Tales of the Island Symphony

by Light Onthemayo

With Cunimincus and his demonic crew gone, the search is on again for Irleen's home. The following stories have NOTHING to do with that search. This is a series featuring the crew of the Island Symphony at their looniest (mostly), detailing events that may or may not have happened during and after Sky Lines.

11. Line Discovers Duct Tape

NOTICE: The following section is not canon. The anachronisms featured in this story are too much even for The Legend of Zelda.

…

Link stirred and groaned that he was awake and the sun was shining through the window. He hated that the sun had to wake him. He hated that the stern was pointed at the sunrise. He loved being the captain, though, so he grabbed the covers and attempted to roll over.

Attempted.

His hand slipped off the covers, and this resulted in his knuckles busting him in the chin. "Dah—!" he began to shout before he clapped his mouth shut.

This still woke Irleen, who rose from her bed. "Link?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"M'fine," he groaned as he rubbed his jaw. He looked down at the comforter. "Wha…?"

Only a few inches of the comforter were left bare. The rest of the comforter was covered in thin straps of silver material overlapping across the bed in a sheet of their own. The sheet was tight enough that Link was mostly pinned to the bed, but it also had a bit of give so that Link would not notice it right away. The edge against the wall had been tucked around the bed while the opposite edge adhered to the wooden frame on the outside. Link tested the sheet's strength by tugging on the comforter again.

Then he let out a sigh as someone peering into his cabin from the door started sniggering aloud. "Line!" he shouted as he started tugging the tape off the outside of the bed.

…

Tale #11: "Line Discovers Duct Tape"

…

"All hands on deck! All hands on deck!"

Leynne had been focused on a mechanical text when the call, which sounded like Line's voice, was made. Once the voice registered through all the notes he was trying to mentally jot down, he scrambled to his feet and knocked his chair over. Lately, the call for all hands required the crew to show up in their tunics, so he sprang toward his closet and pulled out the blue tunic he kept ready on the top shelf. Then he ripped the door open so that he could sprint out into the galley and onto the deck.

"Gaw!"

His face was smothered by an obstruction waiting in the doorframe. With his momentum even from the beginning steps of his run, the whole sensation felt remarkably like being punched in the head. His feet flew ahead of him, and, before he could register any sort of orientation—BAM!—he landed flat on his back on the deck. The whiplash from the impact caused his neck to snap back, and his skull struck the deck hard. He had actually managed to leave the room; he lay on the deck in the small hallway connecting the chiefs' quarters to the galley. His tunic, which he had thrown when he had started to fall, landed next to him. Dubbl and Cale, who had been in their own quarters, paused inside their own doorways when they saw Leynne lying on the floor in front of them.

Line, standing at the end of the hallway, collapsed to his knees with laughter, which finally became audible as a full-blown guffaw as Leynne slowly propped himself onto his elbows. Leynne's confusion was settled when Line dropped onto his side with laughter.

"Line," Leynne breathed with a voice full of loathing. "You utteh pillock…" The use of the pejorative only served to worsen Line's fit of laughter, possibly because Line did not even know what the word meant.

…

Layna would have been fine not knowing that Line had discovered a new toy.

"Yah-hah! Hu-wah!"

Not that Line had the sort of restraint to keep away from her.

Believing that Layna could do little against duct tape, he had wrapped layer after layer of duct tape over an old tunic, an old bodysuit, a pair of gloves he had swiped from one of the engine crew, and a bucket. What resulted was a thick set of clothes which made movement noticeably difficult and a bucket with a strap to hold it under his chin, the very definition of "self-made armor". While Line knew there was risk in leaving his face and part of his neck exposed, he also trusted that Layna would do nothing but stab him with a needle to drop him to the deck.

So he went on taunting her, "C'mon, Layna. I bet you can't stab me through this. C'mon, let's see those assassin moves get through seven layers of duct tape. Show me, bitch!"

An observer might have noticed the skeptical look Layna gave. It would have been much more warning than Line had noticed before she switched to "Kill Mode" in the next second. And, in that same second, she balled one hand and used the small space in between the two of them to deliver a short, powerful blow. Line had not counted on how much force she could deliver at such a short distance nor really seemed to understand that she could easily channel the blow through the seven layers of duct tape into his chest since the duct tape had no sort of give to cushion impacts.

Instead, Line felt the air leave his lungs so fast that he could not breathe back in immediately. The pain she had inflicted made breathing in afterwards even more difficult. Without air, Line spun and fell flat on the deck, although he was likely unconscious before he landed.

