A note from the Hime no Argh herself–
Bah, sorry about the stupidly long delay in posting a new chapter. Just when I was ready to post again Fanfiction.net decides that I can't upload things for whatever reason. Well, at least the problem's now been resolved.
Anyway, here is the second chapter. Thanks very much for all the enthusiastic response the first chapter got, I'm so glad people like this story. I'll do my best not to disappoint. ^^ Thanks for reading!
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Chapter 2
Zelda
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages! Welcome, one and all, to the greatest spectacle Kakariko has ever seen–the Masked Players, Hyrule's finest traveling entertainment troupe!"
The audience applauded at Cleo's introduction, some with more enthusiasm than others. The market square in the town of Kakariko was particularly crowded today, the dry, dusty street packed with bartering stands beneath brightly colored banners and flags as people milled back and forth, some inspecting the wares that the barterers and bazaars had to offer, others still joining the crowd grouped about the clock in the middle of the square, beside which the Masked Players had set their stage. The shouts of the barterers, haggling of patrons, and shrieks and laughs of children filled the square, above which Cleo's magnificent stage voice rose.
"Gather 'round, one and all, for a show you'll not soon forget!" the woman cried, majestic in a scarlet-and-gold silk wrap, a smiling golden mask concealing her face. "Great entertainment at the best price in Hyrule–free!"
Of course, the show wasn't free for all, Zelda thought with a smirk as she waited backstage, but these townspeople didn't need to know that. Their small stage folded out from a wooden wagon covered in canvases of bright red, green, violet, yellow, and blue. The wagon itself was painted on the outside in a pattern of red, white, and black, with the words "Masked Players" carved in jaunty letters in the its side. Inside the large wagon was enough room for Zelda, her second Impa, Bolo, Marek, Dagger, and Oberon. Parcleus and Rune were in the midst of the crowd, hands in every pocket and purse they could find.
"A bout of stage combat!" Cleo crowed outside, met with much applause. Zelda knew the crowd must be large enough now for the show and nodded toward Oberon and Impa. Both slid masks over their faces, took up a pair of stage swords, and took their places behind the curtain as Zelda, Bolo, Marek, and Dagger slid back out of the audience's view.
"Preeeeeesenting...Impa and Oberon!" Cleo cried as the curtain flew back. Impa and Oberon marched out onto the stage, to the wild applause of the watching crowd.
"It's busy today," Zelda said happily as the curtain slid back into place. A moment later the clashing of swords sounded outside. "We're going to have a huge loot."
"Can we stay here for a while and raid, too?" Dagger begged, her face shining with excitement. She was short and compact, a year older than Zelda at eighteen, with frizzy black hair and wide brown eyes. "There are so many lovely houses around. I bet they have loads of riches!"
"We'll stay here as long as the pickings are good and we don't get caught," Zelda cautioned.
"We're the Best Damn Thieves Around," Marek said lazily, reclining on a crate. He was in his mid-twenties, tall and gangling with reddish-brown hair and lots of freckles. "We don't get caught."
"Shut up, you'll jinx us," Zelda retorted, then looked at Bolo. At fourteen, the blond-haired, green-eyed youth was the youngest of their troupe, and it was his first show in front of an audience. He looked positively green.
"Feeling okay, Bolo?" Zelda said kindly. The youth nodded, swallowing hard. "Just remember, don't move an inch," Zelda reminded him. "Don't even twitch. I swear I won't hit you."
Bolo nodded again and went back to looking sick. It was just nerves about performing in front of an audience, Zelda decided. They'd practiced long enough for Bolo to realize she wouldn't put an arrow through him.
The clanging of the swords outside had stopped. "And the winner is...Impa!" Cleo announced to wild cheers. No one inside the wagon was surprised; Impa always won the sword routine.
Impa and Oberon pushed their way back inside, both sweating. Impa removed her mask and pushed back her sweat-matted hair as Oberon, a tall, well-muscled teenager flung himself onto a crate, running his hands through his tousled brown hair. "They're ready for you," he informed Dagger and Marek, panting.
Dagger and Marek jumped to their feet, securing masks over their faces, and took their place.
"Here's a real treat–the most talented acrobats in the world!" Cleo announced. "Their stunts will astound you! Their bravery is unmatched! Their skill is like nothing the world has ever seen!"
"She's making me blush," Dagger said breathlessly.
"Preeeeeesenting...Dagger and Marek!"
