You know it, I know it, Nintendo knows it...I DON'T OWN ZELDA...yet.
Ch. 24: Broken Sword
Airaen sat down on the sand, her breathing heavy and labored. Ahrima angrily walked over to her and knelt down, a stern look on his face. "Two days of training and already you're tired?" he asked, betraying annoyance.
She looked up at him, gasped, "Master...how can I keep...keep up with you? You're...you're so fast..."
Ahrima stood angrily, driving his staff into the sand, then leaned on it, staring at her. "Keep up with me? You constantly focus on where I'm going, how fast I'm going! Focus on where I'll be, not where I have left! Idiot, pick up your staff now, slacker!"
She grasped the staff beside her then, using it as a crutch, stood up, swaying slightly, rubbing at the welt on her leg she had received from his own staff. Grasping it with both hands, she put the staff in front of her, crouching low as he had taught her, then angled the staff towards the ground. "Good," Ahrima said, "You're defensive position has gotten a lot better...much better. Now, focus on where I'll be, on my body as a whole. Keep your eyes clear, young Fadiya." He disappeared again in a blur of motion, feet barely touching the sand.
Here we go again, she thought.
Link, bored with the endless comings and goings and complaints of the subjects, strolled along the garden path. He yearned for a bit of adventure, excitement, or anything. Most of all, he longed for the witty, almost rude comments from his only child. A month and a half, Airaen, he thought glumly, When the hell are you coming back?
He had already sent word to Malon via Gate of Airaen's departure, wondering if she had gone home to the Ranch. Malon had replied that she had seen neither hide nor hair of the child. "That rules that possibility out, then," Zelda had said glumly. But Link sensed Zelda knew quite a bit more of what was going on than she displayed; he had decided to let the matter drop since Zelda was a little...moody lately.
He sighed, thought, Just like Airaen...
"What's the purpose of this, Master?" Airaen asked, securing the blindfold in one hand while gripping her staff in the other.
"It's to help you use your other senses than just your eyes, of course, and to heighten that awareness of yours that you told me about. I won't lie to you, though," Ahrima said, "You're doing quite well for only three months, Fadiya. Much faster, but you need to be aware of everything."
"Everything?" she asked, at a loss.
Ahrima nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him. "Your environment, for one thing. Remember that your surroundings, everything around it, can be used as a weapon. That's why you need to know your surroundings in touch, smell, taste, hearing, everything. The blindfold will help you in that."
Airaen nodded, thinking, My father used to say that when I was little.
"Master?" she called out.
Silence.
Calming herself, she focused on the air around her, stilling her breathing slightly. She could hear the crash of waves...the wind in the palm trees...
She felt a slight movement in the air, blocked a blow from Ahrima's staff in front of her, pushing him off, then, crouching low, swung a parallel kick at his side. Her foot met with air, as Ahrima was gone again.
Spinning around, she held her staff tightly in both hands, focusing her awareness, her senses. She slid her bare feet along the side, feeling the slight drum beat of movement there, sporadic and subtle. Gritting her teeth, she jumped forward in the air, flipping over as Ahrima sent another blow her way. Landing on her feet, she spun around again.
"Much better," Ahrima said, "But, you're too slow in the uptake. Always try to be one step ahead of your opponent, Fadiya!"
Airaen brought her staff slightly behind her, bending her knees as she placed her right foot in front of her, gripping the sand with her toes. She pushed herself forward, then rolled as she felt the wind from his staff brush at her back. "Good!" he cried from behind her. Seeing an opportunity, she swung her staff parallel towards him, felt the shattering crack from his own block. "Very good," she heard him say to himself. She grinned triumphantly. "NO SMILING!!" he yelled, "I WILL NOT HAVE SLACKERS!"
She became serious again, then leapt at him, using his voice and body heat as a guide as she swung at a downward slant.
"I don't get it," Airaen said around the campfire, staring at Ahrima. "How is it that you manage to catch a fish that big?" She stared glumly at her own cooked little creature in her hand; Ahrima had taught her to fish the very first day.
"Better to know how to hunt for food than to be an idiot and pretend to know how to do it," he had said. He always says stuff like that, she thought.
"You're not being patient enough. How many times have I told you, Fidaya? Patience is the best quality; patience leads you to full potential. Without it, you falter." He took a large bite from his fish, then took a long draught of coconut milk.
She sighed, then bit into hers. Fending for myself, she thought, Master's first lesson.
"Eat your fish," Ahrima commanded.
"Yes, Master," Airaen obeyed.
