Chapter 17: Respite

Feeling somewhat drained after his reception and the long explanation that followed, Link had done as Mayor Herrene, the headmaster, and even Fi had advised, retreating to the Academy's luxurious baths to scrub away the filth of his travels and battles, though the tension of all he had seen and done and had to do still stretched out before him.

Where was Zelda? Was she safe?

Could she be safe, with that demon, Ghirahim, hunting her?

The answer to that seemed obvious. No, of course she couldn't. He had to catch up to her, find her. If she felt she had to do whatever it was that Fi wanted them to do, whatever the great task she'd claimed the goddess had set them was, then they'd do it together.

She'd have to spend time crossing the land to Eldin, wouldn't she? Time he'd gain flying there, descending again through whatever opening in the clouds the broken stone map revealed. He'd almost found her in the temple in the forest; he'd have a better chance a second time. He knew what the surface was like now, knew that Fi would be able to guide him in Zelda's direction as long as he could find her trail.

Taking a deep breath, he ducked his head under the water, light shimmering through the surface and turning the fanciful cloudscape of the wall mural into a mirage, even the plain grille set into the ceiling wavery as an illusion. Warm water threaded through his hair as if in an attempt to soothe his cares away, and Link let his face break the surface again before scrubbing his hands through it, fingers catching in the knots until he carefully teased them free.

It wasn't a luxury he expected Zelda to have.

Sitting up sharply, Link reached for the soap, rubbing it into his hair, across his face. Even if he did need to rest, he also needed to go back down there, to wherever Eldin was. At the very least he could prepare for it, try to plan ahead. He ducked his head back under the water, washing the soap off to drift in swirls across the surface, and came up dripping, rubbing both hands across his face to swipe the worst of the water from his eyes.

"Fi?" he called through. The sword was with the rest of his things just beyond the curtain that separated the bath – heated by the fires of the Academy's huge kitchen directly below – from the rest of the room, where what felt like a hundred flannels and towels sat folded on shelves and laundry baskets waited to receive students' dirty clothes. "What's Eldin like?"

The soft chime, fast growing familiar, of Fi's emergence from the sword sounded, and Link's eyes widened as her light passed unhindered through the curtain and formed the floating spirit just beyond the edge of the bath, her blank eyes looking, as always, directly at him.

"The Eldin region is characterised by-"

Link snatched frantically at the flannel, water splashing everywhere as he attempted to both draw his legs up and get the small cloth into the most strategically sound position possible at the same time.

"Fi!" he protested, face burning with embarrassment.

"Master?"

"You – you shouldn't be in here!"

Fi tilted her head, her emotionless demeanour somehow making it even worse. "I was not aware that the social customs surrounding bathing extended to non-humans."

"Well, they – they do, okay?" Especially if they're female spirits!

"I will withdraw if this will make you more comfortable, Master. However, you have not previously demonstrated such reservation."

"What?! Of course I would have!"

"That is incorrect, Master Link. On the morning two days prior to this, you rose and dressed in a manner consistent with the necessary urgency of your quest, and inconsistent with the reservation you now display."

Link thought back to that morning, remembered abruptly the sword he'd gained so strangely in the night resting beneath the bed, waiting for him to buckle on its scabbard and take it up. Had she-?

"You – do you see everything that happens around the sword?" He didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed in his life.

"Perceive would be the more accurate term, Master, since strictly speaking the sword does not possess eyes. However, the answer to your question is yes. Unless I enter a state of dormancy, I am perpetually aware of my surroundings." She fell silent for a moment, her statement complete, then continued. "If it is of any reassurance, my perceptions are not significantly affected by the clothes that you wear or do not wear."

That was the opposite of reassuring. Everyone's naked under their clothes, Link's cousin Teren had teased him last year when he went back home to visit Spindrift, the small and wholly unremarkable island where most of the rest of his family lived year-round. He'd laughed at him then. I don't know if I want to think about that!

"Great…" he said aloud, burying his face in his free hand briefly. "Well…" What could he say? Fi didn't even seem to care, and yet… "Even if it doesn't matter to you, I'm sorry I didn't think about it." Embarrassing or not, he truly was sorry. It hadn't even occurred to him to consider whether the sword under his bed could see.

