Chapter 9
Apocalypse Wow
When Zelda arrived at the museum, there was nobody around.
Which was odd, all things considered; wasn't this supposedly the site of a theft only hours earlier? Shouldn't there be police here, or at least increased security guard activity? Surely somebody ought to be here to make sure the rest of the items on display in the museum didn't also mysteriously disappear. Yet as Zelda strode up the red brick staircase and approached the tall, shiny glass front doors, she couldn't help but notice that she was completely and utterly alone. Well, aside from Colin.
"I don't know if I like this, Zelda…" he muttered uncomfortably, casting nervous glances around him as she pressed her face up against the glass and peered curiously inside. "I mean… Shouldn't we have met somebody by now?"
"Yeah…" Zelda responded off-handedly, squinting through the darkness into the shadowy atrium. She could barely make out the form of the Great Fairy fountain, but aside from her half-naked concrete form, there was nothing to be seen in the building. No Midna, no evil presence, no nothing. Only shadows.
"I mean, it's definitely odd, right?" Colin continued, scratching his head, clearly still talking just for the sake of talking. He gazed at her imploringly, as if asking her to validate his concerns.
She merely grunted in response. Obviously, things were weird; that was why they were there in the first place. She tried to be patient with Colin though, knowing that he was operating under blind faith in her and without any knowledge of the supernatural secrets surrounding her and her boyfriend, Link. She had no idea what he must be thinking at that moment, but to Zelda, the lack of security at the museum was the least of her concerns. If anything, it was a boon; it meant less regular people would be getting in the way of whatever was going down tonight.
As for what was going down… She had no clue. Leave it to the goddess Nayru to telepathically warn her of danger and yet again not show her how to handle the situation. She'd never been particularly forthcoming in the past either and things had always somehow managed to turn out alright, but that didn't make dealing with it any easier. She sometimes wished she'd been gifted with a magical walkie-talkie, or better yet, that she could just shoot Nayru a text or Snapchat on her phone whenever she had an issue.
The image of her taking a selfie with Colin in front of the museum doors with confused expressions suddenly popped into her mind.
'Lol now wut? #soconfused, #wisdomplz, #Princessofgettinglost'
She shook her head violently; she needed to focus.
Well, if nobody was out here, that could only mean that she had to find some way inside…
She tested the handle – locked. Of course it was. It was worth a try, though. Now, what should she do…?
"Are… you trying to get in?" Colin asked, stepping closer.
Zelda resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she'd been unnecessarily short with Colin today, and it really wasn't any of his fault that she'd been in such a bad mood. Link standing her up, their fight, his sudden arrest, Nayru's less-than-helpful warning… Goddesses, but her life could go from normal to total nightmare faster than Malon went through boyfriends.
"Well, if Midna and the rest are anywhere, they'd be inside."
Shivering in the cold spring air, Zelda stepped back and examined the door, considering her options as she rubbed at her arms for heat; what had she been thinking, sneaking out with Colin and Anju and not bringing her sweater? The sleeves to her long maroon tunic cut off halfway down her forearm, but the material wasn't very thick… thankfully, she'd opted for her black slacks that day rather than leggings, but her clothing was far from warm. The only thing that maybe helped was the one black, fingerless glove she wore on her right hand, only the 'fingerless' bit took away from it considerably.
She glared at Colin out of the corner of her eye. Why was it that guys never seemed to react to the cold unless there was ice on the ground? All he had on were faded jeans and a white, three-buttoned long sleeve shirt. What, was it something in the male genetic makeup that made them naturally cold resistant? That just seemed unfair. Biology was sexist. She needed to have a word with Farore one of these days.
"Well," Colin stated simply, "if we need to get in…"
He walked back towards the stairs and crouched down next to the decorative planters, rummaging through the short hedges for a few moments before emerging with a large rock held in his fist.
"Um, Colin, what are you…?"
In answer, he strode towards the door and hefted the rock as though he were going to pitch a baseball.
Shock and dread filled Zelda's gut, and her inner goody-two-shoes began squawking in indignation. He was going to break the window?! But… but… That was vandalism! It was against the law! Colin would never…! But then, their friends were in trouble, and desperate times called for desperate measures… But still, breaking the window?!
Before she could make up her mind over whether this was an acceptable course of action, a high, clear voice rang out from off to the side.
"Hey!"
Colin jumped and dropped the rock, looking panicked and guilty.
Zelda felt her heart leap into her throat, but when she whirled to face the unexpected witness to the would-be beginnings to Colin's life of crime, she found herself struck speechless.
There, calmly plodding towards them, was the unmistakable figure of a child.
The kid halted a few paces away from Zelda and Colin and examined them silently. The boy, or at least that's what she assumed he was, had on the most bizarre set of mismatched clothing Zelda had ever seen.
Two different kinds of boots adorned his feet; one thick, rubbery yellow rain boot, the other of a mottled green hiking variety, though without laces. His knobby knees were bare, the only covering for his legs being a too-small pair of super-short 80's workout shorts. By far the most hideous addition was his shirt; an overly large long-sleeved smock that was filthy and stained, the sleeves of which looked like they were originally white and extended beyond his fingertips, but the body sported an odd purple design, almost as if he were wearing a vomit-inducing paisley vest.
No part of his outfit could match the mask he was wearing in terms of oddness, however. The boy had concealed his face behind a bright yellow fox mask, complete with tall, pointed ears. His eyes were practically invisible in the darkness behind the slits in the mask that he saw through, but Zelda could still see long, purple hair pulled back behind his ears. It reminded her of Kafei, and she felt her heart reach out to the poor boy; he was obviously homeless, out here all alone in the cold in those ill-fitting, filthy clothes…
She didn't bother to ask why there was a homeless child loitering around the outside of the museum. Why were there homeless children anywhere? What mattered wasn't how he'd come to be there, but what she could do to help him.
Zelda knelt down and adopted her warmest, most approachable tone.
"Hey there!" she called out with her brightest smile. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
The boy cocked his head to the side as though he didn't understand.
"What are you two doing?" he asked.
Zelda and Colin exchanged looks. "Just… looking for some friends of ours. You didn't happen to see anybody around here tonight, did you?"
For a moment, Zelda thought she'd said the wrong thing. It was impossible to read his face behind that mask, but he was silent for a moment, considering the two teens before him.
Just when she thought she was going to have to either repeat herself or change the subject, he spoke.
"Are you trying to get into the museum?"
"Yes," said Colin quickly, stepping closer. Not wanting to scare the boy off, Zelda shot him a warning look but he waved her down. "Why? Do you know a way in?"
The boy shook his head and mumbled something to himself that Zelda couldn't make out. "Yeah, I know a way in. Follow me."
Without waiting to see if they'd obey, the boy turned and dashed back the way he came.
Zelda blinked in surprise, then after cocking a confused eyebrow at Colin to which he merely shrugged, she hastily clambered to her feet and sprinted off after him, Colin right behind her.
Perhaps she ought to have been suspicious as to how, at the exact moment they arrived outside the museum and were searching for an entrance, a potential path appears before them in the guise of a mysterious stranger. However, oddities like this were the norm for Zelda. It seemed totally likely that this little boy was telling the truth; after all, Nayru wouldn't have ordered her here if her task was impossible. At least, that was what she was telling herself.
The boy followed the path that ran along the outer wall of the museum, his mismatched shoes pitter-pattering on the shadowed brick sidewalk. With every other step, his rubber shoe squelched, as though shouting at them to hurry.
The Museum of National History was a truly massive building, even dwarfing the official state buildings around it. However, Castleton, like most large cities, was lacking in adequate space for real estate. The buildings around were uncomfortably close to each other, with claustrophobic alleyways in between. Normally, Zelda would have avoided such places like the filthy, disease-ridden rat warrens she knew them to be. Unfortunately for her, it was just such an alleyway between the museum and some tall building she thought was a law firm that the boy led them to.
She hesitated at the mouth of the alley. Everything she'd ever seen in horror movies and television crime dramas told her that teenage girls did not belong in dark alleys in the middle of the night, particularly when visiting the big city. Just peeking inside had her shuddering; mysterious puddles, piles of trash, graffiti… There was an eighty-six percent chance of her being raped and murdered if she entered this alley… At least, if the TV was anything to go by.
Still… Her friends were in danger, and the world needed her help. Furthermore, that little boy had run in without any problems. If he could do it, why couldn't she?
Colin, who'd leaned up against the wall beside her, panting, muttered softly, "Zelda, I don't think it's such a good idea to-"
Swallowing back her nerves, she shot back, "We don't have a choice, Colin."
Ignoring his reluctant groan, she ran into the darkness, grateful to hear his footsteps splashing in the puddles just behind her.
Thankfully, she didn't have to run far. A couple dozen feet in she found the boy, waiting patiently in front of a large, slimy dumpster.
"Hey, what's the deal?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and scowling down at him. He better not have been messing with them; she ran into an alleyway for this kid! An alleyway! "I thought you had a way in!"
"I do, I do!" the boy said hastily, making placating gestures with his hands. "My friend can get you in. He lives here, behind the dumpster."
"He lives where?" Colin asked, sounding horrified.
"Behind the dumpster," the boy repeated, oblivious to Colin's distress. "I just can't move it by myself; I'm not strong enough. So…"
"Aw man, are you kidding me?" Colin shot Zelda an imploring look, but she shook her head despondently. Colin sighed.
"Alright kid, let's do this."
Together, the three of them braced their hands against the greasy, rusted side of the dumpster and began pushing with all their might. Flies and the stench of rotting refuse assaulted her, nearly making Zelda gag. Honestly, how did dumpsters like this get to be so disgusting? It was between a museum and a lawyer's office; what could either of those institutions put inside that could possibly be so gross?
The wheels on the bottom of the dumpster were rusty and squealed in protest, but thankfully the hulking garbage receptacle gave way without too much strain. After a few moments of grunting and heaving, they managed to slide it back a few feet, revealing a few oily sheets of cardboard stacked up against the wall.
"What now, kid?" Colin grunted, annoyed, as he gingerly wiped his hands off on the wall.
"Don't worry, we're there. Look!" the boy replied, stepping forward and sliding the cardboard to the side, revealing a large hole in the side of the museum, into which the boy hastily stepped.
"Come on! This way!"
Zelda and Colin exchanged looks again.
"Uh-uh. No way. Zelda, this is crazy. This is probably where drug deals and gang initiation pranks go down. We go in there, and if the only thing we get is tetanus, it'll be a miracle."
"Colin."
They stared at each other in silence, arguing through straight eye contact for a moment before Zelda's indomitable will won out. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Colin sighed and gestured towards the hole in the wall.
"Fine, fine… Ladies first."
Stooping low, Zelda ducked into the crevice in the wall and began her bizarre, perilous journey. In reality, it can't have been more than a few feet, but as narrow, dark, and mysteriously dripping as the passageway was, those few feet lasted for an eternity.
Finally, after ducking a support beam and passing through a curtain made out of a tattered bed sheet, the space opened up and Zelda found herself stumbling into the strangest living room she'd ever been in.
A dusty light bulb hung from a cord that extended somewhere into the darkness above them, casting a pallid light over the scene. Drapes and sheets hung from rusted nails and broken beams to create a sort of impoverished gypsy feel; it gave the impression they were in a tent rather than a hole in the wall. Plastic buckets and broken furniture had apparently been dragged into the cramped living space in an attempt to make it feel cozier. A mildewed couch sat collapsed against the outer wall, and a handful of broken or legless stools and chairs formed a ring around a scratched table top (just the table top), nestled onto a bad sixties shag carpet in the middle of the floor.