"Attack, parry! Attack, parry! Come on, Fidaya! Keep up...you should be going much faster than that!"
"I'm trying, Master!" Airaen called out, sliding to a halt. "But you somehow manage to get around me."
Ahrima swung his staff at an angle towards the bottom of her leg; she blocked it expertly, then brought her staff underneath his, throwing it up into the air, startling him. She pushed off from the sand, barreling into him before flipping over and sending a resounding kick into his gut.
"You...you were saying?" Ahrima said quietly, panting a little. "Would you believe it's already been a year? Look how far you've come. Now you just need to be confident."
Airaen was startled; he rarely gave out compliments. Sitting down in the sand, she relaxed, yet remained alert, limbs ready to strike. "And a sword," she finished for him.
Ahrima raised an eyebrow, then went over to pick up his staff. Straightening, he said, "That broken sword you keep in your pack? What is its importance if it's broken?"
She shrugged, said, "Something tells me I need to keep it, Master."
"Then why not fix it, Fidaya?" he answered; it was a simple question with a difficult solution.
"Are you a blacksmith, Master?"
Ahrima shook his head, replied, "No, but I know someone who is." Startled, Airaen stood up, the wind pulling at her ragged tunic and pants. "Over that mountain," he pointed behind him, "lies an entirely new land, didn't you know? It is Ilyses, the island of light, in the old language. I have some blacksmith friends in my old village, before I came here to learn under my own Master. Tomorrow, I will take you there; it is best for you to be learned in many cultures and such."
"Really, Master?" Airaen said happily, smiling.
"I said no smiling!" he replied harshly. "Of course I'll take you there, Fidaya, at dawn's break. It is not a long climb, maybe a day or two. Come, let's pack some things."
She followed him back to his house, dancing happily behind his back.
The day started as any other day had for the past year: getting up at dawn, dressing in the same, ragged tunic. However, breakfast was a swifter affair. Ahrima, grabbing his staff as if it were a walking stick and not a weapon, motioned for Airaen to follow him out, shouldering his own pack. She followed him, placing her pack securely on her shoulders, then grabbed her own staff that lay by the door.
"Hurry up, Fidaya."
"Coming, Master."
Airaen had gotten used to traveling in bare feet; she felt it as a comfort. Shoes now felt to her as a cage, a wall that kept her from her true self. Securing the bandage she kept around her right hand, she quickened her pace behind Ahrima, her passing quiet in the fashion he had taught her.
After nearly half the day, they reached the top. "It won't take as long for us to get down, Fidaya, but look: this is my homeland, Ilyses."
Airaen looked out over a lush, green land. Villages were strewn here and there across it, and a long road ran from the base of the mountain to the endless horizon. She looked at her master, saw the inward stare he had. "Master?"
"I haven't been here in some two decades, Fidaya. Let's hope my friends are still blacksmiths!" With that, he took off at a steady pace down the mountain, Airaen following close behind.
"There's a good inn somewhere here...ah! There it is! Leaping Frog...the best inn in all Ilyses," Ahrima said as they turned off the road towards the small inn. Airaen noted how trees of all types stood out in the road and along the hillsides, blocking the traveler's vision; she found it clearly beautiful.
Ahrima held the door open for her, allowing her to pass through before shutting the door behind him. Going to the counter, he called out, "If Gash and his brother's still here, I would have a word with them!"
A door off to their right swung open to reveal a dark-skinned, beer- bellied, balding man. His brown eyes brightened when he saw Ahrima. "Well, well, well...it's Ahrima! Fash, you old ass, get out here!" he called over his shoulder. "Ahrima, old friend, 'tis a long time since I saw y'last! Come back for a good pint?"
Behind him came a tall, muscular man; he had green eyes and the same dark skin Airaen had noticed that all inhabitants of Ilyses had had as she passed them on her two-day travel on the road. "Great Nayru, if I didn't know any better I would say that'n there's good ol' Ahrima!" He pulled Ahrima into a hug, each patting each other on the back while Gash stood at a distance, a devilish grin on his face.
Gash's gaze turned to Airaen, and he smiled. "And who might you be?" he asked.
"Airaen, sir...I am Master Ahrima's fidaya," she said quietly, bowing respectfully as Ahrima had shown her the night before: hands held in a triangular shape to her chest, bowing at the waist until her face was parallel with the floor.
"Fidaya, eh?" Fash said, pulling away from Ahrima to get a better look at the girl, then returned the bow. "Since when do you teach, Ahrima? Last I heard, you never moved from Master Arin's dwelling after he died."
