To the two gentlefolk who kindly sent a review yesterday: I didn't delete them! They just refuse to show up, at least on my end. Apparently that happens from time to time, it should be fixed within a few days…
Chapter 19
Link
Out of the hospital and hopefully never back! That infernal nurse had insisted that he stay past dinner and his tries to resist seemed to only grant her diabolic glee. The doctor had come once more today, had made a grudging comment about the ludicrous healing ability of youth and had stalked off again without even looking Link in the eyes once. The she dragon persistently protested that he could not possibly be 'released' yet. He had tried to explain to her, in a vain attempt at reasoning, that this was no prison he could be 'released' from. From a hospital you are discharged, he elucidated, which had earned him a motherly smile of ultimate evil. After he had wolfed the fatty gloop they called dinner he grabbed his meagre belongings and ran.
He had to admit though, the physician had a point. What had yesterday been a painful sting at his shoulder was now merely an annoyingly strong itch. More than once he had already raised his hand to scratch his back, only to refrain at the last second when his brain deigned to do a little bit of thinking.
His chest was still sore, though he suspected that was mostly due to yesterday's nearly orgiastic laughing fit. If a little tenderness was the price for that experience, he was more than happy to pay double.
The thought of that magnificent shared moment still made him grin like a loon. He wasn't kidding when he said they were probably both completely insane. Who else would act like that? Still, if insanity was this enjoyable and he could share it with Zelda, he wouldn't have it any other way.
However… he was still pretty cross with himself. It had once again been a night full of aimless rumination.
Why in all three goddesses' names had he hesitated? Just… why?!
He had recalled that one moment again and again. With hindsight on his side now it had been so obvious! She kept standing so close he could have just bent down and he would have been right there! Her stunning sky blue eyes had been darting from his eyes to his mouth and she had been anxiously biting her own full, beautifully curved lips. When Link thought about how utterly, utterly unmistakable it had been, he wanted to slap himself! The one time he clearly should have listened to his body… but no, his moronic brain had to overthink it!
'What if you misjudge her completely?'
'What if she's just being friendly?'
'What if she'll be shocked and you'll have ruined everything?' Link mocked his inner voice. He was such a complete bloody idiot!
He stopped his brisk walk, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He ignored the young made that had nearly bumped into him for suddenly halting and now gave him a look as if he'd gone insane.
Let. It. Rest. Damn it.
Even though he'd ruined that chance – and probably looked like an utter wimp in her eyes – she had agreed to meet again. That surely meant that not all was lost, right? If you thought about it, she probably hasn't too much experience with all that… boy and girl… nonsense either. Right?!
He continued on his way, now that he got his rampaging thoughts to take a breather. What's past is past. Now he'll look forward to their next meeting.
The thought gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. Slightly inappropriate for the sword fighting lesson, he had to admit. As much as he looked forward to seeing her afterwards – and it was quite a lot – he had to focus on other things now. Link had absolutely no idea what expected him during Sir Alistair's tutelage. But he certainly did not want to make a bad impression, mostly since it would reflect badly on Sir Russel. The thought of starting a new tuition with another teacher was an uncomfortable one. He almost felt as if he was about to abandon his old mentor. Thankfully he'd had the opportunity to talk it through with him. Sir Russel of course mimed the gruff old bear who was glad to be rid of a pesky young 'whippersnapper' but it was an obvious act. He'd also told him that, if Link were to decline the blademaster's offer, he didn't want to continue teaching him anyway, since he'd have to be a complete imbecile. The old knight had said that he couldn't remember the man ever giving private lessons.
Link wasn't so sure that it had been an 'offer'. First of all, he was a knight-aspirant now, which meant that Sir Alistair was a direct superior and a very high one at that. Secondly, the manner in which he had 'offered' the tutelage had been very odd. Visiting him personally in the hospital while he no doubt had all his hands full with restoring order? Asking him what he knew about the incident without suspecting him of anything? That unsettling comment about staying on his guard because the king had plans for him? It all didn't make much sense. He would have to cautiously pry more information from him, which did not sound like the most pleasant endeavour.
The closer Link got to the knights' compound, the more uncomfortable he felt. More and more he sensed prying eyes on him. Stares of mild curiosity from the elders, some gazes with poorly veiled hostility from the young ones. He certainly did not feel like he belonged here. Many different groups of squires and aspirants were standing about, each and everyone older than him. They all glanced at him, some surreptitiously, most of them openly. They all wore far finer garb than he did. Almost all of them had the haughty sneer he had come to expect from nobility. They were not happy he was here… Many probably took him for a servant, delivering a sword to one of his 'betters'.
