LU Community Write-A-Thon

"Absolutely." Four ticked the points off on his fingers, leaning casually on Wolfie's shoulder. "I've listened to the Sailor's stories. You've shown us your masks. Plus," he grinned, sharp and mischievous, "it's been ages since we had some harmless fun."

Time put on a long-suffering face. "I dare say it won't be fun for the innkeeper." But he began divesting himself of his armor, storing it piece by piece in his pouch. He tried but failed to hide the excited grin tugging at his lips. "Let's do this," he agreed.

Four whooped. Wolfie's tongue lolled out in a wide, doggy grin, and he gave a happy bark.

-----

Four nestled himself deep inside Wolfie's neck fur, Minish-sized and ready for the show. 

"Keep a good grip," Wolfie told him as they mounted the steps to the inn. "I don't know what Time has planned. We may need to run."

"Got it," Four whispered back, the Picori language rolling naturally off his tongue.

Time opened the door for them, then approached the older lady at the reception desk. "Good evening, ma'am," he said smoothly. "Do you have three rooms available for the night? I'm traveling with a sizeable party, but they're willing to share."

The innkeeper peered over the desk, her round glasses slipping down her nose. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, voice dripping with false regret. "We don't accept animals in this inn."

"Oh yeah," Time remained relaxed, one hand resting on his belt, "I'm fully aware of that." He gestured down at Wolfie. "This is my great-great-grandson. We really look alike, right?"

The woman stared. "Sir, a wolf can't be your..."

She blinked, and Wolfie shifted under Four's feet. He muffled a yelp as his perch grew into Twilight's pelt. 

Time didn't even glance their way. "What's the matter?"

The woman pursed her lips and stared at the pair of Hylians in front of her, then huffed and closed her eyes. "Besides, you look too young to have a great-great-grandson."

Out of the corner of his eyen Four saw Time's hand plunge into his pouch. In an instant, a mask clamped itself onto his face, and the Old Man shrunk into a kid. Four stuffed his fist into his mouth to stifle his giggles.

"See?" the young Link jeered, pulling his good eyelid down and sticking out his tongue at Twilight. "She says I look too young! So you better stop calling me 'Old Man'."

Twilight chuckled. "Okay, okay. I'll take that."

Four peeked around Twilight's shoulder. The old lady stared, fingertips pressed together in concern. "Are you...Hylian?" she questioned, glasses slipping down her nose again.

In the time it took her to fix them, Twilight shifted back to Wolfie and Time pulled on another mask, turning into a Zora. Four buried his head into his arm, silently cackling as the pair just stood in front of the desk.

He heard the barely-audible griding of teeth and raised his head, gasping for air. Oh golden three her face! Legend's gonna be pissed he missed this.

The innkeeper sighed in defeat and pinched her eyes closed. "Yeah, you two look very alike. Welcome to the inn." She slid the register book and quill across the desk. 

Time removed his mask, signed and returned the book, and accepted the three keys in exchange. "Let's go, Pup."

Wolfie trotted happily after Time. Four turned and looked back at the reception desk. The poor woman had her head buried in her hands, staring blankly at the resiger book in front of her. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear any words. He nudged at the shoulder rolling beneath him. "Did you catch what she said?"

Wolfie twitched an ear and huffed an amused bark. "She said, 'Am I tripping?'"

Warriors stepped through the portal into a new time period. After the horror that was the last Hyrule, he was excited for the new beginning this portal would bring. He walked onto new land, ready to face a new day… and promptly tripped over nothing and fell on his face.

The other heroes, just behind as they followed him through the portal, immediately also tripped and landed on top of him.

‘Well that’s an encouraging start,’ he thought sarcastically.

He groaned in pain from the weight; heroes — especially those wearing full plate, Time — were heavy. A handful of heroes gave answering groans, though theirs were mostly from portal sickness.

It took a bit for everyone to get off of him, but eventually they managed. Relieved, Warriors sat up and took stock of where they were. The portal had dropped them in the middle of a dirt path lined with trees. The path looked well-travelled, lacking the grasses that sprouted when given a chance.

“Anyone recognise this time period?” Time called. There was a round of head shakes.

“It’s mine, I think,” Legend said. The chain had yet to actually visit the vet's time period, but Warriors had been looking forward to seeing it. He hadn't been expecting Legend to look so… pensive about it, though.