Ahrima shrugged, said, "She came upon me unawares. But, she has some talent in fighting, I'll give you that." Fash and Gash laughed.
"Come on, I'll give you two a room," Gash said, ushering them through the door.
Airaen set her pack down on the bed, squinting as light from the setting sun glanced off the mirror by the window. Curious, she looked at herself in the mirror, something she had not done for nearly a year.
She was startled as she stared at herself. Her skin was darker, her body lean and fit looking; she was taller than before, and her purple eyes sparkled, her shoulder-length hair falling softly on her shoulders. What startled her the most was how...well...older she looked. Fresh into womanhood, she thought suddenly as she remembered her age. Sixteen. It amazed her that she had forgotten her own birthday; she had been sixteen for a month. She had lost all sense of time in her training, thought, What would Roh think of me if he saw me looking like a rugged foreigner?
The thought of Roh sent a pleasurable chill through her, and a new feeling of longing for him drove into her heart. Sighing, she pulled her hair back with a tie, fixed her tunic, tightened the sash around her waist, and walked out of the room, anxious for a good meal.
There was already singing and laughter as she reached the tavern section of the inn. The fire roaring in the fire pit danced off the walls. Looking around, she saw her master sitting with Gash and Fash, talking amiably over a pint and a hearty meal of chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Her mouth watering, she made her way quickly over to him, sitting down next to Ahrima. Looking over at her, he said, "Ah, well...you were gone so long we ate your meal, too."
Panicking, she cried, "YOU DID WHAT?! BUT, I'M HUNGRY!" Several others in the tavern glanced her way.
Nearly choking with laughter, he replied, "You're too gullible! Here." He shoved a plate piled with food over to her.
Casting a death glare at him, she replied, "I thought you said no smiling."
"Ah, but tonight I make the exception when I'm at the Leaping Frog Inn!" he said, taking another drink from his pint. "Eat up, or I'll really eat your food."
Grumbling, she sat down, then dove into her meal, saying something between mouthfuls like, "Ah, home-cook food good."
Ahrima rolled his eyes at her.
"Hey, Airaen," Fash said, shoving a pint her way, "Ever had good ale?"
Looking up, she said, "Never had ale...my father never let me...but, seeing as my dad isn't here right now, sure! I've only had wine." She took a long drink, then set the cup down, saying, "I think I'll have some more..."
"But, Airaen, you haven't even finished that one yet," Gash said, raising an eyebrow.
"I know," she replied, then took another bite of chicken.
"Song, let's have a song, Fash!" someone cried over the din of voices.
Looking up at the owner of the voice, Fash waved him away, said, "Sorry, but my throat's a bit sore, and I'm tired of singing the same songs over and over again."
"Let's hear a new one, then," someone else called. There was a rumor of agreement.
"Well..." Fash glanced mischievously at Airaen, who caught his eye, paled.
"What...why are you looking at me like that?" she asked tentatively.
"So, Airaen...let's have a good ol' Hylian song, eh?" Fash said. Ahrima nearly choked on his drink from laughter.
"Aye, give us a song, girl-child!" a man called out.
"Song, song, song, song!" the chorus rang as several banged their fists on the table.
Airaen got nervously to her feet, pushing her chair back; a rousing cheer rang around the tavern. "Alright, alright...I've got a few Hylian songs," Airaen yelled, quieting them down as she glared at Fash, who smiled innocently back.
"Got any tavern songs, missy?" someone cried.
Sighing, Airaen nodded, said, "Yea, I've got one...Malon taught me it. Here goes:
Oh, you can 'ave your own sweet house,
You can run free under the sky,
But what's the point to livin' if you ain't got a fancy ale?
You can keep your cherished wine, sir,
You can keep your fancy whiskey,
And, hell, go ahead and keep the beer, too,
'Cause the only thing that I be wantin'
Is a good ol' fancy ale!"
There was a round of cheers; Airaen blushed a little, a smile betraying her. "Let's have another one, missy! Aye, another one!" someone called.
She sighed, said, "Okay, okay...here's another:
Sink to the ground in the pourin' rain,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come on, now, go!
Straight to the barrel and round it goes!
That barrel ain't broke, you know it's true,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come on, now, go!
Straight to the door and out you go!
The night's getting on, and so is the rain,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come, now, go!
Out in the rain and away you go!"
There was another round of cheers and a bit of laughter, while some called out, "Catchy, that'n was! Catchy!"
Airaen sighed and sat back in her chair, taking a long draught of ale. "Aw, come on, Airaen, you can't be spent now, eh?" Gash said, nudging her. She glared at him over the rim of her cup.
