what he, as an utterly, undeniably correct man, was. He hastened to explain, ‘See, everything was so hectic back at the Gate of Time that Zelda must’ve just forgotten to hand them over, but there were definitely sunglasses back when she played all those times before. Back here, and at the spring too. And they were definitely a necessary, central part of the whole performance.’
There was a long, thoughtful pause as Fi absorbed his enlightened thesis. A trace of doubt (huh?) slipped through their bond. ‘Master,’ she began carefully, ‘protective eyewear does not typically endow… that is, I really think –’
‘No, trust me,’ Link insisted. ‘Zelda was always wearing sunglasses when she played.’
Crimson gave a warble of assent. Fi continued to say nothing.
Fine. Link could be patient. Sure, Fi didn’t seem to need to blink, but that didn’t mean Link couldn’t win a stare-off against her. He was stubborn like that when he wanted to be. He wasn’t backing down; he was right.
‘The bazaar will likely close soon,’ Fi conceded inevitably. ‘There is an eighty percent probability that the general store can supply the equipment you seek. Whether strictly necessary or not.’
‘Hell yeah! Let’s go!’
The sky was painted in gorgeous pinks and oranges and the sun was well on its leisurely way beneath the clouds as Link reached his destination and paused to offer a bow and silent prayer to the towering figure of the goddess Hylia, divine mother and protector of all who lived in Skyloft. He then rose, reached into his pocket and produced a fresh pair of bright pink, heart-shaped sunglasses.
Link slipped them onto his face.
The power of jazz rushed through his body. Raising the (freshly bathed, newly reeded) saxophone to his lips came as naturally as breathing, and there was no hesitation whatsoever as he let the gorgeous, sexy tones and ssssick beats of the Ballad of the Goddess flow through his lungs and fingers, flawless improvisations, pelvic thrusts and all.
He played for several long minutes before it even occurred to him to stop. Even then, it was not without regret that he lowered the saxophone, pried the cheap, poorly made and quite possibly haunted novelty glasses from his face and turned to Fi with a quiet exhalation of relief.
‘See?’ he said triumphantly. ‘Sunglasses. That’s all there was to it.’
Fi was quiet for a long moment. At last, she stated calmly, ‘I cannot detect any magical signatures or sentient auras in those lenses, which is, at face value… remarkable. At least, in the context of… whatever that was.’
‘You mean they’re just normal glasses?’ Link wondered. ‘That’s weird. Because I definitely felt like the personified power of jazz possessed me for a moment there… unless it’s some kind of… demonic placebo effect?’
‘That is… possible,’ Fi allowed. ‘Indeed, I calculate a… five percent probability that such a phenomenon has indeed resulted in an unusually rapid improvement in your musical talents. Though if I had not personally borne witness, it seems to me that that probability would have been calculated at… a lower threshold. Much lower, in fact.’ She halted. ‘It seems there are… that there are many phenomena in this world which remain outside the boundaries of my analytical capabilities. I will recalibrate my expectations accordingly.’
‘Hey. It’s not such a bad thing, right?’ Link said brightly. ‘I’m always “recalibrating my expectations”. Who even knows what might happen from here? Hell, maybe we’ll discover some new frogs along the way! And then you can taxidermise… I mean… taxonomise? You can do taxonomy with them to your heart’s content.’
‘That… sounds pleasant. And largely pointless. It is unlikely that such a task will prove necessary, Master Link.’
‘How unlikely?’
‘I am in the process of recalibrating those expectations, Master Link,’ Fi confirmed, ‘thus it is not feasible for me to provide an accurate estimation.’
Link shrugged. ‘Works for me. Back to Grooseland tomorrow, then?’
‘…Back to Grooseland tomorrow, as you say.’
Chapter 6: Self-Satisfied Sword Affirmations
Summary:
Link wakes up in ADHD go-mode. Link plays the Goddess Saxophone. Link doesn't play the Goddess Harp, because that would be ridiculous. Link fights a giant, scaly avocado and forces it back to the netherworld, thus presumably entitling him to house ownership. Fi approves.
Notes:
New chapter! Back on my bullshit! The fingies are mostly healed: success!
If you’re confused about why I gave Groose's Grannie a new instrument, it’s just that I think humming the melody to a song you canonically do not know the lyrics to while an obnoxiously loud solo instrument blasts that same tune directly into your wrinkled thousand-year-old-ish face is an exceptionally sad thing to do. Also: if they're so important, why does she canonically not know the lyrics? Git gud, old bag.
Chapter Text
Against all odds and past experiences, when Link woke up the next day – entirely of his own accord – he not only felt awake for once, but was even on time for breakfast. He turned through the last few pages of Gorko’s book while he ate, then placed it carefully in his pouch, washed his dishes and set out.
It was a beautiful, clear day: perfect for flying. Even Fi seemed cheerful, if only in the form of a subtle, contented humming over their soul bond. Not without regret, the two of them bade farewell to Crimson and dropped down through the green pillar of light.
To Link’s surprise, Gorko was still present, though he’d moved closer to the temple. Link changed course at the last moment, veering off from the bird statue to instead drop neatly down beside his new friend.
Gorko turned to face him, expression brightening as their gazes met. ‘If it isn’t Link!’ he called happily. ‘Are you feeling any better, bud? You certainly seem more energetic!’
Something in Link, echoed by a light vibration from Fi, warmed at the genuine gladness in Gorko’s tone. ‘I’m feeling much better. Thanks,’ he confirmed shyly. ‘And, uh. Thanks for the book, as well.’ He reached into his pouch and offered the hefty tome back to its owner.
Gorko tucked the book back into his pack, casting a speculative glance between Link and the blue butterflies fluttering nearby. ‘So, then…? As for what we were discussing previously… have you, by any chance, made any progress with that instrument of yours?’
Link grinned. ‘You wanna see I’ve learnt?’
Gorko’s face lit up. He gave a vigorous nod. Link fished the sunglasses from his belt, fixed them to his face and lifted the Goddess Saxophone to his lips.
Several jazz solos and a thunderous round of applause later, a thoroughly self-satisfied Link swaggered into the ancient, ruined temple.
The old woman paused to scrutinise him as he approached. ‘It seems your musical talents have blossomed, after all,’ she remarked.
‘Oh.’ Link looked down at the shining instrument, then back over to the door he’d entered from. ‘Right. Yeah. Guess that would’ve been fairly audible for you too, huh?’
‘…Over here, then, would you?’
Link walked obligingly to the area she indicated and stood there, watching curiously, as the old woman steepled her fingers, made a few quick gestures and chanted to herself. With a sudden puff of smoke, a large, triangular box with two rows of black and white stripes appeared at her side, followed by a low bench that she began to slowly and carefully lift herself onto.
Link gaped. ‘What in the – huh? What is that? Where did that come from?!’
‘This is a harpsichord. A musical instrument, similar to your Goddess Saxophone,’ she responded calmly. ‘Summoned through Sheikah spatial magic, naturally, which operates similarly to that pouch of yours.’
‘Oh,’ Link said faintly. ‘Alright then.’
The harpsichord did not seem particularly like a saxophone, nor did it seem particularly like something that would feasibly have fit inside his adventure pouch, exceptional construction of the latter aside (and really, Fledge deserved a whole world of credit for that), but he supposed those small details were largely beside the point for the moment. More importantly: hadn’t he seen that instrument before somewhere?
He looked a little closer and belatedly placed it as one of the other instruments mentioned in Gorko’s book. Thinking back, he’d even seen a picture, and a few diagrams, though he hadn’t realised it would be so large in –
‘Hold on. I’m not gonna have to learn that one too, am I?!’ Link demanded. ‘Don’t tell me it’s some kind of, like… Goddess Harpsichord, or whatever?’
The old woman frowned. ‘Goddess Harp–? No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.’ She cleared her throat and explained, ‘Although the Goddess Saxophone is a powerful instrument on its own, its effects are amplified when combined with other instruments, or with a voice. As such: may I request a concert B Fla–? Oh… that is… could I ask you to play a C on your –?’
‘I know what concert pitch is!’ Link snapped. ‘Page three hundred and five and all that!’
‘…What?’
Nose tilted upwards in a rare bout of entirely justified pride, Link played a C, waited for the harpsichord’s belated B Flat, and then twisted the saxophone’s mouthpiece slightly and blew again, comparing the two pitches in his head. One final, delicate twist, and they were a perfect match.
‘…You do indeed learn quickly. As… expected, I suppose. Well,’ the old woman said, sounding vaguely thrown. She gave a light cough. ‘In that case. I’ll play a four-bar introduction, then you can join with the main melody. The circle of light beneath your feet will count you in, though of course the soloist sets the pace… I will do my best to follow.’
With Link’s nod of assent, she began to play, and the circle of stone flooring beneath Link’s feet pulsed in three-four time. The familiar melody of the Ballad of the Goddess was played far slower than he’d expected, sounding almost mournful in the odd, twangy tones of the harpsichord. As he joined in and took over the tune, he couldn’t help but pick the pace up a little – or a lot, really (deal with it, old bag). His accompanist adapted easily enough, and the glowing circle of light seemed to pulse with enthusiasm of its own.
Something shifted behind him as he approached the end of the song. He turned his neck slightly and watched as a thick, rectangular block of faintly shimmering dark stone rose from the floor. It settled firmly into place as he distractedly concluded the song with a few long trills and a short, emphatic note matched perfectly by the harpsichord. He lowered the saxophone from his lips and stared.
‘The great slab standing before you is known as a Gate of Time,’ the old woman intoned. ‘It is the last of its kind in existence. The only portal binding our world to the one where Zelda now resides.’
Link frowned as he continued to study the block of stone. It didn’t really look like a gate – not like the one he remembered from Lanayru, at least. Though it did seem oddly familiar…
Fi chimed at him. The gate appears to be inactive at present, similar to the state of the Lanayru Gate of Time upon our initial arrival, she explained, and oh: that made sense.
Upon finding the way into the Temple of Time barred, Link had tried to scout the area with his Beetle. It was hard to be sure given the limited range of the device, but he thought he remembered seeing something similar.
‘If you manage to open the gate and pass through, you will likely end up in the same place as Zelda,’ the old woman continued placidly, ‘but you will need to endure many hardships and put yourself in great danger to awaken the gate from its dormant state. Though your journey will put you in harm’s way, Link… you must endure. It is your fate as the chosen hero of the godde–’
She and Link both jolted as a ghastly roar reverberated through the temple. The harpsichord gave a sharp twang of complaint as the stone floor shuddered beneath them.
‘This shaking…’ the old woman murmured uneasily. ‘I fear the seal has been broken. I expected that it would react to your summoning the gate, but I never imagined the seal would break so quickly.’ She lifted her head. ‘Link,’ she said urgently. ‘There will be time to explain later. Right now, you must hurry to the bottom of the pit outside.’
‘R-right,’ Link replied shakily. He dashed towards the main exit, pulling the saxophone’s neck strap over his head as he ran. He shoved it into his pouch and reached for the doors, only for them to open on their own.
‘Whoa!’ said Groose, jolting backwards. ‘L-Link? You’re back? You look – never mind.’
He shifted aside to let Link pass. The two of them – plus Fi – made their way over to the cliff and peered down at the cloud of dark smoke rising from below.
‘What’s with all the shaking?’ Groose demanded. ‘The whole ground is heaving… I thought it was supposed to be solid down here!’
‘So did I,’ Link said grimly.
Fi leapt free to hover at his side, also staring downwards. ‘Master Link,’ she began uneasily, ‘the aura of a powerful and extremely hostile monster fills the entire area. I have no details on this monster as of yet, but the battlefield is quite large, so monitor your stamina gauge closely.’
‘Monitor my what now?’
‘Conservation of energy is advised,’ she translated helpfully.
‘Oh. Sure. Good idea.’
‘Go quickly, Link,’ a voice from behind them called urgently. Link turned to see the old woman hobbling outside. ‘Check on the sealing spike at the centre of the pit. There is nothing natural about these tremors. That monster could free itself at any moment. Approach the pit with caution!’
Link steeled his nerves and gave a quick, sharp nod. ‘Nothing for it, then,’ he muttered to himself, and dashed forwards, ignoring Groose’s startled cry and belated motion towards him as he plunged over the side of the cliff, opening his sailcloth at the last moment to land lightly on the balls of his feet. He sprang upwards immediately and continued to dash forward, dropping down through the spiralling cliffs of the Sealed Grounds, one by one, until he reached the lowest level.
The ground shook beneath him like the beating of a drum. The sealing spike and its radius of swirling, ink-like patterns were shrouded beneath a veil of black smog. As Link approached, the winding tendrils thickened and surged higher, until, with cacophonous shriek, the ground seemed to drop away into a circle of pure moonless, starless night.
An immense form covered in gleaming black scales rose from the void, twisting and thrashing its body and snapping its jaws at the heavens. As Link watched, the black smoke dissipated and the ground beneath the monster’s thick, stubby feet turned solid once again. It lowered its eyeless face towards Link and opened its massive jaws, uttering a raspy, guttural noise as it raised its left leg and took a slow, careful step forward.
Link took an instinctive step backwards. ‘I’ve… seen that thing before. Haven’t I?’ he murmured.
Not just once or twice, either: he must have seen that creature countless times, in those recurring nightmares that had haunted the weeks leading up to Zelda’s fall. Yet with the real thing finally in front of him, those mental images seemed hollow and meaningless: there was no comparing them to the sheer dread that suffused each of the monster’s slow steps forward.
Master Link? Fi called sharply, shaking him from his daze. He jolted, then steadied himself, scanning carefully over the monster’s form as he called, ‘Fi. What is that thing? Do you know?’
Target lock: the Imprisoned, Fi responded. I have insufficient data on this monster. Its enormous size and ominous aura cannot be compared with previously encountered monsters.
‘Insufficient data?’ he repeated.
There was a faint twinge of shame in the nexus of their souls as Fi added, This is all the information I have at the present time.
He pressed a slightly distracted wave of reassurance against the bond, taking a few steps back as he scrutinised the monster once again. Glancing far above, he could see something lodged into the monster’s forehead – something that looked suspiciously like the sealing spike from before. It was far out of reach, of course, even if it was of any use to him. Below, however, there was a more obvious target: the one spot that the beast’s thick, metallic scales didn’t cover. Link steeled his nerves and dashed forwards, sword aimed at the thick white toes of the towering beast.
The flesh parted readily beneath his blade, bursting like a hideous pimple full of purple fluid after a few quick strikes. Link pressed his advantage and swung once again, only to jerk instinctively backwards at a warning chime from Fi.
Electricity crackled around the damaged limb, surging and snapping at Link even as he leapt out of range. An unnerving fizzing against his skin told him he’d made it just in time.
As the electricity faded, he warily approached once again, cutting away the remaining toes on that foot and then shifting to the other one. Finally, he darted through those gigantic legs and stabbed viciously at the beast’s reversed toes, placed like his loftwing’s back talon.
The monster shook, crying another unearthly roar at the heavens. It took another step, then stumbled and fell, dropping down onto its belly with no arms or wings to halt its descent. Link took his chance and dashed ahead, eyes fixed on the sealing spike.
‘Here goes nothing,’ he muttered, and slammed the flat of Fi’s blade into the spike like a hammer.
Sacred light burst outwards, spilling across those black scales, and for a moment, the beast’s enormous, terrifying presence – not its physical form, but something in that pressure against Link’s trembling muscles and taut lungs – seemed to waver and shrink.
The light dissipated, then turned a bright, fiery red. The monster snarled and began to squirm and wriggle forwards.
Fi pulsed a sudden alarm in his senses, but Link was already turning and running.
Not fast enough.
Those long, blade-like teeth were almost at Link’s ankles when he instinctively opened his sailcloth to catch an updraft, barely dodging its assault. He crouched atop the cliff, gasping for air and for courage as he watched the monster squirm its way up the cliffs at an alarming pace.
