Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's
mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought
up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to
write about them.
Chapter 6
So far in the past three days, I've been tied up at least three or four times, kicked, punched, and knocked unconscious how many times? Unfortunately for me, my coma lasts all of about five seconds this time. I am then introduced to a sharp wave up pain shooting up and down my spine, and if I had the resolve to do so, I would bang my head on the ground until I am unconscious. However, all I can think of is the immense throbbing of every muscle, tendon, and bone in my body. I can hear nothing, with the exception of a few muted screams coming from the two girls rushing to my side. I can't move for fear that the pain will get worse. I hate pain. Really, I do. This has got to be the dumbest idea I have ever come up with.
After a moment of blindingly, deafeningly, and otherwise sense-numbing anguish, some of my senses return, though in miniscule doses. I can feel the cold stone beneath me, which gradually becomes quite warm for one of two reasons. If I'm lucky, it's my body heat warming the ground, but I highly doubt that. I can also hear the girls' hysterical screaming, which eventually muffles down to encouraging words like "You'll be ok," and "We'll help you." Thank Nayru; I was beginning to think they were just going to stand there and scream at me all day.
Now that most of the pain is numbing—along with the feeling in my torso and legs—I can feel something in my side that doesn't quite belong there. I grunt through clenched teeth as I attempt to lift my head up a bit, just to find a leg of the chair rammed through my ribcage. Eyes wide, I try to speak, and 'ouch' isn't the first word that comes to mind.
"Holy shit!" does, however, make it's way out shakily before anything intelligent can. I stare in horror at the jagged, blood-stained rod making it's way through my tunic, which is probably in rags by now. I can never seem to keep these things in good shape for very long.
One of the girls keeps pushing my hands away from the wound as the other fishes through a basket for a long, white sheet. She runs to my side and flattens it next to me, and I realize that she may intend to use it as some primitive stretcher. I think not.
"If you wiggle any harder, you'll break something else! Please stop!" the younger girl pleads. She's kind of cute, no more than thirteen, with wavy strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The other, probably an older sister around seventeen or eighteen, rushes to my head. Her long black hair and green eyes set her apart from the younger girl almost entirely, but their other facial features are nearly identical.
"Hold still! We'll have to carry you back to the house."
"Can't I just walk?" I screech, though I doubt I'm in any condition to walk. I just want to lay here for now, but that doesn't seem to be one of my choices.
"Come on, now. We are going to take you home to mend you," the older girl pleads, but I am not going anywhere. I never intended to stay conscious after a fall like that, but lucky me is still awake and very much in pain. "Otherwise that wound is going to get worse." Oh, yeah? I'll show you worse. Though it feels as though I am tearing a bone from my body, I grip the splintered wood closest to my chest and rip it away from my body, screaming out every single curse word I can think of within a three-second time frame. I am either totally out of my mind or I'm a genius, considering the state I'm in. At the moment, I think I'm completely insane, though I have had the presence of mind to speak clearly, use deductive reasoning, and make an argument.
The girls squeal at my actions, though I'm actually quite calm. Strangely, all of the pain subsided as soon as I tore the fractured chair leg from the right side of my chest. I push myself up with very little trouble, though my back is in some pretty serious pain. Still, I've felt much worse. The younger girl is now hiding behind the eldest girl, whose mouth is gaping and eyes are shot wide. Now I'm beginning to freak out at the idea that perhaps I have lost all feeling in my body. I tap at the wound with my fist, and though I feel no pain, I can still feel the pressure from my hand. I don't understand; I am still covered in my own blood, yet I feel fine. I feel something cold land on my shoulder that scares the daylights out of me until I whip my head around to find the older girl's shivering hand grasping my arm. I let out a sigh of relief and nod.
"I'm ok."
"Are you sure? Maybe I should take a look, just to be safe." Her eyes are filled with concern. Sorry to be the cause of her worry, I nod and lean back on my arms a bit. At first she's too cautious, as if I'm going to lash out and attack her or something.
"Don't worry," I say, my sudden words startling her a bit. I smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. "I don't bite." She only looks at me and forces a pitiful smile, then edges closer to get a better look. She gently moves scraps of what used to be my new tunic aside to get a good view.
"How," she mutters without taking her eyes from my chest. Finally, after a good two or three minutes, she looks up at me. "There's no wound, no scar, nothing." I raise an eyebrow and sit up to look for myself. It took her three minutes to look at nothing but my bare chest? Well, I must say I am flattered, but it's not like I'm gonna get the reward now. Damnit, I'm not even injured anymore, so how can they take care of me?
"Well, that's very interesting," I mumble, hoping to break the awkward silence. The girls look at each other and begin to whisper between themselves. I edge closer to them to eavesdrop.
"Well, he is awfully skinny."
"Maybe we should take him in, anyway."
"We don't know who he is. What if he's a bad person?"
"He's not. He's my age, he can't be bad."