"Good sir," she said, "I'll have to be a teensy bit more drunk for any of that!" She finished her cup and set it down on the table.
My parents would kill me if they knew what I was doing, she thought with a grin.
Airaen stared up at the dark ceiling, glad for the soft pillow and bed. Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting its light on her bed. She sighed, then rolled over to stare out the window. The dark sky was dotted with stars. That was fun, she thought, but I need to be more focused. I need the Master Sword reforged, and then I need to get back to training.
As she fell asleep, she thought, I wonder what Roh's doing right now...
"Come on, Fidaya, keep up," Ahrima called over his shoulder. "That smithy's around her somewhere in this goddess-forsaken village of mine."
Airaen quickened her pace, suddenly conscious of the broken sword that lay in the bottom of her pack. Shouldering it, she followed her master as he rounded the corner to open a door to a gloomy shop.
The inside was humid and smelled of ash. Coughing a little, she moved into the shop, following behind her master closely. "Hey, is this the smithy of Ith, ya?" Ahrima called out.
"Yea, I be Ith," someone called from behind the counter. Then, a short, robust man stood up, the same dark skin as everyone else of Ilyses. "Ahrima, man!" Ith cried upon seeing her master, "What you be doin' here, ya? Been a mighty long time since I be seeing you, Ahrima, man!" He drummed his hands on the counter.
"Hi, Ith...I'm actually here on business for my fidaya, here. Name's Airaen," he motioned for Airaen to step forward, who felt like a child.
"So, you be finally getting yourself a fidaya, eh, Ahrima, man? Well, what be you needing, then, girl?" Ith asked, looking at Airaen.
Drawing her pack to around to her front, she rummaged through it, then brought out the broken Master Sword. Handing it to him, she asked, "Can you fix it, sir?"
"Hm..." Ith said as he ran his callused finger over the blade. "An old blade, this one is...but remarkably strong. Hm...this one be havin' a blade I have never seen in m'life, no I have not. Ah, we'll just be havin' to make due with the stuff we be havin' here, eh? Don't you worry...this is a good sword...I be makin' it better than it was before! Aye, better than better!"
"How much will it be, old friend?" Ahrima asked.
"Ah," Ith said, waving him away. "This one be on the house, Ahrima, man. This be the most amazing blade I've seen! And, you be my good friend, that you are." Ith smiled, white teeth gleaming. "Come back in a day or two and I'll show you a good sword...I'll even be throwin' in a good sheath for you, too, young Fidaya!"
Airaen, bowing, turned and followed her master out.
"Goddess!" Airaen cried as she saw the blade, held respectfully in Ith's hands. Beautifully forged in a milky green metal, the blade looked like something not of their land; it was an inch longer than the original Master Sword. Traced around the edge were intricate carvings and signs. Grasping it by the hilt, she lifted it upward, marveling at its lightness, yet sturdiness. "What are these carvings?" she asked upon bringing it closer to her face.
"Runes in the ancient language," Ahrima said from behind her. "These runes here stand for 'steadfast.' This one here stands for 'wisdom.' This one is 'courage.'"
"And that one be 'sunset,'" Ith said, coming over to them to point at the rune in the very center of the blade. "I be knowin' of the Sheikah language, Airaen, and I be thinkin' that, since this one here be your blade, you ought to have had your name carved in there." He grinned, then drew out a beautiful sheath of the same color as the blade. "This one be for you."
Airaen bowed. "Thank you, sir, for this wonderful sword. I'll use it well," she said.
"After you learn how to use it properly," Ahrima said, sheathing the sword for her. She nodded, then buckled it across her back; it felt right on her, a familiar weight.
"Now, Fidaya," Ahrima said, "the real training begins."
Though they had stayed at the village for a bit over a week, the familiar beach seemed just as beautiful and homely as before. Airaen hid a smile, feeling the warm sand under her feet as she made her way over to Ahrima's shack. "Wait here," he said, climbing the rickety stairs and disappearing into the shack.
He returned later bearing strange articles of clothing. "These," he said, showing wristbands, anklebands, and a purple sash, "will help you with your speed. Put them on. Careful now...they're heavy."
"Goddess!" she cried as she put them on, finding it hard to move with the added weight.
"Get used to it, Fidaya! You'll be wearing this for the next year. I told you this would be difficult. Now you understand: a fighter must be superior in all aspects. Speed is your weakness. Make every weakness a strength!"
Wrapping the sash around her, Airaen said, "Yes, Master." Though her walking was now labored, she picked up her staff she had placed in the sand and got ready.
