Zelda has Link's paraglider set up on a work bench in the back of the forge. She sketches it in meticulous detail. Measures every part. Folds it and refolds it and folds it and refolds it.
The Gorons throw themselves into helping her construct the frame. They've been a bit down after the completion of their scaffolding project, so even though it's a little thing, they're glad for something out of the ordinary. Zelda uses this to mention the other infrastructure projects she has planned, and they're starting to come around. They spend some time looking at the pictures she took of the East Reservoir in the Zora's Domain, and the Gorons in the forge talk about the logistics of getting there long enough to decide it sounds like a lot of work.
Link's glider is made of wood, but it doesn't light on fire because—as Link says—"a ghost made it." Zelda doesn't have that luxury, so they construct a light, flexible frame of carbon-aluminum alloy. Rohan, the blacksmith, shows her how to heat the rock, how to pour it into the mold, then how to hammer the molten metal into shape. He does most of the work, but the small pieces he tells her to try turn out well, and he seems pleased with her work. They have to try several times before they achieve the perfect alloy, but neither of them mind that much.
Link has to pull her out of the forge and off to Lake Darman for the next challenge. She spends the whole trip there explaining the work she's done with the glider. As they're searching the shore for signs of glowing blue markers, she explains the Goron's mentality of "if it doesn't work the first time, we'll just try again." They follow through on this with resounding consistency, but Zelda cannot wrap her mind around it enough and it surprises her every single time.
"It's a good way to go about things," Link says. "You try, and you mess up, and you learn for when you try again."
Or you can do it right the first time, she thinks. Out loud, she asks, "Is this how you approach fighting lynels?"
Without a hint of irony, he says, "Pretty much."
The ground begins to tremble. The lake bubbles and surges, a thick wave swelling onto the shore so Zelda has to scurry backwards. A hot wind picks up, whipping at her clothes.
From the lava rises the most massive talus Zelda has ever seen.
The heat intensifies, and for a moment, they can do nothing but stare at it. Slowly, carefully, as if it can only see her if she makes sudden motions, Zelda lifts the slate and snaps a picture. Still slow and careful, she sinks to a crouch behind a rock.
Link looks surprised, but not scared. He's still standing there, staring at it. Despite Zelda's very careful maneuvering to avoid notice, Link uses a perfectly normal voice at a perfectly normal volume when he says, "That's a big monster."
"Link?"
He takes his eyes off the monster to look down at her.
"Please stay alive enough to learn from any mistakes you make."
He grins at her, takes a big breath, and runs towards the rock behind which she's hiding. He leaps up onto it and pushes off with one foot, launching himself into the air. It's a good thing she gave him his paraglider back.
He doesn't make any mistakes.
In the shrine, they have to shoot a cannon at a target. She watched the Gorons shoot a cannon, of course, but she had to keep most of her questions to herself since they were in the middle of shooting Yunobo and a large piece of equipment at the Divine Beast to install the stairs, and her questioning was delaying the installation. Link promised the take her to the North Mine to look at those cannons, an offer she promptly forgot once aboard Vah Rudania.
So now she climbs around, sketching, measuring, climbing inside to poke at the various parts. How does the cannon apparatus rotate? What keeps the explosion contained to the inside of the cannon? How far can it shoot? And that will probably change depending on the angle of incident. Can they change the angle of incident?
Link demonstrates how if the bomb is set off at just the right time as the cannon swings around, it will hit the target. It opens the door, but Zelda is unsatisfied. Surely there's a way to place it in the correct position and fire it while it's not moving. How ridiculous! How is this useful?!
Success here leads to an even more elaborate set up involving a tunnel that rotates in the air at Zelda's command of a device like a Armillary Sphere. "Absolute nonsense," she says, her eyebrows pinched together, her whole body leaning to the left to properly align the thing.
Link agrees with a hum and fires off the cannon again.
#
Despite how they've had to adjust the carbon-aluminum ratio a few times to get the heft of the glider just right, Zelda manages to complete the frame in just a few days. The beams of the frame flash when they catch the light. It folds away neatly. It pops open with ease. It holds its shape no matter how much she pushes on it or presses on it or drops it or throws it or kicks it.
Next is the fabric. Logically, they should go to Hateno for it, as there's little to be found in Goron City. But Zelda doesn't want to go back until their work in Eldin is at least at a decent holding point.