"Not necessarily. Don't you know—" The older girl stops in mid-sentence when she notices me hovering a bit, my goofy, I've-just-been-caught grin in place.
"Sorry!" I say rather loudly through my cheesy smile. They glance at each other with expressions that tell me they're not amused.
"Uh, are you, uh—" the older girl stutters. Finally the younger girl chimes in.
"My sister means are you hungry?" She has a large smile on her face, but it fades to a smirk after she is elbowed in the arm.
"Quiet," she whispers harshly.
"Am I ever!" I shout, jumping to my feet. It seems I'm completely healed, though I know not how. At this point I don't really care. I swipe up the sheet that had been laid out next to me and help them carry the baskets from the street to their house, which is less than a block away. The younger girl stares at me with amazement the entire way, while the older one walks a good five feet ahead.
"Why did you jump out of that window?" the young girl asks me. I stare blankly at my feet, not sure of what to tell her.
"Uh—"
"And why are you wearing such old clothes?"
"Old? They aren't that—"
"And how come you aren't bleeding anymore? And why—"
"That's enough, Delphie!" the older sister interjects as we round a corner. "Don't pester him" There's a bit of a silence until we come to the door of their home, which is rather tiny and situated just outside the main part of town in a nice little neighborhood. Reminds me a little of Kakariko Village, only a little more urbanized.
"So, Delphie is it? Sorry if I frightened you and your sister earlier. I'm just having a really bad day," I explain, fidgeting with the braces of my gauntlets. "I'm alright now, though." She smiles at me and gestures me through the now opened door. The house is pretty small, the typical one- room shack with a couple of beds, a nightstand between them, and a large round table with three chairs standing over a plush red and white rug in the center of the room. In place of an oven like the ones I'm used to, there's a tall fireplace-like structure with a rack for cooking and a short porcelain washbasin next to it. There's a pot boiling over on the oven rack, and the older girl rushes to it, quietly cursing to herself. As soon as she takes the lid from the cast-iron pot, I catch a whiff of something delicious. I can feel my mouth already watering at the scent, either because it smells extremely good or because I'm terribly hungry. Hopefully I will know soon.
I'm totally caught up in the smell of food when I feel something tug on my shirt. I turn to face Delphie, who has the sleeve of my tattered tunic in one hand and something in the other.
"Here's a clean tunic and shirt." I take it with a genuine smile.
"Why thank you." She runs to help her sister while I pull the old stuff off and put the new shirt and tunic on. The undershirt is a light green and feels a little cold after removing the bloodied white shirt from before. The tunic is dark brown and not quite my color, but it's clean and dry, two qualities I like in a tunic. It's just like my old green one from years ago, with laces up the front, sleeves, and bottom sides. It would really look cool if I had some kind of armor or mail to go under it.
As I adjust the tunic's fit, the older sister instructs Delphie to fetch three bowls and utensil sets, whatever that is. After setting three places, Delphie grabs my arm and ushers me to a seat at the table. The chair is a little darker than the other two, as if less worn. I don't think anyone ever sits here. I decide not to ask about it for a while, since everyone is busy and I feel as though I'm taking advantage of them without giving anything in return. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No. Just sit down. It will be ready in a minute," the older girl responds. Delphie responds to her sister's statement with a frown. As I sit down, she leans toward me and whispers in my ear.
"She isn't used to company." I nod both in understanding and agreement. Delphie then takes a seat to my right, leaving the other for her sister, who promptly slams a pot onto the middle of the table before spooning some out into each of the three bowls with a small, metal ladle. I'm kind of nervous now, unsure of my welcome. But I just can't pass up a free meal. The older sister takes her seat, picks up a tiny metal spoon and begins to scoop up a little soup at a time. I raise an eyebrow at this, since where I'm from everyone just picks up the bowl and sips away. I try to be proper, though, and attempt her custom. I get it right away, and soon I'm shoveling in as much as I can fit on the spoon. After a few minutes of bitter silence, which I really can't stand, I decide it's time to speak.
"I never did catch your name." She looks up, almost as if she's a bit startled, but quickly looks back down at her nearly empty bowl and closes her eyes.
"Ramala," she mutters.
"Well, I thank you very much, Ramala, for this wonderful meal and the exceptional hospitality you've shown me." Wow, I almost sounded smart just now. Her gaze rushes to meet mine, impressed with my sudden knowledge of the Hylian language. I guess it's hard for people to understand that, though I am stuck in a fourteen-year-old body, I have many more years of experience. Though it may have helped if I had actually taken the time to explain why, I would lose my mind if I had to tell everyone I met the entire story.
"Y-You're welcome," she says with a modest grin. I look down, trying to think of something else to say before it gets too quiet again.
"So, why do you have three chairs if there are only two of you?" That obviously was not the question to ask, since Ramala's expression turns to a frown before I even finish the sentence. Without saying a word, she grabs her bowl and takes it to the washbasin near the fireplace. I stare in utter confusion at Delphie, who takes her bowl away as well and kneels at the washbasin to clean it. Damnit, now I've done it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it," Ramala states sharply before walking out the door, slamming it behind her. Delphie is being rather silent, carefully setting her bowl into the porcelain washbasin and swirling the spoon in the water.