&&
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Ch. 24: Broken Sword
Airaen sat down on the sand, her breathing heavy and labored. Ahrima angrily walked over to her and knelt down, a stern look on his face. "Two days of training and already you're tired?" he asked, betraying annoyance.
She looked up at him, gasped, "Master...how can I keep...keep up with you? You're...you're so fast..."
Ahrima stood angrily, driving his staff into the sand, then leaned on it, staring at her. "Keep up with me? You constantly focus on where I'm going, how fast I'm going! Focus on where I'll be, not where I have left! Idiot, pick up your staff now, slacker!"
She grasped the staff beside her then, using it as a crutch, stood up, swaying slightly, rubbing at the welt on her leg she had received from his own staff. Grasping it with both hands, she put the staff in front of her, crouching low as he had taught her, then angled the staff towards the ground. "Good," Ahrima said, "You're defensive position has gotten a lot better...much better. Now, focus on where I'll be, on my body as a whole. Keep your eyes clear, young Fadiya." He disappeared again in a blur of motion, feet barely touching the sand.
Here we go again, she thought.
Link, bored with the endless comings and goings and complaints of the subjects, strolled along the garden path. He yearned for a bit of adventure, excitement, or anything. Most of all, he longed for the witty, almost rude comments from his only child. A month and a half, Airaen, he thought glumly, When the hell are you coming back?
He had already sent word to Malon via Gate of Airaen's departure, wondering if she had gone home to the Ranch. Malon had replied that she had seen neither hide nor hair of the child. "That rules that possibility out, then," Zelda had said glumly. But Link sensed Zelda knew quite a bit more of what was going on than she displayed; he had decided to let the matter drop since Zelda was a little...moody lately.
He sighed, thought, Just like Airaen...
"What's the purpose of this, Master?" Airaen asked, securing the blindfold in one hand while gripping her staff in the other.
"It's to help you use your other senses than just your eyes, of course, and to heighten that awareness of yours that you told me about. I won't lie to you, though," Ahrima said, "You're doing quite well for only three months, Fadiya. Much faster, but you need to be aware of everything."
"Everything?" she asked, at a loss.
Ahrima nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him. "Your environment, for one thing. Remember that your surroundings, everything around it, can be used as a weapon. That's why you need to know your surroundings in touch, smell, taste, hearing, everything. The blindfold will help you in that."
Airaen nodded, thinking, My father used to say that when I was little.
"Master?" she called out.
Silence.
Calming herself, she focused on the air around her, stilling her breathing slightly. She could hear the crash of waves...the wind in the palm trees...
She felt a slight movement in the air, blocked a blow from Ahrima's staff in front of her, pushing him off, then, crouching low, swung a parallel kick at his side. Her foot met with air, as Ahrima was gone again.
Spinning around, she held her staff tightly in both hands, focusing her awareness, her senses. She slid her bare feet along the side, feeling the slight drum beat of movement there, sporadic and subtle. Gritting her teeth, she jumped forward in the air, flipping over as Ahrima sent another blow her way. Landing on her feet, she spun around again.
"Much better," Ahrima said, "But, you're too slow in the uptake. Always try to be one step ahead of your opponent, Fadiya!"
Airaen brought her staff slightly behind her, bending her knees as she placed her right foot in front of her, gripping the sand with her toes. She pushed herself forward, then rolled as she felt the wind from his staff brush at her back. "Good!" he cried from behind her. Seeing an opportunity, she swung her staff parallel towards him, felt the shattering crack from his own block. "Very good," she heard him say to himself. She grinned triumphantly. "NO SMILING!!" he yelled, "I WILL NOT HAVE SLACKERS!"
She became serious again, then leapt at him, using his voice and body heat as a guide as she swung at a downward slant.
"I don't get it," Airaen said around the campfire, staring at Ahrima. "How is it that you manage to catch a fish that big?" She stared glumly at her own cooked little creature in her hand; Ahrima had taught her to fish the very first day.
"Better to know how to hunt for food than to be an idiot and pretend to know how to do it," he had said. He always says stuff like that, she thought.
"You're not being patient enough. How many times have I told you, Fidaya? Patience is the best quality; patience leads you to full potential. Without it, you falter." He took a large bite from his fish, then took a long draught of coconut milk.
She sighed, then bit into hers. Fending for myself, she thought, Master's first lesson.
"Eat your fish," Ahrima commanded.
"Yes, Master," Airaen obeyed.
"Attack, parry! Attack, parry! Come on, Fidaya! Keep up...you should be going much faster than that!"
"I'm trying, Master!" Airaen called out, sliding to a halt. "But you somehow manage to get around me."