‘Wha– how am I supposed to stop it now?!’ Link cried. He wavered in place, glancing back up the cliff as he weighed the small part of him that burned to rush forward and fight against the far larger, far more sensible part that wanted to run screaming in the other direction.
Fi faltered briefly, then replied, Given the Imprisoned’s physical features… I believe it unlikely that the beast can sustain this speed indefinitely.
‘It doesn’t have to do it indefinitely,’ Link pointed out desperately. ‘If it reaches the temple –’
He halted there, suddenly confused. What exactly would happen if it reached the temple? He hadn’t actually been told that, had he? And maybe that would be a better vantage point; maybe the solid stone would even stop it in its tracks. Maybe –
A surge of golden light. An agonised scream. A figure in a white dress, suspended in amber –
Link shuddered and gasped as he surfaced from the sudden, sickening whirl of images that had flashed by too fast for him to make sense of them. ‘Wh… what was that?!’ he wheezed.
Master, Fi called urgently.
Link dragged his attention back to the monster. Just as Fi had suggested, its frantic pace was finally slowing. With an almost disgruntled wiggle, it halted completely, scales shifting back to a silky black sheen as it waddled awkwardly back onto its feet. Link sucked in a breath, gathered his courage, and darted forwards.
Electricity surged around the Imprisoned’s body while it screeched and howled in place. As the noise petered off and it dropped its head once again, Link noticed that the sealing spike was once again jutting loose from whatever passed for the monster’s forehead. He looked down and watched a set of stubbly toes reemerge from the ruined stumps.
The monster took a slow, inexorable step forward.
‘Rinse and repeat, I guess,’ Link concluded tersely.
Indeed, Master, Fi confirmed. She added, If you are able to get between the monster’s toes, my analysis indicates you can effectively inflict great damage with a spin attack. You can also choose to decrease your risk of physical harm by using bombs to attack from a distance.
‘Bombs? Oh. Yeah, good idea,’ he agreed, hurriedly reaching for his bomb bag. Thankfully, he’d restocked before leaving the Earth Temple.
The explosives turned out to be far less effective than either of them had hoped, if only due to the monster’s immense size and the bombs’ slow fuses. Link swore as his fourth attempt merely rolled right past the Imprisoned’s feet and continued down the slope, failing to take out even one target on its way. The fifth didn’t even ignite, perhaps damaged in some way (just his luck, apparently). It followed its kin downhill.
‘This isn’t working,’ Link hissed to himself, echoed by a buzz of reluctant agreement from Fi as they reverted to the time-honoured method of violent stabbing instead.
The Imprisoned fell once again, and this time, Link was ready. He dashed over and pummelled the sealing spike with all his might, driving it right back into the monster’s head. Anxiety burned through him as it predictably responded with yet another powerful surge of speed, yet Fi’s own presence remained calm and confident, pulsing a repetitive rhythm over their bond that gradually soothed his own heartrate.
‘It’s slowing down,’ he observed eventually, and took his cue to approach.
The sealing spike pushed outwards and those thick, stubby toes regenerated once again, yet there was something vaguely desperate about its movements this time: each step faster and faster, with red-tinged electricity surging in every motion. Link did his best to balance speed with caution, hyper-aware of just how little space was left between the temple and the monster’s gaping jaws. Static buzzed warningly up his sword arm with each near-miss, but he managed to avoid any serious shocks through a mix of his own focus and Fi’s calming rhythms and gentle nudges.
‘This had better finish it,’ he hissed through gritted teeth as the beast fell once again – and, wonder of all wonders: it did.
With one final, desperate blow against the sealing spike, pure white light consumed that gigantic form, abruptly muting its plaintive wailing. The enormous form burst in a spray of dark scales that hovered in the air for a moment and then fell downwards, sucked inexorably into the centre of the pit.
Link followed cautiously after, sheathing his sword to use his sailcloth then drawing it again as he touched the ground.
Fi flipped free, staring, as Link did, at the sealing spike that hovered just above a small, blackened mark on the ground.
‘According to my analysis,’ Fi remarked conversationally, ‘the sealing process can be completed with a well-aimed Skyward Strike.’
Link nodded. ‘Of course.’
He held his sword high, closing his eyes as he focused on the energy building within the blade. When Fi gave a ping of confirmation, he opened his eyes once again and swung the blade downwards, unleashing the burst of divine power.
Something stirred at the edges of his mind. Without really thinking about it, he swung the blade a few more times and then jabbed it downwards, following a path that felt just as routine as navigating the familiar corridors of Skyloft’s Knight Academy.
The sealing spike buried itself back into the earth and a set of black lines spiralled outwards, painting the circular seal back into place.
Link paused to catch his breath. He cast a startled look down at the hand still clutching Fi’s blade. ‘H-how did I… how did I know how to do that?’ he panted.
Fi stared down at him, unblinking as ever. After a few more moments of silence, she inclined her head, then flipped away, back into her blade. He sighed, and reluctantly sheathed it once again.
With the immediate danger past, Link let his eyes stray across the scene, catching on a small, round, blue object. He frowned, then strode over and gave the fallen bomb flower a cautious nudge with his foot. Dubious scientific method aside, it showed no signs of igniting. Instead, he could see green sprouts pushing through the blue petals.
‘It’s growing,’ he was startled to realise. ‘Huh.’
Heavy footsteps drew his attention back to the cliffs. He looked up as Groose dashed closer and opened his mouth to speak –
‘Nice going, Link,’ the old woman called instead.
Link and Groose both turned to her.
‘Though the Imprisoned had only just begun to awaken and break its bonds, I’m impressed you were able to restore the seal keeping it captive,’ she went on. ‘Unfortunately, you have only succeeded in buying us a little more time in which to act.
‘The behemoth you beat back into confinement is a horror of unspeakable power. Judging by what I saw, I would not be surprised if the seal gave way again soon, so you are left with precious little time to complete the task with which you have been entrusted.’ She sighed. ‘Return to the Sealed Temple, Link. There is much to discuss.’
The old woman slowly began to make her way back up the cliffs. Link cast a quick look over at Groose – whose own gaze skated downwards, as if entirely fascinated by the sprouted bomb flower – and then followed after.
The temple’s custodian led him back to the dormant Gate of Time. ‘As you can see,’ she intoned, ‘the gate is nothing more than a slab of cold stone for now. It is sleeping. Rousing it from its slumber would require great power. Yes, I believe a shot of holy light from your Skyward Strike might just do it… ah. Sorry to disappoint you, boy, but for now, your sword lacks the power necessary to awaken the gate. First, you and your sword must grow together.’
Link couldn’t help but feel slightly disgruntled on Fi’s behalf. ‘What do you even mean by that?’ he asked suspiciously.
The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched. ‘Faron Woods… Eldin Volcano… and Lanayru Desert,’ she listed. ‘A sacred flame is hidden somewhere in each of these lands. Seek them out, and purify your sword in their heat. Only after your blade has been tempered by these three fires will it be fully imbued with the great power for which you search.’
Link frowned. ‘I already know a blacksmith,’ he pointed out. ‘If Fi needs tempering, why wouldn’t I take her to an expert?’
The old woman’s expression twitched once again. She gave a light cough, then continued, ‘Clues to finding the sacred flames have been woven into the lyrics of a song precious to your people: the Ballad of the Godd–’
‘It has lyrics?’ Link interrupted loudly, train of thought thoroughly disrupted. He pulled his saxophone from his pouch and brandished it as he demanded, ‘What was the point of this, then?’
‘The lyrics of the Ballad of the Goddess are your best hope of finding your way to the flames,’ the old woman went on tiredly, having seemingly decided to ignore all protests.
Well, fine. ‘Can you tell me the lyrics then?’ Link suggested with equal patience.
The woman shook her head. ‘Return to Skyloft,’ she instructed. ‘Somewhere on your island is one whose knowledge of this old song will point you in the right direction.’
Link shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he conceded. He started to turn back towards the forest exit, then halted and swivelled back to Groose.
His old childhood bully granted him an ironic smirk and a helpless shrug. ‘All on you now, I guess, shrimp,’ he said without heat. ‘I hate even sayin’ this, but I guess you got it all figured out, Grannie. Me? Well, there’s nothin’ I can do to help Zelda. I’m useless.’
The old woman gave a small smile. ‘Ah. You sell yourself short, my friend. You’ll see in time that you have your own role to play in all this.’
Groose snorted, giving a vague wave as he approached the pit-side exit, yanked the door open and strode outside.
The old woman turned back to Link. ‘Go now,’ she urged. ‘Trust in fate to guide your feet. Your mission depends on it, as does Zelda’s fate.’
Link hesitated, staring at the door. Some insane part of him felt a weird twinge of guilt, imagining the gloomy muscle-head on the other side.
‘He’ll… be ok, right?’ he asked half-heartedly. Quickly, he appended, ‘Not that it’s any of my business or anything, but… you know. Actually: never mind. I’ll just… bye.’
As was starting to become an unfortunate habit, Link moved towards the other set of doors with perhaps slightly more haste than was warranted.
A vaguely judgemental stare followed his departure. He ignored it as best he could.
‘Back to the skies, I guess,’ he commented to Fi in a slightly rueful tone. ‘You know, I actually kinda thought that was… maybe it. Like that we’d open up the Gate of Time, find Zelda inside and not just… get sent on a whole new adventure. I mean, what’s with that? You look perfectly fine to me; why would we need to go and visit three different blacksmiths to get you sharpened?’
Fi paused to consider. Master Link, she replied, if what is lacking is sacred power or the ability to channel it, it is unlikely that Gondo of the Scrap Shop can imbue my blade with such things. Far more likely, indeed, that we must seek out the traces of the old gods, scattered across the surface world.
‘You mean Grooseland?’
…Yes. That.
Link tugged the Goddess Sword free, eyes roaming over the blade. ‘Alright,’ he decided. ‘So long as that’s what you want, too.’
It is necessary in order to reunite with the spirit maiden. I am unsure how my preferences would factor into this.
‘Well, just that… it’s your body? Sort of?’ Link said dubiously. ‘Or your house? However you want to think of it. Point is: you have a say in this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’
Fi gave a hum of acknowledgement, stirring discomfortedly in their connection. Reforging my blade would make me more powerful, and thus more useful to you. Perhaps consider it as… a form of training. A method of honing one’s body.
‘Oh. Sure. I guess?’ Link mused, frowning a little over the first half of Fi’s answer. He decided not to push any further. ‘Still. We did good today, right?’ He grinned. ‘Reforged or not, that big, scary monster was no match for the two of us.’
Analysis indicates that the Imprisoned has yet to realise the full extent of its power, likely due to the continued influence of the ancient seal.
Link rolled his eyes. ‘Killjoy,’ he scoffed lightly.
…Good work.
Link halted in place, eyes wide. He repeated those two words in his head several times, entirely unconvinced that he’d heard correctly.
I said, “good work”, Fi repeated helpfully, so perhaps some of that confusion had filtered through their bond.
Link looked down. There was a strange, tight sensation at the back of his throat. ‘You… umm. Are you… sure?’ he queried hesitantly. ‘Uh – that is… I mean, you… I didn’t really… well, you don’t have to answer that, but –’
Good work, Master Link, Fi reiterated patiently. The monster you defeated held an evil aura far beyond any recorded in my data banks. It is impressive that you were able to vanquish it so readily. Furthermore, I can confirm that the refreshed seal is stable and will likely hold for another three to four weeks at a minimum.
‘Only that long?!’ Link asked sharply. ‘But that temple must be ancient! Doesn’t say much for my skill, really, does it?!’
Exasperation pressed against their bond. Master Link. Much of the power of the original seal has faded over time. It is miraculous indeed that you were able to renew it at all.
Link chewed his lip. ‘If you say so. Though doesn’t that have more to do with you than with me? You’re the one with the divine power. All I did was point the sword upwards for a bit.’
Master Link… you once again appear to hold little confidence in the integrity of my analysis. Perhaps we should indeed hasten towards our destination, in the interest of promptly remediating these perceived deficiencies in your servant’s capabilities.
‘No! I just – urgh.’ Link gave a frustrated huff. ‘Fine, you win. Your analysis hasn’t led me wrong yet. I guess I did good. And so did you. Truce?’
With a tinge of smugness, Fi replied, As you say, Master Link.
Link scowled as he strode over to the bird statue that would bring them back to the skies. ‘Manipulative little shit,’ he accused half-heartedly.
And as they rose on the strange, luminescent updraft, Fi offered a final remark. You weren’t hurt this time, she stated simply.
There was a small sensation at the end of that comment, like the mental equivalent of a drawn breath. Link waited for several seconds more, but if Fi had intended to add anything further, she had clearly changed her mind.
Link paused to inspect himself. Yes, he was tired, and yes, he was a little dishevelled, but Fi was correct: aside from a few small, harmless static shocks, he’d taken no hits at all in the fight. Worlds apart from the duel with Ghirahim – the two duels, even – the desperate struggle against Scaldera or the battle against the Moldarach from Lanayru Desert.
After facing up against the behemoth from his darkest, most terrifying nightmares: he really wasn’t hurt. At all.
‘Huh,’ Link said wonderingly. ‘Guess we really did do good.’
Chapter 7: Supportive Sword Serenading
Summary:
Link engages in epic battle with his greatest foe yet: one (1) singular door. Technically two doors but they are joined so we will count it as one. Eventually, the door is opened and Link and Fi are able to meet with the Headmaster. Fi comes to a decision. Link meets a rude robot. Fi confirms awareness of Ornithurae and Anthophila. Fi, Link and the offstage orchestra perform a sweet jazz number.
Notes:
Link&Fi Bi/Ace + ADHD/Autism solidarity: yes, correct.
Merr chrimbus. Happ Year New. Hope your holidays are bright and your 2024 less shitty / even better than 2023, as the case may be. This is not an apolitical fanfic and I am not an apolitical author, thus we pause your regular broadcast to say: FREE PALESTINE.
Now onto the saxophones.
Chapter Text
It didn’t take long to arrive back at Skyloft. It did, however, take a little longer for Link to mentally work his way up to the next task on his agenda.
Several long seconds of standing, still and silent, before the entrance to Headmaster Gaepora’s room later, Fi emerged from her blade and gave a soft chime for attention.
‘Master Link,’ she began cautiously, ‘without wishing to overstep my boundaries as your servant… do you perhaps require… assistance with the task that lies before you? That is to say… a tutorial as to the workings of the standard –?’
‘I know how to open a door, Fi!’ Link retorted weakly.
‘Ah. Naturally, you would, Master,’ Fi responded swiftly, though not without a vaguely insulting hint of relief. ‘It is merely,’ she continued placidly, ‘that you appear unusually intimidated by the task of operating this particular door. A door which, I can confirm, holds no apparent trace of unfriendly spellcasting, poisonous substances or malignant auras. That is to say: neither the door itself nor the space beyond are likely to pose any obvious threat to you in your current state. Such is my humble conclusion.’
‘Oh. That’s… good, I guess?’ Link concluded half-heartedly.
‘Indeed, Master,’ said Fi. ‘And, as a result, I am unable to ascertain the rationale for your continued aversion towards the door in question.’ She paused briefly, then hastily appended, ‘Not that you are, of course, bound to explain such actions, inactions or inclinations. It was merely an observation. Kindly disregard it.’
‘No, no,’ Link quickly reassured her, ‘you’re allowed to ask questions. I just…’
In Fi’s defence, he had perhaps been staring at that door for slightly longer than strictly necessary. Long enough, even, for that bubbling anxiety in his gut to ebb away into reluctant admiration for the craftmanship of said door.
