Stubborn Bird, Stubborn Boy
Pipit sat down in the academy kitchen to eat his fourth meal. To those getting off night watch, it was dinner. For the early-bird students who wanted to get a head start on their Saturday studying, it was breakfast. For Pipit, it was a dinner before bed, and then they could sleep until the evening, when he'd be on duty again.
On weekends, Pipit kept his watch from 6 at night until 6 in the morning twice a week. Twelve hours a shift. That's what was needed to keep Skyloft safe. And it wasn't so bad. Pipit got to watch both sunset and sunrise from the back of his loftwing. And he only fell asleep in class a little more than everybody else.
Joining his fellows in the cafeteria, a memory struck Pipit. Link. He remembered back when the wide-eyed boy had shared a room with him at the academy, back when Pipit had purposefully woken early enough to eat breakfast with the night watchmen's dinner. The boy would follow him and listen to the knight's tales with wide eyes, and would then steal Pipit's bed for an hour-long nap before breakfast was called for the rest of the students, while Pipit took the time for some extra training with Eagus.
Pipit had been a determined child. That's why he was chosen for patrol so young.
That's odd, thought Pipit, sweeping his gaze over the room. There's several knights who haven't checked back in yet.
But with a shrug the Pipit turned to his soup, figuring they were just being honorable, helping some poor loftwing that might have gotten lost find it's way back to it's nest on the underside of Skyloft where the birds slept.
"Pipit, may I talk with you?" said Instructor Owlan, approaching.
"Oh, yes of course, sir," Pipit said, standing and walking, back ramrod straight as always, out of the kitchens.
"Such a serious kid," mumbled one of the knights at Pipit's table, sighing off a long night of patrolling and nonchalantly sliding Pipit's practically untouched soup towards himself.
"Instructor?" Pipit asked as Owlan walked through the academy doors and outside. He seemed worried.
"Pipit, we have a situation," Professor Owlan said solemnly. "One of the night patrols spotted a stranded Loftwing and his rider on one of the far islands."
"Who was it?" Pipit asked, "Were they able to rescue them?"
"No. You see, this is particularly—er, fiery—loftwing won't allow any other flyer to get close to its owner."
"Can the rider not control the bird either?"
"The rider is face-down on the island, unmoving. So, no, he can't."
There was silence. "…What would you have me do, Instructor?" Pipit asked.
"Pipit, since you have proved your loyalty to this academy many times, I ask for your help. The island is out that way," Owlan said, pointing, "And you can recognize it by the riders already circling it. Be careful, the bird has already harmed several others."
"I will, Instructor," Pipit finished, bowing quickly before heading outside and sprinting for the nearest skydock. He barreled off it and carved the air with the sharp whistle that summoned his loftwing, a feathered bird of bright purple suddenly bearing him up and away.
His deep-colored loftwing caught an early rise of air, letting it bring them upwards, where the breaking sun caught them, making them glisten as if suspended in amber. Pipit's lilac mount felt the wind streaming across her with glee, and sensing her master's usual urgency, she flew to the island his mind was so focused on, the island circled by a many loftwings trying to fly close enough to grab a tiny, limp, Hylian form.
Pipit squinted hard through the wind as his bird cut the air, a knife of royal purple. But Pipit could still barely make out the specks that his loftwing's sharp gaze separated easily.
Lilac felt her master straining to see, and with a shift of consciousness a new vision crossed his eyes. Suddenly there was no wind bleeding his sight to tears, and he could see much farther. He could see the loftwing Owlan had mentioned, crouching on the floating rock, snapping at any rescue attempts.
His stomach pitted.
It was bright red. There was only one Crimson Loftwing. And that meant that there was only one person who could be on that island, unconscious, face-down, and unmoving. Link.
Link. The boy Pipit remembered sharing a room with when he'd first been at the academy, the boy who followed him to breakfast like a shadow and tailed him no matter what he did until the kid got his own loftwing, a fierce thing who would listen to no one but Link. The thing was a terror, obsessively loyal and requiring a very stern trainer, and one who was particularly good at staring contests.