The stench of alcohol, body odor, and urine assaulted her nose instantly, making her eyes water. Oh, goddesses… Where on earth had she found herself now?
One of the curtains across from her parted, and in shuffled the mask-wearing boy, followed by the last person Zelda had ever expected to see again.
"Well hello, friends!" cried the bespandexed homeless man she'd met that morning, clapping his hands together in delight. "Tingle is so very happy to see you! Welcome to Tingle's home!"
"Oh Din…" Colin moaned behind her.
"Come, come, you must sit!" Tingle urged emphatically, motioning towards the broken stools as he smoothed down his bangs that poked out of his neon green headpiece. "The Keaton boy has told me all about you. You all are trying to enter the museum, yes?"
"Er… yes, Mr. Tingle, we…" Zelda tried, but couldn't get the words out of her mouth. The situation was just too bizarre for her to wrap her head around. Tingle lived here? Tingle, the crazy homeless man who'd glomped her boyfriend that morning and had been dragged away by the police? How on earth had he gotten away?
And… what about those children he'd been chasing? The ones who were reported missing?
Her eyes darted to the child in the mask who was standing in the corner and then back to Tingle. Something like dread crept into her heart. If he was keeping company with this child, then…?
"Oh, Tingle is so delighted to have guests. It is not very often that others come to visit Tingle. No, no, not very often at all. But you must stay and eat with Tingle! Tingle will make you dinner!"
"O-oh, no! Uh, that's not necessary, Tingle, we've, uh… We just ate, actually." Zelda fumbled quickly, her face turning grey at the thought of eating whatever slop was concocted by this overgrown man-child. "Actually, Tingle, I have a question for you…"
"For me?" Tingle replied, looking shocked. His voice was unnaturally high for a man his age, particularly for one with such a large gut threatening to burst from his spandex suit and tatty red swim trunks. It might have even been comical, were she not terrified for her life.
"Yes. Do you… know anything about those little kids you met this morning? The ones who went missing earlier tonight?"
Colin tensed behind her, and this time Zelda agreed with his nervousness; confronting a suspected kidnapper of his crimes in his house wasn't the brightest of ideas she'd come up with, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think it over properly. The stench of this hovel was fuddling her mind.
"Children?" Tingle asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
Zelda licked her lips nervously, ready to bolt. "Uh… You know, the, uh… The fairies?"
She'd expected her words to have an effect on him. She'd expected anger, or fear, or denial, or attack. Or at the very least, for him to grow ecstatic like he had that morning and begin raving again.
She hadn't expected his mouth to gape open in shock, nor the words that came out of his mouth.
"What?! Princess says the fairies went missing?"
Zelda felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.
"What… What did you call me?"
There was a twinge on the back of her right hand, but she stopped herself from hiding it behind her back. The boy in the mask was staring at her, silent.
"But… But… Tingle does not know! Tingle would never hurt fairies! Tingle loves fairies! Princess does not know this, but Tingle is a fairy too! Tingle merely wanted to help the fairies! They were in danger!"
Zelda's mind was reeling. This man was insane. Clearly, obviously, no doubt in her mind or in anybody's who'd ever seen him. And yet… he called her Princess. Could he…? Was it possible…?
"Listen, Tingle," Colin said curtly, placing a comforting hand on Zelda's shoulder. "We know you just wanted to help the… fairies… But now, we need some help too. Can you get us into the museum?"
Colin hadn't noticed the 'Princess' line. He probably thought it was more madness on Tingle's part. Was it? It seemed… unlikely. Still, Colin seemed ready to get going, and Zelda was only too ready to oblige.
"Of course!" Tingle cried, going from depressed to ecstatic in an instant. "Tingle uses this secret passage to study about fairies! New friends can use it too! Just follow the tunnel; it leads straight to the museum's storage room. But you must be careful not to get caught!"
"Perfect. Thanks, Tingle," Colin said quickly, flashing the bizarre man a tight smile and giving Zelda a short push.
"Come on, let's get out of here…" he muttered hastily in her ear.
"Wait! Before you go, Tingle has a present for you!"
"Oh, no. Tingle, you've done enough, really-"
Colin's protests were cut short as Tingle, having poked his head around the curtain with his butt sticking up into the air to everyone's general disgust, emerged from his backroom clutching something in his hands.
"For you! Tingle gives you his most prized possession. But be careful; there is darkness ahead," he intoned gravely, pressing the object into Zelda's hands.
It was a bottle. A filthy, brown alcohol bottle, topped with a cork. At first she thought it was empty, but after closer inspection, she could tell something was inside. Revulsion washed over her; whatever could be in there, she knew she had no desire to find out. Still, flat out refusing the gift right in front of a crazy person probably wasn't very conducive to her personal safety. Grimacing, she gingerly placed the bottle in her bag and thanked the man, feeling the sudden need to wash her hands and light her purse on fire.
"Great. Thanks. We'll be going now," Colin pressed, shoving Zelda forward.
With one last goodbye from the good-natured if smelly vagabond, the duo brushed back the sheet and entered a tunnel, the masked boy following close behind.
The tunnel was a bit longer than the one that led from the dumpster but thankfully required less bending over. Before she knew it, the three companions were stumbling out into a darkly lit storage room from behind a loose wall panel.
"Oh gods," Colin grumbled, sniffing at his sleeve and wrinkling his nose. "We reek."
"At least we're in now," Zelda replied. "Maybe we should split up and…"
She trailed off. A voice could be heard echoing from the other end of the storage room. It was a man's voice, high and sharp. A second voice answered, even higher and distinctly childish.
"Who is that?" Colin mouthed. "Security guards?"
"I don't know!" Zelda answered, irritated. What, was she supposed to know everything? "Let's go check it out!"
Motioning to the masked boy to keep low, Zelda quietly picked her way closer to the sound of the two voices, ducking behind stacks of crates and dollies, careful not to trip over anything in the darkness.
The storage room was large, probably larger than the gymnasium back at Ordon High. Most of it was occupied by rows of large shelves stocked to the brim with random odds and ends. As they crept through the corridors of cabinets, Zelda noticed a light coming from the far end of the room, presumably where the two voices were meeting.
Ducking low behind a statue of a mermaid (why on earth was there a mermaid statue in the museum?!), Zelda poked her head around to try and catch a glimpse of the two figures talking in the corner.
When she did, she felt her eyebrows quirk upwards in disbelief.
And she thought Tingle dressed weird…
The first person was a taller man wearing white spandex with diamond cutouts and a large red cape. He was lounging against a crate, pale white hair obscuring half of his face as he let out a rich, effeminate laugh.
The second was a child, much like the one crouched down beside her. He had on a black shirt and shorts, but that wasn't the odd thing; he was also wearing a mask. She recognized this one from the exhibit on Termina in the museum. It was Majora's Mask… But how on earth had a child gotten a hold of it? And why was he wearing it?
"…will soon come to pass," the effeminate man was saying idly, examining his nails. "I can feel him approaching; the moment will be upon us soon. All we have to do until then is entertain our little guests long enough until they-"
He stiffened, straightening up, and licked his lips.
"…Well, well, well, so we've finally arrived, have we?"
Dread filled Zelda's chest, but before she could shout out for her accomplices to run, it was too late.
The man waved his hand and the mermaid statue flew across the room, landing with a crash on the floor and shattering into pieces. Colin cried out in shock, scrambling away from the scene with wild eyes, but the boy with the mask stood firm, saying nothing but looking ready for a fight.
Zelda locked eyes with the white-haired man and felt something uneasy stir in her chest, something not too different from recognition.
Did she… know this person?
The man flashed a cruel smile, a rich chuckle echoing from his throat.
"Good evening, Your Grace. One down, two to go. I leave them in your capable hands, Majora."
The masked boy turned his face on them, and the room went dark. The last thing she heard before fading into the blackness was cackling laughter.
When Aryll had first awoken alone in the foggy woods, she'd have given anything to have somebody there alongside her. The terrifying isolation in the dark had only encouraged the memories she'd been fighting for so long to repress, and somewhere in the bottom of her heart, she'd been crying out for somebody, anybody, to come and save her.
Now that it had happened, however, she found herself mutinously wishing she were alone again.
Don't misunderstand; she was grateful that someone had come along and rescued her from those strange goblin things that had had her cornered. She just wished it wasn't Ralph who'd done the rescuing.
He, however, had been ecstatic to find her in desperate need of his 'heroic endeavors', and had yet to let up about it. Honestly, of all the people in the entire world who could have been her savior, he was the last person she'd wanted to see entering that clearing. Well, second to last.
A breeze passed through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead and chilling her. Reflexively, she drew her arms close and tried to stop herself from shivering, angling the lantern awkwardly so as not to burn her arm. Well, that's what she gets for wearing that outfit… It still wasn't quite Spring yet, and being further north only meant it was even colder at night than back in Ordon. She had on a sky-blue tee with a sunflower pattern, and some fitted Bermuda jean shorts that looked like they'd been rolled up just above her knee, and of course her lime-green track shoes (Malon had said they were a crime against fashion, but they were a present from Link that she refused to part with). She'd made the mistake of not taking her hoodie with her when they left the hotel, and now she was paying the price. Stupid cold, stupid wind, stupid forest…
She felt something warm and soft being draped around her shoulders.
"It wouldn't do for my lady to catch a cold-" Ralph began in what she was sure he thought was a seductive murmur before her elbow to the diaphragm cut him off with an injured wheeze.
"Cut it out, Ralph," Aryll bit out menacingly, shrugging off his odd blue jacket and hurling it at his face.
"I… but… I was simply trying to-!"
"Oh, I know full well what you were trying, bucko," she sneered, shooting him a venomous glare and adjusting her grip on the old brass telescope she held clutched in her fist. She'd picked it up off the ground after Ralph had rescued her from the goblin things earlier; it wasn't much in the ways of a weapon, but she could at least get a couple good whacks out of it. That, or she could just chuck the lantern at any other nightmare creature that decided to come after her. Then again, she'd probably lose their only source of light if she did… She supposed she'd just have to rely on Ralph to protect her.
Goddesses, but something about that thought caused bile to rise in her throat. Rely on Ralph?! She'd rather rely on Groose! Ralph was a brainless, arrogant, chauvinistic flirt with delusions of grandeur. Multiple times she'd been forced to ask herself if he was on some sort of medication; why else would he act the way he did? Or talk the way he talked? He made the bizarre and outlandish look normal by comparison, and by some kooky twist of fate, he'd decided he'd fallen madly in love with her.
She wondered sometimes if his sudden infatuation had something to do with the shooting. She knew that Ralph had perpetuated his long-standing, one-sided rivalry with her brother Link for years now, though Link had never seemed to give him the time of day. It must have grated on him during the shooting how Link had been the one to save the day despite Ralph always claiming that he was the hero. Furthermore, she'd heard how he'd been all but shown up by Colin, her ex-boyfriend, who'd both saved his life (twice) and daringly rescued the Chief of Police (his father) after Ralph had failed to do so.
A hot and uncomfortable feeling bubbled up in her chest at the thought of Colin Smith, but she shoved it back down.
The biggest thing Link and Colin had in common was her. There was a dark, bitter part of herself that was beginning to suspect that most of Ralph's infatuation with her stemmed from that fact, as if she was some sort of trophy he could wrestle away from the two of them to somehow declare superiority.