"Your apology is accepted, Master, although it is unnecessary," Fi replied. Link wondered briefly whether her voice had warmed a subtle fraction, or whether he had just imagined it in his relief at her calm acceptance. "I shall update my definition of social customs to avoid causing future discomfort." She looked at him for a moment longer before drifting backwards, vanishing intangibly through the curtain without it so much as swaying, and Link couldn't help but relax slightly, though he knew the curtain probably didn't make any difference to her either.

"Thanks, Fi," he said, with mingled embarrassment and relief.

"You are welcome, Master Link. Do you wish me to continue describing my knowledge of the Eldin region?"

"Uh… all right. Yes, please."

I guess if it doesn't matter to her, she also wouldn't feel bad about it…

Fi continued speaking as if she had never stopped, eternally calm.

"The Eldin region is characterised by the large volcano that dominates it. Based on my observations of the Faron region, there is a 97% probability that it will be highly volcanically active. Hazards you should prepare for include toxic gases and extreme heat. Creatures living there will be adapted to the hostile environment."

Volcano…? Link frowned, dredging up myths and stories from his memory as he hastily scrubbed himself clean. "Fi, what is a volcano? In the stories it's an evil mountain that spits fire somehow…" Her comment on Headmaster Gaepora's unrivalled knowledge echoed in his mind. What else didn't his people know?

"As you surmise, Master, it is clear that information has been lost over time. A volcano is any point at which the rock which forms the surface of this world ruptures or fissures, permitting the escape of lava and associated substances from the magma chamber beneath. Lava or magma is the term for molten rock, according to its location. Volcanic activity is frequently exacerbated by negative spiritual influences in the vicinity."

Link listened, a little wide-eyed. Molten rock? Fi's last words started him thinking again, however, as he reached for the towel he'd left nearby, standing and wrapping it quickly around himself as he stepped out onto the tiled floor.

"Negative influences… like the demons, right?"

"That is correct, Master."

"So you think the volcano will be… active because of the demons?"

"I predict that their presence will be a primary driver of activity, yes," Fi agreed, and Link smiled a little, drying himself off and beginning to dress as rapidly as he could. Even if she hadn't really sounded approving, she hadn't seemed to disapprove either.

Fi was silent as Link finished dressing and returned to the other side of the room, brushing the curtain aside as he passed. Although her spirit had vanished, the sword lay where he had left it, safely sheathed and resting across the top of his armour. He tugged his boots back on, lacing them securely before once again buckling belt and baldric into place. Though there was little reason to bear a sword on Skyloft, it didn't feel right to leave the sacred blade, or Fi within it, behind.

Link gathered up his chainmail, hooking it over his left arm, and picked up the splintered shield in his right hand. The laundry would take care of his battered uniform, but he'd need to take the armour and shield out to the training hall. He found himself hoping he wouldn't run into too many people on the way as he opened the door – and nearly walked into Pipit's autumn-yellow back. The older student spun around, serious expression lightening.

"Pipit?"

"Link! It's good to see you back." Pipit hesitated there, seeming to cut himself off.

"…What are you doing out here?" Link asked.

"Keeping everyone out," Pipit admitted. "Half our fellow students seem to be skipping their classes right now. I saw you go in here and realised if someone didn't hold the door, you'd be mobbed." He glanced up and down the corridor, looking pointedly at a younger student – Renne, Link thought – who had paused on the stairs to watch them. Under Pipit's stern gaze, she wilted slightly before hurrying past, glancing sidelong at Link but not risking speaking to him.

Link shook his head, smiling a little, relieved, embarrassed, and grateful all at once. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You're doing a real knight's work, going into… that, to look for Zelda." Again, he hesitated, and Link could see the question Pipit's own sense of honour wouldn't let him ask lurking in his eyes.

"I haven't found her yet," he admitted quietly, Pipit falling in beside him as he started to walk with a beckoning tilt of his head. "But I know she's alive, and she must be more or less all right. She'd left her handkerchief pinned under a stone slab – like a sign in case someone was following her. And I know where she was trying to head, I think."

Clear relief broke the clouds in the older student's expression. "That's great news! Will we be organising a search party?"