…

Line stood on the forward railing of the poop deck overlooking the rest of the ship. Above him, wrapped around the top of the Island Symphony's banner pole, a stretch of duct tape connected to the railing on the back of the forecastle. They had tried to make the line of duct tape as tight as possible, but it still had enough slack that Line was worried he might hit the railing in front of the quarterdeck.

"Um… Line," Cale spoke up as he surveyed the scene. "I don't think this to be the best of ideas. Do you think you can hold until you reach the main deck?"

Line flung the loose end of a length of rope over the line of tape and caught it with his free hand. He gave the rope a couple of tugs and looked down the line again. "I'm a career airman," he told Cale over his shoulder. "These hands are made to hold rope. I just hope I make it past that rail down there."

"Can you lift youhself on the rope?"

Line looked up and wrapped the loose end of the rope around his hand. This forced him to stand on his toes. "How's this look?"

"Dangerous."

"Oh, come on. This stuff is solid. Meet you on the deck!" Line then used one foot to push against the pole. Without the rail underneath him, all his weight fell onto the duct tape.

While the line of duct tape was technically wrapped around the top of the pole, this was only in the realm of definitions that included the single break in the loop being in the same location. Line dropped heavily onto the tape, and the end of the tape on the outside of the loop tore free. In the following split-second, Line's weight combined with the adhesive desperately trying to hold the other end of the loop caused the other end to rip free of the pole. The inevitable conclusion dropped Line to the quarterdeck on his back with a great slam. Crew that had paused their activities to ponder the line of duct tape snapped attention toward the quarterdeck. Link, having decided to settle down early, wandered out of his cabin and turned to look up at the quarterdeck as well. Cale leaned over the rail of the poop deck to locate Line.

"You know what, Cale?" Line spoke as clearly as one could after having all the air in his lungs knocked out from a fall. He raised a hand to point at Cale. "Bite me."

…

Link had had enough. This was apparent as he threw open the door to his cabin. His boots resounded against the deck, nearly audible should anyone be in the cargo hold below, even though all he was doing was moving from the doorway to his footlocker. He threw open the lid. And he removed his sword.

Outside, tension suddenly mounted as the deck crew watched him step out and cast the sheath aside. Twali moved aside so that Link could storm by. Leynne's movement was a little more casual, a simple back-step to give Link room.

Link did not even give Line a chance. Once he was in range, he swung the sword.

And cut one of two strips of duct tape holding Line's makeshift hammock to the boom of the port mizzen-mast. Line did not have a chance to cry out, having fallen asleep earlier in the day. His head hit the deck, providing him a shock into alertness. Seeing Link standing above him with a sword in his hand made Line flip over and run for the stairs before Link found something else to cut apart.

…

No one was really sure what Line was doing. All they knew was someone wearing a silver mask and a matching cape ran from the girls' berths and up onto the main deck. In one hand, he held a pair of red underpants which did not look to cover very much. Speculation said that they belonged to Dholit; the Gelto never seemed to admit which of their pilfered undergarments belonged to whom. Nor did the rest of the crew really get a straight answer when Lwamm stepped from behind the starboard mizzen-mast and clotheslined him so that she could take the underpants back. She also relieved him of the duct tape mask and cape so that there was no doubt it had been Line once again.

…

Flower generally did not fear sleeping without a shirt on. Line made him rethink that habit.

Flower was also an incredibly sound sleeper. Line had once fallen out of his own berth and landed hard on the deck, an act that had warranted little more than an irate snort. This left Line with the thought that he could do anything to Flower without having to worry about him waking up. With a single strip of duct tape, Line decided to test this theory. The beginning of this experiment was probably the most nerve-wrecking as he carefully placed the tape on Flower's hairy chest. This included Flower's left nipple. Line had to bite on his fist to keep from laughing. He gently pressed down on the tape to ensure that he had caught all the hair he could.

Lawrence stirred and flipped over. When he saw what Line was doing, his first instinct was to cover his ears. It turned out to be a good idea because, one second later—

Kshhhh!

"GYAAAAAAAAAAH!" The voice that came out of the older airman sounded more like a little girl's. Flower flailed and dumped himself out of the hammock and onto the floor just as Line slipped out of the way. He rolled and pushed himself up on one hand while he covered the assaulted nipple with the other. "GODDESSES ABOVE, WHAT THE F—!" Flower cut himself off as he saw Line flee down the narrow hallway. "LINE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" he roared as he rose to his feet to chase Line. "I'M GONNA RIP OUT YOUR SPINE AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT! GET BACK HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Captain! Save me!" Line cried out as Lawrence, now laughing out loud, rolled himself out of his hammock.