Time seemed to pick up on Legend’s mood. “Do you know how far we are from a town?”

Legend sighed. “Not far. Kakariko’s maybe two hours away if we don’t dawdle.” He immediately started off down the path, and the others had to scramble to follow.

Warriors exchanged worried looks with Time as the leader pulled him to his feet. Kakariko was always a safe place to visit, wasn’t it? Why did Legend seem so unenthused about being home?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/87391701

I couldn't get it to link properly, so the link is embedded in the link

Warriors hadn’t expected the visit to Gerudo Town to be so fun. Why had he never tried wearing a skirt before?! It had kept him so much cooler than any of the other clothes he’d tried, and it was swishy.

Winry had laughed at him for five minutes straight when he couldn’t stop twirling. Legend had been unbearably smug. Even Time had laughed at him — in his silent, twinkling-eye sort of way — which was just unfair. How come everyone but he and Sky had discovered the majesty that was skirts first, and then not said anything?!

The other fun part of Gerudo Town was looking nice without the expectations that came from his own time period. The people in his Hyrule expected him to look perfect. The war had been started because someone had been attracted to him; they expected him to look worth owning.

Wearing a skirt and bedecked in enough jewelry that he jingled, though, made him feel pretty for the first time ever in his life. It was an intoxicating feeling. Even with all his training, it was hard to force himself to leave the town so the chain could go fight the monsters they’d originally planned.

Afterwards, Warriors mourned his swishy outfit. The skirt and top were built for the heat of the desert, not the temperate forests and fields they usually traversed. It was far too cold to wear the thin cloth.

No one else had any skirts that could be worn away from the desert either, apart from Legend’s usual outfit, which he continued to insist was a tunic. Warriors had attempted to steal one of his spares — why did he have five of the exact same dress-tunic-things — but Legend rarely left his bag out of his sight for long and never when there wasn’t at least two other people watching camp.

Still, Warriors had a plan. The next time they made it to someone’s house who had a skirt at home — and a few of them had mentioned having at least one after their desert trip — Warriors was going to do his best to steal it. He was limited in choice — Four’s skirts would be too small, even if the smithy had admitted to having many; Time’s skirts were mixed in with his wife’s, and Warriors would never dare to steal from Malon; Sky, Winry, and Wild lacked additional skirts for him to take; and Hyrule lacked a house. That really only left Legend and Twilight, which was fine. Warriors had zero issues stealing from either of them. Now, he just had to be portaled to one of their eras.

Everyone was glad when they left the swamp. A full week of the clinging muck was more than even Wild and Hyrule could handle.

As soon as they were out, Warriors rushed to open his bag and change clothes, quickly followed by everyone else. Wind opened his own bag, only to promptly remember accidentally dropping his bag on the second day into the swamp. All of his clothes were muddy, slimy, and stinky — no better than what he was already wearing.

“Hey, Ledge, can I borrow something until we reach somewhere we can do laundry?” Hyrule asked. Right, he didn’t have a change of clothes either.

“Sure,” said Legend, who’d already changed into a green ‘undertunic’ — dress — identical to his usual. He reached into his bag and pulled out a third identical green undertunic.

“How many of those do you have?” Wild asked with interest.

“Only the three, in green.”

“And in other colours?”

Legend smirked and didn’t elaborate.

“Okay, hoarder,” Warriors shoved him lightly, and they both snickered. “Let’s get a move on.”

“Wait!” Wind exclaimed, and then froze as everyone looked at him. He hadn’t meant to be that loud. He rallied his courage. “Legend, do you have something I can borrow, too?” He’d have asked Wild, except Wild was just tall enough that most of his outfits would be uncomfortably big on Wind. Legend, who was shorter, had clothes that would nearly fit Wind perfectly.

Legend’s eyes widened in realisation. “Shit, your bag. Yeah, I got something. Hang on.”

He dug around in his bag for a minute, arm disappearing into it much further than the outside dimensions would imply. He finally pulled out a yellow undertunic, similar in cut to his green ones.

Wind happily scrambled to change, but Legend frowned at him when he was done.

“That much yellow does not work for you,” he proclaimed, nose wrinkled, and then went back to digging in his bag.

Warriors quietly tried to get him to look while they walked, but Legend shooed him off, insisting that it was ‘important’.