It was actually quite well made, once Link bothered to look closely at the thing. Although the carving was not particularly intricate or artistic at first glance, the individual cuts were small and precise and the overall design was meticulously spaced and perfectly symmetrical. Worlds apart from Link’s own haphazard method of chipping away at the wood unplanned until the end product emerged beneath his chisel. The wood was different too: solid oak rather than the soft pine Link usually worked with. Harder to carve, but with a beautiful natural grain enhanced by the thin coat of polish applied on top.
‘It’s a pretty nice door, actually,’ Link mused aloud. He blinked. ‘Wait – but that’s not the point!’
Fi gave no response beyond a mild inquisitive chime, prompting him to continue.
‘I’m… maybe a little bit nervous,’ he admitted. ‘Not because of the door itself – which I do know how to open, by the way –’
‘As you have previously advised, Master,’ Fi reminded him.
‘R-right. My point is, it’s not really about the door,’ he explained with a broad gesture towards the inoffensive furnishings at hand. ‘I’m more worried about… you know. The talking part. With the Headmaster.’
‘With the Headmaster?’ Fi tilted her head curiously.
‘I just…’ Link trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor. ‘Well, I wanted to have a better update by the time I spoke to him again, and…’
‘A better update, Master?’ said Fi. ‘I am not sure I understand.’
Link shook his head. ‘It’s stupid. Never mind.’ He set his shoulders and clenched his fists. ‘Alright: we’re doing this. We can do this. Count me in, Fi?’
‘Count you in, Master?’ Fi asked dubiously.
‘As in, “three, two, one, PULL!”, or something like that,’ he explained, confidence waning slightly as he spoke. ‘I mean, you don’t have to… just if you want. It’s just a door. Which I could theoretically just… open. Since I know how to do that.’
They both turned their gazes on the door in question: as before, it remained – mysteriously – closed.
‘Master Link,’ Fi said abruptly, ‘you requested a chant of “three, two, one, pull”, however the aforementioned door appears to be of the “push” variety. Shall I adjust this wording accordingly?’
‘Oh,’ said Link, halting briefly to contemplate this latest challenge to his door-opening capabilities. ‘Yeah. Good idea.’
‘On three, then, Master Link,’ Fi went on smoothly. ‘Three… two… one –’
Link gave a high-pitched yelp of alarm and jerked backwards as the door before him opened of its own accord – which was to say: opened by virtue of Headmaster Gaepora opening it.
‘Ah, Link! So you are back,’ the Headmaster greeted bemusedly. ‘I thought I heard your voice out there… please, come in.’
‘O… ok. Sure,’ Link agreed breathily, throwing Fi a swift, panicked look and receiving an ambiguous nod in return.
Nothing for it, then.
Posture stiff, Link followed the Headmaster inside and took the proffered seat. Unusually, rather than disappear back into the blade, Fi continued to hover at his shoulder, producing a low, soothing hum over their psychic connection.
‘I heard you’d been unwell, recently,’ the Headmaster remarked as he busied himself with a tea set. ‘I did try to visit you, but it seemed you were either sleeping or away each time I dropped by. Are you feeling better now, Link?’
‘Umm… yes. Much better. Thank you,’ Link replied awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry I missed you.’
Not sorry enough to admit he’d been avoiding the Headmaster on purpose, of course, but certainly sorry enough to feel guilty about it. He did his best to ignore both the sudden sharpening of Fi’s stare and the matching chime of realisation that reverberated through their psychic connection.
The Headmaster paused, sounding almost reluctant as he asked the question Link had been expecting. ‘So… how’s it going down there?’ he prompted. ‘Are you any closer to finding my Zelda?’
Link steeled himself. ‘I did find her,’ he said with forced steadiness, ‘but unfortunately, I couldn’t bring her back with me. Not just yet. It’s… a long story, but the important thing is that she is safe.
‘It seems she has some sort of mission of her own, down there. I don’t know the details yet, because I… wasn’t able to speak with her for long. So she wasn’t really able to leave a message for you, either. But I promise: I’m working to get to where she is, and I’ll bring her back as soon as I can.’
The Headmaster listened carefully, brows furrowed. ‘Hmm… is that so? I don’t like the idea of her being all on her own down there, but I suppose –’
‘Oh, she’s not on her own,’ Link interrupted quickly. ‘I missed mentioning this, but there’s… a woman called Impa. I’m pretty sure she’s from Groo– from the surface world. I don’t know much about her, but Zelda seems to trust her. And she –’
‘The truth of it is you were late,’ Impa hissed. ‘You were late, and you failed to protect her.’
‘–Seems capable, and trustworthy enough,’ Link finished weakly. He cleared his throat. ‘A-anyway. I don’t… I still don’t really understand what’s going on, and I’m not sure how much longer it’ll take, but it seems like she’s safe in the meantime. And of course, I’m going to keep, uh, doing my best. To help her.’
‘I see… my dear Zelda,’ the Headmaster mused. ‘Things must be terribly trying for her down there… and it can’t be easy for you now either, can it?’
Link blinked. ‘Uh…?’
Still hovering at his shoulder, Fi chose that moment to let out a noisy chime for attention. ‘Master Link has risen admirably to the challenges he has faced, demonstrating astonishing adaptability and resilience befitting the nature of Goddess Hylia’s chosen hero,’ she reported calmly. ‘His progress to date has been above all expectations.’
Link flushed deeply. ‘Fi!’
‘Quite the ringing endorsement,’ Headmaster Gaepora remarked, sounding amused. ‘It does make me want to hear all the details you’re skipping past, Link.’
‘Uh… details?’ Link asked feebly. ‘Well. Lots of things happened, but…?’
‘Headmaster Gaepora, allow me to provide a full report,’ Fi announced mercilessly.
‘Please do,’ he agreed.
‘What – but – Fi?’ Link sputtered as he glanced helplessly between the two unexpected co-conspirators. ‘Aren’t we in a hurry?’
‘Can you not spare an hour or so for this old man?’ Headmaster Gaepora queried lightly.
‘W-well, I –’
Seated at the dining room table with a bowl of stew before him and the Goddess Sword flat on his lap, Link eventually muttered, ‘You didn’t have to do all that, you know?’
The sword briefly glowed in response. All of what, Master?
‘All the… bragging, I guess,’ Link replied between mouthfuls. If Fi’s own communication method was any indication, it probably wasn’t necessary to speak aloud, but it was certainly easier to keep track of what he was saying that way. ‘I mean… I’m doing the best I can. I think. And it might not be all that much, and I might not always make the best decisions, but… but I’m going to keep doing my best regardless. So you don’t have to go overboard in trying to motivate me to do more.’
Surprise rang over the bond. That had not been my intent, Master.
‘Then what was your intent?’ Link pressed. ‘Because you don’t normally… I mean, that was way overboard.’
My… apologies.
He shook his head. ‘Don’t apologise. I just don’t really get it.’
Fi took a moment to collect her thoughts. Master Link, she began eventually, my capabilities as your servant include the provision of analysis into your strengths and weaknesses. And one thing that I have noticed, as such… is your tendency to overemphasise the latter. To the extent of becoming another weakness in itself. And it is also… She halted, ruminating. It is quite… difficult to observe. As a being of logic, that is. Because that tendency of yours is very illogical.
Link chewed and swallowed another mouthful, then asked, ‘Is it?’
Yes. Up to and including your evident fear of some adverse reaction from the Headmaster relating to your own perceived failings – a fear which has no basis in fact.
Link sighed. ‘Fine, I overreacted. I should have given him more credit. But he’s Zelda’s father. Obviously he’d be worried for her, and obviously he’d be disappointed that I haven’t brought her back yet, even if he decided to keep it to himself.’
And yet… you are also a resident of Skyloft, a student at this academy and a childhood friend of the Headmaster’s daughter. Would it not be logical to assume, in reference to these facts and to past interactions, that the Headmaster, along with the other Instructors and staff of this place, would bear a similar concern for your own wellbeing?
Link fiddled restlessly with the spoon, mulling over the thought of Horwell’s dismay at his injuries, Henya’s uncharacteristic fussing over his meals and bedding, and even Owlan’s brief visit to check his temperature and offer some new reading material. He thought of the night of Zelda’s disappearance, and of waking up to find the Headmaster waiting at his side. ‘Don’t push yourself,’ he’d said, or something like it.
‘I suppose,’ Link mumbled back.
Humans like you are not creations of logic, but of emotion, Fi noted. That is one of the differences between us. At times, it may well work in your favour, but on other occasions… to summarise, Master Link: I have concluded that it may indeed be beneficial for me to act more assertively at such times.
‘Oh,’ said Link. ‘I see.’
That is… Fi went on hesitantly, if such an approach does not displease you?
Link thought that one through, frowning a little as he shook his head and tapped gently on her hilt. ‘Come on, Fi,’ he teased, ‘logical being that you are: why would I be displeased? Have I given you any evidence to suspect that?’
Fi went quiet for a long moment, eventually concluding thoughtfully, No, Master… you have not.
‘Well, good,’ he said. ‘Then let’s assume you’re free to do whatever you want, and to be as assertive as you like.’
…I see.
Link let her chew on that one as he made his way through the rest of his meal and rinsed his dishes at the basin. Fi remained thoughtful and withdrawn as he resettled the sailcloth around his shoulders and moved out into the bright sunlit streets.
‘You know, Fi,’ Link announced as soon as they were back in the air, ‘I’ve been thinking about this, and no pressure but I actually think it’d be fine – or even good, maybe – for you to be even more assertive.’
The sword at his back buzzed attentively. In what sense, Master?
‘You could’ve told the robot to go fuck himself,’ he declared boldly, echoed by an indignant squawk of agreement from the crimson bird beneath him. Link patted his loftwing’s neck affectionately; it was good to know they were united on the matter.
The robot in question, dubbed “Scrapper” by one or another of Gondo’s ancestors, was apparently their only means of carrying the broken windmill propeller back up through the cloud barrier, which was apparently their only means of restoring the windmill and progressing their little adventure. All of which sounded like bullshit to Link, frankly: why was it that an entire saxophone could fit inside his pouch but a propeller couldn’t, and why was it that Gondo could fix an ancient piece of long-forgotten technology but not craft a far more mundane replacement propeller or two?
Utter bullshit, really. The entire universe conspiring against Link and his soul-bonded companions.
Fi buzzed at him once again. The robot was indeed quite rude to you, Master, she stated. Likely a programming error. I did not intervene as it appeared less bothersome to you than previous insults and due to the more timely interventions of Gondo, the Scrap Shop owner. Furthermore, it appears – regrettably – that the robot’s assistance will be necessary in order to achieve our current objective.
‘That doesn’t mean he gets to leer at you like that!’ Link said angrily.
Fi did not respond, but confusion blossomed over their bond.
Link glanced over his shoulder. ‘Did I misread things, then? You just seemed really uncomfortable, and I wasn’t sure if I should’ve said something… I didn’t want to put words in your mouth.’
The robot is currently necessary to our mission, Fi replied, sounding off-balance. It would be pointless for me to experience any such discomfort.
‘There doesn’t have to be a point, Fi,’ Link retorted. ‘If anyone makes you uncomfortable, regardless of how “necessary” they may be, either you tell them to fuck off or you ask me and I tell them. It’ll be my pleasure.’
It was difficult, as usual, to tell how Fi felt about that. The bond between them fluttered with some bittersweet mix of emotions that faded too quickly for Link to unravel. I do admit, she remarked quietly, I was… taken aback that someone saw necessary to program a being such as this Scrapper with the capability to… that is… my analysis suggests a seventy percent probability that the robot’s conduct could be described as “flirtatious”. Irrational as that seems.
‘Oh, yeah, he was definitely hitting on you,’ Link confirmed. ‘It didn’t seem like you were that into it, though.’
I do not believe I have the capability to be “into it”, as such, Fi said discontentedly.
‘You mean you’re asexual?’ asked Link.
I lack reproductive organs of any kind, Master. There would be no purpose. Thus my confusion when it comes to that robot, who I am to assume is… also lacking in…
Link made a face. ‘Yeah, let’s just not think too hard about robot sex organs, thank you. Still, for what it’s worth: I don’t think your… parts, or lack thereof, need to define you. I mean…’ He hesitated, but pushed on, ‘You might have noticed that my own body is a bit, uh, different to what you might expect. For my gender. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a man… right?’
Ah. My apologies, Master; I did not mean to imply –!
Link shook his head. ‘No, it’s fine. All I’m saying is that there isn’t, like, a correct way for you to be. It’s whatever you want. Or whatever feels natural. Either, I guess. Or both. That is… I’ll support you, no matter what.’ He paused, then added in a conspiratory whisper, ‘I do think you can do better, though. Just between us.’
…He called you a “green-clad individual of small stature”, Master Link. I would certainly hope I can “do better”, so to speak.
Link grimaced. ‘Yeah. Not gonna lie, Fi: your taste is kinda… bad. And that’s coming from me.’
Fi flipped free from the blade, surveyed him for a moment, then nodded to herself, seeming to come to some form of decision. ‘Master Link,’ she announced, ‘if your concern relates to the development of intrusive attachments to questionable individuals, you may set it to rest. Such attachment shall not occur. Even if I was capable of this functionality – which appears unlikely, given experience to date – there is no clear benefit in utilising it. My only desire is to be useful as your servant, in, for the avoidance of doubt, a deeply platonic sense.’
Aww. ‘Thanks, Fi,’ Link said warmly. ‘I feel deeply platonically about you, too.’ He paused. ‘The rest of that was kinda weird, though,’ he remarked. ‘Not that you don’t have a point about the lack of benefit in, uh, “intrusive attachments to questionable individuals”, but that’s not really how it… I mean… say, Fi: has anyone ever taught you about the birds and the bees?’
Fi floated impassively before him. ‘I am indeed familiar with the Ornithurae and Anthophila clades.’
Well, that wasn’t a good sign. ‘R-right,’ said Link. ‘Ok. But –’
‘That was a joke, Master Link,’ Fi advised mercifully.
‘Oh.’
‘A joke which is also factually correct. I do know about birds. And bees. And Hylian courting rituals and reproductive processes in which I have neither the means nor inclination to engage. I hope this thoroughly addresses your question, such that the matter can be deemed finalised, closed and complete.’
‘I see.’ Link considered. ‘Alright. Fine. We’ll park that for now, then.’
‘That sounds productive, Master Link.’
Fi returned to the blade. For a minute or two, they flew in peaceful silence.
‘Come to think of it, though,’ Link added abruptly, ‘if you’re really not interested… does that mean I can tell the robot to go fuck himself after all?’
That does not sound productive, Master Link.
‘…Fine.’
One terse conversation with a smarmy pile of scrap metal later, they were back in the sky, and, soon enough, back at the Plaza and its pure white Light Tower.
‘“Oh youth”,’ Link recited under his breath, ‘“show the two whirling sails the way to the Light Tower, and before you a path shall open, and a heavenly song you shall hear”.’
Glancing over the tower’s edge, he could see each of the two windmills pointing inwards. The tower itself had transformed in response, producing an odd little stone gazebo with a hole in the roof and a strange glowing mirror on a pedestal.
‘I’m not hearing any heavenly songs,’ Link pointed out.
‘I believe you will need your saxophone for this, Master,’ Fi surmised, ‘and if my analysis is correct…’ She indicated towards the pattern of the tiled floor – which, once Link was actually looking at it properly, bore a great deal of similarity to the circle of light back in the Sealed Grounds – and concluded, ‘you will likely also require an accompanist.’
Link grimaced. ‘Are we going to need that Goddess Harpsichord after all?’ he ventured warily.
‘It would be difficult to transport the instrument and its owner back to Skyloft, even supposing the latter was willing to cede her duties at the temple,’ Fi advised. ‘As I understand however, it is not specifically the harpsichord that is required… rather, the old woman claimed more generally that the effects of the Goddess Saxophone are enhanced through combination with other instruments, or with a voice. If the latter would be acceptable to you.’
‘Oh!’ said Link. He brightened. ‘Definitely! I’d love to hear you sing, Fi!’