Link knew it was stupid and useless, but he still felt offended. While there was no law against commoners becoming knights, none whatsoever, it still was a rare occurrence. People who had to work for a living usually couldn't afford the time to become capable enough with sword or bow and they seldom had acquaintances who might aid them. So, once again, noble youths had an immense advantage. Link frowned at the injustice of it all. He only had this opportunity because his family was relatively rich. If André had had true need for his help, he'd never have been allowed to leave Ord. But he was here and he won the tourney and he'd saved the princess and, Link was almost sure, they all knew that. And he worried them.
'Good!' Link thought with a grim smile. Let them worry! I have already jumped past all you squires and it wasn't because my daddy has a lot of influence. Link decided that he would accept their offensive stares and draw a fierce satisfaction from them. If his mere presence already angered those noble dunces, he must be doing something right!
He'd still have to be careful though. Angry people make mistakes, as Sir Russel kept saying. If too many angry people made the same mistake, attacking him for example, it could get ugly very quickly. And he had no delusions that, in case of a quarrel, it was going to be him who would be held responsible by the equally poncy seniors. Tread carefully, but with confidence!
Link was about to enter the rough stone barracks when a young man stepped in front of him. He was about 18 or 19, short brown hair and next to no chin.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?" he snarled.
Link had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Here we go…
"I am knight-aspirant Link Andrésson and I am expected by blademaster Alistair." he said calmly, knowing it wouldn't help.
The taller lad started to laugh loudly. It sounded extremely forced. He obviously just wanted to make him uncomfortable.
Link had occasionally talked to soldiers who passed through Ord. Some of them had spoken about what the senior soldiers had done to them when they were new and inexperienced. Some of those initiation rituals had been downright nasty. This was clearly something of a similar nature.
The door-guard seemed to end his little spectacle of disingenuous laughing. Possibly because, Link noticed with some surprise, not too many were actually paying attention.
"Ahh, that's a good one. Did you get lost on your way to the servant entrance, boy?" he asked in mock helpfulness.
Link frowned and slowly shook his head. "How very creative! Is that the question they asked you on your first day here? Does it feel as good as you had hoped?" Link questioned with a bored voice.
Clearly not the answer Chinless had been expecting, for his already rather dull expression dimmed considerably.
'That wasn't smart…' Link scolded himself. He should have just stayed completely unemotional and correct. Now the only thing the dimwit could do to save his honour was to take it to a physical level. Link readied himself for anything the guy might do once he had figured it out. This wasn't going particularly well…
"Let him through, Gant! He is who he says he is." a strangely high voice said behind him.
Link turned and saw Gors of house Gorridan, his rival in the tourney finals. He was glad to see him; he seemed a straight sort of noble, if such a thing existed.
"You don't get to tell me who I let through, Squire!" the older lad snarled, raising his finger menacingly at Gors.
"Then I challenge you to duel. Right now." He said levelly.
Link could see Chinless's attempt to figure out this complex equation translated on his face. 'Fight against duelling finalist who is 4 years younger and possibly losing equals Not good!'
"Fine. It's on your head if servant boy here causes any trouble though."
With a sour look for each of them he stepped out of the way.
Link knew it was foolish, but hearing this idiot call him 'servant boy' still stung. Not on personal level, of course, you also don't get offended by a four year old calling you 'dummy'. But the general inequity of it all just rubbed him the wrong way.
The two even-aged lads went inside.
He didn't know whether Gors could tell that Link was quietly fuming, but he said in an unusual display of talkativeness: "That was just Gant. He did the same thing with me yesterday. He probably really doesn't know who you are. Probably the only one."
Link looked at the larger boy with the unfitting voice, slightly surprised. He had to imagine what he must go through, cursed with that painful falsetto. And, unlike himself, the young noble could do nothing to change it. He felt a sudden sympathy and, he had to admit, a new level of respect. Gors did not show any outward uncertainty. Either it truly didn't bother him, or he just didn't let it get to the surface. "How do you deal with it?" Link asked on a whim. He realized right away that this question could go horribly wrong and he might anger his (possibly) only ally.
Gors slowed and looked at him, clear surprise on his normally impassive features. Link was about to apologize for the inappropriate question when a tiny, understanding smile graced his round face. "Years and years of practice." He simply said. Link nodded, sombrely. It had been a stupid question, but he had gotten an honest answer. The larger lad had apparently understood his sincere intentions, born from uncertainty about the new situation.
Who knows? He might actually make a friend among the nobility. Link found that a slightly amusing thought. He would have to readjust his opinion of the higher classes… that would take some time and effort!
Gors' fleeting willingness for conversation seemed exhausted. He gave a slow nod, then walked away before Link could ask him where the sparring room was.
'Oddball', he thought, more amused than derogatory.
Link steeled himself for more confrontations as he moved on but to his surprise, none came. People stared, some conversations in the corridors turned noticeably more hushed as he walked by, but no-one got in his way. He even asked one of the friendlier looking lads for direction and got them promptly.
Hmm! Maybe that Gant fellow at the door had been a singular occurrence? Link wasn't convinced but maybe, once the novelty had worn off, he could just coexist.
He found thick oaken door to the sparring room. He wasn't quite sure what to do now. Should he just enter? Was he expected to wait until Sir Alistair came? Knocking seemed idiotic; if people were sparring inside, nobody would hear or care. Link hoped that no-one would come by while he stood frozen in front of a closed door like an idiot.
He decided to risk it and go in.
Inside was a huge hall, big enough for four standard tournament squares. Link marvelled at the architecture. The centre stone pillar was adorned with iron thorns jutting menacingly outwards. It held the domed stone roof that was painted with many different scenes of battle, some between armies of men, others between hylian and monster. There were large windows on three sides of the hall, flooding it with enough light that torches weren't needed. The walls too were painted. Link immediately identified the high forms of swordmastery, detailed step by step. Above the illustrations hung hundreds of swords in their scabbards. Some were simple, others were embellished and ornamented like an old duchess' dressing gown; pointlessly cluttered not helping the horrible total impression.
The room was mostly empty. In the back Link spotted Sir Alistair in the middle of a gaggle of young men, squires probably. Two of them were sparring, with the blademaster refereeing. He could hear him wheeze instructions. "Quicker! I said jabs only, I want to see fast, abrupt motions, not heavy swings! His guard's too high, punish him for it. To slow, damn it, now he's corrected it."
Link approached, trying to be noticed by the blademaster, and at the same time remain unobtrusive. Each and every one of the lads tunics was finer than anything Link had ever owned. Again, he felt painfully out of place, like a thorn in someone's foot. He tried to reason with himself, that he had been invited here, that he had already proven that he belonged here, but there was always that part of him that didn't quite believe it.
A few of the nobles had noticed him and scrutinized him dismissively. Link didn't pay them any attention, he was more focused on the duel in the middle. It wasn't all that impressive, he concluded. The combatant with his back to him lunged and jabbed his opponent once in the side, then quickly to the side of the head. The stricken swordsman fell on his backside out of sheer surprise, then cursed very colourfully.
"Two clean hits." the referee rasped, without much conviction.
"Sir Alistair, sir!" one of the boys in the crowd spoke up. His voice seemed more oily than a blade to be put into storage. "Konrad was clearly just distracted by that boy." He regarded Link like you would a mouldy apple.
"Konrad is a fool, then, for letting himself be distracted." the blademaster retorted sternly. "No-one will give a damn about distractions during a duel and I certainly won't either. Konrad is the loser and Firenz ascends in rank."
Then he pointed a hand towards Link. "You, step away! Do not interrupt again these young gentlemen have left." he growled.
Link frowned but turned and walked to the other end of the room. He felt very vexed. He had not 'interrupted' anything! If they couldn't hold their focus on someone waving a stick in their face, they deserved to get whacked! And now he had been sent off like a disobedient child to stand in the corner!
He thought he had caught a sarcastic inflection on the word 'gentlemen' but with the blademaster's croaking voice, it was exceedingly hard to tell.
Had he been wrong about the man? When he had met him previously, he had seemed like an honourable, fair man with a no-nonsense attitude. A man Link could respect… had that judgement been in error? Would he, too, let him feel his low birth at every turn?
Link quietly fumed, reading the plaques under the swords without great interest. When the 'gentlemen' finally sodded off, he approached the man who would be his teacher again, his anger letting him forget his inhibitions. He strode past the sneering older boys and addressed the old knight.