Finally, he pulled out a blue tunic. “Here, that should help break up the yellow some, and you’ll probably feel better in your usual blue, even if it’s not the same shade.”

It wasn’t the same shade, not even close, but Legend was right; Wind did feel better about wearing blue.

With Wind changed, they got to walking. It was odd, not wearing pants. His legs rubbed against each other.

Legend drifted closer. “Swing your legs around each other, so your steps are more in a line. Helps with chafing.”

He exaggerated his walking to demonstrate what he meant. Wind copied him. It helped. It also made the skirt of the tunic swish and sway around his legs as he walked.

Wind felt… pretty… with it doing that. He hadn't felt that way before. It was actually sort of nice.

He experimented with different ways of moving his legs and hips, seeing how it affected the skirt.

He was so distracted watching it that he didn't notice when everyone else stopped until Legend tapped him on the shoulder. “Having fun?”

Wind blushed. “It's just new,” he said defensively.

Legend’s smirk widened, but he thankfully didn't push. “Sure. We haven't found a lake or river yet, so you can keep experimenting with the ‘newness’ of it tomorrow. Anyway, Time asked if you'd help gather sticks for the campfire.”

Wind hurried off, trying to get away from Legend’s smile.

Mama stared out the window at the rain. The house was close enough to the docks that she could see it landing on the churning waves. Lin could see it, too, when Mama lifted her up; she was too short to see out the window otherwise.

Mama looked away from the window for a minute to check on the pie dough in Lin’s bowl. It was nearly ready to be rolled out. They were making hand pies for Father.

Lin wasn’t sure why they were putting in so much effort. Father would be mad they’d taken so long no matter how good the pies tasted. Still, Mama said they had to do their best, and Lin wanted so very much to be good for Mama.

---

The boxes and chests crowded her, the darkness near overwhelmed her with terror, and still Lin pressed in deeper to the space under the bed, hands over her ears to block out the yelling.

She wasn’t sure what had caused it this time — Father got angry over so many things, after all — but Mama had yelled back for the first time in Lin’s memory. They’d been shouting at each other for over twenty minutes, now, and Lin just wanted it to stop. It was past suppertime. It was probably past bedtime, too. She was hungry. She was tired. She was scared.

The yelling stopped, the front door slammed, and the house became horrifically silent. Footsteps, almost unbearably loud, walked closer to the bed. Father’s shoes became visible. Lin pressed her hands over her mouth in the hopes of quieting her breathing further. She may want to be given supper, but she wanted Father to not know she was hiding under the bed more.

Father grabbed the bag he usually took to work and threw it on the bed. He stomped about the house, throwing things into it. Then, he, too, left the house. The door slammed with finality.

Lin slowly crawled out from her hiding spot and peered around the empty house. She couldn’t help the sobs that spilled out of her. Mama was coming back, right? Someone would come for her, wouldn’t they?

After a few minutes of crying, Lin took a deep breath and wiped her tears. If no one was going to come back for her, she needed to take care of herself. She’d been helping Mama make stew before the argument had started, so she’d just have to finish it herself. She pulled the step stool she used to help Mama cook over to the stew pot and stirred it. The stew was done, and so she pulled hard on the swing arm that kept it over the fire. It took all of her weight to get it to move, and stopping it was even harder. She yelped slightly when it bumped into her arm and burned her.

Lin sat at the table, alone, with the bowl of stew and ignored how salty it tasted with her tears. When she was done eating, she put the empty bowl near the washing basin. If no one had come back by tomorrow morning, she’d clean it herself.

She spent a few minutes staring at the large pot of stew, but she’d never been around when Mama put it away for the evening and so didn’t know what to do with it. Eventually, she shrugged, made sure the lid was on, and put herself to bed.

It took her a long time to fall asleep that night.

---

Mama had returned by morning, but Father took a couple of days. He didn’t look happy to be back, and Mama didn’t seem pleased either. They yelled a lot, mostly at each other but occasionally at Lin.

After a week, Mama started looking ill. She became pale and shaky. It became harder and harder for her to lift things. Lin had to beg her to stay in bed. Father refused to call the doctor, saying that they didn’t have enough money.

One day, Mama collapsed while Father was at work, and so Lin ignored her father’s orders and went to the doctor herself for help. The doctor helped get Mama in bed, but said that there wasn’t anything he could do for her condition.

Father had yelled at Lin afterwards like he never had before, but she knew she’d made the right choice even if nothing had come of it. The look Father gave Mama scared her.

---

Lin cried through the funeral. It was small, devoid of friends. A few of Father’s fellow fishermen were there, but not many. A couple of them apologised to Father. No one apologised to Lin.

But that didn't make him much more comfortable with casting a spell that would change his very physical nature. The old man had assured him it wouldn't hurt, and there was very little reason for him to lie, but a mistake in the casting of the spell could be disastrous.

Still, Link was used to taking risks. He was used to getting hurt, even hurt badly, and he told himself this was no different. He had a doll to hand in case something went badly wrong - his last one, but if he needed it it was always worth it - and it was time to stop dithering and try this spell.

With another deep breath, he folded his hands on his chest, straightened his back, and with a quick mental flick pulled the magic out of his soul and around himself as if unfurling a blanket.

Despite the old man's assurances, he'd expected pain. Instead, the magic filled him with a glittering warmth. He felt the wings flashing out of his back, felt himself shrinking, but it was as if he was a breeze, air forming a new shape rather than a boy of flesh and bone. It was somehow freeing, bringing a lightness and mobility that he wished could go on forever, dangerous though he knew that probably was.

And then it was over. All in a moment, he was a fairy, hovering in the air where he'd been sitting.

He'd got it right first time.

And that triumph and the lingering feeling of freedom and joy and the knowledge that the sky above was suddenly open to him sent such a frisson of excitement through him he couldn't help spiralling upwards with a delighted cry. The air seemed to sing under his wings and he shed tiny, sparkles like droplets of water as he shot upwards between the leaves of the trees overhead and towards the sun. For a moment he hung, hovering, looking down at the little forest in which he'd sheltered for his experiments. He could feel the magic underlying the land, see it when he looked for it. The gleam of hylian life in the village where the old man and old woman and her daughter lived. The little silver-green pinpricks of birds in the trees. The warm, deep green of the trees themselves.

Link breathed deep, though in this form he didn't need to, letting the magic in the air flow through him with a deeper, truer joy than the sparkling excitement of flight. Now he could understand why fairies chimed and sparkled the way they did, if this was their everyday life.

Soon he would have to land again. He couldn't travel far in this form and, more importantly, couldn't risk forgetting how to change back. But for the time being he savoured the magic, looked out at the sun and the jewelled magic of the land below, and let the excitement and triumph and deeper joy flow through every fragment of his body.

Warriors fell out of a portal and landed in the water with a splash.

Weighed down by his chain mail and many layers, it took him a minute to orient himself and swim upwards. He found that he wasn’t too far away from the shore of a large island. Already, he could see a figure standing on the beach — likely one of his brothers stumbling out of their own portal.

Warriors swam closer, and, bit by bit, Time came into focus. He’d already removed his armour under the hot sun and was building a campfire with the palm trees that lined the sandy beach. He paused in his gathering of materials to wave at Warriors.

Warriors finally made it to shore, exhausted from dragging his heavy clothes. Thank goodness the army had insisted that all new recruits be taught how to swim. As soon as he could, he shucked his tunic and chain mail and left them on the beach.

“Hello, Captain. Enjoy your swim?” Time asked with a cheeky smile, arms full of dead palm leaves.

“My scarf got wet!” Warriors exclaimed, playing up how upset he was over it.

“Yes, it is tragic,” Time agreed, face falling back into carefully-constructed neutrality. His eyes laughed at Warriors. “I do believe we are in the Sailor’s world.”

Warriors considered the ocean he’d had to swim through to get here. “Probably. Is there anyone else on the island, or is it just us lucky two?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps you could search the island while I get a signal fire started?”

“Sure.” Warriors dreaded the idea of putting his mail back on, but he didn’t mention that. Maybe just his weapons would be enough? It didn’t look like a big island. “Oh! Do you want to borrow the vet’s fire rod to start it?”

“That would be appreciated, thank you. Leave it near the fire pit?” Time gestered to the growing pile of flammable palm leaves and branches on the sand.

“Sure,” Warriors said. He went back to his dropped items and armour. He elected to forego the armour — if he really got into trouble, Time would come running — and so strapped his weapons into place on top of his undershirt.

Off to explore the island he went.