"Why not?" Link asks. "We can just glowing-string-travel. We'll be gone an hour, and then we'll be right back."
"But..." She bites her lip. In a small voice she asks, "What if the Sheikah spot us in town buying fabric?"
"What if they do?" he asks, honestly not following her. "We can just tell them what we're doing."
"But...I'm not sure they'd approve of me spending my time building a paraglider. Or even using a paraglider. What does that have to do with politics?"
"It's about your safety aboard Vah Rudania. They'll appreciate that you're being safe."
"Or," she says, "it will clue them in that there's a safety concern. And what if they start to doubt you and if you're taking my safety seriously—which I know you are, and I know I don't make it easy for you and I know that even you think I shouldn't be up there even though the paraglider was your idea."
"So you're mostly worried that they'll agree with me and tell you to stop and you won't be able to twist their arms as easily as you twist mine."
"I—" She swallows and looks away. "What if they tell me to stop working on the Divine Beasts?"
He's silent for a moment, then comes to sit next to her in their hammock. His voice is gentle as he says, "They won't. And if they do, you'll just ignore them."
"But it will still hurt. I understand it's foolish. I just..."
"You can't help being afraid."
They sit in silence a moment. Is there some way she could make a cloth substitute? The Gorons do use cloth, they just don't sell any, so maybe she can find out where they got it. Perhaps one of the Gerudo traders is selling some.
Link says, "It sounds to me like we're in need of a stealth mission."
"Oh?"
He grins at her and boops her nose with a finger, and she rears back and swats him away, rubbing the tip of her nose to make it stop tingling.
He digs through his stuff to pull out his Sheikah armor. It takes a while to get all the fiddly leather armor plates and all the wrappings in place. He has some trouble finding the wrappings that go around his wrists. Zelda uses the delay to appreciate the way the fabric is tight around his forearms, something she usually can't see under the wrappings. Finally ready, he tugs the big wrap over his nose and sets out into the night.
Twenty minutes later, he drops the royal blue fabric from their house into her lap. "The shrine here is a bit of a hike," he says, then starts to unwind the wrappings around his face.
"I..."
He pauses to look up at her.
She winces. "I don't suppose you brought my needles?"
He surprises her by grinning. "Oh, this is a real quest now!" He covers his face again and dashes out of the inn.
"Bring my whole kit!" she calls.
#
The next challenge is in Darb Pond, where between assertions of their manliness and shouting about being beefed up, a couple of Gorons tell her that Lord Daruk himself used to train here by standing in the lava. Therefore, apparently, Link needs to stand in a glowing blue circle out in the middle of the lava pond.
Link immediately strips off all his equipment and grabs for his flamebreaker armor. While he's climbing into his tin-can-like pants, Zelda uses the slate to move a pair of metal boxes out into the pond in hopes he'll stand on them rather than try to swim out there or something equally ridiculous. "Thanks. That's good thinking," he says. With his chest plates surrounding him, he has trouble bending in to kiss her cheek, but he does it anyway before he puts on his helmet and runs, clunking and crashing, off their little outcropping. He glides to the boxes, and the next shrine appears.
He does not like this shrine. In fact, she can say with absolute assurance that he hates it.
She doesn't put together that all of the shrines in the Zora's Domain were water themed until she realizes that the shrines around the volcano are fire themed. In this one, it seems they have to use the magnesis rune to move around another metal cube to block jets of flame so that they can progress. Simple enough, but Link vibrates with anxiety.
He pulls off his helmet and lets it clatter to the floor, then he clanks to the floor and pries off his metal boots. There's a large gear mechanism that unlocks them from the leg coverings. "Okay. Put on my armor. The whole set."
She makes no move to put on his armor or help him remove his gear. "It won't fit me," she says.
Link unlatches some clasps at his waist and wriggles out of his pants. They remain the same shape even when he's no longer occupying them.
"I'm going to trip over my feet," she says. "And I won't be able to see through the helmet. This feels more dangerous than not wearing it."
"Just put it on."
"I really don't think it's necessary."
"Fine. Then it's not necessary. It's a favor. That you're doing for me." He pulls at the straps on his sides to loosen them.
She hesitates.
"There's no one here to see how goofy you look."
"There's you."
He waves this away and hefts the chest plates over his head. When he reemerges, he says, "I've already seen you at your worst."
