Slavers
Disclaimer: See your (or a friend's copy) of any of the Zelda games.
This idea hit me at a most inopportune time (during an essay). However, I conceded and wrote, because it interested me. Just a brief (very brief) insight into the life of the slaves Ganondorf must surely have had during the seven years of darkness. And, has Sheik darting in for a little while. I'm not planning to take this anywhere (but, most of the time, I get persuaded to anyway, so don't take this to heart.)
Notice that I tried this in third person... I despise writing in third person...
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
"Move will you, we don't have all day!"
"Actually, to be precise, all day is what we do have."
"Oh, stop being so pedantic you wench and get moving! The quicker this is done, the quicker we're out of this storm!"
"Oh, just get out of my way; I can do it myself anyway!"
"Fine, if that's how you want it to go..."
Druscilla sighed as the other slaves around her argued. That was Thor and Amelia, arguing over the workload as usual. She just kept her head down, squinting against the blowing sands and carried on moving the crates as quickly as she could. And, just as she had predicted, one of the guards came around, and used lashes of both whip and tongue to hush the arguers. Would anything ever change? It seemed like things had been like this all her life - she'd never admit it to others, but she truly couldn't remember anything of her life before the slavers had come and taken her away.
That had been a long while ago. Long enough for her to have grown up, to have fathomed that the best way to survive was to not argue, and to understand that a knight in shining armour would not be rescuing her anytime soon. "Hey, Dru, move yourself child!" That was Thor, hurrying by with one of the larger crates in his arms. Something gold and shining pointed out of the top of it, and she took it to be one of the King's treasures. One of many.
"You there, stop slacking!" she'd been spotted standing still by one of the Gerudo for just a little too long. Crack went the whip across her back, but she was so used to it, she did little more than mutter a curse under her breath and return to work. Such was the way of a slave after all - head down, mouth shut, and get on with it.
She'd seen what happened to the slaves that argued. It wasn't pretty; and for some reason, the torture always seemed to involve hanging the dismembered body parts from pikes on the wall of the fortress. Goddesses knew why - perhaps the King thought they looked nice or something...
Druscilla stopped wondering about the workings of her master's mind, and made her way back across to the storage room to get another of the crates. They were (for some inexplicable reason) being moved to the Castle town, to the old army quarters. Perhaps the King wanted his belongings closer to? That would explain it a little...
A younger child (most likely a new one) stumbled in the sand, and as soon as he was down, the Gerudo descended on him with glee, snapping whips, kicking and punching for all they were worth. When they backed away, the boy was bloodied and did not get up. She thought of walking by, worrying about the guards all around, but was pushed out of line by Amelia. "Go on Dru; you may as well put that magic of yours to use."
"Hush!" She hissed back, angered by the mere mention of the word. However, the Gerudo had discarded the boy, favouring to watch the young men, and smirk each time the whip came cracking down. Druscilla stumbled over to the boy, keeping low, and not daring to look around for fear of meeting someone's eyes and seeing extra pain to add to her own store.
The boy was whimpering now, sand clinging to the crimson blood that was beginning to stain the floor. She stooped down, and after another last cautious look around, turned him over - on instinct, the boy raised his hands above his head, and closed his eyes tight. "I'll not hurt you boy," she whispered, barely managing to force the words from her lips. It'd been so long since she'd last spoken...
"Y-you won't?" he opened his eyes, seemingly genuinely surprised at the statement. She too was surprised; they were red! This - this was a Sheikah. She'd heard of them, certainly, but never did she think she'd seen one up close.
"I won't," she managed to answer, remembering good etiquette. "Can you sit?"
"I think I can," he winced, but managed to get up by himself. "Goddesses, that hurts!" he exclaimed, and Druscilla looked behind her in worry, fearing the loud voice had carried to the Gerudo. Luckily, it had not, and she put a finger to her lips in warning. He nodded in understanding, winced again, and then abruptly fell backwards onto the sand, eyes shuttering closed.