The thing was ferocity, loyalty, and passion incarnate. When Link had taken to sleeping in the academy after Zelda had discovered he'd been sleeping rough for a month since his parents had died, the beast had put up a fight. It had snatched Link right from his bed on the first night, having entered through the upper floor and then presuming to smash down Pipit's door with its beak. The fire-brand bird had reared on Pipit, amber eyes flaring like coals on fire, and it had hissed and chattered and loomed, sharp beak poised to attack Link's 'kidnapper'.
But Link had quickly thrown a pillow at the beast, and it reeled toward him, where Link met it with a stare that cut to the soul. Link pointed to the door, and Crimson had hissed in his face in rebellion. But Link grabbed Crim's beak by the nostrils and dragged him close, making him hold the stare for even longer.
Chills had raced up and down Pipit's spine as he witnessed will fight will, and a 70 pound kid triumph over a three-hundred pound bird.
Crimson had submitted and obeyed Link. But the bird left smiling with joy at how strong his rider was as he obediently stalked out of the academy and launched into the sky.
Pipit swallowed. Owlan must have picked him because he figured that the Crimson might recognize Link's friend and not harm him. Far from it, Pipit figured. It was more likely he'd be bird scraps faster that anyone else because this bird didn't want his rider keeping company with a weakling like Pipit, a kid who showed fear. And even more, Crimsons never forgot. The bird would immediately recognize Pipit as the 'kidnapper' from so many years ago.
Lilac, Pipit's loftwing, swooped low to the island, calling out to the red bird on its surface. Are you okay? She cried innocently, in her soft bird-cry.
Rage exploded from the island above. GET GONE. GET GONE. LEAVE ALONE.
Lilac shuddered at the rude response. Her feathers shivered. She could feel her master trembling on her back, scared to death at the beast crouching over—oh no. Oh no, that wasn't good at all.
Pipit nudged Lilac for a view feed of Link's injuries, as from where they coasted the loftwing could spy the damage much more accurately. Gulping, Lilac ignored the requests. This boy was her master's friend, she knew. She could feel his worry for him radiating from his place on her back. She could feel every tumultuous emotion tumbling within Pipit, and she was picking up waves of fear coursing from the Crimson.
Now that was odd. Crimsons were brave, bold, never fearful. They did the absurdly dangerous with nothing but a grin at the prospected adrenaline.
But this bird's human was hurt, bleeding out slowly into the grass slick with red. He was fading, and they could both tell. And so Crimson lunged out in fear, attacking people who just wanted to help. Crimsons were fiercely loyal only to their owners, rejecting all other humans and loftwings. This bird had no idea what had happened to his master, and so he fought outward in mistrust of everything. The only person who could talk sense into the panicked thing was Link himself. But Link was unable to do anything.
Lilac, knowing her master would never sum up the courage on his own, dove boldly unto the island and landed on a spot of open grass.
She prayed desperately that her boy would use his head.
Pipit numbly got off his loftwing's back. He had to do something. Run in and try to grab Link? He was about to try when the Crimson Loftwing screeched with the volume of thunder and moved to strike him.
Pipit flinched at the noise and raised an arm to defend himself when he became inexplicable entangled in the sharp honey-yellow of the Crimson's eyes.
The bird sized him up briefly, and as their gazes met again a foreign thought prodded his conscious. He gulped again as he remembered Link staring the Crimson down that morning this beast had destroyed his door. It was this or nothing, Pipit thought, and just as the bird moved again to attack him he shouted telepathically, No!
Pipit's face was unshaken and serious. The bird rose to the challenge, edging nearer and nearer, trying to back this new opponent off the cliff.
No!
Just who do you think you are, mustard-yellow boy? Crimson sneered.
Pipit kept his gaze, unblinking.
I remember you. I remember your fear. And it's so strong, even now, that I can taste it. There was a clap as the bird snapped its beak together.
"Back down," Pipit warned in a low growl.
NO! The loftwing screeched in his mind, the force unbearable. But Pipit managed not to flinch, not to blink. Barely.
"Back down!" Pipit growled even louder.
NO!
"BACK. DOWN."