Dagger and Marek darted through the curtains.
Zelda offered Impa the water flask. The woman gulped half of its contents and passed it to Oberon, then sunk onto a crate next to Zelda. "It's hot today," she murmured.
"I know," Zelda replied, scrutinizing her second. Impa was silver-haired, with shocking eyes of a blood red, her face stern, her body tall, lean, and well-muscled. She came from a mysterious race of people called Sheikah, who had centuries ago disappeared from Hyrule. "You'd better stay inside," she worried. Impa looked to be about in her mid-thirties, but there was no telling for sure. In any case, she was certainly the oldest of their troupe. "We won't do any more shows today."
Impa waved her off. "I'm fine."
"If you say so," Zelda said doubtfully.
More applause met the end of Dagger and Marek's routine. The two tumblers came back inside the wagon, flushed and beaming. "I love a good show," Dagger said enthusiastically, hugging Marek around the shoulders.
"Ready, Bolo?" Zelda asked, standing with her mask in one hand and a longbow and quiver of arrows in the other. Bolo nodded without speaking. Oberon and Marek slipped out the curtains as they waited, carrying between them a large rectangular board on which a target was painted.
"The archer's target!" Cleo proclaimed as the two men set up the target on the stage. "But she won't be shooting at this piece of wood, here, oh no. I give you the archer's true target! Preeeeeesenting...Bolo!"
Bolo swallowed hard as the curtain drew open and walked out onto the stage, mask in place. Zelda waited until the curtain was closed once more, then slid her own mask over her face and got into position.
"And now, the Masked Players' best show!" Cleo cried. "The stage is set for a most dangerous sport–archery with a human target! Will the archer make her shot? Will our young friend walk away unscathed?"
Impa put an apple in Zelda's free hand.
"I give you the head of our troupe, the archer herself...preeeeeesenting...Zelda!"
The curtains flung back and Zelda walked out onto the stage to wild cheering and applause. The crowd that had gathered by now to watch was enormous, packing every corner of the market square. Even the barterers had ceased their haggling to watch the show.
Bolo was in his place, back against the wooden board, arms and legs spread in an X shape. Zelda walked to him and placed the apple on his head. "Not a twitch, Bolo," she whispered, then walked to the other side of the stage.
"I ask now for silence," Cleo entreated the audience. She stood just to Zelda's left on a corner of the stage. "The archer must concentrate."
Obediently the audience fell silent. There was not a sound to be heard but the flapping of banners in the wind.
Zelda set the quiver of arrows at her feet and drew a string from the pocket of her breeches. She strung the bow with deft, practiced hands, then drew an arrow from the quiver and set it to nock. She raised the bow so that the arrow was level with her shoulders and took aim at Bolo. Bolo's expressionless mask stared back at her.
Zelda drew the bowstring to her ear and released with a soft thwap. The arrow streaked through the air and embedded itself into the wood of the target just between Bolo's legs.
"Ooh!" gasped the watching crowd.
Zelda took two arrows from the quiver and set them both to nock on the string. She raised the bow again, now holding it horizontally, and took aim. She drew the string back and released. The two arrows thudded into the wood on either side of Bolo's torso.
The audience was still quiet, the wind whispering over the tense, watching crowd. Zelda fired eight arrows in rapid succession, lining Bolo's arms with four arrows each. The boy did not even flinch.
There was now one arrow left in the quiver. The audience seem to sense that this was the moment they'd waiting for, and tension spread through the crowd like wildfire. Zelda saw hands press to mouths, eyes widen as they flickered between her and Bolo. She drew the arrow, set it to nock, and took aim. To the audience it appeared she was aiming directly at Bolo's head–instead, she aimed for the apple.
At that moment, something—she was never sure what—made Zelda turn her head and looked out into the audience. Her gaze met the sky blue eyes of a young man seated on a horse in the back of the crowd, dressed all in green, watching her intently.
Zelda stared at him, abruptly struck by a sense of recognition. Who…?
Then just as abruptly her senses returned to her, and she faced Bolo once again. Concentrate, she ordered herself, drawing the string back to her ear. She made herself think of the apple, and only the apple, focusing her vision on that one small object.
The watching crowd seemed to draw in one collective breath. Zelda released the string. The arrow sang as it flew to plunge directly into the apple, splitting it down the middle. The two pieces fell to the stage.