Maybe he means that to be encouraging. But it is not. It is mortifying. Even though it makes no sense, all she can think to splutter is, "You what? When?!"
He gives her the most confused look he's ever given her.
"I—" She strokes back her hair. "But I look alright now, right? No. I most certainly don't and haven't for weeks. I basically live inside a cave when I'm not sleeping inside an abandoned mechanical beast. But this can't be my worst. When have I been at my worst? I know I wasn't at my best during the Calamity when I let absolutely everyone down, and I was dirty and bruised and panicked and sobbing. And I know I treat you poorly during the months after you first claimed the Master Sword. Or do you mean my panic attacks? Or I suppose you have seen me sleep and seen me just after I wake with bad-haircut-bed-head and morning breath."
She desperately needs an answer to this question. It burns far worse than the fires before them.
He comes up to her with his chest plates tucked under one arm and puts a hand on the side of her face. It calms her. Get her to refocus.
"Your terrible-haircut-bed-head is funny. And your morning breath is not so bad."
She considers this a moment, then nods. "So I am at my worst when I'm having a personal failure."
He rolls his eyes and shifts his weight, clearly wanting to take her face in both hands. But he can't because he's holding his enormous armor that she's definitely not going to wear. "What will it take to get you to wear this? What can I promise you? Is there any way bribery is an option?"
Her first response is, No, I'm not wearing that. But then his thumb brushes over her cheek, and he's looking at her so intently, and she thinks that maybe if he kissed her, if he dropped the armor he's holding and takes her face in his hands and pulls her close, then maybe she'd wear it. But then that's coercion, and she can't do that to him (because she has no doubt that he's just that serious about this armor situation), and it wouldn't be real anyway, and she'd just end up more befuddled and sad.
And she's taking too long to come up with something, just staring at him and imagining things that are embarrassingly inappropriate. She needs to say something. Something. Anything. Right now. Can she ask him to talk to Impa for her? Should she ask for sword fighting lessons or something along those lines? Should she demand a week in Hateno once they're done in Goron City, so she can work on her many, unfinished projects? Should she ask for something she neither wants nor needs, just to get it over with? Amber? A nice dinner? Flowers? Maybe he could kiss her?
His posture deflates. She's taking too long, and this looks really bad, she looks like she so desperately doesn't want to wear his armor that she can't be bribed. She so desperately doesn't want to wear it that she won't even do it to relieve his anxiety. The intensity in his eyes has faded to defeat, the pressure of his hand lessening.
She still thinks the armor is a bad idea, but she can at least do him the service of showing him what a bad idea it is.
Before he can pull away, she huffs and grabs the chest plates from him. Or at least she tries. It's heavy and awkward.
He perks up immediately and helps her lift it over her head. It sits heavy on her shoulders, and the hole for her head is so big that it sits in an awkward place against her shoulder bone. It's stuffy inside, but it's also only as hot as her own body heat. "You owe me a bribe," she says as she adjusts the gloves. He's lucky she's been working in the forge with huge Goron gloves. "I just can't think of anything right this second."
"Sure," he says, holding the pants to make it as easy as possible to step into them. It's still not easy. "Rain check."
#
Two days later, Zelda has a royal blue paraglider and a harness she'll wear on Vah Rudania that isn't too unwieldly. She's thinking of embroidering something on the fabric of her paraglider, but she hasn't decided what, and she doesn't have the time to do it right now anyway.
They practice over the hot springs of Lake Ferona, standing on a little outcrop so they can glide out into the water. He has them switch paragliders at first. "It's not that I don't trust yours," he says. "It's just that I know mine works."
She rolls her eyes, but then he's standing right behind her, guiding her hands to lift his glider, his palms tracing over her arms. "Hold it up over your head. Just like that. And you've got to hold on tight. Keep a small flex in your arms. Don't just hang there or you won't be able to steer, and then you'll fall. You'll feel a strain in your arms and shoulders here. And if you're airborne long enough it'll start to cramp your fingers. So be aware of how much longer you can hold it."
The glider over their heads is like an umbrella, creating sense of privacy she hadn't felt in the open on the bank of the lake, even though they're the only ones around. The heat of him behind her rivals the heat rising off the water. She can feel the worn places where his hands have held this glider. She turns her face to him, and he's right there, just a breath away. His eyes are bluer than the water, and she wonders what it would be like to sink into them: so warm she'd turn light headed, her skin sweating and the sweat evaporating.