"What did I say?" I ask.
"Maybe I'll tell you someday, fairyboy." My face lights up in shock, and at my gasp she quickly turns her head to face me.
"Fairyboy?" I ask. How? How would she know that nickname? Only Malon used to call me that.
"My mother used to say that," she says with an innocent smile. "How do you know it?" I stare at the floor in sheer amazement and confusion.
"A-A friend of mine, a long time ago, used to call me that. She was the only one who—" I pause, remembering the girl, her fiery red hair, naïve gentleness, remarkable affability, annoying persistence, maddening talkativeness. She was a great friend, but Din did she get aggravating after a while. But that never kept me from protecting her, nor will it. To this day, I still pop in from time to time to check on her and Talon.
"Really?" Her smile grows to a full-toothed grin. She seems—happy—but why? How could this girl's mother know that? Unless she somehow knew Malon. Perhaps a distant cousin or aunt or something. "What's your name, anyway?" Her sudden question gives me a jump, and at this point I'm not sure whether I should tell them my name or not.
"Uh—" Before I can finish, Ramala dashes through the door, a look of horror on her face.
"Delphie, into the cellar, now!" Confusion fills the room, and a second urging from Ramala sends Delphie to her feet.
"What's going on?" I ask as Ramala begins to throw some clothing and food into a large leather bag.
"He's coming." Her voice is very shaky. Whoever she's talking about has got her scared to death.
"Who's coming?" I press as I stand up from the table. She's on her way to the door when she stops and turns to me, her eyes glaring in both fear and anger.
"You should leave town before you become involved." Involved? She leaves me with no answer and an abandoned house. I follow her to the door, which is left swinging on it's hinges and hits me in the back. It hurts a little, my back probably bruised a bit from my fall earlier, but I try to ignore it; my attention is diverted wholly on the commotion in the streets. My mouth hangs in surprise, for all I can see are people running around like cuccus with their heads cut off, screaming and running over each other to get to shelter or the city gates. I run toward the commotion—why I always react that way, I will never know. You'd think I would run away like everyone with a brain, but no—I must find out what is causing such a ruckus.
All the people seem to be running in a radius away from the fountain in the very center of town. I bump and push my way through the rushing crowd, which topples over me and gushes against me as if I'm trying to swim upstream against a raging current. I get knocked down at one point, and it is very difficult to regain my footing after that. I stumble closer and closer, a journey during which I get elbowed in the eye, and I grip at it like some infant. I think it somehow reopened the three-year-old scar that stretches over my eyebrow and slides past my right eye. I grip the wound so that it won't bleed in my face as I continue through the swarms. Finally I reach an opening, about twenty feet in radius around the fountain. The white marble fountain doesn't look much different, but as I turn my sight upward I notice the water turning a stark red. My gaze follows the streamlined carvings of the fountain until I reach the apex, atop which stands two figures—no, one is suspended in the air. A darker figure, arm extended to the other's throat, roars with a strange and familiar laughter.
"Hellpahrn!" I shout out, still covering my right eye with my hand. He stops laughing and stares in my direction, his cloak behind his shoulders and acting as a sort of cape fluttering behind him. He suddenly loses all interest in his captive, releasing them into the once clear waters of the fountain. The haunting echo of the splash is the only sound in the square now, and when the water stills, I notice that Hellpahrn is no longer atop the fountain. I open my eyes wide in the hopes to extend my line of sight, looking to my right and left. I remain still, my breathing hard and muscles ready. I'm afraid to blink so that I may miss the slightest movement. Nothing. Complete silence.
I take a step toward the fountain to get a better look at his victim, who's floating face-down in water that is now painted red. I don't go more than a couple feet before I am seized in a sort of stranglehold, a dagger at my throat and a large hand ripping at my scalp. This is all too familiar. If I had more time to think, I would say that since I've been in this place, my life has been rather cyclical.
"I've been looking for you, Link," he whispers in my ear with a raspy voice.
"You missed me that much, huh?" For some reason, my sarcasm only gets worse when I'm in trouble.
"You know, someday that mouth of yours may get you into trouble." Something catches his attention, and he turns his head to our left, where a short, scrawny little man is scuttling around a market booth, knocking a few pots over on his way. At this time, I'm not paying attention to the man, but to Hellpahrn. I've never been this close to him. He reeks of death, and a dark past looms over him in a sort of shadowy aura. I also take the time to notice a long scar from his collarbone down, ending somewhere behind his dark green shirt. His skin is cold and clammy, as if he's already dead. Wait a minute—why am I just standing here staring at him? I could have escaped twelve times by now. Let's see, what's the safest way to escape without getting my throat slit? I'm still covering the right side of my face with my hand, and he's holding the dagger in his left, which means my left is free for an attack. With every bit of energy I can muster, I burrow my elbow into his side. His arm quavers, and it gives me just enough time to slip beneath his grasp. He grabs at me with his right hand, but misses, and I make a run for it. Though, once I take full heed of the situation, I skid to a halt and turn to face him. He hasn't taken a step from the spot he was in before, and we both stand now, facing each other.