Fi gave no verbal response, but embarrassment bloomed over their connection – and that, Link decided, wouldn’t do. Quick as he could, he fished his saxophone and matching sunglasses out of their designated pouches, gave Fi a reassuring nod and began to play.
A few bars in, a glowing circle began to pulse around the perimeter of the Light Tower, timed to the thrusting of Link’s hips. It took Fi a moment to join in, quiet at first and then growing in volume and confidence:
‘Oh youth, guided by the servant of the goddess: unite earth and sky, bring light to the land…’
As Fi’s mellow voice rang through the air, the quiet chiming of Link’s soul bond with her grew louder, bursting out into a complex arrangement of percussion and string instruments. In between each verse, Fi’s voice paused while the mysterious accompaniment continued alongside Link’s slides and trills. Instinct and/or power-of-jazz-possessed sunglasses prompted him to produce a descant harmony to Fi’s last phrase, and the song ended in an unexpected clash of arcane cymbals, echoed by a distant squawk from Crimson.
Link slowly lowered his saxophone, tilting his sunglasses curiously as he gazed around their surroundings. ‘Where did that orchestral arrangement even come fro…? Not important,’ he decided. ‘Anyway – wow! That was amazing, Fi! You have such a lovely voice! And you didn’t even need sunglasses!’ He paused to consider. ‘Although, maybe we should still get you a matching pair o–’
‘Sunglasses are not necessary,’ Fi informed him bluntly.
‘Well, alright then,’ Link conceded.
A cheer rang out through the air. Link jolted, then cautiously approached the edge of the Light Tower to find that a small crowd had gathered below. He could see Fledge at the front, clapping enthusiastically.
‘Huh,’ said Link, eyeing the saxophone. ‘I always forget how loud this thing is. Without even mentioning the psychic percussion section.’
‘I have decided against further analysis of the psychic percussion section,’ Fi confirmed, ‘much as with the sunglasses and their mystical effects. Nonetheless, it appears our task here is complete.’
‘Hmm?’ said Link, but even as he turned to enquire further, the floor shuddered and began to shift beneath his feet, rotating until the beam of light that fell through the aperture in the roof struck the odd mirror squarely, and ricocheted off to collide with the gigantic thundercloud in the distance.
‘Master,’ said Fi, ‘there is a high probability that this beam of light will lead us to clues as to the whereabouts of the three flames. I recommend that you investigate what lies at its end.’
‘Right,’ Link agreed, having almost forgotten the original quest objective amidst a storm of lesser milestones. ‘Yeah. Then let’s head out.’
Chapter 8: Upsetting Swordless Stealth Mission
Summary:
Link and Fi dive into a storm cloud to discuss soul bond platonic polyamory or lack thereof, as well as their favourite song from Cats: the Musical. They then return to Faron Woods. Link enjoys his first and definitely (but not actually) final Silent Realm. "Impa is full of shit" -spoken while wearing sunglasses. Ancient Cistern more like Ancient Transtern, am I right? PS trans rights.
Notes:
It’s been 84 years.
…
Well, no, it’s been slightly less than that, but SURPRISE! THIS FIC ISN’T DEAD!!
I feel like I looked away for like five seconds, but apparently time continued moving in the meantime, so oops. Also I spent the last several months working on a super cool aromantic and asexual history exhibition, which is such an incredibly niche thing to admit to that I might have just doxxed myself. If so, and if you happen to live in or around Naarm/Melbourne, Australia, you better hurry up and visit my exhibition before it closes on Thursday this week, 20 February 2025. Dawn of the First Day, bitches (/gender neutral).
PS: not to cheat on Fi or anything, but those swords from the Koloktos fight… I kinda wanted to keep one. Is that bad? Uh.
Anyway. This.
Chapter Text
One quick, jaunty wave towards their adoring audience later, Link and Fi were back in the air, gaze fixed on the spot where a bright beam of light collided with the dark grey mass of storm cloud ahead.
Link couldn’t help but shudder a little at the sight, thinking back to another storm not too long ago. Crimson wavered beneath his unsteady grip, wings beating hard with sudden clumsiness.
Master Link, said Fi, rest assured. No harm will come to you so long as you remain within the light’s radius.
‘I… yeah. I guessed as much,’ Link replied tersely, urging his loftwing back on course. ‘It’s just like those big beams of light that pierced the cloud barrier before, right?’
Fi gave a soothing hum. Precisely so.
‘Then, let’s do it,’ Link told them all. Crimson gave an unhappy squawk, but did not argue.
As they entered the thunderhead, the sunlight dropped away. There were a few terrifying moments when pure darkness pressed in all around the edges of their little tunnel of safety, before their surroundings finally settled into a dreary grey. The air was cold and damp, choked with fog, but the thin beam of light cut a clear path to some distant structure. Link focused his attention on that, and pushed Crimson silently forwards.
It's here. I remember this, Fi said unexpectedly. Her voice was oddly subdued – enough to startle Link out of his own anxieties. Without thinking, he pressed reassurance back against their connection and felt Fi reach back, like twining psychic fingers with one another.
The beam of light struck the upper section of a tall, overgrown stone tower. Link directed Crimson on a few circles of the structure but couldn’t find an entryway. Pressed up against Fi’s presence as he was, he felt the moment her attention shifted to the landmass nearby.
They slipped off Crimson’s back and landed lightly at the centre of the stone and grass plaza. Link surveyed their surroundings, gaze instinctively drawn back to the tower and its bright beacon.
After a moment, Fi spoke up. ‘Master Link,’ she began, ‘I have memories of this island. It is known as the Isle of Songs. Signs indicate that it was left here for you by the Goddess, Master. However, I am unable to determine a means of entering the structure ahead. I suggest you investigate the area.’
Link surveyed her for a moment, weighing her calm, even voice with the odd tremble he could feel in their soul bound. ‘Is… something wrong?’ he asked carefully.
Fi tilted her head slightly. ‘I am not sure of your meaning, Master.’
Link hummed consideringly. ‘Say, Fi,’ he asked, ‘when you mention those memories of yours… what exactly do you mean? How long ago was this?’
Fi hesitated. ‘They are not “memories” in the way that you would think of memories, Master,’ she replied eventually. ‘I use the word to describe information that was instilled in me for the purpose of assisting you in your mission.’
Link frowned. ‘So you’ve never actually… been here before?’ he ventured dubiously.
‘How could I have been here before, Master?’ Fi asked dully. ‘I am bound to that blade you wield. And you have only recently come to wield it.’
Was there a touch of bitterness in those words? Link pressed, ‘But you could have had another master before me, surely?’
A sudden, sharp burst of outrage crept through their mental bond, and Fi’s posture seemed to subtly stiffen. ‘There are no other masters, Master Link,’ she stated flatly. ‘Only you. You are the first, and you will be the last as well.’
Leaving it at that, Fi flipped backwards and disappeared into the hilt of the Goddess Sword once again.
‘Fi?!’ Link called worriedly.
There was no response.
Link drew the Goddess Sword and looked down at the blade. Fi stayed hidden; all he could see was his own reflection in the metal. ‘I’m… sorry,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. I only, uh…’ What could he say to remove his foot from his mouth? ‘I just meant… I mean, you’re an amazing person, and, uh, and a really good sword. And you’ve been around much, much longer than I have, right? So if you didn’t have any other master before me, well, clearly, they were missing out, because –’
Fi gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. Your permission is appreciated, but unnecessary, Master, she informed him dryly. There were no other masters before you. Did you have another loftwing before the current one?
‘Oh.’ Link considered. ‘Uh… no?’
Fi gave a vaguely disgruntled chime. There is only one loftwing per Hylian, and there is only one master that I was created to serve. Each of my capabilities was configured for that purpose, including, to your original question, my memories. As you travel to new places and encounter new creatures and objects, additional information becomes available, enabling me to assist you more effectively. This is the “memory” of which I speak.
Link scowled a little. He hated when Fi spoke like that – treating herself as nothing but a tool. But she never seemed to react well when he pointed it out.
‘How do you feel about all this, then?’ he asked instead. ‘Is it upsetting to suddenly have those new memories shoved into your head?’
Fi paused, confusion pulsing over their bond. A moment later, she emerged from the blade to float before him. ‘It is… a wondrous thing,’ she ventured cautiously. ‘To be continually learning and discovering… to be exploring and growing. To be able to learn about the world by your side.’
Despite his worries, Link felt a smile lift his lips. ‘Yeah. Like with the frogs, right? You liked those. That part’s been fun so far, right?’
Fi pulsed with reluctant agreement. ‘“Fun” is not necessarily useful, however.’ She paused, then added soberly, ‘It seems… inconvenient, at times, that I cannot tell you more of what lies ahead. Analysis suggests a high probability that many of the challenges of your quest to date could have been mitigated through enhanced early knowledge, and that I would be far more useful to you if I simply had access to all necessary data from the beginning. But perhaps… perhaps this, too, is the Goddess’s will.’
Link frowned. ‘I suppose.’
Fi inclined her head slightly, and added, ‘On that matter, Master Link: daylight is limited, and as such, I would recommend proceeding with greater haste towards our next objective.’
So Fi was finished with the emotional talk, then, Link surmised. Fair enough.
‘Alright,’ he agreed aloud. ‘Then let’s see if we can figure out a way forwards.’
One block-pushing puzzle, one impromptu ballet performance and a few ballet-and-hip-thrust-accompanied saxophone performances later brought Link to what may have been one of the new lows of his life.
Master Link, Fi began solemnly, I can unfortunately confirm that you have failed to pass the… Master Link?
From his face down position upon the ethereal plains of Farore’s Silent Realm, Link gave a miserable whine, followed by a string of muffled curses.
…Master Link?
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Link muttered, easing himself back upright. He rubbed an idle hand across his chest as he glared at the frozen, sword-wielding guardian placed in front of him. ‘Guess I’m… fine then, huh?’
It hadn’t felt fine, for a moment there. He’d been almost done with the trial, just struggling to find one final tear when he’d lost focus and tripped right into an arcane search light. From there, a short chase, several seconds that felt like hours and a sudden, sharp pain as that immense blade cleaved through his body –
No, come to think of it… it hadn’t really even hurt. Not physically, at least. But the surge of sheer panic as that gigantic scythe ripped through him, the sensation of having his very spirit torn to shreds in an instant, like splashing through the surface of a clear lake…
Link shuddered. ‘That was… that was c-careless of me.’
Indeed, Fi acknowledged cautiously. You were rushing, and as a result, you made a mistake. It is not, however, unsalvageable, Master. So long as you have the will and determination, you can retry a trial as many times as you like.
Link groaned. ‘Just one more try,’ he promised wretchedly, ‘I almost had it.’
Very well, Master Link, Fi obliged, then I will await your return in the outside world.
Link sighed, gave a determined nod and strode forward, hesitating only briefly before crossing over the boundary line and out of the safe zone.
As before, the cool blues and greys of the Silent Realm abruptly shifted to angry shades of green and gold, and the statue-like guardian ahead lurched into motion.
But Link was already charging forward.
The guardian was still several metres away as Link crouched and skidded towards the first tear, hand outstretched. The glowing emerald shard dissipated on contact, and the guardian seemed to leap backwards, freezing in place once more at the top of the stairs. Link paused to take a shaky breath, then continued on his way – walking, this time, rather than running.
At the top of the viewing platform, he paused to inspect the pattern of bright, emerald light that shone out from the woods. He counted each marking and mapped out a path before studiously collecting the nearby tear.
It wasn’t so bad, the second time around. Still nerve-wracking, but simple enough to manage if he took his time and paid attention. No running into search lights, no tripping into waking water. Almost as if…
‘Huh,’ Link thought aloud, steps slowing to a stop. ‘“Slow and steady wins the race”… right?’
He paused, anticipating a response from Fi, but there was only silence: their connection felt almost as distant as his bond with poor Crimson, still patiently awaiting his return in the space above the clouds.
Eager to share this latest conclusion, Link sped up just slightly on the way back to the finish line. As he reached the entrance, the completed spirit vessel floated upwards and burst apart, revealing a gleaming blue scale attached to a golden chain. He draped it around his neck and stepped gratefully out of the dreary Silent Realm.
Link opened his eyes. He blinked away the dazzling sunlight, then carefully tugged Fi’s blade out of the ground and pressed his consciousness back against hers. ‘Fi?’
The sword spirit leapt from her blade and spun to face him. ‘Congratulations, Master Link,’ she greeted warmly. ‘You have passed this trial. You now have the power to proceed to the location of the first sacred flame that will enhance your sword.’
‘Yeah… I guess,’ Link mused. He paused. ‘Say… was there a correct way to do this trial, Fi?’ He felt at his neck for the pendant, and found a far more solid copy of what he’d been gifted within the Silent Realm. ‘It was supposed to be a test of courage, right?’
‘Correct,’ said Fi. ‘Courage, noun: the ability to overcome fear and persevere through a dangerous or difficult situation.’
‘Huh,’ said Link. ‘So there’s nothing in there about needing to go recklessly fast or to take stupid risks?’
‘…Such a definition does not, indeed, reside within my memory.’
Link had never really learned to snap his fingers, so he settled with a quick finger-gun of deduction and concluded aloud, ‘Impa was full of shit.’
A pause.
Fi floated passively before him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Processing, maybe?
Wait… was this that thing where Link sometimes jumped through several lines of internal reasoning and neglected to explain those externally? Should he explain that process? Or perhaps –
‘What if I did that line again, but with the sunglasses on? Would that fix things?’ Link suggested, fumbling through his adventuring pouches for the item in question.
‘You may do so if that is your wish, Master,’ Fi replied tactfully. ‘In any case, you have indeed succeeded in this test of courage, and, as a result, the great spirit of the Water Dragon has provided you with the ability to swim freely underwater. The flame you seek is somewhere within these woods… Master, I must conclude that this flame is likely in a part of this area you have not explored.’
‘I guess so,’ Link allowed. He sighed. ‘Well, anyway. At least that’s over. From now on, I’m never entering another Silent Realm, ever. Mark my words.’
Fi went silent for a long, suspicious moment.
‘Wait. Don’t tell me,’ Link ventured warily, as said long, suspicious moment continued to stretch on for several long, suspicious moments more, ‘that we’re going to have to do more of those.’
‘Master… that is…’
‘Don’t tell me it’s one of those “bad things come in threes” things, Fi.’
‘Master Link,’ Fi said gently, ‘there is, unfortunately, a seventy-five percent chance that –’
‘DAMN IT!’
They didn’t reach the flame that day, or the next. It wasn’t until late in the third day that the mechanical guardian of the Ancient Cistern, awakened and empowered by Ghirahim’s demonic energy, finally clattered to the ground in a mess of golden shards.
Link dropped down right after, heaving for breath. He’d taken no injuries in the fight, save for perhaps a few small bruises and scrapes, but he suspected he’d be feeling the weight of those giant swords in his arms tomorrow. He sent a little burst of mental appreciation in Fi’s direction, then pulled himself upright with a grunt of exertion and headed for the next room.
One quick Skyward Strike later, the green flames of Farore burst into life upon the altar. Link took several swift steps backwards, shielding his face from the sudden, fierce heat.
The hilt of the Goddess Sword sparked. Fi leapt forward, stretching her arms out towards the altar.
‘Fi?’ Link called warily, then, ‘FI!’ as the flames shot out to consume her small figure.
A wave of wild, electric exultation shot through the psychic connection between them. It wasn’t Link’s emotion, but it didn’t feel entirely like Fi’s either. Thoroughly discomforted, he shuddered from the foreign sensation.
There was a loud thump and a burst of heat and light as Fi’s flaming form landed on the floor in front of him. Link staggered backwards.
‘Raise your sword, Master,’ instructed Fi, voice crackling with arcane energy. Nervously, Link did as she asked.