The audience erupted into wild cheers, applause rising like thunder. Bolo carefully disengaged himself from the target to meet Zelda at center stage. They both drew off their masks to find themselves wearing the same happy, relieved grin.
"Presenting the Masked Players!" Cleo cried as the curtain flew open once more. "Impa and Oberon! Dagger and Marek!" The four players jogged out onto the stage to take their places beside Bolo and Zelda, masks discarded. "Bolo the human target, aaaaaaaand...Zelda!"
The players bowed to the cheering crowd. Cleo curtsied, and the seven retreated back into the cart. Just before the curtain fell, Zelda looked again for the blue-eyed young man. He was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
Link could hardly believe his luck. Not only had he made it to Kakariko on a bright, sunny afternoon, but he had run directly into a girl named Zelda—in an entertainment troupe.
Maybe she's not that Zelda? Link wondered, but it was an uncommon name, and the whole thing seemed a little too coincidental. "I can't believe I'm saying this," Link told Demon wryly as the horse drank from a trough in the market square, "but maybe there really is something to this destiny stuff."
He kept his distance from the players as they packed up their wagon, hiding in an alleyway between shops so they wouldn't see him staring. The troupe head, Zelda, was in the midst of it all, directing the players, stowing away props, helping to fold back the stage into their enormous, painted wagon. He could see that she was young, around his age, slim and shapely, dressed in a full-sleeved white cotton shirt and navy blue breeches. Hair of the palest gold tumbled down her back, and even at a distance he could see her eyes, the dark blue of the sky at midnight, stark and wide in her pale face.
Not the prettiest girl around, Link decided, but nice enough. She'd do better in a dress.
Once their wagon was packed and chained to the clock post in the center of the square, the players gathered. "We're leaving first thing tomorrow, so use your time wisely," Zelda ordered. "Bring what you find to the wagon after midnight. We can't risk being seen, especially by the blue-shirts, or we won't be able to come back here."
With a chorus of "yes ma'ams" and goodbyes, the players dispersed in twos and threes, heading in different directions. Link watched them go, frowning. Something about Zelda's comments struck him as odd. And what exactly was a "blue shirt"?
Zelda remained in the square for a few minutes, conferring with a tall, silver-haired, stern-looking woman. Then the two split apart, the tall woman back to their wagon and Zelda to an inn on the other side of the square.
Link sighed, tugging Demon toward the stable beside the inn. "Guess we're staying here tonight. Following people sure is a pain, isn't it?" The gelding whickered softly and Link patted his neck. "Well, we'll just stick around for tonight and see what happens. I hope that forest girl isn't putting me on a wild goose chase."
He paid the fee to house Demon for the night out of his pathetically low store of Rupees, then headed inside the inn. The ground floor was a large tavern packed with townspeople and visitors from all corners of Hyrule—Hylians, Gerudo, Zora, and Gorons alike. The noise that filled the tavern was deafening—glasses clanging, friends laughing as they shared drinks, the slurred shouts of drunkards and gamblers. Amidst the crowd and the din Link spotted Zelda sitting at the bar with a glass of water in front of her.
"Now what, forest girl?" he muttered. There was no reply. Sighing with impatience, Link trudged across the tavern, elbowing his way through the crowd, and took a seat beside the troupe head.
"Are you Zelda Harkinian?" he asked bluntly.
The girl jumped slightly, obviously caught by surprise, and turned her gaze to him. For a moment Link stared at her, dazzled by her eyes. They were the most extraordinary shade of blue he'd ever seen, so dark they were nearly black, large and wide and framed by a set of full, dark lashes. Link suddenly realized she was much more beautiful than he'd first perceived.
Then her eyes narrowed sharply, and the countenance of beauty and grace disappeared. "Who wants to know?" she demanded.
This was going to take a bit of explaining. "Ah…someone told me you'd be here," Link said vaguely, not wanting to get into detail. "I just wanted—"
"Are you a blue-shirt?" Zelda interrupted, staring at him suspiciously.
He blinked in response. "A what?"
The girl stared at him for a moment longer, then shook her head. "Never mind. You're not a blue-shirt, just a dolt."
"Thanks," Link said dryly. "I saw your show, by the way. That was pretty impressive. What trick did you use?"
Zelda shot him a dirty look. "Trick? There was no trick. That was a real bow I was using, and real arrows."
Link raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You've very good," he told her honestly.