"You shouldn't put up such a fuss," he says in such a way a mother would speak to her child, strange as it may sound.
"Speak for yourself." His eyes glint.
"I am." Before I can think up a good comeback, or insult, he launches a triple attack of flaming orbs in my direction, which are each easily dodged. Unfortunately, as I am evading the third of the fireballs, he launches a fourth that hits me squarely in the chest, knocking me backwards and into a booth. A glassware booth. The booth, glasses, bowls, everything, including myself, all crash to the ground with a variety of deafening sounds. Remarkably, I am able to sit up with nothing more than a few scratches and perhaps bruises. I look down at my chest to find a bit of a charred circle on the front of my tunic. Damnit. Those girls just gave me this tunic and it's already got a huge stain on it.
I may not know anything about throwing magical orbs at my enemies, but I do know a few tricks. I think a moment, then suddenly remember something I had long forgotten. I grab an intact vase from the pile as I pull myself to my feet. I concentrate on the vase until I can no longer keep my grip on it, and as Hellpahrn raises his hand to release another slew of fireballs, I sling the vase at him. He raises his arms in front of him to block as it shatters directly in front of him, releasing a small shockwave that doesn't do much to injure him, though it does push him back a few feet. It kind of messes up his hair, too, which is now a little poofier than normal. I choke back a laugh, but eventually I just can't hold it in anymore.
"Hahaha! You should fire your barber!" I shout as I dodge the oncoming fireballs with ease. He looks stunned, but I try to ignore it. There's no way he could actually be afraid of me unless it was a trick. Could he?
"You—Where did you learn that?" he asks as if he is surprised. I raise an eyebrow at his sudden interest in me.
"I have a fairy friend in Bauslow," I reply. Some years ago, I met up with a great fairy who was having trouble with the locals. Seemed they thought she was cursed or evil or something. I had to fight a few of them back and convince the rest that she was there for their own protection. To cut a long story short, I saved the day and she rewarded me with a new type of magical power. Now I can summon the wind or even seal it inside small vessels, such as the late vase. It's a handy tool in a variety of circumstances.
"Bauslow?" His face is in utter confusion now, and he's completely lost his concentration on the whole battle ordeal. This is my chance. I stretch both of my hands in front of me, palms open and facing Hellpahrn, and close my eyes in concentration. I mutter a few words—I don't really know what they mean, something about waking the wind god and all—and begin to feel a pulsing sensation in my fingertips. Before he even realizes what I'm doing, a gush of wind knocks him about twenty feet back, right into a brick wall. He looks pretty unconscious, so I take the time to run toward the fountain.
It is really a gruesome sight now, the once pearly-white marble stained with dark blood. I am almost nauseated by the site, especially by the floating corpse, but I have seen worse. One word: redeads. I can tell now that the victim was definitely male—and a scrawny one at that—and I grab his shoulder to flip him over, gasping upon seeing his face. It's that creepy guy from the black and purple booth that got me into trouble with the guards yesterday. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes, strange as ever, are wide open with a look of horror hazed over them for eternity. It's an eerie sight, and I drop him in the same time it takes for me to fall over backwards. After so neatly tripping over myself, I turn back toward Hellpahrn, but he's no longer there. He's completely disappeared again.
So let's see if I can figure this out... Hellpahrn came into the city looking for me but then leaves after he's freaked out by a silly wind spell. He killed the creepy guy that I stole the potions from—mind you, Hellpahrn did steal them back from me. That means that the creepy guy was probably working for Hellpahrn. Ok, so that leaves the question of his desire to see me again. Why is he so determined to keep watch over me? And who was that guy he was talking to last night? I sit down against a wall in an alleyway to ponder some more. I think about the events that have led me to where I am now. Keal and I were supposed to take in a thief, but instead we stumble upon Hellpahrn. Keal leaves me with the bandits, then I find refuge in the city, then I get caught and get away again, and now I'm here. Why me?
Those girls knew Malon somehow, and they also know Hellpahrn. The girls! I jump up as if I have reached a conclusion and race back to their little house on the outskirts of town. The buildings so far seem untouched, though I'm sure a few of them were plundered during all the commotion. However, as I get closer to the house, I notice that the air is a bit warmer than usual. I round the last corner far too quickly and am almost swallowed by billowing flames. The girls' house, along with the two adjacent houses, is entirely engulfed in a blanket of fire.
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A/N:
Well, well, well. I finally got around to updating, and it's a bit longer than usual. Hopefully, everyone is as confused as I am hoping they are. If not, you are welcome to guess who everyone is, but I guarantee you, you will be wrong. Until next time, PLEASE REVIEW! Come on, now, it wouldn't kill you!