…

Leynne glanced up when he heard someone grunting nearby. His head swiveled as he tried to find the source, sharing a confused look with Gold in the process. Then he strode forward until he had a clear view of the beakhead. Cale was tugging at a silvery lid covering the head.

A lid made of duct tape. And wrapped to a ridiculous degree around the lip of the head so that it was nigh impossible to pry off. Leynne was about to suggest that Cale use the other head only to see that it had also been closed off by duct tape.

So he sighed and resigned himself to hollering, "Liiiiiine!"

…

As Dubbl dragged her tired and sore body into her quarters, she threw her work gloves on the desk. The jacket she wore to protect herself from the winds on-deck had already fallen down to her elbows, so she slipped it off and dropped it in the foot of her wardrobe. She was not looking when she spun around and fell onto the bed.

Which is partially why she missed it.

Instead, she landed hard on her butt and smacked her skull against the bulkhead while her legs flailed to balance her on a surface she did not expect. She caught herself before she hit the floor, one hand holding her up while the other rubbed her head. Her eyes wandered the floor. But instead of her furniture, she found that mats of dirt took up the floor space. Her gloves, her jacket, and her bottom all rested where she had swept the dust and gravel she had tracked in, the only clues to where her furniture had last been seen. It started a bout of frustration, and she heaved a sigh as she glanced up at the deckhead to ask any all-knowing force for guidance.

Then she felt her frustration turn into utter shock. Her furniture hung from the ceiling, its placement mirroring the original layout. Fears that the furniture might fall were alleviated by the copious amounts of duct tape across the surfaces of both the wardrobe and the desk. The presence of duct tape on the bed was not as apparent; instead, the prankster had made and taped her sheets to the bed in mockery of her while also covering up the tape.

Dubbl's shock gave way to anger, and she snatched her jacket up as she left again. "Line!" she hollered as she began to crack her knuckles one by one.

…

In one of the few instances where Sello dared to venture out of the engine room (besides to use the… well, no, not even to use the head; he took care of that problem months ago), he located something shiny in the cargo hold. His first instinct was to lick it. It tasted metallic, but not at all like a machine should taste. For some reason, it tasted like clothing to him, rather like he had licked his own bottom. Not that he had done it before, but he had once taken off his orange utility suit so he could lick it clean. That was what it reminded him of.

In one of the overlapping ribbons on top, he located a paper that read "To: Sello, From: The Crew". Or something like that. From Sello's point-of-view, that last bit looked more like "Touch the three-rupee platypus". But these matters were hard for him to understand, being well into his usual state of advanced inebriation. In either case, it seemed clear to him that he should open it, because it was box-shaped, and box-shaped things carried not-box-shaped things. Bottles of his desired vice were not-box-shaped things, too. And not-box-shaped things were bottles of alcohol. Or a frog, because that was also a not-box-shaped thing. But not-box-shaped things were not frogs. Therefore, he should open it because the light bulb overhead was on.

He was thankful that he did not have to explain his logic to anyone nearby. He had a strong feeling that they would not really understand.

He carefully circled the box in search of some way of opening it. The silver bands were closely-woven together, and he could not find a seam to indicate a lid or even a separation between the stronger members underneath the silver. He licked it again to be sure that the bands were not metal. He still was not sure. So he located a crate nearby and tore the top free so he could dive into it head-first. Sniggering sounded from the stairs, but this hardly interested Sello as he emerged from the crate with a shovel in his hand.

He then spun to the silver box and proceeded to pummel the top with the shovel. Someone fell out of the stairs. However, Sello continued to strike the box, even letting out a barbaric war cry of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" that bounced in intensity with each impact. When he was done, he pressed the head of the shovel against the deck and leaned on it as if he was casually examining the box.

The top had collapsed. The edge in front of him had also broken under his attack. Some of the silver bands had come loose. He dropped the shovel and pulled one of the bands away from the box. Kek ke-kek kek. The strange sound it made caused him to chuckle. Kek ke-ke-kek.

"Heh heh."

Ke-ke-ke-ke-kek.

"Heh heh heh."

Soon, Sello was running circles around the box just to see how long he could keep making the sound, all the while laughing with idiotic abandon like the simple moron the crew thought he was. He was not even paying attention to the fact that he was unraveling the box; he just liked the sound that much. Not even that weirdo falling out of the stairs again could interrupt him. He continued even when the bands were unraveling from the top of the crate, something which his long arms allowed him to keep up with.

