Author's Note: You are owed an apology. I have categorized this story as taking place in no specific world. This is only partially true; chronology-wise, this story takes place in New Hyrule, i.e. after Spirit Tracks. I haven't categorized this as such because this story only involves which era it takes place in. Otherwise, you will likely notice an absence of the Spirit Tracks, and a slight skewing of the geography—I confess that I'm doing much of this by ear. I take these liberties partly for convenience, but also so that this story doesn't suffer in the shadow of Spirit Tracks. In other words, I'm approaching this story with the same looseness towards the lore, just as most Legend of Zelda games. Though to point out my hypocrisy, this story will potentially suffer in the shadow of another certain Zelda game. That is done intentionally.

Chapter 1: The Bellboy

We know little of what came before, but the following we know for certain.

Two travelers landed on this land now called Hyrule. These were travelers who had seen their own share of trials, and were content to leave behind the tools that granted them victory. Now, they set to their duty of finding land to make into a new kingdom.

Over time, with these travelers leaving this life long ago, their descendants would brave their own trials, and forge their own victory. And so came the age we live in today. With the ancient Dawn Sentinels watching over us.

We know little of what came before, but this we know for certain.

A single eye cracked open. Opening the second as well, he looked over to the clock. 3 A.M.

In his mind, 3 A.M. was the time when the guests would begin to formulate their reasons for not confronting any suspicious noises they might hear. One fraction of the guests would try and convince themselves they were only hearing the spawn of a sleep-deprived mind's imagination. Another fraction would resort to their talent of ignoring, and continue to sleep on through. As for those who decided it was too much and had to tell him off for keeping them awake, the best he could try was some obnoxious nonsense about the early Cucco getting the worm.

The boy slid out of bed, walking across the humble room, to the chest on the other side.

Opening it, he saw the bellboy uniform neatly folded at the top of the pile. But it was not the uniform he came for. On top of the outfit was a wooden handle protruding out of cloth tightly wound over a thin object as long as his torso. On another hand, this was hardly impressive, as the topic of his lacking height was best left alone.

Picking up the bundle, he unwrapped the wooden sword from its makeshift scabbard.

He positioned himself in the one spot in his room where, no matter where he swung his dull weapon, the arc of his attacks would be accommodated.

He knew that the Stalfos suddenly standing before him was only his imagination, but it worked for him. The hunched conglomerate of bones hurled an underhanded swing at him. In response, the youth slanted his body sharply to the right, expertly avoiding the strike while also earning the opening and making a quick hack at the skeleton's wrist. The hand stayed connected, but a deep scar was now on the bone.

The abomination only grew more enraged at the injury, launching itself into a flurry of blind swings. Its opponent had no time to counter, only block. Finally, the Stalfos reared it's arm back and cleaved downward. The hero nimbly hopped to the side as the monster embedded it's clumsy blade into the floor. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, the Hylian responded with a flurry of his own.

Suddenly, the boy's imagination fled him, and the Stalfos vanished. He had messed up the footing, and was now face first on the carpet. He heard his sword clatter behind him.

He rubbed his now-sore forearm while getting to his feet. Odd. The sword was now in front of him, tossed haphazardly against the wall under the window. Didn't it land behind him, like he heard?

Giving it no more thought than attributing it to a trick of panic, he proceeded to replace the weapon back where it came from; re-wrapping the cloth, and closing the chest once it was replaced.

Enough practice, he decided.

Getting back in bed, Link resumed sleeping.

If ever a doubt formed around the opulence, verticality, and by consequence the costliness of the Lanayru Balcony hotel, it was easily dispelled with the reminder that the composing Staccato Brothers had once stayed at the top floor's penthouse during their kingdom-wide tour. And if any doubt formed around the popularity of the Staccato Brothers and their music, it was easily dispelled with the evidence of a prowler found the morning after: An abandoned pair of scissors, and the remnants of a rug hanging from the balcony railing as a makeshift rappel. The poor soul had apparently been locked out of the penthouse proper.