Fi leapt towards the blade, bringing with her a flurry of fireballs. Link braced himself and weathered the storm. As it finally died down, the blade thrummed and quivered, glowing the same vibrant green as the divine flames that danced in front of him.
The sword had changed, he saw. It was longer, and sharper too. The guard looked a little broader. Yet it felt lighter overall, and better balanced. He tested it through a few quick stances, marvelling at the change, then removed his scabbard to adjust the fit.
It was only then that he noticed something else: a glowing, three-triangle mark on his hand, matching the design placed above the doorway, except that the triangle on the bottom right glowed brighter than the rest of the marking. Just as soon as it had appeared, it faded. Link turned his hand this way and that, but nothing else happened.
How odd.
He put it out of his mind as Fi finally reemerged from the blade, seemingly unharmed. If anything, her presence in Link’s mind felt a little stronger, a little more sure of itself.
‘The sacred flame has purified your blade, enhancing and evolving it,’ Fi announced calmly. ‘With your sword now enhanced, you are ready to learn a new melody. We should return to the Isle of Songs.’
Link gave a small chuckle. ‘Eager, are we?’
Perhaps because of what she’d just gone through, Fi’s embarrassment was far clearer than usual across their bond.
‘Maybe we should celebrate, first?’ Link cut in quickly.
‘Rest and recuperation would be more suitable at this juncture,’ Fi responded sheepishly.
‘I don’t know. I kinda wanna see if I can get a new high score at Bamboo Island. What do you say? Or we could see if Strich has any new bugs you can taxonomise?’
‘It has been several hours since you last ate, Master Link,’ Fi reminded him.
Link shrugged. ‘Lumpy Pumpkin it is, then. Last one there’s a rotten egg!’
‘…At least carry me across your front, then, Master Link.’
‘Deal. Let’s go!’
Chapter 9: Self-Sabotaging Sword Sidequest
Summary:
Link fails to deploy his sailcloth in a timely manner, resulting in Fi winning a race. Link and Fi have an argument, and Link takes petty revenge. Kina schemes up a scheme, which doesn't work. Link experiences yet another bisexual crisis. The psychic percussion section returns. Link and Fi make up, yet it's a bit sad for everyone involved. Link learns about sand.
Notes:
Mmmmm that amatonormative urge to write “no hetero” whenever I talk about a queerplatonic ship. Must. Resist. Meanwhile, Kina and Link are both very bisexual this chapter. Good for them, good for them. This has been your aroace author, reporting in from the battlefields.
Also: is it just me or should pumpkins not break as easily as they do in Skyward Sword and Twilight Princess? What kind of wimpy, pathetic squash explodes when it touches down? Can I have one? I don’t know if Australian pumpkins are especially buff or what, but I feel like a lot of effort goes into peeling, chopping and boiling them, and I would really rather not. I just want soup, damn it ☹
CW: suggestive language, including a heavily implied invitation to future sexytimes (though no actual/implied sex happens this chapter). This has once again been your aroace author, reporting for duty.
Chapter Text
It was a close call, but in the end, Fi won the race back to the Lumpy Pumpkin. If only because she was still slung across Link’s front when he slightly less than gracefully chest-planted against the ground.
Link lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of dirt. ‘Guess I’m a rotten egg after all,’ he conceded gloomily. Crimson promptly thudded down on the ground nearby and gave a squawk of agreement. Link responded with a weary, wobbly middle finger.
As soon as Link sat up enough to leave her room, Fi leapt free from the blade and gave him a quick, careful scan. ‘Master, please make sure to use your sailcloth when descending from high elevations,’ she reminded him. ‘Failing to do so has a high probability of resulting in injury.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I know.’ Link waved her off. ‘My arm just seized up a bit.’
‘Seized up?’ Fi repeated sharply.
Link grunted and shook out the limb in question. ‘No big deal. But I think that fight from earlier took a bit more out of me than I realised.’
The weight of Fi’s gaze intensified, and a heady mix of concern and guilt hummed down their psychic connection. ‘Indeed, Master Link,’ Fi agreed. ‘Please accept my apologies for the lapse in judgement in regards to your wellbeing. I am now detecting widespread muscular strain, as well as minor contusions, particularly focused on the left-hand side of your body.’
Link gave a weary head shake. ‘Don’t apologise, Fi. It’s nothing serious. I just need a quick break for now and a good night’s sleep later. I’ll be fine by the morning. Or if worst comes to worse, I can always just take a potio– huh?’
A wave of disapproval slammed into him. Link gave Fi a startled look and received a placid stare in response. ‘Or… not, I guess?’ he amended curiously.
‘Given the nature of the injuries in question, and given your own recent infirmity, it is strongly recommended that you grant your body the time and resources it needs to heal naturally,’ Fi responded. ‘You may recall Instructor Horwell’s explanation as to the long-term risks of potion overuse in connection with repeated physical and psychological stressors?’
That was a lot of words, very quickly. Enough of a hint, all on its own, that Fi was upset – but Link was surprised to find that he could feel that distress pulsing along their connection as well, far more potent than the muted sensations he was used to.
‘Master Link?’ she prompted after a moment.
Right. ‘Uh… whatever you say, I guess?’ he replied vaguely. ‘Or whatever Horwell said, I guess. You think we should head back to Skyloft, then?’
‘Not just yet, Master,’ Fi disputed. ‘While a longer break is advised, a shorter one could prove beneficial as an interim measure. I would also recommend purchasing a meal, as had been, I believe, your plan. Nutrients will support the healing process.’
‘Sure thing,’ Link agreed, easily enough. He grunted with exertion as he lifted himself the rest of the way up from the ground (Crimson gave a slightly helpful, but mostly just patronising, nudge). It was only as he was opening the door that it belatedly occurred to him to ask, ‘I wonder if they’re still mad about that whole chandelier thing?’
Pumm was, indeed, still mad about the whole chandelier thing.
Not mad enough to yell or lecture him about it, and not mad enough that he wouldn’t sell Link a serving of pumpkin soup, but certainly annoyed enough for him to impart a few harsh words and a new side quest.
Link had the sense he’d gotten off easy.
He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.
‘Come to think of it,’ he told the sword lying across the table in front of him, ‘he’s been pretty patient with me. Even though he has no idea what I’ve been up to lately. And… I mean, I did break that thing. And it was probably pretty expensive. So do you think it’d be ok if we came back tomorrow and did a bit of work here?’
Fi pulsed with displeasure. That will be entirely dependent on the state of your body, Master Link.
‘I was more thinking about the urgency of finding the next flame,’ Link clarified. ‘You said the seal would still be ok for at least a few more weeks, right?’
…Yes. That is correct, Master Link.
‘Alright. Then how about if we sleep in tomorrow, then see if I’m up to it?’ he suggested. ‘I mean, it’s just pumpkin picking, anyway. Not much strain at all. Probably far less than whatever’s waiting for us down in Grooseland.’
Fi’s disapproval ebbed as she considered his words and then conceded the point. Indeed – you are likely correct, Master Link. Provided any such work is conducted with reasonable moderation.
‘Alright. Then it’s a plan,’ Link agreed. He paused, frowning a little, then went on, ‘But speaking of Grooseland, and the flames and all that… say, Fi.’
Yes, Master Link?
‘Are you… are you doing ok? I mean, are you feeling ok?’
Fi chimed her confusion. May I request a more specific enquiry, Master Link?
‘Well, just… you know. After what happened with Farore’s Flame,’ Link clarified. ‘Do you feel any different? And if so, is it good different or bad different? Do you want to talk about it at all?’
Link could sense Fi chewing over the question like a complex math equation. Certainly, she replied hesitantly, my offensive capabilities have been noticeably enhanced. I estimate that the reforged Goddess Sword will improve your combat performance by a factor of approximately eighty percent. Perhaps as much as a doubling of total damage output.
Link grimaced. ‘No, I don’t mean in terms of the physical changes to the sword,’ he clarified, ‘Just… do you feel different? You feel a bit different to me. Like there’s more of you, all of a sudden.’
The total length of my blade has increased, yes, though its total weight remains unchanged. Material has been redistributed, and the structure of the steel has also been altered. It may not be apparent to the naked eye.
‘Hmm… well, that’s not… quite what I meant,’ Link hedged.
Then what did you mean, Master Link?
Link searched futilely for the words to explain it. How he could feel Fi’s emotions so much more strongly than he had before, and how she felt a little larger and sturdier, not only in a physical sense, but also in the place where their souls connected. But if she really hadn’t noticed anything, then was it Link’s imagination after all?
‘I guess it doesn’t really matter,’ he surrendered in the end. ‘It’s not a bad change, anyway.’ That felt insufficient, so he quickly amended, ‘I mean, I like it. It’s a good change. I got the sense you thought so too, back there in the Ancient Cistern. You were excited, right? You were happy? You seemed happy. So I’m happy for you too.’
The bond between them lightened, hummed brightly, but then abruptly contorted, as something distinctly sour seeped in. Link’s heart dropped, and he pressed himself closer to Fi even as he felt her draw back from him.
Your conclusion is not without merit, Fi replied stiffly. I was created for a purpose, after all. If any mere tool such as I were capable of experiencing “happiness”, then surely that happiness would be tied to the achievement of its core purpose. Would you not agree?
‘Now hold on,’ Link sputtered, ‘where did all this come from? Who said anything about you being a “mere tool”? Of course I don’t agree! I totally disagree!’
Nonetheless, Master, Fi replied frostily, that is precisely what I am. There is no need to assign any greater meaning to such things.
Link scowled. He usually tried to be patient with Fi’s strange obsession with objectifying herself, but the enhanced intensity of it all suddenly made the matter impossible to ignore. ‘Why are you always so stubborn on this whole thing?’ he demanded, jabbing an accusing finger towards her sheath. ‘Why is it that you’re allowed to have a shitty self-esteem and I’m not? Clearly, you’re not just a “thing”. You’re talking to me right now. Would a “thing” do that?’
If it was programmed to do so: yes. I am however also programmed to obey commands. Would you prefer that this dialogue cease, Master Link?
‘Urgh. You’re impossible,’ Link groaned. He gulped the last mouthful of soup and carelessly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘No. I don’t prefer that. Keep talking. Wait, no, I mean – fine. Do whatever you want. Talk, or don’t. You’re a free person with a free will, after all. You can sulk as much as you like. Meanwhile, I’m going to go and help with the pumpkin harvest.’
Fi’s mood instantly shifted from bitter detachment to stern disapproval. Master Link, I thought we had agreed to postpone such activities in the interest of your continued bodily wellbeing.
‘Hmph. I don’t know, Fi. Did I actually commit to that?’ Link asked petulantly. ‘Maybe I just feel like being a self-sabotaging pain in the butt for no reason. You ever feel like doing that?’
Irritation flooded Fi’s half of their bond. Master Link, she replied, this is extremely immature.
‘Hah. Well, if that’s how you want to play it…’ Link stuck his tongue out at her and sang, ‘I know you are, but what am I?’
Fi did not respond. Link shrugged, slung the sword across his back, and headed back outside. ‘Last one to the fields is a rotten egg,’ he added.
Fi lost the race that time. Link definitely didn’t rub it in her face. Nope: if she was going to give him the silent treatment, then the feeling was mutual. Totally mutual. He wasn’t lonely at all. Not even a little bit.
Link stomped over to the young woman crouched in the fields. ‘Your Dad sent me here to help out,’ he reported bluntly.
Kina wiped her face with a filthy, earth-coated wrist and looked up at him. ‘Hm? Oh! It’s you! The brave knight who slayed the chandelier. Still working it off, eh?’
‘Mm-hm,’ said Link. ‘So what is it that I need to do here, anyway?’
‘Nothing too complex. Just a load of manual labour,’ Kina explained distractedly. She tapped her knuckles on the rind of a nearby pumpkin and added, ‘I’ll check for ripeness and cut the stems, but I need you to carry them to the shed. Sound ok to you?’
Link shrugged. ‘Yeah. Sure.’
Kina smiled gratefully. ‘What a relief! Do you have any idea how heavy those pumpkins are?’
‘Really?’ Link asked curiously. ‘They don’t look that heavy.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Kina challenged. ‘You think this is going to be a piece of pumpkin cake, do you? Well, fine!’ She smirked. ‘Heh heh… let’s make this interesting. How about you carry five pumpkins at once?’
‘Huh?’ Link said blankly. ‘Five at once? Like in a basket or something?’
‘No, we’ll just pile them on top of each other in a precarious, wobbly heap,’ she replied cheerily. ‘Easy, right?’
Kina tossed him a pumpkin. Link almost fumbled, but managed to catch it before it hit the ground. His arms strained against the pumpkin’s weight. It was… a little heavier than he’d expected. Just a little.
‘You know,’ Link began, ‘this, uh, doesn’t actually seem easy at all. In fact, it kind of feels like an unnecessary escalation. Or, like, a disaster waiting to –’
Another pumpkin thudded on top of the previous one. Link staggered.
‘You better take it slow, or you’ll risk dropping them,’ Kina warned. ‘Just get out there and haul those pumpkins!’
Link couldn’t help but reflect on his dismal track record as it related to the not-dropping of valuable items belonging to the proprietors of the Lumpy Pumpkin. ‘Maybe this is a bad idea,’ he pointed out, right as Kina somehow managed to toss the final pumpkin into place atop the others.
If Kina actually heard his warning, she managed to give a mostly convincing performance to the contrary. ‘Ok, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you where you need to carry the pumpkins! See that storage shed up ahead?’ She indicated to a building far off in the distance. ‘Carry the pumpkins there. Easy, right? The trick to carrying several pumpkins at once is to walk slowly! If they start to lean right, move right. If they start to lean left, move left. Take your time, and keep your balance!’
‘I feel like you’re maybe setting me up for failure here,’ said Link.
‘Me?’ Kina gasped, with maybe a touch too much drama to be entirely believable. ‘I would never!’
As it turned out: Link did not fail. In fact, he did not drop even a single pumpkin. Not the first time he walked over to the shed, and not the second or third time either. He carried every single pumpkin he was given until the field was mostly empty and the shed was mostly full.
‘Wow,’ said Kina, open-mouthed with shock. ‘You actually did it.’
Honestly, Link didn’t really understand it either. ‘You know, when someone tells me to do something that’s both totally impossible and completely inconsequential, I find I can often just brute force it into reality,’ he informed her. ‘It’d, uh, be kind of cool if I could do that for consequential things, mind you.’ He paused, then amended, ‘Well, I guess the saxophone thing was kinda consequential, in a way. So there’s that.’
‘Saxophone?’ Kina asked curiously.
‘Oh.’ Link shrugged. ‘Long story short: I bought a pair of sunglasses in order to become a jazz musician. That probably shouldn’t have worked, but it did.’
‘Huh? Oh, right: sunglasses,’ said Kina. ‘No, those’ll do it. Good trick.’
Fi stirred with indignation, but held her metaphorical tongue.
Link shrugged once again. ‘Well, I’m not wearing any sunnies right now, but I assume a similar principle applies. Mind over matter, and all that.’
‘I… see?’ Kina replied confusedly. She blinked, then hastily pasted a guilty smile on her face. ‘W-wait, I mean… who said it was impossible? I do that sort of thing all the time! How else do you think I knew how to do it? Yeah! I just knew you would come through. You managed to carry them all! I guess that means you’re done carrying pumpkins. Thank! You! Very! Much!’
‘You wanted to see me fall over, didn’t you?’ Link asked bluntly.
Kina wavered a few seconds more, then gave in. ‘Well. Yeah… kinda.’ She chuckled sheepishly. ‘That is… I mean, I didn’t necessarily want you to fall, but I thought it’d be funny if the pumpkins fell everywhere. I mean… It’s been a long day, and a long season for that matter. It’s hard work, and I get bored sometimes. But it’s not like you were going to get in trouble or anything.’ She lifted a stray pumpkin up and rapped it again with her knuckles. ‘These are pretty sturdy, you know? So even if you had dropped it, it wouldn’t –’
Kina’s grasp slipped, and she dropped the pumpkin. It shattered like glass against the soft, earthen ground.