Link hesitated. "I don't know… I mean, it…"

"I'm sorry, Link. I was supposed to stop people asking you questions, not ask my own!" Pipit actually seemed almost angry at himself. "I'm sure the headmaster will make an announcement this evening. Everyone will find out then."

As they stepped off the bottom of the stairs, Link wondered whether the last couple of sentences had been directed at him at all.

"It's okay, Pipit. I know everyone's worried. I just… there's so much to explain. But-"

"Nonsense. I won't even hear of it!" Pipit waved a finger in Link's face. "If you explain to me now, then you'll be honour bound to explain to them –" as they avoided a group of older students who seemed to be returning from some book-finding expedition, and who seemed minded to approach until Pipit glared at them "– and then the rest of the Academy, and then all of Skyloft. No. You've told the headmaster, and the mayor too from what I saw, and that's good enough. Just focus on what you need to do, and don't let anything stop you." His tone grew gentler as he went on, losing some of its firm edge. "And no matter how hard it is, try to keep a brave face. If you can do that, the unhappiness will roll off like water off a loftwing's back. I always try to keep that in mind."

Link smiled a little. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." The older student set a hand on Link's shoulder briefly. "Just get on with what you need to do. Training hall, right?" he added, as he opened one of the carved front doors, holding it for Link.

"Yeah."

"It's too close to lunch for sparring, so you should be in luck. As long as no-one sees you going!"

"I'll hurry. Bye, Pipit."

"Goodbye, Link."

The door shut, and Link hurried quickly along the well-trodden path around the side of the Academy to the practice yard and training hall. As Pipit had implied, there was no-one around, and it was with some relief that he crossed the broad yard and entered the huge training hall, shutting the door gently behind him.

The only person in the hall was Knight Commander Eagus, going through a complex training routine on the raised stage at the back. Link recognised the moves after he'd made only three or four of them, a difficult sequence executed flawlessly. As he approached, Eagus paused with his sword raised high, then lowered it slowly, straightening up from his fighter's stance.

"Link?" His eyes flicked down from Link's face briefly. "Come to sort out your gear?"

Link nodded.

"Good. A knight should always maintain his weapons and armour." Eagus frowned. "Hand me that shield?"

Obedient, Link passed it over, watching as the Knight Commander's eyebrows shot up.

"The surface truly is a dangerous place," he mused, inspecting the damage. "I'll take this and get it repaired. Or maybe scrapped… Either way, I'll make sure you have a new shield before the evening. Something a bit sturdier, too. I'm sure you can handle the weight."

Eagus set the splintered shield down on the floor beside him and turned back to Link, though not without a last glance at the almost perfect hole left by the Goddess Sword's peerless blade.

"Now, what else do you need? Don't be afraid to ask. Gaepora told me everything." His eyes drifted to the pale blue hilt visible over Link's shoulder. "I may not know all the details of what's going on here, but it seems clear enough to me how important it is. Headmaster Gaepora says that sword you're carrying is the one from the legend of the Goddess' Chosen. Since you're the one who found the chamber beneath her statue, and you're the one bearing the sword, I think I can more or less figure out the rest. So, is there anything I can do that would help you?"

Hearing Knight Commander Eagus' straightforward acceptance felt like an unexpected, strange relief, lifting a weight Link hadn't known was there.

"Thank you, Knight Commander. Actually, I… the place I think Zelda has gone is going to be even more dangerous." Link glanced over his shoulder at the sword, just for a moment. "Fi, the spirit of the sword, says it's a volcano, a place where molten rock comes out from underground, and there'll be toxic gases and extreme heat. Is there anything you can think of that would help?"

After a moment of surprise and uncertainty, Eagus frowned. "I'll see what I can turn up. Might be able to get something for the heat from Gondo, or at least wherever he buys his supplies…"

"Thank you very much," Link said quietly. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Well, lad, that's why we have a chain of command." He smiled, brief but sincere. "Honestly, I don't like that this falls to a student, but with poor Zelda still out there alone there's no time to lose, never mind the years it would take to finish your training. So make sure to come to me if you need anything."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

"Fly well, Link."