"Thank you." Zelda regarded Link for a moment in silence. "Hey, I know you!" she said suddenly. "You're that guy I saw at the show! You caught my attention when I was about to shoot the apple." She smiled flirtatiously. "My eyes were drawn to you."
Before Link could respond, the inn's door flew open with a loud bang and three men dressed in navy blue shirts, black trousers, and plate mail came marching in. Zelda took one look at them and quickly turned away, her face going stark white.
"Where is Zelda Harkinian?" one of the men demanded in a loud, authoritative voice.
"Blue-shirts?" Link whispered to Zelda.
"The law," she whispered back, nodding.
That explained something. Link glanced back to see the blue-shirts elbowing through the crowd, eyes casting about for their quarry. Zelda slid slowly off her stool and onto the ground, crawling off through the maze of table legs and feet. Link hesitated, then followed.
"Speak up!" ordered the man who had spoken before. "Where are Zelda Harkinian and the Best Damn Thieves Around?"
Link's eyebrows shot up. "The Best Damn Thieves Around?" he whispered to Zelda in disbelief.
"It's a good name!" Zelda hissed. "Because we are."
"I'm not going to say it again–" One of the blue-shirts suddenly made the mistake of rudely shoving past a reeling drunk. The drunkard roared and charged him, knocking him to the floor. The other blue-shirts rushed to the aid of their comrade, but a large man grabbed them both by the shoulders and threw them into a table. Pandemonium and chaos broke loose.
"Ow!" Zelda hollered as someone stepped on her fingers. "Trust the drunk of Kakariko to start a barfight!"
More men entered the fray, sending tables and chairs toppling over and glasses and tankards flying. Link seized Zelda around the waist and hauled her behind the safety of the bar.
"We have to get out of here!" he yelled over the din of shouting men and shattering glass.
"We?" Zelda snapped back. "Just who are you, anyway?"
"My name is Link! I'm supposed to be protecting you!"
"I can protect myself! And what the hell kind of name is Link, anyway?"
"What the hell kind of name is the Best Damn Thieves Around?!"
A glass flew over the counter and shattered against the wall above them. Link threw himself over Zelda, protecting her with his body as glass shards rained down on them. "We're getting out of here," he said grimly as he straightened, clamping a hand around Zelda's wrist. "We'll make a run for the door, okay?"
"Okay," Zelda said, her face pale and determined.
"On three. One–"
"Three!" Zelda darted out from behind the bar, dragging Link along with surprising strength. Link grabbed a pewter mug off a table as they ran and banged a drunkard who tried to attack them around the head. They squeezed through a press of bodies and leapt at the door–only to find it block by an upturned table.
"Damn!" Zelda snapped, but Link shoved her off to the side.
"Stand back," he warned, drawing his sword. Two quick slashes made short work of not only the table, but the door as well. Link kicked aside a few splintered chunks of wood, grabbed Zelda's hand, and ran.
They didn't stop running until they'd reached the now-deserted market square. Night had fallen and the moon rose full in a star-filled sky. Zelda turned to Link, flushed and breathless, and threw her arms around his neck.
"That was amazing! The way you cut through the door–like a knife slicing butter–and hitting the guy with the mug! Wow!"
"I'm not sure that's something to be proud of," Link admitted. He couldn't help thinking–with her arms around him, her smiling mouth scant inches from his, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with excitement–she was indeed beautiful.
"I am!" she said, laughing and hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. "That was the most fun I've had in ages!"
"I'm glad," Link said, a bit choked, "but–Zelda–"
"Oh!" She let go of his neck and backed away with her hands behind her back, still laughing. "Sorry, sorry. Well, thank you for helping me back there! Hope to see you around!"
"Uh," Link said as she backed into the shadows of an alleyway. "Hey–wait–"
She was gone.
For a moment he intended to run after her, then suddenly stopped and scolded himself. Just what in Din's name was he doing, anyway? Running around after a girl he'd just met was not his business, even if Saria the forest spirit had told him to. Besides, Link thought dismissively, she can take care of herself. But he wondered.
Link headed back toward the inn with half a mind to fetch Demon from the stable and get out of there, when a sudden lightness on his back made him stop in his tracks. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Link abruptly understood.
His sword, sheath and all, was gone.
"That sneaky, conniving..." Link growled, "that little brat...most fun she's had, indeed!"
Without another moment of hesitation he turned and darted toward the alleyway into which Zelda had disappeared, intending to make the thief pay.
* * *
To be continued.