The fun stopped when the other end snapped free. This was also the same time that Sello realized that he had tangled the silvery stuff around his legs, although this was not readily apparent to him until he fell face-first onto the deck. Even then, he had to fight through the minor concussion in order to tell what had happened. Once he stood back up, he discovered that, without the silver bands, the shiny thing was a simple, wooden crate. Still, Sello had reasoned that he should open it, so he fit his fingers into the space between the busted lid and the intact side of the crate and pried it open.

He looked inside to discover that there was an object on the bottom that looked like a bottle covered in silver bands. He leaned inside it, and the crate tipped over and fell onto its side while dropping Sello's legs against the deck. This only improved Sello's chances as he grabbed the exposed neck of the bottle. He pulled, but he found that the silver bands were holding the bottle tightly against the bottom of the crate. So Sello braced his knees against the side edges of the crate and pulled again. Tzzzzzzzzzzit! The bands let out an incredible rip as they pulled away from the crate. Sello removed himself from the crate and stood to his full height, bottle raised in triumph that not even the little man laughing near the stairs could take away from him. Remembering the rip, he used his free hand to probe his behind to make sure he had not torn his suit.

He used the edge of the crate to strike the wax around the cork stopper until it came loose. Then, against anyone else's better judgment, he used his teeth to pry the stopper out the rest of the way. Pop! He spat the cork aside and put his lips to the top just as bubbly alcohol rose free of the bottle.

He chugged on the bottle a couple of times until he was sure it had stopped flowing. Then, with a pop!, he removed his mouth from the bottle. He looked affectionately at the bottle and uttered, "Llama, my llama."

…

"My Captain, My Captain!"

Link groaned and covered his face with a hand as he heard Dholit approach. Her voice carried a sense of urgency, but Link could not help being skeptical about her need.

"My Captain, Aihman Line left duct tape on the head, and I need help removing the tape from my posterioh."

He was right.

When he turned to address the issue, he had to back up a step as Dholit thrust her hip in his direction. And, indeed, there were strips of duct tape on her bottom arranged to match the square shape of the head. However, Link was thoroughly unimpressed with her plight, mostly due to one fact that made her situation look more like a farce.

"Dholit, you've still got your trousers up," he told her in a flat voice. "Were you expecting to use the head through your trousers?"

"Why, My Captain, what a dihty mind you have!" Dholit told him as she watched over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. "Expose myself to the crew?"

"Please. Like modesty stops you."

Dholit put on a pensive look. "Quite right, indeed, My Captain," she replied as she shook her rear at him. "Shall I remove my pants foh the benefit of youh pahsonal inspection?"

"No!" Link snapped. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth and looked around. His annoyed cry attracted attention from both Biluf and Leynne, standing just within earshot. He dared to lean closer and told her in a lower voice, "Go down to the berth deck and take it off yourself."

"Oh, but, My Captain!" Dholit said as she finally turned to face him instead of show off her rear end. "My dignity is in jeopahdy! If I cannot ask My Captain to relieve me of my tribulation, I feel myself undesehving to be a membah of youh crew. I ask but this one kindness free of obligation oh debt. Please, My Captain?"

Link gave a sigh. "All right," he told her. "Let me see your butt."

Dholit gasped, one hand held to her chest. "Oh, My Captain, how vulgah!"

"Wha-what!?" Link cried out, immediately flustered. "N-no, I-I didn't mean—"

"I like it."

Link stopped stammering so he could glare at her. "Just turn around."

"As My Captain wishes," she answered as she turned her back to him. Link tried not to look like he was staring as he examined the duct tape. He took the corner of one strip in two fingers and tugged. "Ohm."

"Dholit," Link griped.

Dholit giggled and told him, "My apologies, My Captain. I find myself rathah tendah in that area."

"Just… don't make any more sounds like that," Link told her.

"Yes, My Captain," Dholit replied as she bent forward slightly. Link decided to try to make this as quick as possible and, in preparation to tear the tape free of her trousers, placed his hand squarely and solidly on her right cheek. "Ha-ooooh~!" Dholit howled as she jumped.

"Dholit!" Link whined as he pulled his hands back.

"Captain!" Leynne finally called out. Link looked over at him. "Should you like us to go about ouh business, oh would you ratheh us wait until you take youh activities behind closed doohs?"

Link glanced back at Dholit as she started giggling. "Oh, forget it!" he declared, throwing his arms up in defeat. He stormed toward the bow while hollering, "Line! I'm gonna kick your ass! Dholit doesn't need any sort of help from you!"

…

Tale #11 of the Island Symphony – END

NOTICE: This is not, I repeat, not canon. Duct tape does not exist in Hyrule. The closest they have is "moose tape". And that was because Sello decided to rename glue.