If that's how he saw this playing out, he had another thing coming.
However, that didn't erase the fact that at the moment she was all but defenseless, and of the two of them, only Ralph had a weapon.
He'd come marching into the clearing after rescuing her, all strut and flutter, flicking back his stupid hair and commenting on how fortuitous it was that he'd been in the area and how the fates must have something glorious planned for their futures. She'd sort of been in shock, not thinking straight, and had made the mistake of thanking him. Had she known how much simple words of gratitude were going to inflate that already overly-large head of his, she'd have stayed quiet.
He'd shown her the tool he'd used to save her, though, and that at least was interesting. He'd apparently woken up in a clearing much like she had and heard the same voice that delivered the same axiom. However, where she had been given a lantern, he'd merely awoken with the tool he now carried sitting beside him.
It looked like a spring-loaded spike, to be honest – a curved metal handle attached to a metal cylinder with a spike not much different than a large arrowhead on the top. When he pressed a button on the inside near the handle, it released a mechanism inside that caused the spring-loaded device to fire. The spike shot forward, with a chain attached to it, and after traveling so many feet retracted automatically. At first they'd thought it was some sort of primitive gun, but had discovered that it was useful for retrieving distant objects, and could even be used to pull oneself up to distant places, assuming you could find purchase for the spike. It was the sort of tool Batman would use, if a little archaic. Neither of them knew why he'd woken up next to it.
But that had pretty much summed up their midnight trek through the woods up until now. Ralph making comments about his bravery and peerless heroics, occasionally trying to slip an arm around her to 'keep her warm', and Aryll clenching her jaw and trying not to maul him.
As if she wasn't operating under enough stress as it was. All she wanted was to find the rest of their friends and get out of these woods, creepy-voice boy's 'test' or no.
If there was any benefit to Ralph's presence, however, it was that Aryll's consistent, all-consuming irritation was strong enough to distract her from the terror that had threatened to tear her apart when she'd realized she was alone in the woods after dark. It was hardly a comforting feeling, but anything was better than hysteria.
Which is why, when they heard the tell-tale patter of footsteps close by, Aryll had to muster up every ounce of self-control to prevent herself from screaming. Heart thundering in her chest, she seized Ralph by the sleeve and yanked him into a dense thicket, crouching low to the ground and shuttering the lantern, trusting the shadows to hide them.
"Oh-ho!" Ralph muttered salaciously, waggling his eyebrows at Aryll. "So this is how you want to play it, eh? I knew you were a fox, Aryll, but I never expected-"
Aryll slapped her hand over Ralph's mouth with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary.
"Ralph. Shut up. Now," she hissed, shooting him the death glare she'd picked up from Midna before peering out into the darkness around them. "Something's coming…"
There was complete silence for a moment, and all Aryll could hear was the frantic pounding of her heart as the darkness around her seemed to intensify. She was terrified; for better or worse, she was trapped in the dark once again with no way of knowing how she was supposed to survive. At least she wasn't alone anymore… but she didn't want Ralph. She wanted Link. She needed Link. Now that Grandpa was gone, he was her protector. Only now that he was in jail… Who was going to keep her safe?
As though in answer to her thoughts, the fog parted in the clearing on the opposite side of the thicket, allowing the moon and stars to illuminate their surroundings for a brief moment.
Aryll scooted closer to the branches that hid them, carefully pushing them aside in the hopes that a brief glimpse of a familiar constellation might calm her nerves with the memories of her Grandfather. What she saw instead turned her blood to ice.
There, in the clearing, shambling around in aimless circles, were a dozen or so of the most terrifying things she'd ever seen. The pygmy goblins that had attacked her before had done little to prepare her for what she was seeing now.
They were skeletons. Adult sized with bleach-white bones and glowing red eyes, they stalked in a listless manner as though unaware of their surroundings. They wore no clothing and carried no weapons; just human skeletons, somehow reanimated, stalking the night.
Ever since bumping into the odd monster creatures that had chased her through the woods, Aryll had been doing a bang-up job of repressing her fear. It was something she was terribly good at; was there some aspect of her life that was particularly troublesome? Easy solution: just don't think about it.
Parents and grandfather taken away from you at a young age? Don't think about it.
Boyfriend betrays your trust and aids in a school shooting that results in the deaths of dozens of your innocent peers in order to keep you safe? Don't think about it.
Monsters coming alive and chasing you through the woods? Don't think about it.
Saria had once told her that traumatic experiences you kept bottled inside had a nasty way of coming back when you least expected it, but Aryll had brushed her friend off, not wanting to acknowledge the pain she carried inside. It was only now, as she stared out into the moonlit clearing at her nightmare's army, terror once more threatening to consume her, that she realized what a fool she'd been.
She would never survive this night. She'd never make it back to her friends. She'd never be able to apologize to Saria and Malon for not being there for them after the shooting; for bundling herself up in her own ball of pain and fear and pretending like everything was ok. She should have opened herself up to her friends, learned to trust again by helping them and letting them help her. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so petrified. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so alone.
It was then, as she began her freefall into her own twisted inner world, that something caught her eye.
There, in the middle of the clearing, amidst what looked like a pile of sticks and rocks, sat a pile of discarded weapons.
The thought of 'why' a couple rusted swords and axes would be lying in a pile in the middle of the skeleton-infested clearing didn't cross her mind; why was any of this happening? Why had Ralph woken up beside the steam-punk version of James Bond's missing grapple hook? If she stopped to consider every bizarre thing that had happened that night, she'd still be standing in that first clearing she'd woken up in. And she'd probably be dead.
Her eyes focused on one of the weapons and she felt her gut lurch; she recognized that one from the museum that morning. It was that massive skull-shaped hammer that her friends had teased her about when she'd told them it was adorable. Seeing it here, in the middle of her nightmare, gave her an idea… A horrible, terrible, stupid idea…
Ralph had scooted up next to her, but for once his bravado seemed to have failed him. He stared out into the darkness, wide green eyes unfocused and sweat beading up on his brow. Apparently, it was possible to shut the boy up; too bad she couldn't feel any joy at the moment.
Licking his lips hesitantly, he whispered, "Ah… Ok, Aryll, I see we have… visitors… Let us adjourn to the opposite side of this bramble and… quietly… begin making our way around these… things."
Aryll ignored him. Her head was racing almost as fast as her heart as she stared at the hammer out in the distance. This was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. But she was tired of being afraid, tired of feeling helpless, and most of all… She was angry. Angry at herself, angry at her own weakness, angry at the world for being so unfair, and she needed some way to fight back.
She glanced up at the stars and felt her grandpa's words washing over her. Get your ninny-muggin head out of the clouds and get to work!
She glanced down at her lime green running shoes Link had given her. The nightmare at hand may have her immediate attention, but her brother still needed her help. And it's not like she was useless; she'd discovered that night all the time and attention she'd devoted to track had its benefits. She was fast. Maybe the fastest in the school. If she hurried, she could do this.
Right?
"Now, Aryll, ladies first. I'll follow behind and cover you-"
"No."
Ralph blinked, staring at her. "Excuse me?"
"No, Ralph. We're not running away. Not this time."
"Um…?" he offered, stumped. At any other time, Aryll would have been thrilled to know that the ginger teen's eloquence was not inexhaustible. "Aryll, I do not think you understand what I'm trying to say here."
"No, I gotcha," she replied, taking a few deep breaths to calm her heart and clear her head, setting the lantern and telescope down on the ground beside her; she'd need free hands. "You want us to sneak around them and hope they don't catch us and tear us apart. I have a better idea."
"You… You do?" Ralph replied, casting her a hopeful look.
"Yup. I run in there, grab us some weapons, and then run back." After all, how fast could a skeleton move anyway? They didn't have Aryll's well-toned calves. Judging by the way they were shuffling about, they couldn't hope to match her speed. She had this race in the bag.
Ralph, however, didn't seem as confident.
"Are you mad?!" he hissed, crossing his arms and shooting her a stern look as she positioned herself as though waiting for the hundred-meter dash. "Running out into the middle of… of… that?! This is no place for a woman! You stay here, and I'll go-"
"Too late!" Aryll cried, cutting Ralph off and emerging from the thicket at a dead sprint.
The skeletons all turned to look at her simultaneously, red eyes zeroing in like laser sights, and as one they all began shuffling after her. Aryll's heart was galloping in her chest, but over the panic and terror emerged a new emotion: elation. Running through the darkness on this solo suicide mission brought about a sudden surge of freedom, clearly aided by adrenaline, the kind she hadn't experienced in a long, long time.
The moonlight, miraculously, stayed strong, as though her grandfather was urging her on, and she was able to see well enough to dodge any fallen branches or divots in the ground that might have otherwise tripped her up. The skeletons moved faster than she'd anticipated, but not nearly as fast as her. She blew through them as if they were nothing, quickly approaching her destination, and something tore itself from her chest; a wild, crazed, euphoric giggle.
She was alive. She was free. And this darkness wasn't going to get the best of her. Not this time.
Something caught her attention as she neared the pile. What she'd previously thought were sticks and rocks she now realized were bleached white, not unlike the monsters who were chasing her, and mixed in with the weapons, of which she could see there were four, were a few mismatched bits of rusted armor.
White sticks… rusted armor…
Five steps from the pile, it happened. There was a gust of air and the pile began to rustle. Aryll tried to stop, but at the speed she was running her attempted skid resulted in her tumbling to the ground in front of the pile. She tried to scramble to her feet, but not before it happened; with a dull clatter, the sticks and weapons all swirled into the air, aligning themselves almost robotically into the form of a monstrous, hulking, four-armed skeletal behemoth who bore down on her with all the terror of a starved grizzly.
Aryll felt her heart skip a beat. They weren't sticks or rocks… They were bones. Bits of armor, a dented helmet, and shin greaves adorned the skeleton. In each of its four arms it bore a weapon: a sword, an ax, a scimitar, and a hammer. The same hammer she'd seen in the museum. In fact, she thought she'd seen all of these weapons in various parts of the museum. She didn't have time to dwell on what that meant, however; the skeleton let out a guttural roar and hefted the ax, ready to cleave her in two.
Aryll didn't think she'd ever moved so quickly in her life. She shot to her feet like a bullet and all but flew across the ground, a silent scream tearing through her head as she gasped for breath, fleeing for her life.
She intended to head back towards Ralph in the thicket, only to find all the other skeletons she'd been avoiding had closed in on her, blocking her exit. She scrambled to the right where there were fewer obstacles, but she could hear the heavy, clattering footfalls of the behemoth charging behind her, grunting like a boar, and she willed herself to move faster.
One of the skeletons broke off from the pack, showing a remarkable and unfortunate amount of foresight, aiming to head her off. Aryll panicked, not sure what to do, when a sudden glint of silver came flashing out of the darkness. Ralph's strange pointy weapon slammed into the creature's skull, ripping its head off of its body. A sudden burst of gratitude surged through her. Ralph was helping! Farore, but she could kiss him! …Well, maybe not. But another 'thank you' could be on its way.
The now beheaded skeleton stumbled but continued shuffling forward, as though losing its head was only a minor inconvenience. Aryll felt vomit rise up in her throat. Ralph's help wasn't going to do much here after all. She was alone.
The skeleton moved as though to slash at her but she narrowly dodged it, side-stepping the undead warrior and veering off towards the edge of the clearing, hoping she could lose them in the woods. Unfortunately, with her attention on her pursuers, her toe caught on a root and she stumbled. She managed to keep her footing, at least until the massive skeleton behind her slammed into her and sent her sprawling to the floor.