The Crimson Loftwing arched its neck and put its forehead against Pipit's. Why? It barked into his mind.
"Link is hurt. He needs help. You are hurting him, keeping him here. He is DYING."
The Crimson loftwing ruffled its feathers. Not impressed, it huffed, and turned away.
Rage boiled within Pipit. He wheeled on the bird and grabbed its beak by the nostril holes close to its eyes. The bird shrieked and reeled, unable to escape Pipit staring him down.
"LINK IS DYING! ARE YOU SO PROUD YOU WILL LET YOUR MASTER DIE?!" Pipit shrieked at the bird, driven to desperation.
The Crimson cracked a smile. So I am not the only one who remembers, it crooned. You copy my master from all those years ago.
"Is this a game to you?!" Pipit screamed. "Why didn't you take him to get help as soon as you found him like this?! He could be dead by now!"
The loftwing hissed ferociously. But fear finally flared up in its eyes.
"You're scared!"
The loftwing opened his mouth and shrieked, nearly deafening Pipit. The man stood unfazed.
"You don't have to be afraid. We can save him, if you just let us take him to the main island."
The Crimson stared Pipit down long and hard, before finally stepping to the side and exposing Link's body.
Pipit rushed to the boy. "Link, can you hear me?" he called, but there was no response. He felt a precarious pulse wobbling at the edge of death in Link's neck, and checking for neck injuries and finding no obvious ones, he lifted the knight up and secured him to Lilac, who was now having her own staring contest with Crimson.
The two of them took off, skirting the winds as they rushed back. The other knights flew in formation around them, so that Link would be caught if he slipped off.
They landed safely on the island, by the academy. Pipit eased Link's motionless body off of Lilac and carried him inside. The kid was pale, too pale…..
"Instructor Owlan!" Pipit called as he pushed open the door with his back. "Headmaster Gaepora!? Anybody?!"
"Pipit, dear?" cried the cook from the kitchen, hearing him.
"Cookie!" Pipit bolted toward the voice and hastily set Link up on a table. "I need potions, now!"
"Oh dear, oh dear, hun, I don't make the potions. Run on to Bertie and Luv's shop and tell them it's an emergency, I have a feeling our first aid cabinet doesn't stock for this."
Pipit yelled at a nearby knight to grab the potion makers. The knight bolted toward the Bazaar. Pipit felt Link's pulse again and yelled at the remaining diners, "Does anybody have medical training?"
By the time the knight got back with Bertie and Luv, Link was still in the kitchen, but rigged to an IV. "He's lost a lot of blood," a knight medic told Pipit, "but, amazingly, he's held on. He's also broken several ribs and punctured a lung, but he should recover."
Pipit sighed with relief as Luv and the knight medic added red and oxygen potion to the IV mixture. Once Link's pulse was more normal and he was breathing easier, they moved him off the dining table and to his bed in the student's quarters. "Good thing you fetched him, honey," Cookie said, patting Pipit on the back.
"Thanks," the mustard-yellow knight said, watching Link's unconscious form. The red potion was fixing him up well. His side looked good already.
Pipit couldn't help wondering where these injuries came from. Was it something below the clouds? Pipit shivered. He'd never wanted to go below, and he certainly didn't now. But Link was a stubborn boy. Wherever he had gotten this injured, you would bet Link would be back there again until he finished the job. That's why he and Crimson got along so well. A stubborn bird for a stubborn boy. Pipit just hoped Crimson would bring him straight to the main island next time.
Author note: I wrote this in 2012. But, it has a plot, and isn't half bad, so I decided to revise and then post it. Thank for reading! Please review! I often leave a review on one of your things for a review on one of mine!
Also, I am currently finishing up my bachelor's in nursing, and even 6 years ago the nurse in me (before I even know I'd become one) was showing. Checking for neck injuries and giving red potion IV? Wow. That made me laugh. It's not realistic at all. But hey. It's medical. And hilarious. And this is fanfiction. So, I left it in the story. I hope it made you smile. Also it's nice to think our hero is getting modern trauma care, even in a medically medieval world.
Peace,
Ninja