She had no idea what was going on, as the boy set about thrashing his arms and legs, and a keening sound, soft, but still piercing, escaped him. All she could think to do was try and hold him still so that he didn't do damage to himself, and also to stop the blood from leaving his wounds too quickly.
When the fit was over, the boy opened his eyes, and carried on as though it had never happened, sitting up once more. "Could you help me stand?"
"What just happened?" she had forgotten her work now through pure curiosity.
"Pardon?"
"You just..." she gestured to the disturbed sand - as she did so, the scarf over her mouth and nose dropped, and quickly she yanked it back upwards, to keep the sand off. The boy's eyes widened, and he reached up a shaky hand to remove his own scarf, to show pale, smooth young cheeks...and glimmering silver tears falling from the corners of each eye. Druscilla gasped quietly.
"You there!" a Gerudo strode over, and slapped her whip (which was curled) menacingly against her thigh. "Get up and stop slacking."
"Sorry m'lady," Druscilla replied quietly. "I was just healing this slave; then we shall get back to work."
"Make it quick then," the Gerudo stood, hands on hips, foot tapping impatiently. Nervous of the stare of the woman, Druscilla's healing spell came only half formed, so was not as effective as it might have been. However, it seemed to satisfy the boy and Gerudo alike. "Move it." The guard wandered off, leaving Druscilla and the Sheikah boy standing alone.
"I - thank you," the boy muttered, pulling his scarf back up. Then, sneaking a look around, he found Druscilla's hand, and shook it. "Sheik of the Sheikah."
"Druscilla of the Hylians," she replied, unsure of what she was supposed to say. Not wanting to be reprimanded again, she took off towards the store once more. The boy followed, silently studying her with unnervingly intelligent eyes. Normally, the clever ones were killed; lest they cause trouble...such was the way of the slavers.
He thought about the vision he'd just had, and smiled. Four years from now, and the Hero would return. Then, these Gerudo wouldn't be so blasted ready with those whips and beatings.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
Wasn't that fun? [Grumbles about hatred of third person writing.] Can't write third person - shoot me before this gets out of hand.
Soda
Disclaimer: See your (or a friend's copy) of any of the Zelda games.
This idea hit me at a most inopportune time (during an essay). However, I conceded and wrote, because it interested me. Just a brief (very brief) insight into the life of the slaves Ganondorf must surely have had during the seven years of darkness. And, has Sheik darting in for a little while. I'm not planning to take this anywhere (but, most of the time, I get persuaded to anyway, so don't take this to heart.)
Notice that I tried this in third person... I despise writing in third person...
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
"Move will you, we don't have all day!"
"Actually, to be precise, all day is what we do have."
"Oh, stop being so pedantic you wench and get moving! The quicker this is done, the quicker we're out of this storm!"
"Oh, just get out of my way; I can do it myself anyway!"
"Fine, if that's how you want it to go..."
Druscilla sighed as the other slaves around her argued. That was Thor and Amelia, arguing over the workload as usual. She just kept her head down, squinting against the blowing sands and carried on moving the crates as quickly as she could. And, just as she had predicted, one of the guards came around, and used lashes of both whip and tongue to hush the arguers. Would anything ever change? It seemed like things had been like this all her life - she'd never admit it to others, but she truly couldn't remember anything of her life before the slavers had come and taken her away.
That had been a long while ago. Long enough for her to have grown up, to have fathomed that the best way to survive was to not argue, and to understand that a knight in shining armour would not be rescuing her anytime soon. "Hey, Dru, move yourself child!" That was Thor, hurrying by with one of the larger crates in his arms. Something gold and shining pointed out of the top of it, and she took it to be one of the King's treasures. One of many.
"You there, stop slacking!" she'd been spotted standing still by one of the Gerudo for just a little too long. Crack went the whip across her back, but she was so used to it, she did little more than mutter a curse under her breath and return to work. Such was the way of a slave after all - head down, mouth shut, and get on with it.
She'd seen what happened to the slaves that argued. It wasn't pretty; and for some reason, the torture always seemed to involve hanging the dismembered body parts from pikes on the wall of the fortress. Goddesses knew why - perhaps the King thought they looked nice or something...
