Late the next morning, Piccolo woke. As natural for him, he immediately
tried to get to his feet; however, his body refused to move. Suddenly, he
became aware of a painful heat making his body extremely weak. For a moment
he wondered if Ganondorf had moved him to a warmer room, a much warmer one.
So weak Piccolo was that he could barely lift his head to glance around the
room. His stomach was writhing, his brain throbbing due to the heat. Above
him, the sky remained a deadly, supernatural abyss. He glanced at the fire
and found it had died during his sleep. Why was he so hot?
"Hot," he choked.
No one was in the room to hear him.
Piccolo's weak body tensed stiffly and after a spasm he found himself sprawled on the steps, heaving up everything he had inside onto the cold, stone floor. Trembling, he moved out of his mess and began fumbling with his gi, desperately trying to remove it and die on the freezing stone. As he strained with his stubborn clothes a pool of blood formed in the back of his throat, gurgling as he tried to breath. It erupted from his mouth like lava and he fell backwards, cracking his head on the hard floor. Blood tricked down his skull as he clawed at the sheets, trying to pull himself back onto the mattress.
Never before has Piccolo been sick. He had no idea that what he had was a human illness, and he had never thought that a Namek might be able to catch one, especially not one this horrible.
Piccolo feared he would die, and no one would come to help him. Last night he had told Ganondorf never to come in during the night or early in the morning again. While he couldn't tell the time due to the black magic above him, blocking out sunlight, his internal clock told him it must be about five in the morning his time. He had no idea what was early and what was late in this strange world, but he figured Ganondorf wouldn't come in for another few hours. That was much too long, Piccolo didn't think he had that much life left.
Piccolo collapsed, exhausted and hopeless, onto the floor. For the first time in his life he felt he could compare himself to a discarded doll- limp, alone, fragile and unusually weak.
Then everything seemed to be over- perhaps he had died. His body, though still weaker than when Piccolo had hatched, was relaxed and free from its contractions. He managed enough strength to pull himself to his feet. A puzzled expression spread across his bloody, sweaty face.
Should he tell Ganondorf, at least to have his room cleaned? No, it seemed rude and disgusting to Piccolo. If he had been in this prison longer he might have known where he could find something to clean his mess up. Piccolo wiped the last bit of blood from his sallow face. He chewed the inside of his lip and the disgusting flavor of vomit burst into his sore mouth. Wincing, he decided to wait until Ganondorf came in. Slowly, he sat on the mattress.
The eye of the storm had passed. Even before Piccolo could be fully seated he found himself on hands and knees, suffocating on a fresh pool of blood. Sweltering heat conquered his body and he began having intense convulsions more frequently.
When the door to his prison chamber creaked open he looked up hopefully. One of the strong, dark women stood with a cup, probably full of Gerudo Tea. Immediately she understood what was happening without a word spoken. She was gone before Piccolo could reach out for her help, the cup crashed to the floor. Piccolo, helpless again, fell to the floor.
Piccolo had never been weak or ill. These were entirely new sensations and they stressed him. As he worried about looking helpless in front of others he worried about dying without help, the stress made his condition worse until he felt he was going to implode.
At least half of an hour passed before the Gerudo woman returned. She ran to Piccolo's side and placed a wet rag over his forehead. The water was cool, but not cold.
"Colder," Piccolo demanded.
She shook her head fiercely and continued wringing the water down his face. Piccolo pulled away and glared at her.
"I sent someone out to look for Ganondorf. I know what is wrong. You got too cold. And now you are sick. Dangerous sick. Because you are cold. We have to make the fever break," the Gerudo told him.
Piccolo almost lost consciousness. The woman caught him, he had toppled backwards, and continued caring for him. He allowed it only because he was too weak to pull away again. A shadow formed across the floor. It was large and monstrous.
Lifting his head, Piccolo moaned and looked pleadingly at Ganondorf, who paid him no attention. The giant man was surrounded by dozens of the Gerudo women, all offering him bandages and ointments. A huge gash spewed blood from a break in his armor. Ganondorf pushed them all away.
"Leave me alone! Now! I want no help!" His voice was threatening and vicious. The women cowered against the walls and he roared, "I WILL DESTORY THAT WRETCHED PRINCESS! HOW DARE SHE WOUND ME! SHE WILL PAY!"
The women nodded nervously in agreement, but he didn't notice them either, he was glaring at the blood on his arm hatefully.
"You're captive, Master-"
Ganondorf interrupted her with a wave of his hand and his eyes, full of rage and hatred, met Piccolo's. The eyes of the Namek practically reached out to the Gerudo, begging him to come nearer. At the peak of rage, Ganondorf could have cared less.
"You call me home for this? I thought it was serious! How dare you!"
The women were frightened, but the one tending to Piccolo replied cautiously, "My Lord, he could die. His body isn't used to illnesses from Hyrule. He isn't immune to them like we are. And your cold castle is making it worse."
"This is no reason to call me home. He is prisoner. I do not care of his well being. You know I was busy dealing with that damned princess. You're lucky I caught her at last or every single one of you would be dead. As for you," he glared at Piccolo, "I would set you on my dinner table and dine as I watch you die slowly."
Piccolo closed his eyes to avoid seeing Ganondorf's odious eyes.
"All of you! Now! Leave! I'll deal with my prisoner myself."