Link bowed quickly and turned away, heading through to the back room. Full of racks of practice swords, shields, and armour, it smelt of polish and oil and metal and leather, and it was, as usual, empty. Relatively few students actually liked cleaning and maintaining the gear they used. Right now, however, the idea seemed almost soothing. Dropping the chainmail into a bucket of sand to deal with later, he automatically picked up a couple of rags, a scrap of harness soap, a whetstone, and one of the half-empty bottles of oil before letting himself out of the back door into the tiny scrap of heavily-fenced land between the training hall and the edge of the island.

Perched on one of the low benches, belt and baldric in a pile beside him, Link drew the shining sword from its scabbard, examining it minutely. There were no scratches or nicks on the blade; no rust; no sign of dirt, not even traces in the angles where hilt met blade, nor yet on the wrapping of the hilt itself. It seemed perfect, spotless.

All the same, he hadn't been able to forget the feeling of utter revulsion he'd felt during the moments Ghirahim had held the shining sword. There had been nothing to see upon it afterwards, and yet it had felt soiled, somehow. It couldn't hurt to try and clean it, surely, even if there was nothing to see.

Lightly dampening the first cloth, he began to gently wipe it along the blade, paying careful attention to the pattern of the engravings, into making sure he covered every last edge and dip. It felt almost soothing, working his way slowly and methodically along the blade, turning it over to clean the other side. There was something almost relaxing, almost reassuring to it, losing track of time carefully working in the Skyloft wind and sun, eradicating any possible trace of the dangers he had fought and survived, of Ghirahim's foul touch.

Link turned his attention to the hilt, working even slower as he traced every groove of its carving carefully, from guard to pommel; around the blue gems set either side of the blade. Only when he was content that was done did he change his grip, balancing the sword cautiously across his knees and holding the guard – not the blade, not when it was so peerlessly sharp it had gone through the wood of his shield like so much butter – as he worked a small amount of soap into the hilt's pristine wrapping with a care that would have washed away even the tiniest, most microscopic of dirt particles.

He scrutinised the edges keenly before passing over the whetstone, seeming as likely to blunt the blade, and picked up the second rag instead, tipping a little oil onto it and beginning to slowly, smoothly work it along the blade. Any trace of water on the metal had long since vanished in the cool wind and warm sunlight, and the oiled cloth ran smoothly along it, leaving behind almost no visible trace of its passage.

Fi had briefly considered informing her wielder that cleaning the sword was not necessary, but she had determined that the information itself was not particularly necessary. The procedure was entirely harmless, and it appeared to produce positive feelings in him, as well as reinforcing behaviours conducive to his future survival. Furthermore, with prolonged exposure, she was able to conclude that in some manner it had had a beneficial side-effect: it seemed to have significantly lessened the intensity with which the memory of being held by Ghirahim, in direct violation of her purpose, had been saved. Since Fi did not possess the capacity to directly control her memories once she had stored them, she decided that this effect was a notable benefit, although the question of precisely why and how it had occurred remained.

It seemed a shame to Link, as he sat in the early afternoon light, to resheathe the sword immediately – even if the scabbard itself hadn't still needed cleaning. Cleaned, oiled, and perfect, he let the Goddess Sword rest across his knees for a little while longer, leaning back against the stone wall behind him. He would have to wait for the Knight Commander to get him a new shield, and whatever else he could find, before they could leave Skyloft again, and he and Fi, with luck and the grace of the goddess, could finally catch up to Zelda.


Well hey, we're back here! From now on, Reforged will be my primary focus! And the Wii will be getting more use again as I go back to researching every event in order…

I didn't intend the accidentally funny bit, but there you go, sometimes things just happen… like Link asking perfectly sensible questions at a moment that would have been fine if Fi were anyone else.

Patch Notes

- Pipit now hides his problems when giving dubious life advice about hiding your problems.
- Knight Academy functionality improved: holds lessons for its students.
- Healing potions no longer fix damage to fabric.
- Dirt propagation improved; bathing now valid action.
- Characters occasionally change clothes.
- Shield availability variation with time given in-character reasons.
- Link no longer required to fund his own survival while on important quest; commander who wishes there was more he could do permitted to do more.