Chapter 6
So far in the past three days, I've been tied up at least three or four times, kicked, punched, and knocked unconscious how many times? Unfortunately for me, my coma lasts all of about five seconds this time. I am then introduced to a sharp wave up pain shooting up and down my spine, and if I had the resolve to do so, I would bang my head on the ground until I am unconscious. However, all I can think of is the immense throbbing of every muscle, tendon, and bone in my body. I can hear nothing, with the exception of a few muted screams coming from the two girls rushing to my side. I can't move for fear that the pain will get worse. I hate pain. Really, I do. This has got to be the dumbest idea I have ever come up with.
After a moment of blindingly, deafeningly, and otherwise sense-numbing anguish, some of my senses return, though in miniscule doses. I can feel the cold stone beneath me, which gradually becomes quite warm for one of two reasons. If I'm lucky, it's my body heat warming the ground, but I highly doubt that. I can also hear the girls' hysterical screaming, which eventually muffles down to encouraging words like "You'll be ok," and "We'll help you." Thank Nayru; I was beginning to think they were just going to stand there and scream at me all day.
Now that most of the pain is numbing—along with the feeling in my torso and legs—I can feel something in my side that doesn't quite belong there. I grunt through clenched teeth as I attempt to lift my head up a bit, just to find a leg of the chair rammed through my ribcage. Eyes wide, I try to speak, and 'ouch' isn't the first word that comes to mind.
"Holy shit!" does, however, make it's way out shakily before anything intelligent can. I stare in horror at the jagged, blood-stained rod making it's way through my tunic, which is probably in rags by now. I can never seem to keep these things in good shape for very long.
One of the girls keeps pushing my hands away from the wound as the other fishes through a basket for a long, white sheet. She runs to my side and flattens it next to me, and I realize that she may intend to use it as some primitive stretcher. I think not.
"If you wiggle any harder, you'll break something else! Please stop!" the younger girl pleads. She's kind of cute, no more than thirteen, with wavy strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The other, probably an older sister around seventeen or eighteen, rushes to my head. Her long black hair and green eyes set her apart from the younger girl almost entirely, but their other facial features are nearly identical.
"Hold still! We'll have to carry you back to the house."
"Can't I just walk?" I screech, though I doubt I'm in any condition to walk. I just want to lay here for now, but that doesn't seem to be one of my choices.
"Come on, now. We are going to take you home to mend you," the older girl pleads, but I am not going anywhere. I never intended to stay conscious after a fall like that, but lucky me is still awake and very much in pain. "Otherwise that wound is going to get worse." Oh, yeah? I'll show you worse. Though it feels as though I am tearing a bone from my body, I grip the splintered wood closest to my chest and rip it away from my body, screaming out every single curse word I can think of within a three-second time frame. I am either totally out of my mind or I'm a genius, considering the state I'm in. At the moment, I think I'm completely insane, though I have had the presence of mind to speak clearly, use deductive reasoning, and make an argument.
The girls squeal at my actions, though I'm actually quite calm. Strangely, all of the pain subsided as soon as I tore the fractured chair leg from the right side of my chest. I push myself up with very little trouble, though my back is in some pretty serious pain. Still, I've felt much worse. The younger girl is now hiding behind the eldest girl, whose mouth is gaping and eyes are shot wide. Now I'm beginning to freak out at the idea that perhaps I have lost all feeling in my body. I tap at the wound with my fist, and though I feel no pain, I can still feel the pressure from my hand. I don't understand; I am still covered in my own blood, yet I feel fine. I feel something cold land on my shoulder that scares the daylights out of me until I whip my head around to find the older girl's shivering hand grasping my arm. I let out a sigh of relief and nod.
"I'm ok."
"Are you sure? Maybe I should take a look, just to be safe." Her eyes are filled with concern. Sorry to be the cause of her worry, I nod and lean back on my arms a bit. At first she's too cautious, as if I'm going to lash out and attack her or something.
"Don't worry," I say, my sudden words startling her a bit. I smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. "I don't bite." She only looks at me and forces a pitiful smile, then edges closer to get a better look. She gently moves scraps of what used to be my new tunic aside to get a good view.
"How," she mutters without taking her eyes from my chest. Finally, after a good two or three minutes, she looks up at me. "There's no wound, no scar, nothing." I raise an eyebrow and sit up to look for myself. It took her three minutes to look at nothing but my bare chest? Well, I must say I am flattered, but it's not like I'm gonna get the reward now. Damnit, I'm not even injured anymore, so how can they take care of me?
"Well, that's very interesting," I mumble, hoping to break the awkward silence. The girls look at each other and begin to whisper between themselves. I edge closer to them to eavesdrop.
"Well, he is awfully skinny."
"Maybe we should take him in, anyway."
"We don't know who he is. What if he's a bad person?"
"He's not. He's my age, he can't be bad."
"Not necessarily. Don't you know—" The older girl stops in mid-sentence when she notices me hovering a bit, my goofy, I've-just-been-caught grin in place.