The women rushed out and Ganondorf came closer towards Piccolo. The Namek took a deep breath. If he had been healthy he would have jumped to his feet and knocked Ganondorf's head off for even suggesting the entertainment choice if he had lost the princess. Now, all Piccolo could do was hope Ganondorf had been joking.
"Hot," he choked.
No one was in the room to hear him.
Piccolo's weak body tensed stiffly and after a spasm he found himself sprawled on the steps, heaving up everything he had inside onto the cold, stone floor. Trembling, he moved out of his mess and began fumbling with his gi, desperately trying to remove it and die on the freezing stone. As he strained with his stubborn clothes a pool of blood formed in the back of his throat, gurgling as he tried to breath. It erupted from his mouth like lava and he fell backwards, cracking his head on the hard floor. Blood tricked down his skull as he clawed at the sheets, trying to pull himself back onto the mattress.
Never before has Piccolo been sick. He had no idea that what he had was a human illness, and he had never thought that a Namek might be able to catch one, especially not one this horrible.
Piccolo feared he would die, and no one would come to help him. Last night he had told Ganondorf never to come in during the night or early in the morning again. While he couldn't tell the time due to the black magic above him, blocking out sunlight, his internal clock told him it must be about five in the morning his time. He had no idea what was early and what was late in this strange world, but he figured Ganondorf wouldn't come in for another few hours. That was much too long, Piccolo didn't think he had that much life left.
Piccolo collapsed, exhausted and hopeless, onto the floor. For the first time in his life he felt he could compare himself to a discarded doll- limp, alone, fragile and unusually weak.
Then everything seemed to be over- perhaps he had died. His body, though still weaker than when Piccolo had hatched, was relaxed and free from its contractions. He managed enough strength to pull himself to his feet. A puzzled expression spread across his bloody, sweaty face.
Should he tell Ganondorf, at least to have his room cleaned? No, it seemed rude and disgusting to Piccolo. If he had been in this prison longer he might have known where he could find something to clean his mess up. Piccolo wiped the last bit of blood from his sallow face. He chewed the inside of his lip and the disgusting flavor of vomit burst into his sore mouth. Wincing, he decided to wait until Ganondorf came in. Slowly, he sat on the mattress.
The eye of the storm had passed. Even before Piccolo could be fully seated he found himself on hands and knees, suffocating on a fresh pool of blood. Sweltering heat conquered his body and he began having intense convulsions more frequently.
When the door to his prison chamber creaked open he looked up hopefully. One of the strong, dark women stood with a cup, probably full of Gerudo Tea. Immediately she understood what was happening without a word spoken. She was gone before Piccolo could reach out for her help, the cup crashed to the floor. Piccolo, helpless again, fell to the floor.
Piccolo had never been weak or ill. These were entirely new sensations and they stressed him. As he worried about looking helpless in front of others he worried about dying without help, the stress made his condition worse until he felt he was going to implode.
At least half of an hour passed before the Gerudo woman returned. She ran to Piccolo's side and placed a wet rag over his forehead. The water was cool, but not cold.
"Colder," Piccolo demanded.
She shook her head fiercely and continued wringing the water down his face. Piccolo pulled away and glared at her.
"I sent someone out to look for Ganondorf. I know what is wrong. You got too cold. And now you are sick. Dangerous sick. Because you are cold. We have to make the fever break," the Gerudo told him.
Piccolo almost lost consciousness. The woman caught him, he had toppled backwards, and continued caring for him. He allowed it only because he was too weak to pull away again. A shadow formed across the floor. It was large and monstrous.
Lifting his head, Piccolo moaned and looked pleadingly at Ganondorf, who paid him no attention. The giant man was surrounded by dozens of the Gerudo women, all offering him bandages and ointments. A huge gash spewed blood from a break in his armor. Ganondorf pushed them all away.
"Leave me alone! Now! I want no help!" His voice was threatening and vicious. The women cowered against the walls and he roared, "I WILL DESTORY THAT WRETCHED PRINCESS! HOW DARE SHE WOUND ME! SHE WILL PAY!"
The women nodded nervously in agreement, but he didn't notice them either, he was glaring at the blood on his arm hatefully.
"You're captive, Master-"
Ganondorf interrupted her with a wave of his hand and his eyes, full of rage and hatred, met Piccolo's. The eyes of the Namek practically reached out to the Gerudo, begging him to come nearer. At the peak of rage, Ganondorf could have cared less.
"You call me home for this? I thought it was serious! How dare you!"
The women were frightened, but the one tending to Piccolo replied cautiously, "My Lord, he could die. His body isn't used to illnesses from Hyrule. He isn't immune to them like we are. And your cold castle is making it worse."
"This is no reason to call me home. He is prisoner. I do not care of his well being. You know I was busy dealing with that damned princess. You're lucky I caught her at last or every single one of you would be dead. As for you," he glared at Piccolo, "I would set you on my dinner table and dine as I watch you die slowly."
Piccolo closed his eyes to avoid seeing Ganondorf's odious eyes.
"All of you! Now! Leave! I'll deal with my prisoner myself."
The women rushed out and Ganondorf came closer towards Piccolo. The Namek took a deep breath. If he had been healthy he would have jumped to his feet and knocked Ganondorf's head off for even suggesting the entertainment choice if he had lost the princess. Now, all Piccolo could do was hope Ganondorf had been joking.