Ahrima swung his staff at an angle towards the bottom of her leg; she blocked it expertly, then brought her staff underneath his, throwing it up into the air, startling him. She pushed off from the sand, barreling into him before flipping over and sending a resounding kick into his gut.
"You...you were saying?" Ahrima said quietly, panting a little. "Would you believe it's already been a year? Look how far you've come. Now you just need to be confident."
Airaen was startled; he rarely gave out compliments. Sitting down in the sand, she relaxed, yet remained alert, limbs ready to strike. "And a sword," she finished for him.
Ahrima raised an eyebrow, then went over to pick up his staff. Straightening, he said, "That broken sword you keep in your pack? What is its importance if it's broken?"
She shrugged, said, "Something tells me I need to keep it, Master."
"Then why not fix it, Fidaya?" he answered; it was a simple question with a difficult solution.
"Are you a blacksmith, Master?"
Ahrima shook his head, replied, "No, but I know someone who is." Startled, Airaen stood up, the wind pulling at her ragged tunic and pants. "Over that mountain," he pointed behind him, "lies an entirely new land, didn't you know? It is Ilyses, the island of light, in the old language. I have some blacksmith friends in my old village, before I came here to learn under my own Master. Tomorrow, I will take you there; it is best for you to be learned in many cultures and such."
"Really, Master?" Airaen said happily, smiling.
"I said no smiling!" he replied harshly. "Of course I'll take you there, Fidaya, at dawn's break. It is not a long climb, maybe a day or two. Come, let's pack some things."
She followed him back to his house, dancing happily behind his back.
The day started as any other day had for the past year: getting up at dawn, dressing in the same, ragged tunic. However, breakfast was a swifter affair. Ahrima, grabbing his staff as if it were a walking stick and not a weapon, motioned for Airaen to follow him out, shouldering his own pack. She followed him, placing her pack securely on her shoulders, then grabbed her own staff that lay by the door.
"Hurry up, Fidaya."
"Coming, Master."
Airaen had gotten used to traveling in bare feet; she felt it as a comfort. Shoes now felt to her as a cage, a wall that kept her from her true self. Securing the bandage she kept around her right hand, she quickened her pace behind Ahrima, her passing quiet in the fashion he had taught her.
After nearly half the day, they reached the top. "It won't take as long for us to get down, Fidaya, but look: this is my homeland, Ilyses."
Airaen looked out over a lush, green land. Villages were strewn here and there across it, and a long road ran from the base of the mountain to the endless horizon. She looked at her master, saw the inward stare he had. "Master?"
"I haven't been here in some two decades, Fidaya. Let's hope my friends are still blacksmiths!" With that, he took off at a steady pace down the mountain, Airaen following close behind.
"There's a good inn somewhere here...ah! There it is! Leaping Frog...the best inn in all Ilyses," Ahrima said as they turned off the road towards the small inn. Airaen noted how trees of all types stood out in the road and along the hillsides, blocking the traveler's vision; she found it clearly beautiful.
Ahrima held the door open for her, allowing her to pass through before shutting the door behind him. Going to the counter, he called out, "If Gash and his brother's still here, I would have a word with them!"
A door off to their right swung open to reveal a dark-skinned, beer- bellied, balding man. His brown eyes brightened when he saw Ahrima. "Well, well, well...it's Ahrima! Fash, you old ass, get out here!" he called over his shoulder. "Ahrima, old friend, 'tis a long time since I saw y'last! Come back for a good pint?"
Behind him came a tall, muscular man; he had green eyes and the same dark skin Airaen had noticed that all inhabitants of Ilyses had had as she passed them on her two-day travel on the road. "Great Nayru, if I didn't know any better I would say that'n there's good ol' Ahrima!" He pulled Ahrima into a hug, each patting each other on the back while Gash stood at a distance, a devilish grin on his face.
Gash's gaze turned to Airaen, and he smiled. "And who might you be?" he asked.
"Airaen, sir...I am Master Ahrima's fidaya," she said quietly, bowing respectfully as Ahrima had shown her the night before: hands held in a triangular shape to her chest, bowing at the waist until her face was parallel with the floor.
"Fidaya, eh?" Fash said, pulling away from Ahrima to get a better look at the girl, then returned the bow. "Since when do you teach, Ahrima? Last I heard, you never moved from Master Arin's dwelling after he died."
Ahrima shrugged, said, "She came upon me unawares. But, she has some talent in fighting, I'll give you that." Fash and Gash laughed.
"Come on, I'll give you two a room," Gash said, ushering them through the door.