‘Oh,’ Kina said weakly. ‘These are, umm… more fragile than I remember them being?’
‘Yeah,’ said Link, ‘I thought the same about the chandelier.’
‘…Touché.’
Kina looked at Link. Link looked at Kina.
‘Psst. Mr Knight. You didn’t see anything, did you?’ she stage-whispered.
Link shook his head obediently. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Well… good. That’s good. Very… very chivalrous of you.’
A few seconds passed.
Unexpectedly, Kina burst out in laughter. Link couldn’t help but join in.
‘Maybe it was a stray keese?’ he suggested cheekily.
‘Or that monster the old man was raving about the other day,’ Kina sniggered.
Link didn’t have the heart to explain that said monster was, in fact, real. Albeit rather uninterested in destroying pumpkins. ‘I think your field is possessed by demons,’ he instead warned her gravely. ‘Better stay inside after sunset. Wouldn’t want them to target you too.’
Kina gave a sly grin and leaned a little further into his personal space. ‘Oh, really?’ she purred. ‘But what if there was a handsome knight nearby to keep me safe? What then? It might actually be worth a little danger in that case, don’t you think? Just a little?’
Kina’s smile was very pretty. And also very close to his face. Link promptly flushed as crimson as his loftwing and responded with an articulate, ‘U-uhh?’
‘Ohh? Is our brave knight lost for words, all of a sudden?’ teased Kina. She drew back slightly, inspecting his expression. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her. ‘Well, our work here is done – and at record pace, at that,’ she said innocently. ‘I’m going to go wash off the grime. If you happen to want a free drink or two, you can come and find me upstairs. I’ll be waiting.’
‘Oh,’ said Link.
Kina offered a flirtatious wave as she sauntered away. Link watched mutely as she opened the door and disappeared inside the building.
Several seconds later, he asked, ‘Say, Fi. I know you’re ignoring me and all that –’
I never said I was ignoring you, Master Link, was the irritable response.
‘– But I’m kind of curious,’ he went on. ‘Like, you know how you did that percentage calculation thing before to figure out how much of a crisis my bisexuality was becoming? Purely based on this latest development, would you say that figure has gone up, or gone d–?’
Kindly exclude my analysis from this decision-making process, Master Link.
‘Umm… Kina,’ said Link, ‘I’ve been wondering this for a while now, but… that instrument over there. Is that yours?’
‘Hmm?’ Kina followed his gesture over to the shining saxophone sitting pride of place on the little stage downstairs. ‘Ah. Well, yes.’ She sighed. ‘I used to play for the people here. But I haven’t been able to do it since my partner quit. Just not the same, you know?’
‘Your partner?’
‘There was this girl who played the drums,’ explained Kina. ‘She and I had a falling out. It was messy. Drama like you wouldn’t believe. Probably a good thing she called it all off. Then there was another girl who dropped by every now and then – she played the saxophone too. Wasn’t that great at it, though, just between us. And then when she went ahead and ghosted me out of nowhere, there was no one else.’ Kina fiddled moodily with her empty cup. ‘Father said I should keep playing anyway, but it felt weird doing it on my own. It’s kinda… scary, being the only one on stage. Everyone’s staring, and it’s all so quiet. Feels like they’re all silently judging me.’
‘Really?’ asked Link.
Kina inspected him curiously. ‘Hey. Come to think of it: you said something about playing too, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, yeah. I mean, I only started fairly recently, but yeah,’ said Link. ‘Haven’t really done it in front of an audience yet. Not intentionally, at least. Had a few people show up when I played back at Skyloft the other day.’
‘That was you?’ Kina asked, sounding startled. ‘Huh. A few people here mentioned someone playing at the Light Tower. I didn’t really think much of it at the time.’
‘Fi was playing with me too, though,’ Link amended. He looked down at his sword once again. ‘Or, singing, I guess? I s’pose I can understand what you mean about performing with someone else being different to playing all alone.’ He smiled fondly. ‘She’s got a beautiful voice. And, like, a psychic percussion section, or something?’
I possess no such a thing, Master Link.
‘Hmm… or maybe I’m the one with the psychic percussion section?’ he mused aloud.
Kina nodded seriously and remarked, ‘Some musicians do have that power. Magical resonance of some kind, I suppose? I don’t know a lot about it. It’s very rare.’
‘Huh,’ said Link. ‘Lucky me.’
The conversation trailed off for a few moments. Link sipped his drink, running a thoughtful hand along Fi’s sheath.
‘Hey. You know what?’ Kina said abruptly. ‘This is maybe a bit crazy, but uh… well, I mean. You still owe us for that chandelier, after all. How’s about earning your keep?’
‘Earning my… what?’
Kina grinned at him, eyes dancing as she seized his wrist and tugged him towards the stage. ‘C’mon!’ she urged. ‘Just a song or two. Indulge me?’
Link donned his pair of pink-rimmed glasses. Kina produced a pair of bright orange, pumpkin-shaped lenses.
‘Well, keep up, if you can,’ she dared him, and raised the saxophone to her lips.
The first section was slow. Link listened for a few bars, then lifted his own instrument, weaving his own improvisations in between her short, syncopated notes. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched their small audience swell as curious faces turned their way and eager bodies moved closer.
Eight or so bars in, he felt Kina shift subtly. He blew out a long, jazzy note as she took the lead in their duet, hip thrusts and all.
And though only two performers could be found on the small stage, yet another instrument soon joined in. Its rich bass drone resonated through the floorboards. Some kind of twangy, artificial string instrument then wove in over the top. As Link raised his saxophone for another bold, suggestive solo, the psychic percussion section roared out in answer.
A flicker of blue light out of the corner of his eye had Link turning towards the stairwell. A glowing figure hovered there, half hidden by both the stairs and by the audience. Link tilted his head and offered a quick, hopeful, non-verbal invitation. Fi’s only response was to duck out of view.
Something tightened in Link’s throat. He ignored it as best he could, and kept playing.
When the improvised song finally drew to a close, the applause shook the building. It was probably a good thing there were no chandeliers left to fall. Link gave a quick victory pose, followed by a proper bow. It felt mostly genuine. Mostly.
But something was clearly missing.
As the applause died down, Kina tilted her sunglasses and surveyed his expression. ‘All good there, sir knight?’ she asked softly.
‘Yeah. All good,’ he replied automatically. ‘Uh – I mean – wow! You’re amazing! That was amazing!’
She gave him a fond smile. ‘Sure was. I hope it’s not the last time, either. C’mon.’ She led him off the stage and offered a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘It’s late, you know,’ she remarked. ‘We’ll probably close up the bar sometime soon. But there’s beds if you want to stay the night. No charge; the knights of Skyloft use them all the time. Of course, there are some other beds around here that open by invitation only… but I should probably have a chat with my father first, and see if he’ll clear that debt of yours. Wouldn’t want you feeling obligated, or anything.’
‘Huh? You sure? Honestly, I feel like I haven’t actually done all that much work yet,’ Link pointed out blankly, as something that felt distinctly like an innuendo passed right above his head.
Kina rolled her eyes. ‘Have a nice evening, sir knight.’
‘You too!’
Kina wiggled her fingers in a dainty wave and headed over to the bar. Link, meanwhile, went to the little alcove where he’d placed his sword and shield.
‘Fi?’ he called quietly.
There was no response. The blade was cold and silent in his hand. Link cast his senses out, quickly locating the sleepy, distant presence of his loftwing, already nesting for the night. Fi’s presence was smaller, but far closer. He slung the Goddess Sword over his shoulder and followed her outside.
It was dark enough that he spotted her instantly: a glimmer of iridescent cerulean beneath a pitch black sky.
‘Fi?’ he called again.
She startled visibly and swivelled to face him. ‘Master Link?’
He moved a little closer. ‘What’s wrong, Fi?’
‘There is nothing wrong, Master Link,’ she replied. ‘My apologies. I had not anticipated you would notice my absence.’
‘Well… I did,’ he pointed out, feeling a little frustrated. ‘Look, Fi. I never said I was smart. I can’t just figure this stuff out on my own. Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?’
‘Wrong?’ Fi repeated blankly.
‘You’re mad at me,’ he pointed out. ‘And I really don’t want to fight with you, Fi. I like you. A lot. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and… and I want you to be happy. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to make you sad. So, please just… tell me how to fix this?’
She was silent for a very long, impassive moment. Long enough for Link to give up hope of receiving an answer. ‘Fine,’ he muttered, shoulders slumping. ‘If you really don’t want –’
‘You asked if anything had changed recently,’ Fi cut in abruptly, ‘Specifically, whether Farore’s Flame had changed anything.’
Link looked up. ‘Y-yes?’
‘The flame itself has not materially altered my cognitive processes. Yet, perhaps… there were minor considerations before, which have since become more significant considerations,’ Fi told him. She hesitated again, then continued, ‘Master Link… I also do not wish for conflict with you. Nonetheless, it is… it is important that you not concern yourself with your servant’s moods or wellbeing. I am merely a weapon, Master. Merely a tool. It would not do for you to form any lasting attachments to your… to your equipment.’
Link felt a sharp, familiar sting of rejection and shame run through his body. It ebbed as he observed Fi’s own turbulent emotions over their psychic connection.
Heartbreak. Longing. Despair.
‘Fi,’ Link asked carefully. ‘Do you really not want to be friends anymore?’
‘Regardless of whether I want it or not, I should not want such things, Master Link,’ Fi responded fiercely. ‘Please do not misunderstand.
‘You… you have a beautiful soul, Master Link. It has always seemed radiant to me, but it shines particularly brightly when you play the Goddess Saxophone. Like a divine light that chases away the shadows. And it will continue to shine, long after I have served my purpose. I am merely…
‘…I am merely… afraid,’ Fi admitted quietly. ‘Afraid that it might… that it might upset you if something were to happen to me.’
A chill ran down Link’s spine. ‘“If something were to happen”?’ he repeated sharply. ‘Fi. What is this “something” that might happen?’
Fi curled up a little. ‘I am… unsure, Master Link. Only… on the day that I awoke and went to find you, there was an image that came to me at that time. Not a memory. More akin to your own prophetic dreams, I suspect.
‘You were looking right at me. Reaching out towards me, and cradling me in your arms. And you were crying. You were crying as though your very soul was tearing apart, Master Link. I think you were crying… because of me. It did not bother me so much at the time. But now…’
Fi moved towards him in a sudden, sleek glide. She leaned in close. ‘You mustn’t care so much, Master Link,’ she begged. ‘You mustn’t cry like that. Not over something like me.’
‘Fi –!’
But regardless of any of Link’s own sentiments, Fi was seemingly finished with the conversation. With a lithe flip, the sword spirit shrank down and vanished into the hilt of the Goddess Sword.
Link drew the blade and stared down at it. The fine steel glowed faintly in the dim moonlight. ‘No. I’m sorry, Fi, but it’s too late,’ he told her firmly. ‘I already care. And I will protect you. No matter what. So don’t you worry about how I might feel about all this. Worry about yourself. We’ll figure something out between us. Alright?’
Fi gave no verbal response, but he could hear wind chimes softly ringing over their connection. Her soul trembled where it pressed up against his own.
Morning inevitably arrived, and with it, the consequences of Link’s actions.
‘You know, Fi,’ Link choked out, ‘I think I might have some regrets about all the pumpkins I carried yesterday.’
‘Indeed, Master Link,’ Fi replied calmly, ‘previous analysis had certainly indicated a high probability of such regrets resulting.’
Link gave a loud, drawn-out, dramatic moan on behalf of every shrieking muscle scattered across his aching body, and retorted, ‘Fine! Yes! You told me so! I admit it! But spare a little sympathy for this poor tortured human and its poor, tortured meat sack, would you?’
‘You have my deepest sympathies, Master Link,’ Fi informed him.
‘Why must you always sound so sarcastic, even when you’re being genuine?’ Link complained. ‘Urgh. Whatever.’ He grimaced and tossed a hand over his eyes, blocking out the morning sun. ‘You know what, Fi? Let’s just never argue. Ever again.’
‘A wise suggestion, Master Link,’ he heard Fi agree, ‘and may I also add… to the extent that my own words and actions have contributed to your current state, I sincerely apologise.’
Surprised, Link shifted his hands from his eyes and looked over to Fi. Her face was as neutral as ever, but he could sense her discomfort and regret, no less potent than they’d been the previous day.
He reached out to her, both physically and through their bond. The former failed as the muscles in his arm gave a particularly sharp twinge. The latter comfortably twined itself into place.
‘Ok,’ he said quietly, ‘apology accepted.’
There were a lot of other things he wanted to say. About how important Fi was. About how much he loved her. About how he’d make damn sure that whatever horrific vision she had had would never come to pass, no matter what.
He held it all back.
He hadn’t even said anything, yet Fi was already tensing up in anticipation. Ready for a fight that neither of them truly wanted.
‘Say. Fi,’ he said eventually, ‘you, uh… you know how when we were in Lanayru before, you said the place had turned into a desert over time? How does that work, exactly? Where did all the sand come from?’
Fi tilted her head at him. ‘The sand?’
Link gave a weak smile. ‘Y-yeah. The sand. I was just… curious. And I figured, umm, that I’m going to be stuck here for a while. So maybe you could talk to me for a bit. Like how you told me about frogs the other day. So. The sand? Or… or something else that interests you?’
‘I… see,’ Fi responded slowly. ‘That is. I do indeed possess data relevant to this inquiry, Master Link. Sand typically results from the slow erosion of rock formations, whether by wind or by water. Analysis indicates however that most of the sand in question would have been present before the desertification process commenced. One consequence of that process is the loss of vegetation and resulting break-down of soils. Dry, dust-like soil is then swept away by wind or rain, leaving behind heavier particles, which…’
Link listened carefully to Fi’s explanation. Both because he was genuinely interested, and because of the way Fi relaxed and leaned into their soul bond as she spoke. He leaned right back.
He hoped she understood what he meant.
He hoped she knew he loved her.
Chapter 10: Excessively Sandy Sword Observations
Summary:
Link and Fi descend upon the Lanayru Desert. Link has complaints and also scientific observations regarding the excessive quantity of sand. Link commences another stealth mission, during which he throws a light fruit, a stamina fruit and a dusk relic at a roving sentinel. It goes about as well as one might expect. Link and Fi then proceed to the sand sea, which features a truly excessive quantity of sand. A lot of violence goes on behind the scenes, but the important thing is that the existential crisis robot is happy.
Notes:
Me, a novice historian, not a geologist, not any kind of scientist, surveying this magical, fictional world which is unbound by real-world constraints: there's TOO MUCH SAND.
Might've skipped past a boss fight or three, but in my defence, it was really important to me that I spend 5500+ words discussing a) sand, and b) upsettingly self-aware ancient robots.
Chapter Text
An extra day of unwanted lassitude saw Link back to more or less perfect condition. Close enough that he felt comfortable pressing on and that Fi didn’t stop him, for all that she hummed with a quiet dissatisfaction.
For his own part, Link was struck by a newfound urgency. Flickers of vivid nightmares, already slipping away as he awoke, had him jumping at shadows. The journey through the terrifying tunnel of wind that marked the way to the Isle of Songs hardly helped. He was almost relieved to finally drop back down through the cloud barrier and into the scorching heat of Lanayru Desert.
Almost.
A fresh gust of wind blew yet another dosage of dust into Link’s face. An instinctive attempt to wipe himself clean backfired and left grainy scratches across his cheeks and in his mouth. With a sigh and a grimace, Link wiped his filthy hands on his filthy tunic and unscrewed the lid of his canteen, indulging in a quick gargle and spit. Several small, deeply irritating, remnants remained lodged at the back of his throat.