She snaps around and clears her throat. "Anything else?"
"It's easier to hold it so it doesn't catch the wind, but if it's not catching the wind, that means you're falling. Falling is the easiest thing to do. You'll feel it when the wind catches. It'll pull. Don't let go when it pulls."
"Alright."
"You ready?"
She swallows and nods. She's been excited for this. But now that she's here (on this very small hill) she starts to question what she was thinking.
"I'm ready."
He leans even closer and whispers against her ear, "You've got this." For a moment, his lips hover over the tender spot right below her ear. She squeezes her eyes closed, praying that he'll kiss her, that she won't embarrass herself when he does, and that she'll someday very very soon get her emotions under control.
Instead, he bumps his forehead affectionately against her temple. He ducks away, nudging her waist in encouragement as he releases her. She shoves down her idiotic disappointment, takes a deep breath, sets her shoulders, and runs.
The paraglider catches before she's ready to leap. It lifts her straight off her feet, and she has to remind herself not to hang limp. She has to actively pull herself up. And then she's over the water. She's gliding. She's airborne! She can see the whole stretch of the hot springs, reaching out in either direction. And as she twists to get a better view, the glider naturally turns, and then she's experimenting, pulling into a wide circle until she can see Link again back on the outcropping. He waves, then runs towards the edge, popping open her paraglider over his head and sailing into the air. It holds up beautifully, although there's a bit of fabric at the back on one side that flutters too much.
He catches up, gliding around her in lazy circles. A laugh bubbles up from her chest, and she swerves back and forth in a drunken zig zags until she runs out of altitude at the base of the outcropping and lands in ankle high water. The paraglider keeps going, tugging her forward until she nearly topples over. Link splashes down beside her, grabbing her elbow to steady her, and she snatches her paraglider from his hands to make adjustments.
"It pulls to the—"
"To the left. Yes, I saw." She gives the fabric a few sharp tugs where it's attached to the frame at one corner, scooting it a good half inch. Then she's clambering back up the outcropping to try it herself.
There's no flapping this time, and no distinct pull. The grips bite into her hands more than Link's did. Her glider is more responsive, meaning she has to be careful with her motions, but also she can maneuver with less force. She's also more easily swayed by a sharp wind. Only once she's run through her assessment, does she realize that she's flying—flying!—with a paraglider that she's built herself. Her industriousness has given her the sky.
She aims back towards Link, but skims the surface of the water well before reaching him. It's deeper here, and she hits the water and folds her glider before she goes under. The hot springs burn and bubble up her nose. The odd temperature, the odd density of the water makes it disorienting, and she resurfaces gasping.
Link is splashing towards her through waist deep water, but he slows his mad dash when he sees her appear. She treads water a moment, then makes her way closer until her foot finds a rock and then another, and then the water's only up to her chest. He takes the glider from her, and she uses her free hands to remove her kerchief, duck her head back under the water, and slick back her hair.
"The maneuverability is amazing!" she says. She takes back her glider and pop it open once more to inspect it. "I'd be curious to see if it still works while wet, but I suppose it won't take long to dry in this heat. I feel we could move to higher ground with just a few more test flights here."
She heads back towards the outcropping to try again. She gathers up the hem of her red shirt and wrings out the excess water. It immediately sticks back to her skin. Her collection of belts to hold the slate and her equipment are so waterlogged that they hang heavy and lopsided off one hip. She wipes her hands on her thighs as if she can wring water from her pants. "I see what you mean about arm strength. But surely I can find some exercises that would improve my obliques and trapezius. I bet the Sheikah will know. Or do you—"
She startles him when she turns. He looks as if he wasn't paying attention, as if he zoned out staring somewhere in the general area of her aforementioned obliques. His eyes jump up to her face when she spins on him.
She frowns at him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he says, shaking it off and trudging after her. "I was just...thinking."
"Oh? Do you know of some exercises to improve those muscle groups?"
"I was thinking that right now you're definitely not at your worst."
She grins at him and gathers her wet hair to wring it out and twist it over one shoulder. "You're too kind. But I would like to know how long I can glide before I become too tired to continue. That's not something I want to sneak up on me."
"Sensible," he says.
"Naturally." She scurries up the rock face to launch herself off again.