"I am here, blademaster, as ordered. Though apparently I have made a mistake in showing my commoner face to these young gentlemen." Link said in a vitriolic manner. Right now his temper would not allow him to play nice. If he was a knight-aspirant he would damn well be treated as such.
Sir Alistair only raised an eyebrow. "You did indeed come earlier than expected. I thought I would be done with this lesson before you arrive. Is there anything you would like to say?" he wheezed levelly.
'Quite a few things, actually!' Link thought bitterly. Aloud he asked: "Why, if you agree to teach me privately, do you treat me like something to be tossed aside when some noble brats are watching? I can not remember Sir Russel ever being ashamed of being my mentor, Sir." He chose his words carefully, not accusing him of anything directly, but instead comparing him to his old master.
The aging man showed an amused grin. Almost playful, really, which didn't quite fit with the rest of his appearance at all.
"You are correct. They cannot be allowed to see me teaching you." he said with a hoarse chuckle.
Link took a deep breath. He had expected this, he told himself. He would have to take it like a man and simply become too good to be scoffed at like this.
"I will, in the future, endeavour not to embarrass you in front of your students again, blademaster." He said icily, staring straight at his grey eyes.
The knight held his gaze with his own cold stare for a few seconds.
Then he cracked and laughed a weird sounding, croaking cackle that, despite everything, seemed genuine to Link.
"Embarrass me? Link, you misunderstand." He removed the scabbard with his own training blade from his belt, looked at it briefly and threw it carelessly into the corner where it clattered against the wall.
"I teach those prancing little pants-wetters the colourful and gentlemanly art of the duel, with its sporting limitations and proscriptions against dishonourable engagements." he rasped in disgust, stepping closer.
"You, on the other hand," he said and gave Link a firm poke on his forehead. "will learn how to kill with a sword!"
Link was stunned. The blademaster had pulled his leg. That old, scary, stern bastard had just been screwing with him.
The utter shock at that sheer impossible event had blown out his anger and he had to suppress a relieved giggle. Laughing at what he had just been told really didn't seem appropriate.
Sir Alistair turned and walked away slowly. "I apologize for that disagreeable mummery. But the king was very frank. The training you receive here is special and it will serve a special purpose. Let these buffoons think whatever they want. After the little show we just gave them, they won't even consider that I am training you far beyond what I'd ever teach their brainless carcasses." he mused aloud.
Link felt a nice balm of satisfaction on his chafed self-esteem at his words. But the repeated mentioning of the king and his plans troubled him.
"Sir, what is this purpose the king has for me?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite managing.
"If I knew, I'd tell you, lad. Truly. I do not like this any more than you. Gifted though you might be, you're still very young. You shouldn't be burdened beyond your years." the knight wheezed with as much kindness as you could expect from a voice like his. "The king is not someone who enjoys secrets and mystery. I expect you will be told soon, what this is all about."
Link didn't feel very reassured, but he believed the man. With a sudden pang of guilt he realized how easily he had discounted the knight as 'just another one of them'.
"…I too need to apologize, blademaster. I let my anger get the better of me and I was unnecessarily rude." Link said sincerely.
Sir Alistair looked at him, nodded curtly, then, with a small grunt, made a dismissive gesture. "If that were all it took to offend me… it did give me a precious bit of insight into you though, lad." he rasped and crossed his arms. "You're hot headed. Not necessarily a problem, if you control it. Passion can give a man great strength, if it is reigned by the mind. Your exploits are an excellent example, lad. You were certainly passionate… but you're also still alive, which suggests that your brain has not ceased all function during the crisis. Every Bokoblin can fall into blood rage. Few men can walk the brink between hot fervour and cold calculation. Whether you have found that fine line by accident or by choice is something we'll find out during training."
Link listened intently. He could immediately tell that this man knew what he was talking about. He had effortlessly put into words what Link had been trying to achieve in every duel he'd had. The really interesting part would come, however, when they left the theory behind and Sir Alistair demonstrated the true extent of his skill.
As if on cue, the aging knight said: "We've already dawdled enough with philosophy. Time to get our hands dirty. Walk over to the chest and open it."
Link did as ordered. It was an enormous box of worm-ridden wood, at least two and half metres in length. The lid alone must have weighed ten kilos. Inside Link saw an assortment of weapons that would fill every boy's heart with glee. Dozens of different swords in all a wide variety of shapes, many sizes and designs of lance and spear, a few blunt weapons… a whole carnival of jagged edges, spikes and blades! Link could hardly take his eyes off it all.
"Grab it all and dump it on the floor, quickly now!" the blademaster barked.
Link looked at him in confusion for a second, then grabbed an armful of stuff and, upon nodded confirmation from his new teacher, he dropped it on the floor with ear-piercing clatter. He repeated the process until the chest was empty. All the while, Sir Alistair had produced a range of shields and laid them out close to the heap of metal.
"Now, pick!" the old man commanded.
Link saw where this was going. He was given the choice between any weapon he could find and then, armed to the teeth, he'd probably receive his arse-kicking.
Well, in that case…
Link turned on his heel, walked towards the spot where he'd stashed his own sword and picked it up. He was about to say he was done, but thought better of it. He took a look at the twelve different shields on display. One seemed taller than he was, and probably heavier… In the end he picked a small wooden heater shield that wouldn't hamper his mobility too much. He swung the piece of wood on his right arm around, trying to adjust his balance.
Ric, Mart and he had, of course, practiced with 'shields' back in Ord, when they were children. More than once he'd nabbed one of his mother's pot lids and more than once she'd administered a firm hiding to his buttocks.
Duelling didn't allow shields, so he was quite unused to them. Still, it seemed like the perfect time to rectify this. A little added protection would certainly come in handy.
"Done!" he said firmly.
Sir Alistair had followed his choices with an amused expression. "Smart boy. Seems like I won't have to do too much work on your common sense. Also, not a bad choice of shield. I thought you'd prefer the arming sword and shield style. Always heed your first choice, especially in matters of combat. You need not confine yourself to these hunches but keep them in your mind, still." he instructed. The blademaster walked over to the pile and surveyed it critically, as if searching for something. "The problem that you are currently having, lad, is that you know only one type of opponent. Well, that is. Let's see…" he bent down and pulled a simple, long spear out of the heap. Then he turned back and looked Link fiercely in the eyes. "Right, let's begin."
Link was about to draw his sword, but then remembered. That sword was sharp! He had checked the other weapons and they were all blunted.
"Sir Alistair, my sword is…" he didn't get farther. The blademaster danced over the clutter of metal and thrust the spear right at Link's chest. Out of instinct he yanked the shield to his middle and jumped to his right. He deflected the spear tip, barely, but he nearly sprained his ankle when he landed on one of the shields. Sir Alistair was already there. He used Link's momentary lack of balance and rammed the butt of the spear right at his face. He, once again, had to rip his shield up to block, this time not deflecting but taking the brunt of the attack on his right arm. His shoulder stung in protest, but he couldn't pay attention to that now. He nearly stumbled as he was pushed back, but regained sure footing quickly. He finally drew his sword.
"It's sharp!" he yelled.
"So? Won't matter unless you hit me!" Sir Alistair croaked back. He thrust the spear out with one so he got maximum reach. Link deflected it, but before he could try to swipe at it with his sword, the old man had already pulled it back.
Holy trinity, he was quick. Link tried to use what he had learned fighting that pervy crone with her staff. He darted in, holding his shield in front of him. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought about how much the plank of wood would block his lower vision. He saw Sir Alistair move, but it was too late until he understood what he was doing. The spear tip whacked against his ankle just before he set it down and pushed it away. Link was only just able to roll up and not fall flat on his face. He felt his back scrape over the different pieces of metal on the floor. When he was upright again he immediately swung with his sword, but his opponent was long gone. For a panicky instant he wondered where he'd gone. Something that can only be described as sixth sense made him duck his head and turn with his shield held high. His mentor's weapon hissed past where the back of his head had just been and was knocked away by Link's shield. That had been so freaking close! He jumped towards his enemy and, time going impossibly slowly, aimed his deadly blade at his weapon between his hands. The blademaster, however, didn't have the courtesy of slowing with the rest of the world. He, equally fast, turned, blocked Link's hand with the wooden handle, then cracked the upper part against his unprotected head.
Link, despite his vision jumping before his eyes, drew his sword back so the blade cut at the wood that had just stopped his hand. He felt the metal bite into the softer material, but suddenly the spear rotated with a speed and force that his sword was twisted out of his grip. A millisecond later he felt the steel tip scratch against his neck. Link waited until his vision cleared. He had to admit that, during the entire bout, he'd never even once had had the upper hand. He was soundly defeated.
That didn't cause him any distress, however. Quite the opposite, he felt an eager grin form on his face. Din's hellfire, this man was insanely good! And he would learn all he could from him.
"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all." he rasped. Link felt a huge bubble of pride rise in his chest. He suspected that when this man said that, it meant something.
"What was good: reaction time, improvisation, agility. What was excellent: you managed to utilize your shield, which you're not used to, and it didn't throw you off. Now, what was bad?" he asked, slowly removing the spear from Link's jugular and standing back.
Link bowed to pick up his sword so he'd have a second to think. That was a good question, actually. He wasn't here to hear how good he was. He was here to hear what he was bad at, what could be improved! There was, of course, no reason to beat about the bush and he was genuinely interested.
"One: I hesitated. I did so for safety, but I should have realized right away that you were aware about my sword. And you attacked me without little warning, so you had to expect my defence, whatever it might be. Two: My ability to react to your choice of weapon. I am simply not as proficient at predicting the movements of weapons other than the sword. Three: The stuff on the floor completely threw my balance off. I am used to even duelling squares. Stepping on something slanted and slippery nearly made me fall…" Link hesitated.
Sir Alistair had nodded curtly at each of his points. "Four?" he now asked.
The lad thought for another second, then shook his head.
"Four: you've lost sight of me. During your roll you've allowed me to escape your perception completely. By all rights I should have had the fight right there. But, amazingly, you reacted perfectly and evaded. After that point you moved with surprising speed and accuracy and I actually had to defend, which I, frankly, hadn't planned for. You taught me something, lad: Not to underestimate you, not even for a second." he rattled, with an appreciating nod.
While Link couldn't claim that he'd had total mental control over his movements, he still felt extremely happy with Sir Alistair's evaluation. Didn't matter that it was technically packaged in critique!
"Five: You lost your sword, lad. More precisely, you moved in a way that allowed me to wrest it from your hand. Very rarely a good thing, wouldn't you say?"
Link nodded with a face of acceptance.
"Good. You've analyzed it all quite well. Especially the uneven ground I wanted you to experience. You will hardly ever fight monsters or, indeed, sapient races on a tournament square. Either be ready to move on the terrain at hand, or find a way to choose your own battlefield. Simple as that."
Link nodded. He wondered what feats of nastiness the blademaster had in store for him to train on rock, mud, woods etc.
Another thought had caught Link's interest.
"Will I be learning to use other weapons, like spears?" he asked.
Sir Alistair looked at him as if he had suddenly turned daft.
"Why the hell do you think I let you choose, lad?" he barked. "You can't rely on one weapon to fit all situations! What if you don't have it? What if you lose your sword? Do you give up? Or do you take whatever's available and use it? I bloody hate using spears, wretched things!" he rasped and flicked the insulted weapon away with a disgusted face. "Every warrior worth his salt has to be at least familiar with the feel of different arms. Ideally I'd let every green boy use every weapon we have, from a piece of wood to the tallest, heaviest swords. If the first time you use a weapon is the moment you truly need it, you'll probably end up some creature's food. I'd also recommend carrying a couple of knives with you. Can't have too many knives…" he mused.
Link looked at the mess of blades, edges, spikes, tips and curves… he felt, at the same time, eager and slightly intimidated. But he could, of course, see the sense in Sir Alistair's words.
Well, you have to start somewhere…
Two and a half hours later, at about 4 o'clock, he left the building. If any sneers accompanied him from the others on the plaza, frankly, didn't notice them. He was just too bloody tired.
Link hadn't forgotten about his date, of course. The thought alone sent a jolt of anticipation through his body. He just hoped that she wasn't too energetic today, or he'd have to feel like an old man with creaking, aching joints. Sir Alistair had seriously put him through the wringer. The man apparently knew no fatigue. He had allowed him to choose any weapons that interested him and to attack him as he saw fit. It had been a fascinating experience, getting to use all those different blades, staff weapons, greatswords, etc. It had also been surprisingly tiring for his brain. He had forced it to learn so many different movements, applications, advantages, disadvantages and tricks that it now felt thoroughly exhausted.
… Hopefully she also didn't make him think. He doubted he could match her alliteration game today.
Sir Alistair, thankfully, had organized a chamber for him. Appropriate to his standing it was a tiny, tiny room where one side was almost precisely as long as the bed. There he had found a washing bowl and a trunk where he could lock in his stuff.
Somewhat freshened up, he was now underway to their meeting point, in front of the knight's hospital. Link shuddered at the thought of going near that thing again, but it had been the obvious spot for their next encounter. It was still within the castle, so she could move freely, without being encumbered by guards.
To his pleasure, the princess seemed a punctual girl. To somewhat less delight, she had brought her friend, the girl he had met at the fighter's compound. She couldn't be serious, could she?
Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he greeted her with a bright smile. She smiled back and actually sped up so she nearly ran towards him. He certainly wouldn't have minded if she jumped into his arms, but that would have been a drastic alteration of the pace they had been going.
"My princess!" he said with an unnecessarily deep bow and an even more unnecessary flourish with his hand.
Zelda grinned amusedly and did a formal, exceedingly correct curtsy. "Sir knight!" she purred.
Link saw the smaller, dark haired girl roll her eyes dramatically. "Goddess, you two are stiff. Thank the three I don't have to witness you two." she sighed.
Ah yes, Link had almost forgotten. That girl seemed to be a bit of a loud-mouth.
Zelda made a face. "Yes, thank the three indeed. Now, why don't you tell Link what you wish to ask of him, little cousin? You seemed so very confident only a few moments ago." she mocked her.
Link felt almost scared. What could that girl want with him?
"Sally, right?" he said with a friendly smile. "Pleased to meet you again."
The girl looked at him briefly, then looked away and blushed ever so slightly. "Yes, yes, and you. I don't want to interrupt your shuffling-awkwardly-around-and-giggling-extravaganza but I err… wanted to ask for a favour." She said quickly.
Link caught a quick sardonic look from Zelda.
"Please do!" he urged. He wanted to spend time with that fascinating girl beside the shuffling-awkwardly-around-herself-lass.
"Right. Err… I err… would like to see your big friend again. You know, Lord Hamwell Cockelstrong. That idiot." she mumbled with a lopsided grin. No her face was completely red.
Link was about to laugh out loudly, but caught himself at the last second. She obviously meant it quite seriously. So, instead, he nodded with an amused grin. "He said he would leave for Ord in six days. I have agreed to meet him in the city tomorrow at about nine o'clock. Since I can imagine that he would prefer your company over mine, I'll send him right up to the castle compound when I meet him." Her tense, red face broke into a delighted smile. She darted forward and hugged him tightly, her head at his chest level. He was quite taken aback. "Then I'll wait at the main gate for him! And don't you dare forget to tell him!" she threatened, released him and then skipped away.
Link looked at Zelda with very astonished face. He must have looked quite the idiot, as she started to laugh in her wonderfully bright voice. Seeing her laugh so freely, he couldn't help but join in.
"So that just happened, apparently. What was that?" he asked between giggles.
"Oh, just some gremlin I have picked up at some point. Listens to the name Saria, sometimes. It tends to bite, sarcastically." Zelda explained absolutely nothing.
"Ah, I see. You seem to have a talent for picking poor wretched creatures and making their life a little better." he said flirtingly.
He liked the slight colour that showed on her cheeks at that admittedly idiotic comment.
"Well… I do usually expect something back for my charity…" she uttered bashfully.
She turning back and forth in a very charming, girly way. Her white dress wafted in the rhythm of her movement. Link marvelled at the breathtaking beauty of the young woman in front of him. The long, golden hair with a few tiny braids as sole adornment. Her immaculate, cute face… from the nobly arched eyebrows over her bright, intelligent eyes to that lovely, straight nose to her softly smiling, pink lips hiding perfect white teeth… Every time he could lay eyes on her, he discovered a new, captivating detail.
Link knew he was staring, but he didn't care right now. Besides, she had stared too and he had been nearly naked at the time… fair's fair!
Her beautiful, delicate hands were shyly playing with the bow of the ribbon around her waist.
His heart beat fast with his growing nervousness, but he wouldn't be deterred by that any longer.
Link stepped closer, slowly extended his left hand and gently took her right in his.
She looked up at him with surprised eyes. He smiled back softly.
"Anything that I can give you is yours." he mumbled.
He looked into her face, which slowly, timidly broke into a wide, staggeringly beautiful smile. He felt her squeeze his hand in return.
Link felt his impish smile return to his features.
"Now. Why don't you show me the castle gardens, your highness?"