‘You know, Fi,’ Link remarked conversationally, ‘it really is quite an excessive amount of sand, isn’t it?’
Fi chimed in acknowledgement. Certainly, compared to Skyloft, the quantity is significant.
‘Sure, but that’s not what I mean!’ Link insisted, even as he continued on his slow, steady slog through said excessive amount of sand. ‘You know how you said the other day that it can take millions of years for sandstone to break down?’
Surprise ran down their bond. I did indeed say that, Master Link. You remembered?
Link rolled his eyes. ‘Obviously I remember that. I was the one that asked you about it, remember? And remember how you said that most of the sand in question would have been here long before this place turned into a desert?’
Yes, said Fi, sounding vaguely thrown by the display of attentiveness (Link couldn’t help but feel slightly insulted). She continued, It was the only explanation that made sense, considering the limited timeframe since the desertification process took place.
‘Well, sure. It makes sense in theory,’ Link stressed, ‘but not when you compare the “before” and “after” state. We have all those Timeshift Stones, right? And the map that one robot gave us? So you can see, right, how the sand is actually higher than the dirt used to be? Enough that it’s covering up all the old paths? And not only that, but there are a bunch of rock formations in the before state that don’t exist in the present. Especially inside the caves – which wouldn’t have had much exposure to wind, rain, sunlight, or anything like that. So now here’s what I’m wondering.’ He pointed over to the sad, rusty remnants of an ancient robot. ‘Could those things be older than you first thought? Like, millions of years instead of thousands?’
I do not believe this is possible, no, Fi said thoughtfully. While I am unable to pinpoint a specific date, analysis of the surviving materials and of the historical record indicate a more recent timeframe. Nonetheless… you have identified an intriguing contradiction, Master Link. I shall have to reassess my previous conclusions.
Link could feel Fi’s scientific mind stir to life. He grinned in the triumph of a job well done.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Ok, yeah, you do that. And in the meantime, I’ll just…’ He looked unwillingly down at the glowing patch on the ground, and at the vibrant blue butterflies that danced through the air above. ‘I’ll just, uh… go and handle that whole trial thing.’
Ah. Fi slipped free from her blade to hover before him. ‘It seems you’ve located the Trial Gate, Master Link,’ she noted, not without regret. ‘Similar to the previous Trial Gate, it will likely react to a performance of Nayru’s Wisdom.’
Link grimaced. ‘Fine. Let’s get it over with, then.’
He reached into his pouch and produced the Goddess Saxophone and its matching pink-rimmed sunglasses. He slipped the latter into place – conveniently blocking out the harsh Lanayru sun (who knew sunglasses had such a useful secondary purpose?) – and began to play. Fi’s soft, resonant voice, along with the mystical accompanying orchestral arrangement, soon joined in.
One jazz performance later, the Trial Gate pulsed into existence beneath Link’s feet. He braced himself, and then thrust the Goddess Sword firmly into the centre of the glowing mark.
The bright yellow and orange shades of the physical world leeched away. A sickly blue and green twilight took their place.
Fi’s distant presence gave an unhappy chime. Master Link, she called. As you know by now, I cannot follow you. The trial calls out to your mind alone, as it is in every Silent Realm. This is the second trial, known as Nayru’s Silent Realm. It will test your wisdom, Master. You must overcome this trial to find the flames that will enhance your sword. As before, fill your Spirit Vessel by collecting the Tears of Nayru. When your vessel is full, your spirit will grow and you will be entrusted with a new power by the goddess. Do you have any questions?
‘Nope. I’m good,’ said Link, already glancing warily across his surroundings. Was it just him, or were there a lot more of those roving, lantern-wielding sentinels than at the last trial? Not only that, but collecting the closest tear – his first tear for this trial – would mean running right past one of those terrifying “Guardians”. He was relatively sure he could make it in time, but it would be a close call. Still better than trying for one of the more distant tears, he supposed.
Link exhaled forcefully. ‘Ok,’ he said, ‘I can do this. Just you wait, Fi. I’ll be back before you can say “torn apart by mechanical nightmares”.’
Hmm? I am not sure I follow, Master Link. Would there be there a need for me to use those particular words?
‘Uh… no?’ Link replied feebly. ‘I mean, I’d rather you didn’t?’
I see. I shall, in that case, abstain. I will however await your safe and successful return.
‘Y-yeah. Good. See you soon.’
With that small matter settled, Link fixed his eyes on the tear directly in front of him, and took a final, deep breath. He dashed forward, flinching as the Silent Realm shifted into its blaring alarm mode and then flinching once again as the nearby Guardian drew a little too close for comfort. He forced his way past that instinctive urge to freeze and instead kept running, all the way to the stairs that led up to the Silent Realm equivalent of the Lanayru Mining Facility. With his lungs already burning with exertion and stress, Link reached a desperate hand out and brushed his fingertips against the strange, gaseous surface of the Tear of Nayru.
Silence fell. The world reverted back to its dull, serene stillness. Glancing back over his shoulder, Link saw the Guardian frozen innocently in place, several metres away.
Link let out a shaky exhale and a muttered curse. He allowed himself a brief moment to regain his bearings, then continued on his way up the stairs.
The facility itself was barred by an ornate fence of pale silver. In front of it was a small, white fruit. A light fruit, if Link remembered correctly – capable of revealing the locations of the other tears. He plucked it and took a bite, making a face at the way it melted into non-existence in his mouth, leaving behind only a puff of peach-scented air. Silent Realms were weird.
Climbing to the top of the building granted Link a better view of his surroundings. He paused to map out a path. Some areas looked simple enough; he’d save those for last. The bigger issue would be the dense clusters of search lights to one side of the map, or, more immediately, those narrow battlements nearby where strange, floating creatures patrolled endlessly back and forth. He didn’t see a way to avoid them completely. Not without getting close enough that they’d notice his presence, as they had back in Farore’s Silent Realm. But maybe he could distract them somehow?
He climbed down and began his wary approach, picking up a stray light fruit along the way. Its ethereal glow began to fade almost as soon as he’d plucked it, but the fruit nonetheless remained mostly solid in his hand.
Link paused to briefly contemplate the scientific merit of what may, in fact, be a terrible idea. Decision made, he promptly lobbed the fruit directly at the closest sentinel, instinctively flinching as he waited for its reaction.
There was none.
‘Huh,’ said Link. He watched the sentinel continue its patrol, utterly unbothered by the soft and squishy fruit that had splattered across its outer layers. Purely for scientific purposes, he tried again with a bright green stamina fruit. Still no reaction.
Link glanced at his Spirit Vessel, slowly losing petals as he idled his time away. He headed over to the narrow strip of wall where the sentinels continued their steady, mechanical patrol. He waited as that patrol looped back towards him, drew close, then turned away before the search light could touch him. It gave no indication that it had even noticed his approach. Not even when he tossed a dusk relic directly at its head.
‘Huhhh,’ Link said once again.
That… almost seemed a little too easy. But if the sentinels really weren’t going to notice him this time around, then Link was hardly complaining. They’d caused him more than enough grief back in the previous trial.
Confident in his new discovery, Link strode forward and walked directly into a search light’s radius.
With an echoing shriek and a rush of wind, the sentinel burst apart, and the remaining petals of Link’s Spirit Vessel dropped away from their bud. The nearby Guardian jolted into wakefulness.
‘Oops,’ said Link.
In the approximately two seconds it took for him to consider maybe running away, it occurred to Link that he may not have entirely succeeded with the “wisdom” part of the trial. In a frantic attempt to recalibrate, he weighed the temptations of the nearby tear against the far more compelling desire to run away screaming, and promptly turned to do the latter.
It was about that time that a gigantic mace collided mercilessly with his side.
Ah, said Fi, is this the scenario you were referring to with regards to the words you previously requested that I not utter?
Face down on the ground once more, Link gave a miserable groan and a reluctant nod.
Fi gave a sympathetic chime. Two types of Watchers patrol the realm, looking for intruders, she explained. I highly suggest you take caution.
‘Yeah, I got that. Caution is good. Whoop dee doo,’ grumbled Link. He paused, then reconsidered. ‘Wait – two types?’
Indeed, Master, said Fi. So long as you do not step into their light, you will remain undetected by flying Sky Watchers. However, the Earth Watchers, who hover near the ground, will give chase if you come too close to them. Stay alert and maintain a safe distance.
Link groaned and dropped his head back to the ground. ‘Urgh. That makes sense. At least now I know.’ He dragged himself up with a mulish glare towards the Sky Watcher that had returned to its placid patrol. ‘Alright, I’m off. Back soon.’
The Guardian near the entrance was far less terrifying the second time around. Link dodged it effortlessly and claimed the first tear. He scaled the vines along the walls of the Lanayru Mining Facility for the second, then dropped down one side to claim the third. Just as he’d expected, it was entirely possible – albeit nerve-wracking – to weave in between the regular patrols of the floating Watchers. It did mean he had to press himself right up against one of the frozen Guardian figures along the way, but the figure stayed frozen and the search light soon passed them by. Link let out a shaky breath, collected the tear, and continued on his way.
It went smoothly from there, for the most part. A little puzzle solving and a few narrowly dodged hazards later, there were only four tears left to go. One of which happened to be stuck right in the midst of several Earth Watchers. No Guardians nearby, thankfully, so if worst came to worse, he could just rush it. Getting out afterwards might be a different story, but the search lights weren’t as dense on that side, so it would… probably be fine. In any case, he was out of the time he’d need to try and pick out a safer path. He would just have to risk it.
Link took a cautious step forward. Then another. Another. Quiet and careful. Easy does it.
There was a soft, clinking sound.
Light flickered to Link’s left, rapidly drawing closer.
‘Fuck it,’ grunted Link. ‘Plan B it is.’
Link broke into a sprint and charged right through a Watcher’s search light, completely ignoring its triumphant scream as he booked it for the closest Tear of Nayru. A far distant Guardian clanked and rumbled ominously as it approached, offering roughly the same level of challenge as Groose’s sad attempt at the Wing Ceremony. Once again, Link snatched up his prize with plenty of time to spare.
Everything went quiet. Guardians and Watchers alike returned to their previous positions. Link sank to the ground to catch his breath.
Several seconds passed, until, out of the corner of his eye, Link saw a petal flutter and fall from the delicate flower that acted as a timer for that wretched trial. With a few more curses and a lot more disgruntlement, Link climbed back to his feet and continued on his weary, begrudging way.
One new set of handheld gadgets and an hour or so of travel later, Link and Fi arrived at the outskirts of a vast stretch of empty golden desert.
‘A report, Master,’ said Fi. ‘This is Lanayru Sand Sea. This whole area was once a vast ocean, but the water has all evaporated, and now the area is sea of sand. Signs indicate that this place functioned as a port, linking the land to the sea.’
‘“Sea”?’ Link asked curiously. ‘Is that that thing you were talking about the other day? With all the water?’
‘Indeed, Master Link,’ said Fi. ‘An ocean, or sea, is a large body of salt water. It can be traversed using small vehicles known as “boats” or larger vehicles known as “ships”. A “port” acts as a departure point, similar to Skyloft’s diving platforms. If I am not mistaken, one such location, and one such vehicle, lies directly before us.’
Link looked down the long strip of ancient wood and metal that stretched out into the massive sandy fields beyond. It certainly resembled a diving platform, albeit far larger than those Link was accustomed to. As he wandered down to its far edge, Link found a small, dull brown contraption shaped like a private bathtub: presumably the boat Fi had mentioned. A Timeshift Stone poked out of the wide, flat end of the tub, while an object that looked distinctly like a cannon sat pride of place at the rounded end. Link walked up to inspect it, sparing a brief glance for the dusty ancient robot that sat nearby. He drew his sword and gently rapped the flat of the blade against the Timeshift Stone.
The sandy dunes dropped away, leaving a deep hollow that swiftly filled with shimmering turquoise water. The boat lifted a few centimetres higher to rest atop the pool, bobbing gently up and down. A few paces away, the ancient robot sputtered back to life with a quiet buzz of electricity.
‘It truly is a rather excessive quantity of sand,’ Fi remarked abruptly.
Link jolted. ‘Huh?’
Fi’s face was as expressionless as ever, but a note of irritation rang over their bond. ‘I refer to the geological contradiction you identified previously, Master,’ she informed him. ‘Having considered this dilemma further, I can only conclude –’
‘Hmm… who are you, bzzt?’ the adjacent robot asked curiously. ‘Some human, vrrm?’
Link shot a quick, panicked look at the robot, a similar glance at Fi, and then one more at the robot for good measure. ‘Uh – just hold on a moment, ok?’ he requested haphazardly. ‘Fi and I just need, uh, we just need a quick team huddle. Back soon!’
The robot buzzed with confusion as Link rushed past, Goddess Sword still gripped between his hands. He ran to a spot beyond the radius of the Timeshift Stone’s effect, dropped to the ground and turned to the unsheathed Goddess Sword – then to Fi, still hovering behind him.
‘Right. Ok,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Let’s talk about the sand.’
‘Here, Master Link?’ Fi asked dubiously.
‘Well, I don’t want to do it right in front of the robot!’ he clarified in an emphatic whisper. ‘The other ones didn’t seem to realise they weren’t in the past anymore. I don’t want to give this one an existential crisis or anything. Anyway: what were you saying about the sand?’
Fi looked over at the robot, now standing aimlessly and confusedly at the middle of the long platform, then looked back. ‘Forgive me the unfortunate lapse, Master. This is certainly not critical information,’ she advised reluctantly. ‘It is highly unlikely that the analysis in question will aid you in your quest.’
‘Ok, sure, but tell me anyway,’ Link insisted. ‘Did you end up coming up with an explanation for why there’s so much more sand now than there was in the past?’
‘I did not,’ Fi admitted.
‘Oh,’ said a surprised Link. ‘Really?’
‘In order to achieve a resolution as to the chronological contradictions you identified, I thought it prudent to begin with an analysis of the sand itself,’ Fi explained. ‘As I noted previously, the most common sources of sand, being quartz and feldspar, are highly resistant to erosion and therefore develop only gradually over the course of several million years. Some other forms of sand do, however, develop more rapidly. In particular, volcanic sand can develop instantly in certain environmental conditions, while biogenic sand is formed out of fragile materials, perhaps including ampilus shells, that break down much more quickly than silica structures. Upon closer analysis, I do indeed detect large quantities of both volcanic and biogenic materials within the Lanayru Desert – estimated at seven and twenty-four percent, respectively – along with smaller quantities of limestone and clay. The remaining material is however formed from silica and is found in far larger quantities than can be explained simply by the limited passage of time between the Lanayru green period and its present state. As you noted, it is also true that many of the rock formations present in the “before” state are not present in the “after” state, suggesting that erosion did indeed take place, albeit at a far more aggressive rate than current environmental conditions would suggest. Clearly, some other factor is at play here. I am however unable to identify what that factor might be.’
‘Oh,’ said Link, having understood only a small fraction of Fi’s brisk, vehement account. ‘Erm… so, what you’re saying is… it’s a mystery?’
‘It appears my analytical skills have failed in regards to your query, Master,’ a downcast Fi responded. ‘Please accept my apologies.’
Link quickly raised his hands in supplication and replied, ‘Whoa – it’s fine, Fi! It’s not a big deal, or anything; I was just curious. I guess it’s just one of those things that has no explanation, right? Like the psychic percussion section or whatever?’
‘I will identify an explanation, Master,’ Fi threatened. She paused, then sheepishly added, ‘…If the opportunity arises, that is. My apologies for the distraction from your core mission.’
Link waved a dismissive hand and replied, ‘All good. I’m the one that asked, remember? But for now: shall we go and talk to the robot?’
‘An excellent suggestion, Master,’ agreed Fi. With a faint chime of embarrassment, she shrank away into the blade once more. Link shrugged and returned the Goddess Sword to its sheath.