Palms and knees now scrapped and blooded, Aryll did her best to push herself back to her feet and keep running, but she was disoriented. To her left, the massive blade of an ax embedded itself in the dark soil inches from her arm. She screamed and tried to escape to the right, only to find her path blocked by the curved scimitar.
A low, guttural chuckle emanated from behind her, and her limbs turned to jelly.
Slowly, Aryll turned around and found herself cowering on the ground before the massive, four-armed skeleton and his sea of comrades. The eerie light in his eyes and sardonic smile on his skinless face seemed intensified under the moonlight. The fog was swirling in again, obscuring everything around her, and she felt a whimper escape her throat.
The skeletal warrior lifted the sword high over its head, and the others around it began chattering excitedly.
A vacant thought skittered across Aryll's mind. Well then. Death by skeleton it was. At least she could say she tried, that she hadn't spent her last moments cowering in the darkness. Grandpa would be proud. She missed him. And she'd finally be able to see her parents again…
A flash of silver broke through the darkness, colliding with one of the creature's arms. There was a creak as the chain tugged, fighting against the skeleton's supernatural strength, until with a snap the hook came loose, tearing with it a chunk of the monster's humerus. The rest of the arm fell to the floor, including the weapon it had been holding, the hammer.
Partial dismemberment must be fairly alarming for just about anybody, even for skeletons with an excess of limbs. Momentarily distracted, the now three-armed skeleton warrior turned its head and glared out into the darkness where she knew Ralph was hiding, his angry bellow rich in defiance and the promise of swift retribution. By the time he turned his attention back to Aryll, it was too late.
Seeing the hammer on the ground, Aryll darted forward, grasped it by its long bamboo handle and gave it a fitful tug, one foot on the monster's arm, the other kneeling below her to support her weight. With a snap, the fingers broke and the hammer was in her hands.
Despite its size, it was deceptively light. When the monster's eyes fell on her, she almost thought she saw surprise in its face, if skeletons could be said to display emotions. He quickly raised his sword to skewer her, but Aryll was faster.
Summoning months of softball practice, Aryll closed her eyes and swung the hammer like a bat, pouring every ounce of fear and anger into her swing.
The handle bent slightly as she swung, displaying unexpected flexibility, and for a moment she worried that she lacked sufficient strength to do any real damage. Her worries evaporated the moment the skull-pattern hammer head connected with the skeleton's torso. In spite of the awkwardness of the swing, the strange lightness of the hammer, and her less-than-impressive upper body strength, the once-proud skeletal warrior before her exploded like a dusty piñata, sending bits of rib and spinal vertebrae spinning throughout the clearing, and what was left of the monster collapsed in a heap before her.
The clearing was silent. Aryll stared at the hammer in shock. The skeletons stared at Aryll. Somewhere in the darkness, Ralph stared at them all. Nobody made a sound.
Slowly, Aryll lifted her gaze from off the weapon and made eye contact with one of the skeletons. A crooked grin split across her face.
As one, the skeletons turned and started hastily scrambling away.
Later on, she would reflect that nothing is quite as cathartic as wanton destruction. It was as if with every blow of her mighty hammer, a little bit of her repressed tension and fear leaked out of her. Something surged within her, a strange sort of power, and part of her just knew that if Sheik had been present he'd offer to officially change her name to Xena, Warrior Princess. She swung the hammer to the left, flexible handle bending until with a WHAM!, three skeletons were sent flying in pieces across the clearing. She quickly turned and planted her feet, hefting the hammer high over her head and driving it down atop the next skeleton, leaving only a pile of dust on the floor where the creature had once stood.
The hammer seemed to strike with a force completely disproportional to the strength she used to swing it. Normally such a thing would be impossible, and yet… She was fighting off a horde of the undead all on her own. Could the hammer be magic? Was magic real? Was that the explanation for these monsters?
…Did it really matter?
Din, but she felt good! She felt alive! She felt… vindicated! A fire had ignited in her gut, and she lashed out at everything around her, obliterating her fear with white-hot hatred and a hammer that packed more brute force that Darunia and the rest of Ordon High's football team combined.
A handful of the skeletons managed to escape her wrath and vanish into the trees. She set off to follow them, only to stop when she noticed the decapitated head of the four-armed skeleton staring up at her balefully from a patch of grass near the edge of the clearing. She stalked up to it, hammer slung carelessly over her shoulder, flashed a sweet smile, and then drove the hammer into the ground.
The skull was no more.
The clearing was silent, the fog rolling in and once again obscuring the night sky. Panting slightly, Aryll rested the hammer on the ground, leaning against the pole at first until remembering that it bent. Her adrenaline was already fading away, and she felt exhaustion starting to wash over her. That was quite the workout she'd just had. She wondered what Coach Nabooru would say if she could see her now…
Something rustled in the bushes and she whirled around, bringing the hammer up to bare before recognizing Ralph's flaming red hair.
"Goddesses, you scared me!" she laughed breathily, bending over and resting her hands on her knees.
Uncharacteristically, Ralph said nothing. He approached her with an awkwardness that was nearly palpable, his footsteps shuffling in that same sort of nervous apprehension that a sixth grader has on his first day of middle school. Plus, there was something odd about the way he was looking at her. It took her a moment to realize what it was – uncertainty mixed with… awe?
Finally, after a few false starts and a couple gruff swallows, he managed to stammer, "W-well, uh… that was… very well handled. I could see you had the situation well under control there, so I… elected to let you finish up. I know how very worked up you can get when people interfere without your permission, and, um…"
Aryll grinned broadly, and Ralph drew back. "Right. Well, thanks for the help anyway, Ralph. I couldn't have done that if it weren't for you."
He blinked in surprise, then seemed to relax a little. "Right. Of course! 'Twas I, after all, who struck the beast's arm and allowed you your chance at victory! Never fear, Aryll! Your hero is ever at your side to assist you!"
Aryll rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't leave her face. At least Ralph was back to normal. Some things never changed…
"Now, if you'll just hand over that hammer, we'll be on our-"
"What?!" she blurted out, hugging the pole close to her torso protectively and casting Ralph a wild look. "No! This is my hammer! I won it fair and square! Look, it even has a cute little skull on it!"
"But Aryll," Ralph said bracingly, shooting her a compassionate look, "a war hammer is clearly the sort of weapon for a large, strong male. I am your protector! You needn't worry about the fighting, a delicate flower like yourself! Just leave it all to ol' Ralph, eh?"
Aryll grit her teeth and snarled, and Ralph quickly retracted the hand he'd extended, looking terrified that she might bite it.
"Of the two of us," she snapped, "I seem to be the one doing the most 'protecting'. If you want a real weapon, go find one of its swords, or maybe its ax. The hammer is mine. End of discussion."
Despite the fact that she'd spent the better part of the last year verbally putting Ralph in his place, he still looked surprised every time it happened. You'd think the poor guy would get a clue, but he still slunk away like a dejected puppy.
Shaking her head, Aryll headed back towards the hedge to reclaim her lantern and telescope. She gave the lantern to Ralph to help him look for the swords but kept the telescope. An idea had struck her when she'd picked it back up.
Leaving the hammer leaning against a tree, Aryll bit the narrow end of the telescope between her teeth and quickly began scaling. It had been years since she last climbed a tree, but thankfully she was in top physical shape. Being short didn't much help when trying to reach distant branches, but her light weight made her worry less about breaking a branch and falling to her death.
It was tough work, but in a couple of minutes she'd scaled to a decent height and had a better view of the forest now that the trees and fog were out of the way.
"What are you doing up there?" Ralph called from down below, and Aryll glanced down to see he had a rusted sword held in one hand and the lantern held up in the other. Presumably, his spikey-chainy thing was in one of his pockets.
"Looking!" she called back, hoisting herself onto the tallest branch with a grunt.
"But it's dark!" he called back. "What on earth do you hope to see in the middle of the night?!"
"I don't know!" she yelled back, pulling out the telescope and peering through it.
She was met with darkness.
"Stop messing around!" Ralph hollered, sounding impatient. "You're wasting time! What if more of those monsters return? You've left your blessed hammer down here with me!"
Aryll didn't answer. Slowly, she turned her telescope around as she examined the horizon. There had to be something… Someplace nearby… A cabin, or a ranger's station, or…
Her breath caught. There, in the distance, was the unmistakable flicker of torchlight.
There was a building.
When the wind funnel stopped and Groose's feet collided with the floor, he did something he wasn't proud of; he tripped and fell flat on his face.
Groose was no stranger to tripping; hey, he was a big guy with large feet! Clumsiness was part of the package! He was not, however, used to falling on his face in front of others. It had been a long time since he'd embarrassed himself in public, and he'd been working long and hard at his new school to change his image so nobody knew about the dork he used to be. Still, he knew better than anybody how one public embarrassment could utterly ruin a reputation; after all, he was the master of hurling freshmen into trashcans. Public embarrassment was his middle name. Er… his middle names.
Thankfully, he was only with Midna Twili, the midget-goth wonder, Queen of the Outcasts, Bizarro with a capital B. Her opinion didn't matter much. Still, as he hastily pushed himself back onto his feet and checked to make sure his pompadour was still coifed, he felt his cheeks begin to burn bright pink.
She'd better not mention this to anyone, or else he'd…!
The heavy thud of a door shutting echoed from behind him, and he remembered himself; moon crashing down, flying kid with the mask, apocalypse… He spun around, half expecting to see a wall of fire and the end of existence as he knew it, only to be met by a pair of familiar wooden doors and one very confused Midna blinking rapidly through the morning sunlight with a vacant look on her face.
Morning sunlight…?
Groose slowly turned on the spot, shoulders tense and eyes like saucers, taking in his surroundings.
There was no howling wind, no flying mask kid, no imminent death… The moon was still there, still larger than life, but it looked like it had retracted to a safe (well, safer) distance. A pleasant breeze swept by, rustling through his hair. Gentle morning sunlight illuminated the front doors of the clock tower. A puppy scampered past, yipping playfully over the din of the crowds gathered not too far away amidst rows of stalls, tents, and wagons set up by merchants peddling their wares.
This was familiar… He'd experienced this before… This was some hard-core déjà vu… This could only mean one thing…
"Oh, Goddesses…" Groose croaked, suddenly seizing Midna by her shoulders and jerking her in until her wide, startled ruby irises were inches from his face. "Midna, we… we… we're dead!"
Obviously, that was what was going on! He'd seen enough movies to know! This was limbo! They were stuck, forever repeating the same scenario over and over until the end of time! Doomed! Doomed! Oh, why hadn't he been nicer to the nerds while in life?! Why hadn't he pitied the weak, the lame, the athletically inept?! He should have done so much more… He could have been their role-model! They could have looked up to him as the pillar of manly perfection that he was and been inspired to be manly and cool too! Sure, it would have been practically impossible, but they would have at least have had hope! And then he'd be frolicking in the Sacred Realm instead of cursed to an eternity in the Twilight Zone with this Addam's Family reject…
Actually… now that he was looking closer, she wasn't half-bad in the looks department. A little pale and thin, sure, but she had some killer eyes…
Eyes which suddenly darkened, flooded with murderous intent. Never in his life had a glare affected him so strongly. He supposed he had been holding her uncomfortably close for way too long, but his opinion of her swiftly went from 'mildly sexy' to 'holy frick this chick is going to skin me and use my hide for leather'. He quickly dropped her and backed away a safe distance, chuckling nervously and rubbing at the back of his head.
Sure, she was tiny, and he could definitely take her in a fight, but… The Groosenator didn't hit women. His papa raised him right. He may be a rebel, but he had his own code.
…A code which he may have to break for self-defense purposes.
To his relief, Midna merely sighed and shook her head irritably, dismissing him without more than an irritated shrug. He felt his shoulders relax, but he maintained his distance. You could never be too careful, and Midna could explode at a moment's notice…
"Don't be an idiot," she muttered without looking at him, staring instead at the book in her hand. "We're not dead."
"Huh? But then... how d'you explain all this?" He spread his arms and looked around. It was definitely the same as earlier when they'd first come out of the clock tower. The crowds, the dog, the carpenters hammering away in the distance, the morning sunlight and the moon bearing down upon them… Something kooky was going on.
Midna bit her lip and shook her head, staring at the book as though it were a complicated play in the coach's playbook and the game depended on her. He knew the feeling; he'd been there before.
"What I don't get," Groose continued, crossing his arms and frowning thoughtfully, "is how we didn't get squished. I mean, why didn't that moon get us? And how'd it get way back up there in the sky?"
An uncomfortable look flashed across the smaller girl's face. "W-well… I think… I might know what happened."
He stared. "You do?!"
"Maybe," she snapped defensively, then took a deep breath. "Look, just… Let me explain, but don't interrupt 'til I'm finished and don't you dare laugh. You understand, meathead?!"
Groose blinked, taken aback at her sudden hostility. "Um… yeah?"
"Good. Ok. Um…" Carefully, as though she were handling a poisonous animal, she opened the book and flipped a couple pages until she got to one with the page folded over. Flattening it out, she turned the book to Groose and said, "Read it."
Groose snorted. "What? This is Ancient Hylian, I can't read…"
He trailed off, something like numb surprise taking over as his eyes scanned the page, taking in every symbol and understanding it perfectly. It had something to do with music… Music and… magic?
"You see this?" Midna asked, pointing to a picture of some sort of oval thing with holes all in it.
He grunted in response.
"It's the same as the one Mr. Happy gave to me. When I was reading this in the Mayor's office, I came across this page and recognized the instrument. It says it's called an ocarina… And look down here. See these music staffs? They're all songs… Uh, magic songs…" Groose quirked an eyebrow, and her cheeks flushed, but she hurried on. "When we got to the top of the clock tower and that kid was there, the book fell from my hand and opened to this page. I saw this song… the one that says 'Song of Time', and I played it… And now, here we are."
There was silence between them as Groose stared at Midna, and Midna stared at the book. The wind rustled by, fluttering the edges of the paper. Finally, he broke the silence.
"So… what you're sayin' is… We magically traveled back in time."
She hesitated, then nodded. "I… I think so, yeah."
Groose shut the book with a snap, making Midna jump. "Well, I guess that settles it," he said simply, holding the book out to her.
"Settles what?" she asked, surprised, gently taking the book and hugging it to her chest.
"That you've completely lost your mind. I mean, the whole 'we're in your dream' thing earlier I can forgive because we were both a little stressed, but I mean… Magic? Really? I knew you lived in a fantasy world, but this…!"
His hearty chuckle was cut painfully short by the sudden introduction of Midna's fist to his gut. He doubled over, wheezing, as Midna widened her stance and placed her fists on her hips, a challenging look in her eye.
"Listen, imbecile," she hissed venomously, eyes flickering like live coals, "I don't know exactly what's going on, how we got here, or why any of this is happening. I don't know who this masked kid is, or why we have to play his sick game and try and save this stupid village from the friggin' moon. And I don't know why we can read this book, or why that song did what it did, or how time travel is even possible. All I know is that it happened, and we're stuck in this nightmare together for now, so let's just focus on getting out of here without killing each other, alright?!"
Groose forced himself to straighten and shot her an irritated scowl, but her sardonic smirk hardly seemed repentant. Dang vampire chick… It would be his luck to be stuck with her. Well, she was right about one thing; they were in this together. May as well try and get along.
"Fine. You got a plan?" Groose grunted, trying not to grind his teeth.
Midna looked away shiftily. "Uh… Not exactly. But I figure, if this book told me how to reset time, maybe if I read it all the way through, I'll find out some way to stop the moon."
Groose snorted, throwing his hands up in the air.
"Hey!" she snapped. "I don't see you coming up with anything!"
"Your plan is to read a book all day! We need an action plan, Midna! It's game time! What happens when midnight strikes in about an hour and a half and we've got nothin'?!"
"Then I'll just play the stupid song again! As long as we have this, we'll have as many chances as we need to get it right! Just… Din, just let me try, ok?! It's not like we have anything better to do!"
Groose opened his mouth to shout something back but stopped himself. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right; they were at a loss, and maybe that book did have an answer… Well, as long as he wasn't the one who had to read it. He hated reading.
"Fine," he muttered petulantly, placing his hands on his hips and frowning. There was an uncomfortable pause in which the two stood in silence, looking in other directions, not sure what to say. Groose cleared his throat. "So, uh… Do we go back to the Mayor's place and sit on that couch, or…?"
"There's a nice little park we passed by in North Clock Town. I figure we can probably sit there without being bothered by anybody."
He'd never admit it, but he liked the sound of that better than that stuffy office. At least he'd be outside in the sun. Groose loved the outdoors. Maybe he could work out to pass the time?
"Sounds good!" he said in an attempt at jocularity, clapping his hands and rubbing them together with a forced smile on his face.
Midna stared at him for an awkward moment before shaking her head and walking away, slipping the dark green book into her purple shoulder bag. Groose let his smile fall and quickly set off after her, mildly relieved. Man, pretending to be nice was hard! Why did this girl have to be so weird all the time?! He didn't even know how to talk to her! Cheerleaders were more his speed; why couldn't he have been stuck with one of them?!
The trek to North Clock Town was short and uneventful. They passed by crowds of eager villagers, all with forced smiles plastered on their faces to hide the terror underneath. They'd noticed that the previous night (or was that a half an hour ago?) as they'd ran around the town begging the people to flee. He knew they were in a dire situation, but something about it just infuriated Groose. This was a village full of victims who'd simply rolled over and decided to accept their fate. Why wasn't anybody fighting? Why wasn't anybody trying to stop this? They'd all simply thrown in the towel and given up.
Sure, fighting against the moon must seem impossible, but… this was their lives they were talking about. Their homes. Their families. Their friends. Their children. When that much was on the line, you never gave up, never stopped fighting, even when it seemed impossible… especially when it seemed impossible.
Groose had always believed in fighting for what he wanted, no matter the odds. It was something his father had taught him, something he carried with him in his daily life. Something that took him to championships in rugby all throughout high school, something that had turned Ordon's team around when he'd arrived. Giving up wasn't in his nature, and as he stalked through the crowds behind Midna surrounded by the defeated and the hopeless, he felt something inside of him begin to burn.
He would fight for these people, not just because he had to in order to get out but because they wouldn't fight for themselves. He would show them, somehow, that you never surrendered.
…First he just needed to figure out how.
North Clock Town was easily the most peaceful part of the village. Luscious grass filled the park along the pathway that led to the city gate, dotted with the occasional dandelion or patch of clovers. For the most part, this section of the village was devoid of activity, as most of the commerce happened in the urban parts, and the only activity to be had here was one sleeping guard by the gate, a group of kids playing on an old-school playground, and a handful of carpenters working busily atop a nearby roof.
The sun was bright and cheerful overhead, already halfway towards its zenith as Groose and Midna entered the park and plopped down on a bench alongside the north road, not far from the kids on the playground.
Groose sprawled lazily, allowing his legs to stretch out before him as he soaked in the sun, feeling a little tired from all the running around he'd been doing (how long had it been since he'd last slept, anyway? He felt exhausted…) and enjoying this momentary respite. It was nice to get some peace and relaxation; a little rest did you a lot of good. Coach Darmani liked to say that. Midna, however, immediately pulled out the book and buried her nose in it, losing herself in the ancient text.
There was peace for a few moments as the two sat in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the laughter of children mixed with distant hammering and the occasional page turn. Soon, however, Groose began to get restless. He was never much of a sitter; he preferred to be doing something, and as much as he hated to admit it, he felt frustrated that there wasn't any way he could help Midna with this 'book reading' thing they were trying. He wanted to just get his hands dirty and start working on a solution to the problem, but until she finished that book they had no idea where to start… And reading a book wasn't exactly a two-person job.
Sighing, Groose adjusted his sitting position for the fourth time and let his eyes settle on the kids playing by the playground. He watched absently as the small cluster of boys gathered around an old tree, apparently distraught over something. For some reason, all of the kids were wearing white shirts and blue bandanas on their heads, except for one who had a red bandana. None looked to be older than eight.
As he watched, one boy suddenly leaped up, wrapped his skinny limbs around the tree trunk and began trying to shimmy his way up. He made it about two inches before falling to his butt on the grass to the loud laughter of his peers. As he stumbled away, rubbing his wounded bum and flushing in embarrassment, the next boy leaped up and tried to climb the tree, only to fall clumsily to the floor as well. Groose let his eyes travel up to the branches and noticed a bright yellow ball stuck near the top of the tree. Understanding flooded through him; they were trying to get their ball back.
Groose leaned forward and turned his attention to the carpenters. Most were up on the roof, but there were a couple on the ground near a pile of tools, wood, and metal scrap. They'd jerry-rigged some sort of pulley system and were hefting some of the larger beams up to the top to assist in the construction. An idea blossomed in his head, and Groose stood up.
"Where are you going?" Midna muttered, not turning away from her book.
"Just gotta stretch my legs a bit," he replied innocuously. She grunted, and he took that as a positive response, so he strode off towards the men building the roof.
One of the workers noticed him approaching and broke off to confront him, a guarded look in his eye.
"What is it, kid?" he asked, thin mustache quivering over a puffy lip, glimmering in the sunlight from the sweat. All he wore were a pair of worker's boots, filthy green shorts, and a blue vest that showed off his hairy, sweaty chest. His hair was fantastic; a wild brunette afro that would have put the Wonder Years to shame. Not quite as stylish as Groose's own pompadour, but he respected it nonetheless. "You lookin' for some work? We could use a hand."
"Nah, sorry guys. I was just wonderin' if you had some spare rope I could borrow. Just for a minute or two. And maybe a piece or two of that metal scrap?"
The man frowned, giving him a once-over. "…Why?"
Groose shrugged sheepishly, tucking his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. "Well… you see those kids over there? They got their ball stuck up in that tree, and I figured I'd maybe give them a hand."
The afro man turned and examined the kids across the park curiously for a moment before turning back to Groose. Finally, he nodded, approval flashing in his eyes. "Sure kid, why not? That's mighty nice of you to help out those children. What's your name?"
"Groose. Groose Loft."
The two shook hands.
"Well I'm Mack," he replied, flashing a toothy grin. He looked a bit like one of the men who worked for Groose's father. "Our boss is in a meeting with the mayor right now, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind having another hand on construction for the Carnival. If you change your mind, you let me know."
"Sure thing," Groose said politely, then strode over to the pile of discarded tools. He selected a piece of rope approximately fifteen feet in length, and then dug through the scrap metal until he found what looked like a bent three-pronged hook that might have previously been used in the pulley system. He took a hammer and banged out the dents, then fastened the rope to the hook and straightened up, heading back towards the tree.
The red-bandana boy was about to attempt the tree climb until he noticed Groose. The others parted swiftly, swarming away from the stranger and gathering behind the boy in the red who was obviously the oldest as well as their leader. He squared his shoulders and shot Groose a challenging look, but Groose ignored him, staring instead at the tree with a contemplative frown.
He had no idea how the kids had managed to get that ball so high up there. One of them must have kicked it or something… Whoever it was had a serious shot as a soccer player. Anyway, it was too high to simply knock it down. Guess climbing was his only shot after all.
Selecting a branch about midway up the tree, Groose twirled the hook-end of the rope in one hand before lobbing it up at the branch. The hook swung around a few times before catching, and Groose gave a few practice tugs to make sure it held before placing his foot on the trunk and pulling himself up.
It was tough work, but Groose was a strong guy. He reached the lowest branch without issue and steadied himself on it before working his way up the rest of the tree.
The kids gathered below him with looks of wonder on their faces. From across the park, he could see a few carpenters stopping what they were doing to watch his progress. He almost felt like he was back at school playing rugby, all eyes on him. He reached the branch that the makeshift grappling hook had secured itself to and heaved himself atop it, securing his position and gingerly raising to his feet, hoping the branch didn't give out under his weight as he reached for the ball.
From this height, he could see over the tops of the walls into the surrounding countryside. Snow-capped mountains, what looked like a giant tower, a forest… He blinked and did a double-take. Was that… a space telescope?! What on earth was that doing here?!
"Groose! What in Farore's name do you think you're doing?!"
Groose glanced down in surprise and found Midna standing at the foot of the tree in the middle of all the boys, a heavy frown on her face.
"Uh… Helpin' these kids get their ball back?"
"Well, hurry up and get down before you break your neck, alright? We can't afford to deal with that right now."
"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered to himself, snagging the ball and tossing it down to the sound of cheering from the kids. He shot one last look at the observatory before climbing back down, unhooking the rope as he went.
When he dropped back onto the grass, he shot Midna a cheesy grin only to be shut down by a look of flat disgust.
"What was that all about?"
"What? I was bored, and these kids needed some help, so-"
"So you went tree-climbing?! Groose, what if you fell and broke your leg or something?! There aren't any hospitals around here, and I don't know that going back in time would fix that! If you just used that thick head of yours for once, maybe we could-"
"Alright, alright, I get it! Geez!" He shook his head and started gathering up the rope to take back to the carpenters. Din, this chick nagged him worse than his mom! "No more tree-climbing! But listen, I thought I saw somethin' useful while I was climbin' that tree-"
"Oh Din, here we go…" She groaned, rubbing her face with her hands.
"No, really! Listen, I could have sworn I saw some sort of observatory or somethin'! Like, one of those buildings with those big telescopes for looking at the stars and stuff!"
"…and?" Midna deadpanned, not looking impressed.
"And? Well, we should go there! Some guy who studies space and stuff; he probably knows about the moon! Like, how it got this way and maybe what we can do to fix it!"
Midna stared at him but said nothing, idly chewing the inside of her cheek. Groose waited with baited breath, hoping she'd give in so he could finally do something useful…
"How would we even get there, anyway?" She finally asked, and Groose felt like cheering. Haha, he wore her down! No more sittin' on the stupid bench!
Before he could answer, a little voice piped up from behind him.
"Hey! Big guy!"
Blinking in surprise, Groose turned around and found himself confronted by the gang of kids, all of whom stood blinking up at him in owlish surprise. All save for the one in the red-bandana, the leader. He sized Groose up like he was an equal before turning and spitting into the grass. Groose liked him immediately. Midna, however, frowned with revulsion and shook her head.
"Disgusting…"
"Thanks for getting our ball back."
Groose smirked. "Nah, it was nothin'. Don't worry about it."
The boy scowled at him. "No way. The Bombers pay back our debts. We don't take charity from anybody."
"The Bombers?" Midna chimed in, looking confused.
The boy shot her an irritated look. "It's our secret club. We're the Bombers. We have a secret clubhouse that nobody can get into unless they're one of us. Normally we don't tell grown-ups, especially not… girls…" He said the word with so much derision that Midna quirked a brow, looking taken aback. "But this is a special case. We heard you saying you wanted to get into the Astral Observatory."
"The what?" Groose asked, dumbfounded.
"The place with the telescope, idiot," Midna hissed.
"Oh."
"Listen up," the boy barked, staring Groose dead in the eye. "The old man at the observatory is good people. He lets the Bombers use the space below his observatory as our hideout. The guards ain't letting anybody out of the gates right now on account of the monsters outside, but since you helped us, we'll let you use our secret passageway. But you have to promise not to tell anybody where it is. Ever. You got that?"
Midna shot Groose a look that seemed to say, 'oh you have got to be kidding me.'
Groose, however, merely nodded in acquiescence and said, "Alright. So where's this hideout?"
"Down an alleyway in East Clock Town, by the mayor's office. One of our guards will be on duty. Give him the password: five, three, one, two, four. Follow the sewer 'til you get to a ladder. Climb it and you're there."
"Guard?" Midna asked, incredulous, and was promptly ignored.
Groose and the red-bandana boy exchanged grave looks, sizing each other up one last time.
"Thanks, kid," Groose finally said, extending a hand.
The leader of the Bombers nodded, extending his own. They shook.
"Bombers, move out!" he cried, and they scattered.
Groose nodded respectfully and turned to Midna, a smug look on his face.
"You know… I like those kids."
Midna scoffed. "You would. They seem like your kind of people."
"Thanks!"
She opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head. "You know what, never mind. So I guess it's off to the sewers now? Yay…"
"Right. But give me a sec; I have to give this rope back."
Only Mack the carpenter didn't want his rope back. When Groose and Midna approached, they were met by a group of five or six men who applauded them with surprising gusto.
"You know what, kid?" Mack said, striding forward and slapping Groose on the shoulder, "You're alright. You got up that tree pretty fast too. You're pretty smart."
Midna groaned.
"Heh, thanks, Mack. Anyway, here's your stuff back-"
"Nah, you keep it," he replied, pushing the bundle back into Groose's surprised arms. "It was just scrap anyway, and who knows; a clever kid like you, you'll find a use for it."
Surprisingly touched, Groose tightened his grip on the rope.
"Thanks, Mack."
"Hey, no problem, kid. You sure you ain't lookin' for a job?"
"Nah, we were just leaving. We have some important stuff to do."
"Alright then. See you tonight at the Carnival, yeah? It's gonna be one to remember."
Something sour settled in Groose's stomach.
"Yeah… see you around."
There was silence as Groose and Midna walked away from the carpenters and the peace of North Clock Town. It was as though for a moment he'd forgotten about the weight of the moon over his head, but the moment Mack had mentioned the Carnival, it all came crashing back down. Sure, Midna seemed to think she could wind back the clock an indefinite number of times, but… In the end, she was only delaying the inevitable, and these people… These people would all die unless they found some way to help them.
The hustle and bustle of life washed over them like a tidal wave as they entered East Clock Town. He could see the Mayor's office, the men juggling in the plaza, people preparing for the festivities that night. He could see the moon overhead, preparing to crash down upon them and wipe them from existence…
"It was really nice of Mack to give me this," Groose said softly, looping the rope around one arm and fiddling with his belt buckle.
Midna rolled her eyes. "It's a bunch of rope and a hook. It's junk. What good is it going to do us?"
There was a bite in her tone, but something told him her frustration wasn't with him. Maybe Mack's comment had gotten to her too. Then again, Midna Twili was still a mystery to him; he didn't understand how girls like her ticked. She could be pissed about anything. It was probably something he did.
"Dunno. I guess we'll find out."
He threaded the rope through his belt so that it rested on the side of his hip, and he pushed one of the hook prongs into the back of his pants. There, now his hands were free. Next up, secret passageway…
There were numerous little alleys between the buildings in this part of Clock Town, but it wasn't hard to guess which one was the right one. After all, only one had a little boy in an orange bandana stationed out front with an angry scowl on his face.
"Hey, no trespassing!" he bellowed loudly as Groose and Midna drew near. "Bombers only! You want in, you have to know the password! And no way some girlie like you knows it, so scram! Outta the way! Move it!"
Midna's eyebrows rose, and something deadly flashed in her eyes.
"Well, aren't you one handsome little urchin?" Midna cooed in a voice like poisoned honey, bending over so she was uncomfortably close to the boy's face and winking at him.
Groose hid his smile behind his hand – ok, he had to give it to her, that was pure evil. The poor kid's face flushed bright pink, but he clung valiantly to his scowl.
"I-I'm not s-scared of you, lady!" he stammered uneasily. "I don't care how p-pretty you are! Nobody gets in without the-!"
"Five, three, one, two, four," Midna cut in smugly.
The boy's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "But-but-but…!" he stammered, looking for all the world like the sky was falling… Which, in a way, it was. "H-how did you…?!"
"I have my ways," she purred silkily before leaning forward and pecking the boy on the cheek.
He fainted.
"Well," she stated simply, straightening up and putting her hand on her hip. "Had I known it was going to be that easy, I'd have just started out with that. Who needs a password?"
Groose shook his head, chuckling. "That was mean. The poor kid's probably going to have all sorts of strange dreams."
"Meh, he deserved it. Stupid sexist little… Wait, are you saying my kisses cause nightmares, or… Groose! That's disgusting!"
He chortled as he easily fended off her fists and stepped over the now-unconscious boy. "Hey, he's gotta grow up sometime. Now come on, let's go meet this astronaut guy."
"Astronomer."
"Whatever."
Back into the alleyway, behind a couple crates and a half-empty rain barrel, sat an open manhole cover. The two teens exchanged twin looks of discomfort before Groose decided to man up and take the plunge first. The opening was narrow, so much so that Groose almost couldn't fit through; hey, he was a big guy. He was proud of all his muscle, but sometimes it could be an inconvenience. He had to remove the hook from the back of his pants and have Midna hand it down to him, but after a few moments of awkward grunting and shifting, he managed to get down the ladder into the small, dark sewer.
The whole room smelled of mold and dampness. Grimy floors, dirty brick walls – the indistinct sound of chattering rats echoed off them in random directions. A torch just ahead of him illuminated just enough of the sewer line for him to see where he was going; presumably, the Bomber's kept it lit and maintained the passageway. He could feel his skin crawling just from being down there, and he stooped low to make sure his hair didn't brush the filthy ceiling. The last thing he wanted was a spider laying eggs in his fabulously coiffed hairdo.
A moment later, Midna dropped down beside him and groaned, wrinkling up her face as she took in their new surroundings.
"This is disgusting."
"Let's just hurry up and leave."
"For once, I agree with you."
The passageway wasn't overly long; the tunnels clearly connected all over the village, but most of them were blocked off by locked gates, leaving only one way forward. There was barely more than a trickle of liquid on the ground, but it was enough to stymie them momentarily. They carefully picked their way through the gloomy passage, trying not to slosh too much water around as they reached the end of the tunnel and turned down the adjoining one, being forced to step into the sludge to carry on. It wasn't deep enough to reach the tops of their shoes, but it was still disgusting.
The second hallway opened up into a larger antechamber, filled with crudely made signs that said things like, 'Bomber's Hideout! Scram!', 'No Girls Allowed!', and 'Bombers Secret Society of Justice Forever!' Numerous toys and chairs dotted the room, as well as a table covered in papers and drawings and a couple of toy swords. It was still a little damp and gross, but he could see why the kids liked playing here. No adult supervision coupled with the sense of adventure… This was the sort of place he would have hung out in if he was still a kid.