Druscilla stopped wondering about the workings of her master's mind, and made her way back across to the storage room to get another of the crates. They were (for some inexplicable reason) being moved to the Castle town, to the old army quarters. Perhaps the King wanted his belongings closer to? That would explain it a little...
A younger child (most likely a new one) stumbled in the sand, and as soon as he was down, the Gerudo descended on him with glee, snapping whips, kicking and punching for all they were worth. When they backed away, the boy was bloodied and did not get up. She thought of walking by, worrying about the guards all around, but was pushed out of line by Amelia. "Go on Dru; you may as well put that magic of yours to use."
"Hush!" She hissed back, angered by the mere mention of the word. However, the Gerudo had discarded the boy, favouring to watch the young men, and smirk each time the whip came cracking down. Druscilla stumbled over to the boy, keeping low, and not daring to look around for fear of meeting someone's eyes and seeing extra pain to add to her own store.
The boy was whimpering now, sand clinging to the crimson blood that was beginning to stain the floor. She stooped down, and after another last cautious look around, turned him over - on instinct, the boy raised his hands above his head, and closed his eyes tight. "I'll not hurt you boy," she whispered, barely managing to force the words from her lips. It'd been so long since she'd last spoken...
"Y-you won't?" he opened his eyes, seemingly genuinely surprised at the statement. She too was surprised; they were red! This - this was a Sheikah. She'd heard of them, certainly, but never did she think she'd seen one up close.
"I won't," she managed to answer, remembering good etiquette. "Can you sit?"
"I think I can," he winced, but managed to get up by himself. "Goddesses, that hurts!" he exclaimed, and Druscilla looked behind her in worry, fearing the loud voice had carried to the Gerudo. Luckily, it had not, and she put a finger to her lips in warning. He nodded in understanding, winced again, and then abruptly fell backwards onto the sand, eyes shuttering closed.
She had no idea what was going on, as the boy set about thrashing his arms and legs, and a keening sound, soft, but still piercing, escaped him. All she could think to do was try and hold him still so that he didn't do damage to himself, and also to stop the blood from leaving his wounds too quickly.
When the fit was over, the boy opened his eyes, and carried on as though it had never happened, sitting up once more. "Could you help me stand?"
"What just happened?" she had forgotten her work now through pure curiosity.
"Pardon?"
"You just..." she gestured to the disturbed sand - as she did so, the scarf over her mouth and nose dropped, and quickly she yanked it back upwards, to keep the sand off. The boy's eyes widened, and he reached up a shaky hand to remove his own scarf, to show pale, smooth young cheeks...and glimmering silver tears falling from the corners of each eye. Druscilla gasped quietly.
"You there!" a Gerudo strode over, and slapped her whip (which was curled) menacingly against her thigh. "Get up and stop slacking."
"Sorry m'lady," Druscilla replied quietly. "I was just healing this slave; then we shall get back to work."
"Make it quick then," the Gerudo stood, hands on hips, foot tapping impatiently. Nervous of the stare of the woman, Druscilla's healing spell came only half formed, so was not as effective as it might have been. However, it seemed to satisfy the boy and Gerudo alike. "Move it." The guard wandered off, leaving Druscilla and the Sheikah boy standing alone.
"I - thank you," the boy muttered, pulling his scarf back up. Then, sneaking a look around, he found Druscilla's hand, and shook it. "Sheik of the Sheikah."
"Druscilla of the Hylians," she replied, unsure of what she was supposed to say. Not wanting to be reprimanded again, she took off towards the store once more. The boy followed, silently studying her with unnervingly intelligent eyes. Normally, the clever ones were killed; lest they cause trouble...such was the way of the slavers.
He thought about the vision he'd just had, and smiled. Four years from now, and the Hero would return. Then, these Gerudo wouldn't be so blasted ready with those whips and beatings.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
Wasn't that fun? [Grumbles about hatred of third person writing.] Can't write third person - shoot me before this gets out of hand.
Soda