The hotel itself was many miles away from Castle Town, and by extension the castle itself. The architect, wanting no suspicion of desiring the overthrow of the Royal Family, purposefully made the architecture suitably more modest than the castle.

The hotel was still grand in its own right; seven floors, the first being reserved for guest lounge, the third for the kitchen, and the second for the staff's housing.

Link stepped out of bed, still nursing his arm. Before making another trip to his chest, he looked out his window.

For the past few days, the dawn had been arresting his attention. If he was ever asked, he would decline to explain, only on the premise that he couldn't. He had been told he had an active imagination, but he somehow wondered if the sun had learned the concept of worry. Most people explained that the sun rose every day out of obligation, but to Link, he somehow had gotten the idea that it was also "keeping an eye" on Hyrule. Like a mother fretting over her child playing in the open all by himself.

Like the other days prior, he dismissed the curiosity, and continued to retreive the uniform from his chest. The sword would have to wait again until 3 A.M. tomorrow. The boy made his way to the lobby to report for duty.

The entrance lobby of the Lanayru Balcony was an eighty foot hallway with three equidistant sets of four steps descending towards the exit. On the opposite side was the front desk.

Near the desk, Link spotted a familiar figure. It was Vozali, the Rito artist. The type of art produced by Vozali was of gunpowder and colored explosions in the sky. His black hair was tied into a ponytail that bristled out like the head of a broom. Presently, he was contemplating a firework rocket wrapped in red paper.

"You have a show tonight?" The bellboy asked.

Vozali smirked, "Right here at the hotel, actually. Unfortunately, I wanna do something different. I'm getting this feeling that I've just been giving the same show year after year."

A voice behind made Link jump, "So even pyromaniacs get writing block, then."

Link turned with relief in his face, "Acia! I thought you were Mr. Ivruk."

Vozali followed the voice as well, seeing Link's cousin behind the desk. If he didn't know any better, he'd have pegged her as the boy's sister. Acia's hair was like Link's, only a shade or so more red. Her eyes seeming even more cat-like than her cousin.

Vozali placed a hand on his chin, "Mr. Ivruk, the owner? I heard he can be a nightmare to deal with."

Acia nodded, "He's much better than the previous owner, but if you give him a reason to be upset, he will let you know." She cocked her towards Link, "Usually, it's because Link overslept."

Before Link could protest, the telephone behind the desk rang. A bell-like object attached, by a short length of cord, to a wall-mounted box from which a similarly bell-shaped mouthpiece protruded.

Acia lifted the bell-like object off the hook, put it to her ear, spoke a rehearsed, "Hotel front desk," Into the mouthpiece And received her request from whoever spoke on the other side.

The clerk's face fell, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'm sorry, we've been having trouble with that room... Yes, the exact same writing... No! We just can't seem to catch whoever's responsible! Mr. Ivruk has talked about hiring a hotel detective... Yes, we will certainly move you to another room. Sorry for the incident." Acia hung the handle back on the hook, then sighing as she leaned back against the desk.

Concern crossed Link's face, "Don't tell me...someone's—"

"Yep." Acia confirmed, pinching the bridge of her nose again, "219's been...modified again."

"219?" Vozali repeated.

Link sighed, "Our supposed haunted room. Every hotel needs one, apparently." The boy shrugged in resignation, "Duty calls, then."

"Wait," Vozali asked, "What about tonight's party? Don't you have anything ready?"

Another voice joined in, "Ready for what?"

Bellboy, clerk and pyrotechnician looked and saw a Deku Scrub approaching the front desk. He was about Link's height, and wore a yellow conical cap along with an unassuming mustache. These were the marks of a Deku merchant.

Acia was the first to answer, "Landing Night. There's a costume party landing later tonight."

The Deku brushed his mustache in a way that almost seemed rehearsed, "And this 'Landing Night' is..."

"Landing Day," Vozali began, "is the day when the Hylians first found this continent and began settling."

The merchant turned on Vozali, squinting, "How would you know about Hylian Holidays?"