‘Bzzt. You’ve returned, then, phweeep,’ the robot commented as Link walked back into the radius of the Timeshift Stone.
‘Uh. Yeah,’ Link replied sheepishly. ‘Sorry for running off earlier. My name’s Link. Who’re you?’
‘Who am I, brrzrrt…?’ said the robot. ‘I am the proud skipper of the ship that protects Nayru’s Flame, phweep!’
Link perked up. ‘Nayru’s Flame, you say? It’s on a ship? And you’re the, uh… the skippy?’
A skipper is the captain, or commander, of a ship, Fi contributed.
‘Well… perhaps it would be more accurate to say I was the proud skipper of that ship, bzzrrt,’ the robot amended mournfully. ‘Vrrmm… it was the day of the storm, phoo-weep. My crew and I were navigating the seas as usual, vrrm. And then those brutes, bzzt… the pirates, suddenly attacked us, brrzt. They were after Nayru’s Flame, zzpt. My crew was imprisoned… vrrrt… and I was thrown into the sea! I drifted on the current to this port, vrrrrm. After that, I took this boat and went searching for my ship and crew, but they were nowhere to be found, bzzt. It haunts me, wondering where my ship could be, phweep… I’d bet my hat they’ve turned the ship invisible and are hiding out somewhere, vrrm! You can’t see it.’
‘Invisible?’ Link echoed. ‘Wait – ships can do that?’
Most cannot, Master, Fi stated helpfully.
‘In order to protect Nayru’s Flame, the ship has a function that allows it to become invisible, vweep,’ the robot clarified.
‘Oh. That’s… unfortunate.’
‘Vrrrm. Is it, bzzt?’
Link gave a sheepish laugh. ‘Ah, well… to tell you the truth, I’m actually looking for Nayru’s Flame, myself.’
‘You’re searching for Nayru’s Flame, bzzt?! You’re not with those pirates are you, vrrrrm?’ the robot asked fretfully.
‘Oh, no! Nothing like that!’ Link said quickly. ‘I just need that flame so I can find Zel– so I can find someone important to me!’ Under his breath, he asked, ‘Fi, what’s a pirate?’
While Fi gave a brief explanation of nautical armed robbery-related terminology, the skipper considered Link’s words.
‘So you need Nayru’s Flame to find someone important to you, vrrm…?’ it mused. ‘In that case, you should help me search for my ship and crew, phweep! If you’ll help me, vrzzzt, then I guess I’ll let you on my boat.’
‘Really? That’s great!’ Link enthused.
‘Hmm… but if you’re going to navigate these treacherous waters, then you need a proper sea chart, doo-weep!’ the skipper told him. ‘There is a sea chart in my shack at Skipper’s Retreat, bzzzt. So first you need to get on this boat and set a course for Skipper’s Retreat! Shall we shove off, vrrrm?’
‘Shall we do what now?’ Link asked blankly.
Leave, Fi translated helpfully.
‘Oh. I mean, yes! Absolutely!’ Link amended quickly. ‘Let’s definitely shove it!’
‘That’s the spirit, phweep!’ cheered the robot. ‘Alright, bzzrrt. All aboard, zrrt!’
The ocean was gorgeous. Travelling by boat was Link’s new favourite thing to do. Also, he was relatively sure he would kill and/or die for LD-301N Skipper at the slightest provocation.
‘I can’t stop thinking about that picture,’ Link moaned as he hurtled his way down a set of ancient, rickety, probably unsafe minecart tracks.
Fi helpfully intervened to guide the cart, and its rider, away from a lethal dead end. ‘Master Link,’ she responded, ‘it may be better to focus on navigation for the time being.’
‘But they all looked so happy,’ Link sniffled. ‘All of them, together on the big ship thing. But he never made it back. He just got stuck there at that port, forever searching, until he finally broke down and turned into a pile of rusty scrap metal. And now he’s still searching, as if no time had passed at all. Fi, that’s so sad. Why?! Why is the Goddess so cruel?’
‘Master Link,’ Fi said patiently. ‘It is highly unlikely that the Goddess Hylia was involved in this specific situation. And I really must insist you focus on –’
‘Fi, we cannot tell him about the Timeshift Stone,’ Link begged, even as he obligingly leaned to one side to keep the cart from plummeting off its rails and into the distant sandy sea. ‘Let’s just let him think he’s still in his own time. Alright?!’
Fi gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. ‘As you wish, Master Link.’
They reached the end of the mine track, and headed further into the ancient, yet surprisingly well preserved, complex.
‘Master,’ announced Fi, ‘we have arrived at the Shipyard construction bay. With the passing of many years, this structure has…’ She paused for a long moment. ‘…Has filled with sand.’
Fi halted once again, looking annoyed.
‘Too much sand?’ guessed Link.
‘An illogical quantity,’ Fi confirmed resentfully, ‘though the colouration and grain size differ from that of the desert proper, suggesting an alternate source. Perhaps a higher concentration of biogenic material? Further analysis is required. In the interim, I recommend looking in the sand for a clue that may direct you to the location of the ship.’
Link shrugged. ‘If you say so.’ He hopped down from the ledge and pulled out his gust bellows. As Fi had stated, the sand inside the factory was clearly different from that of the desert outside. As he blew air from his gust bellows, the fine grains lifted easily from the floor and flurried all around him in a dusty, murky cloud.
Something large and black poked out from beneath its shroud of pale sand. Link leaned in curiously, directing his gust bellows in that direction.
A gigantic, arachnid monster leapt out at him.
Ah, said Fi, that makes sense.
Link, for his own part, let out a pathetic, high-pitched screech.
‘Master, it would appear that in the many years this factory went unused, monsters have moved in and built a nest,’ Fi observed, one panicked, impromptu fight with a giant monster later. ‘I now estimate that the chance of finding a clue in the sand here as to the ship’s location is extremely low.’
‘I figured,’ huffed Link.
‘Additionally,’ Fi reported proudly, ‘the sand in this room closely matches the chemical composition of the Moldarach you just fought. While wind, occasional flooding, and damage to the building likely also shifted dust and sand from the external environment to the internal one, I conclude that the shells of many such creatures, both large and small, aged and juvenile, were the main contributors to its current state.’
Unpleasant, unwanted understanding dawned. ‘S-so, it’s uh… the sand is made out of…’ Link stammered.
‘Monster carapaces, yes,’ Fi confirmed gleefully. ‘How fascinating! Although genetically similar to the skulltula found in the Faron region, which are in turn visually similar to the common spiders of Skyloft, the combination of chitin and calcium carbonate found in the Moldarach exoskeleton also closely resembles –’
While Fi waxed lyrical about the scientific potential of monstrous arachnid exoskeletons and related taxonomical discoveries, Link looked down at the fine, white dust at his feet, on his feet, and all over his body. He felt a faint – probably imagined – crawling sensation, accompanied by the urge to maybe scrape off all of his skin, take several baths, and then set the bath on fire for good measure.
Perhaps Link went silent for a few moments too long. Fi tilted her head curiously in his direction. ‘Is something wrong, Master?’
She seemed happy. Link would die before he ruined that. He steeled his nerves.
‘No. Everything is… everything is fine,’ Link said faintly. ‘Giant spider things are great. Good work, Fi. Uh. Let’s… let’s get back to the boat.’
If there was anything that could make Link feel better about the thousand year arachnid dust spattered across his body and personal effects, it was surely the crystalline blue sea and the fresh, salty air.
‘This is nice,’ he told both of his companions. ‘This is real nice.’
‘There is nothing like the sea, brrzzt!’ LD-301N said happily. ‘Ah, if only my crew were here to enjoy it, vvrrrm!’
Link deflated. ‘Oh.’
‘But I’m sure they’re out there, somewhere, vweep,’ LD-301N continued wistfully. ‘The ocean is large, but the world is small, phweep. Even if the skies seem endless, we all share the same sun and moon, bzzrrrt. The same stars, too, zzrmm. I like to remember that, vrrrm. It reminds me of how we’re all together, even when we’re apart, brrrzzzt.’
Link clutched his aching heart and definitely didn’t cry, not even a little. ‘You – you can’t just say things like that, LD-301N,’ he choked out. ‘I-it’s ok to be sad. You don’t have to tough it out, you know?!’
‘I know, bzzrt,’ LD-301N agreed easily, ‘but there’s nothing to be sad about today, is there, Link? Today’s a wonderful day, vrrrm! I’d almost given up hope, but then you appeared, phoo-wheep. And now I’m back on the seas with a friend at my side once more, brrzzt. Who could have imagined, vrrt? Whether we find my crew or not, I’m glad we met, phweeeep. So, I’m not sad at all, bzzzt.’
Link continued to definitely not cry. ‘Oh, LD-301N,’ he definitely didn’t sob. ‘You’re a good guy. I’m going to find your crew if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘Bzzrt? No, I’m sure you’ll do much more after that, vvrrrt,’ LD-301N disputed. ‘You’re still young in human years, aren’t you, vrrm? Oh – but your ocular sensors seem to be leaking a little. Best to book in for some maintenance, phzzt.’
‘Will do,’ sobbed Link, who was maybe crying just a little at that point. (So what.)
They continued on their way.
‘Brrrzzrt. It looks like we’re close now, vrrm,’ the robot remarked after a while. ‘The Pirate Stronghold is right up ahead, bzzrrt. Tighten up whatever you humans have instead of bolts, and let’s get going, phoo-weep.’
Link nodded, tightened his metaphorical bolts, and carefully guided the boat in to dock.
The Pirate Stronghold ended up being a huge, terrifying structure shaped vaguely like the jaws of the monster from the Sealed Grounds. Thankfully, this version wasn’t moving. Link wasn’t sure he would’ve won that fight if it had.
‘This is easily as scary as I thought it would be, vrrm,’ LD-301N admitted as he followed Link out of the boat. ‘But if you think about it, those pirates should all be long dead by now, brrzrrt!’
‘Sure. I guess,’ Link agreed distractedly. The words caught up to him a moment later, and he froze. ‘Wait – what?!’
‘The only reason I’m up and about like this is because of that Timeshift Stone on the boat, phoo-weep!’ LD-301N went on. ‘So I have nothing to worry about, vrrm! I feel better now, Link. And so it’s time for you to go look for my ship, zrt! I’ll wait here, of course, bzzt.’
‘Wait. You – you knew?!’ Link choked out. ‘You knew about… about the Timeshift Stone, and about how –?!’
‘Hmm? Bzzt. Of course I knew, Link,’ said LD-301N. ‘I know how the Timeshift Stones work after all, phoo-weep. And I can see it, over there, vrrrm. It was a little fuzzy at first, and it didn’t make much sense, but… the sea’s all dried up over there, isn’t it, vweep? it’s been a long, long time, hasn’t it, bzzzrt? A long, long, long time…’
Link stared at him, stricken. ‘Are you… angry at me?’ he ventured hesitantly. ‘Are you angry that I brought you back like this?’
‘Bzzzrtt? Of course not, phweezzt!’ LD-301N said emphatically. ‘As I said earlier: isn’t it a rather wonderful day to be alive, bzzrrrt? To think I might actually get to see my crew again, vrrrrm! I’m very grateful to you, Link! Very, very grateful, bzzt. I only wish I could be more help, zzrrt.’
‘What?! No! You – you’ve been so much help already!’ Link choked out.
‘Well, I’m not so sure about that, bweeet,’ LD-301N said regretfully, ‘but if we can manage to find my ship… maybe I can at least help you find your special person, brrrzzt? I don’t want you to have any regrets, zzzzrt. Take it from me, vrrrm.’
Link stared at him for a long, long moment. He then turned to stare at the Pirate Stronghold.
‘Well,’ he said bleakly, ‘now it’s personal.’
‘I will fight the Goddess herself for that robot if I have to,’ Link threatened, several far less emotionally-damaging encounters with monsters, traps and environmental hazards later.
Fi hummed back at him. ‘To date, Master Link,’ she observed, ‘you have fought, without limitation, one Moldarach, one ancient mechanical pirate, twenty-seven deku babas, fifteen electro spumes, thirty-five technoblins and one Abyssal Leviathan for the robot in question.’
‘Well, I also did that for you. And for Zelda,’ Link amended sheepishly.
Fi hovered uncertainly before him for a moment. ‘In any case,’ she continued dauntlessly, ‘deicide is likely unnecessary at this juncture. The robot appears… satisfied.’
The two of them looked over to where the crew of the Sandship gathered. The captain stood at the centre of the group, spinning and flapping his hands in evident happiness.
‘Well,’ said Link, ‘good.’ He looked over to Fi, eyes taking in the faint blue glow that lingered across her ethereal form. ‘What about you?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Are you satisfied?’
The slightest of smiles flitted across her usually expressionless face as Fi replied, ‘Thanks to this latest tempering, my sensors have improved significantly. Not only in their range, but also their sensitivity and processing speed. You will be able to dowse for many more types of item from now on. I believe this ability will be most useful to you, Master. As such, I am, indeed, deeply satisfied.’
‘Well, good,’ Link said once more. He paused, then added, ‘Because that offer to fight the Goddess goes for you too, you know? Not saying I want to. But I will if I have to. Just saying.’
Reluctant amusement and a wave of deep fondness washed over their mental connection. ‘That is very kind of you, Master Link,’ Fi said dryly, ‘and let us both hope that it will not prove necessary.’
‘What? You think I’d lose?’ Link joked.
‘Worse,’ said Fi, ‘you might win.’
Link stared at her for a moment. Fi looked placidly back at him.
A grin stretched across Link’s face as he remarked, ‘Oh, you’re getting sassy now, huh?’
Fi gave a noncommittal hum, and shrank back into the Goddess Sword’s hilt. Her smug, unrepentant presence hummed across their soul bond, delighting in Link’s own delight.
‘Then I guess that’s that,’ Link concluded aloud. Still chuckling to himself, he strode over to join the sandship’s crew. ‘Hey!’ he called. ‘You guys need any help with the repairs?’
Pages Navigation
ScottieIsImpatient on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Nov 2022 03:43AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Nov 2022 05:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cullhach on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Nov 2022 04:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Nov 2022 05:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Attrytwo on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Nov 2022 10:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Nov 2022 10:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
SugarFuego on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Nov 2022 02:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Nov 2022 10:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Ladria on Chapter 1 Sat 05 Nov 2022 12:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
wildsage00 on Chapter 1 Tue 18 Apr 2023 05:12PM UTC
Comment Actions
Arecaceae on Chapter 1 Wed 15 Nov 2023 05:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 1 Thu 16 Nov 2023 05:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
MoonShoesThief on Chapter 1 Fri 04 Apr 2025 09:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
PocketChange_FallenStars on Chapter 2 Fri 02 Dec 2022 06:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
crayolaFeline on Chapter 2 Tue 27 Dec 2022 07:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 2 Thu 29 Dec 2022 12:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rubber Chicken With A Keyboard (RCWAK) on Chapter 2 Thu 06 Apr 2023 09:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
wildsage00 on Chapter 2 Tue 18 Apr 2023 05:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Arecaceae on Chapter 2 Wed 15 Nov 2023 08:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 2 Thu 16 Nov 2023 05:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
DarthAsh18 on Chapter 2 Sun 24 Aug 2025 11:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cullhach on Chapter 3 Sat 07 Jan 2023 03:24PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 07 Jan 2023 03:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 3 Sun 02 Apr 2023 08:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
Bigorneaux on Chapter 3 Sat 21 Jan 2023 12:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 3 Sun 02 Apr 2023 08:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
bunnywabbit29 on Chapter 3 Thu 30 Mar 2023 05:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
CuteButAlsoStabby on Chapter 3 Sun 02 Apr 2023 08:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
wildsage00 on Chapter 3 Tue 18 Apr 2023 05:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
Arecaceae on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Nov 2023 01:22PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation