Chapter Three

"The rain won't bite you!" Yelled the Missus above the pitter-patter, "C'mon out! The well's this way!"

Zelda was mystified, standing dumbfoundedly at the tent's entrance. She clutched the threshold beams, peering out into the storm. Night had fallen, shrouding the empty expanse and all its ruins and bones in darkness. Even the castle – liberated after decades – had been dimmed by the deep, dangerous blues. Were the gods of wind helping them? A gust blew Link's hood from her head. Rain splayed her face – spitting and splattering. She extended a hand to feel the chilled downpour and, pulled it back for inspection and marveled – precious little droplets ran off her pink fingertips.

Rain – Zelda smiled, even tasting it in disbelief. She scoured the heavens until courage propelled her out into her first rainstorm after a century of void. She stood helplessly, letting the rain drench her.

"You alright?" Came the Missus. She ran over with her umbrella.

Zelda nodded, wiping her eyes as rivers trickled down her long hair.

Missus Lawdon held out her arm for taking, "It's been a while since we had rain, yeah?"

All Zelda could do was nod – very long.

"Over here." The woman gestured, leading Zelda to a quaint well at the edge of the yard. A shoddy wooden bucket sat at its feet – Missus Lawdon seized it and threw it down into the mouth of the hole. Up came a full load of water, sloshing about as the woman extracted it off the line. She gestured to Zelda's clothes, "C'mon now. Don't be shy."

Zelda shuttered, looking down – oh.

"I'm a married woman, girly – even a pretty girl like you won't change my mind."

Zelda tensed - she had never undressed publically before. Bathed by a well, for that matter. Wary, she checked over her shoulder for the far-off window ablaze with firelight.

"They can't see." Laughed the Missus. "Even if they wanted to."

Still, she hesitated - hiding behind the well, quickly removing Link's cloak. She kicked off her undergarments next and unbinded the belt at her chest, quickly tossing into the mud to throw off that goddess-forbidden prayer gown, but all haste fell short to the sight of the white satin in the mud. A sudden weariness settled in – a weight lifted, parting with the garment. Its history. Its pain. She fell back in the mud – as if she had removed her own spine from her back.

"Oh, sweets, come now – you're gettin' your bum dirty like that!" Came the Missus, laughing again. Laughter – it countered the Hyrulean funeral residing within its Princess. All Zelda could do was stare – unhindered, the woman smiled back, spouting out a quirky little tune as she retrieved a bar of used soap from her basket. She rubbed it against a sponge, belting out the chorus of her song before offering it, but when Zelda's arms proved too weak to move, the woman drew her up with a suave spin before scrubbing her down herself. "Ah, I've got'chu, sweetheart. I'm a woman from the wilds."

Zelda huffed – the wilds. Wildly kind. Wildly patient. Wildly tough. A stablemaster running strangers to his stable, providing tea and liquor, offering potions, operating on a wound. A woman washing down a child as if she was her own. Wild – like wildflowers growing over ruins.

"Alright, ya' clean!" She heard. The Missus handed her a towel. Zelda closed it tightly around herself before taking the woman's arm. They walked back to the stable together – grime getting between her sandals.

"We got a private entrance over here," gestured the woman. Zelda followed her to the front desk, where a little door unlatched from the side. A cozy booth welcomed them—as did a tall sheet of frayed mauve curtains, which the woman unfurled for privacy. She helped the Princess over the threshold next. Zelda stepped inside, rubbing her chapped ears as the rain became nothing more than a faint whisper on the canvas around them.

Inside was lonesome, dark, and warm. Leekah lit a lantern — a row of knick-knacks presented themselves on the far edge of the desk. Among them were stained letters, whittled horses, a darned-up doll, empty beer bottles, and a pen stand among dabs of spilled ink. Zelda huffed – enamored with the signs of… signs of what? Zelda wondered, wandering the space, tracing the etchings in the table, fingering the stained curtains, doting on the notches carved into the wood paneling. She kneeled – they marked the children's height. It was life. Signs of life.

Zelda wiped her eyes, thinking of her own study – research books, widgets, uprooted plants, and guardian parts strewn about the place. A century separated her from those blessed hours of study, yet Leekah's office space made it feel so much closer. Like yesterday. As if no time had passed. As if the Calamity had not yet come and there was still hope for the Princess of Destiny. What a world – one where she was safe. She felt at home. She felt trust, looking up to find the Missus wringing out that awful prayer dress.

"I draw them whenever I need a break from the guests." She said, nodding to the curtains. She swung the wet clothes over a wooden beam above them. "Makes me feel like royalty with all the curtains!"

Royalty, Zelda smiled – she ought to bow. Gratefulness demanded the world from Zelda's lips, yet she felt stunned – squashed beneath the slow-falling weight of relief, "Thank y–"

"Now, I must warn you," she interrupted absent-mindedly, dropping to the bottom cabinet of the desk. Inside, a messy bundle of clothes sprawled between two shelves. The Missus pulled out a pink frock, "we don't see many blondes in these parts. So, you might get some trouble from the men here, but just give them the finger, and they'll bug off! Goddess knows they're used to getting kicked around by beautiful women here. Just look at me!" And with a snicker, she slapped the short-sleeve frock on the desk, a taupe apron, a tan fringed shawl, and some underthings.

Unrepairable feelings of debt and guilt sank the Princess of Hyrule, taking the clothes. She watched her feet and robotically went on, "I-I don't know how I can repay you or your husband."

"With babysitting!" Laughed the woman, "But, we'll talk about that later. You're gonna need undies!"

Zelda hurried into the garments and then received the pink frock as it came over her head. She let it fall around her waist and smoothed the wrinkles at her thighs – it was thin to the touch and donned with an outerlander pattern. Ivory white herringbone stitches adorned the sleeves and collar. Exotic - nothing the Princess of Hyrule had ever worn, but probably the nicest thing that the woman owned. Zelda shook, feeling grateful and undeserving, but before she could say something about it, the woman wrapped her in the apron and pulled a shawl over her hair.

"I'm not saying you need to cover up yer hair, but it's better than the boy's bloody cloak, yeah?"

Zelda patted the shawl on her head – something about it made her smile. Was it the fringes? The color? Turning to a mirror, she flattened the apron against her waist, suppressing a bouncy delight momentarily severing her from the grim evening. She blew out her cheek in sober joy before the weight of the Calamity returned altogether.

"Hey, you alright?" The mother neared.

Zelda shook, feeling her eyes water.

"Don't worry, hun, you pull off the shabby look!"

"N-No, please no, it's not that."

"Is it the inn?"

"N-No, I - "

"Lawdie? He didn't insult you, did he?"

"N-No, he's wonderful! You all are – "

"Oh, sweetheart? Please don't cry."

But Zelda kept crying – a sudden squeeze soothing her. A mother's embrace. And soon, she found herself up on her feet - the Missus escorting her back into the dormitory where Link lay helplessly on a bloody bench.

Author's Note: Don't worry, Zelda - just go spend some time with Link.