Vozali shrugged, "Why not? They're my friends."

"Friends?" The Deku squawked, "The only friends a Rito can make is with a bird feeder."

Link realized where the conversation was likely to head, and made himself scarce as a result. Knowing what had to be done, he started the journey to room 219.

He hoped in vain that taking care of the room this time would take not as long. Opening the door, the bellboy groaned at the renewed vandalism.

On every wall, neatly painted in big green letters, were the words, "KOOLOO-LIMPAH!" four times over. On the floor were piles upon piles of popped balloons.

Link began wading through a particularly high mound that encircled the bed. The Ghost of Room 219 was never content with the immediate appearance of the prank, and had always insisted on stuffing the pillowcases with the corpses of yet more balloons.

When he heard something metal hit his foot, the boy looked down at the sea of multicolored rubber.

Please no, he silently begged, not something new.

He reluctantly submerged his hand in the destruction, fearing the worst. What if their unknown phantom finally planted something dangerous? Was it a bear trap? Fortunately, it wasn't. Link felt something narrow and Leathery in his hands. Curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled up the salvage.

It was a scabbard. Two lengths of leathered wood held together, with metal casings at both ends. Looking closer, he realized that it seemed a perfect fit for the secret weapon back in his room.

Absolutely not, he first thought to himself, I wouldn't take a mountain of rupees from whoever's doing all this.

Still holding the scabbard, Link started towards the door to get a rake and several trash bins. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and looked back at the unfortunate balloons. Suppose he decided to take a handful of the victims, and kept in them in his room as a souvenir. Acia might raise an eyebrow, but Mr. Ivruk wouldn't give two seconds of thought about it. Would keeping a mysterious scabbard really be that different? It couldn't have come from the guests originally given this room; they were Deku Scrubs like the merchant.

He looked around the room. How does one hide a scabbard? He spied the trash bin. It was completely empty, but that was hardly a problem. All around the room were the materials for concealment, as well as cushioning.

Link left Room 219 with the trash bin in his hands, limp balloons heaped several inches beyond the rim to hide the smuggled scabbard. The boy looked to and fro, wary of wherever suspicious guests might be lurking. The boy was sure he hid his treasure well enough, but if the disguise came under even the lightest scrutiny, he worried that the balloons would fall off right there, as if willed by their own ghosts.

As such, he was looking back over his shoulder when he walked into a guest.

After an exchange of exclamations, the guest readjusted his glasses. It was then that Link realized that the scourge of a guest he was on the lookout for was none other than Shad, who was now standing before him. He was four years Link's senior, which brought him up to match Acia's age. He wore a dark purple suit coat, a matching ascot, and slicked back hair.

"Ah." He observed, "Good morning, Link." He looked down at the trash bin, and chuckled, "I assume that—"

"Yes!" The bellboy squeaked, trying not to sound nervous, "Room 219."

Shad shrugged, "The Ghost of the Lanayru Balcony strikes again." He looked Link over. "Say. You're not in your outfit. Do you even have one?"

Looking back on prior experiences, Link was certain Shad asked this question for a reason. "No. I'm on the reserve list this year." As odd as it sounded, Link was thankful for this. Mr. Ivruk couldn't let all his staff go on leave for the celebration. Some were still needed to take care of any trouble that may arise with the hotel. Such as another invasion of Room 219.

"That's a shame." Shad sighed, "I'm not dressing up as anyone, myself. I would've loved to see what you would go as, however. I suppose it can't be helped."

His statement made, the scholar continued on his way. Link breathed a sigh of relief, Well, that was painless.

The bellboy continued on his way, until he finally brought his new acquisition to his room. As he worked for the rest of the day, the bellboy's practice weapon rested in its new home.

Author's Note: I have done minor clean-up, but I'm still unsure about spelling and grammar.

As such, calling all Grammar Nazis.

Either way, we're in for the long haul.

~Trande

EDIT: Minor adjustment to the location of the Lanayru Balcony hotel.

EDIT: New summary; an excerpt from Chapter 4.