Airaen set her pack down on the bed, squinting as light from the setting sun glanced off the mirror by the window. Curious, she looked at herself in the mirror, something she had not done for nearly a year.
She was startled as she stared at herself. Her skin was darker, her body lean and fit looking; she was taller than before, and her purple eyes sparkled, her shoulder-length hair falling softly on her shoulders. What startled her the most was how...well...older she looked. Fresh into womanhood, she thought suddenly as she remembered her age. Sixteen. It amazed her that she had forgotten her own birthday; she had been sixteen for a month. She had lost all sense of time in her training, thought, What would Roh think of me if he saw me looking like a rugged foreigner?
The thought of Roh sent a pleasurable chill through her, and a new feeling of longing for him drove into her heart. Sighing, she pulled her hair back with a tie, fixed her tunic, tightened the sash around her waist, and walked out of the room, anxious for a good meal.
There was already singing and laughter as she reached the tavern section of the inn. The fire roaring in the fire pit danced off the walls. Looking around, she saw her master sitting with Gash and Fash, talking amiably over a pint and a hearty meal of chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Her mouth watering, she made her way quickly over to him, sitting down next to Ahrima. Looking over at her, he said, "Ah, well...you were gone so long we ate your meal, too."
Panicking, she cried, "YOU DID WHAT?! BUT, I'M HUNGRY!" Several others in the tavern glanced her way.
Nearly choking with laughter, he replied, "You're too gullible! Here." He shoved a plate piled with food over to her.
Casting a death glare at him, she replied, "I thought you said no smiling."
"Ah, but tonight I make the exception when I'm at the Leaping Frog Inn!" he said, taking another drink from his pint. "Eat up, or I'll really eat your food."
Grumbling, she sat down, then dove into her meal, saying something between mouthfuls like, "Ah, home-cook food good."
Ahrima rolled his eyes at her.
"Hey, Airaen," Fash said, shoving a pint her way, "Ever had good ale?"
Looking up, she said, "Never had ale...my father never let me...but, seeing as my dad isn't here right now, sure! I've only had wine." She took a long drink, then set the cup down, saying, "I think I'll have some more..."
"But, Airaen, you haven't even finished that one yet," Gash said, raising an eyebrow.
"I know," she replied, then took another bite of chicken.
"Song, let's have a song, Fash!" someone cried over the din of voices.
Looking up at the owner of the voice, Fash waved him away, said, "Sorry, but my throat's a bit sore, and I'm tired of singing the same songs over and over again."
"Let's hear a new one, then," someone else called. There was a rumor of agreement.
"Well..." Fash glanced mischievously at Airaen, who caught his eye, paled.
"What...why are you looking at me like that?" she asked tentatively.
"So, Airaen...let's have a good ol' Hylian song, eh?" Fash said. Ahrima nearly choked on his drink from laughter.
"Aye, give us a song, girl-child!" a man called out.
"Song, song, song, song!" the chorus rang as several banged their fists on the table.
Airaen got nervously to her feet, pushing her chair back; a rousing cheer rang around the tavern. "Alright, alright...I've got a few Hylian songs," Airaen yelled, quieting them down as she glared at Fash, who smiled innocently back.
"Got any tavern songs, missy?" someone cried.
Sighing, Airaen nodded, said, "Yea, I've got one...Malon taught me it. Here goes:
Oh, you can 'ave your own sweet house,
You can run free under the sky,
But what's the point to livin' if you ain't got a fancy ale?
You can keep your cherished wine, sir,
You can keep your fancy whiskey,
And, hell, go ahead and keep the beer, too,
'Cause the only thing that I be wantin'
Is a good ol' fancy ale!"
There was a round of cheers; Airaen blushed a little, a smile betraying her. "Let's have another one, missy! Aye, another one!" someone called.
She sighed, said, "Okay, okay...here's another:
Sink to the ground in the pourin' rain,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come on, now, go!
Straight to the barrel and round it goes!
That barrel ain't broke, you know it's true,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come on, now, go!
Straight to the door and out you go!
The night's getting on, and so is the rain,
Come on now, comin' back again!
Have another ale, come, now, go!
Out in the rain and away you go!"
There was another round of cheers and a bit of laughter, while some called out, "Catchy, that'n was! Catchy!"
Airaen sighed and sat back in her chair, taking a long draught of ale. "Aw, come on, Airaen, you can't be spent now, eh?" Gash said, nudging her. She glared at him over the rim of her cup.
"Good sir," she said, "I'll have to be a teensy bit more drunk for any of that!" She finished her cup and set it down on the table.