"Sorry!" I say rather loudly through my cheesy smile. They glance at each other with expressions that tell me they're not amused.
"Uh, are you, uh—" the older girl stutters. Finally the younger girl chimes in.
"My sister means are you hungry?" She has a large smile on her face, but it fades to a smirk after she is elbowed in the arm.
"Quiet," she whispers harshly.
"Am I ever!" I shout, jumping to my feet. It seems I'm completely healed, though I know not how. At this point I don't really care. I swipe up the sheet that had been laid out next to me and help them carry the baskets from the street to their house, which is less than a block away. The younger girl stares at me with amazement the entire way, while the older one walks a good five feet ahead.
"Why did you jump out of that window?" the young girl asks me. I stare blankly at my feet, not sure of what to tell her.
"Uh—"
"And why are you wearing such old clothes?"
"Old? They aren't that—"
"And how come you aren't bleeding anymore? And why—"
"That's enough, Delphie!" the older sister interjects as we round a corner. "Don't pester him" There's a bit of a silence until we come to the door of their home, which is rather tiny and situated just outside the main part of town in a nice little neighborhood. Reminds me a little of Kakariko Village, only a little more urbanized.
"So, Delphie is it? Sorry if I frightened you and your sister earlier. I'm just having a really bad day," I explain, fidgeting with the braces of my gauntlets. "I'm alright now, though." She smiles at me and gestures me through the now opened door. The house is pretty small, the typical one- room shack with a couple of beds, a nightstand between them, and a large round table with three chairs standing over a plush red and white rug in the center of the room. In place of an oven like the ones I'm used to, there's a tall fireplace-like structure with a rack for cooking and a short porcelain washbasin next to it. There's a pot boiling over on the oven rack, and the older girl rushes to it, quietly cursing to herself. As soon as she takes the lid from the cast-iron pot, I catch a whiff of something delicious. I can feel my mouth already watering at the scent, either because it smells extremely good or because I'm terribly hungry. Hopefully I will know soon.
I'm totally caught up in the smell of food when I feel something tug on my shirt. I turn to face Delphie, who has the sleeve of my tattered tunic in one hand and something in the other.
"Here's a clean tunic and shirt." I take it with a genuine smile.
"Why thank you." She runs to help her sister while I pull the old stuff off and put the new shirt and tunic on. The undershirt is a light green and feels a little cold after removing the bloodied white shirt from before. The tunic is dark brown and not quite my color, but it's clean and dry, two qualities I like in a tunic. It's just like my old green one from years ago, with laces up the front, sleeves, and bottom sides. It would really look cool if I had some kind of armor or mail to go under it.
As I adjust the tunic's fit, the older sister instructs Delphie to fetch three bowls and utensil sets, whatever that is. After setting three places, Delphie grabs my arm and ushers me to a seat at the table. The chair is a little darker than the other two, as if less worn. I don't think anyone ever sits here. I decide not to ask about it for a while, since everyone is busy and I feel as though I'm taking advantage of them without giving anything in return. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No. Just sit down. It will be ready in a minute," the older girl responds. Delphie responds to her sister's statement with a frown. As I sit down, she leans toward me and whispers in my ear.
"She isn't used to company." I nod both in understanding and agreement. Delphie then takes a seat to my right, leaving the other for her sister, who promptly slams a pot onto the middle of the table before spooning some out into each of the three bowls with a small, metal ladle. I'm kind of nervous now, unsure of my welcome. But I just can't pass up a free meal. The older sister takes her seat, picks up a tiny metal spoon and begins to scoop up a little soup at a time. I raise an eyebrow at this, since where I'm from everyone just picks up the bowl and sips away. I try to be proper, though, and attempt her custom. I get it right away, and soon I'm shoveling in as much as I can fit on the spoon. After a few minutes of bitter silence, which I really can't stand, I decide it's time to speak.
"I never did catch your name." She looks up, almost as if she's a bit startled, but quickly looks back down at her nearly empty bowl and closes her eyes.
"Ramala," she mutters.
"Well, I thank you very much, Ramala, for this wonderful meal and the exceptional hospitality you've shown me." Wow, I almost sounded smart just now. Her gaze rushes to meet mine, impressed with my sudden knowledge of the Hylian language. I guess it's hard for people to understand that, though I am stuck in a fourteen-year-old body, I have many more years of experience. Though it may have helped if I had actually taken the time to explain why, I would lose my mind if I had to tell everyone I met the entire story.
"Y-You're welcome," she says with a modest grin. I look down, trying to think of something else to say before it gets too quiet again.
"So, why do you have three chairs if there are only two of you?" That obviously was not the question to ask, since Ramala's expression turns to a frown before I even finish the sentence. Without saying a word, she grabs her bowl and takes it to the washbasin near the fireplace. I stare in utter confusion at Delphie, who takes her bowl away as well and kneels at the washbasin to clean it. Damnit, now I've done it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it," Ramala states sharply before walking out the door, slamming it behind her. Delphie is being rather silent, carefully setting her bowl into the porcelain washbasin and swirling the spoon in the water.
"What did I say?" I ask.
"Maybe I'll tell you someday, fairyboy." My face lights up in shock, and at my gasp she quickly turns her head to face me.
"Fairyboy?" I ask. How? How would she know that nickname? Only Malon used to call me that.
"My mother used to say that," she says with an innocent smile. "How do you know it?" I stare at the floor in sheer amazement and confusion.
"A-A friend of mine, a long time ago, used to call me that. She was the only one who—" I pause, remembering the girl, her fiery red hair, naïve gentleness, remarkable affability, annoying persistence, maddening talkativeness. She was a great friend, but Din did she get aggravating after a while. But that never kept me from protecting her, nor will it. To this day, I still pop in from time to time to check on her and Talon.
"Really?" Her smile grows to a full-toothed grin. She seems—happy—but why? How could this girl's mother know that? Unless she somehow knew Malon. Perhaps a distant cousin or aunt or something. "What's your name, anyway?" Her sudden question gives me a jump, and at this point I'm not sure whether I should tell them my name or not.
"Uh—" Before I can finish, Ramala dashes through the door, a look of horror on her face.
"Delphie, into the cellar, now!" Confusion fills the room, and a second urging from Ramala sends Delphie to her feet.
"What's going on?" I ask as Ramala begins to throw some clothing and food into a large leather bag.
"He's coming." Her voice is very shaky. Whoever she's talking about has got her scared to death.
"Who's coming?" I press as I stand up from the table. She's on her way to the door when she stops and turns to me, her eyes glaring in both fear and anger.
"You should leave town before you become involved." Involved? She leaves me with no answer and an abandoned house. I follow her to the door, which is left swinging on it's hinges and hits me in the back. It hurts a little, my back probably bruised a bit from my fall earlier, but I try to ignore it; my attention is diverted wholly on the commotion in the streets. My mouth hangs in surprise, for all I can see are people running around like cuccus with their heads cut off, screaming and running over each other to get to shelter or the city gates. I run toward the commotion—why I always react that way, I will never know. You'd think I would run away like everyone with a brain, but no—I must find out what is causing such a ruckus.
All the people seem to be running in a radius away from the fountain in the very center of town. I bump and push my way through the rushing crowd, which topples over me and gushes against me as if I'm trying to swim upstream against a raging current. I get knocked down at one point, and it is very difficult to regain my footing after that. I stumble closer and closer, a journey during which I get elbowed in the eye, and I grip at it like some infant. I think it somehow reopened the three-year-old scar that stretches over my eyebrow and slides past my right eye. I grip the wound so that it won't bleed in my face as I continue through the swarms. Finally I reach an opening, about twenty feet in radius around the fountain. The white marble fountain doesn't look much different, but as I turn my sight upward I notice the water turning a stark red. My gaze follows the streamlined carvings of the fountain until I reach the apex, atop which stands two figures—no, one is suspended in the air. A darker figure, arm extended to the other's throat, roars with a strange and familiar laughter.
"Hellpahrn!" I shout out, still covering my right eye with my hand. He stops laughing and stares in my direction, his cloak behind his shoulders and acting as a sort of cape fluttering behind him. He suddenly loses all interest in his captive, releasing them into the once clear waters of the fountain. The haunting echo of the splash is the only sound in the square now, and when the water stills, I notice that Hellpahrn is no longer atop the fountain. I open my eyes wide in the hopes to extend my line of sight, looking to my right and left. I remain still, my breathing hard and muscles ready. I'm afraid to blink so that I may miss the slightest movement. Nothing. Complete silence.
I take a step toward the fountain to get a better look at his victim, who's floating face-down in water that is now painted red. I don't go more than a couple feet before I am seized in a sort of stranglehold, a dagger at my throat and a large hand ripping at my scalp. This is all too familiar. If I had more time to think, I would say that since I've been in this place, my life has been rather cyclical.
"I've been looking for you, Link," he whispers in my ear with a raspy voice.
"You missed me that much, huh?" For some reason, my sarcasm only gets worse when I'm in trouble.
"You know, someday that mouth of yours may get you into trouble." Something catches his attention, and he turns his head to our left, where a short, scrawny little man is scuttling around a market booth, knocking a few pots over on his way. At this time, I'm not paying attention to the man, but to Hellpahrn. I've never been this close to him. He reeks of death, and a dark past looms over him in a sort of shadowy aura. I also take the time to notice a long scar from his collarbone down, ending somewhere behind his dark green shirt. His skin is cold and clammy, as if he's already dead. Wait a minute—why am I just standing here staring at him? I could have escaped twelve times by now. Let's see, what's the safest way to escape without getting my throat slit? I'm still covering the right side of my face with my hand, and he's holding the dagger in his left, which means my left is free for an attack. With every bit of energy I can muster, I burrow my elbow into his side. His arm quavers, and it gives me just enough time to slip beneath his grasp. He grabs at me with his right hand, but misses, and I make a run for it. Though, once I take full heed of the situation, I skid to a halt and turn to face him. He hasn't taken a step from the spot he was in before, and we both stand now, facing each other.
