Thanks as always for the reviews - glad you're still enjoying, and putting up with my irregularities, heh! Here's a very sad loftwing, poor thing... and more side characters with added depth!

Chapter 56: Gifts and Receipts

Leaving Headmaster Gaepora's office, Link had hurried across to the training hall only to hear the sounds of a lesson enthusiastically in progress inside. Not wanting to interrupt the class, and wanting to avoid facing his fellow students' questions for as long as he could, he'd turned back to the Academy proper to slip into the thankfully deserted baths, picking up his spare boots from his room and his other uniform, mended, from the foot of his bed on the way. In the four days he'd been away, Academy life seemed to have returned to something at least somewhat closer to normal, at least in that there were fewer students wandering the halls during class hours.

The bath had seemed a lot more luxurious after days in the parched desert. It had always before been normal, remarkable only in its size and in the awkwardness of the number of students who had to use it at once. Now that he had spent days walking through a place where it would have been utterly impossible, Link wasn't sure he would ever quite think of it as normal again. Even so, he had tried to hurry, scrubbing himself clean without relaxing too much, nor dwelling on the faint, pale scars that the healing elixirs had left him with.

Dressed again and feeling slightly guilty at leaving his ruined uniform to the laundry, whatever the Headmaster had said, Link had carried his damaged chainmail and ruined boots back down to the lower floor and out towards the training hall. Hearing the class still in session inside, he'd hesitated before opening the door quietly and edging in. The training hall was built up to the very edge of the island in places, and there was no way to reach the back door short of climbing around. Absorbed in their sparring lesson, most of the students hadn't noticed him at first, but one or two became a wave of distraction that rippled around the hall until the Knight Commander shouted for them to cease and Link froze, halfway along the side wall, embarrassment and discomfort heating his face. Knight Commander Eagus had gestured for him to continue with a wave of his hand, and as Link had ducked gratefully into the back room, he'd heard him begin lecturing the other students on paying attention to the fight they were in, rather than "something interesting happening over there".

He'd let the words wash over him through the closed door, familiar from his own training and familiar again, sinking bone-deep, from the life-and-death battles he'd been thrust into. Never lose track of the foe; never become distracted – yet never, either, lose an awareness of the wider surroundings, lest danger strike while his focus was elsewhere. The chainmail, ruined in places with its links fused together, he'd set to one side for the Knight Commander's inspection; the shield, mostly undamaged by his trek through the desert and fights with aracha, he'd looked over himself, checking the strapping, wiping it down.

The Knight Commander had come through before he was quite finished, giving an approving nod at the sight of Link maintaining his equipment. The approval had quickly become surprise and concern when Link had showed him the chainmail, and he'd signed off on Headmaster Gaepora's orders without hesitation, instructing Link firmly to spend everything he was given if it would help. Link had left the training hall escorted by Knight Commander Eagus, the class not risking shooting him more than swift glances after the admonishment they'd received only a few minutes before. Escaping into the mid-afternoon sun, he'd headed around to the recovery pens, hoping to check up on both Orielle and Zelda's bird.

Orielle was singing quietly as Link stepped around the corner, her loftwing perched nearby with wings folded a little loosely. A warm feeling of relief flooded through him: Karane had brought the airlift team, and Orielle and her loftwing, at least, were safely home.

"Orielle?"

She stopped singing, half-turning, a warm smile lighting up her face.

"Link! I saw your loftwing fly over, so I knew you were back." She walked towards him as she spoke, still smiling. "I'm so glad to see you safely home as well. If it hadn't been for you and Karane, I don't know how long we would have been stuck on that little island… My bird and I are both so grateful! We really owe you our thanks!"

Link smiled, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter as Orielle stopped in front of him, her expression one of gratitude mingled with a tinge of relief. "Is she all right now?"

Orielle nodded. "She should still rest her wing for a while, so we won't be taking any long flights for the next few weeks, but she's a lot better, aren't you, dear?"

The brown loftwing turned her head towards them with a soft squawk and a head bob, an unmistakeable affirmative.

"In fact, we were both worried about you. It's been days, and…" Orielle glanced back the way she had come, towards the pen her own bird was stood beside.

"Zelda's bird?" Link asked quickly, worried.

"She's doing worse," Orielle confirmed unhappily. "She's stopped even trying to look for her. Now… she just sits."

Pity and guilt caught at the back of Link's throat. She can't feel her at all any more, can she? Zelda might have been alive, but wherever – whenever – she was, it was long before her loftwing had even been hatched. As far as her poor bird was concerned, she would effectively be dead.

"Zelda's okay," he said, "I promise, but she's… She's gone even further away." How could he tell her loftwing that? How could he tell the poor bird that the vanished half of her soul truly was gone, but not for good? Link wasn't sure even his own loftwing would entirely understand it, though they knew one another's thoughts, and the birds didn't really fully understand language on their own. "I… I don't think she'll be able to feel her at all, even a little, until she gets back."