My parents would kill me if they knew what I was doing, she thought with a grin.
Airaen stared up at the dark ceiling, glad for the soft pillow and bed. Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting its light on her bed. She sighed, then rolled over to stare out the window. The dark sky was dotted with stars. That was fun, she thought, but I need to be more focused. I need the Master Sword reforged, and then I need to get back to training.
As she fell asleep, she thought, I wonder what Roh's doing right now...
"Come on, Fidaya, keep up," Ahrima called over his shoulder. "That smithy's around her somewhere in this goddess-forsaken village of mine."
Airaen quickened her pace, suddenly conscious of the broken sword that lay in the bottom of her pack. Shouldering it, she followed her master as he rounded the corner to open a door to a gloomy shop.
The inside was humid and smelled of ash. Coughing a little, she moved into the shop, following behind her master closely. "Hey, is this the smithy of Ith, ya?" Ahrima called out.
"Yea, I be Ith," someone called from behind the counter. Then, a short, robust man stood up, the same dark skin as everyone else of Ilyses. "Ahrima, man!" Ith cried upon seeing her master, "What you be doin' here, ya? Been a mighty long time since I be seeing you, Ahrima, man!" He drummed his hands on the counter.
"Hi, Ith...I'm actually here on business for my fidaya, here. Name's Airaen," he motioned for Airaen to step forward, who felt like a child.
"So, you be finally getting yourself a fidaya, eh, Ahrima, man? Well, what be you needing, then, girl?" Ith asked, looking at Airaen.
Drawing her pack to around to her front, she rummaged through it, then brought out the broken Master Sword. Handing it to him, she asked, "Can you fix it, sir?"
"Hm..." Ith said as he ran his callused finger over the blade. "An old blade, this one is...but remarkably strong. Hm...this one be havin' a blade I have never seen in m'life, no I have not. Ah, we'll just be havin' to make due with the stuff we be havin' here, eh? Don't you worry...this is a good sword...I be makin' it better than it was before! Aye, better than better!"
"How much will it be, old friend?" Ahrima asked.
"Ah," Ith said, waving him away. "This one be on the house, Ahrima, man. This be the most amazing blade I've seen! And, you be my good friend, that you are." Ith smiled, white teeth gleaming. "Come back in a day or two and I'll show you a good sword...I'll even be throwin' in a good sheath for you, too, young Fidaya!"
Airaen, bowing, turned and followed her master out.
"Goddess!" Airaen cried as she saw the blade, held respectfully in Ith's hands. Beautifully forged in a milky green metal, the blade looked like something not of their land; it was an inch longer than the original Master Sword. Traced around the edge were intricate carvings and signs. Grasping it by the hilt, she lifted it upward, marveling at its lightness, yet sturdiness. "What are these carvings?" she asked upon bringing it closer to her face.
"Runes in the ancient language," Ahrima said from behind her. "These runes here stand for 'steadfast.' This one here stands for 'wisdom.' This one is 'courage.'"
"And that one be 'sunset,'" Ith said, coming over to them to point at the rune in the very center of the blade. "I be knowin' of the Sheikah language, Airaen, and I be thinkin' that, since this one here be your blade, you ought to have had your name carved in there." He grinned, then drew out a beautiful sheath of the same color as the blade. "This one be for you."
Airaen bowed. "Thank you, sir, for this wonderful sword. I'll use it well," she said.
"After you learn how to use it properly," Ahrima said, sheathing the sword for her. She nodded, then buckled it across her back; it felt right on her, a familiar weight.
"Now, Fidaya," Ahrima said, "the real training begins."
Though they had stayed at the village for a bit over a week, the familiar beach seemed just as beautiful and homely as before. Airaen hid a smile, feeling the warm sand under her feet as she made her way over to Ahrima's shack. "Wait here," he said, climbing the rickety stairs and disappearing into the shack.
He returned later bearing strange articles of clothing. "These," he said, showing wristbands, anklebands, and a purple sash, "will help you with your speed. Put them on. Careful now...they're heavy."
"Goddess!" she cried as she put them on, finding it hard to move with the added weight.
"Get used to it, Fidaya! You'll be wearing this for the next year. I told you this would be difficult. Now you understand: a fighter must be superior in all aspects. Speed is your weakness. Make every weakness a strength!"
Wrapping the sash around her, Airaen said, "Yes, Master." Though her walking was now labored, she picked up her staff she had placed in the sand and got ready.
&&
Chappie 24!! Chappie 24!! Yay! Review review review!!!!! PLEASE! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!