At the end of the room, an old wooden ladder led up into the ceiling.
"Ladies first," Groose replied, motioning her forward.
"Shut up," she grunted, shoving past him and heaving herself upward. "And no looking at my butt!"
Groose snorted as he grasped a rung to follow up after her. "I can't look at what you don't have."
Her foot slipped and hit him in the face.
Groose howled in pain, hastily wiping the mud and sludge from her shoe out of his eyes.
"Whoops. Sorry," she called down sweetly, already almost at the top.
Grumbling, he hurried up after her.
When he finally clambered up the ladder and straightened to his feet, he found himself in an odd sort of storage room.
The floor was made of old, well-worn wood, and the walls apparently made of concrete. Another one of those weird clocks hung on the wall, idly ticking away. A single winding staircase followed the circular wall up to a second level. Some sort of wacky, new-age paint job had been done on it, so every segment was some different neon shade of green, yellow, red, or violet.
Crates and jars filled the small space, covered in tarps, globes, and oddly-shaped bundles, most of which were covered in dust. Glass tanks littered the room, housing exotic looking rocks that glittered like gemstones. Several sheets of paper littered the floor and a nearby writing desk, topped with quills and inkwells and stacks of ancient books. A chicken was held in a cage suspended in the air just over what looked to be an indoor garden, if such a thing existed in a place with no sunlight, complete with several ripe turnips and a scarecrow.
All in all, it didn't look like the kind of place Groose wanted to spend his time. This was clearly the crib of some whack-job free-spirited hippie. He turned to Midna, wondering if this place was more her speed, seeing as she was basically the dictionary definition of weird, only to find a similar look of discomfort on her face. Apparently, this place weirded out even her. That can't be a good sign.
"Where… are we?" she asked, stepping forward and picking up the globe, spinning it around. "And what is this supposed to be?! There aren't even any landmasses on here!"
"I guess this is the telescope place," Groose replied, examining some of the objects on the desk. There were compasses, protractors, rulers, an abacus, an astrolabe… And page after page of complicated equations. Whoever this dude was who lived here, he seriously knew his business.
"But why would an astronomer need a scarecrow and turnips?"
"Because that astronomer has big dreams," came a soft, older voice from behind them.
The two teens whirled around, hearts racing. Descending the staircase before them with slow, hesitant steps was the hunched form of a white-haired, knobbly old man. He wore a floor-length blue robe, complete with a matching fez, and sported a rather long, luxurious weave. His mustache wasn't joking around either, though his goatee was surprisingly wispy. His face was heavily lined and wrinkled, though when he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face them, Groose was surprised to see a look of profound sorrow on his face. This man must have gone through a lot.
"Who are you kids? You're not with the Bombers, are you?" the man asked, in a kindly, grandfather-like tone.
Groose and Midna exchanged looks.
"Uh, no sir," Midna offered, stepping forward. "We didn't mean to just barge in unannounced like this. We hope we didn't upset you."
The man smiled kindly. "Never, child. I welcome visitors. It isn't often people come to visit me. They think me mad, insult my work, and call my dreams delusions of grandeur…"
"What work?" Groose asked, looking around. "You mean all this math?"
"Yes, quite. I am Clock Town's resident astrologist; I study the stars and other celestial bodies, hoping to one day unlock the secrets of the universe…"
"What's mad about that?" Groose asked, rifling through the sheets of unworked math equations on the work table absentmindedly. It looked like some sort of formula related to Bernoulli's Principle, and a few notes jotted down about hydraulics.
"About curiosity? Nothing. Everyone has dreams, my boy. It's when you begin to pursue what others call impossible that people begin to look at you askance. But mark my words – one day, I shall fulfill my dreams, and sail a ship across the stars… Oh, but here I go, rambling on again. You must think me mad as well."
Groose barked out a laugh. "Definitely. You'd have to be insane to think you could make it up to space with this garbage. I mean, you demonstrated your work on velocity and displacement totally wrong – at least, you forgot there were more factors at play in reality, like gravity and friction from the air and... I'm no expert on this, but maybe a good starting point would be this equation here…" He snatched up the quill and scribbled a series of numbers and letters down on the parchment. "… It may not help you get into space, but it's a starting point. And this here… What is this, a rocket ship? Powered by bombs?! That's gotta be the most suicidal thing I've ever heard, and I'm a rugby man. Nah, you gotta get some kind of fuel that, after combustion or some kind of chemical reaction, expels hot gas or something with enough velocity to propel your ship in a certain direction with constant, steady force. Otherwise, you'll fall or blow up or…"
The sudden realization of what was coming out of Groose's mouth caught up to him, and he snapped his jaw closed. Turning hesitantly to face his companions with a nervous laugh, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he found himself met with two very strange looks. The astronomer was staring at him with something like mixed awe and wonder, as though Groose were the answer to all of his prayers. Midna, however, had an odd twist to her face, like Groose was some sort of particularly bizarre insect, and she was trying to decide whether she should squish him or not.
Hot shame was bubbling up in Groose's belly. It was one of his darkest secrets, something he'd sworn would never get out so long as he was a student at his new school. Groose… was a nerd.
Well, not really. He'd never go so far as to call himself a true nerd. But it was a fact that Groose was fascinated with and particularly gifted at physics. He wasn't too good at other parts of school; chemistry was iffy, biology a nightmare, history the bane of his existence, English pointless, and math great or awful depending on the subject. But physics… Physics was his passion. And his one great shame.
Upon moving to Ordon, he'd decided to remake his image. He'd worked out the whole summer, rededicated himself to sports, became the captain of the rugby team, hid any evidence of his nerdy secrets, and had sworn that in this, his senior year in high school, he, Groose Loft, would be the coolest, most popular, manliest guy in school. There was no room for scholastics in his dream. Only popularity… and the ladies.
He'd been doing pretty well, he liked to think. Chicks showed interest by playing hard to get, people parted for him in the hallways, everything was going great… Except for the fact that that Link Hero kept getting in his way. Hero was more popular, had more friends, literally everyone loved him, and he had the hottest girl in school as his girlfriend. No matter how hard Groose tried, despite the fact that he was better at sports, was the better-looking guy, and had the bigger personality, he'd never been able to beat Link.
And now, he'd just revealed one of his biggest secrets to Link Hero's best friends. His popularity was never going to live this down… It's a good thing she didn't know about his father, or he'd be done for.
"My boy…" the old man gasped, stumbling forward and snatching up the paper he'd scribbled the equation on, staring at it as though it were the secret of life itself. "How… How on earth did you come up with this principle?!"
"Oh, uh… School?" he offered lamely, casting nervous glances at Midna, who was still staring at him like a three-eyed frog.
"School? There exist academic institutions which teach such things as this?!"
"Uh… sure?"
"Where?! What is the name of this blessed haven of knowledge?"
"Ordon High-?"
"None of that matters right now, sir," Midna cut in loudly, flashing Groose a 'shut up right now, you imbecile' look.
The old man clutched at his chest as though suffering a heart attack. "N-none of it matters?! Excuse me?! This is my life's work, miss! I'll thank you kindly not to insult the very meaning of my existence!"
"Well, your existence is about to be cut painfully short when that moon dangling over our heads pummels us all into oblivion," she replied, tone drier than the Gerudo Desert.
Groose and the old man exchanged looks.
"I… I suppose you're right, my dear," the man panted softly, drawing back the chair in front of the work table and sinking into it. "If my calculations are correct, then by sometime tonight the moon ought to make contact with the city, and all shall be lost…"
"Right. But look, astronomy dude, we're here to find some way to stop it from happening, and we figured we'd come talk to you since you, ya know… study space and what not. Is there anything you can tell us about, I dunno, maybe when the moon started fallin'? Do you know what happened to change that?"
The man shook his head, a lost look on his face. "No, my dear boy, I do not… I can only recall that the moon began its perilous descent roughly a month ago. At the time, I didn't know what to think. However, we then began to hear reports of a masked imp showing up all throughout the land, sowing chaos, disrupting trade, pulling juvenile pranks with serious consequences… And now the land is in shambles, all hope has been lost, and the people merely wait for our inevitable demise. All things must end, after all… 'tis the nature of things…"
Groose and Midna exchanged looks again. The masked kid did this? Well, he sent them here, and he'd been on top of the clock tower, so in a way it made sense, but… He'd been there for a full month wreaking havoc? Well, time was certainly different here, but… Still, none of this was clicking.
"I don't get it. The kid in the mask did this? But how? How can you pull down the moon?"
"Magic," Midna said softly, staring down at the book in her hands.
"Yes indeed…" the astronomer chimed in. "A dark and nefarious magic that imp possesses… Derived from the mask he wears on his face…"
"Wait, so the mask is magical? How does that even work?"
The old man shook his head. "I do not know how his mask derived its powers; there are many ways. I merely know that his possesses them. In this land, it is not uncommon for masks to yield a power beyond one's understanding… I myself possess a strange mask handed down from a long-dead royal line said to make its wielder become as one of the legendary Giants of yore…"
"I knew it. I knew magic was the solution to our problems!" Midna shot Groose a dark look. "Look. I really need to sit down and read this book. Our only hope at saving this village and getting back to our friends could be hidden somewhere in these pages. Now stop distracting me, and let me read."
"No!" Groose nearly shouted, causing Midna and the astronomer to jump. "Listen, Midna, I get that you're doin' what you think you need to, but what about me? I can't just sit here and do nothin'! I want to help!"
"Help how?! Groose, how are you going to help? We're up against the moon here! What could you possibly do?!"
Groose's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. What could he do…? What could he do? There was nothing to be done. You can't fight the moon. You can't fight magic. It was illogical. He couldn't strong-arm his way through this problem with bravado and muscle, as much as he wanted to. It was grating, but there was a sinking feeling in his chest that he was going to have to step back and let Midna try to find a way out of this in that book of hers… Groose didn't have many strengths, and none of them were going to get them out of this situation…
Almost of their own volition, his eyes drifted back to the sheets of paper on the work table and the various diagrams and equations drawn there. His eyes landed on the image of the bomb-powered rocket the astronomer had been talking about, which called to mind another image; that of the bomb shop they'd passed the day before, and the massive bomb perched atop it.
Groose's hand drifted back to the grappling hook at his waist.
An idea blossomed in his head. A crazy idea. A psychotic, suicidal idea. Probably the single most brilliant idea he'd ever had. And he was going to make it work.
He barely paused to explain it to Midna. Taking the astronomer with him, they left Midna to her own devices there in the Astral Observatory where she'd have all the peace and quiet she needed to study her book. He made sure to promise that if midnight drew near, he'd come back to find her before the apocalypse happened so she could wind back the clock and they could try again. She wasn't too thrilled with him, but as he explained, Groose wasn't used to being kept on the sidelines. Groose was an action kind of guy. Besides, if his plan didn't work, they always had her, so he might as well give it a try.
He didn't go fully into detail on exactly what it was, though; he knew Midna would try and stop him. As it was, she seemed all too ready to let him run off on his own and leave her in peace.
Gathering up as many supplies as they could from the old astronomer's workshop, they scrambled down the ladder and through the sewer system, heading back to Clock Town. If Groose's plan was going to work, he would need every able-bodied man he could find. Thankfully, upon resurfacing, Groose and the astronomer quickly stumbled into the now-conscious orange bandana kid who was giving a detailed report to the boy with the red bandana and his blue bandana'd friends whom Groose had helped that morning at the park.
Judging by the sun, it was two or three in the afternoon; not a whole lot of time left. He had no idea how he was going to get all the townspeople together to listen to him… Until an idea struck.
Kneeling down, Groose quickly explained the situation to the leader of the Bombers, the astronomer leaning over and listening in curiously. The boy closed one eye and examined Groose thoughtfully before nodding his head and giving the thumbs up. Groose clapped the boy on the shoulder and thanked him before heading off towards South Clock Town with the astronomer in tow, the Bombers scattering in every direction.
They snagged a partially-constructed vacant stall and scattered their supplies out over it, picking up rulers and protractors and bits of charcoal to write with as they hastily began sketching out the designs for Groose's project, codenamed 'Operation Firework'. They argued back and forth for a bit, crumbling up papers and drawing out long equations, debating weight and distance and trajectory; never had Groose been so open in his hidden love for physics, and never had he had a partner who was more responsive. In fact… Groose couldn't remember having this much fun doing math in his entire life. He didn't even know that was possible!
Before long, he glanced up and realized that a small crowd of people had gathered in front of the stall, courtesy of the Bombers. He could see tourists and craftsmen, construction workers and guards. They'd done their job in getting the people's attention; now he just had to get them to follow him.
Standing up on the half-finished stall, tennis shoes thumping on the wooden boards, Groose looked out over the crowd and took in their faces; the hollow eyes, the sunken countenances, the general state of fear and hopelessness in which they all lived, cowering under the weight of the moon and a fate they thought they couldn't change… Well, Groose was here to fix that. As of now, they were taking destiny in their own hands.
"Everybody listen!" Groose cried loudly over the sound of bustle and murmuring. The people obeyed, eyeing his clothes and hair with apprehension and mistrust.
"I know that right now, most of you are doin' your best to put on a brave face. I know that you're terrified of the moon, of a fate you think you can't escape, but you still keep on walkin' around and actin' like what we see over our heads isn't there. You're in denial. You're deluding yourselves. The moon's gonna fall. I saw it. You're doomed."
Whispers broke out as the crowd became agitated, and he could see several angry glares and trembling shoulders. If he didn't hook them soon, there'd be a riot, and he'd be dead.
"You've been faced with a scary decision; stay here, in the only place you've known as home, and meet your death tonight on the Eve of the Carnival… Or else try and flee, and hope that you can somehow survive. I have bad news. It won't work; either way, you're dead."
Angry murmurs began echoing throughout the crowd, and he saw a few men begin hastily pushing their way towards the front to get to him.
"What if I told you that there was a way to stay in the city and have your Carnival, and still survive?" he shouted loudly, and the crowd hesitated, shooting him distrustful looks.
"I know this sounds insane, but I've been sent here to help you, and I think I found a way to do it! It's all right here, drawn up and mapped out on these sheets of paper! The old astronomer dude helped out, and he says my plan is good. This can work! We can save the village and the Carnival, together! But I'm going to need all of your help to do it!"
There was silence as the crowd stared up at Groose. Groose stared straight back, trying his best to look confident but acutely aware of the sweat dripping down his back. If this went poorly, they were liable to tear him to shreds.
From the back of the group, a man pushed himself towards the front and examined Groose critically through beady black eyes under a wild afro. Groose blinked in surprise; it was Mack, the carpenter.
"…What is it you need us to do exactly?" he asked after a moment.
Groose had to stop himself from laughing with relief. Praise the Goddesses that he'd met Mack earlier that morning. "I need all the artisans, all the blacksmiths, all the leatherworkers, and especially all the carpenters, to come with us. We'll need to bring all the lumber we can get our hands on. The astronomer and I have created a blueprint for a device that can save us from the moon, but it's too much work for two men alone to handle, so we're asking for your help. We're also going to need a lot of rope. If we can get anyone skilled in rope-making to get on the job right away, that would be perfect.
"The device requires more room than we have here in Clock Town though, so we'll need to go outside of the city walls to give us enough space- "
"But what about the monsters?!" a woman shouted from the crowd, and a new slew of murmuring began.
Groose blinked. Monsters? There really were monsters?! What kind of sick world was this?!
"Worry not!" cried a valiant voice from the crowd, and one of the soldiers pushed his way forward. He acknowledged Mack with a careful nod before turning his attention to Groose. "The town watch will form a perimeter and keep the monsters at bay."
A surprisingly loud cheer went up among the people gathered around Groose's stall, and he nodded in thanks to the soldier. He didn't know anything about 'monsters', but having guards would be good nonetheless.
"But wait!" somebody in the crowd called out, "Who is this boy? How do we know we can trust him?!"
There was another pause as the crowd turned in on itself, buzzing with dozens of miniature conversations, and just when Groose was worried that he was going to lose them all, the boy in the red bandana, leader of the Bombers, leaped onto the table beside Groose.
"Listen up, you old codgers!" the boy bellowed, cutting everyone off mid-sentence. "For too long have we sat around, listening to the grown-ups argue and bicker over the moon and the safety of the village! The Mayor hasn't got anything done! I say it's time we take matters into our own hands! This here's Groose, honorary member of the Bombers Secret Society of Justice! He's a good guy who likes to go around helping people! Already he's made friends with us, the Carpenters, and even the old geezer from the Astral Observatory. Even more, he's got a plan to help save everybody, and I say we give him a hand! Who's with me?"
It wasn't exactly the most inspiring speech of all time, but to Groose's surprise, the crowd let out a cheer, and instantly everyone began moving, heading out to complete their respective missions or gather their friends for the effort. Stunned, Groose hopped off the table and found himself surrounded by the astronomer, Mack, the leader of the Bombers, and the soldier who'd volunteered their services to protect them.
"What do we do first?" Mack asked, and Groose grinned.
"Start gathering our supplies and workers out in the field. We'll begin construction on the Groosenator immediately. But there's still one more person we need on board…"
The afternoon passed with surprising speed, even for a world where time moved faster than normal. One moment Groose was dishing out orders in front of a half-made stall, and the next he was standing in the fields outside the village, working a saw over a fallen tree. There was something cathartic in the work, something immensely satisfying in getting your hands dirty rather than sitting around like a lump while a girl did all the work, and he relished in it. Strangest of all, he felt good because… Well, he was helping people. And Groose had never really done that before.
The fields outside the city were surprisingly lush and green, full of hills and trees and acres of grass. In the distance, he could see a beautiful snow-capped mountain and in the other direction what looked like the ocean, but Groose didn't have time for sight-seeing. He was on a mission.
The people of the village worked with surprising alacrity. With the astronomer overseeing them from a worktable they'd carried out to the field, Groose, the carpenters, and anybody else who could lend a hand were busy chopping, sawing, sanding, shaping, and putting together the frame for Groose's grand design. The soldiers formed a defensive perimeter around their clearing, though Groose wasn't really paying attention to what they were doing. He hadn't seen any monsters when he'd walked out there, but he'd take them at their word. He'd rather they stand around doing nothing than not be there and have them get devoured by rabid wolves or the like.
The Bombers helped out by carrying water and small supplies. Craftsmen and blacksmiths began appearing with lengths of heavy rope as well as nails and metal bands to reinforce the structure. It seemed as though nearly half the townsfolk showed up to help build the Groosenator; maybe they weren't as helpless as he thought. Apparently, all they needed was a good kick in the butt and somebody to lead the way.
Day swiftly turned to night, and torches were brought out to illuminate the field so the men could keep on working. As they hollowed out the bowl and attached the arm, Groose couldn't help but wonder how on earth they'd managed to finish the project before midnight. No way could they have constructed such a thing in under an hour… unless… Unless, because time was relative, by losing focus on the passing of the sun he'd become a part of this world and therefore bound himself momentarily to their sense time, thereby making it feel as though time passed normally and giving them enough time to finish the project…
All of this was too confusing for Groose, so he shrugged off the thought.
At last, as the earth gave a tremendous quake and the Clock Tower within the city began to chime and move, signaling that midnight had arrived and destruction was imminent, a wagon appeared from within the city, carrying the massive bomb from the bomb shop.
A cheer went up from amidst the gathering crowd, and men immediately set to work removing the massive explosive from the cart and placing it in the bowl of the Groosenator. A proud grin illuminated Groose's face. He could barely believe it… He'd done something right.
"Groose! Groose!"
Turning in surprise, Groose found himself face to face with an out of breath Midna, who jogged into view and doubled over panting.
"Here… you are… We gotta… go…"
"Go? But we're about to do it!"
"Do what?" she asked, confused, and then her eyes alighted on the catapult. "What in the world…?" she breathed, looking floored.
Groose couldn't blame her. It was quite the work of art if he did say so himself. Nearly the size of a house, this catapult, lovingly named 'The Groosenator', defied any and all expectations that he'd had for it. It was a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship, a true testament to hidden genius and the will to survive. Honestly, it deserved recognition in the Guinness Book of World Records… Assuming this world had such a book.
As they looked on, the massive bomb was successfully loaded and another cheer went up.
"Groose…" Midna breathed, "what is that?"
"Heh. That's the Groosenator. Designed her myself."
"You what?! How…?! Why…?! Since when could you do things like that?!"
Groose blushed and scratched at the back of his head. "Oh. Um… Well, see, it's like this… My dad, he, um… He's a carpenter."
He let the last bit out in a rush, flinching, waiting for her to start laughing like he knew she would.
A moment passed by and nothing happened, so he cracked an eye open to check on her. She was staring at him nonplussed.
"…And?"
"And? O-oh, uh…" Why wasn't she laughing? This was his most shameful secret of all time. His family was poor. He'd never live this down. Why didn't she care? "Well, I'd go and help him out sometimes when he needed it, and… Well, I'm pretty good at working with my hands."
"More than pretty good, I'd say," she muttered, staring at the catapult with admiration.
Groose blinked. "Uh… thanks."
"So what are they loading in there?"
"Oh, um… A bomb. Remember that huge bomb we saw on that shop the night before? Well, I figured we could put it to good use."
"You did what?!"
One of the soldiers took a torch and pressed the flame into the wick of the bomb, igniting it. Another cheer went up.
The ground shook again, and the sky burned red. The moon was entering the atmosphere.
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Groose yelled over the roar of the wind and the cheers of the townspeople.
"NO! No, it is not great, Groose! Are you insane?! What do you think is going to happen once that bomb hits the moon?!"
"Uh… It'll blow up?"
"Yeah! It'll blow up! And then what happens?!"
"Uh…?"
Before he could answer, Mack the carpenter approached the catapult and, to the cheering of the crowd, pulled the lever.
"No, wait!" Midna cried, running forward, but it was too late.
With a tremendous snap, the arm jerked forward at a blinding speed, launching the massive bomb into the air. The crowd grew silent as every pair of eyes followed the lit explosive on its crash-course to the moon.
There was a massive, eardrum-bursting explosion and a flash of blinding light. Everyone was knocked to the floor.
Disoriented, Groose heaved himself to his feet and, dizzy, turned his attention back to the village.
Horror overwhelmed him. As he looked on, powerless, massive flaming chunks of the moon showered down on the village, crushing buildings, igniting the thatch. The clock tower was struck and toppled to the side. Red painted the skyline as terrorized screams could be heard echoing from the city, and the end of the world rained down upon them.
Groose felt sick.
"Midna… Midna! Midna, play the song! Midna, now, play it! Play the song! Play the-!"
The wind intensified, lifting him off his feet, and the world went white.