Would it work at all, even then? No-one had ever broken the bond between a bird and her rider without one of them dying. If Zelda came back, could it be restored? Or was her sweet, smart, loyal companion doomed to have lost her forever? Would Zelda ever be complete again, or would she and her loftwing be ghosts to one another, strangers in familiar plumage? Then and there, Link resolved he wouldn't let it come to that. He'd go anywhere, do anything, ask Great Spirit Levias or even find a way to plead their case to the goddess herself.

Orielle breathed out beside him in a soft sigh. "That's a relief to hear, at least." She didn't doubt him. "I only wish we could tell her poor bird that. I suppose Parrow and I will just have to keep up her strength as best we can until Zelda returns." A pause, hesitant. "The Headmaster and Mayor Herrene told us a lot about what you've been doing…"

Link waited, not knowing what to say.

"It sounds so strange… and dangerous." She seemed to search for words, only to give up. "Just take care of yourselves, you and your bird – and Zelda. We'll be right here if you need us."

A faint, grateful smile touched Link's face briefly. "Thanks, Orielle."

"In fact, I think… You've been buying elixirs from the market, haven't you?" Link nodded, and Orielle went on firmly. "Well, apart from Zelda's poor bird, we don't have many patients right now. So, let me loan you one of our medicine bottles. It's only fair after everything you did for me, and everything you're doing out there!"

Link wanted to protest, but at the same time, he was too desperately grateful for the offer to refuse. Glass was in short supply on Skyloft, or indeed anywhere in the sky: it could be melted down and remade into new shapes, but there was no way to make more, and any shards that were lost could never be replaced. Everything from bottles to the multicoloured panes in windows had been remade and reused countless times, and he hadn't expected to get his hands on more than the two he'd been given. He watched as Orielle fetched an empty bottle from a shelf in a tiny shed between two pens, washed and clean and presumably awaiting whatever medication she would have put in it.

"Thanks," he repeated inadequately as Orielle pressed the bottle into his hands.

"You're very welcome, Link," she said warmly. "Now, go on. You must have a lot to do… so go and find Zelda for my patient, all right?"

Link nodded. "I – I will. Clear skies, Orielle."

"Goddess gift you fair winds, Link."

Link turned and left, still holding the little bottle in his hands. He'd need somewhere safe to keep it, and that meant he'd definitely have to visit the Airshop… after he'd retrieved Zelda's harp for her father, at any rate. Leaving the Knight Academy by the high road, he turned right on the bridges from the outcrop to cross to Skyloft proper. As soon as he was out of the Academy, he was just another student in the uniform of the most recent crop of upperclassmen. The island might know his loftwing on sight, with the red bird's unique and striking colour, but few of them knew him… Link hoped.

The nearest entrance to the market was directly across the unimaginatively named Edge Street, bright canvas framing it from the gaily-patterned, if decidedly weathered, roof. Link entered at a quick walk, looking around: there was the fortune-teller's tent-within-a-tent; there was Piper's Kitchen, always at least a little busy however far they were from a mealtime. Across the wide central space was the broad counter of the Baggage Check, painted text proudly advertising its mission to keep safe the possessions of students, visitors, travellers, and anyone else who couldn't fit everything they owned into wherever they were staying. Dodging around people with the ease of long practice, Link crossed to the counter… and waited.

The young woman about his own age sitting behind it had her head resting on one hand, and appeared to be asleep, her eyes closed. Her nose was a little long for an otherwise relatively delicately featured face, a large mole beside it. The most striking feature was her thick, honey-gold hair, falling from beneath a pale kerchief in a perfect fringe and, behind, a pair of sweeping tails. The last time Link had stopped by to get something, the year before, her father had been there, at least if this was Peatrice and not another young woman managing the shop.

For lack of anything better to do, he cleared his throat.

"Hm?" The young woman's eyes opened the slightest of slits. "Oh… a customer. Hello, and welcome to Skyloft's one and only Baggage Check. Have you come to drop something off…? Okay… we'll take care of it until you return. Or do you need to get something out…? That's fine too."

The entire speech was delivered in a yawning monotone, slow and lazy and without any apparent interest whatsoever.

"I, uh, need to get something out, please."

"Okay…" She lifted her head off her hand and languidly reached beneath the counter, hefting up a truly enormous record book. Link noted absently that, despite its size, while she did use two hands, she didn't seem to particularly notice its weight. "Name…?"

"It's not mine. That is, I… Headmaster Gaepora at the Knight Academy asked me to bring his daughter Zelda's token down here and request her harp. He wrote a note." Link proffered the note, still wrapped around the storage token, as the young woman's eyes finally blinked into life.

"Zelda? The missing Zelda?"

Link nodded.

"Well then!" She unfolded the note; scanned it quickly; turned pages in the great book until she found what she was looking for. "That's Zelda's storage token, and that's definitely the Headmaster's signature. So this must be connected to the search for her? Or is poor Headmaster Gaepora just missing his beloved daughter? Either way, I'll get that right out."