"You shouldn't put up such a fuss," he says in such a way a mother would speak to her child, strange as it may sound.
"Speak for yourself." His eyes glint.
"I am." Before I can think up a good comeback, or insult, he launches a triple attack of flaming orbs in my direction, which are each easily dodged. Unfortunately, as I am evading the third of the fireballs, he launches a fourth that hits me squarely in the chest, knocking me backwards and into a booth. A glassware booth. The booth, glasses, bowls, everything, including myself, all crash to the ground with a variety of deafening sounds. Remarkably, I am able to sit up with nothing more than a few scratches and perhaps bruises. I look down at my chest to find a bit of a charred circle on the front of my tunic. Damnit. Those girls just gave me this tunic and it's already got a huge stain on it.
I may not know anything about throwing magical orbs at my enemies, but I do know a few tricks. I think a moment, then suddenly remember something I had long forgotten. I grab an intact vase from the pile as I pull myself to my feet. I concentrate on the vase until I can no longer keep my grip on it, and as Hellpahrn raises his hand to release another slew of fireballs, I sling the vase at him. He raises his arms in front of him to block as it shatters directly in front of him, releasing a small shockwave that doesn't do much to injure him, though it does push him back a few feet. It kind of messes up his hair, too, which is now a little poofier than normal. I choke back a laugh, but eventually I just can't hold it in anymore.
"Hahaha! You should fire your barber!" I shout as I dodge the oncoming fireballs with ease. He looks stunned, but I try to ignore it. There's no way he could actually be afraid of me unless it was a trick. Could he?
"You—Where did you learn that?" he asks as if he is surprised. I raise an eyebrow at his sudden interest in me.
"I have a fairy friend in Bauslow," I reply. Some years ago, I met up with a great fairy who was having trouble with the locals. Seemed they thought she was cursed or evil or something. I had to fight a few of them back and convince the rest that she was there for their own protection. To cut a long story short, I saved the day and she rewarded me with a new type of magical power. Now I can summon the wind or even seal it inside small vessels, such as the late vase. It's a handy tool in a variety of circumstances.
"Bauslow?" His face is in utter confusion now, and he's completely lost his concentration on the whole battle ordeal. This is my chance. I stretch both of my hands in front of me, palms open and facing Hellpahrn, and close my eyes in concentration. I mutter a few words—I don't really know what they mean, something about waking the wind god and all—and begin to feel a pulsing sensation in my fingertips. Before he even realizes what I'm doing, a gush of wind knocks him about twenty feet back, right into a brick wall. He looks pretty unconscious, so I take the time to run toward the fountain.
It is really a gruesome sight now, the once pearly-white marble stained with dark blood. I am almost nauseated by the site, especially by the floating corpse, but I have seen worse. One word: redeads. I can tell now that the victim was definitely male—and a scrawny one at that—and I grab his shoulder to flip him over, gasping upon seeing his face. It's that creepy guy from the black and purple booth that got me into trouble with the guards yesterday. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes, strange as ever, are wide open with a look of horror hazed over them for eternity. It's an eerie sight, and I drop him in the same time it takes for me to fall over backwards. After so neatly tripping over myself, I turn back toward Hellpahrn, but he's no longer there. He's completely disappeared again.
So let's see if I can figure this out... Hellpahrn came into the city looking for me but then leaves after he's freaked out by a silly wind spell. He killed the creepy guy that I stole the potions from—mind you, Hellpahrn did steal them back from me. That means that the creepy guy was probably working for Hellpahrn. Ok, so that leaves the question of his desire to see me again. Why is he so determined to keep watch over me? And who was that guy he was talking to last night? I sit down against a wall in an alleyway to ponder some more. I think about the events that have led me to where I am now. Keal and I were supposed to take in a thief, but instead we stumble upon Hellpahrn. Keal leaves me with the bandits, then I find refuge in the city, then I get caught and get away again, and now I'm here. Why me?
Those girls knew Malon somehow, and they also know Hellpahrn. The girls! I jump up as if I have reached a conclusion and race back to their little house on the outskirts of town. The buildings so far seem untouched, though I'm sure a few of them were plundered during all the commotion. However, as I get closer to the house, I notice that the air is a bit warmer than usual. I round the last corner far too quickly and am almost swallowed by billowing flames. The girls' house, along with the two adjacent houses, is entirely engulfed in a blanket of fire.
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A/N:
Well, well, well. I finally got around to updating, and it's a bit longer than usual. Hopefully, everyone is as confused as I am hoping they are. If not, you are welcome to guess who everyone is, but I guarantee you, you will be wrong. Until next time, PLEASE REVIEW! Come on, now, it wouldn't kill you!