Startled by the sudden change in her, Link said nothing as she scribbled something into the book and turned away, swishing through the oddly wide curtains behind the counter and hooking one of them aside. He could see a slice of a large, dimly-lit room beyond, more of a storehouse than anything, shelves stretching floor to ceiling and packed with boxes, trunks, and odd-shaped items wrapped in cloth. The young woman's voice floated back out through the gap, punctuated by the sound of footsteps; wheels rolling; the clang of metal on metal.

"But if it is connected to the search for her, then this could be… Oh, I'm being silly! No-one so interesting would ever come here!"

What do you make of her, Fi? Link asked on a whim.

According to my analysis, the young woman you believe to be Peatrice has a significant intellectual capacity. However, my projections indicate that her job here provides minimal stimulation, resulting in extreme boredom. I do not detect any other individuals in this subdivision of the market, nor any other significant aura traces behind the counter, and conclude that there is a 97% probability that she will be here throughout the entire opening time of this business. High levels of boredom are predicted to be the reason for her initial attitude of extreme disinterest.

Working here does sound pretty dull, Link admitted, shortly before a series of scraping sounds and a sudden loud clunk caught his attention.

"Do you need a hand?" he called through.

"There won't – what? Oh! No, it's just the ladder." There was something of a pause, no further noises emanating from the back. "Thank you for asking, though!"

The sound of rummaging followed, then a muted "aha!", followed by footsteps on metal, then stone. Moments later, she reappeared, a small case held in her hands, letting the hooked-back curtain drop closed behind her.

"Here you go: the harp you asked for." She made no move to hold it out to him, though, simply standing on the other side of the counter, dark eyes appraising. "Say… Before you go… You wouldn't happen to be… Oh, no. That would be ridiculous."

Despite his own natural inclinations, Link took pity on her. "I'm Link, Zelda's classmate, if that's what you're asking?"

"You are?" She almost squealed. "And you're actually out searching for her right now! That's so… exciting!"

"Sort of…" Link hesitated. "And, uh, you're Peatrice, right?"

To his relief, she nodded. "That's me. I'm Peatrice… stuff-stacker extraordinaire." She blew out a breath. "But really, all I do is watch dust settle on my counter."

"It… does sound pretty boring here," Link agreed

"You have no idea…" Peatrice shook her head. "Well… I won't bother you, but… Maybe you could answer one question for me?"

"Okay," Link said, somewhat uncertainly.

"I think that if there are creatures on the surface, they must not have any wings. Is that true?"

Link blinked. Whatever he might have expected her to ask, it certainly hadn't been that. "A lot of them don't, no. But there are birds, too. Mostly birds we don't see up here. I guess they can't fly through the cloud barrier."

"So there are lots of kinds of creatures? And I heard there were even people…?"

How could anyone live under the clouds? Link knew that was what she had to be thinking. "There are some, yeah. Most of them seem to live a pretty hard life."

Peatrice's head dipped as she took that on board. "If they live under the clouds… They would never meet their loftwings, would they?"

Link shook his head. "They'd never even seen a loftwing."

"That's so sad…" She shook her head, and the distant, thoughtful look was replaced by a smile of gratitude that lit up her face. "Thank you for answering my questions, Link. I suppose I can't really keep you any longer, but you're the only really interesting customer I've seen since I started working here! If you want anything stored, or want anything out of storage, you know where to find us. I would keep any souvenirs you brought back very safe!" She finally held out the case, and Link saw it clearly at last: about the size of his fist, with a little picture of a harp embossed onto it together with the letter Z.

"Thank you very much, Peatrice." Link took it from her, checking the back: there was a leather loop that should fit his belt and a smaller metal one likely intended for hanging it on a wall. "I'll come back if I… find anything."

Peatrice smiled wistfully. "Oh, don't tease me. It's not humane to tease someone this bored. Don't forget Zelda's token, either. Her father will need it back."

"Oh, right." Peatrice had left it atop the book, and Link reached out to take it, noting as he did that each of the two visible pages was stamped with a different design, one of which looked like the imprint of the token he had just picked up. "Thanks. I'll, uh, see you later."

"Yeah…" Peatrice closed the heavy book with a thump as Link turned away. Sharp ears trained by harsh experience to listen out for danger at all times caught one final murmur beneath the hubbub of the marketplace, one that he couldn't possibly have been expected to hear. "I wish..."

Late by only a day! I didn't quite get it finished yesterday, and even if I had, I probably wouldn't have had enough wakefulness left in me to actually sanity-check it.

I was looking at the word count on this thing the other day, and this fic alone is already around the same length as the actual book I wrote… That's kind of crazy!

Patch Notes
- Zelda's loftwing continues to exist; reacts to Zelda's near-nonexistence.
- Reason provided for potion bottles to be in highly limited supply.
- Peatrice given increased depth: now expands on her boredom; displays some sensitivity; provides plausible reasons to return to talk.